Shattered Souls Read online

  Sam nodded. “Any suggestions what I should tell the guys about why I need that information?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Tell them he might have had a communicable disease. That everyone who touched him’ll need testing.”

  “That’ll hold only until the ME finishes his exam and determines cause of death.”

  “Might stall him a bit if someone puts the bug in his ear that he has to use extra precautions.”

  Sam nodded, smiling. “Glad you’re on my side. I’ll be right back.”

  She caught his shirtsleeve. “I want to see Celeste today, too. But I need something of Donnelly’s. A piece of clothing. She’s a medium. She might be able to pick up something.” At his tightening lip, she added, “It’s just another lead.”

  Sam’s gaze flicked over her again. “You look wrung out. Why not head over to Celeste’s? I’ll meet you there. You don’t want to go to the morgue.”

  She’d never liked the smells. And morgues were almost as noisy as graveyards. She gave him a little smile. “Think I’ll puke my guts?”

  “No, but why go if I can handle it without turning interesting shades of green?”

  Cait smiled. Such a considerate gesture. “Thanks, Sam.”

  “No problem.” He drew in a deep breath. “Wish I could kiss you.”

  She glanced around. “Better not. They might think I’ve rubbed off on you. You’ll be their new Full Moon Babe.”

  His fingers slid atop hers and gave her a pat. Then he jerked his chin toward the door. “I won’t be long. Go. I’ll arrange for a uniform to drive you.”

  Cait stood, stiffening her back as all gazes swung her way again, pasted an I-don’t-give-a-fuck look on her face, and strode out.

  After she’d been dropped at her place, grabbed her car keys, and headed out again, she was halfway to Celeste’s when her cell phone sang “Bad to the Bone.”

  “Were you gonna call and tell me what the hell’s happening?” Jason asked, his voice crisp.

  “We still have a case. For now. You heard about Donnelly?”

  “Yeah. News is saying there’ll be an investigation into his death.”

  “Protocol. He died of heart failure.”

  “And you know this how?”

  She heard an interested note in his voice. “I was there when it happened.”

  A whistle blew in her ear. “Bet Leland loved that.”

  “Between the bombing and Donnelly croaking, let’s just say I’m not his favorite person at the moment.”

  “I spoke to Lisa’s parents. They know about Henry and Donnelly. They’re ragged. Want answers. Do we have any?”

  “Not yet, but if you’ll meet me at Celeste’s I have a list of places for you to hit to see if we can develop any new leads. Only thing me and Sam can think of is to trace Donnelly to any work sites or places where he might have squatted.”

  “I’m out the door. See you in ten.”

  Ten minutes later, Celeste met her at the shop door, hands clutched together. A frown deepened the fine lines beside her dark eyes. “Been waitin’ for you, chérie. Spirits are buzzin’.”

  “Bet they are.” Cait stepped past her and breathed in the familiar sweet and herbal scents.

  “Somet’in’ happened. Been seein’ the news.” Celeste followed on soft, padded steps. “You get da man who tried to kill you?”

  “Not quite. The guy was possessed. The demon jumped hosts.”

  Celeste clucked and made the sign of the cross over her chest, although Cait was pretty sure she’d never been Catholic.

  Celeste arched an eyebrow. “Never hurts to cover all da bases.” She canted her head, her keen eyes glancing at Cait’s face. Then her arms opened.

  With a grateful sigh, Cait accepted the warm embrace. “Needed that,” she said, her voice muffled against the soft, silky fabric of the blue-and-green tunic Celeste wore.

  Celeste’s arms tightened. Her breath caught. “So much tension inside you. So much swirlin’ in dat brain of yours, gal. Let me see. Maybe I can help.”

  Pulling back from the embrace, Cait held the older woman’s arms. “I came to warn you.”

  Celeste’s brows rose. “Think I’m in some kind o’ danger?”

  “We all are.” Her fingers tightened. “You, me, Morin.”

  Celeste snorted. “Morin’s in no danger.”

  “Because of the spell around his place?”

  “That, and he’s a powerful sorcerer. Most powerful I’ve ever known.”

  “He’s not impervious.”

  “Damn near, chère. But you don’ know the whole story.”

