“I haven’t spied on your intimate life, at least not purposely.” Sam’s gaze hardened, but Morin moved back to her. “This is a classic haunting.”
“Ghosts? Wraiths? I’ve only seen the one spirit, Sylvia’s, and certainly no wispy, freezing winds.”
“Not a ghostly haunting. This is strictly demonic. Somewhere among the guests, there is a demon who has attached himself to the premises. The walls are his skin, the beams his bones. When he consumes a human victim, he takes them inside himself, into the walls to feed.”
Her lips curled in disgust. “Ew.”
“You were lucky Sam was there. If you’d been alone, you might well have been pulled inside and devoured.”
Cait shivered. Another thought niggled. “How is he taking them back in time to deposit them?”
Morin’s shoulder lifted. “Bending time, stopping time—that’s not so difficult, Caitlyn. You’re asking the wrong question.” His gaze narrowed. “
“Do you know?”
“Perhaps he does because it’s easier to hide his victims. Law enforcement wasn’t as sophisticated or connected in those days. Or perhaps he’s sentimental.”
“Do you think he first attached himself to that house all those years ago?”
His expression approving, he nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Should I be looking for someone older, then?”
“He’s a demon. And if he’s been feeding on human life-force, he might not age. So, no, don’t narrow your search to an elderly person.”
Frustration tightened her muscles. She wasn’t getting concrete answers she could work with, so she asked another question. “How do I figure out who it is?”
“A demon this powerful can’t detach himself from the structure. And he can’t depend on guests to fulfill his appetites. This Sylvia was lured there by a helper. She was seduced into a meeting inside the hotel. You might have an incubus. It would make sense. An incubus seduces his victims, then drains them of their energy once they are aroused. If he’s not a soulless killer, he’ll take only what he needs, sparing his victim. In this case, he likely leaves them only weakened so the demon can finish them. If you encounter one, be careful because he will be powerfully potent. You won’t be able to resist his allure,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. “Now that the demon of the house knows you are seeking him and has tasted for himself what you are, he’ll have his minion trolling for you. You could be in great danger.”
“Then she’s not stepping foot inside there again,” Sam said, his voice flat.
Morin’s dark eyes reflected a hint of remorse. “She’s the only one who can fight this—unless you’re willing to let the demon take more victims. You can’t do it, Samuel Pierce. You aren’t equipped to do battle with a supernatural entity.”
“What’s it going to take to kill him?” Cait asked, her stomach quivering slightly at the thought of what she might have to do. “Should I be looking for a priest to do an exorcism?”
Morin smirked. “The only thing a priest might do is annoy the demon into seeking another residence where he will continue killing. Take heart in the fact the demon has betrayed his source of power and his Achilles’ heel. He consumes souls inside his walls. He has become the hotel.” His hands outlined the roof and the sides of the building. “The only way to vanquish him completely is to burn the structure to the ground.”
Deflated, Cait slumped in her chair. “Well, hell. That’s not helpful. There are a dozen full-time residents and laws that will make that a really bad idea. There has to be another way.”
Morin gave an impatient shake of his head. “Then take his accomplice out of the picture first. We can worry about the demon later when he can’t see beyond his walls.”
“How do we find him?”
Morin’s head canted. His gaze swept her body before landing on her mouth. “I think he will find you.”
“Dammit, Cait.” The chair beside her scraped on the floor.
“Shut up, Sam,” she said giving him a sideways glance. “This is like any other investigation. We’re baiting a perp to show himself.” To Morin, she asked, “Any hints how we’ll know which of the guests or staff he is? He’s not attached to the hotel. He can move around freely. He could be anybody.”
“You’ve interviewed everybody. Who is the most eager to involve themselves in your investigation? Incubi are inquisitive, mischievous. He’ll consider seducing you a challenge.”
Sam stiffened. “The TV crew.”
Cait nodded and gave Sam a tight smile. “Then that’s where we’ll start. We’ll invite them to join us. To set up their cameras. But while they’re watching for ghosts, we’ll be watching for the one who’s most curious about us.”
Sam turned to Morin. “Once we’ve found him, what then? How do we take him out?”
Morin’s smile was benign. “He’s a true shape-shifter. He lives in a stolen life. Don’t worry that you must destroy a human. His shell is as vulnerable as any man’s. Kill him by any ordinary means.”
“That’s good news,” Cait said, as a bit of tension released inside. “We lost the demon-sucking bellows when we shattered the mirror.”
Morin smiled at her words. “You won’t be drawing a demon out of a human host. No bellows required. Besides, do you think that was the only tool at my disposal?”
Cait sighed. “How do you do it? How do you always have everything? How do you even replenish your stores?”
“Celeste brings me things. Ingredients, groceries for when I grow bored with what is always in my cupboards.”
Her attention caught on that last statement. “Is it magical? If I eat the bread in your bread basket, will there be another loaf when I look again?”
His smile stretched wide, deepening the faint crow’s feet at the sides of his eyes. “And how many years has it taken you to figure that out?”
“Give me some credit.” Cait frowned. “I didn’t know you were trapped in an enchanted shop. Have you ever tried walking out the door when someone leaves?”
His smile tightened, and he physically winced. “I’ve tried walking, running, jumping through the door, and all the windows. There is no escape for me. Each time, I meet a barrier I can’t crash through.”
His gaze rested on her again, and she felt a weight settle in her chest. “You still expect me to free you?”
“Someday, I hope you will find the confidence in me to try.”
“It’s not a matter of confidence, Morin. You’re the most powerful sorcerer even Celeste has ever known. If you don’t know a spell, how the hell do you expect me to work the magic?”
His eyebrows moved up and down. “Frustrating, isn’t it?”
She bit her lip then giggled.
“Cait.” Sam’s hand slid behind her waist.
“Right.” She cleared her throat. “We have work to do.”
“You know, you have powers I don’t,” Morin said, tapping his bottom lip with his forefinger. “Perhaps you should try speaking to the dead to find the apprentice.”
She tilted her head, considering it. “Since ghosts aren’t exactly popping out of closets, a summoning spell?”
“Do you remember one?”
“There’s one in my mother’s book. All I need’s a butterfly.” Cait pushed back her chair and rose. Sam’s scraped beside her. “Bye, Morin.”
“Bye-bye, Caitlyn.” He held out his hand. A small brass key lay across his palm.
Cait swiped it off and curled her hand. She might need to find him quickly the next time. Better to have the key so she didn’t have to waste time on a locator spell that might not work.
After one last searching glance and silent thanks, she left the kitchen and strode toward the door. With a twist of the knob, she stepped back into the sunny cafe alcove.
Around them the sounds of Beale Street on a hot summer’s day returned in a jarring cacophony.
No one around them seemed to notice their arrival or the door that hadn’t been there a moment before.
