Gypsy Magic - J.R. Rain Page 0,58

worried expression. I handed her the vial, with a quick nod.

Layla dabbed the last of the oil onto her face and wrists. She wrung her hands together nervously, glancing between the three of us.

Marty offered her a kind smile. “Today we just want to look around and see if Poppy and Bailey pick up on anything. Tomorrow night we’ll do things properly… when you, your sister and nieces are all out of the house.” Then he turned to face me. “Everyone will be away for the weekend.”

“Where are Henner and RJ?” I asked as Marty came to a halt before entering the hallway.

“Work,” he answered. “Mrs. Gendry’s pipes burst and flooded her basement. RJ and a few of his work associates are repairing things there. Henner’s pretty much the IT guy for the entire city, and he got called into the school this morning to fix a couple of their computers.”

“Will they be here tomorrow night?” I asked.

He nodded. “That’s the plan!”

And I hoped the plan didn’t change because we needed RJ and Henner. Even the most ill-mannered ghost was a regular June Cleaver compared to a poltergeist. When a spirit crossed the boundary from ghost to poltergeist, it surrendered its sanity. Many times poltergeists were murder victims who became obsessed with vengeance, unable to be appeased until their unfinished business was settled, their murderer in jail or six feet underground. And other times, they were the spirits of the murderers, themselves.

I clutched the messenger bag’s strap a little tighter to my chest and forced myself to breathe in slowly. I had everything I needed to keep a poltergeist at bay, but it didn’t change the fact that I was nervous.

Layla granted us entrance into the dark house and we came to a stop in her entryway. It was connected to a spacious living room, equipped with a matched set of deep green sofa, love seat, and double arm chairs, all facing the seventy-two inch plasma screen TV mounted on the opposite wall. The stippled ceiling boasted a ceiling medallion and a simple drop light that bathed the space with a cozy glow. It was the only light in the living room, owing to the fact that all the green, gingham curtains had been pulled tightly closed.

I stopped moving as my heart started pounding in my chest and I stared at the curtains with a mounting sense of dread.

I’ve seen this room before.

I recognized the green, gingham pattern of the curtains and the living room furniture. If the moon had been full and shining through a gap in the fabric, it would have been a perfect replica of my nightmare.

And that meant…

This was the house in my nightmare visions!

If this is the same house, Poppy, that would mean the man in the vision, the one who was killed by the shadow creature, was Danny, Layla’s husband…

Right.

Suddenly, I had a sneaking suspicion I knew why there was a poltergeist hanging around. Because Layla had killed her husband. As I remembered the necklace the shadow creature had been wearing in my vision, I turned to face Layla with a feeling of impending dread.

She wasn’t wearing the necklace, but that didn’t matter. Danny had said the necklace belonged to his wife... and owing to the fact that the creature was wearing it and the creature killed him, I had to believe the creature and Layla were one and the same.

But Layla doesn’t look like a monster, I argued with myself.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just how Danny viewed her—that she was monstrous enough to kill him. The shape of the monster wasn’t anything more than a façade—an allegory.

I had to do something to warn Bailey and Marty.

As I watched, Bailey moved around me to quietly argue with Marty, and I only caught the tail end of the sentence.

“You can’t mention that I work for the Spook Society, Marty,” she started. “How many times do I have to tell you? If Mr. Howard learns I’m doing cases with you, he’s going to be pissed. I might even lose my job.”

“Sorry,” Marty muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It just slipped out, but I swear I’ll be more careful next time.”

Layla was still within hearing range, so I couldn’t say anything about my belief that she was responsible for her husband’s death.

An aura of menace clung like musk to the house, grating against my magic like sandpaper taken to a lacquered piece of wood. My teeth ached like I’d developed cavities in every tooth