  “Will you tell me sometime?”

  “I think I tell you now. Before dat jealous man of yours gets here.”

  Cait shook her head. “Wish you wouldn’t do that. Read me.”

  “You know me how long now? Think I accept any boundaries? I don’ see you in a decade and you ’spect me to wait for you to tell me everyt’ing been happenin’?” With a shake of her head, she clucked again. “Come inside. I’ll tell you a story.”

  “Jason’s on his way.”

  Celeste sighed. “Need one of dose time-stand-still spells Morin does. You need to know some t’ings.”

  “All I have time for now is to find a demon. Sam’s coming with Donnelly’s clothes, something for you to touch. So we can figure out where’s he’s been, what he’s seen.”

  “You don’t want me seein’.” Celeste pointed a finger and stabbed gently at Cait’s chest. “You must see.”

  Cait shook her head. “I’m not a psychic.”

  “But you kin see if you let me show you how. You’re burstin’ wide those doors.” Celeste eyed her deepening scowl and shrugged. “You kin try. That’s all I’m sayin’. Think of what you need, then say the words. Jus’ like in the graveyard. You want it bad enough, you’ll make it work.”

  They made their way back to the reading room, and Celeste picked up the crystal ball from the pedestal in the center of her table and put it on a shelf. Then she pulled a box from beneath another shelf concealed by a gauzy curtain. She bent and rummaged through the items, muttering under her breath, before giving a soft, “Ah-ha, there you be.” She raised her hand to reveal another ball, this one a little milky and occluded. “This be your mother’s ball. Mine’s no good for you. It’s charged wit’ my energy.”

  With an extended hand, Celeste held it out to Cait.

  Although reluctant to touch it, Cait took it, cupping it in her palm.

  Celeste set a rag and a spray bottle of some liquid on the table in front of her. “We don’t have time to cleanse it in moonlight, so spray it wit’ da water—there’s vinegar in it.” Next she placed an incense burner in front of her and lit a cone. “When you’re done cleanin’ it wit’ the vinegar, wave the ball through the smoke. Place your hands around the ball. Clear it wit’ your mind. Think about takin’ dirty laundry from a hamper, sortin’ it into stacks by the side. Remove the pieces of your mother’s energy from the ball. Then t’ink about what you want dis ball to do for you.”

  Wishing she could shove the ball back at Celeste, Cait shifted on her seat. Her aunt wanted her to cleanse it. Wash it clear of any trace of Lorene O’Connell. Her throat tightened, burned. Even if she knew how, why would she want to? She stared into the hazy ball, thinking that maybe if she looked hard enough she might see something of her mother there. But like those clouds her mother had her watch when they lay on their backs in the grass in the backyard, all she saw were milky striations in the pale pink quartz.

  Nothing was there. Just a pretty, smooth orb that warmed atop her hand the longer it lay there.

  Celeste tilted her head. “That be Jason. I’ll be back.” And she swept out of the room, leaving Cait holding the ball.

  “So, Mama, you in there?” she whispered, feeling stupid, but some perverse little imp inside her goaded her to try. As angry as she’d been with her mother for years, she still yearned for connection. Nothing happened. Not a murmur in her ear. Not a gho
stly wisp.

  She picked up the spray bottle of vinegar and cleaned dust from the ball. Then she waved it through the incense smoke, not thinking of anything in particular. Until she began thinking about the investigation again. About trying to find where Donnelly had been hanging out. A door in the distance opened, the smoke from the small cone wafted in her face, and Cait coughed. Damn sandalwood. She sneezed, and spit splattered the ball.

  With her sleeve, because no one was around to see, she polished the ball clean. Light flashed inside it. Alarmed, Cait set it in the pedestal before sliding the burner far across the table.

  Jason pushed through the glass bead curtain and gave her a nod. “You have that list?”

  Glad for a real-world task, she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled it out. “These are the stores he hit. The dates are from the receipts. The amounts might help the clerks pull up the records in the computer. Maybe they can tell you something. Also, he had Chinese takeout. Not sure if it was something he picked up or was delivered. See what you can find. That’s all we’ve got right now.”

