Truth Seeker Read online

  "Uh oh, you sound like someone who's about to fall in love."

  Maggie shook her head. "He's just another one in a long string of mortals I have to deal with. I don't think I'll ever find another like you, Raph."

  Now Raphael placed his hand over hers. "You could retire, you know. Settle down. I'm too old to make you happy, but someone like your friend there…"

  Maggie laughed and looked away. "You know I can't lie, so I'll admit it's tempting to retire and settle down."

  "You've been alone a long time."

  "Ages. But I've got too much work to do. There's bad magic afoot."

  He nodded, his expression serious again. "Someone's up to mischief for sure, then?"

  Maggie glanced at the sky. A gray cloud had come over the sun, shadowing the entire area. "Something like that. I can't believe that whoever it is has managed to build this network right under our noses. The chain's fairy logo should have tipped us off that a nonhuman is involved."

  "You've been busy for the past few years." Raphael patted her hand. "Even immortals make mistakes when they're overworked."

  "I'm just concerned that it's gotten this far." Maggie gestured to Philippe's list, which he had given her upon request. It started in the Northwest and spanned all parts of the country. "Some powerful spirit is building a fast transportation network, and I still don't know who intends to use it…or for what."

  "More coffee?"

  "Please." Maggie sat back in her chair and pondered the list. "And can anyone use it? That's the big question. The trick is in finding the right bag at the right time. Something causes the beans to charge on a spiritual level, but the phenomenon doesn't happen all the time."

  "And he just stumbled on it?" Raphael shook his head as he poured the steaming black liquid into the cobalt blue mug. "I don't believe in coincidence, Maggie."

  "Coincidence doesn't believe much in humans, either. I'll send her with her sister Dumb Luck for a visit sometime, and you can change each other's minds."

  "He's involved somehow, mark my words, girl. He may be the key, even if he doesn't realize it." Raphael looked straight in her golden eyes. "You may have to truth-spell him."

  "I know, but I hate doing it. My glasses slipped, and I accidentally did a little at dinner."

  "I know you hate it. That's why you're the Truth Seeker."

  "The job's up for grabs if you want it."

  Raphael laughed, his teeth large in his wrinkled face. "I'm too old to learn to be an immortal. I'll leave that up to you."

  "Thanks."

  "Though you could use a partner."

  Maggie arched an eyebrow. "Thanks, but I work best alone."

  "Just a thought from an old man's wandering mind. How long are you going to let the boy sleep?"

  "As long as he needs. I feel worn out after chasing him, and I don't require slumber. He must be exhausted."

  "Go for a walk, then, and puzzle it over. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

  Maggie headed west through the scrub. To her, the place seemed crowded, even though there weren't many mortals in the off-season. She nodded to the spirits she saw and waved to the familiar ones. Raphael's ranch was a healing place for some, a haunting place for many. And he welcomed them all. His kind soul had been one reason she'd opened up to him decades ago. And his shamanic heritage had allowed him to see what she was. She'd miss him when he went on, and guessed he'd be called to a greater plane than an earthly haunting.

  The spirits seemed restless. Sometimes her presence alone unsettled them, as though they felt that one of the law enforcers of the spirit world was a threat. She ignored it as usual and just enjoyed being outside. She could feel warm if she wanted to, but she didn't bother with mortal sensations. What haunted her was not current events or even the mystery of the coffee shop chain, but Philippe's dark eyes. Mortals often fell in love with her, but she rarely felt anything in return. She'd thought it carelessness that he trusted her, but she realized that he sensed something of who she was, although like most mortals, he'd gotten it wrong. He considered her his traveling muse, his guide.

  And he'd been hell to catch. But she had caught him. She always did.

  Maggie watched the sun set, then turned back toward the ranch. A dark cloud seemed to hang over the buildings. Not wasting time with walking, Maggie zapped herself straight back to Philippe's room, where he still slept, but twitched. She slipped through the door to the hallway just as Raphael ran up the stairs.

  "What's wrong?"

