Shifting Shadows: Stories from the World of Mercy Thompson(133)

“Why couldn’t someone else send it on?” I asked.

“Didn’t they teach you anything?” Gary exclaimed, then in a softer voice, he said, “No, I suppose not. The werewolves wouldn’t know, and our dear papa couldn’t be bothered. A ghost, my dear sister, gains power when it is seen. When it is recognized by one of our kind, it gains a firmer hold on the world. There is a reason you shouldn’t speak the name of the dead.”

“I see,” I said. “So how do I get rid of a ghost permanently?”

He sighed. “You don’t read ghost stories, either, do you? You have to find out why it is lingering—confront it and take away its reason for being there. That only works with the ones who are intelligent, though. Convincing them that they really are dead is also supposed to be useful. Most ghosts usually fade away, given time. Why are you asking me about ghosts?”

“Because someone came to me for help.” And I explained the situation to him in a somewhat more condensed version

There was a little pause. “Well, good luck with that, then,” he said doubtfully. “Call me if you get into trouble. Not that I can help you, but maybe I can learn something to pass on to the next walker who calls to ask me for help.”

I think he was teasing, but I wasn’t sure enough to call him on it. “Will do,” I said instead. “It has always been an ambition of mine to serve as an object lesson for others.”

“Nice to have ambitions,” he said. “A ghost that has been following a person around for fourteen years . . . that’s not normal.”

“I do know that,” I told him.

“Might not be a ghost at all,” he said as if thinking aloud. “A witch could do something similar.”

“I’ve thought about that,” I told him. The gruesome talking head was very Hollywood, I thought. Not something I’d ever seen a ghost do. Not that it wasn’t possible, just that I’d never seen it.

“Take backup,” he told me.

“I love you, too,” I told him, and hung up.

As soon as I was off the phone, Lisa asked, “You don’t know how to exorcise a ghost?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never tried it. Most ghosts are harmless, or nearly so. My brother has more experience with that kind of thing.” Like several hundred years more experience. “I thought it was worth a shot.”

“Maybe he could exorcise Rick’s ghost?”

I shook my head regretfully. “He lives three hundred miles away and his job doesn’t let him travel.” Not to Washington, anyway. Not until they quit looking for him as an escaped prisoner.

“Maybe I should look for someone else with more experience,” she said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Okay?”

“I’m not a ghost hunter,” I told her. “You could probably do an Internet search and find a group nearby. If they don’t know how to get rid of a ghost, maybe they’ll know someone who does.”

“Think of the publicity,” murmured Zack. “Ghost hunters investigate famous recluse’s house.”

I stepped on his toe. I feel some obligation to help when people ask me for it—I’m not sure why. But only a little obligation in this case because I didn’t know either of the people involved. If she thought someone else would be better, I wasn’t going to argue with her—especially since she was probably right.

“Do you mind coming out and taking a look?” she said. “I think Rick has probably had enough publicity for a lifetime. If you can’t do anything, maybe we’ll try someone else.”

I looked at my garage. “It doesn’t appear as though I have anything better to do.”

I called Adam to let him know what we were doing, but his phone bumped me to another one.

“Hauptman Security,” said one of Adam’s minions.

“This is Mercy,” I said.

He cleared his throat. “Okay. Okay. I have a message for you if you called. Here it is: ‘Duty calls. Someone broke into a warehouse we have under contract. Cops came but it looks like burglar has a hostage. They need someone familiar with the layout, so I’m headed out. Call you when it’s over. Not dangerous.’”

I waited, but apparently that was it. “Okay,” I said. “Tell Adam I’ve gone ghost hunting. I’m taking Zack, and we’ll be back tonight. Not dangerous.” I hesitated. “Okay. Probably not dangerous, but he knows how these things go with me.”

“Address? Boss will want an address.”

I looked at Lisa. “Where are we going?”

Her lips thinned.

“My husband runs a security firm. They can keep secrets.”

“Your husband the werewolf.”

“That’s the one.”

She gave me the address. I told Adam’s man what it was and we all headed out: Lisa in her Tahoe and Zack and I in my Vanagon.

•   •   •

Prosser, like the Tri-Cities, is in a region of wine country that started out as orchard country. We took the highway on the north side of the Yakima River instead of the interstate on the south and it weaved along the river’s path through hobby farms and ranches that increased for a minute in density to become the town of Whitstran before thinning out again into countryside.