Reapers of the Dark (Cora Roberts #4)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Who you gonna call?

T wo shifters, a witch, a sheriff, and a ghost walk into a bar, and no one bats an eyelid because this is White Castle, where weirdness reigns. They might not explicitly know about the things that howl in the night, but the residents knew it was in their best interest to ignore the unexplainable.

Karen, The Pit’s owner, who hosted everything from speed-dating evenings to this diabolical night of synchronized dancing, greeted us with a scowl and an eye roll from behind the bar. I’d rather face a year of Maggie’s cooking than be here, but for once, I was glad the spooky events weren’t taking place on my grounds. Silver lining and all that.

Hudson’s hand landed on my spine and pushed me deeper into the room of horror, while Karen eyeballed us and pointed to the large wire basket. Oh no.

“You know the rules, Hudson.”

That was telling.

He selected a pink cowboy hat with glittery silver tassels and plonked it on my head, ignoring the death glare I gave him. He selected a traditional tan one for himself and slapped Dave with a black version to match his chief of security’s perpetual dark attire. Robert shook his head and tapped the shiny silver star on his shirt.

“I’m on duty,” he reasoned.

“And you are in my bar on line dancing night. Wear the hat, or leave,” Karen said as she turned to serve a couple of twenty-something-year-old men.

I plucked out a turquoise hat with gold tassels and a rhinestone rim, and placed it on his head.

“The color suits you,” I told him with a smirk.

“For once, I’m grateful I’m a ghost,” Harry said.

We each took a stool on the far side of the bar and waited for the lady in question to take a break from serving the thirsty residents of White Castle.

“We could pass the time on the dancefloor,” Hudson suggested.

I shot him a try it and die look. If he wanted to take his chances with the singletons of White Castle, he could go right on ahead.

He held his hands up. “Fine. Can’t even take my girl out for a dance.”

“You absolutely can, but not here, and not line dancing.”

He flicked one of the silver tassels on my ridiculous hat and grinned. “Fine. We’re going dancing on our next date night.”

I’d just walked right into that.

Karen slammed two shot glasses down between us and poured us a whiskey. “Drink. You’re going to need it.” She probably thought this was the height of weird for us, when really, it was at most a two out of ten. I hadn’t even seen any ghosts floating about, so perhaps whoever it was had passed over.

I threw back the shot. The burn hit my belly, making my face scrunch into a grimace.

“Gary, cover the bar for five,” Karen hollered.

A tall, slim guy with dark hair and a wide smile stepped behind the bar and tipped his white hat at me. “Howdy, beautiful lady. What can I get for you?”

Hudson growled. “Nothing from you.”

I rolled my eyes, slid off my stool, and followed Dave and Robert through the side door and into a small room which doubled as Karen’s office and a storage room. The walls were either painted in the ugliest creamy yellow ever, or had turned that way over time. Either way, a lick of paint would do wonders for the aesthetic.

“So, these are your experts?” Karen asked Robert.

“That’s right.”

I slid a glance at Hudson and then Dave. We looked like a bunch of expert weirdos. Karen was more than aware of the supernatural community, but she hadn’t dealt with me directly before and was probably clueless to the elemental powerhouse in her midst—and that wasn’t even adding in my angel of death daddy. An image of my uncle and father came to mind, and I grinned. Oh, that was definitely happening.

She twisted her battered laptop around, showing us a black and white video of her working the bar.

“It happens at 8:08,” Robert informed us.

I glanced at the clock. There was one minute to go. We all leaned in, including Harry. I squinted, staring at The Pit’s owner’s backside, waiting for her to get felt up by a ghost. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

“There it is,” Dave muttered as we watched a definite dent appear in Karen’s skirt. She jumped around and started shouting at the nearest guy. He held his hands up, slid off the bar stool, and made a prompt exit. Karen glared at him, then glanced up at the camera before stalking out of sight.

“That’s it?” Hudson asked.

