Lost Souls

“Maybe they’ve got a sense of humor,” he said, sliding it back.

Cait wadded the napkin in her hand and shook it. “This will just have to do. I’ve already wasted half an hour. There’s no telling what kind of trouble those Reel PIs have gotten into.”

They took the elevator. Cait kept her gaze fixed on the digital readout. The elevator was old and slow and tended to shake a bit as it rose.

When they reached the third floor, Cait flipped the stop switch and waited to see if an alarm rang. When it didn’t, she glanced at Jason. “Good a place as any. Private.” She reached into her pocket and removed the vial of butterfly blood ink, shook it, and then pointed at his chest and twirled her finger.

Making a face, Jason turned and hunched over.

She set the napkin against him, uncorked the bottle, and pulled out a quill.

“That gonna bleed through my shirt?”

“Probably.”

“Great. Just what I need.”

“All right,” she muttered. “I’ll use the floor.”

Jason straightened and stood back as she knelt and bent over the napkin. As soon as she dipped the quill in the ink and began to write, the paper soaked up the first letter, forming an illegible blob. So she copied the rest of the words in large block letters to the side of the spell she’d written in plain ink.

When she was done, she straightened, held out the paper, and took a deep breath. “Ready for this?” she asked, looking at Jason for moral support.

“Am I going to see anything?” He held his body stiffly.

“Not likely.”

“You’re the witch. Go for it.”

A pounding sounded on the elevator door. “Anyone in there?”

She aimed a glance at Jason for him to handle it while she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind.

“No problems here,” he shouted, his words echoing loudly against the metal walls. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Get a damn room!”

Cait closed her eyes and evened out her breaths. She tried to imagine a riverbank with clear blue water. Sunlight filtering through shade trees. When she had the image locked in her mind, she felt calm envelop her, her thoughts narrowing, all the noise and hurry drifting away.

In a moment of quiet, she opened her eyes and read from the napkin.

“Spirits guide me, lift the veil.

No harm or greed do I entail.”

She heard a groan, but ignored it.

“Let me take a tiny peek

And find the spirit that I seek:

Sylvia Reyes.”

She bit her lip. “Think that did it?”

“That took you half an hour?”

The lights in the elevator dimmed for a long moment before flickering back on.

A silvery outline of a woman filled in slowly, like ink spilled into a glass. An echo of a scream started faintly, then grew and grew. Color exploded through the figure: bottle-blonde hair, red Sharpie-outlined lips and thick dark mascara, a shimmery, too-tight top and much-too-short-for-church skirt. Hot pink heels.

“Holy sheet!” Sylvia Reyes’s hands patted her abdomen, and then she bent over to look at her belly before at last darting a glance up at Cait. “Lady, what the hell did joo do?”

“Did it work?” Jason whispered beside her.

Cait didn’t take her gaze off the apparition glaring daggers her way. “She’s arrived, all right. Sylvia, I’m Cait. This is Jason. He can’t see you.”

“You some kinda spirit guide come to tell me joo made a mistake?” Her thick Spanish accent clicked like castanets. Her words were bold, but there was real fear in her eyes.

“A mistake?”

“Joo gonna take me down there?” she asked, her nasal tones pinched.

“Are you talking about Hell? Were you in Heaven?”

Sylvia lifted her shoulders. “I don’ know. It was nice. Like mi abuela’s house in Meh-hee-ko.” She aimed a leery glance around the elevator car. “Uh-oh. I know what thees place is.”

“You’re not in Hell,” Cait rushed to reassure her, “but I did bring you back to where you were murdered.”

“Joo some mean bitch.” She jerked her head. “Thees the las’ place I wanna be. Crazy sheet happened here.”

Cait offered an apologetic smile. “We know. And it’s going to keep happening unless I can find a way to stop it. That’s why I need you.”

“Joo don’ understand.” Her hands clenched. “He ain’t human.”

“Believe me, Sylvia, I’m well aware of that fact.”

“Send me back,” the woman said, stomping one pink stiletto.

“I will,” Cait said, ignoring Jason’s raised eyebrows. “As soon as we have what we need. And as soon as I figure out how to do that,” she added under her breath.

“What?” Sylvia’s dark eyebrows drew together in a ferocious frown. “Joo brought me here and joo don’ know how to send me back?”

Cait winced at the woman’s shout. “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure this spell would even work,” she said, holding up the napkin, “but if I can summon you, surely I can put you back.”

Sylvia huffed and folded her arms over her bosomy chest. “I gotta bad feeling about joo, mija. Some bruja joo are.”

As she blew out a deep breath, Cait’s cheeks billowed. “Just stay close. The guy you were coming to meet, can you tell me anything about him?”

Sylvia’s dark gaze slid sideways to Cait. “Joo know about him?”

“Oscar told us everything.”

“Oscar! Pfft! Why I ever married him, I don’ know. Man liked to use his fists to ween arguments.”

“The police are wondering if maybe he was in cahoots with your lover boy.”

“No es posible. Eduardo is everything that slimy toad eez not. Kind, romantic—did joo know he called me his mariposa—”

“Rubia, I know. I get it. He was a doll. But he might also have been an incubus.”

At Sylvia’s blank stare, Cait shrugged. “Another kind of demon. A seducer.”

“Mija, now that I can believe.” She sighed. “He was more handsome than Antonio Banderas.”

“Antonio?” Cait asked, wondering if there was another boyfriend lurking around.

“Banderas—joo know. Zorro! So handsome he took away my breat’. And so kind…” Her eyelids dipped dreamily.

Cait couldn’t recall anyone among the guests who resembled the actor. “She says her boyfriend looked like Antonio Banderas.”

“A shape-shifting incubus?” Jason murmured.

Cait pursed her lips. “Well, hell. Then that would mean he could be anyone.” She sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head as she realized the creature’s true nature. “He changes appearance, even demeanor, according to a woman’s fantasies. That’s how he plays them.” Her heart thudded sickeningly against her chest. “Fuck, that’s how he played me!”

“What?” Jason’s gaze sharpened and he edged closer. “Sam know about this?”