Out of Mind

Chapter 12

“We won’t open at all until I know where Willow is,” Pascal declared. He paced back and forth between a display of Meissen china and cases of Victorian jewelry. “She’s not answering her phone, and she always does. How could she have gone without you knowing, Marley?”

The faint tinkle of low-hanging crystal chandeliers usually pleased Marley. This morning it set her teeth on edge. “I don’t interfere with Willow’s life,” she said. “Unlike some, I stick to the rules—completely.”

Uncle Pascal had been known to bend those rules and show up in the mind of a family member at the most inconvenient times.

“It’s my job to look after all of you,” he thundered. “If I have ever seemed to step beyond our written code, it has been to protect one of you.” His head shone and he smelled of a subtle aftershave. His energy in the morning exhausted Marley.

“Pascal,” Gray said.

Marley looked up at her husband and smothered a grin. His attempt to be serious in the face of Pascal’s famous temper was a miserable failure.

“Go on, go on,” Pascal said, gesturing with one hand. “What do you want, Gray? But I warn you, it had better be something useful.”

“I was only going to mention that it’s early and she may not be up.”

“Not up? Not up, you say? I told you she didn’t answer her phone—not her cell, either—and the office is still switched over to the service. Willow is my most industrious and dependable niece. She is out and about her business first thing. But she doesn’t leave without… My dear niece comes to tell me to look after myself every day. Every day—do you hear me? She never leaves without making sure her old uncle is still alive and kicking.”

That was too much for Gray. He laughed. Not just a quick chuckle, but a laugh that had him squeezing Marley’s arm and doubling over. She couldn’t be certain what amused him most: that Willow, whom Pascal constantly told off for not admitting her psychic gifts, was suddenly a saint, or that glowingly healthy and youthful Pascal would feign infirmity.

She had to smile. “Uncle, you’re the fittest of the lot of us. You pump iron every day—Anthony sees to that.” Pascal’s trainer made sure his only client was in perfect shape. “And if you’d ever tell us how old you are, I bet it’s not a day over fifty.”

“Are you suggesting I look fifty?” Pascal said, glowering.

Translucent, Sykes wafted into Marley’s sight. She saw his faintly glowing shadow shape hovering behind Pascal, and she saw her brother’s most wicked smile. She tried not to look at him.

“Can we get back to the topic of Willow?” Sykes said, materializing completely.

Marley felt Gray jump, as he inevitably did when Sykes “appeared.” Unlike Marley, Gray didn’t see Sykes when he was in his coasting state, as he called it.

“I take it we’ve all seen the news this morning?” Sykes said. “That’s why you’re all here with the shop door locked and talking about not opening up? It’s too early to open anyway.”

“It’s almost nine and Willow hasn’t appeared yet,” Pascal said. “She is always here by eight. Something’s happened to her.”

“How do you know?” Gray said—unwisely, Marley thought.

“I know,” Pascal said.

“He does,” Marley said. And so did she, although she didn’t intuit injury to her younger sister.

“He knows,” Sykes said. “But you could be fair, Uncle, and admit it was the news that tipped you off.”

Sykes was fearless. Marley had always known this, but sometimes she wished he wouldn’t bait Uncle Pascal. “I haven’t seen the news,” she said and looked at Gray. He shook his head, no. Looking at Gray early in the morning when his hair refused to lie down, he hadn’t had time to shave and he kept giving her “come back to bed” glances, was almost Marley’s favorite thing.

“What news?” Pascal said.

Sykes, his black hair even longer than usual, raised one winged eyebrow. “Why are you and Gray down here, Marley?”

“Pascal asked us to come down,” Gray said. He was giving Marley that look again.

“Where’s Winnie?” Sykes asked.

“Sulking,” Marley said. “She went out in the courtyard early.”

“Woke me up,” Gray said, although he didn’t sound upset about it.

“Willow must have kicked her out earlier than she wanted to leave. So she’s grumpy about it. She always goes to Willow early in the morning.”

“Yep,” Gray said. “But she came back… What time was that?”

“Almost seven,” Marley said, putting an arm around his waist. They both shivered.

“So if she was with Willow, that would be when Willow left,” Gray said. “Mystery solved. Willow went to work extra early. Now can we go back to bed?”

Marley didn’t look at him.

“It’s almost nine,” Pascal said. “Of course you can’t go back to bed. Don’t you writers have anything to do?”

“Absolutely,” Gray said with an innocent smile.