  Raphael, his tan face ashen, clutched his chest and spoke in gasps. "Vampire bats. A whole horde of them nesting in the trees."

  "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

  "No." Raphael struggled to catch his breath. "But they say they'll swarm if we don't hand over the boy."

  "Oh, for Pete's sake. Seriously, are you okay?"

  He nodded. "Just winded. I don't move as fast as I used to. But where are they coming from, Maggie? There's too many of them to be from around here."

  The potential explanation chilled her. "Maybe they traveled the tunnels."

  "Can you zap you and him out of here?"

  Maggie shook her head. "Too risky. If I lose my hold on him, he'd be doomed to tumble through nonspace forever."

  The sound of leathery wings and claws on wooden shutters startled them.

  "You'll have to risk it. Once full dark settles, who knows what they'll do to the humans here?"

  Maggie studied Raphael with a frown. "Are you okay? You don't look well."

  Raphael shoved her back toward Philippe's room with surprising strength for his frail appearance. "You take the boy and go. I'll be fine."

  The thought of losing the target she'd worked so hard to catch made her hesitate. "I guess I don't have a choice."

  "There's always a choice, girl."

  Maggie went into the room, where Philippe, his eyes wide with fright at the squealing and clawing at the windows, sat up in the bed.

  "C'mon, kid, we're out of here."

  "Kid?" Philippe smiled at her. "You can't be that much older than I am."

  "You have no idea. Now take my hands." She held hers out to him.

  "Wait. Let me put my shoes on."

  "Hurry!" The shutters sounded like they would rattle off at any moment. Philippe slipped his feet into his sneakers without tying them.

  "That'll have to do. Now." She grabbed both his hands, yanked him off the bed, and thought about where she wanted to go. Someplace far away and too small for one of those large chain coffee shops…

  The bats broke through the window, a black cloud among splinters of wood, and Philippe ducked before the image faded and blurred into dark colors that resolved themselves into the main street of a small town. The ground under his feet tilted—a sidewalk on a hill. They stood on the corner of the business district, and a blinking red light illuminated the storefronts in flashes. Maggie held his hands so hard it hurt.

  "You can let go now." As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't.

  She cocked her head before releasing him. "Are you all the way here?"

  "I think so." He tried to shake the feeling back into his fingertips. He could see his breath and cursed that he was underdressed for the weather…again.

  "We need to get you a coat," Maggie told him. "And some new shoes. You lost one."

  Philippe looked down. His small toe peeked out of a hole in his left sock, and his foot grew numb with cold. His face heated again. Something about her made him feel like all his secrets were exposed.

  "Hmm…" All of the businesses had "closed" signs in the windows. Philippe sighed and hoped he wouldn't have to walk all the way to one of those 24-hour places.

  "Got any friends here?" he asked.

  "As a matter of fact, I think I do. Let's see if he still answers his old summons." Maggie walked over to the glass front door of the nearest store. The town must be tiny—none of the shops had bars over the windows. Maggie blew on the glass to fog it, then drew a symbol on it and muttered s
omething in a language Philippe didn't recognize.

  In a moment, a tall gentleman in black appeared and enveloped Maggie in a hug.

  "Margaret, how good of you to come." The man's accent said South. Deep South. "What brings you to Salisbury?"

  "I need a favor, Beauregard. We're on the run, and my friend here is freezing and has lost a shoe."

  "And he's hungry, too, I imagine." The man's gaze pierced Philippe to his marrow, and Philippe shivered harder as the ghost's eyebrows raised.

  Maggie grinned, and Philippe tried to feel as unperturbed as she seemed. "You were always the gentleman."

  "I was, wasn't I?" He smiled, but Philippe shivered harder. Beauregard looked half-ghoul, half-funeral director. "Now that I'm retired, I don't have access to as many resources, but I think I may have something that will do."

  Beauregard led them down the main street, up a hill, and through an old neighborhood in the revitalization process. As with many Southern towns, some of the homes had just been renovated and were inhabited, while others stood empty. Philippe sighed with relief when Beauregard stopped in front of one of the empty ones. He knew he could see his two supernatural guides, but he didn't know if anyone else could.

