Текст книги "Lost Souls"

Автор книги: Delilah Devlin

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

10

Cait waded through the crowded lobby. Guests covered the couches and chairs while they whispered among themselves. The registration counter was blocked by others questioning the clerk about what was going on.

Three cadaver dogs had arrived, handled by private contractors who were already searching the floors in a methodical sweep, hotel staff with master keys letting them into every nook and cranny. A team operating sonar equipment was on the top floor and working its way down.

Rather than trail the dogs or the techs, Jason and Cait remained in the lobby, scanning the crowd, looking for anyone who appeared nervous about the search.

“What do you think about the kid in the green T-shirt?” Jason asked quietly.

“He’s worried someone’s gonna find his stash of weed,” she said, eyeing the skinny man who was sweating harder than was warranted—if he’d been an innocent man.

“There’s the manager, Avery Lewis.”

Cait turned to follow his gaze. Mr. Lewis wrung his hands, while his glance swept the people loitering in his lobby. Slightly disheveled, his suit was rumpled, his gray hair sticking up in places. He’d probably slept on his office couch rather than head home. She made a mental note to corner him later. Although he’d been interviewed the day after Sylvia’s death, he hadn’t been asked the questions she was most interested in hearing answers for.

Jason grunted, then pointed with his chin. “There’s the Reel PIs crew. They certainly don’t waste an opportunity.”

Cait’s upper lip curled in a snarl. “They’re recording this. When he gets here, I’ll have Sam tell the sergeant in charge to remind all his men that no one grants them an interview.”

“Think now might be a good time to bring them in on the investigation?”

For a moment, Cait fell silent. Things were already complicated as hell. As soon as they turned the crew loose on the investigation, the police would have their hands full keeping them safe and out of trouble while they watched to see if the incubus flashed his hand. “Jesus, I hate those guys.”

“Because they’re posers?”

She shrugged. “They don’t understand how dangerous the situation can get. They treat this like it’s some big adventure.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’re the real deal.”

She snorted and waved a hand. “And Santa Claus really does squeeze his fat ass down chimneys.”

“Bet all you ever got was a lump of coal. Anyone ever tell you that you have a bad attitude?”

She flashed him a grin and then began winding her way through the crowd toward the Reel PIs crew.

Clayton spotted her first and elbowed Booger, who bent to Mina’s ear.

She whipped her camera toward Cait.

“You’re the one who got electrocuted yesterday,” Mina said, peeking around her handheld unit and pushing her cat’s-eye glasses up her nose.

“I’m consulting with the police.”

“You a psychic detective?” the girl asked.

Cait flashed her a pained smile. “No, just a plain old PI.” She scowled at the camera before turning to Clayton. “We need to talk.”

Clayton straightened his shoulders, his demeanor changing instantly. His shoulders straightened, which pressed his large round belly forward. “I figured you might.”

“Follow me,” she said, crooking her finger. As soon as she turned her back, she rolled her eyes at Jason, who hid a smirk.

She led them back to the break room and closed the door. The film crew took seats in front of the metal table. With the sounds from the lobby muffled, she sat opposite them, blowing out a breath that billowed her cheeks. “I’m Cait O’Connell, and this is my partner, Jason Crawford. Folks, we could use your help.”

From his seat, Clayton narrowed his eyes. “If we agree to help, you gonna let us keep our recording?”

“Why?” Was this a break in the case? “Do you have anything?”

“Tons of orbs on the third floor.”

“Uh-huh.” Cait forced her expression to remain unchanged. “I’ll have Jason get with you to review the footage.”

Jason kicked her foot under the table.

She cleared her throat. “We want to set up surveillance on the third floor. Something that augments what the police are currently doing.”

Clayton glanced around at the rest of the crew before speaking. “Because they don’t have our specialized equipment and won’t know what to look for?”

She gave Clayton a grave nod. “That’s exactly it.”

His brown eyes narrowed. “Can we get access to room 323?”

