[Charlie Rhodes 06.0] The Incubus Impasse Page 13

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said finally, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “It’s okay. I get it. I knew something happened that night. I should’ve followed my instincts.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” He leaned closer and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Go back to the jail. What else should we expect?”

  “Just a bunch of ghosts, according to this. I still don’t understand how this is supposed to help us.”

  “That makes two of us. At least we can act like a couple on the tour. If this place is haunted I’m going to want to hold your hand.”

  “So you can protect me?”

  “No. So you can protect me.”

  A giggle bubbled up. “I think that can be arranged.”

  THE TOUR LEADER WAS A BEAUTIFUL brunette with an infectious smile. Salem Taylor claimed to be a local witch. Her mother had named her for the city in Massachusetts, and she was thrilled to share her knowledge of all things Wiccan.

  “Do you think she’s real?” Jack asked as he trailed behind me. He seemed more annoyed than enamored with the woman.

  “I don’t know. I’m guessing no. The eyeliner is pretty impressive, though, huh?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I prefer it when you go natural. You don’t need makeup.”

  “Oh, you’re so sweet.” We stood outside an old cell as Salem told the story of Lavinia Fisher. It was obvious she’d told the story so many times she could’ve done it in her sleep. It was still entertaining.

  “There are a lot of rumors about Lavinia,” she intoned gravely. “So many I can’t even count them all. The one I tend to believe is that she was a witch.”

  “Because of the potions?” I asked, briefly running my fingers over the bars. There was a dark energy in the jail. I didn’t know if it was really haunted — I’d yet to see a single ghost — but the blood spilled on the land had definitely tainted it. There was no doubt about that.

  “The potions are a big part,” Salem agreed, casting me a sidelong look. “Are you a practitioner of the craft?”

  “Not really. I’m just a paranormal buff. I’m no witch.”

  “Except when she first wakes up in the morning,” Jack countered, earning an appreciative chuckle from the men in attendance and dark glares from the women. “I’ll just be standing over here being quiet again,” he offered, causing me to laugh.

  “It’s good that you’re open to different things,” Salem offered. “There’s nothing worse than the negative energy of a non-believer.” Her gaze was pointed when it landed on Jack. “Doubt ruins it for us all.”

  “I don’t doubt Charlie,” Jack replied. “As for the rest ... I love little more than to learn something new.”

  “That’s true,” I offered helpfully. “Just this morning, in fact, we were discussing what happened to all those women who have been in the news. He says it makes the most sense for a paranormal entity to be involved because otherwise it’s too fantastical to believe.”

  Jack slid me an appreciative look but didn’t comment. It was clear he was impressed at the way I’d managed to turn the conversation.

  “I’ve been thinking that myself,” Salem admitted. “Everyone in the city is terrified that some creature might come after them. Nobody wants to be out alone at night. I guess, if something good had to come from this, it’s that.”

  “Nobody should be walking alone after dark as it is,” Jack offered. “You should always have a friend with you. Even during the day, if you can manage it. That’s the smart way to go.”

  Salem snorted. “I think it’s impossible to have someone with you twenty-four hours a day. If you have enough friends to cover all those shifts, more power to you.”

  “I just have Jack.” I jerked my thumb in his direction. “He likes to act as my personal bodyguard.”

  Salem’s smile was legitimate. “It’s nice to see two people so obviously devoted to one another. In this day and age, when technology divides us all, the simple act of bonding with another human being is more impressive than ever.”

  That was a weird way to phrase things. It was obvious Salem was riding high on the “peace, love and magic” train. I had no intention of diminishing her spirits. “I think it’s great, too,” I agreed. “What are people saying about the deaths? You guys have your finger on the pulse of the supernatural community. Do you have any ideas?”

  I didn’t think Salem had enough real magic to stifle a sneeze. She was the enthusiastic sort, probably prayed to the Goddess on a nightly basis and burned a lot of sage, but she wasn’t the real deal. I couldn’t feel even a hint of power emanating from her.

  “There are whispers.” Salem looked over my shoulder, clearly gauging the interest level of the other tour participants. Finding sufficient enthusiasm, she barreled forward. “The thing is, Charleston is home to more than one sort of creature. Witches are prevalent. Obviously ghosts are here. But there’s more than that.”

  I exchanged a quick look with Jack. He was obviously annoyed at the theatrics, but kept his opinion to himself. That was wise. We didn’t want to alienate Salem. I honestly wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “What are the whispers saying?” I asked.

  “It’s a vampire.”

  That wasn’t the answer I expected. “Um ... I don’t think so. I read in the newspaper that there were no marks on the bodies. Vampires kill by draining blood. They need puncture wounds, however small, to do that.”

  “Maybe it’s like the show True Blood,” one of the women volunteered from the back. “Maybe they heal the marks with their saliva right after so you can’t tell it happened.”

  That was a gross thought. “Perhaps, but that’s fiction. We’re talking reality.”

  “I’m not talking about the gothic representation of a vampire,” Salem volunteered, her enthusiasm building. She clearly loved being the center of attention. “I’m talking about a different sort of dark king of the night.”

