Chapter Twenty-eight
IN the octagon creep show toy room, the kamikaze kittens went berserk.
Caramello hissed, hopped into the doll carriage, and bounced out, as if she’d been thrown.
The scent of candy apples wafted in as Warlock circled the wooden soldiers like a Halloween cat, black back arched and ready for battle. He charged and hit a soldier in the chest. It toppled like a bowling pin and took out the entire regiment in an artistic butterfly-wing domino effect.
The room rained bayonets. The girls screamed and the cats howled, but no splinters were reported.
Gingertigger launched herself to the top of the jack-in-the-box, but the music started, and the lid popped open, so Harmony’s mewling kitten slid gracefully to the floor.
While Harmony used a broom to sweep away evil, Destiny distributed and lit black candles, and Storm sprinkled salt and herbs around the perimeters of the room. While they prepared their cleansing ritual, the cats hissed, charged, and assaulted every toy. Caramello rode the rocking horse, Warlock the tricycle.
Sometimes the toys went flying. Sometimes, the cats flew.
After Harmony performed the water blessing, she lit a smudge stick and held it as they circled the room, the three of them chanting.
 
“Mother Goddess, hear our prayer.
With earth, fire, water, and air,
Amethyst crystals bright and rare,
Candles black and incense flare,
The power of three as one declare
All negative energy to beware.
Finite peace this place ensnare.
And it harm none; this will we bear.
So mote it be, hear our prayer.”
 