Cait held her breath for a second, remembering the problem she’d had. If these guys were innocent of any wrongdoing, she couldn’t put their lives in danger like that. She shook her head. “Too dangerous. Look at what happened to me.”

“Then it wasn’t just bad wiring.” Clayton leaned toward Booger. “Told you the manager was full of it.”

Cait smiled. “Let’s set up the equipment to watch the third floor at the end of the hallway where 323 sits. We’ll monitor it remotely to keep everyone safe.”

“We can’t leave it unattended.” Clayton frowned. “Someone might walk away with our stuff. It’s expensive.”

“All the other guests on that floor are being moved. We can assign you a room on the third floor for you to set up and monitor your feeds, but far enough away so you won’t get tazed like I was. The PD is placing uniforms at the elevators and stairwells to control who enters. Sound satisfactory?”

Clayton glanced at Booger, who gave him a quick nod. Mina’s head jerked up and down like a bobble-head doll. Firming his lips, Clayton turned back to Cait. “We get to keep our footage, any readings we take.”

Pretending to give his request serious consideration, she took her time before she gave him a solemn nod. “We’ll make copies if we need them.”

Clayton leaned closer. “We get to interview the detective in charge.”

She nearly laughed. The thought of Sam being interviewed by a group of paranormal investigators, scowling and growling, was just too funny. “You can talk to me. Detective Pierce and I are working very closely on this one.”

Eyebrows raised, Clayton’s glance swept her. Booger’s did too. “She’s cute. Should look great on camera.”

Cait elbowed Jason because he was snickering beside her. Then she reached out a hand. “I think we have a deal.”

Clayton gave her hand a crushing squeeze. “Deal.”

“For now, stick around the lobby.” She circled her hand. “I’ll have to discuss this with the PD and get a room cleared out for you.”

“I really appreciate this opportunity to work with you, Ms. O’Connell.”

“Same here, Clayton. And everyone calls me Cait.”

As the trio trailed out of the room, already talking over each other with excitement, Cait turned in her chair. “Good Lord, what did we just get ourselves into?”

“Sounds like you’re gonna be on TV.” Jason’s grin was gleeful.

She huffed. “Those cranks will never sell it to the network.”

“They will if they actually film a ghost.” They shared worried glances.

A knock against the door frame sounded, and she glanced up to find Sam striding into the room.

“I saw the TV crew leaving.”

“They’re on board. I’ll need to coordinate access to a room on the third, away from the action, for their equipment. Once the dogs and sonar are gone, they’ll be setting up to watch tonight.”

“And your part in all this…? You have the ink?”

She patted the pocket of the thin black leather jacket she’d thrown on over yet another dark tank—her summer uniform because she was in the habit of not thinking about what she had to drag out of the closet first thing in the morning. Since she was staying in the hotel throughout the day and likely most of the night, she didn’t worry about the summer heat.

A squawk sounded from the radio Sam held in his hand. He listened for a moment, met her gaze, dipped his chin, and then turned on his heel to leave the room.

“We should roam a bit,” Jason said. “Take a look at everyone and make a list. Tick off their names as we go and exclude likely candidates.”

“I’ll leave that to you. I haven’t checked out the dining room or the bar. Might help to flash around Oscar’s photo and see if anyone saw who he’s been talking to.”

Together, they left the break room and reentered the hallway leading to the foyer. The crowd was less dense now.

The manager was standing in the center of the room and hurried over when he spotted them. He looked a little less harried than before. He wiped his damp forehead with a handkerchief before giving them a tired smile. “I’ve been moving guests out of the foyer so your people don’t have to wade through a crowd. Most are in the dining room. A few headed to the bar. I brought in more staff and offered guests half price off the menu and the booze for their inconvenience.” His fingers jerked the lapels of his jacket. “Do you have any idea how much longer this is going to take? I’ve already had half a dozen people ask for their money back and check out.”

“Shouldn’t take more than a few hours for the dogs to make their way through. Depends, I guess, on what they find. You’ve been here a while, Mr. Lewis?”