  “You OK?” Jason folded the list and put it away. “You were there when he went down.”

  “Donnelly was possessed by a demon. He didn’t remember anything that happened to him while the demon was inside, and that thing was definitely gone by the time we got to him. He might be in a cop right now, so watch out for uniforms.”

  Jason’s hazel gaze sharpened, and he nodded. “A skin-walker, then?”

  “That’s seems our best bet.”

  Jason shuddered. “All right then. Later.” With a little salute, he left.

  Celeste leaned across the table and pushed the crystal ball sitting in the stand toward Cait. She went to her cupboard and the crocks of stubby candles, selected a black one, lit it, and placed it in a holder, which she set behind the ball. “You know what to do. You watched me many times.”

  Inexperience quivered inside, and Cait shook her head. “It’s never going to work.”

  “Won’t know ’less you try. And if it don’ work this time, you must practice. Morin t’inks you have powers beyond what you already know.” Celeste wagged her finger. “But you’re stubborn. You resist. You want to live in one world, not embrace da other dat’s your birthright.”

  Because she knew everything Celeste said was true, she didn’t argue. She bent toward the ball as her aunt extinguished the ceiling light.

  Candlelight flickered behind the ball, seemingly captured. The crystal glowed.

  Cait sought the quiet place inside her, but the soundtrack of her life, the vague voices in her head, hummed, growing in intensity, like her heartbeat when she lay in bed alone with only its sound to keep her company.

  She thought of the clouds in the sky, the fluffy white lambs and owls her mother had shown her but she’d never cared to see. Thought about the dreams she’d had the past couple of nights that hovered at the edges of her conscious mind. They’d come unbidden, creeping silently into her mind to replay in vivid colors. She’d seen the passion-red petals, smelled the sickly sweet dragon oil, heard her mother’s voice, clear as day as she’d begun the chant to empower the spell bag.

  Then Cait’s mind flitted to her memories of Morin, which interspersed with the encounters she’d shared with Sam in Morin’s shop.

  In the sparkling flame trapped inside the crystal ball, she saw a shadow hovering behind Morin as he sat at his small kitchen table—a familiar form. A woman dressed in a broomstick skirt that flirted around her coltish legs. Hair that hung in thick curls to a tiny, waifish waist.

  Had her mother been there all along, or was she only hoping, her imagination painting that figure into her memory?

  “You doin’ fine, ma petite. Let go. See what’s there. Who waits.”

  Cait couldn’t look away from the figure standing behind Morin’s shoulder. “This isn’t real,” she said faintly, not wanting her rational mind to intrude, but also stubbornly unwilling to believe.

  “She’s always been there. She waits.” Celeste’s voice was soothing, cajoling. “For you to see.”

  “Not why I’m here, Tante. Not what I need, not now.”

  “Are you sure ’bout dat? Were you feelin’ sad? Alone?”

  Cait swallowed as the figure’s blurred edges refined. Definitely her mother. “This some wish ball? I see what I want?”

  “The ball is charged wit’ your magic. Just a hunk of polished stone. What you see is what your magic projects. Like a viewin’ screen of a video camera.” Celeste rested a hand on her chest. “I see what is, sometimes what jus’ happened. Your mama saw what would come. What do you see?”

  “This has already happened. It’s just my own memory—but different. Maybe clarified? How’s that supposed to help me?”

  “Don’ know yet. Thought I’d let you try.”

  Cait wanted to blink, to pretend that what she saw didn’t matter. But the thought that her mother might be with her, or with Morin, somewhere she might find her again, had the back of her throat burning with the tears she refused to let fall.

  The image remained as it was, a sharp-edged shadow. No further resolution. Perhaps that’s all she could manage. Shadows in a dumb crystal ball. She blinked, drew a deep breath, and pushed away the ball. “I don’t want it.” If she kept it, she might become obsessed with staring endlessly into its murky depths. She needed to stay in the real world.

  “I’ll keep it here for you,” Celeste said.

  “Whatever,” she muttered, then ducked her head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “I know dis is hard for you. Dat you wanted a normal life. One wit’out ghosts and magic messin’ wit’ your mind. Morin…did his spell help you?”

