Voodoo Shanghai, page 41
What the hell does she want you to find? There’s something here. Something I need to know.
I looked at her—really looked with my Otherside sight. Ingrid shook her head and slapped me—or, more accurately, ghosted me.
Not the Otherside…
She touched the Otherside collar around her neck.
And I saw the glimmer of the gold Otherside threads—dozens, just like the ones that had once attached Ingrid’s ghosts to her. She touched one, and it reverberated like an elastic. All the way, straight to Liam.
Shit.
I searched, but Ingrid’s ghost was gone. I shut the fridge. In the reflective red chrome surface, I watched a sentence scrawl itself out backwards in the condensation. I’m sorry for my part, Kincaid. Truly I am.
Whoever had bound Dane had to have sociopathic tendencies, like the serial killer himself. That’s what Ingrid had said, and they’d get worse—travelling to some sort of equilibrium. Pieces fell into place in rapid succession: the opportunity to bind Dane, the desperation and switch from stealing ghosts to murder…But why?
Quickly, I pulled out my phone and texted Aaron. If the worst happened and Stephan, Nate and I didn’t get out alive—or dead…He’d never get here in time, but he’d have the proof to get Liam for Katy, even if Liam went free for everything else. As soon as my text was done, I took a step back from the fridge, towards the stove.
“What gave it away?”
I spun to find Liam standing behind me. Weak, tired, but not nearly as vulnerable as he’d appeared a moment before, or in the preceding days.
I swallowed. “Stephan—Nate,” I called, even as I sensed the chill.
Liam took his glasses from his pocket and cleaned them methodically with his untucked shirt, his piercing green eyes never leaving me.
“Get the car started. Now!” I shouted.
God, I hope Stephan has enough sense to do it.
“Honestly,” Liam said, matter-of-fact. “I’m genuinely curious, Kincaid. It wasn’t the witches, I’ve kept them busy. And Stephan’s good, but he’s not his grandmother. Please, tell me.”
I licked my lips. First rule of serial killers…“Well, Ingrid was dead when she called me—”
“Ah, yes. I suppose that would throw a wrench in things,” he said, taking another step towards me and giving a noncommittal shrug. “Must have been killed while I was unconscious. What else?”
I stood my ground. Dane loved a chase, and I was hoping that instinct had rubbed off on Liam. “The collar. The gold threads led back to you.”
Another shrug, another step. “The soothsayer has a perverse sense of humour and bound my cousin’s ghost to me while I was unconscious.”
I’d run out of room soon—unless Liam was trying to corral me towards the traps. “Then there’s Dane. We all discounted it because of the circumstances, but you were one of the only people to have direct contact with Dane’s corpse, when his zombie tried to strangle you.”
Liam clapped at that. “Contact with the corpse. Ghost Binding 101. Still not proof that would hold up in court.”
“Oh, I agree. The symbol that Ingrid showed me on that chair there,” I said, pointing at it. “You know, the one that kept Katy sitting perfectly still?”
“An old Victorian trick. What about it?”
I allowed myself a small smile and held up my phone, showing Liam the text I’d just sent to Aaron, asking him to get a practitioner and check Liam’s last studio. “Tell me, how many of those are they going to find on your guest chairs, the ones where your ghosts always sat? I always wondered how the hell you made the dead sit still while you droned on and on and on…”
Liam made a pained face. “I knew it. Ingrid got cold feet. She never should have shown you that. Even silenced, my dear cousin finds a loophole, a way. Do you hear that, Ingrid?” He raised his voice for the last bit. “I’m very angry with you.”
I racked my brain for a way out of this. I’d written Liam off because he was sick, because he was dying. We’d all written him off. His illness hadn’t made him harmless, it had made him desperate—though for the life of me, I still didn’t see why.
Liam was dying. What the hell did he need with bound ghosts and dead practitioners?
“Why, Liam? Why steal the ghosts—why do any of this? You’re—”
Liam’s face twisted in rage. “What, Strange? Dying? Joining them soon?” He sneered at me. “You look at me just like everyone else does—a dead man walking. Well, not if I can help it.”