He nodded. “Started as a busboy in the restaurant when the hotel first opened.”

“Ever notice anything odd?”

“The Deluxe used to be a respectable place.” He shook his head, his faded blue eyes staring owlishly through his thick black frames. “Nice clientele. Pilots and stewardesses. Businessmen. But then more and more hotels sprung up, closer to the city center. Nicer. Now, it’s blue-collar workers and the usual one-nighters,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile. “We cut a break to keep some longtime residents filling the rooms.”

“We’ll need a list of those long-term guests.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’ll go put that together for you. Shouldn’t take me long.”

Cait smiled her thanks. As soon as he was out of earshot, she cut a glance at Jason.

“Yeah, adding him to the list too.” His chin dipped. “And any other older employees.”

Cait sighed. “We’re assuming the demon has kept the same persona all these years.”

“We have to start somewhere.”

They strode down another hallway to the dining room. A corkboard beside the entrance listed the limited menu and various event posters—the one for the AA meeting being prominent among the bunch.

After a quick scan, she wrinkled her nose at it and stuck her head into the room. Faded multicolored carpet in wine and green. Mismatched dark furniture. Framed prints that looked as dingy as the rest of the decor. Still, the food smelled good. Her stomach rumbled.

“Have you eaten?” Jason asked, as though reading her mind.

“I could do with a breakfast biscuit. Want to grab something for me while I check out the bar?”

His eyebrow rose, but he gave her a nod and headed toward the cashier’s desk.

Cait took a deep breath and turned on her heel. The bar was right next to the restaurant, and she wondered if the alcoholics stopped in for a quick drink after their meetings.

Inside, the bar was cozy, as it should be, with rich old leather booths, smooth, heavy wooden chairs. A large glass mirror at the back of the bar reflected the comfy golden glow of recessed lighting and highlighted the lovely hues of the bottles lined along two sturdy shelves in front of it.

“Thought I might find you here today.”

She jerked and glanced over her shoulder at Eddie Bradley, the EMT who’d transported her to the hospital the day before. “What are you doing here?”

His smile was warm. His gaze swept over her, lingering on her face. “Just curious. I’m off today. But I have an emergency bag in my car just in case. I got the impression yesterday that you’re accident-prone. The emergency staff at the hospital knows you by name.”

She gave him a steady look. “It’s kind of you to worry, Eddie, but as you’ve probably seen, we have tons of people on the premises.”

“Okay, you have me.” He lifted his hands. “I was hoping to see you. To make sure you were all right. You did leave before the doctors checked you out.”

“I’m right as rain.” She waved her hands down her front and held them at her sides.

“Yes, you are.”

His smile was slow, his sleepy eyes the kind that invited a woman’s confidence. A subtle come-on. Luckily, she was immune to his charm. “It’s a little early for me to buy you that drink.”

He flashed a sheepish grin. “That was just an excuse. And I’ll stay out of your hair. I just dropped by.”

“Yeah, to check on me.” She narrowed her eyes as she continued to study him. “You should probably know that drink won’t ever come. I’m a recovering alcoholic.”

“You attending meetings?”

“Haven’t found one yet,” she said, omitting the fact she hadn’t really been looking.

“I could introduce you to the guy who runs the meetings here. They meet tonight.”

“How convenient,” she muttered. “But I’ll be working.”

He shrugged and held out his hand. “Well, when you’re ready then.”

She gave him hers, a little reluctantly because he was a very yummy guy and his smile was killer. The moment their hands touched, she felt warmth flood her body, flush her cheeks. A moment passed before she pulled away and wiped her hand against the side of her jeans.

“Hope you find what you’re looking for, Caitlyn.”

She watched him move away and decided to add him to her list. Out of self-preservation, maybe, because her hand still tingled and her heart had sped up while he’d tried flirting. She had a man. A damn good one. One she meant to keep, although she suspected Eddie would be an easier partner, less in her face about her mistakes and weaknesses.

A comfortable kind of man to be with.

