Chapter 11 #2
“Not a bag of herbs,” she confirms. “Her Italian mother-in-law gave it to her. It’s supposed to be a horn or something, but the first time I saw her wearing it around her neck, I thought it was a dick.”
I stop dead. “Seriously?”
“Yup. It doesn’t actually look much like a dick,” she adds. “I just didn’t get a good view.”
“I’m so disappointed by that.” I would have liked wearing a dick on a chain around my neck. There’s gotta be someone making cock-shaped jewelry, right? I’ll get on Etsy later and see what I can find.
We part ways with Arissa in the hallway outside the staff room, and Kieran leads the way to the basement door, where we stand and stare.
“So you can feel that there’s something bad down there?” Skye asks dubiously, hand up, palm toward the door, as though he’s trying to feel something.
I shiver. “Yes. It’s not that strong up here—a sense of wrongness. Like a danger sign? It makes me want to avoid this area.”
“Danger signs don’t have that effect on me,” Daniel says absently, studying the door, and Skye elbows him in the ribs. “Oof. Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Skye says sweetly. “Come on, are we going down?”
“Yes.” Kieran grabs the flashlight and unlocks the door. “Ewan, can you put a deadbolt on this door?”
“No problem,” Ewan assures him.
“Do we really need to?” I ask. “I mean, you and I are the only ones with keys to get in. And if that thing gets out, I don’t think an extra lock will stop it.”
“What a comforting thought,” Kieran murmurs, peering into the basement. “We really need to, if only so I can assure myself I took all possible steps to prevent a demon from eating souls.”
Also a comforting thought. I try not to dwell on the fact that as someone who lives in the house, my soul would probably be one of the first the dark spirit would go after.
I’m not sure what everyone expected to see, but as I show them the section of rocky wall the dark spirit is trapped in, they all seem disappointed.
“That’s it?” Daniel asks.
“That’s it,” I confirm. “You can’t feel the darkness?”
He hesitates. “I was going to say no,” he says slowly, “but I guess I feel like I don’t like it? It doesn’t give me the creeps or anything, but I just don’t… like it.”
“Same,” Ewan says from directly beside me, and I jump. When did he come to stand there?
“I’m creeped out when I look directly at it,” Skye says, taking half a step closer, then shivering and stepping back. “And when I get too close. But just standing here and looking somewhere else?” He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
We all look at Kieran, who’s shining the flashlight along the edges of the small tomb. “I’m with Skye,” he says. “Looking at it gives me the heebie-jeebies. What can we do to make this more secure? Aside from buying a shit-ton of quartz and filling the room with it?”
“No idea. Joe?” I ask.
He harrumphs. “If we knew, we’d have done it already.”
“Salt, maybe?” Ewan suggests. “Isn’t that supposed to be a deterrent?”
“That’s for ghosts,” Daniel reminds him, and Joe glares.
“Are you implying that we are in any way kin to the dark spirit?”
Ewan holds up his hands. “No way. But all those movies that have demon summonings use a salt circle, right?”
“You have shit taste in movies,” Kieran tells him. “But that’s right.” He looks at me. “Would salt help?”
I rub my jaw. “I really don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t think it would hurt, but it would prevent the ghosts from getting in here.”
“Do they need to get in here?” he counters. “If this thing gets out, what would they do that we can’t?”
We all turn to Joe, who appears to consider it.
“If anything, you’re better equipped to deal with it,” he concedes.
“We have to be manifested, which takes a lot of energy. It would have to kill you before it could take your souls, and from what we saw when it first arrived, it can’t directly do that.
It has to push you down stairs or throw something at your head and hope that works. ”
There’s an awkward little silence while we all mull over how much we don’t want to be shoved down a flight of stairs by a dark spirit that’s hoping we’ll die so it can eat our souls.
“Okay,” Kieran says at last. “We put a salt line down here and hope that helps. And we stock up on quartz. Everyone carries a piece with them at all times, so you’ll be ready if we need to herd this thing somewhere.” He turns back to me. “Is there a ritual or something needed with the salt?”
I shrug. “I’ve never used one for ghosts. It’s the actual salt itself that does the work.”
