the effect of being forced out of their bodies, I knew there had already been damage done to the living souls of Delamar, Sterling, and Goss. I doubted that they would be able to just slip back into place while the ghosts were busy doing the bidding of Hazzard and Limos. They might even be dragged along and destroyed by the psychic carnage that would reign over the Great Wheel if I couldn’t stop this horrifying plan.
My fears surely showed on my face. Westman looked panicked as he said, “Why? Why Jordy?”
“It’s not because he’s Jordy; it’s because he’s been . . . occupied by ghosts. And the ghosts are tied to this event. If it goes off as someone plans, a lot of people will die, and the ghosts will be burned up like fuel.”
“Jordy’s not dead. He’s not a ghost.”
I was relieved that he seemed to have no problem with the concept of ghosts and possession, but it was a lot to swallow anyhow, and the news didn’t get better. “No, he’s still here, but . . . without control of his body, he’s not really anchored anymore and he may not be able to resist being taken along in this storm.” I pointed at the clouds of faces. Then I looked at Westman. Did he believe me? It certainly sounded crazy.
He peered at me with narrowed eyes, his lips pursing and unpursing as he thought about what I’d said. But remarkably, he didn’t reject it or me. “You’re saying that this . . . this stuff that’s been happening to Jordy is ghosts, trying to warn us about something. This event? Whatever it is.”
I nodded, giving the smallest of mental pushes to incline him to believe what I was saying. It was cheating and I felt bad about it, but I needed his cooperation and understanding. Was that as bad as what Quinton’s dad did? Not in degree but in kind? I wasn’t sure, but I hoped it wasn’t. I couldn’t claim to have no agenda, but I did think mine was better than Purlis’s.
“Crazy,” Westman said. He sat down, shaking his head. “I’d say it couldn’t be true, but I’ve sat here every day since . . . I don’t even know when anymore, and watched this stuff happening, these words showing up on his skin, this restlessness, the helplessness . . . and I know he’s begging for help, but I can’t seem to give it to him. And you come along and say it’s ghosts. And I don’t even think that’s impossible anymore. But how can I do this? How can I keep on sitting here and watching this when it’s not even my Jordy there, reaching out?”
“But it is, in a way. It’s not just because Jordan is injured, but because he allows them to come through him,” I said. I didn’t really know if this was true, but I hoped it was. “He may have had no choice originally, but I think he wants this to end as much as they do, so he lets them come. Look at how clear this is. This writing isn’t even like it was a day or two ago—it’s stronger and more fluid. We need to help him.”
“What am I supposed to do? I’ve already done everything!” Westman said, his voice thick with frustration and mental anguish.
“I have a plan. It is going to sound totally nuts, but I believe it will work.”
Westman gazed at me as if I’d promised him the earth and heaven, too. “What is it? What do I do?”
“You come to a seance tonight.”
He pulled back from me, scowling. “Seance?”
“If there are ghosts, doesn’t it make sense that a seance is the way to talk to them, to force them to let go of Jordan and change their plans?”
“I . . . I guess,” he said with a conflicted shrug.
“This message on his arms,” I said, carefully pointing to the whole stream of information leading to his two upturned palms, “appears to say that two forces will converge on this object at ten o’clock. That’s my best guess and it fits with information I’ve had from other sources. This event could kill hundreds of people. And we can stop it if you will come and help me and the other families of these patients to talk to the ghosts. Please.”
He seemed dazed and exhausted, blinking at me as if he didn’t quite see me. “Family,” he murmured. “I wish . . . we had a family. Were a family. This . . . this is killing me, to be cut off from him and from being together by such incomprehensible things, such wild insanity I can’t conceive or contain.” A tear escaped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. “You have me at your mercy. I can’t fight anymore. I’ll try anything. Tell me where to be and when and I’ll be there.”
I felt no elation, only hollow pain at his complete lack of resistance. The situation had broken him and anyone could have used him to their own ends at this point. I hated what I was doing to him and I had to do it. If it worked, maybe he’d get his lover back. I hoped that would be the case and despaired that it might not. And time felt so short, so very short. . . .
“It will be nine o’clock,” I guessed, judging from the number in Delamar’s left palm and giving us an hour to reach into the Grey and put a halt to this before the situation became too dire to stop. “I’ll call you and tell you where in Seattle. Can you work with that?”
He nodded. “I’ll do it.”
I got his phone number and extracted his listless promise to answer when I called. He let me take photos of the message on Delamar’s skin for reference. When I left, he was staring down at Delamar, slow tears falling down his face. He didn’t even notice my departure.
TWENTY-THREE
Frustration and a dull-edged panic sawed at my nerves. Time seemed both too short and too long. I’d returned to the Land Rover and was sitting in the front seat, trying to think of where I could assemble this seance when Lily Goss called to say she’d persuaded Stymak to do it. He hadn’t been pleased, but for her, he’d agreed. She was also working on the location, but had had no luck with such short notice for something that needed such a degree of privacy. She had already thought of her own place and rejected it for fear of injuring Julianne or upsetting Wrothen. I agreed that wouldn’t do.
I thought that we’d want to be near the waterfront if possible and reluctantly suggested my office. The area would still be busy, but more of the crowd would gravitate to the docks once night fell. The fireworks were set to begin at ten—which would ensure that the Great Wheel was fully packed with tourists willing to pay for the best, if fleeting, view. I hoped it wouldn’t begin with the wrong sort of bang.
And now things began to move fast—it all had to come together in less than five hours on a major holiday, within blocks of the waterfront and all those oblivious revelers—and what had seemed like a wasteland of empty time became an obstacle race. Lily and I arranged for her to get Stymak and his equipment to my office by eight. I made phone calls to Olivia and Westman, quick calls telling them where to be, when, and how to get there and trying to allay their fears. I rushed to rearrange my office, find more chairs, move my computer to a safer location, and make room for the shrine.
I left a message for Carlos, certain that he’d have no problem showing up on time, but still fearing he wouldn’t, since the sun wouldn’t be properly down until after nine. Then I paged Quinton and paced around in nervous anticipation until he finally called me back.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
I tried not to sound like the ball of nerves that I was. “Hey, yourself. How’s your dad?”
“Apparently he’ll live. What’s up at your end?”
“Oh, you know: Carlos and I get to hold an emergency meeting with the families this evening at my office. I’m there now rearranging things. I don’t have room for the computer so I’m probably going to move it”—I paused, worried that Purlis’s minions might be listening in—“to that other storage unit we visited, just to keep it from being smashed to hell and gone if anything goes awry.”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass. Why your office?”
“I couldn’t think of any other place close enough to the waterfront that we could secure on such short notice. Major holiday and all that jazz.”
“Cameron couldn’t have come up with something?”
I stopped. “I actually hadn’t thought of that. But I’m not sure I’d want to do this in any space that was not really under my control, if you follow my thinking.”
“Yeah, it’s probably best to avoid the entanglements of other people’s agendas.”
“I’m thinking the same thing. Anyhow . . . no one’s trying to kill me today, so this might be easier than I think.”
Quinton laughed. “Don’t be too sure. Do you think you can get any help from Solis with the waterfront problem?”