She shook her head. Yeah, Eddie Bradley was going to the top of the list of possible incubi for the simple fact she found him tempting.

By noon, four more female bodies had been found inside the third-floor walls.

All dried husks with missing organs. All doused in scented oils to cure and mask the odor of rotting flesh.

As they were all nude and no identifying items were found with them, Sam held out little hope they’d get IDs for weeks as they waited on DNA testing. If they or someone in their family were even in the system.

Darkness was falling as the last of the little army of crime scene techs finished up with the final rooms. Entering the room the Reel PIs crew had been assigned to set up their equipment, Sam found Cait, hands fisted on her hips. Besides Booger, Mina, and Clayton, another woman stood in the row with the wannabe film crew facing Cait.

At his approach, Cait glanced over her shoulder. “We have a psychic,” she said, her voice deadpanned.

Sam’s lips tightened in irritation. The investigation was already a circus.

“Madame Xavier is here to walk the hall and pick up any bad vibes.”

The portly woman straightened her shoulders and lifted her double chins. “I’m here to communicate with the dead.”

Cait rolled her eyes.

“She’s got loads of experience with police investigations,” Clayton said, his words tumbling in an excited rush. “We’re lucky she was free to help on such short notice.”

Cait’s thin smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, we’re so lucky,” she said, her tone remarkably even. “However, I would recommend you not enter the last hallway.”

“The point of conflux?” Madame Xavier nodded. “Being wary is wise when there’s the possibility of a demonic possession. So much more powerful than any ordinary ghost.”

Cait’s eyes widened.

The woman whose shoulders would have looked good on a linebacker returned Cait’s thin smile, a hint of challenge in her bright hazel gaze.

Cait returned her stare, then murmured, “Maybe we can use you after all.”

The woman nodded, her teased-high, carrot-red hair bouncing. “Perhaps we should talk privately.”

“Let me grab my handheld camera,” Mina said quickly.

Cait speared the younger woman with a glare. “Ground rules, Mina. When I need to talk to someone about confidential details of the investigation, you have to let us speak alone. I promise there will be plenty to film later.”

Mina’s lips pressed into a straight line. “Fine. We have to tune our equipment anyway.”

As Cait led the way, Sam stood aside. He gave Clayton a warning glare to stay in place and then followed the two women into the hallway.

Cait eyed the woman curiously. “You said demonic possession.”

The older woman gave a dramatic shiver. “I felt it. Smelled the vague scent of sulfur when I walked through the front door. Didn’t you?”

Cait didn’t seem surprised that the woman addressed her as an equal. “Not until I was poking my head into the wall where the first body was found.”

“I’ve had experience with spirits and demons. Not all the cases I help the police with have involved human monsters.” Madame Xavier’s gaze studied Cait, her eyes squinting a bit as she did so. “So many dark colors around you, dear.”

“You reading my aura?” Her body stiffened.

Sam pressed his lips together at the note of affront in Cait’s voice. She acted as though the woman had lifted her skirt to peek at her underwear.

The psychic’s expression softened. “You’re not very accepting of anything metaphysical, are you?”

“I’m not… I don’t have a problem…” She finished sputtering, then simply scowled. “No.”

“And yet you have powers I’d give anything to possess.” She raised a penciled eyebrow and stared as though trying to see inside Cait. “I’m just a psychic, not a witch.”

Cait’s face tightened. “I’m just a PI.”

“So you say. But so many violent colors surround you. Dull red and orange, edged with black. I’d worry more about your nature, but there is blue as well.” Her gaze narrowed. “You are searching for truths. Perhaps for answers?”

Cait shook her head. “All I want to know is who to pin the murders on. If you can help with that, I can handle the rest.”

“Unfortunately, my sight is rarely so clear.” A shoulder shrugged. “I can divine clues. Pick up on energies. But I can be useful.”

“What do you propose?”

“I must do a cleansing, then cloak myself and anyone else who accompanies me as I search the floor.”

“That would be me.”