  Not that it mattered; the entire town was asleep.

  "Isn't this your old house, Beau?" Maggie peered through the diamond panes of the front door. "Very nice. When do the mortals move in?"

  "In two weeks. After the hardwood floors are put in."

  Philippe looked around. Red brick with white columns and a wrap-around porch, the old house whispered to Philippe of hoop skirts and iced tea on the verandah at noon. He could see shadows of its life, ruin, and rebirth in the windows, and his extra way of seeing reminded him of what had drawn him to the magic coffee bag. While he'd always been able to see shadows of the past, his talent had never led him into trouble. Until now. But he also thanked his ability for introducing him to Maggie, who fascinated him more with every word and strange deed.

  The lock snapped back. Beauregard opened the door and gestured with one long, white hand for them to precede him inside. They walked into a front hall with a chandelier and grand staircase. The huge front room, empty except for piles of hardwood flooring, echoed with their footsteps. Philippe was relieved to be enveloped in relatively warm air, and his ears tingled.

  "Are you warming up?" Beau asked Philippe.

  "Yes."

  "Good. I believe the clothing of which I'm thinking is in the attic."

  They climbed the stairs, and Beauregard led them to the left to a narrow door. He opened it, and Philippe sneezed at the musty smell which emanated from the small, unfinished staircase.

  "This leads upstairs, where it is still quite chilly. You may stay here with Margaret, and I'll find some suitable attire for you."

  "I'll come," Maggie volunteered.

  "No, my dear, you would get in the way. I'll only be a moment."

  Philippe and Maggie sat on the top step of the main staircase and looked down over the hall.

  "Are you okay?" Maggie asked him.

  Philippe wished she would take his hand again. "I guess." He looked at her. "Do you trust this guy?"

  Maggie nodded. "Beau and I are old friends."

  "Creepy friend."

  "It's his job. He's a ghost."

  "A house as old as this should have some ghosts," Philippe agreed to counter the defensiveness in her voice.

  She relaxed her shoulders and smiled. "Beauregard was part of my organization, but retired a couple hundred years ago, lived out a mortal life, and decided to stay on as one of the town's haunts."

  "The only haunt of any quality in this area, I might add." Beauregard handed him a long wool coat and a sturdy pair of boots.

  Philippe put them on. They fit perfectly.

  "What about food for our young friend, Margaret?"

  "Of course. Back in a flash." She disappeared, and the light in the hall seemed to dim.

  Philippe looked at Beauregard, who gestured for him to follow and said,"You may spend the night in the attic. With the coat and some blankets, you should be quite comfortable."

  "Didn't you just say it was chilly?"

  "Did I? Why don't you come see for yourself?"

  Beauregard led Philippe up the narrow stairs, which creaked and popped. Philippe's heart pounded, but not from exertion, and he glanced over his shoulder.

  "What is she?" he asked to distract himself from the uneasy tickle in the pit of his stomach.

  "What are you? What am I? We are but a collection of energy, some more dense than others."

  Philippe found a seat on an old chest and looked up at Beauregard.

  "Your feelings for her demonstrate integrity on your part, my young friend."

  "What feelings?"

  Beauregard smiled, his lips stretched thin over his teeth. "Pursuit is futile, you know."

  The wind howled and crept through the gaps in the insulation, and the air crackled with electricity. Philippe shivered. "Not to seem ungrateful, but is there another place I could sleep? It's cold."

  Beau seemed to ignore him. "Have you ever seen what the mortals nowadays call 'thunder-snow?'"

  What did that have to do with anything? Could ghosts get dementia? Something was definitely off about Beauregard. Philippe stood and edged toward the stairs. "No. We mostly get rain where I'm from."

  "It's quite a spectacle. The lightning flashes green because of an abundance of a certain element in the air. I wish I could explain better, but my scientific training ended with Newton."

