Talking Bones Read online

  He nodded. “No? I can see that. Apparently I’m being more abrupt than usual.”

  “Really?” She smirked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “I don’t think much of anything gets by you, and I do not suffer fools either,” he stated in a silky voice.

  She stared at him and asked quietly, “Are you calling me a fool?”

  He shook his head. “No, and I can see that your defense mechanisms are already standing at full attention. I’m really not here to harm you.”

  “Interesting, yet you say the darndest things.”

  He frowned, as he studied her again. “Can we drop the pretense?”

  “Please do,” she agreed patiently, not sure where he was going with this, but afraid she wouldn’t like it.

  “I need help finding my uncle.”

  “And what has that got to do with me?” she asked, a frown crossing her brows in bewilderment.

  He scowled, as if finally realizing it was possible that he had the wrong person. “My uncle, I am afraid he’s missing.”

  “Have you gone to the police?” No way would she try to find a lost uncle. What gossip had he listened to?

  He sighed impatiently. “Of course I have. And, having exhausted all leads, I’m here, looking for assistance from you.”

  “And whatever would possess you to come to me for help?”

  “Well, you’re the one who talks to all these ghosts in here, aren’t you?” he asked, with a negligent hand movement.

  Her heart clamped down tightly, and she stared at him in shock, her breath frozen in her chest.

  “I could see them when I came in, at least some of them,” he explained. “I have a very general ability, not a full slate like you do.”

  “I don’t get it,” she admitted, covertly gasping for air.

  “And I don’t have the time or the patience for this,” he snapped. “My uncle might be dying, and I need help finding him.”

  She frowned, her mind trying to figure out just what this was all about. She’d never had anybody come to her with that kind of a request before. “What do you mean, he’s dying? I thought you said that he’s missing.”

  “Yes, and I got a note saying that, if I didn’t produce something specific, he would die.”

  “I still don’t get it. What makes you think that, even if I could talk to ghosts, or whatever you’re saying I do here, that I could find a man, who is living?” Her confusion was real. She didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on here or why this guy had targeted her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave my store.”

  “And how many people will you gather up in order to force me outside?” he asked in a hard tone.

  She stiffened. “Are you threatening me?”

  He considered her for a long moment and then seemed to relax. “No, I’m being sincere. I need your help to find my uncle.”

  “And yet you have not, at any point in time, explained how you’ve come to believe that I could help in any way,” she argued.

  “I was hoping that you would be more honest, but I can see that you’ve built a life for yourself here by keeping those abilities hidden from this world. I hadn’t really expected that.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” she asked, shaking her head. “Even if I did have skills that you could utilize in some way, the world is not kind to anyone with abilities they don’t understand.”

  “No,” he agreed. “I just assumed that, when you relocated, you would have found a better way to make it all work to your advantage.”

  Her breath caught midway through his sentence. What could he possibly know about her relocating? “Stop,” she snapped abruptly. “I don’t know what this is all about. I don’t know how to find anybody. And, if the police haven’t found a way, I sure as hell can’t.”

  “But you have to,” he stated.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What makes you think I have to do anything?”

  “Because my uncle is also a distant relative of yours—he was into genealogy as well,” he added, with a crooked smile. “And, if you don’t help, according to the letter I received, everything about your life will become public.”

  She looked at him in shock. “I don’t know anything about your uncle, but I do know that you, sir, are not related to me at all.” That she knew instinctively. She could tell from his energy that they shared absolutely nothing.

  “That’s quite true,” he admitted, “blood relative of my mother’s. And we’ve been very close all my life.”

  This was so far out of what she could even process that she didn’t know what to say. When she found her voice, she replied, “First, blackmail never works on me. Second, lying to me, trying to spring some surprise family on me, doesn’t work either. Since you seem to have delved into my background some, then you already realize that I have zero family, as far as I know. What game are you playing?” She stared at him, still trying to figure out what he was up to.

  He nodded. “Which is also why I guess I can understand your reaction at the moment. But, if you will hear me out, I could explain.”

  “So far you haven’t said much of anything yet, except for the thinly veiled threats and innuendos which I don’t appreciate. So, pardon me if I don’t look like I’m exactly thrilled about listening to anything more you have to say.”

  He winced. “I get it. I haven’t been the most forthcoming. Put that down to being very worried about our uncle.”

  “Your uncle. Not mine. Drop the phony family angle. I still don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

  “So, Uncle Jonesy,” he began, with a gusty sigh and an attempt at a beguiling smile, “disappeared two nights ago, and I’ve been frantically looking for him ever since. He was staying close by, and I found out that his last stop on Tuesday night was one of the shops on this strip. I believe it was yours.”

  She shrugged and shook her head.

  “Then I got a note from somebody,” he added, “and, yes, the police now have that note. It says, Jonesy’s been taken prisoner, and, if they don’t get what they want, they’ll make sure that both your world and mine become public.”

