Dead Corse (4 page)

Mom set a thick white candle in front of Rhonda. The black wick
was long and curled at the top and I recognized it as one of the candles from
the mantel in the botanica. “You’ve seen what Zoë can do and you know what
Jemmy and I can do. Now I need to see what you can do and if you have the
potential.”

“Potential?” Rhonda asked.

“Yes. For magic. Real magic, dear. Not that bullshit you were
doing in the basement. The fact you can see Zoë when she OOBS—”

“Oobs?”

“Goes Out-Of-Body,” Jemmy interjected as she turned pages.

“—affirms to me that you just might have it. But you’ve never been
trained. So while Zoë eats and regains her strength, let’s see you light this
candle.”

I munched as Rhonda looked around the table and shrugged. “I don’t
have a match or lighter.”

“I want
 
you
 
to light it. No other means.”

Ah. I knew this trick.

Rhonda stared at the candle. Her brows knitted together until she
looked like Bert from Sesame Street. After a good few minutes she shook her head.
“That’s impossible. No one can light a candle with their mind.”

“Ah, then I see the first lesson.” Mom reached out and pinched the
candle for a few seconds before she quickly pulled upon the wick. It sparked
and flamed blue and then settled into a steady yellowish light.

I understood the principles of how it worked. But I could never do
it. I wasn’t magically inclined. I felt like I had the better super power
though.

Rhonda’s eyes were goose eggs.

I finished up the bowl and burped. Mom thumped the back of my head
and I rubbed it.

Mom then pinched out the flame with her fingers and stepped back.
“Rhonda, press the wick hard and in your mind think of depriving it of all
oxygen. Think of the properties of fire, the hermetic ones, and believe that
when you pull up you’re giving that wick back its life. Don’t say it can’t be
done, because you just saw me do it.”

I finished up my tea as Rhonda mimicked what mom did then pulled
up—and removed the burnt wick from the candle. She opened her fingers and it
was stuck to her skin.

I laughed.

Rhonda looked upset, then she looked pissed off.

The nib of unburned wick smoked, sputtered and then a three inch
blue flame shot out of it. Second later it winked out and a long thin wisp of
smoke streamed from the doused flame.

Jemmy looked over at the candle and then at Rhonda’s shocked face.
“Yeah she’s got it—but she’s got a lot of anger too. Need to work on that
first, little bender, or all your wants will eat you alive.”

“I did it…” Rhonda said in a soft voice. “I actually did it.”

“Yes, and you did it without touching it.”

She looked at mom. “Can you do that?”

Watching mom’s face I caught something there I didn’t like. It was
the same flicker of sadness she always gave me when I asked her about my dad.
“No Rhonda. I can’t. But I think we all know you have the potential. I will
agree to give you custody of that book when you find it on one condition. But I
will talk to you about that in private.”

My jaw dropped. “Hey, I’m being paid to get that book for that
guy.”

“I don’t trust him Zoë. In fact I don’t trust either of your
present clients. For now, I suggest the two of you should work together to find
the book. And quickly. Halloween is tonight and that house will be crowded.”

“Then I suggest more dumplings,” I said as I pushed the chair out
and grabbed up my bowl for another helping. Rhonda nodded and followed me into
the kitchen to help herself.

I wasn’t sure I wanted a partner to do this, but I did need help
when it came to timing.

I just couldn’t get the image of that exploding wick out of my
mind. I would hate to imagine that as someone’s head.

• • •

I sent JGrayson an email telling him that I hadn’t found it yet
but I had a few more rooms to explore tonight. If I couldn’t find it by then I’d
be refunding him his money. After that I showered, snacked again and then got
into Rhonda’s car.

“What is this thing?” I had trouble getting my knees out of my
face.

“It’s a Rav4. It was my brother’s car and I inherited it when he
died.”

“When did he die?”

“Last year,” she started it and pulled out on the road. “I don’t
want to talk about it so let’s just say it’ll do for now. But I’d like to get a
Volkswagen Beetle.”

Ick. Another tiny person car. “So, you always wanted to be a
witch?”

“Yes and no. I liked it in the movies and I think I kind of
romanticized it. Didn’t realize the reality was a bit more complicated. I also
didn’t think I could do anything magical until I saw you the other day and I
really thought I’d exorcised one of the ghosts at Dead Corse.”

“Dead Corse? Shouldn’t that be dead
 
corpse
?”

She stopped at a red light. The day was overcast, which made the
changing leaves on the trees even prettier. They looked like they’d been spot
colored on a monochromatic background. “Corse means corpse. Just a
fancy-schmancy way of saying it. Dead Corse is the name of the Haunted House
for the company, but the house itself was owned by the Durgans, old Irish
family. Allegedly the matriarch was a witch from Cork. She disappeared a decade
ago. Rumor is she had a book of Book of Shadows that had its own legend in
Ireland. It contains the secrets of a hundred years and its cover is made from
the skin of of a Durgan warrior.”

Ew. “And you want it why?”

“Because it’s supposed to have spells in it. Secrets of a hundred
years? Doesn’t that just scream
 
want
?”

“No,” I made a face. “It screams gross, human skin, Purell.”

Rhonda laughed. “Either way this guy you got the email from to
find it? Jack Grayson? He’s the missing matriarch’s grandson and he’s been
trying to get his hands on the book since she disappeared.”

“So—why not just go into the house himself and look for it?”

