Spirits, Stilettos, and a Silver Bustier Page 5

  “The police?”

  “Yeah.”

  I sat back into the cushions. “You didn’t hear?”

  He shook his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over one eye. “No. I wasn’t here, was I?”

  I narrowed my eyes and studied him. “Are you saying that when you disappear, you’re really gone? Like, you’re not spying on me or eavesdropping or anything?”

  A gleam lit his dark eyes. “That would be scandalous. And it’s very tempting, but no. Even if I could, I wouldn’t invade your privacy.”

  “But you showed up right as they left. How did you know?”

  “I was in the hall. I saw them leave.”

  “And they didn’t see you?”

  “Nope.” He chuckled. “Let me explain. I can stay concealed from mundanes, but not those with paranormal abilities. See, I couldn’t hide myself from you even if I wanted to. Not as long as you are blessed with your medium ability. You’ll always be able to see me.”

  Thank God. The thought of him watching me while I was showering or dressing or, damn, even just lounging in my holey sweatpants was unnerving. “That’s good to know.”

  “So,” he said, “are you going to tell me why they were bothering you?”

  “Oh. That.” I relayed the information about Ruby and the young woman who’d owned my dress.

  “They were both strangled?” A troubled expression claimed his features.

  “That’s what they said.”

  He studied me. “And you have a dress Shelby owned?”

  “Yeah.” The more I thought about that, the more uncomfortable it made me. I wasn’t sure why since I’d bought it secondhand, but knowing the owner had died hours before I’d purchased it was more than a little bit creepy. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to wear it.

  “If you do a reading, you might be able to solve the mystery yourself.”

  “You’re asking me to use the dress to talk to Shelby?”

  He nodded. “Or even Ruby. Technically they both owned it. The dead have a lot of answers if you ask the right questions.”

  The dead. That was my life now. Always conversing with those who had passed. It was depressing if I stopped to think about it. Even more depressing when I reminded myself this man in front of me was one of them. “All right.”

  I reached for the dress, suddenly nervous. I wasn’t sure why. Ghosts didn’t scare me. Not anymore anyway. Mostly. About a year ago, I’d been terrorized by an evil spirit that had left me traumatized. My way of dealing with it was to face ghosts head-on. It had worked. And these days, since I’d developed my medium abilities, I had my guides to warn me of any dubious activity.

  “Pyper?” Julius asked, studying me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” I lied. I was barely willing to admit to myself I was getting nervous, much less tell Julius that. “Why?”

  “Something changed. You’re hesitant, a little nervous.” He stepped forward and covered my hand with his. “As long as I’m here, nothing can happen to you. I won’t let it. You’re too bright a light.”

  There was a protective vibe coming from him I had never experienced from anyone except Kane. Only this was more intense, more connected. I felt exposed, stripped of all my barriers, as if he was seeing the real me. Not the ex-stripper, sexy café owner, or eccentric body painter. Just me. Pyper. The girl who could talk to ghosts. The one who felt completely at ease with the man in front of me. For once, I felt unconditionally accepted by someone other than Kane. It nearly brought tears to my eyes. I swallowed. “That’s an awfully nice thing to say.”

  “It’s the truth. I’ve never seen a more vibrant soul.”

  “Thanks.” I averted my eyes, unable to look at him any longer, suddenly shy and awkward, a state I’d never been afflicted with before. I had to do something, anything, to get out of this conversation. Clearing my throat, I clutched the dress. “I’m going to call my guides now.”

  “Sure.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If you need me to leave or anything, just say the word.”

  “Leave?” I asked, startled. That was the last thing I wanted him to do. “No. You’re fine. I just need a sec.”

  He nodded and shifted, giving me a little more space.

  I focused on the unlit candle on my coffee table just to have something to occupy my mind. Everything went quiet, and there she was.

  Hi, Pyper, Tru said, her tone cheerful.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “I’m trying to reach the original owner of this dress. Is that something you can help me with?”

  Absolutely. She’s already here. The image of a young woman with long light blond hair and a waifish frame flashed in my mind.

  I frowned. She was smaller, more delicate, than the woman in the picture Brant had shown me. “Are you sure that’s her?”

  Yes. She says the dress was handmade for her.

  I ran my hand lightly over the beads and the lightbulb went off. I’d asked for the original owner of the dress. This was a vintage garment. “I see. What year was that?”

  Nineteen twenty-four.

  Wow. I stared down at the dress. It had been incredibly well cared for. It couldn’t have been worn more than a couple of times. Not unless it had been reworked over the years, but I didn’t think so. “Tell her it’s gorgeous, and I’m proud to own it now.”

  Grace says she’s pleased it’s in the hands of someone who appreciates it. It was her favorite dress.

  I smiled at that. The name Grace was a little bit too wholesome for a girl who loved such a sexy little dress. “Tell her I love it. And then can you ask her if she knows anything about the woman who sold it to Ruby?”

  She says the woman’s name is Shelby. But…

  That was what Officer Brant had said as well. “But what?”

  She’s agitated. Hold on. She says you’re in danger. He’s coming for you next.

