Maggie
It’s not an overlycomplicated plan, or even an overly thought-out plan. Simple plans are best. Get in. Distract Marty Zebulund. Search the house. And, though Roe doesn’t know, maybe mess with Zebulund a little. I’m more powerful than ever, closer to the truth and to stopping him. I can taste it.
As far as everyone is concerned, this evening I’m Rachel Bowen, Roe’s assistant and spiritual helper. A heavy bag is slung over my shoulder when we reach the door. Next to me, Roe is the picture of cool but he’s dreading this. I’ll make sure there’s nothing to worry about. This is what I do. Marty Zebulund is going down.
Roe and I stand at the door waiting for an answer, as a doorbell chimes an elaborate melody throughout the house. He’s rigid with tension. I squeeze his hand once and let go.
A woman answers and the one word that comes to mind is cold. Her sharply accentuated cheekbones, pouty lips, and squinting eyes hint at numerous trips under the knife. Her long brown hair is waved perfectly, her makeup is meticulous. There’s no telling her actual age.
“James,” she says, reaching both hands out to him.
A forest-green wool dress flatters her slim figure. Expensive jewelry decorates her neck, fingers, ears… really anywhere you can have jewelry she has it. This is no housekeeper.
“I’m Nancy, Marty’s wife. Lovely to finally meet you.” Her gaze only flicks to me for a fraction of a second.
She’s focused wholly on the hunk of man-meat at my side. Roe is the picture of smooth as he bends to kiss her cheeks.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he says and I fight an eye roll.
Because of a piece I once wrote I know Zebulund is married. I tried to investigate Nancy, but like her husband, information on her was limited. I may not know much about her but I’d love to crack open the brain of someone married to that man. I wait with clasped hands to be introduced.
“You’re as beautiful as I’ve been told,” Roe says.
“Oh, I already like you.”
“This is my assistant, Rachel.” Roe introduces me and I hold out a hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She looks me up and down before stepping back to let us through. “Thank you for coming to help with all this.”
She gives nothing away as to how she feels about the fact that strangers are at her house to have a séance. I nod once with a polite smile. I’m all business.
“Marty should be out in a minute. Just wrapping up a work call.” She gestures toward a heavy wood door, behind which a low voice vibrates out to the house. That must be the office. Thankfully, easy to find. We step into the foyer.
“Can I get either of you anything?”
“No, thank you,” we both say.
“I can start setting the room up if you like?” I address the question between the two of them.
Straight to business. Look, I’m just here as a helper. Pay no attention to me. I’ve styled my hair the same way as his assistant, straightened with clipped-in bangs. I’m wearing fake glasses too. Basically, the Clark Kent version of myself.
“Let me show you to the room.” Nancy leads the way. Her heels click pleasantly on the marble floors.
The house is as massive and showy as you’d expect. Lots of marble and gold. Honestly, it turns my stomach. Think of all the bare backs this house is built on. I keep my head down. We enter a small room at the back of the house. There’s a dartboard on the wall, a small bar, and a poker table.
“The rest of the guys should be here soon. Make yourself at home.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Do you need me for anything?”
I shake my head and get to unpacking the messenger bag. It’s full of random stuff from the holistic shop: candles, sage, crystals, and some other standard mystical paraphernalia.
“James, would you mind giving me a hand with something?” she asks Roe.
It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. She’s been eyeing him up like a tasty morsel since we walked in. When he agrees they leave, closing the door behind them. I go about setting up candles strategically. Places where they will illuminate each person but not me as I creep around the table. Naked body plus open flame equals danger. My back is to the door as I light incense; the sound of the door opening alerts me that they’re back.
“The house will need to be saged as well,” I say matter-of-factly. “Each room.”
“And what does that entail?” Zebulund’s voice freezes me.