“Because he went to jail for a while and the house went into
foreclosure right after she vanished. The guy that bought it has been in talks
with a land developer about leveling the house and selling the twenty acres
piece by piece. The developer’s wife is a cancer survivor so he talked the
owner into renting the mansion out so they could do the Haunted House for
charity.”

“Ten years? Why so long? I mean, what’s holding up selling it?”

“The will. It stipulated the house would be sold when it was ready
to be sold.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I have no idea. But it’s exciting isn’t it?”

I gave her a sideways look.
 
Phreak
.

There were a few cars in the side driveway and the security guard
checked Rhonda’s ID. I gave the dead trees around the place the once over.
Every other tree in the neighborhood up to the Durgan property still had a
bouquet of fall leaves. Trees on the property?

We’re talking the Dark Forest.

This was the first time I’d seen the house in the daylight.

Once parked Rhonda reached behind her. She retrieved a huge
backpack and started rummaging in it. “I want to try something. It’s a hunch on
a theoretical application of a spell I’d found that supposedly came from this
particular BOS. I discussed this with Nona and we came to the conclusion this
might work.”

Riiiight.

When she pulled a gold pocket watch with a long chain out of the
backpack I laughed. “What is that for?”

“Timing you. It’s going to take a few applications, but I think
time is definitely your kryptonite.”

First clue that Rhonda Orly was a nerd. Heh.

I took the pocket watch. It was nice and well polished.

“Put it in your pocket.”

I did, though it took a bit of wiggling in the seat as well as
some turning. I wore tight jeans.

“Now do the OOB thing.”

I hadn’t tried to OOB since I woke up and I was a little afraid
too. That last experience scared me. I leaned the seat back, closed my eyes and
did my thing. I’m not sure I can describe what it’s like or how. It’s just
something I can do. Sort of like seeing the image in a Magic Eye picture.

Rhonda gasped as I opened my eyes. I was half sitting in my body.
The physical part reclined and the ghosty me sitting up. “Okay, now what?”

“That…is just cool as shit,” she grinned.

I like her.

“See if you can pull the watch out of your pocket.”

“I can’t touch physical things.”

“Just try.”

I did as she asked—and to my surprise—my fingers closed around the
cool, smooth surface of the pocket watch. With my own shocked expression in
full view I pulled the watch out of my physical pocket and popped it open. The
face of it changed. It no longer showed the standard twelve numbers, but four,
each one placed in the four quarters of the circular face.

I showed it to her. She reached out and her hand went through me
 
and
 
the watch!

“This is so awesome,” she said. “To finally see something work!
Now, notice the face? Watch as the minute hand goes down? The four at the top
is the number of hours I think you should limit yourself to in a twenty-four
hour period.”

“Why four?”

“Because that’s what I came up with talking to your mom and Jemmy
on how long you’ve been OOB before and it didn’t bother you. So from now it’s counting
down four hours. See?”

Now that she explained the watch to me I could see the count down.
“Only four hours?”

“We can always change it if you can stay five. But for now, let’s
work with four. And since it’s moving, we need to get going. Stay OOB ’cause I
can’t get you in there without an ID.”

We covered my body with the big black blanket and headed inside.

None of the actors were there yet. It was still early in the day,
just after four. A few workers in plaid shirts, hard hats and utility belts
were there fixing minor damage created from the lines of people coming and
going. You’d be surprised how much damage a person can do just standing in
line. They get bored and start picking at shit.

No one was in the staging room, aka the living room, when we stepped
in. I beelined it to the door then stopped and glanced at the painting.

Rhonda was right. There wasn’t a little woman in the painting. It
was all just woods.

I swallowed and moved through the door.

It’d been dark the night before so I hadn’t gotten a good look at
things. Afternoon light filtered through a single window to the right of the
door. The room was definitely a study or an office of some kind.

A large desk took up most of the floor space to the left, facing
the window. A portrait of the house hung on the wall behind it and it looked
like it was the same artist as the one in the living room. I moved through the
desk to look at it. The painting appeared to have been created when the house
was in full occupancy. The trees were all in bloom and the sky was blue. There
was even a little figure in white in the woods to the right. It looked like the
figure of a woman in a long dress.

I froze.

It was the same woman I’d seen in the other painting.

Whoathat’sfreak’ncreepy!

I had shivers on top of shivers as I backed away from that
painting and kept my distance. The rest of the space was wall shelves full of
books and a few open spaces where plaques and framed pictures hung.

“Well?” Rhonda said on the other side of the door. I couldn’t
unlock it for her.

“I don’t know. Can you pick a lock?”

“Not a padlock. Crap, should have brought bolt cutters. Oh wait,
someone’s coming.”

I got to work, looking around the shelves, under the desk,
sticking my face in the desk drawers. Nothing. I didn’t seen anything that
looked like a Book of Shadows ’cause well, I didn’t really know what I was
looking for.

Standing in the middle of the room I reached into my pocket to
check the watch. I’d been OOB for twenty minutes tops. Wow. I liked this thing!

I glanced up at the painting just past the watch’s face.

And froze.

The thing had changed just like the other one! The leaves in the
painting were no longer green and in bloom, but were now bright oranges,
yellows and reds. Leaves littered the ground around the house and the little
white figure was now closer to the house.

“R-Rhonda?” I called out. “I think we have a little problem.”

She didn’t answer.

Crap. She said someone was coming. Maybe they had her leave the
room? I slipped my watch back in my pocket and took a step back to the door. I
needed to sieve through and go tell her there were haunted paintings in this
house!