  “What?” I said again, alarm setting my pulse to rapid-fire. “Who’s coming?”

  The murderer. Be diligent. Don’t let him finish the ritual.

  “Who is he?”

  She’s gone. Tru’s tone was hushed. Her energy was waning. I doubt she’ll be back anytime soon.

  “Okay. Thank you, Tru.”

  My guide whispered good night, and as she faded away, my surroundings came into focus. I immediately jumped up and ran across the room to my desk.

  “Pyper?” Julius called.

  I held my hand up as I searched for my sketchpad and a piece of charcoal. Perched on the edge of my desk, I quickly sketched Grace’s image. My strokes were rapid and hurried, but when I finished, the result was an almost identical likeness of the image Tru had shown me.

  I stared at it, feeling an odd connection to the ghost. It was something about her eyes. They were the same shape, the same innocent expression, my mother had.

  There was a slight movement to my right, and I jumped. “Jesus, Julius. You startled me.”

  He was focused on the drawing, his eyes wide with shock. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m an artist. I paint.”

  “No.” He glanced up at me, his expression troubled. “How did you know about her?”

  I stood still, holding the sketchpad. “I just contacted her. She spoke to me.”

  He closed his eyes and let out an audible sigh that sounded a lot like regret. “I was going to tell you. When the time was right.”

  That panic was back again. Whatever he had to say, I was certain it didn’t have anything to do with the dress. “Tell me what?” I forced out.

  His eyes flew open. “You mean you don’t know?”

  I frowned and shook my head, searching those onyx eyes of his.

  “But you said you talked to her.”

  “I did. She was the original owne
r of the dress.” I didn’t go into the details of what she’d said. I had to hear what he had to say first. We stared at each other for a moment. “What is it I don’t know, Julius?”

  His pained expression intensified. “I’m responsible for Grace’s death.”

  Chapter 6

  “You killed Grace?” My voice was a high-pitched squeak as I backed up, my instincts completely jumbled. How could I still feel comfortable around him after that revelation?

  “For God’s sake, Pyper.” Julius raised both hands and shook his head. “Is that really what you think of me?”

  “Is that a no then?” The outrage on his face implied he was more than a little offended I’d believe such a thing about him, but he hadn’t exactly answered my question, had he?

  “No. I never said I killed her, though I might as well have, considering it was my fault.” His anger fled and all that was left in his sad gaze was regret.

  My heart started to ache for him and his obvious pain. I moved forward and touched his hand as I sat back down on the couch. “What happened?”

  He stared at our connection and then reluctantly pulled his hand away. And instead of sitting next to me, he chose the chair, putting distance between us. “When I was alive, I was an agent of the Witches’ Council.”

  “Okay. Was Grace a witch too?” Jade’s stepfather worked for the council, but I didn’t know anything about what they did other than hunt down black-magic users and regulate the use of dark spells.

  He shook his head. “No, but another witch, a bastard of epic proportions, had formed an obsession with her. His idea of a good time was to brew black-magic potions that forced women to do whatever he wanted. And Grace was his target.”

  I shuddered and wrapped my arms around myself. “A rapist.”

  He nodded gravely. “And torturer. With powerful magic.”

  “The worst kind of nightmare,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he even heard me.

  Julius leaned forward, staring me in the eye, a fresh wave of guilt filtering over his chiseled features. “I would’ve died for her. Did in the end, and my sacrifice still didn’t save her.”

  I wanted to reach out and hold him. To soothe him, take away the awful regret still haunting him ninety years or so later. “It sounds like you did everything you could.”

  A storm rolled through his eyes at my words, and he stood up abruptly. “No. I didn’t.” His footsteps echoed off my hardwood floors as he paced around my living room.

  When he didn’t expound further, I sat up straight and said, “Julius?”

  He cast me a quick glance and paused, still saying nothing.

  “Grace had a message.”

  His shoulders hunched. “For me?”

  “No. She said he was coming for me next.”

  He crossed the room in two large strides. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he grabbed both my hands. “Who is?”

  “The murderer, I suppose. The one who killed Ruby and Shelby, the last owners of my dress. She said not to let him finish the ritual.”

  He went perfectly still as he took in what I’d said. “Ritual?”

  I nodded. “She’s talking about whoever killed her, isn’t she?”

  “Dammit.” Julius stood and glanced around. “This can’t be happening. Not again.”

  “Again?” A cold reality washed over me. “You think the murders are a copycat crime?”

  “Yes.” He glanced away, balling his hands into fists. And when he met my gaze again, there was determination and shame in his eyes. “Part of the pattern is the same. Two women murdered first, with the third one completing a ritual. The only thing different is the lack of sexual abuse this time around. I know because it was my job to stop the ritual from happening. I failed. Grace and I were both destroyed.”

  “You need to tell me everything. Start from the beginning.” My tone was measured. There was no room for the fear that was inching its way into my mind, doing its best to take over any rational thought. “Julius. Now.”