“I bet she left early,” Sykes said. “With pictures of a Mean ’n Green van outside that dance hall where the woman died all over the place, poor Willow’s probably been arrested by now.”

Marley stared at him. Her connection to Willow was improving steadily as Willow grew more aware of her powers. Marley cast about, trying to pick up a lead on her sister, but found nothing.

“What dance hall?” Gray said.

“The woman lived in an apartment over the dance hall, not in the dance hall. It’s on South Rampart.”

“Willow’s got a client there,” Marley said. “She’s mentioned her…because she’s difficult.”

Sykes became very still.

“What is it?” Pascal snapped. He rubbed his face. “Sykes?”

“I was looking for Ben,” Sykes said.

“I know that,” Pascal said. “I thought you might be.”

Sykes wagged a long finger. “You’re at it again, Uncle, poking around where you shouldn’t. I always know, but I let you get on with it as long as you don’t interrupt something private.”

“You shut me out all the time,” Pascal said, raising his chin. “If I get in it’s because you’ve forgotten your guard—not that it lasts long. Where is Ben—I thought he was in your flat?”

“He isn’t there now,” Sykes said. “Wherever he is, he’s totally shut down.”

“Mmm,” Pascal said, wrinkling his nose. “Willow’s gone and Ben’s gone. At the same time.” He glanced around, obviously not wanting to be the one to suggest Ben and Willow could be together.

“Listen up,” Sykes said. “And keep quiet for long enough for me to tell you what’s going on with Willow.”

He talked rapidly, shushing Pascal’s interruptions every few sentences. Marley only became more amazed—and frightened for Willow—as the story expanded.

“Two murders and Willow’s being connected to both of them?” Gray said.

“No,” Pascal said, shaking his head. “There’s a lot going on with Willow, but it’s nothing to do with any murders. Willow was in the wrong place at the wrong time yesterday. We already know she left Billy Baker’s shop before anything happened to him.”

“But she was there right around the time he died,” Sykes said. “And her guy, Chris, was seen outside the dead woman’s place last night.”

“Willow’s sure she’s being stalked,” Marley said.

They fell silent.

“Ben’s on dangerous ground with Willow.” Sykes made direct contact with Marley without looking at her.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s playing with time. He moved her from that party last night and she may not be up to it. It could damage her.”

Marley crossed her arms tightly. She was already feeling as if she could be getting the flu. Now her head thumped and goose bumps popped out on her arms and legs. “I don’t understand. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe you’re dramatizing.”

“Dramatizing,” Sykes said. “You know I don’t mess around when my family’s health is at stake. He admitted to me that he moved her last night. Through the same moment, very rapidly. He’s intended to tolerate that. What if Willow isn’t?”

Gray had a vacant expression, which meant he knew Marley was communicating with someone else. He probably figured it was Sykes and would wait for her to tell him what she thought necessary. There was no doubt that in Gray she had found her true Bonded partner. He was an incredibly strong man, but also accepting of the elements that made them different from each other.

“Marley?” Sykes prompted.

“We need to find them. Discussing something like this with Willow won’t be easy. She’s likely to pretend she doesn’t believe a word we say.”

“As soon as we can, we’ll get to Ben first. I think he’s avoiding facing up to taking a risk with Willow. Careful, Pascal’s trying to get in.”

Pascal glared at Marley, and she said, “Anyone got any ideas what the storm in those people’s—the Brandts—gardens while Willow was there could have to do with anything?”

A chorus of “No” came back.

“Right,” Gray said. “I know my miserable little powers are an embarrassment to the family, but let me try one of them out, huh?” He produced his cell phone and flourished it like a magic prop. Then he punched in a contact.

“Who is he calling?” Pascal said. “I told him Willow isn’t answering.”

“Neither is Ben,” Sykes said, although Marley doubted her brother relied on technology a whole lot.

“Morning, Nat,” Gray said, ignoring the questioning looks around him. “This case is expanding fast.” He listened for a while. “That’s why I called. I wondered if Willow—if they could have come to see you. No, they aren’t here yet. How long ago did you see them? They could have stopped for breakfast. Did you call them both in…? Ben just showed up with her and their red dog? They called him Mario? Okay, we’ll expect them back then.”

He flipped his cell shut.

“Dog?” Sykes said. “What dog?”

Pascal paused in the act of opening a glass case of hair jewelry. “A dog called Mario?” he said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Their red dog, is what Nat said. Called Mario.”