Chapter 8 #3
“Can you think of anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt her?” Arthur asked.
Ambrosia shook her head sadly. “No.” Another dramatic pause, significant enough to catch Sal’s wandering attention. “But I intend to ask her.”
“Ask her?” Arthur hesitated. “You can speak to ghosts?”
“I have at times served as a conduit to the spirits. In fact, perhaps you can help me now. I was planning a full séance at Lola’s memorial, but we have enough power between us to try something a little simpler.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur got a bit of a chill.
He might’ve been dead himself, but that was no reason to go poking around in matters so far beyond the living world.
He didn’t like to think about what those from his past who’d long been (and remained) dead might have to say about him now.
But this wasn’t about Arthur’s ghosts. This was about Lola’s murder, which Arthur was much more comfortable digging into.
Ambrosia went to the bookshelf and pulled something from behind a stack of potion manuals. It was a wooden board, folded in half with a messily scrawled signature on the back that Arthur couldn’t quite make out. She opened it on the table with a flourish to reveal an ornate Ouija board.
“This belonged to my great-grandmother, and has been passed down through generations of witches in my family.” Ambrosia sat at the table, gesturing the others to do the same. “Join me in this sacred practice.”
Sal plopped down with gusto. “I love board games!”
“This is no game, Ringo Moon.”
For a moment Arthur had forgotten Sal’s cover name, and he nearly snorted a laugh.
He got control of himself just in time. They were here investigating a murder.
Ambrosia could be the key to getting answers.
For all they knew, she herself was the killer.
He repeated those facts to himself silently to keep the somber expression on his face.
Arthur and Hailey sat at the table, scooting the chairs close together to make room for Sal and Ambrosia.
Sal joined them with perhaps too big a flourish, knocking a bundle of dried herbs to the ground.
Arthur stooped to pick it up, catching another glimpse of the word scrawled on the back where the board hung over the side of the table.
Something like Walter or Walmart. Up close, he could see the wood had been distressed to make it look older than it was.
The letters were machine-printed, too. The planchette was particleboard, or Arthur was a werewolf.
Great-grandmother, huh? He knew Ouija boards had been popular long before his time, but he was beginning to doubt the coven leader’s story. After all, in Ambrosia Celestine’s own words, lies were easier to believe than the truth.
“Everyone, please place two fingers of both hands on the planchette, and call out to Lola with your energy.” Ambrosia tipped her head back, her eyelids fluttering closed.
This was all theater. Arthur was certain of it. But still, the idea that he might accidentally become a conduit to a spirit kept his hands well away from the Ouija board. “I’ll watch, if it’s all the same to you.” Arthur took a step back from the table.
The others didn’t seem to hear him, eagerly reaching for the planchette.
“Lola Lataurelle,” Ambrosia said in a register lower than her normal voice. “We seek answers. We seek justice. Come to us.”
Arthur hovered just out of reach with his back to the front of the tent.
As the others waited for something to happen, likely in vain, Arthur got the strong sense that someone—or something—was watching him.
He turned in time for a gust of wind to rustle the curtains at the entrance to the yurt. There was no one there.
Arthur shook his shoulders and returned his gaze to the board. The ghosts and spirits talk was getting to him, that was all.
“Lola!” Ambrosia shot up, rigid with wide eyes. “I’d know you on any plane. Are you here to help?”
The planchette moved to No. Well, at least she was being up-front about that.
Before Arthur could make an excuse to leave, the planchette moved again, spelling out words. Arthur, never one to let a puzzle go unsolved, grabbed his notebook and pen and transcribed it: WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?
Hailey let out a long exhale, clearly impressed, while Sal gasped. Ambrosia was the only one who didn’t seem rattled.
“Did Lola have a daughter?” Arthur asked, readying his pen for the answer.
“Not that I know of.” Ambrosia frowned as the planchette moved again.
PAISLEY SUNSET HAS A VERY NICE BUTT.
With a sigh, Arthur put away his notebook.
“I don’t understand,” Hailey said. “What’s Lola trying to tell us?”
Ambrosia wrested the planchette from Sal and Hailey’s grip and slid it to Goodbye, then sat back. “Nothing. This only works if everyone present is a believer.”
“I know for a fact we were communicating with the dead,” Sal said, a twinkle in his eye.
“That’s true enough.” Ambrosia stood, eyeing Arthur and Sal in turn. “But there’s one question I want answered. What are two vampires doing trying to join my coven?”