Ghoul Interrupted Page 4

  The tow truck driver didn’t seem to notice that I was inside Arianna’s car, so I watched him surreptitiously. He got out and went into the station too, but when he got to the door, he did pause and look over his shoulder. What was strange was that he didn’t look at me—he seemed to look at the vehicle he was towing, and I swore he gave an involuntary shudder before he turned again and headed inside.

  I swiveled my head to peer again at the minivan hitched to the back of his truck. It was an older model that had definitely seen better days. The front of it was completely crumpled in—it was obvious it’d hit something big—probably a tree.

  Immediately I knew that this must’ve been the vehicle Heath’s aunt was driving when she went off the road. I had this compelling urge to get out of the car and take a look at the driver’s side, but Heath had given me those explicit instructions about staying put, and I’d promised, so I didn’t give in to the impulse.

  But then I had an idea and glanced at the keys dangling from the ignition. Without dwelling on it, I wriggled my way into the driver’s seat and put the car in reverse. Turning the wheel, I cruised over toward the parking slot next to the tow truck and crept along the side of the minivan, looking out the window at it to see what I could see.

  My breath caught in my throat when I got to the driver’s-side door. The front of the car was definitely a wreck, but what struck me most about the sight was the three long claw marks distinctly gouged into the metal from the edge of the driver’s-side door all the way along to the middle of the minivan.

  Now, I know you’re thinking that those could have been scratches from a tree branch, but I knew different. I’d seen those exact same markings before on another ghostbust I’d done in San Francisco, and I knew they were the distinctive sign of a demon at work. By the thickness of each mark and the depth of its indentation, I was wagering this thing was a big demon. BIG.

  And then I got that feeling again . . . that creepy, something’s-watching-you feeling, and the hair on the back of my neck rose and goose pimples formed along my arms and I started to shiver a little.

  I swallowed hard and eyed the area. I couldn’t tell from which direction the feeling was coming; it seemed to be everywhere. “Something wicked this way comes,” I whispered to myself.

  Then I backed out of the slot again and moved Ari’s car back to its original space. After placing it in park, I shimmied my way over into the backseat again and waited nervously for Heath and his cousin. I also tried to cool my temper because my irritation over being made to wait in the car was really starting to cloud my judgment. I had to remember that Heath had just learned he now had two deaths in his family, so I couldn’t allow myself to get all pissy about being made to wait in the car.

  Still, it took another ten minutes for Heath and Ari to emerge. I was so relieved to see them, because that sinister feeling hadn’t left and I knew I was still being watched. What surprised me was when I was watching Heath walk toward the car, holding his weeping cousin close around her shoulders, I saw his head snap up. I knew he’d just caught a whiff of the same foul energy swirling around the area.

  His gaze went immediately to me, the concern evident in his eyes, and I forgave him immediately. I knew he must have had his reasons for keeping me behind and I was just glad he was back.

  Heath quickened his step and moved his cousin to the passenger door, gently but firmly putting her inside before he closed the door and swept his eyes all around the group of nearby homes.

  He then moved to the driver’s-side door and before getting in, he looked at me again through the glass. I made a motion with two of my fingers, pointing them to my eyes and then pointing them out in a sweeping motion to let him know I felt it too.

  Heath’s lips pressed together and he got in the car without a word and backed out of the slot. “You okay?” he asked me when he’d turned the car around.

  “I am now,” I told him, deciding to wait until we were alone together to tell him about the demon marks on Beverly’s minivan. That was something I definitely didn’t want Ari to overhear—especially in her emotional state.

  Heath’s cousin sat huddled in her seat, her periodic sniffling letting me know that she was still crying. Heath drove along the sparsely populated road to the end, where a group of five houses were arranged in a sort of U. “Where’s Brody?” Heath asked Ari, pulling into the drive of one of the houses at the top of the U.

  “He’s trying to get someone to cover his shift at the hospital,” she told him. “He promised he’d be home soon.”