  “I’m not feeling the effects of withdrawal, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want a drink.” She lifted her hand. “No shakes.” She offered a slight smile.

  “Your man’s comin’?”

  “He’ll have something for you. If this is too much…if you don’t feel good about looking…”

  “What I want, what you want…we sacrifice our own peace o’ mind in return for da gifts we are given.”

  “Too deep for me.”

  Celeste shook her head. “You sound like your father. Stubborn as well. Didn’t like magic. Thought the practice seduced your mother away from him.”

  Not something she’d heard before. “I saw him,” Cait blurted. “At O’Malley’s last night. Sitting with a ghost-buddy and drinking a Guinness.”

  “Did it help, knowin’ he’s here?”

  Memory of the shock of that moment filled her, and she shrugged. “He knows I can see him now.”

  “You t’inkin’ when dis is all done, dat maybe you’ll use your new powers to talk to him?”

  Cait bit her bottom lip, keeping hope at bay. “Think I might be able to?”

  “I don’ know. But it’s wort’ tryin’, n’est-ce pas?” Celeste turned toward the door a moment before Cait heard the tinkle of the bell.

  “Put away the ball,” she whispered.

  Celeste clucked. “Not tellin’ him what you can do?”

  “I won’t lie if he asks. But I’m trying not to overwhelm him. He’s had to accept a lot already.”

  “Dat man’s strong.” She chuckled. “He put up wit’ you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Cait!” The solid tread of Sam’s shoes tromped through the shop.

  “Back here, Sam,” she called out, watching as Celeste eased the ball back into its package and shoved it under the table skirt, out of sight.

  Sam strode in with an open evidence bag in his hand. “I brought what you asked. The ME wasn’t happy. Donnelly’s shirt do?”

  Cait gave him a smile. “Just glad you didn’t bring his underwear.”

  “Nice to see you, Celeste,” he said, nodding the older woman’s way. “She tell you?”

  Her aunt shrugged. “Maybe not everyt’ing. There’s not been time.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow at Cait.

  M
ore than an hour had passed.

  Cait wrinkled her nose. “Jason was here. I gave him the list. Then it was just girl talk.”

  His weight shifted between his feet. He grunted and his eyelids narrowed.

  Her lips curved ruefully. He knew that’s the last thing she’d be doing.

  He dropped the bag in front of Celeste and then drew a chair from the side of the wall and sat at the table, his expression brooding.

  Celeste emptied the bag on the table and reached for the dirty shirt, scrunching it up with her hands, then bowing her head. But her concentration only lasted a moment before her head jerked back and she let go. “Mon Dieu!” She crossed herself, lips pulling away from her white teeth in a grimace. “Da demon. I felt him. Cold t’ing. Slimy. Stinks.”

  Without her asking, Cait went to the cupboard, found a partially burned bundle of sage, and lit it with a match. She walked around the table, behind Sam and Celeste, blowing at the smoke.

  “Dat be enough, I t’ink,” Celeste said, nodding her approval. “I’ll try again.”

  Cait tapped out the sage bundle into a bowl and took her seat again. “Can you get anything about the man who wore the shirt? Anything from before today?”

  Again, Celeste grasped the shirt, wringing it between her hands until the garment was a tight roll. Her head dipped, eyes closed.

  When her aunt’s expression grew slack, Cait leaned forward.

  Celeste’s head turned, side to side, as though looking around. “See a cave. People diggin’.”

  “The bunker. Before that.”

  Body rocking, Celeste gave a slight shake of her head. “He sleep beneath the mounds. On a bench at the river. Feeds birds wit’ bits of his sandwich.”

  Cait let out a breath. So Donnelly hadn’t been a mean loser.

  “He takes a trolley. A bus. Stops for food. Walks.”

  “Do you see where?” Her heart beat faster. They might find a clue.

  “Houses. Lots of houses. Yards.”

  “A subdivision?”

  Celeste shook her head, brow wrinkling. “A dog barking. Runs to sidewalk and chases him. A man calls it back. House filled wit’ mirrors that move. He pushes through dem. Has a hammer. Fixin’ a shelf. Hear a hum. Like an engine. Has a lantern on a rope.”