I considered anything under fifty degrees to be bitterly cold, thank you very much.
“I’ll drive them to the dealership,” Donovan informed Jon. “Be back in a bit.”
“Actually, can you stop by the post office? We’ve got bills to mail out.”
“Oh, sure.”
Brandon held out my jacket, and I slid my arms in, huddling in close to my personal space heater as we headed for the car. What with the limited parking space back there, I had chosen to park my Accord at his parents’ house, and between Brandon’s truck, Don’s pickup, and Jon’s Humvee, it was a tight squeeze getting into Don’s king-sized truck.
Only once we were on the road did I find the right moment to explain to Brandon from the backseat, “I’ll call Edmée in a second and get the low-down. As for problems…I’m not sure how to explain. Or start.”
“What’s your hometown like?” Brandon inquired, helpfully prompting me.
“Opelousas is not what you would call a prosperous place. It’s the parish seat, and I think there’s about twenty thousand people living in about seven and a half square miles.”
“Wow, that’s a pretty dense population,” Don remarked, his eyes flicking up to meet mine in the rear-view mirror. “What’s the atmosphere like?”
“Very heavily Catholic and poor.” Remembering what life had been like in my childhood, I grimaced. “My mother’s never made more than twenty-five thousand in a year, and she’s considered better off than some of my relatives.”
Both of them whistled low, shaking their heads in disbelief.
Brandon knew more of my history than Don, and he turned in the passenger seat to give me a look of incredulity. “And she raised seven kids on that?”
“It was…tight. We always kept a house garden, which helped. Anyway, superstitions run pretty thick down there. Edmée’s not one to jump at shadows, which concerns me. Her moving concerns me, as there’s not a lot of good places to move into.”
My partner gave me a knowing look. “How haunted is Opelousas?”
“About on par with Eureka Springs,” I confided, referencing the place we’d met and worked our first case together.
Don, never a fan of ghosts, groaned in horror. “That sounds horrible.”
It had been, as a child. A very sensitive child who had no safe place to run. Even now, as a fully trained medium, I shuddered on some level at the thought of going back down there. If it wasn’t family calling for me, I’d have passed this on to someone else.
Warm fingers grasped mine and squeezed them gently, reassuring. I looked up to Brandon and saw his eyes on me with concern and affection. Brandon was about as sensitive to the supernatural as a drowned log, but I still found comfort in him. His unwavering support had been eye-opening over the past thirteen weeks. If he told me we were going to move a mountain, I’d believe we could do it, just because he said so.
I still didn’t want to go. Looking at him, though, I believed I’d be fine. And that made all the difference in the world.
So I took a breath and squeezed his hand back, giving him a smile. “Really glad you’re armed now, mon cher.”
“Yeah, me too,” he responded cheerfully.
Although I was worried about him being armed for a different reason. Most of my relatives preferred to give me grief when I saw them. I expected some brand of trouble while we were down there.
Of course, he read that worry off my face.
“Does that mean I can shoot your relatives?”
“Now, cher, play nice.” I grinned wider as I knew he was kidding. (Mostly.)
“I will if they will.” Brandon’s smile was not at all kind.
It was probably wrong of me, but I looked forward to the moment I could introduce my big-as-a-mountain boyfriend to my family. Some of them wouldn’t take it well. It would be like two banty roosters meeting in a hen yard—the fight was inevitable. I didn’t imagine they’d come out on top.
Donovan stopped for a red light and gave his brother a suspicious look. “Armed? What kind of weaponry would they issue you, Brandon?”
“I’ve got a modified shotgun and Glock that can fire rock-salt rounds,” he reported, still happy as a clam with the new toys he’d been issued after passing the tests. “Plus a very heavy-duty water pistol that shoots holy water. Oh, and a regular Glock for the non-ghosts who need shooting.”
Donovan looked impressed but also dubious. “How are you supposed to shoot something you can’t see?”
“They gave me thermal goggles too. I can at least see the shapes of them.”
Only on my deathbed would I admit that when he put on the goggles, had the shotgun in hand, and wore the tactical vest with all of those weapons and gear strapped to him, he looked like a hero stepping out of a steampunk novel.
As they got to talking guns and such, I called up my cousin. Edmée and I only talked about twice a year, on her birthday and mine, but still I considered her to be one of my closest cousins. She’d always been sweet to me, and I’d move heaven and earth for her if she asked me to.
The phone rang twice before her husky alto came over the phone. “Mack, funny timing. I was just talking to your maman.”
“Were you?” I responded, glad to hear it. My mother knew the basics of how to keep ghosts at bay. “How’s your grandmaman and them?”
“We’re doing alright. I don’t know if you heard, but I got me a new place.” The fear started to edge into her voice.
“I know, I heard. Edmée, I’m the FBI medium coming to your rescue.”
She sucked in a sharp, rattling breath. “You are?”
“My partner got cleared for full duty Friday. They put high priority on your case because you’ve got a child and you’re my relative. My boss gave me first chance, and I took it. We’ll be in Opelousas tomorrow night.”
Edmée let out a sharp sob, quickly muffled. “Oh God, oh God, Mack, you’ve no idea how relieved I am to hear it.”
“Shame on you for not calling me earlier,” I scolded. “You know I’d have come.”
“I didn’t want to bother you in the training. Your maman, she said to do it, but you’ve got such a good start on life. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”
“Pfft, who’s ruining anything? Now, you tell me what’s going on.”
“Mack, I don’t know what to do, I really don’t. Cali’s got scratches on her almost nightly. She wakes up screaming, telling me there’s a bad man trying to drag her out of the bed. I put salt around her bedroom and the sills and such, and it’s not helping. I did it around my room too, and she’s been sleeping with me, and that’s helped. Whatever it is, it can’t seem to get into my room.”
Now that was interesting. “Think carefully. Are there any antiques or anything in her room?”
Edmée fell silent for a long moment. “No. No, not that I can think of. Most of it’s new, or new enough. We had to buy her a few things from the thrift store when I moved, but none of it’s over twenty years old, I don’t think.”
“Okay. Sometimes ghosts attach themselves to objects. If barricading her room isn’t helping, then whatever the problem is likely originates in that room.”