  Heath swiveled in the seat and seemed to consider me. “Em,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “I’m sorry for leaving you in the car back there, but outsiders aren’t welcome on the Pueblo without invitation, and they’re not allowed inside one of our public buildings unless that invitation is by an elder. I wasn’t thinking when I let you come along, and I couldn’t let you come out of the car without causing you and me a lot of grief.”

  “Oh,” I said, quite surprised. I’d never even thought his reasons were related to my possible trespass. “I’m sorry, Heath. If I’d have known, I would have stayed back at the hotel and waited for you.”

  Heath shook his head and I could see he was beating himself up a little. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s mine. Anyway, you’re here now, and it’ll take too long to drive you back. I’ve got a lot of family stuff to deal with, and I don’t think my aunts and uncles are going to be too happy that I’ve brought a stranger into the mix on a day like today. I’m going to bring you in there and tell them you’re here with me, and they’ll probably let you stay. . . .”

  Probably?

  “But when you come in, don’t be surprised if they’re not exactly welcoming. Please don’t react. Just stay as quiet as you can and don’t say anything or call attention to yourself.”

  Arianna turned to me. “I’ll stay right next to you,” she assured me, and I was flooded with gratitude.

  “Thank you, Ari,” I said.

  We got out of the car and Heath took my hand on one side and Ari came around to my other and looped her arm through mine. I felt a mixture of emotions—nerves, anxious hesitation, and warmth for both Heath and Ari, but especially for her because I knew how bad she was hurting and yet she still found a way to take care of me—a relative stranger.

  We approached the house and the door opened even before we got to it. In the doorway was a large man, tall and barrel-chested with long gray hair and a wide flat nose. His gaze was sharp as an eagle’s and as he leveled it at me, I would have withered under it had I not been propped up between Heath and Ari.

  “Nephew,” the older man said. His voice was deep and commanding and there was neither warmth nor coldness in the way he said the word.

  “Uncle Vernon,” Heath replied, oddly reflecting back the same tone. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed that Heath’s feelings for this uncle were somewhat ambivalent.

  “Who’s this?” Vernon asked.

  “M. J. Holliday,” Heath told him. “She’s with me.”

  Vernon stood blocking the doorway for a beat, and Heath didn’t waver in his march toward the door. I seriously thought we were going to plow right into the old man, but at the last second Vernon backed his way inside and allowed us to pass.

  As we walked by, I noticed two things: one, that Vernon seemed to snicker at us when we went past, and two, that Ari pointedly avoided looking at him altogether. I knew she was Heath’s cousin, but at that moment I was so nervous I couldn’t remember which of Heath’s aunts or uncles she was directly related to.

  The house smelled fragrant and earthy. Sage burned somewhere mixed with incense. I could hear the crackling of a fire too, and the gentle weeping of women and comforting words in a tongue I didn’t recognize.

  Ari let go of my arm so that we could all fit into the narrow hallway, but Heath continued to grip my hand firmly.

  He led me straight through to the living room, where about two dozen people
were all crammed into the space, including one terribly distraught young woman I’d put no older than nineteen. She wailed one word over and over, and there was a question mark at the end of the word. I didn’t speak Pueblo, but I knew what she was saying nonetheless. “Why? Why?”

  Two women tended to her. One held her and patted her back; another gently wiped away her tears. I had to blink a lot to hold back my own emotion.

  “Heath!” I heard from across the room. A young man probably fourteen or fifteen jumped up from his seat at the hearth and dashed forward to hug my sweetheart.

  Heath let go of my hand to catch and hug the young man back, and as all the eyes in the room turned first to Heath and then slowly over to me, I felt like I’d been cut adrift from my life raft.

  “Hey, Eli,” Heath said warmly. “How’s it hanging?”

  “I saw your show!” Eli said, stepping back to look up at him with pride. “It was awesome!”

