Page 3 of Dead Ringer

So, him calling me on the afternoon of my day off? It wasn’t a good sign.

I dithered around until the call was just about to switch over to voice mail, and then answered while I was making for the door. I might not want to talk to him, but I wanted the hotel’s dead zone cutting out on him even less.

“Hey, Mister Howard,” I said. My voice sounded thin and a little shaky, even to me. “What can I do for you?”

Blaise Howard had a voice that rolled like thunder, deep and growling in his chest, promising to rain down destruction at any second. “We have a client coming in,” he said. “They’ve requested you specifically.”

I blinked. That was definitely not what I’d expected. “Oh. Alright. I can put them on the books.”

“They’re coming in now. They’ll be here within half an hour.”

My steps stuttered, my heels clicking against the pavement outside. “It’s my day off.”

“I’m aware, Miss Rowe. But they say the situation is most urgent. Are you able to do this, or should I call in Bailey?”

Oh, sure, Bailey got called ‘Bailey’. All I got was ‘Miss Rowe’, which was only my name on paper. Wanda’s vampire sweety, Lorcan, had offered me his family name and claimed me as a cousin, since I needed a new identity once it became apparent I wasn’t going back to my old translucent life.

I chewed my lip. Bailey, my friend and fellow medium, was good. Real good. But she’d also been going through some things lately. Plus, Mr. Howard already didn’t like me, and I needed to keep my job. Being alive was more expensive than it was when I last gave it a go around.

Besides, I could tell from the tone of his voice that this wasn’t really a request.

“I’ll be right in, Mr. Howard.” I opened my mouth to tell him I’d be just a few minutes, but he’d already hung up, so I didn’t bother.

My shoes, blouse and skirt were nice enough for going into the office, so at least I wouldn’t have to stop at home to change.

Once we’d stepped foot outside the hotel, Cain retreated to my body to save energy. So when he spoke, it was more like a whisper in the back of my head.

“What’s going on?”

“Come on, partner.” I unlocked my car and slipped behind the wheel. “We’ve got a case.”

Cain grumbled, but I could still feel his little fission of interest like a prickle of electricity running over my skin.

At least one of us was happy.

***

I loved my office at Spook Society. I’d gotten to pick out all the furniture and the decorations. From my glossy black desk, to the comfortable client chairs done in a bold black and white chevron pattern. Everything was the art déco style that had been a big deal back when I was alive. The first time, I mean. The only shock of color in the whole room was a stylized painting of a young woman with a short black bob dancing the Charleston in a bright red flapper dress.

And if the woman in the picture bore a slight resemblance to me, well, I wasn’t saying anything.

I’d felt pretty spiffy when I’d set out that morning. I wasn’t a clothes horse, exactly, but spending a hundred years in the same drop-waisted silk dress meant that I enjoyed being able to put together different outfits, and the ivory silk camisole and shrug Wanda had picked out for me, paired with a sleek dark skirt and some bright red lipstick made me look like the office was made to showcase me. It also made the most of my figure. And on that subject, let’s just say there was a reason it was so easy for me to pull off the straight up and down style of my youth. Because Miss Darla hadn’t been designed with much in the top or bottom departments.

Too bad for me, my client, Sophia Erepto, made me feel like the outfit I was wearing was something I’d fished out of the dump.

In her gorgeous silk wrap dress in the darkest green I’d ever laid my peepers on, tasteful gold jewelry and her black hair pulled up into a beautifully wound updo, Ms. Erepto looked like a real Sheba. Just, a million bucks. I tried not to squirm in my chair. No way was I going to let myself be intimidated in my own office. I mean, in spite of the few wrinkles that dotted her eyes, I was actually older than she was, for Pete’s sake.

Or, maybe it wasn’t about how she dressed or held herself, like a Queen holding court. Maybe it was aboutwhat she was.

The only heads up for the meeting I’d gotten was a hastily scribbled post it note stuck to my desk in Mr. Howard’s angular handwriting. He’d told me to be on my best behavior, because my client was a Graeae.

Now, I don’t know too much about the supernatural world, in spite of being part of it for a long, long time. I’d been kind of sheltered, all cooped up in the big house with Frank, after all. But I’d seen Clash of the Titans and a few other movies in my day, and I was pretty sure Graeae were loosely related to gorgons (think Medusa)—like second cousins removed and all that. While Graeae didn’t have snakes for hair, and they were more social than gorgons (who pretty much kept themselves isolated) Graeae could still do things like turn people to stone just by looking at ‘em. But unlike gorgons, they didn’t have to wear sunglasses all the time (in order to shield their eyes). I wasn’t exactly sure how a Graeae could turn someone to stone, but I also really didn’t want to find out.

While Ms. Erepto’s pointed look was making me feel like I’d just tracked mud through on her carpet, I still seemed to be made of flesh and bone, so that was something. Here was hoping I could keep it that way for the rest of the appointment.

I did my best to channel Wanda, folding my hands on my desk as I smiled. “What brings you in today, Ms. Erepto? What can Spook Society do for you?”

She crossed her legs in a smooth motion, flashing the red sole of her shoe. “My grandmother, Magda Erepto, passed away the other day.” Her voice was lightly accented, a bit of richness hanging around the consonants.

---