  She focused on him for a moment. “If my world becomes public, it would be a huge inconvenience, but I would just move on. Not a whole lot I can do about it otherwise.”

  He nodded. “And you’ve done that a time or two already.”

  “Once really,” she stated, her tone stiff. “What is it you’re trying to hide from?”

  “Well, let’s just say I have zero interest in having my world become public either,” he replied.

  “So what then? You expect me to help you find out where this … Jonesy of yours is?” she asked. “I don’t have any skills for that, whether my family or yours.”

  “According to this note, you are family, and it goes back several generations.”

  She waved a hand. “Which means nothing. I was adopted as a baby.”

  “I get that. And you probably are also aware that your records are not available.”

  “I haven’t tried to look.” She stared at him. “And just how would you know that?”

  “Since getting this note and working with the police, we’ve worked hard to try and figure out what your family connection is.”

  “As I’ve repeatedly told you, there is none.”

  At that, the bell on the front door rang again and in walked a police officer. She swore under her breath. Something about the police just completely changed the energy in her shop.

  “Gentlemen, you do realize that I’m trying to run a business here, and, no offense, but cops and angry strangers really don’t do anything for sales.”

  The cop grinned at her affably. “Sorry about that.”

  Yet he obviously didn’t give a shit. She groaned and asked, “What is this all about?”

  “I’m sure he’s already told you. He just asked to step in here a few minutes early to talk to you privately.”

  “Great. However, I have no idea who this Jonesy guy is, havin
g never met him.”

  “We have video camera proof, showing him coming here Tuesday at the end of the day.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Do you have a picture of him?”

  Immediately the cop stepped forward and held out a photo on his phone. She looked at it, then frowned. “I kind of remember him. Let me think for a minute.” She focused her memory for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, he was looking for some tarot cards.”

  “Do you know which ones?” the nephew asked, his voice intent.

  She shot him a glare. “He was looking for a very old set, but I don’t have anything even close to that here at all. He did ask me if I knew of any.”

  “Well, whoever kidnapped him wants this particular set and appears to believe that Uncle hid them somewhere since getting them.”

  She stared at him. “Well, I never had them, and I certainly didn’t sell that or anything else to him. I didn’t do anything but speak with him briefly for a few moments,” she shared. “I don’t know anything about those particular tarot cards. What’s the draw about them anyway?”

  The cop turned her words on her. “You tell me. You said they’re rare.”

  “I said they’re old,” she corrected. “Like turn of the century—and that’s just according to Jonesy. I think he told me something about how they might have been involved in several murders.”

  “We have one other reason why we’re here,” the cop added, with a not-so-affable smile.

  In fact, his teeth almost appeared to sharpen as he studied her.

  “His jacket was found on a side street and inside was a note to see you personally.”

  She stared at him in shock, not liking anything happening here. “Outside of talking to him Tuesday night, and telling you all we discussed, I don’t know anything about it. So what is this all about?”

  “How about the term talking bones?” the nephew asked quietly, the powerful energy around him stronger now.

  Her gaze darted his way and then back at the cop. “No, I don’t understand that phrase. What are you talking about?”

  The cop laughed. “It seems that the uncle thought you were capable of identifying bones.”

  “What does that have to do with tarot cards?” she asked, getting more puzzled by the minute. “I’m hardly a pathologist or whatever science is involved in that skill.”

  “He was looking for the tarot cards that he thought were involved in several murders, and he has several bones that he wanted identified,” the nephew stated abruptly. “According to everything he left behind, he believed you were the person who could do it.”

  As she stood here, shaking her head, she recalled the ghosts had given her a warning about her crazy day coming and also recalled Tomo’s words about needing fortification for whatever was to come.

  *

  Gage studied the woman before him. Skylar wore a short-sleeve black T-shirt, showing off myriad tattoos that only highlighted her creamy white skin and black hair, long enough to be twisted atop her head and skewered in place. For all his newfound energy abilities—granted, he was still learning—she was damn good at cloaking. He couldn’t see behind her shield. He did sense more souls stuffed in her shop, almost like sardines.

  Did she even know? Was she the one who collected them? Were they tied to her? Souls would tether to a human for a lot of reasons. But Gage had seen occasions where they were tethered and didn’t want to be. But, even as he studied the small store as surreptitiously as possible, he couldn’t see any sign of tethers. Damn, he wished he knew more—could do more.

  He frowned, as he tuned out of the conversation between the cop and Skylar. Gage had wanted to come in here all on his own, so he could assess who she was. He’d seen the cracks in her shield beginning, before the cop walked in, but her fortress had immediately become indefensible again.

  He understood that anything to do with law enforcement was like a blatant stab wound to her heart because they had so little belief in this stuff. Maybe in this town, more than any others, there could be a little wiggle room for voodoo and the like, but mostly probably only for the voodoo practitioners of old. Skylar here was a newcomer, and that meant she was not one of them.

  Gage wondered if she even realized it.

