By Familiar Means (7 page)

Pete shook his head. Kenisha looked grim. They'd both been down to have a look at the corpse. “Rough guess, I'd say it was at least a week.”

“Oh.” Miranda covered her mouth, and Jake, who had been trying to maintain at least a little calm while the police trooped in and out of the old drugstore, was looking a little green around the gills.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Luce?” asked Pete gently. “Do you need to sit down?”

But Miranda waved him back.

“Jake, that is, we”—Miranda squeezed her husband's arm—“we'd been experiencing some strange phenomenon over the past month, including some thumping we couldn't explain. We thought . . . we'd been thinking, the building might be haunted.”

“Haunted?” said Pete.

“It was one explanation,” replied Miranda firmly. She might not have believed Jake's claim, but she was not going to talk him down in front of the police. “But, now, I mean, what if . . .”

“What if we were hearing that poor guy pounding on the trapdoor, trying to get out?” Jake reached up under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Oh, man.”

I couldn't help shuddering. My Vibe had been all about secrets and wanting to be discovered. What if that had been an echo of the man's desire to be rescued? His very desperate and dying desire?

“We can't tell anything yet, Mr. Luce,” said Pete. “When did you start hearing these noises?”

“We've really only been in the space for maybe a month,” said Miranda. “Regularly, I mean. We've been in and out for longer. Cleaning, and like that. I guess we've been hearing things for maybe two weeks?” She looked at Jake for
confirmation. “But the contractors say they've been hearing things almost since they started.”

“Well, I'm pretty sure the guy we found could not have been trapped in that tunnel for a whole month,” said Pete. I think he meant it to be reassuring, but he in no way succeeded. “And you didn't see any signs that anybody else had been down there recently?”

“No. None,” said Miranda before I could even get my mouth open.

“Detective Simmons!” shouted a new voice. A paunchy, pale man wearing a bright red blazer and Clark Kent glasses was striding up the street. The wind from the river blew his black tie over his shoulder as he edged his way between the police cruisers. Kenisha moved to intercept him, but Pete waved her back.

“Mr. Hilde,” said Pete coolly. “Sorry to pull you out of your office.”

Mr. Hilde was not a big man, or a young one. In fact, he was only a couple of inches taller than me, and if the lines around his face and the sag in his jowls were anything to go by, he was already on the far side of middle age. His hair, though, was an incongruously dark chestnut brown, and he slicked it back nervously with one hand as he came to stand in front of the detective.

“And I'm sorry to bother you,” Mr. Hilde said to Pete. “But I've got guests wondering what's going on.” Now I could see the hotel crest on the pocket of that bright red blazer. He must be connected with the Harbor's Rest hotel. Then I remembered Jake guessing the door we'd found might open into the hotel.

“I was hoping I could tell our guests there's nothing to worry about.” Behind their thick lenses, Hilde's eyes fastened on Jake and Miranda. Jake grinned back at him and flashed the peace sign. A small, satisfied smile tightened Mr. Hilde's sagging mouth. “But maybe I'm wrong. What'd they finally catch you at, Luce?”

Jake shrugged. “Not a darned thing, Dale. Disappointed?”

“No, just surprised.” Dale Hilde was still smiling, and it was not a nice expression.

“Jake,” murmured Miranda. “Stay cool.”

“Oh!” cried Grandma. Very suddenly and very uncharacteristically, she stumbled and toppled over, right into Dale Hilde's arms. He caught her automatically and awkwardly.

“Oh, I am
so
sorry!” Grandma grabbed both his wrists to steady herself, even as I lunged forward to help bring her back upright. “I caught my shoe on the curb.” She blinked at him myopically and I felt my fingers prickling. Again. “Why, you must be one of Gretchen's boys!” she said happily to Mr. Hilde. “You look just like her!”

“I . . . uh . . . yes,” he mumbled. He also rubbed his palms against his trousers and turned right back to Pete. “Detective Simmons? My guests? I can tell them this is nothing, right? You'll be gone soon?”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Hilde, I can't tell you when we'll be finished here,” said Detective Simmons. “In fact, I'm probably going to have to bring some of my people into the hotel.”