Madame Xavier nodded, squinting again and training her gaze along the outer edges of Cait’s frame. “I sense you’ve already worked a little protective shield of your own. That’s good. What I will do won’t be nearly as powerful. There’s white light radiating through all your murky colors.”

Cait inhaled, and Sam sensed her impatience with the woo-woo language. Despite being the real deal, Cait preferred to keep things ordinary, tangible. Something he appreciated, because all this talk of auras and energies was still a little hard to swallow without his gut churning.

“The techs should be done shortly,” he said. “As soon as I sign off, we’ll have access to the halls.”

Just as the words were out of his mouth, a man wearing scrubs and paper booties approached with a clipboard. “Detective, we’ve got everything bagged and tagged. I just need a signature.”

Sam reached into a pocket of his jacket for a pen and signed off as the officer in charge of the crime scene.

“Have problems with your plumbing?” the tech asked.

Sam blinked then looked at his pen.

Cait smothered a smile, and raised a brow. He’d swiped her Nick the Plumber pen from her kitchen drawer.

“No, no plumbing problems. Good work.”

As the tech left, Sam glanced around. The Reel PIs crew was crowded together, looking out the doorway.

“We on?” asked Clayton.

Sam nodded. “You can set up the cameras and listening devices, but I’ll want you off the main floor and back in this room as soon as you’re done.”

The crew darted back into the room, their eager chatter growing loud.

Madame Xavier touched Cait’s arm. “I’ve already cleansed and sealed the room to the best of my limited abilities. I sensed nothing dark there.”

“Good,” Cait said, her smile unfeigned this time. “I’ll leave you with Sam,” she said, eyeing him.

He gave a quick nod, thinking his reputation would be in shreds the moment the rest of his team heard about this surveillance. But somehow, he was relieved Cait wouldn’t be without some backup, however inept.

Cait angled her body toward his and glanced up. “I have something I have to attend to. But I’ll be back shortly.”

Sam pulled her a few feet away. “Gonna work that spell?” he asked, dropping his voice.

She gave him a wink. “Yeah, it’s time to see if Sylvia has anything to say.”

11

Jason and Cait sat at a table in the bar, bent over a napkin. The lighting was poor, and her chicken scratch didn’t make it any easier to read the words she’d scribbled.

“I need something that rhymes with peek,” she muttered.

“Seek?”

“Oh, that’s good.” She scratched a couple more lines before pushing the napkin across the table. “What do you think?”

Jason held it to the light to read the spell she’d worked on and then lifted his face to give her a dubious smile.

Cait frowned, blushing, because she knew she sucked at poetry. “The Powers know not to expect anything fancy from me,” she said defensively.

“Maybe they’ve got a sense of humor,” he said, sliding it back.

Cait wadded the napkin in her hand and shook it. “This will just have to do. I’ve already wasted half an hour. There’s no telling what kind of trouble those Reel PIs have gotten into.”

They took the elevator. Cait kept her gaze fixed on the digital readout. The elevator was old and slow and tended to shake a bit as it rose.

When they reached the third floor, Cait flipped the stop switch and waited to see if an alarm rang. When it didn’t, she glanced at Jason. “Good a place as any. Private.” She reached into her pocket and removed the vial of butterfly blood ink, shook it, and then pointed at his chest and twirled her finger.

Making a face, Jason turned and hunched over.

She set the napkin against him, uncorked the bottle, and pulled out a quill.

“That gonna bleed through my shirt?”

“Probably.”

“Great. Just what I need.”

“All right,” she muttered. “I’ll use the floor.”

Jason straightened and stood back as she knelt and bent over the napkin. As soon as she dipped the quill in the ink and began to write, the paper soaked up the first letter, forming an illegible blob. So she copied the rest of the words in large block letters to the side of the spell she’d written in plain ink.

When she was done, she straightened, held out the paper, and took a deep breath. “Ready for this?” she asked, looking at Jason for moral support.

“Am I going to see anything?” He held his body stiffly.

“Not likely.”

“You’re the witch. Go for it.”

A pounding sounded on the elevator door. “Anyone in there?”