  The energy in here was interesting; it was dark, and yet he noticed it had lightened considerably. As he looked over at her, she waved her hands gently, as if brushing a spiderweb from around her. He continued to watch, fascinated, as light beams drifted from her hands, easily lightening the atmosphere of the store. Talk about an interesting trick. Did it help with sales? Or was it merely to bolster her own mood?

  Although she didn’t advertise it as a voodoo shop, her store was esoteric in all things. Sure, the typical kitschy tourist stuff was all around, but he highly doubted that she made much money off any of that. If she didn’t, he thought with a frown, while studying the price tags on the items closest to him, how did she survive?

  Caught by a question the cop was asking about her whereabouts, she gave a flat answer, her response in a weird monotone, as she stated, “I was upstairs in my apartment.”

  “Can anybody verify that?”

  “Of course not. If you’re asking if I live alone, yes, I live alone. Did I have friends over last night? No, I had no friends over. Did I go out last night? No, I didn’t go out. I was watching TV.”

  “What did you watch?”

  It was meant as a trick question, but she gave him a flat smile and named two shows that were just probably true enough that she was off the hook.

  The cop wrote it down and asked, “So, you have no idea what happened to this man?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Good, in that case, sorry to bother you.” And he stepped back. The cop looked over at Gage. “I told you it would be useless.” And, with that, he walked out.

  Gage turned, then looked at her and asked, “What about the bone?”

  Her gaze shot upward to read his expression. “What bone?”

  He pointed at the floor. She frowned and walked around the counter and looked, found a small bone, too big to have been a finger bone but nowhere near big enough to be an arm bone. She leaned closer and studied it. “I have no idea where that came from.” She looked over at him suspiciously. “Did you put it here on purpose?”

  “Hell no,” he denied forcibly, “but it’s possible that it’s part of my uncle’s collection.”

  “Why would he have a collection of bones?”

  “Because he found several open graves, and, when he went back to identify the dead, only a few bones were still there and were scattered about. Unfortunately he discovered this after bringing a crowd of people with him to check it out. They all had laughed at him and had taken off.”

  “Your uncle does seem a little eccentric,” she murmured.

  “Yes, he is, but that does not make him senile or stupid.”

  “No, of course not,” she agreed immediately. “Older, slightly rotund, with wispy white hair and a genial smile on his face?”

  “That’s him. He’s a good man.”

  “He did appear to be very interested in the tarot card set.”

  “Yes, but that also could have just been a diversion.”

  “For what though?”

  “I don’t know.” His angry frustration bled into his tone. “But what are the chances that he left that bone behind?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” she stated helplessly. “I don’t know anything about this.”

  Just then the door opened, and a large group of tourists came in. She smiled at them, nudging the bone farther underneath the counter in the display area, so it was hidden from sight. Why? Obviously she was trying to hide it or was it more that she didn’t want to touch it?

  Then she turned to face her customers again.

  Gage stepped out of the store, separating himself from the crowd of cheerfully chattering tourists. They all looked to be about the same age. Slightly older than fifty, probably younger than seventy, all
of them wearing bright clothing. Most were overweight but not horrifically. They were all in shorts and looked to be having a grand old time. Other tourists filled the street, but Gage saw no cops. His phone buzzed, a text from his brother.

  Any sign?

  No, he texted back immediately.

  Studying his surroundings, Gage didn’t know what to do next. He needed to talk to Skylar again, only that wouldn’t happen as long as she had a store full of tourists. He noted the beignets that she had been trying to eat and how lean her face was. She needed another twenty pounds to fill out the hollow planes on her face.

  He also noted an odd smell to the store. Whether that was her or the beignets mixed with the bone or something completely different, he had no idea. He wished he could speak to the spirits that he seemed to see milling about her store, but none had stepped forward in any shape or form recognizable as someone in particular who he could talk to. The only time he’d ever successfully talked to a spirit, they’d approached him in human form, with very clear and distinct details, and had spoken to him first.

  Those in her store were just ghostly forms in all sizes and shapes, who stood wall-to-wall inside, but he didn’t understand why. He wondered if the spirits were connected to the building. He had now wandered in her store and previously in the other likely stores on this street, but no other shop was full of spirits like Skylar’s was. True, he didn’t see spirits all the time, but her place had been divinely attuned to them, for some reason.

  Gage knew he needed to rework his game plan, as he wandered toward the river and sat on a bench. He tuned out the world around him and tried to just focus on the water, calming himself as best he could.

  When his phone rang an hour later, it was his brother again, calling this time. “What now?” Gage asked abruptly.

  “I don’t know,” Terrence replied. “You tell me. What now?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I am not sure where to look next.”

  “Uncle did this all the time. It was his biggest hobby to go wander around town, hit a few shops, and then come home again. So what’s so different now that he’s disappeared?”

  “I’ve checked along this street already today. I’m not sure where to go next. I don’t really know my way around here.”