  Jack grimaced and growled and I jabbed him with my elbow to keep him quiet. I wasn’t a fan of Salem’s ridiculous flowery language, but I wanted to hear what she had to say.

  “What sort of vampire do you think it is?” I prodded.

  “It’s an energy vampire. Instead of drinking blood, they suck the life force from individuals. It’s a quiet death, more dignified. We obviously have an insatiable killer in our midst.”

  On that we could agree, but I’d never heard of an energy vampire. “And where does the energy vampire hide during the day?”

  “There are plenty of places.” She gestured toward the cell directly in front of us. “There are parts of this building we’re not allowed to visit. I think it’s entirely possible that he could be living here, amongst the ghosts. I mean ... it’s possible.”

  Whispers fluttered behind me. She’d hit the perfect mark for her group and she knew it.

  “Now let me tell you about a reported vampire who lived in the jail for two years before his execution,” Salem started. “Both the capture and ultimate death are tricky on this one, so listen closely. This way.”

  TWO HOURS LATER, JACK BOUGHT us iced teas from a corner food cart, muttering a bevy of undecipherable complaints. I was used to it, so I let him vent and instead turned back to study the jail from afar.

  Protected under the shade of a huge willow tree was a familiar face ... and it was staring directly at us.

  “Isn’t that Brock Wilson from the aquarium?”

  Jack jerked up his head and followed my gaze. “Yeah. What’s he doing here? Was he on the tour with us?”

  When Brock realized we were staring at him, he turned and ambled in the opposite direction. Jack looked as if he was going to give chase for a moment, but we both knew that would be hard to explain if Brock started questioning him … or called the police.

  I glanced around. “I don’t think he was, but I was only paying attention to you and Salem. I tuned out everybody else.”

  “Let’s follow
him,” Jack suggested. “We’ll act like we’re doing touristy things. I just want to see.”

  I was uneasy enough to agree. “It could be a coincidence,” I said as I followed Jack.

  “Maybe, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.”

  We had that in common.

  Thirteen

  We never got a chance to talk to Brock. He disappeared down the sidewalk and when Jack tried to trail him, he was long gone in the crowds of tourists.

  “What do you think?” I asked as we headed back to Folly Beach. “Was he following us?”

  Jack shrugged, his eyes on the road. He was an excellent driver, but traffic was heavy and he was always cautious when driving a rental under the auspices of the Legacy Foundation. “I don’t know. He might’ve been there on a date or something. That’s always possible.”

  “He looked alone.”

  “Why do you think he was there?” There was an edge to Jack’s voice I couldn’t quite identify.

  I was having trouble even scraping up feasible ideas. “Maybe he’s the gossipy sort and wants to know what happened to his former volunteers. He might look like a big shot to the money folks if he tells them what’s going on.”

  Jack cocked an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Do you really think that?”

  “No, but it’s possible. Maybe the other donors believe they’re in danger.”

  “Unless they’re brunettes in their twenties that would seem a ridiculous conclusion.”

  “Fear motivates people in strange ways.”

  Slowly, even though traffic was wretched, his eyes slid to me. “It does indeed. Fear can freeze you in your tracks if you let it.”

  “I try not to let it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Sometimes I forget.”

  His lips curved as he turned back to the road. “Me, too.”

  We drove in silence for a bit, Jack reaching over to collect my hand once we were free of the worst of the traffic. After hitting Folly Beach, he parked at the hotel and then inclined his head in the opposite direction of the villa.

  “Let’s get lunch before we head back.”

  I didn’t even realize I was hungry until my stomach growled in unison with his footsteps. “I could eat.” I moved to his side and started studying the restaurant signs. “What do you want to try today?”

  “I was about to ask you that.”

  “It’s your turn to choose.”

  “I chose Fleet Landing.”

  “Yeah, but ... that was really good. You can choose again.”

  “Uh-uh.” He shook his head and made a tsking sound with his tongue. “You choose.”

  I pursed my lips as I gauged my options. “I like tacos.” I nodded toward a place called Taco Boy.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want, or are you only choosing it because you think it’s cheap?”

  “I like tacos,” I repeated.

  He frowned. “That’s what I thought.” His gaze was steady as he scanned the restaurants. “I know I said you could pick, but I think you’re trying to placate me — or at least make it so I spend very little money. How about Loggerheads? I saw a billboard yesterday. It’s near the water.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “I’m looking for boaters.”

  “Oh.” Realization dawned. “What kind of food do they serve?”

  “Typical American fare. Wraps, burgers, the like. They also have shrimp tacos.”

  I frowned. “Call me crazy, but I prefer my tacos made with beef, chicken or pork. Shrimp and fish aren’t supposed to be in tacos.”

  “Oh, really?” His grin was quick and sly as he slid his arm around my shoulders. “I didn’t realize you were so militant about food. Tell me all about it.”

  Because he seemed so amused on my stance, I did just that.

  LOGGERHEADS WAS THE SORT OF restaurant with a welcoming ambiance that made me want to eat three courses instead of one. We picked a spot on the patio, under a large umbrella, and ordered iced teas before reading the menu.