  I blinked. I wasn’t aware that our show had aired yet, but then I remembered that Haunted Possessions, the first show Heath and I had done together, had been released the month before. That must have been what Eli was referring to.

  “Did you?” Heath asked, and even though I could tell he tried to smile at the younger man, there was a stiff set to his shoulders, which let me know he was very distracted by all the tragedy his family had recently suffered.

  Eli apparently wasn’t as affected as the adults gathered around. “Maybe you could take me with you when you go on your next ghost hunt?”

  “Eli!” Vernon barked, and the boy jumped. When he had his attention, Vernon growled, “This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “Sorry, Uncle Vern,” Eli said, and moved quickly back to the hearth.

  I felt a slight pulling sensation on my energy and the image of Sam Whitefeather filled my mind. And then, something a bit extraordinary happened; I could literally see him across the room with his arms folded across his chest and a disapproving look on his face. He hadn’t liked how Vernon had snapped at his grandson.

  “Who’s this?” a woman near Eli asked, and although her tone wasn’t overtly rude, I could tell she didn’t approve of my presence.

  “This is M. J. Holliday, Grace,” Heath said simply. “She’s my girlfriend.”

  Every eye in the room turned to Heath and me. Most of them didn’t look at all pleased to see a stranger at the gathering. Arianna took my arm again in a silent show of support. “We just came from the sheriff’s station,” she said. “Pena and Cruz had Bev’s minivan towed and they’re investigating the crash.”

  The eyes in the room shifted uneasily from me to Ari. “What did they tell you?” a man who looked very much like Sam asked. As if on cue I saw Sam’s spirit glide over to stand next to the man.

  Heath and Ari hesitated before answering him; instead they looked pointedly at the distraught woman sandwiched between two others. That had to be Molly, Beverly’s daughter, I thought.

  The two women tending Molly read between the lines and gently eased the poor girl to her feet and coaxed her down a hallway, probably toward one of the bedrooms. When she was well out of earshot, Heath said, “The skid marks show that Bev might have tried to avoid something in the road—probably a coyote—and she lost control of the truck before skidding into a tree.”

  “Where’d they find her?” Vernon asked.

  “On the back road leading to the burial grounds,” Heath said. “Ari thinks she was going to check out the spot Uncle Rex picked out for Milton.”

  The man next to the spirit of Sam Whitefeather nodded. “I told her where I planned to put his ashes yesterday morning,” he said.

  Ari leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Uncle Rex is responsible for burial placements.”

  “Where’d they take Beverly’s body?” Rex asked next.

  “They’ve sent her to the Jimez Pueblo,” Ari said. “The same place they sent Milton for the autopsy.”

  There was a rustling in the room that I didn’t quite understand. It appeared the Whitefeathers didn’t quite approve of their dead being sent to another Pueblo for autopsy.

  “That coroner’s too damn slow,” Heath’s uncle Vernon barked. “He held on to Milton too long before he sent him back to us!”

  Ari must have taken Vernon’s displeasure personally, because she snapped back, “Take it up with Pena and Cruz, then, Dad!”

  He scowled at her and Ari seemed to lose her nerve, because she shifted slightly back a step, using me to block Vernon’s reproachful glare.

  I wanted to say something, but remembered that I was an outsider here, and Heath had warned me not to.

  Rex spoke next. “We’ll have to postpone the ceremony for Milton,” he said. “We’ll wait for them to release Bev and perform both ceremonies together.”

  “You want to wait another four or five days to bury our brother?” Vernon practically growled.

  Next to Rex I saw Sam’s spirit move even closer to him, and he placed his hands on his son, as if he was giving him the strength to stand up to his brother. In my mind I heard Sam say, It’s what Milton would want. A second later I heard nearly those same words come out of Rex’s mouth. “It’s what Milton would have wanted, Vern. He would’ve wanted to be buried with Beverly.”

  But Vernon was unmoved. “They weren’t even still married!” he snapped. Every time he spoke, I noticed, the whole room tensed. Apparently, Vernon wasn’t so much loved and respected as feared.