Liam closed his eyes, and as I watched, firefly points of Otherside emerged as if from his skin, gold threads attached to them, just like the trap we’d set off.
What the hell? They were coming towards me. I threw all the Otherside I had at them, causing them to spark and fizzle out.
Liam flinched in pain, but when his eyes opened, rage was all I could see—as much as I’d ever seen in any poltergeist. “How? How can you see them?” Liam shouted at me, his fists clenched. “There’s no way you should be able to pull Otherside—not after this afternoon, not with Dane, and certainly not after the fog in the barn. I made certain of it. It’s not physically possible.”
Liam didn’t know about my Otherside sight…but he knew about Gideon—he’d said as much, hadn’t he? More strangeness from the last few days clicked in place.
“You were meant to be easy—you’ve vexed and evaded me at every step. I know the witches aren’t behind it. How?”
I opened my mouth to tell him that was my little secret, but more firefly threads were emerging from him, coming my way. I got rid of them as well and manoeuvred my back towards the exit.
It only made Liam more furious. “You have to run out of Otherside soon, Kincaid. No living person can keep this up.”
I shrugged. “In that case, I’ll be dead soon—so what’s your rush?”
“You will tell me, Kincaid. If not while you’re alive, then you can be damn sure I’ll make you once you’re dead.”
More Otherside threads headed my way. Liam was like a spider spinning silk—not unlike Astrid had been. I took those out as well. Not even breaking a cold sweat…
“Did she know you were going to kill her?” I shouted back at him, watching for more of the threads. He was banking on tiring me out, but he’d eventually realize that wouldn’t work. And for a dead man walking, Liam sure was packing an awful lot of Otherside. He was sick, he wasn’t faking that. How was he still standing?
There was a trick I was missing.
“Ingrid knew what was at stake. You were supposed to die yesterday, Strange—not her. She helped you with the traps, didn’t she?”
“Actually, I think she was trying her damnedest not to, Liam.” Until she showed me the symbol on the chair.
Liam bared his teeth at me. “Soothsayers know the best lures. Still, I can’t give her all the credit. She didn’t redesign the traps.
“I will have you eventually. There’s nowhere to run. This time I’ve made sure of it—”
A shot rang out through the barn, cutting Liam off. He ducked behind the table.
Stephan—he hadn’t left. I glanced down. While I’d been concentrating on Liam, the fog around my feet had thinned. It wasn’t gone, but I could see the ground through it. Enough to see the traps—every last one, bright silver and gold. Stephan had done it.
“You’ve got about five seconds!” Stephan’s voice echoed through the barn. “That’s it, Kincaid,” he shouted, and fired again, keeping Liam behind the table.
I didn’t waste any time.
“Stop, Strange—” Liam doubled over into a coughing fit, unable to finish.
I made it to the exit as the fog started rolling back in and found Stephan, unconscious on the ground. Shit, he must have overextended himself. “Nate?” I called out. Why the hell wasn’t the car already running? I’d told them— For a ghost who prided himself on hot-wiring cars…
I reached down and tried to help Stephan up. The smell hit me—one I was all too familiar with. Sickly-sweet chloroform. And another scent mixed in. Formaldehyde and rotting flesh.
Oh, you got to be kidding me…
I looked up to find Nate gesturing wildly down at me, shouting without making a sound. He was trapped in a golden net of Otherside.
Fuck.
“An ill man’s cough disarms them every time, Kincaid Strange,” I heard Liam shout behind me, just as the sack closed over my head, reeking of chloroform.
I felt the cord pulling tight around my neck, even as I held my breath against the chemicals.
“I always get my men—and women,” Captain Derrick rasped in my ear, to a chorus of undead laughter.
I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, and with the bag, I couldn’t see the zombie bindings to dismantle them. My last thought as the chloroform nixed my consciousness was that I hoped to hell they had something more in store for me than a quick death and whatever it was Liam had planned.