  “Do you really think you’re going to be able to get someone to take us out on a boat?”

  He shrugged. “I really think that wouldn’t be a problem if I could use the Legacy Foundation’s influence to secure a boat. Since I can’t, it’s been more difficult.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? You didn’t cause this.”

  “If I hadn’t seen the ghosts ... .”

  He rested his hand on mine. “We need to know about the ghosts. Whatever is happening here is far from normal. The tour today actually made me wonder a few things ... but I want to wait until after we order to talk about them.”

  He was essentially saying he wanted to minimize chances the waitress could overhear us. I was with him on that. “Good idea.” I focused on the menu ... and immediately started laughing. “They have something called a ‘Build Your Own Big-Ass Burger.’”

  Jack smirked. “That sounds good. Is that what you’re getting?”

  It was tempting, but I wanted to try something with a more regional flair. “I don’t know. I was thinking I might get the scallops.”

  His grin widened. “You love seafood.”

  “I do. I didn’t get many options in the Midwest. It was Red Lobster or bust. We had great Middle Eastern, though. I liked that, but there don’t seem to be as many options in Boston. Even when you find it, it’s not as authentic.”

  “If we go back to the Midwest, you can take me for Middle Eastern food,” he promised. “You can choose all the food in Detroit if we ever get lucky enough to land there.”

  “Oh, that’s a dangerous proposition,” I countered. “You’ll be eating coneys until they come out of your ears, and I won’t listen to a thing about it because you think they’re cheap. Just because they don’t cost much doesn’t mean they’re not delicious.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made the offer for you to pick the restaurant and then change my mind after the fact. I thought it might be easier for us to find someone with a boat here.”

  “You should’ve just said that.”

  “Sometimes I say and do completely idiotic things. I can’t seem to help myself around you.”

  We had that in common, so I let it go. Once the waitress returned to take our orders, the conversation turned to a heavier topic. Jack was serious when he delved in. “Do you think it could be witches?”

  I wasn’t expecting the question. In hindsight, I should’ve. He’d been attentive at the jail, but his suspicious eyes had been pointed at Salem the entire time. That was probably why we didn’t notice Brock was on the tour with us.

  “I guess I’m confused about why you believe that,” I said. “Is it just because Salem irritated you?”

  “She did irritate me,” he agreed without hesitation. “And there’s no way that’s her real name. I know she said her parents named her that because they were hippie moon children, but she’s full of it. She chose that name. I bet her real name is Jane or something.”

  He was so animated I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing. “Does it matter? I mean ... we have no reason to suspect her. We invited ourselves to her jail tour. She didn’t seek us out.”

  “I know that. She tried to point us in the direction of vampires really hard, though. I can’t help but wonder if that’s because she wanted us to focus in a different direction.”

  “Or she’s a little nutty,” I countered. “She didn’t say it was normal vampires. She said it was energy vampires. That’s something she obviously took from a book ... and not a history book. She’s a believer, like Chris. She doesn’t need facts because she enjoys letting her imagination run wild.”

  He was quiet for a moment and when he started talking again his tone was more measured. “Back when we first met, you let your imagination run wild. You’ve been more ... quiet, I guess is the word ... the past two weeks.”

  And here I thought our deep conversations — at least about o
ur personal relationship — were behind us. Apparently I was wrong. “What are you worried about, Jack?”

  “I don’t know. Usually you would jump all over the witch possibility. Now I’m the one suggesting that and you’re being a pragmatist. It’s like up is down and left is right. It’s freaking me out.”

  His response made me smile. “You’re afraid I’m trying to change to appease you.”

  “Maybe a little,” he hedged. “I don’t want that, for the record. I want you to be you.”

  “I want you to be you, too,” I shot back. “You don’t always have to be careful about stepping on my toes. You never used to worry about that. In fact, you bossed me around and told me I was an idiot.”

  He frowned. “I don’t want to call you an idiot. You’re smart. I’ve always believed that ... even when I thought you did idiotic things.”

  “I don’t particularly like being called an idiot. But if you think I’m doing something idiotic you should probably call me out on it. You’re not doing that. Instead, you’re bending over backward to make sure I’m okay.

  “I appreciate that, but I’m stronger than I look and I don’t want you constantly worrying about hurting my feelings, because that’s not who we are,” I continued. “It’s okay to yell at me occasionally. I mean ... I don’t want you turning into an abusive boss or anything, but our relationship was founded on arguments. I don’t want to lose that.”

  He blew out a sigh and gripped my hand. “Me either. I just ... I don’t want to push things too far. You’ve been through a lot. We’ve been through a lot. I want a little peace before we got back to sniping at one another.”

  “I can live with that.” I meant it. “I just want to make sure that we do get back. We’ll lose something bigger if we can’t be ourselves with one another.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. I still think witches are a possibility.”

  I had to laugh. He was just too funny. “Well, I don’t particularly think that. An incubus makes more sense.”

  “How do you figure? You said a spell was anchoring the souls of the victims to the water. That screams witch to me.”