She aimed a glance at Jason for him to handle it while she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind.

“No problems here,” he shouted, his words echoing loudly against the metal walls. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Get a damn room!”

Cait closed her eyes and evened out her breaths. She tried to imagine a riverbank with clear blue water. Sunlight filtering through shade trees. When she had the image locked in her mind, she felt calm envelop her, her thoughts narrowing, all the noise and hurry drifting away.

In a moment of quiet, she opened her eyes and read from the napkin.

“Spirits guide me, lift the veil.

No harm or greed do I entail.”

She heard a groan, but ignored it.

“Let me take a tiny peek

And find the spirit that I seek:

Sylvia Reyes.”

She bit her lip. “Think that did it?”

“That took you half an hour?”

The lights in the elevator dimmed for a long moment before flickering back on.

A silvery outline of a woman filled in slowly, like ink spilled into a glass. An echo of a scream started faintly, then grew and grew. Color exploded through the figure: bottle-blonde hair, red Sharpie-outlined lips and thick dark mascara, a shimmery, too-tight top and much-too-short-for-church skirt. Hot pink heels.

“Holy sheet!” Sylvia Reyes’s hands patted her abdomen, and then she bent over to look at her belly before at last darting a glance up at Cait. “Lady, what the hell did joo do?”

“Did it work?” Jason whispered beside her.

Cait didn’t take her gaze off the apparition glaring daggers her way. “She’s arrived, all right. Sylvia, I’m Cait. This is Jason. He can’t see you.”

“You some kinda spirit guide come to tell me joo made a mistake?” Her thick Spanish accent clicked like castanets. Her words were bold, but there was real fear in her eyes.

“A mistake?”

“Joo gonna take me down there?” she asked, her nasal tones pinched.

“Are you talking about Hell? Were you in Heaven?”

Sylvia lifted her shoulders. “I don’ know. It was nice. Like mi abuela’s house in Meh-hee-ko.” She aimed a leery glance around the elevator car. “Uh-oh. I know what thees place is.”

“You’re not in Hell,” Cait rushed to reassure her, “but I did bring you back to where you were murdered.”

“Joo some mean bitch.” She jerked her head. “Thees the las’ place I wanna be. Crazy sheet happened here.”

Cait offered an apologetic smile. “We know. And it’s going to keep happening unless I can find a way to stop it. That’s why I need you.”

“Joo don’ understand.” Her hands clenched. “He ain’t human.”

“Believe me, Sylvia, I’m well aware of that fact.”

“Send me back,” the woman said, stomping one pink stiletto.

“I will,” Cait said, ignoring Jason’s raised eyebrows. “As soon as we have what we need. And as soon as I figure out how to do that,” she added under her breath.

“What?” Sylvia’s dark eyebrows drew together in a ferocious frown. “Joo brought me here and joo don’ know how to send me back?”

Cait winced at the woman’s shout. “I wasn’t a hundred percent sure this spell would even work,” she said, holding up the napkin, “but if I can summon you, surely I can put you back.”

Sylvia huffed and folded her arms over her bosomy chest. “I gotta bad feeling about joo, mija. Some bruja joo are.”

As she blew out a deep breath, Cait’s cheeks billowed. “Just stay close. The guy you were coming to meet, can you tell me anything about him?”

Sylvia’s dark gaze slid sideways to Cait. “Joo know about him?”

“Oscar told us everything.”

“Oscar! Pfft! Why I ever married him, I don’ know. Man liked to use his fists to ween arguments.”

“The police are wondering if maybe he was in cahoots with your lover boy.”

“No es posible. Eduardo is everything that slimy toad eez not. Kind, romantic—did joo know he called me his mariposa—”

“Rubia, I know. I get it. He was a doll. But he might also have been an incubus.”

At Sylvia’s blank stare, Cait shrugged. “Another kind of demon. A seducer.”

“Mija, now that I can believe.” She sighed. “He was more handsome than Antonio Banderas.”

