“Louisa Bowman. Big deal, especially with rich people who’d drive up from LA and pay a load of money to listen to her spooky knocks and chilly breezes,” I said. “When her assistant got sick of being underpaid, he went public, showing how she did all of her tricks. Even got featured in a few papers. Her wealthy clients dried up, and she lost everything.”
King was writing down the details, and I took a peek. Even his handwriting was perfect, neat letters that fit on the lines. He wasn’t joking when he said that his teachers had liked him.
“A couple years after her downfall, she comes out with a big announcement that she’s got real ghosts and for a select price, you could see them, too,” I said. “But at that point, most of her clients had moved on from spiritualism and she died not long after. Broke, alone, bitter. The perfect recipe for a really pissed off ghost.”
“So what do you think?” King asked. “These other… things are people who died in the house after her?”
I gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. Maybe he was open to the idea of real life ghosts now, but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to call them that.
“I think that maybe Bowman did summon some ghosts. And I think when she got called back, they did, too,” I said. “I’d bet that she accidentally linked their spirits somehow. If you don’t know what you’re doing, witchcraft can be deadly.”
The lights flickered, but our ghosts didn’t return. I glanced towards the living room and made a face. Even the expensive glass ornament decorations looked ominous now. How much would one of those hurt if it was pitched at my head fast enough?
“Shouldn’t we have starved them, too, if we put her bones in your spell?” King said.
I shrugged, my shoulder rubbing against his as I exaggerated the motion. “Maybe? I’ve got no idea how she arranged the spell.”
“Okay, okay,” King said. “So, we need to go looking for clues.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, joylessly. “Clues.”
Five
King looked at me, and I gave him the sort of look that said what I thought of his promise to protect and serve. He pursed his lips in annoyance.
“Do we knowanythingelse that will hurt these things?” he said.
“These ghosts?” I said. “These poltergeists? These beings from beyond the veil? The afterlife?”
“These things,” he said. “Which may or may not be ghosts. Or they could be the remnants of a spell gone awry.”
“I mean, salt,” I said. “Iron, probably.”
I pulled out the book, but it hadn’t changed since the first time I’d skimmed it: specific on killing, vague on the how-to. Laurel had said that it wasn’t her specialty, and that there were people who specialized in getting rid of ghosts. Her opinion was that my client, Mr. I Was the Top Rated Rental of 2019, What Are These One Star Reviews, wanted a bargain basement ghost hunter.
Seeing these ghosts, I did feel like I’d bitten off a little more than I could chew with this one. Maybe I’d charge him double. If he didn’t sue me into next year for all the water damage I’d left in the attic.
King was reading over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t very helpful.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know any alchemy texts that would be better,” I muttered. “The fire poker is maybe iron?”
Not that I wanted to test it in front of him. Iron and me don’t mix. I don’t burn if I touch it, but it isn’t good either.
“Are we ok to leave the circle?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I mean, do we have a choice?”
With a sharp nod, he took a quick step out of the circle and over to the fireplace. He picked up the fire poker and the shovel for good measure, although that one looked like it was about as flimsy as something could get. I took out the canister of salt.
While King examined his weapons, I looked towards the attic. I could feel the salt still flowing upwards from the water softener and pooling in the attic. It was dripping down the stairs we’d left open, a slurry of salt and liquid that none of the ghosts could cross.
Oh. I had an idea, but it would take work and the assumption that King knew as much about witchcraft as I knew about alchemy.
“The rain,” I said.
He squinted at me, and I realized that he couldn’t hear me through his spell. Bracing myself, I left the circle and came close to where he was standing.
“The rain,” I repeated. “I know a spell that might be able to make it a weapon.”