“Let’s do that now, then.”
“I’ll grab the salt. There’s some in the storeroom,” Daniel volunteers, heading back to the stairs. Skye starts asking Kieran about bedding for the new honeymoon suite, and Ewan edges closer to me.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs in a low voice, and for the first time this morning, I look at him properly. His gaze is warm and concerned, and that hidden, deep-down part of me that’s so tired of always having to get by really wants to snuggle up against his big body and let him take care of me.
Which is stupid. For one thing, he’s never given any indication he wants to take care of me. Our connection was about a good fuck and nothing more. And even if he did want to, I don’t need to be taken care of. I’ve spent my life looking after myself, and I don’t need to change that now.
“Sure.”
He puts one of his big, warm hands on my forearm, and I curl my toes in an attempt to keep from shivering. “You’re allowed to not be okay, you know. This is a huge mess to get dumped on you, and you haven’t slept enough since you found out.”
I swallow and try to laugh. It comes out broken. “Are you saying I look shit?”
His smile is slow and seems to convey a special message. “I don’t think you could ever look shit.” He grabs one of my hands and inspects my fingernails. Even in the crappy light down here, the yellow is bright. “I really like this color,” he says.
What do I say? “Thanks,” I croak, then am thankfully rescued by the sound of Daniel thumping down the stairs, a ten-pound bag of salt slung over his shoulder. We all turn toward him as he reaches us.
“What do we do?” he asks me.
“Open the bag and pour out a line of salt.” It’s not really that hard.
Although the looks he and Ewan both give me suggest I’ve oversimplified things.
“How thick should the line be?” Daniel asks.
“And how high? Do we need to pile it up?” Ewan adds.
Oh my god, way to overthink this. “It doesn’t matter, and no. All you need is an unbroken line. If you had the patience to line up individual grains of salt, that would probably do the trick.”
Ewan’s eyes widen, and they exchange a glance that I think means they want to try that. “But we’re in a hurry today,” I add hastily, “so just a regular poured line will do.”
Daniel pouts but obediently rips open the bag and starts pouring, with Ewan hovering by his elbow. Skye’s sniggering, and when I look over, Kieran meets my gaze and rolls his eyes. He’s smiling, though, which makes me feel better.
In fact… everything about this morning has made me feel better.
It’s weird, because the situation hasn’t changed since yesterday, but telling people and knowing they’ve got my back is such a relief.
Last night I lay awake for hours, fretting about whether I’d be able to handle any of this, but now, with Kieran’s to-do list and Skye’s upbeat confidence and Ewan’s and Daniel’s steady capability—not to mention Arissa’s go-get-’em attitude—I’m not as worried.
Even if it’s not easy, we’ll find a way to get this done.
I’m not alone anymore. And fucked if that’s not weird.
By the time we leave the basement and lock the door securely behind us, the Himmels have checked out of the Garden Suite. Arissa must have shoved them out the door, because she’s waiting for us in the storage room.
“Vortex room. Let’s go,” she announces. “I need to get back to the kitchen soon.”
“Bring the salt,” I tell Daniel. “It might not make a difference, but it can’t hurt to use it.”
So we troop along the hallway and upstairs, trying to seem casual in case the last lingering guests are around. Hattie meets up with us on the second-floor landing.
“Is the meeting done? What’s been decided?” she asks anxiously.
“We’re going to look at the vortex,” I tell her.
Kieran shoots me an odd look. “We know, you don’t… Oh. Ghost?” He glances around. I guess that means Hattie’s not manifested.
“Hattie,” I tell him as Joe pulls her aside and begins muttering. I’m not sure if he’s telling her about the meeting or just complaining that nobody used the “right” terminology.
We stop in front of the door to the Garden Suite, and Kieran uses his fob to open it.
Inside, the bed is unmade, and a glance into the en suite bath shows towels on the floor, but the room is otherwise tidy.
I’ve heard the housekeepers complaining about guests who leave trash—or worse—strewn around, and I’m glad we don’t have to deal with that right now.
“Well, where is it?” Ewan asks, glancing around as we all crowd in. The room is a decent size, but not really meant to hold so many people.