Page 9 of The Devil Went Down to Laughlin
“It’s possible,” she said. “And for all I know, your thoughts are more shielded because of your demon blood. It’s really hard to say, since I’m kind of flying blind with all this.”
That was for sure. She’d had years to get used to her ghost-whispering talent, since it had appeared when she was only seventeen, and she’d now had more than ten years of living with it. This mind-reading thing? It had come on the scene only five weeks ago, and because she hadn’t even tried to work with this strange new gift — mostly, she’d just hoped it wouldn’t pop up during an inopportune time, like a client meeting or something — she didn’t have much idea of what it could or couldn’t do.
If Ty Carter had stuck around and tried to work with her on the newly expanded talent, then maybe she’d have a better grasp on her ESP, or whatever you wanted to call it. But he hadn’t made the slightest attempt to get in contact, although Pru had reported that he appeared to still be teaching tennis at the DragonRidge country club, just as he had been for the past five years. Maybe he’d decided there was no reason to stay in touch, since the immediate danger appeared to have passed. Delia thought that was a little crappy, considering he’d admitted that he was the one who’d prodded along her psychic talents and gotten them to expand, but maybe he thought she was a big girl and could handle all this on her own.
The angry set to Caleb’s jaw had relaxed somewhat, telling her that he understood she was at a loss here and was just trying to muddle through everything as best she could. “It must be rough,” he said. “Sorry I jumped down your throat.”
She summoned a smile. “I don’t think you did exactly that,” she replied. “I mean, I understand why you would be worried about all this. But it sure feels to me as if Aaron isn’t being influenced by any outside forces. He’s just trying to figure out a way to survive — and the best way for him to manage that is to get his grandmother’s house sold.”
“And the best way for that to happen is for you to get rid of whatever spook has taken up residence there,” Caleb said. He let out a breath and sipped some more champagne. “I get it. I still don’t like it…but I get it.”
“I’m sure it’ll just be your standard de-haunting,” Delia said, glad she wouldn’t have to keep persuading him there was absolutely nothing to worry about. “In fact, since Aaron didn’t mention that the house had been haunted before this, I have a feeling it’s his grandmother’s spirit not wanting to let go of the place where she lived for so many years.”
The beginnings of a frown touched Caleb’s brow. “Won’t that make it harder to get rid of her?”
At least Delia felt pretty secure on that front. After all, she’d done this sort of thing many times before. “Not necessarily. If she only died about seven months ago, then she hasn’t been haunting the house for very long. A lot of the time, the longer a ghost has taken up residence, the more difficult it is to convince them to let go.”
He appeared to mull over those words for a second or two before giving a reluctant nod. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she guessed that this would be a relatively easy cleansing. She could probably be in and out in less than an hour.
Piece of cake.
Chapter Three
The more she researched Alba Sanchez, though, the more Delia wondered if she might be dealing with something much more than a simple haunting.
Oh, the woman had definitely passed away last fall…in November, just as Aaron had said…but Delia still found a few mentions online about her that sent up more than one red flag.
The supernatural kind of flag, anyway.
It sounded as if Alba had been something of a curandera, or herbalist, who used folk remedies from her native Mexico to help others in the family, as well as many others in the Laughlin area who weren’t satisfied with the options offered by the more traditional medical community. She delivered babies and sat with people at their sickbeds, and more than one person claimed they’d been miraculously cured of cancer or MS or some other autoimmune disease thanks to the medicine she’d provided.
Not so long ago, Delia might have thought this was all a load of crap, just the placebo effect working in overdrive. Now, though, after realizing that demons…and angels…and all sorts of other supernatural entities and powers were very real, she knew her mind was much more open to the possibility that there was a lot more in heaven and earth than she’d ever imagined.
Which meant she had to allow the idea that Aaron’s grandmother had possessed some sort of magical healing gifts.
However, some other items Delia had found — such as mentions of Alba organizing potlucks and fundraisers at her local church, St. John the Baptist — made it sound as if she’d also been very devout.
Had Alba ever experienced some dissonance in trying to reconcile her strict Catholic beliefs with the powers she’d apparently possessed?
Hard to say. Then again, Delia would have thought that someone so obviously religious wouldn’t have any trouble moving on. After all, Alba must surely have believed in Heaven, and if she’d spent a good part of her life helping people, then she should have had an express ticket to the pearly gates.
Delia had been doing most of her research on her computer at the office, since she had just enough appointments booked that Monday that she wouldn’t be allowed the luxury of working from home. In fact, she hadn’t gotten as far as she would have liked with her investigation into Alba Sanchez, since between writing up an offer for a home she’d shown the previous Friday and fielding phone calls, her free time had been fairly limited.
In fact, Delia had to turn away from the computer once again to answer the phone, only this time, it was welcome news.
The loan on Caleb’s house had been fully funded, and that meant the title company would be sending the cashier’s check by courier later this afternoon.
That was pretty much what she’d told him was going to happen, but still, until the money was physically in his hands, she knew she’d still find herself worrying whether something catastrophic was going to happen at the last minute to prevent him from getting his payout.
She was just about to call him and give him the good news — and tell him he should be able to swing by after three to pick up the check — when her phone rang.
Not a client, though.
Her friend Prudence.