Dale took at step back. His gaze slid straight back to Jake and Miranda. “What for?”

“Can you tell me anything about an old tunnel, maybe a historic smugglers' tunnel, that leads into the hotel?”

Hilde's eyes skittered this way and that, taking in the crowd, the flashing lights and the uniforms. His smile had vanished. He slicked his dark hair back again. “Well, you know, it's an old building. There were always rumors. But I can't say anybody's ever found anything that I know about. Not that we've ever looked especially hard.”

“That's a shame. But I'm afraid it doesn't make a lot of difference,” said Pete, his considerable patience finally stretched a little thin. “I hope you'll let my people have a look inside the hotel basement. I can, of course, get a warrant if that will make things easier with the rest of the management . . .”

Mr. Hilde slicked his hair back again. For good measure, he smoothed down his black tie. “Of course Harbor's Rest is always happy to cooperate with the police, but can you tell me what this is about?”

“We've found a body, Mr. Hilde, in a tunnel which appears to end at your hotel.”

Mr. Hilde flushed bright red. “I cannot tell that to our guests,” he announced, as if the discovery of a corpse was some highly personal inconvenience. Detective Simmons did not even flinch.

“They're going to find out, I'm afraid. So, I'm sure what you want is to help us clear this all up as quickly and quietly as possible.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Naturally. I, um, would it be all right if your people used the deliveries entrance?”

“Of course,” said Pete blandly. “We certainly don't want to alarm your guests.”

“Thank you, Detective. I'll, um, I'll go and tell my brother, and my mother, and our day manager, and . . .

“Officer Freeman will go with you,” said Pete. “To help with the explanations.”

“After you, Mr. Hilde.” Kenisha stepped back. Mr. Hilde slicked his hair back one more time but let himself be escorted back up toward the grand white hotel that towered over the river's bend.

Pete sighed and glanced through his notebook. “Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Luce, Miss Britton. I think we got what we need for now. There will probably be more questions later, once we know what we're dealing with here. Jake, Miranda, you two try to take it easy, all right? Miss Britton.” He nodded at me, and he did not look entirely happy. I couldn't blame him. We'd met over a dead body once before. Probably the detective did not like coincidences. I could completely sympathize.

“Come along, Anna,” said Julia.

I did, and so did Grandma B.B., of course. I was pretty sure Alistair was already gone in his own kind of way.

But I also looked back over my shoulder, and I saw Miranda slip her arm through Jake's. I also saw Pete Simmons watching us all leave.

I shivered then, hard.

7

I knew Julia was upset. I expected I was going to get called onto the carpet as soon as we got to her apartment and closed the door against prying (and police) ears.

Turns out I was wrong. Julia wasn't upset. She was livid.

Julia's apartment is a converted loft above Midnight Reads. The large front room is furnished with a magnificent collection of Victorian furniture and art glass paperweights, most of them spherical. Yes, in fact, Julia Parris, head of the guardian coven of Portsmouth, has a collection of crystal balls. She keeps them on ornate stands spaced among her magnificent collection of dachshund-themed knickknacks, which cover every surface that isn't otherwise occupied, mainly with books.

As soon as we reached the living room, Julia sat in her mahogany and gold velveteen chair by the fireplace with both hands folded on top of her walking stick and both dachshunds at her feet. There was a china cup and saucer on the round table beside her.

Grandma B.B. sat down on one end of the sofa. A matching
cup waited on the oval coffee table. I sat down on the sofa, too, and tried not to be nervous. It didn't work.

“Now, Anna,” Julia began.

“Yip!” interrupted Leo. Max was already trotting toward the window.

We all looked, of course. Between the cream-colored lace curtains, we saw Alistair, pacing on the sill outside.

“Merow?” His questioning voice vibrated through the pane. Julia's home was magically warded, so it was one of the few spaces where Alistair couldn't just pop in.

Julia sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, looking for patience. “Very well. Let him in.”

