Chapter 11
We reconvened for lunch at the bunkhouse.
Mostly because I could cook something safe for Mack to eat, which he always appreciated, but also because our game plan had died a rather dramatic death.
We needed a new one. Booker had buried himself in the files again, and I could hear people chatting in the living room, discussing what had happened and what they should do next.
I was merely support, really; I’d let the experts figure this out.
I was in the kitchen making something quick and easy—namely kielbasa stir-fry with a side of dinner rolls.
Gwyn came up to me, a little timid, but peeking over the island to see what I was chopping. “Can I help?”
“Sure. Peel me about six potatoes.”
“Okay!”
I watched Gwyn get a knife, potatoes, and a little shopping bag to put all the peelings into.
Clearly used to cooking to some degree or another, she peeled potatoes without endangering her fingers.
I never knew about the cooking skills of teenagers.
Abby, Jon’s apprentice, was a kitchen hazard, though she’d recently been learning tricks from my mother.
Who, let’s face it, was a master chef in her own right.
Who better to learn from? Skylar was pretty decent as a cook as long as you didn’t get complicated on her.
Gwyn passed me a peeled potato, which I rinsed and then started chopping.
“Um, Brandon? I’ve got questions.”
“I bet you do, kiddo. Hit me.”
“Is it normal to have a plan, go in, and have your plan go sideways?”
“Unfortunately. Few plans survive first contact. That said, I’ve never seen a case like this, where we’ve had so many false starts.
We’ve now tried three different angles and have been rebuffed all three times.
” I paused in chopping and let out a soul-disrupting sigh.
“I’m going to hate this case. I foresee it now.
Whether or not it’s as bad as the tree case, that remains to be seen. ”
“So, that’s one of my questions. What’s the tree case?”
“Ah. We have referenced it a few times in front of you, huh?” I reflected for a second, trying to find a way of summing up the case. “What happened was, a family of serial killers had been killing anyone with psychic ability, or even just people who weren’t WASP—”
“Weren’t what?”
“White, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant,” I defined wryly.
“Ohhhh.”
“Makes perfect sense, huh?”
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Yeah. So would they have killed me?”
“If they could have. But the other half of the problem was they’d bury their victims under trees. Let’s just say we had a lot of haunted trees. The killings went back two hundred years.”
Her grey eyes flared wide and she made this inarticulate high-pitched sound in the back of her throat.
“Yeah. Then they realized Jon and Mack were psychics and decided it was a grand idea to kidnap and kill them, too. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, trying to find where those two had gone and getting to them in time. But fortunately for all of us, they put up a whale of a fight until the calvary could arrive. Mack boosted all the ghosts of their victims, and one of the ghosts actually killed one of the guys before we could even get there.”
“Whoa.”
“Indeed. That said, Mack slept for, like, three days after the fight. Unless it’s a life-or-death situation, do not recommend.” I gave another soul-rumbling sigh.
“Is that why Mediums need anchors? For protection?”
“Well, that part’s about half and half, really. I like to say I handle the living, Mack handles the dead. We protect each other.”
She nodded, taking in my words, and kept peeling potatoes.
“Mostly, though, we’re a grounding. A way to keep our Medium planted in reality so they can differentiate between living and dead easily. It’s a different way of protecting them but just as vital. Are you nervous? About getting an anchor?”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Don’t be, kiddo. We’ll find you the right person. In fact, my brother-in-law can likely help. As a Reader, he can see compatibility with people, so he can help guide you on who might be a good match.”
I could see the tension drop from her shoulders as her head lifted, expression clearing. “Really? Is he that accurate?”
I snorted. “You can’t get anything past his eyes. Well, almost. But yes, he’s scary accurate.”
“I just realized, watching how you and Mack worked today, that he really depends on you. And if cases sometimes get this bad, I need a dependable partner.”
“That you do. And I’m glad you’re smart enough to put those pieces together. But we’ll make sure you have a good partner, Gwyn. Don’t stress about it. You’ve got years yet before we even need to start thinking about this.”
“Bet.” She handed me another potato. “One more question.”
“Hit me.”
“What am I going to do about school? Am I still attending school here?”
Fuuuuck me. It was Sunday, meaning she’d need an answer tonight because she had to know what she was doing tomorrow.