CHAPTER 22
HOOK, LINE AND SINK HER
When I came to, though my head was still covered I could tell it was dark outside and, even though there was still no snow or frost, a penetrating chill filled the air.
Well, I thought as I went through a mental checklist of body parts and living functions, making sure everything was there and doing what it should: whatever it was Liam needed me for, I’m not dead. Yet.
I didn’t find that comforting, not one damn bit…
Despite the hood, I made the effort to push myself up. Despite the chloroform and the wooziness that came with it, it all came rushing back—Ingrid’s death, Liam, the zombie ambush. I breathed in deep, testing the air. There it was: a tinge of ozone, the taste of Otherside, right alongside the last traces of chloroform. The chill, the dampness…
I couldn’t smell the zombies, though I heard rustling and low voices, hinting that they were in the brush nearby. I also couldn’t feel any Otherside bindings—just rope binding my hands behind me, my feet left free. That was a plus; it meant I could still use Otherside, and provided I could get free, I could still run. Though that was contingent on me getting free.
“Pssst—pssst, K?” Nate whispered from overhead. “Come on, time to wakey-wakey real fucking fast. We’re solidly in batshit crazy territory—”
“Quiet.” Liam’s voice, commanding, and with its own tinge of Otherside. Sure enough, Nate followed the command and stopped talking.
I reached out and felt for the Otherside I could taste and smell.
Hunger, anger, fear, desperation all rushed at me.
I knew exactly where I was.
I tested how much movement my legs had, and realized I was propped up beside someone. Stephan. He was warm, though he didn’t respond to my kick. Out or…? Relief hit me as I felt the movement of unconscious breathing. At least I knew he was alive.
“Ah, you’re awake,” I heard Liam say through the muffled darkness. The hood was removed and I blinked at a flashlight aimed directly at me, bright in the early dawn. Liam’s face hovered less than a foot away, tinged with gold Otherside. “I’m sorry it had to go this way, Kincaid, I really am,” he said, pushing up his glasses.
I kicked out with my bound legs and missed. “Someone else will figure it out, Liam,” I said, and began inching my hands back and forth. If I could loosen the ropes…“You can’t kill two practitioners and an FBI agent and think you’ll get away with it—”
Otherside wound around me, stinging my arms with a chill that sank into my bones. I froze in place.
“Don’t,” Liam said, pausing to cough, a horrible, racking sound. “It only makes it hurt more. I did the workings myself.” Rather than angry, he sounded more resigned now. “You really should have gone with your instincts. Once a soothsayer, always a soothsayer.” His eyes narrowed. “I gave Ingrid one simple task: keep you distracted until the trap caught you. Instead, she showed you my bindings.”
I cut him off. “You murdered your cousin, Liam. Don’t blame this on her.”
“Betrayal is the unforgivable sin in our family.” He was quiet for a moment. “And she was powerful.” He licked his lips, as if savouring the words. “Do you know how long I’ve been sick?”
I shrugged. “Months, I imagine.”
He sneered. “Years. I should have died a decade ago. And it’s all thanks to him.”
“Who? Who helped you, Liam?”
Liam only laughed and shook his head at me. “You have no idea what’s out there, Kincaid, do you?” He stood up and moved out of sight. “How did you find my traps, Kincaid? The metal sheet? How did you recognize them for what they were?”
I shot back with my own question. “Why Katy, Liam? I get why you targeted me, Ingrid, Stephan—we’ve got Otherside, we’re valuable as ghosts. But a seventeen-year-old kid? Why did you send Dane after her?”
His voice floated over. “Convenience—to keep Dane in line, to test a theory, as bait to lure you down here, to sow confusion, to give myself and Ingrid an excuse to volunteer our services. The swamp as well…” I heard him breathe in deeply. “There are things at work outside my control. The barn was Dane’s home base during his killing spree. He led me to it after I bound him. And then to the swamp.” He stepped back into view. “Dane had been watching her for months. It was the first bargain I struck with him.” He inclined his head. “I’m not a serial killer, Kincaid. I’m not like Dane. I’m—”
“You’re what, then? In control?” I laughed, working the rope that bound my hands.