  He started pacing again, and I was about to lose my cool when he stopped and gave me his full attention. “It was February of nineteen twenty-four, and in the first week two women died. Each of them strangled. The New Orleans Police Department was busy sweeping the tragedies under the rug because one of the murders happened at a well-known house of ill repute right here on Bourbon Street.”

  “They were both prostitutes?”

  He shook his head. “Only the first one. She worked at a high-class place that was frequented by the most respected businessmen of the city. The ladies and their patrons were very discreet. Officials were bought off. They operated regardless of laws. And the night the first victim died, it’s rumored the police chief himself was frequenting the establishment. No one wanted that to get out, so the murder was swept under the rug. And because she was a prostitute, there was no one to miss her except her employer. The mistress was mad as hell and contacted a client she knew to be a detective for help. Only he wasn’t. He was from the Witches’ Council, so when he went to investigate, he felt a strong magical signature and got the council involved.”

  Julius fell silent as he bent in thought. My insides felt hollow. Had today’s murders been magical? I should call Jade. She would want to know.

  I reached for my phone, intending to text her, but Julius started talking again. “Two days later, the second young woman was found.”

  “Was she connected to the first one in some way?” There had to be some sort of pattern. Multiple murder victims were rarely random.

  “No.” Julius frowned. “She was a young woman from uptown who was engaged to be married. There was nothing to connect her to the prostitute other than the fact they were both strangled and the magical signature left behind.”

  “Nothing?” I asked incredulously and perched on the edge of the couch, staring at him intently. “Then how did you end up Grace’s watcher? How did you know she was in danger?”

  He unconsciously undid the top button of his white linen shirt. “Grace was a seer. She saw her own murder, and since she had ties to the witch community, the word got out. Then the council assigned me.”

  I bit my lower lip, not sure I wanted to ask my next question, but I didn’t have a choice. If I was next, I needed to know what I was up against. “You said you and Grace were both destroyed. How?”

  He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at Bourbon Street. Then he turned and let out a humorless laugh. “You mean how did that bastard get past me—the so-called powerful witch whose only job was to keep her safe?” He cleared his throat. “I was out at a speakeasy. That’s how.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut. There was nothing I could say to that. No wonder the guilt had been eating him alive ever since.

  Julius turned again and then he took a step, vanishing right through the window.

  I jumped up and ran to the place he’d been standing. Peering outside, I scowled. He wasn’t there. He’d dropped a bomb and disappeared, leaving me as the target for some sort of magical ritual. Freakin’ perfect.

  With steam practically coming out of my ears, I stomped back over to the coffee table and picked up my phone. I hit a button and waited.

  “Pyper?” Jade said, her voice gravelly with sleep.

  I glanced at the clock and winced. It was past eleven. And we were both working at the café in the morning. “Dang it. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Go back to sleep.” I hit End Call and stood in the middle of my living room, not sure what to do. Bed? A bath? Go downstairs and see if Kane was there? It’s what I should’ve done. He’d want to know. He deserved to know. But I really didn’t want to leave my apartment and go into the club. There was no doubt I’d be stopped by at least half a dozen people befor
e I got back up here. Dammit.

  The phone started singing “Raise Your Glass” by Pink. It was Jade.

  I didn’t have a good grip on the phone when I hit the Accept button, and it flew out of my hand. “Shit!” I chased it as the thing toppled end over end until it landed facedown on the floor. After I picked it up, I stared at a cracked black screen. “Oh, son of a…”

  I pressed the button at the bottom. Nothing. Still a black screen. I groaned. The phone was only a few months old. If only I hadn’t cheaped out and skipped getting a case. I didn’t have a landline, so there was no way to call her back.

  It looked like I was headed to the club after all. I glanced down at my jeans and T-shirt, spotting a mustard stain. It figured. Well, it wasn’t like I was looking for a date. Not at the strip club. That was a hell no. I’d just slip in, talk to Kane, and slip out. Hopefully.

  I crossed the room, but as soon as I got to the door, Tru’s voice rang in my head. She says not to go.

  “Who? Grace?” I glanced around, hoping to see her, but nothing.

  No. Ida May. She says it isn’t safe.

  “Ida May?” She’d never showed up in my apartment before. Only the café. “Why doesn’t she just tell me herself?”

  She’s uncomfortable. Something about lingering magic giving her the creeps. But she’s adamant you don’t leave the apartment.

  I blew out a breath. The lingering magic had to be from Julius popping in and out of my apartment. It was weird that it bothered Ida May though. I wondered what that was about. Even so, since she’d gone out of her way to warn me not to go out, I wouldn’t. “Okay.”

  After Julius’s revelation and finding out I was in danger, even I wasn’t stupid enough to go traipsing off when a killer was on the loose.

  My guide went silent and all of a sudden I felt really alone. Like my place was too big and too quiet for me. Which never happened. I spent so much time with people that my apartment had become a sanctuary of peace. But not tonight. All it did was make me feel trapped.

  Out of sorts, I hurried into the bedroom and flipped open my laptop. After dashing off an e-mail to Jade to let her know my phone was dead, I clicked on one of my playlists and headed into the bathroom to draw a bath.