“Antonio?” Cait asked, wondering if there was another boyfriend lurking around.

“Banderas—joo know. Zorro! So handsome he took away my breat’. And so kind…” Her eyelids dipped dreamily.

Cait couldn’t recall anyone among the guests who resembled the actor. “She says her boyfriend looked like Antonio Banderas.”

“A shape-shifting incubus?” Jason murmured.

Cait pursed her lips. “Well, hell. Then that would mean he could be anyone.” She sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head as she realized the creature’s true nature. “He changes appearance, even demeanor, according to a woman’s fantasies. That’s how he plays them.” Her heart thudded sickeningly against her chest. “Fuck, that’s how he played me!”

“What?” Jason’s gaze sharpened and he edged closer. “Sam know about this?”

“Nothing happened. It was just… flirting. Sort of.” Her body stilled. “Fuck. If he knows I’m on to him, I wonder if he can change his appearance again to hide.”

“Joo know Eduardo?” Sylvia asked, excitement quickening her already rapid-fire words. “We gonna see him? If he was in cahoots with Oscar, I got some t’ings to say to him.”

Cait reached out to hit the switch. The doors slid open onto a dark hallway. “Jesus, what the fuck now?” She peeked outside the car. Red beams of light pierced the darkness up and down the hallway. She released a relieved breath and stepped out. “Flashlights.”

“The power’s out?” Jason whispered, as he joined her in the hallway.

“I see a spirit!” Madame Xavier’s voice echoed in the darkness. “Her essence is bright, luminous. She’s right beside you, Cait.”

Cait was instantly glad for the darkness because she rolled her eyes. “Sam?” she called.

“Right behind Madame,” he said, irritation deepening his voice. “I see you had some success.”

Cait made a face as he shone the light at her. “A lot of good it’s gonna do.”

“I don’ like thees,” Sylvia hissed with a shake of her head.

“You don’t have a thing to worry about,” Cait whispered out of the side of her mouth. “You don’t have anything any demon here wants.”

“Got more than joo do, chica,” she said, lifting her heavy breasts with her hands and pressing them together.

Glad for once that no one else could hear or see what Sylvia did, Cait moved forward, meeting Sam in the middle of the corridor.

He lifted her hand and slapped a flashlight against her palm. “Clayton insisted,” he said, his voice growling with irritation. “They’re using infrared.”

“Super,” she murmured. “Which means we’re left in the dark.”

“You’re the one who thought this was a good idea.”

Mina rushed forward. “I see a large smudge, roundish, next to Cait.” Her voice was tight with excitement.

“I not round,” Sylvia grumbled.

“Round is a shape,” Cait quipped.

Cait aimed her flashlight past Mina, in the direction of the hallway where the bodies were found. “Sparky hasn’t joined us yet?”

“Not a peep,” Sam muttered. “Beginning to think this might be a bust.”

A shadow ducked from around the corner of the possessed hall, and then back.

“You see that?” Cait asked, pointing. “Somebody else is up here.”

“We sure about that?” Sam asked, then raised his voice to shout, “Booger, Clayton!”

“We’re watching the feed,” came a muffled response. “We’ve already got some great stuff. Orbs, that round smudge Madame Xavier saw.”

“I not round.”

Cait scowled. “Shush, the only one who can hear you is me.”

“Huh. How nice for joo. See how joo like bein’ ignored. La cucaracha, la cucaracha, ya no puede—”

“Seriously, you’re gonna sing that?”

“I’m a Mexican woman, not Patrick Swayze. Ya no puede caminar—”

“Sylvia, this is not the place!” Cait hissed.

“I’m scared.” She shook her head, blonde hair flipping from cheek to cheek. “Somet’ing don’ feel right.”

“You feel?”

“O’ course. I feel the floor beneat’ my feet ot’erwise I’d be falling t’rough it.”

“Can you feel me?”

Sylvia moved to touch her arm, but her fingers slipped right through her.

“That tickled.”

“I didn’t touch you,” Jason said beside her.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Cait shot a glare to the side.