I bit my lip. No, it definitely wasn’t it. “Rewind it, please, to two minutes before,” I requested. Dave did so, and I watched again, noting a very odd shadow. It wouldn’t be unusual if it was still, but it was moving, and there was nothing responsible for it.

“You see it?” Harry asked.

I did, which was weird, because ghosts didn’t occupy this dimension, meaning cameras and videos couldn’t record them. “Yeah. I wonder where it is now.”

Harry floated toward the door and stuck his head through the wood. He reappeared with a frown. “I’ll take a sweep through the building and report back,” he promised before zooming off.

“Harry’s checking,” I informed the others.

“Who’s Harry?” Karen asked.

Time to level with her. “My dead vampire ghost side-kick.”

Her mouth opened, hung there, then snapped closed. “Aren’t vampires already dead?” she eventually settled on.

I knew I liked her. “No, but it’s a common misconception.”

Dave replayed the video for the third time. “I don’t get it. What are you seeing?”

I pointed at the shadowy face lurking at the side of the bar, its reflection a haunting image in the mirror behind the bottles of alcohol.

“What is that?” Hudson asked. It shifted and moved toward Karen, then pushed up against her, creating the indent we’d first seen.

Harry burst through the wall. “Pineapples.” Really? We had a pineapple situation now?

Shouts and screams broke through the thin barrier of the wall, and we took off running into the bar. The lights flickered above us, and the music playing in the background created a surreal backdrop to the ensuing chaos.

People rushed for the exits as creepy shadow things chased the line dancing folks of White Castle around. A smaller woman fell, and a tall middle-aged guy scooped her into his arms and hurried toward the doors.

“Someone’s going to die. We have to stop this,” I said.

Hudson rippled next to me, and Dave smacked his chest. “What this situation doesn’t need is a prehistoric tiger causing more hysteria.”

A loud bang sounded out, making me jump and the rest of the room freeze. Part of the ceiling dropped to our feet as Karen, holding a smoking shotgun, shouted, “Everyone, calm the fuck down!”

The scary shadowy things paused and sort of melted to the ground like they’d run out of batteries. No, not batteries—panic. It was like heightened emotions fueled them.

Karen pointed at a couple of ranch owners, big burly fellas who could scare the shit out of people with a single look. “Gary, Mike, open the fire exits and make sure everyone can leave calmly. If anyone tries to push or jump the line, knock them out. Beatrice, man the entrance doors and do the same. The rest of you, walk, don’t run. If someone needs help, you will damn well fucking help them. Everyone stays calm, everyone leaves healthy.”

“But there are things,” a guy shouted. There was a rumbling around the room, and the shadowy entities started vibrating with energy. They were definitely feeding off the panic.

“You live in White Castle, and in doing so, you accept and expect that shit gets weird. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. Nothing is going to hurt you unless you panic, and then I will be the one doing the hurting. So I repeat. Walk, don’t run, and be a decent human being.”

Everyone marched toward the exits, and within five minutes, The Pit was empty. Nobody ran, nobody panicked, and the scary as shit entities scattered around the room waited behind and didn’t follow. I’d never seen anything like it. Nobody else should be able to see them either. These weren’t ordinary ghosts; something was very, very wrong here.

Harry caught my eyes and echoed my thoughts with creepy accuracy. “There’s something wrong with these spirits, Miss Roberts.”

“Now what?” Karen asked. “Because these things have already cost me a ton of money on my most popular night.”

The creepy shadows twisted as if they were facing us, which was a stupid notion, given I couldn’t discern a face.

“Now,” I said, glaring at the spooks, “we call the actual experts. Congrats, Karen, you’ve officially made it in White Castle. Your premises are about to undergo a cleansing.”

“Whoopie fucking doo,” she muttered. “Just clean up the sage when you are done. I hate that shit.”

She spun and stalked off, leaving the three of us blinking after her. Karen, it seemed, was a woman with secrets. I knew I liked her.