I unlatched the window. As soon as I pushed up the sash and screen, Alistair flowed onto the carpet. Max and Leo, of course, had to sniff around his ankles and belly. Alistair tolerated this for a surprising length of time.

“Sorry, Julia.” I sat back down on the sofa. Alistair immediately jumped up onto my lap and hunkered down out of reach of Max and Leo, who yipped a few times in complaint. Alistair yawned and started washing his whiskers at them.

“Now, Anna,” repeated Julia firmly, and the words could have been chipped out of ice. “You will explain to me
exactly
what you were doing at Miranda and Jake's.”

“You did have us worried, dear,” murmured Grandma B.B. “But I'm sure it wasn't your fault.”

“Oh, no,” said Julia darkly. “None of this is Anna's fault.”

“I wasn't doing anything!” I blurted out. “Well, nothing much . . .” There are few things worse than hearing yourself suddenly channeling your inner kindergartener. The fact that I really might have inched closer to my grandmother at that point did not make it any better.

“Nothing much,” repeated Julia. “I see. Jake and Miranda just suggested that you all go for a stroll down a lost tunnel and you thought, ‘Sure, why not?'”

“Julia,” began Grandma. “The sarcasm is not—”

Julia held up her hand to cut Grandma B.B. off. “I'll
thank you to stay out of this, Annabelle.” Leo and Max lifted their heads, noses and ears suddenly on the alert.

“She is my granddaughter,” replied Grandma B.B. evenly. Alistair climbed up my front and onto the curving back of the sofa so he could come settle down behind my shoulders. I pulled him back down and held on to him. He tolerated this, although both dachshunds watched us suspiciously.

“Yes, Anna is your granddaughter, but she has taken an oath as my apprentice,” said Julia flatly. “She has sworn to abide by the rules
I
set.”

“And of course there could not possibly be extenuating circumstances,” murmured Grandma.

Alistair jumped out of my arms and instead head butted Grandma's elbow, but Grandma B.B. resolutely refused to pay attention. She also didn't seem to notice that both the dachshunds had moved closer to Julia and raised their ears and tails.

“The extenuating circumstances are what we're trying to determine,” Julia said with that slow and careful patience that comes when you need to clarify something that ought to be perfectly obvious. “
If
you're finished interrupting.”

“I wouldn't have to interrupt if you were ready to listen to
my granddaughter
with an open mind.”

“This is not about
your granddaughter
—”

“Okay, okay!” I held up both hands. Clearly, my earlier hopes for a speedy reconciliation between these two were a tad bit premature. “Grandma, it's all right. Julia . . . I really wasn't doing any magic. Jake and Miranda thought their new building might be haunted.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but nonchalant is very hard to pull off when you're talking about the possibility of ghosts. “Well, Jake did anyway, and they wanted me to . . . give it the once-over for a Vibe.”

“But, Anna, dear!” murmured Grandma. “Opening your mind without proper preparation, you could let in all
kinds
of unwanted influences—”

She didn't get any further. Julia spoke softly, but the words went through me with more force than any shout ever
could. “You did this after you swore an oath that you would not use your magic without supervision and permission?”

“I wasn't actually using magic,” I muttered, but even Alistair was giving me the fish-eye. “The Vibe was so strong in there, I was having trouble keeping it out.”

“What do I have to do to convince you that your ability to receive and interpret vibrations is your strongest magic?” Julia glowered, but not at me. This time her icy disapproval was entirely for Grandma B.B. “It is the magic of your heritage and your spirit. You have only just begun to actively attempt to control it, and you don't know what it will do to you or cause you to do. None of us do. That is why we must proceed carefully.”

“But Jake and Miranda needed help,” I said, and, yes, I did hear how limp that sounded. “They were arguing about it. I thought I could help if I just sort of took a quick peek, just to reassure them, because ghosts don't exist.”

I waited for Julia, or Grandma B.B., to tell me I was right about that. They didn't. Instead, Julia turned a look of absolute shock and disbelief on my grandmother. Leo whined and pawed at Julia's ankles, but Max gave a low growl.