By the third circle, the cats’ hissing and bouncing slowed, and eventually they calmed and curled up together to sleep.
“We’ve done our job,” Harmony said, “if there’s nothing here to keep the psycho cats hopping.”
“That was more exhausting than sex,” Storm said.
“We’ve hardly started, though this is one of the darkest rooms. Next stop, the formal parlor.”
In the parlor, her sisters sensed Gussie’s lingering spirit, as Harmony had done, but they also sensed Paxton’s return, so they slipped behind the small tapestry.
“Hellcat,” Paxton said. “Thank God you’re all right. Reggie said you saved their lives.”
“She’s exaggerating. I pushed a bed over to break her fall.”
“Which was brilliant. Reggie thinks Gussie hates her and likes Jake.”
“She’s right. I sensed that Reggie would have broken her back if she hit that floor.”
“What do you mean, you sensed?”
Damn, damn, damn. “I get a sense about things, like when you’re coming around the corner, things like that.”
“I sense that about you, too,” he said. “It’s called—”
“Passion?” she suggested to turn his thoughts.
“Too partner-focused, plus it requires a short-term commitment.”
Harmony shook her head. “Big news. Lust then?”
“Too intimate. Scary intimate.”
“Sex, then?”
“Okay. Where?”
“You’re a horn dog letch.”
“Stop it, you’re turning me on.” He focused on her shirt. “I’m a Witch with PMS. Any Questions? Part of me wants to run,” he said, “but the part that’s missed you—”
“Gotta go ghost-hunt.” She waved him off. “Bye.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“Better I should than the wailer.”
King slipped his hands in his pockets. “Right. Bye.”
Harmony got the telepathic message that her sisters had found a second door behind the tapestry and were exploring and circling back, so she went to the tunnel where she could concentrate on neutralizing Gussie and nobody could waylay or distract her.
By the time she returned to the parlor, she had to stop outside the door, because Storm had walked in on Aiden boxing the chandelier.
“Gonna pawn it for a jock strap?” Storm asked, and Harmony wilted against the wall.
“A witch with PMS?” Aiden said. “I have an awesome cure for PMS. Are you still up for that date?”
Harmony felt Storm’s radar go up. “I’m up for a ride on your . . . Harley.” She raised her arms and fluffed her wig to show off her breasts.
Harmony was gonna commit triplicide. Aiden thought she was coming on to him, slam it.
“What about you and King?”
Storm stilled and lowered her arms. Now, she remembered who she was supposed to be. “King and me?” Storm backed away. “King’s got No Commitment engraved on his pecker.”
Aiden raised a brow. “I’m not much better . . . at commitments , that is. Are you looking for companionship and a good . . . Harley ride, or a husband?”
“Oh, always a good . . . ride.”
Harmony coughed.
“But I don’t sleep around,” Storm said, too fast to be sane.
“Since you’re sharing King’s ‘Harley’ these days,” Aiden said. “I guess we’ll have dinner but nothing more?”
“I . . . guess. Do you hear a baby crying?” Storm asked him.
Aiden frowned. “No.”
Storm backed away from him to the opposite end of the large room and started back toward him. “Hey, the crying baby is loudest when I’m near you. Do you have children?”
Aiden barked a laugh. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Get rid of him,” Harmony telepathically ordered, but Storm had turned and zeroed in on the full tapestried wall exuding Gussie’s energy. “Can you get someone to take down that large tapestry and bring in a couple of spotlights to shine on the wall behind it? I need to take a better look.”
Aiden taped the chandelier box closed. “There’s nothing there.”
“I think you’re wrong. You restore antiques, right? Have a look. A hundred years of crud needs to come off, so we—so I can see what’s beneath it.”
“Really?” Aiden pulled the tapestry aside. “What do you think is back here? A crying baby?”
“No, but it’s more than a wall.”
“And you’re more than a vintage clothing buyer.” He winked. “I’ll take care of it.”
Harmony made sure Aiden was gone before she went in and cuffed her sister.
“Sorry,” Storm said, rubbing her arm. “I was really attracted.”
“Brutally so, and when the hell are you not?”
“This guy’s a whole different brand of stud, in a weird, good, badass way. Being near him gave me snapshots of . . . I don’t know; I couldn’t identify the pictures, but I swear to the Oak King that I heard a baby crying.”
“You’ll forgive us if we don’t hop to it every time you hear a baby cry,” Harmony said. “Unless you think Aiden is maybe married?”
“No,” Storm said. “That’s not it. But I was right about Jake crying in the boat on the way here.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one, but stop trying to hop on Aiden’s ‘Harley.’ He thinks you’re me.”
Destiny joined them. “Way to pretend to be your lovesick sister, kid.”
Harmony frowned. “I’m not lovesick.”
Storm took exception as well. “I would have jump-started the stud, if I was me.”
“Big surprise.” Harmony crossed her arms. “Let’s do what we came to do, shall we? Concentrate on that wall.”
Destiny touched her arm. “I just met Paxton in the hall. Yummers.”
“Oh, oh. What happened?”
“He said I wasn’t myself.”
“I saw him, too,” Storm said. “He looked puzzled.”
“Did he try to cop a feel either time?”
“No, damn it,” they said together.
“Oh joy. He suspects something. We’re running out of time. He’s on to us. Concentrate on the wall.” Holding hands, they walked toward it, three by three, each focusing on the single place in the castle where a lively blaze of Gussie’s spirit lingered.
While they did, their kittens played a hissing, head-butting, tumbling game with the tapestry and the wall itself.
She and her sisters formed a circle, but Harmony chanted alone.
 
“I received your past
To bear in the present.
Now open the door,
That leads to the future.
And it harm none; this is my will.
So mote it be.”
 
She repeated the chant twice more before Storm broke the circle so they faced the wall, though they continued holding hands. “There’s a painting,” Storm said, “behind the tapestry, beneath the layers of premeditated grime.”
Destiny nodded. “It’s a story we need to know.”
“Gussie’s the painter. She was happy when she started,” Harmony said, “and broken when she finished. You’re right, Storm. She tried to cover it up.”
“She wants us to see it, now,” Destiny said. “And when we do, we’ll understand.”
Storm closed her eyes. “I’m sensing forgiveness, but I don’t think it’s from Gussie. Is there more than one ghost here?”
“Well, there’s more than one of something,” Aiden said, “or I’m hallucinating.”
“Don’t bet on it,” King said.
The girls froze.