Now, I knew for a fact she had nothing of her school stuff with her, as it was all still at her parents’ house.
Gwyn hadn’t thought to pack it, and frankly, neither had I.
Not sure which way to leap here, I asked, “Do you want to go to school? Here, I mean.”
Gwyn hesitated strongly. “I’m afraid my parents will find me at school.”
That alone was a very good reason to pull her out.
I did not need that fight on my hands. “I think it’s not really safe for you to be at school anyway.
Let’s pull you out for now and figure out school later.
Really, you working this case will stand you in better stead in life, as you’re truly learning the skills you need. ”
She looked at me with so much gratitude, I almost blushed. “I really didn’t want to go.”
“I bet.” Not considering how much she’d been hurt by ghosts at school. Which was another reason I’d rather keep her close.
Booker came in, phone in hand, although he put it in his pocket as he leaned against the other side of the island. “Oh, you’re cooking already. ETA?”
“Should be done in about thirty minutes. It cooks fast.”
“Great, I’m starved. Also, just got off the phone with the mayor.
I explained, best I could, what the situation is with Miner’s Creek.
Horrified about covers her reaction. She asked if we wanted to start with Black Rock first, and I said yes, because what else are we supposed to do?
I think operating in daylight should be our go-to on this case.
The ghosts are too strong as it is. Doing anything at night is a recipe for disaster. ”
“Agreed, wholeheartedly.”
Gwyn asked, “Why do ghosts have more power at night?”
Booker took the question with glee because he loved this kinda nerdy shit.
He launched into an explanation of the different theories, his soft voice growing stronger as he really got into it.
I let him explain as I finished putting everything into one pan, then popped the rolls in to bake.
Gwyn didn’t just absorb the information, but thought about what Booker said, then came back with more questions.
A sign of true intelligence, in my book. She was a smart cookie, this kid.
They continued their discussion as they helped set the table and dish up food for everyone.
People gathered all around to eat, and I was happy to see Davina.
Even if she did get very little of the food, she felt okay enough to try eating, which was half the battle with food poisoning, in my experience.
I knew this much—she’d never look at a taco truck the same again.
Once everyone was around the table and eating, Booker said, “I think we should switch tactics. We’re no closer to figuring out where that almost-demon is, and that needs to be a priority.”
I agreed but had to wonder, “How do we even begin tracking it down, though? It’s not like we can look up its social media account to get an idea of where it is.”
Quinn made a resigned noise. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Booker, though, wasn’t done. “I suspect we’ll find more information about him if we linger in Black Rock for a while and spread out.
I want to at least figure out this ghost’s name.
I suggest we do people’s homes, as there’s some gnarly reports, and it’s all around better to give people safety.
With the number of Mediums we have, it’ll be easy to divide up the work while we wait on our chaos magician.
It must be done anyway, but hopefully we can get some intel, maybe some recent sightings, to work from. ”
Eli swallowed what was in her mouth before saying, “I think that works. Maybe do some of the smaller locations, too.”
“I’m fine with that,” Mack said. “Spreading out and searching is really our only option. What’s the next location on the agenda?”
“A family bakery with haunted upstairs apartments.” Booker rattled this off easily. “The building was one of the original ones to the town and used to be a mercantile store. It’s three stories but only about four thousand square feet.”
I snorted. “Not a very big building, then. Easy peasy. Mack, we need to pull Gwyn out of school. I don’t want her in a school in this area.”
Mack made a face, nose wrinkled up with aggravation. “No, I don’t either. We’ll take care of it tomorrow. Booker, give us a list of house addresses near the school, and Gwyn and I will handle those.”
“Okay.”
May none of the house ghosts be violent, amen.
Davina piped up. “I think I’ll be well enough to help tomorrow.”
Lachlan eyed his cousin in worry. “Don’t push yourself.”
“Promise I’m not,” she said with a pat on his shoulder. “Just tired now.”
She did seem to be doing better.
“Quit when you need to quit. Don’t relapse on us,” I said.
“Will do.”
“Stick with us tomorrow, Davina, Lachlan,” Quinn suggested. “That way, if you have to quit midway, you can without it causing a ripple effect.”
“Oh, a fine thought. Let’s do that.”