Part 22 (1/2)

The condemnation lay heavily on me, but there was nothing I could do to deny it. ”Yeah. Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?” I said, forcing down a painful lump in my throat as I left the room to check on my father.

”You're sure they won't break anything?”

I closed the door gently on the sound of imps cooing with happiness as they splashed around in a couple of inches of water in the bathtub, and smiled at the worried look on Adam's face. ”They're not that sort of imp. They get into things and sometimes make a mess, but they aren't destructive. Besides, they love water. They'll be quite happy to play in the tub for a couple of hours, especially since Jules donated his devil ducky.”

Adam gave me a long look. ”You are one of the oddest people it's been my pleasure to meet.”

”Thank you. I think. Shall we tackle Meredith again? Dad is Pixie-watching for me.”

Adam waited for me to precede him up the stairs. ”Does she need a babysitter?”

”Not in the normal sense of the word, no. But I don't want her disappearing again.” I stopped in front of the door to Meredith's room and took a deep breath. ”Do you want to be the good cop or the bad cop?”

”Don't be ridiculous; we don't do that anymore.” Adam gave a couple of curt knocks and tried the door handle. ”Dammit, he's locked it. Meredith?

Open up. We want to talk to you.”

It took a minute, but at last Meredith opened the door a smidgen. ”Where the h.e.l.l's my wife with my breakfast?”

”She's a bit busy now,” I told him. ”If you're absolutely starving, I suppose something could be brought up for you.”

The look he gave me could have stripped paint. ”And be poisoned again?

No, thank you. Tell Savannah to get off her a.s.s and bring me some food. Some safe food.”

”I don't think your wife is inclined to do you any favors,” Adam told him.

”I believe her words were 'Let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d suffer,' weren't they, Karma?”

”Yup. It would seem she has washed her hands of you.”

Meredith swore with colorful, if impossible, creativity. ”That stupid b.i.t.c.h.

Parading around like her s.h.i.+t don't stink, demanding money from me all the time for her crackpot schemes, telling me how she's going to use those d.a.m.ned machines to get what's rightfully hers. You want to know what's rightfully hers?

Jack s.h.i.+t, that's what!” Meredith shoved his enraged face toward us, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. The whiskey on his stale breath made my nose wrinkle. ”She'd have nothing without me, nothing! Those machines are worthless without me. And you can tell her that!”

The door slammed in our faces before Adam and I had time to do more than blink in confusion.

”Machines?” Adam asked.

”What's rightfully hers, I wonder?” I said at the same time.

He pursed his lips for a moment. ”I think we need to have another talk with Madam Savannah.”

”I think you're absolutely right.”

18.

We arrived at the dining room, which was now bare of breakfast, to find the table covered in papers.

”...and keep my mind a blank. I'm totally unaware of what my hand is writing. As you can see, I don't even have my eyes open,” Savannah was saying to an audience that consisted of my father, Pixie, and the two spirits. ”Now, dear, if you would just replace the paper...perfect. That way, you see, my hand can continue to write without stopping.”

Pixie looked from the piece of paper she held to the others littering the table. They contained nothing but random loops and waves. ”What's it mean?”

”Not every page shows actual writing. Sometimes it takes a bit to get to a communication from a spirit. We can help it by asking specific questions, but in a situation such as this, I prefer to just let whatever ent.i.ty who wishes to make contact do so without pressure. So I just keep my mind blank, and let my hand move as it will.”

”I thought with the house sealed, no spirits could get through to anyone here,” Pixie said, pulling another sheet of gibberish from Savannah as she reached the end of the page.

I picked up a couple of the topmost sheets of paper. As I'd suspected, there was no communication on those, either, only random waves and swoops.

”That's true, but as we found out with the seance, there are dormant spirits in the house. Who knows what else may be residing here? And I have high hopes that we'll make contact again with Spider.”

”If you wake my grandfather up again...,” Adam said warningly.

”I can't control who uses me at all,” Savannah murmured, her eyes closed as she swayed ever so slightly with the movement of her hand over the sheet of paper. ”I'm a blank ma.n.u.script, waiting to be written.”

”Sounds stupid,” Pixie muttered.

Tony suddenly sat up straight. ”Oh, my dear, no! It works, it really does!

One of Adam's old girlfriends tried it with us that time we went underground- When was that, Julie?”

”The 1950s,” Jules answered with a shudder. Both ghosts were barely visible, in what I thought of as a low-watt mode.

”Those shoulder pads!” Tony answered with a similar shudder before pulling himself to the present. ”That was such a grim time, Julie and I thought we'd take a little rest, only somehow, we forgot to tell Adam. So his girlfriend, a really lovely woman once you got past the fact that she was a Moravian, did some automatic writing to contact us.”

Jules cackled to himself. ”She was ever so startled when she woke up Tony and he started dictating the most risque limericks. What was it, now?”

”There was a young man from Perth, whose cods were the finest on Earth-,” Tony started to recite.

”I think that's enough of a trip down memory lane,” Adam interrupted with a glance toward Pixie. ”Karma and I would like to have a word with Savannah, if you don't mind. Alone.”

”We want to see who comes through,” Tony protested. ”This is the most excitement we've had for years!”

”I don't care. Go rest up. We may need you later,” Adam said, making shooing motions with his hands.

I turned to my father and c.o.c.ked an eyebrow.

He heaved a martyred sigh and pushed himself up from the table, holding out a hand for Pixie. ”Looks like we're de trop, my girl. Shall we go check on the imps?”

”I am not a child! I don't have to be gotten out of the way!” she said with an indignant look tossed in my direction.

”Of course you're not. But there are times when three is company, and seven is a crowd.”

”Lame excuse. What's a Moravian?”