“We will return to that later.” Julia picked Max up and laid him across her lap. “Regardless. Anna, you did not just take a quick peek.” Julia gave those last three words a particularly tart twist. “You led two innocent people into a genuinely dangerous situation.”

“I . . .” I started to say I did not, but I couldn't seem to finish my sentence. I looked to Grandma B.B. for help, but she was busy watching her own hands, which were knotted in her lap. Alistair butted her elbow again. She reached out and scooped him up against her stomach. The sight of my familiar doing his best to comfort my grandmother made something twist under my heart.

Julia thumped her cane once, jerking my attention back to her.

“You didn't think about what you were doing, did you?” she snapped. “You just followed your Vibe. You didn't stop
to consider how unstable that tunnel must be. And despite my lessons and your own studies, you didn't think that this ‘ghost' that Jake felt might be something dangerous or malevolent? You thought you could just dismiss
all
the warnings about negative energies and influences.”

She was absolutely right about that last. I was still wrapping my head around the idea that there might be a real ghost at all. A malevolent ghost was a whole new level of creepy, and I was not ready to go there.

Alistair stopped trying to hold Grandma's attention and settled back onto my lap. He did not, however, take his attention off Max and Leo for even a split second.

“Did you even suggest that the three of you should wait until magical, if not physical, help could be brought in?” I swear Julia's eyes flashed—I mean really flashed, like Alistair's did in the dark.

“No,” I admitted. Now that Julia said it out loud, I felt very cold. I was sure I had at least thought about telling Jake and Miranda we should wait and get help, but the truth was, the whole event was turning into one big blur inside me. The only emotion that held steady was that overwhelming sense of wanting to know what was down there. Nothing else had seemed quite as important. Not even when I saw how easily the dirt cascaded down from the walls, or the kind of shape those old support beams were in.

Miranda had been the only one sounding a real note of caution. In fact, she hadn't wanted to go at all. I could have backed her up. I could have put my foot down and said none of us should go at all. But I didn't. I'd wanted to uncover all the secrets.

“Julia, you don't need to be quite that dramatic,” said Grandma B.B. “Look at her face. You're scaring her half to death.”

“Good!” Julia thumped her cane again and we all jumped, including the dachshunds. “She should be scared. Maybe it will teach her a lesson.”

“Julia. This is
not
Anna's fault.”

“
This
is,” shot back Julia. “Now, as for the rest of it—”

“What do you mean the rest of it?” snapped Grandma, but Julia ignored her.

“I mean all the rest of it. Jake and Miranda could have been killed. Your granddaughter, Annabelle, could have been killed. Not that you've ever evidenced any genuine concern about her well-being when it comes to her magic—”

Grandma shot to her feet. “How
dare
you!”

“How dare
you
!”

The dachshunds had gone very still. Alistair tensed, and I felt the lightest prickling of claws through my jeans.

“Grandma, Julia—” I tried, but that's as far as I got.

“You have no right to say I do not care about my granddaughter, you old prune!” shouted Grandma.

“Don't I?” replied Julia coldly. “You ran away, Annabelle. You broke your promises and abandoned your responsibilities. You did not even test your granddaughter for her abilities. You let her
suffer
for most of her life under the delusion that she had a mental illness!”

Grandma said nothing. Two bright spots of color appeared in her cheeks.

“We would not be having this problem now if you'd taught and trained Anna properly. She is your
family
. Your first duty was to tell her the truth about her heritage and you didn't. But now!” Julia threw up her hand. “Annabelle Blessingsound has changed her mind! Again! After all these years she says she has her granddaughter's best interests at heart, so it's all right and we should just trust her!”

“That's enough, Julia!” I felt Alistair tense to spring, and I grabbed hold of him before he did something we'd all regret.

“No, Anna,” whispered Grandma B.B., and her voice shook from the force of everything she was holding in. “She's right. She's just . . . right.”

Grandma ran from the room. Before I could get to my feet, the door was slammed shut behind her.

I had no idea she could still move like that.