  Still, Rex stood his ground, likely because his father’s spirit was giving him strength. “You know they planned to marry again in the springtime, brother,” he said calmly. “No. It’s my job to say when and where, and I say we wait for Bev and lay them to rest together.”

  Vernon swore under his breath and stalked out of the room. He didn’t seem to like it when he didn’t get his way.

  At that moment Sam stepped away from Rex, shaking his head at the sight of his retreating son before looking pointedly at me. He then moved his arms in an odd way, as if he were shaping an hourglass, and in front of my eyes a large clay pot appeared. Beautifully crafted, it was painted black except for a large white feather on the side.

  I didn’t know what the pot was supposed to symbolize, but when I looked at Sam’s face, it appeared very sad indeed. I had this feeling like I needed to ask Heath about it, but not here and not now.

  Heath took me around to his relatives and introduced me. Most of them forced a smile and welcomed me, and I expressed my condolences for their loss, but I could feel the tension in the room with me there, and really I just wanted to go.

  When we got to Rex, the older man nodded at me, but didn’t take my extended hand. I tried not to take offense, but it was hard. “Your mom coming?” Rex asked Heath.

  “Yes,” Heath said tightly, clearly irritated that his uncle had just snubbed me.

  Rex sighed. “Vernon’s going to give her some flak.”

  “She’s expecting it.”

  “I’ll do my best to stand up for her,” Rex added.

  Heath met his uncle’s steely eyes and his expression softened. “Thank you, Uncle. She could really use it.”

  Rex nodded, then turned away. I bit my tongue and followed Heath back to the other side of the room, where he waved to all his relatives and hugged Ari again. Holding up her keys, he asked, “Can you take me to get my car?”

  “Take mine for today,” she said wearily. “You two can bring it back when you get yours out of the garage.”

  Heath kissed her on the cheek, then took me by the hand and we left.

  When we got outside, Heath walked me right to the passenger door and opened it for me. I got inside, and he leaned in a little. “I’m really sorry my family was so rude,” he said, moving his finger along my brow to sweep a lock of hair out of my eyes. “They’re set in their ways and they don’t like outsiders.”

  “I understand,” I told him, hoping he believed me. The truth was that the encounter had thrown me a little. It’d been uncomfortable and stress
ful, and I just wanted to get out of there.

  Heath sighed and kissed me before stepping back to close my door and get in on the driver’s side. We pulled out of the Pueblo and headed off.

  As we drove, I waited for Heath to say something, but he didn’t. He just drove silently, and I could feel the waves of grief and anger rolling off him. I knew he had to be at the end of his rope, what with the death of his favorite uncle and an aunt he clearly loved, not to mention the less-than-welcoming feeling his family had given me, and to top it all off, his mother was coming back into town and apparently wasn’t welcome at her own brother’s funeral.

  I knew all this, and common sense suggested that I should have left Heath alone. He’d talk to me when he was ready, but maybe I was a little short on my supply of common sense that day. “Wanna talk about it?” I asked, just as Heath pulled over onto the shoulder of the road.

  Heath sighed, and then the stiff posture he’d been holding while he drove sort of crumpled, and he rested his forehead on the steering wheel and pounded the top of the dash with his fist.

  I waited a beat before reciting one of my favorite quotes. “Family,” I said. “It’s why God gave us friends.”

  It took a minute but Heath started to chuckle. He then lifted his head and regarded me. “I’m really, really sorry,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you into the middle of this nightmare. I should’ve told you to go hang out in L.A. or Boston. Not pulled you into all this crap.”

  My brow lifted. “What?” I said with a half smile. “This? This is all you Whitefeathers got? Please, sugar. My family makes your family look like the Waltons.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” he said, leaning over to rest his head on my shoulder.

  I patted his hair. “Don’t sweat it, honey. I can take it.”

  He chuckled again. “Oh, I know you can take it. I’m just not sure I can.”