Liam gave me a wry smile. “Weak, actually. Morally weak, just like Ingrid was. It appears to run through my family tree. And I’m dying. That helps.”
Pleasantries were over. “Tell me how, Kincaid. How you found all my traps, how you keep pulling Otherside…” Liam closed his eyes briefly, and the gold firefly points of Otherside erupted along his shoulders, arms, from his chest. And each one was attached to him with a gold thread. Jesus, there were more of them than before. So much like the ones Astrid had attached to me…
Except, unlike at the barn, these threads didn’t reach out for me. The fireflies made a beeline for the swamp, and as they touched it, Otherside flowed into them.
Sickness, anger, fear, hunger.
The lines, somehow they were feeding Liam. As I watched, Otherside flowed up the lines to Liam. He brightened, taking energy from the swamp like a vampire.
Or a hungry ghost. Liam licked his lips, and I tried to inch away.
“Oh, I can’t feed off you—not while you’re alive. Ingrid knew that. She knew she was in no danger…” He trailed off. “She wouldn’t listen.” He crouched down until our eyes were level. “I don’t know what he wants with you. He won’t tell me, but I can smell the Otherside drifting off you.”
“Who?” My mind raced.
“No ordinary man, Kincaid. One of the dead, more powerful than even you can possibly imagine.” He stood, the hungry look still there. “Ask for forgiveness, not permission.”
I closed my eyes. “Liam, what did you do with the Portland ghosts?” I asked, though I dreaded the answer.
He inclined his head. “I only needed a few at first—here and there. For my show, just to keep the worst of Ram’s Inn away. And then I needed more, and more—and then I found this place.” He lifted his hand, as if examining the gold threads. “If it weren’t for the witches stopping my feeding, I’d have it all by now.” He shrugged and turned his bright-green eyes on me.
“You ate them.” He had figured out a way to eat ghosts and Otherside to assuage his disease. And, like a hungry ghost, he was getting hungrier. I swallowed. “You don’t need my ghost because I can set bindings, do you?” It was worse, much worse than I’d realized.
He shook his head. “You—Ingrid—even Stephan, you all have more Otherside, so much more when you die. And now that I have Dane…”
If he had Dane kill us, we would become ghosts and he could feed on us. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. “Please tell me you haven’t eaten Ingrid yet.”
“Ingrid regretted them all, but she was more concerned about saving her own ghosts.” He paused. “Though they cared little for her in the end. I don’t enjoy draining them until they fade away. I really don’t. But I hunger for my life. You were right, Kincaid, to never trust a soothsayer, but not for the reasons you think—they aren’t all inherently evil. Ingrid had a kind heart. She was the kind of girl who chased after the ghosts of our dead pets so they wouldn’t leave her.” He looked me straight in the eye. “The dead corrupt people—you spend enough time with them and your moral compass falters.”
I spat in his face, hoping he’d hit me, kick me, anything that would put him in contact with me.
All he did was wipe it off, coughing again. “I suppose I deserve that.” Liam took a few steps back, well out of my range.
Damn it. I strained my wrists against the bindings. “Who, Liam—who the hell is he? The undead behind this?”
He continued to back up, and I felt the air around me chill and the unmistakable whistle.
Dane.
“Liam!” I shouted.
I didn’t hear his response, not over Dane’s laugh.
The poltergeist appeared, this time wearing a pink pastel–striped twin-set and white tennis shorts, with red shoes and baseball cap that matched his eyes. In his hand was a tennis racket—a real one. Though there was something off about it…I caught the gleam of metal. Needle-sharp spikes had been added to the netting. There were hoots from the forest—Captain Derrick and his zombies, angling for some sport.
“Why, looky here, folks! You’re back for round two, are you, Kincaid Strange? And—oh my gosh, boss—is it my birthday?” He clasped his face with both hands. “You brought me a witch for dessert? Aw, you shouldn’t have!” Dane feigned brushing tears away. “All this time, I didn’t think you cared.”