  Lightning flashed outside, but green instead of white. Beauregard glowed for a few seconds after, like he'd gathered the energy. Philippe wished Maggie would return.

  "You never answered my question," he told Beauregard through chattering teeth.

  "Which one?"

  "Any of them."

  Beauregard moved almost too quickly to see and blocked Philippe from the stairs. "Perhaps you should ask a question that matters."

  Philippe balled his fists but remembered he couldn't punch the ghost, who would probably turn transparent when he tried "Those matter to me."

  "And you matter, young man." Beauregard turned his intense gazed at Philippe. A shot of adrenaline raced through Philippe's body, and he struggled to catch a breath.

  "Why?"

  "That is a good question."

  "That's not a good answer."

  Beauregard moved closer. Philippe backed against the wall.

  "How did you get into the tunnels?"

  "How did you know about that?" His heart pounded at his throat, but he couldn't see an escape route.

  "Knowledge for some is a lifelong quest."

  The next flash of lightning outlined the silver buttons on Beauregard's black coat.

  "But for most, it is a fool's errand because they do not know what they truly seek."

  Icy talons grasped Philippe's left wrist, and he was flung against a burlap bag filled with beans that, when crushed, released a familiar aroma. The same energy as before gathered in the bag, but his entire awareness focused on Beauregard's fangs and forked red tongue, which hovered inches from his jugular vein.

  "Stimulating, isn't it?" Beauregard licked the air by Philippe's ear. "That aroma. I hope you'll forgive me. I like a little blood in my coffee."

  "Stop!" Maggie hurled the fast-food bag she'd carried up the stairs at Beauregard's head. He put up a hand to block it, and Maggie took hold of Philippe's right arm, starting an awkward game of tug-of-war. Philippe clenched his left fist and twisted hard. Beauregard's grip slipped, and with a clap of thunder, Philippe and Maggie stood outside with wet snow on their faces.

  3

  "What the hell was that?" Philippe tried to look into Maggie's eyes, but she dropped her gaze.

  "Betrayal. Lies. And I didn't see them."

  She trembled, and Philippe put his other arm around her and pulled her close into a hug. She stiffened but didn't pull away.

  "I'm so sorry, Philippe
."

  She looked up at him for the first time without her glasses. They lay at her feet as snow filmed over the broken lenses. Her tear-filled eyes glowed golden in the dark. As Philippe looked into them, he saw that she told him the truth. He resisted the smile that tried to curl the corner of his lips. She'd made a mistake; that made her human after all. Well, mostly. And her eyes… An irresistible urge to tell her everything he'd ever done, good and bad, built at the base of his tongue, and he opened his mouth.

  "Don't." She put a hand over his lips. "I don't need to know everything."

  She looked down, and the flood of words stalled. He choked out, "Hey, we all screw up sometimes."

  She shook her head, her hair a veil on either side of her face. "Not like this. I almost handed you right over to them, whoever they are."

  "So sometimes you can't tell who your friends are. It happens."

  "I should be able to tell." She tried to turn away, but he pulled her closer.

  "You should always be right?"

  "I'm the Truth Seeker, Philippe." Her fists hit his chest. "I should know!"

  Philippe recalled how he felt when he realized he couldn't get back home in the tunnels. "Hey," he murmured and tucked a finger under her chin to bring her gaze back to his eyes. "Everyone makes mistakes. And uncertainty makes life interesting."

  "Or frightening," she whispered. This time she didn't resist when he hugged her. She even tucked her hands inside his coat. They stood for a few minutes, and he held her while she cried.

  Maybe Truth Seekers, whatever they were, needed to be taken care of, too. He'd ask her more about what exactly she was when they were someplace warmer.

  "I'm okay now." She pulled back and wiped the tears off her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Philippe wrapped his coat around him to keep the warm spot where she'd been. She bent over to search for her glasses.

  "Who could have turned Beau?" she asked. "He was one of our best."

  "People change."

  "Not Truth Seekers…" She shook her head. "No, it couldn't be."

  "What?"

  "It would have to be someone quite powerful. But her?"