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In the parking lot, Ivan tossed the keys to Ben. “You drive. I have a call to make.”
It didn’t take him long to trace a number for the address Nicolas had given. With a bit of luck, he’d even be able to convince the medium by phone to reverse the process. That way, he could get back to Alice sooner.
The ringtone sounded for a long time before a woman with a hoarse voice picked up. “Who is this?”
“Melissa May?”
Fear vibrated in her tone. “Where did you get my number?”
“You’ve sent hundreds of spirits my way.”
Ben looked at him like he’d lost his very last marble.
“W-who are you?” Melissa asked.
“Someone like you. It’s got to stop. You have to send them back. They don’t belong here.”
“I can’t speak to you.”
“We have hundreds of dead people hanging around, and they can’t go back of their own accord. They’re suffering. I can’t manipulate them as long as you hold the port. All I’m asking is that you send them home. Please,” he begged. “I’m going nuts here.”
“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who gave you my name?”
“Did you channel a spirit called Boris?”
There was a long silence.
“You’re fucking nuts,” Ben said.
“Shut up,” Ivan whispered. “Melissa, are you there? I need to stop a spirit named Boris. He’s meaning harm to me and someone I … I care about. If you wait too long, he’ll gain his freedom, and you won’t be able to control him, any longer.”
There was a soft sob. “It’s too late.”
“What do you mean it’s too late?”
“I can’t close the portal.”
“You what?” He sat up straight. “You mean it’s open? You left it fucking open?”
“I’m not that powerful, all right?” She started crying. “I opened it but couldn’t close it.”
He gripped his hair. “Sweet Jesus. You left a portal open? How many souls have filtered through?”
“I don’t know.” She sniffed. “He made me do it. At first it was the money. When I realized what he wanted, I said I couldn’t, but he was going to kill me.” She cried harder. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Who’s he? Who made you do it?”
“I can’t say.”
“Was it Godfrey?”
Her breath caught on a hitch. “Don’t call here, again.”
“Don’t hang up. I—”
The line went dead.
“Fuck!” Ivan flung the phone on the dash. It hopped once and hit the windshield before dropping in his lap.
“Ivan?” Ben said, giving him a concerned glance.
“Just drive. Gainsford Street.”
They were cruising along the one minute, and the next, Ben threw a handbrake turn, pointing them a hundred and eighty degrees in the opposite direction. The momentum flung Ivan’s body sideways. Only his seatbelt prevented him from landing on Ben’s lap.
“What the hell?”
“Sorry,” Ben said, “but I’m doing this for your own good.”
Before Ben had time to react, Ivan snatched the pistol from Ben’s body holster and pressed it against his head.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Ivan gritted out, “but you’re going to do as I say.”
Ben’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. His back was so rigid it looked ready to snap.
“Turn around,” Ivan said.
They did another hundred and eighty degree turn, inviting middle fingers and honking from passing drivers.
Ivan pushed the pistol harder against Ben’s temple. “Faster.”
Ben obliged with a tight face. They didn’t say a word for the rest of the way. It took them twenty minutes to make it to the address, which was a luxury apartment on the revamped Butler’s Warf. Ben parked on the curb. It had started raining. Ivan looked up at the building through the windshield.
“Stay,” he said, keeping the gun pointed at Ben.
Ben gave an obstinate shake of his head. “I’m coming with you.”
“Are you going to behave?”
“Do I have a choice?” he spat out.
Ivan got out, slipped the gun into his waistband, and pulled the hood of his sweater over his head. Together, they made their way up two flights of stairs and stopped at the door with the number Nicolas had given him.
Ivan knocked twice. When there was no answer, he rapped his knuckles on the wood again, harder this time. Still no answer. She was hiding.
He took the gun from his waistband and pointed it at the door. “Stand back, Ben.”
“What are you doing?” Ben whispered urgently. “This is forced entry.”
“Shut up or go home.”
One firm kick and the wood splintered and the lock broke. The door gave. Ben tried to pull him back, but Ivan shook off the touch. He entered the dark loft. He felt for a switch on the wall and flipped it, but the power was down.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Give me a light.”
Ben switched on the light on his phone, pointing it around the spacious room. A smell of incense mixed with fried food filled the interior. Ben paused the light on an object dangling from the ceiling. A woman hung by her neck from a rope, her body marred with cuts. There was blood all over her and the floor below.
