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“Really?” I asked. It was almost eleven in the morning; I’d gone home and slept for about three hours, then gotten jarred out of sleep at nine-thirty when Archie stalked into my room and inquired in caustic tones whether I intended to feed him at all that day. Probably I should have dumped some food into his bowl when I got back to the apartment, but I’d been so tired that I’d gone straight to my room and basically face-planted in bed. I hadn’t heard anything from my mother yet, and was still trying to figure out whether that was a good thing or not. I added, “Sedona is kind of a drive, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” Mazey replied. “But Brant is very keen on anything demonic.”
“I’m not sure this is demonic,” I said, trying to stifle a yawn. Obviously, the half a pot of mocha java I’d downed after finally rolling out of bed wasn’t doing much to keep the weariness at bay. “Honestly, I’m not sure what it is.”
“Well, that’s why I think Brant would be perfect for the job,” Mazey responded. “He has a very good sense for these things. I think he actually went to seminary and was planning to be a priest, but he decided the psychic world had more to offer him.”
That piece of information sounded promising. After all, if something unholy had taken up residence in my mother and Tom’s gorgeous Victorian house, a lapsed seminarian was probably a better person to handle it than a garden-variety hedgewitch.
Mazey gave me Brant Thoreau’s contact information, both phone number and email. I thanked her and hung up, then looked down at the notations I’d just made on the little jotter I kept on my desk.
It was a Sunday. I thought that an email might be a little less intrusive than a phone call, so I opened up my laptop and started to compose a note, wondering as I did so whether I should wait to hear from my mother as to how it had gone with the building inspector.
I’d barely typed, Hello, Brant, before my phone rang.
The number on the home screen was my mother’s.
I immediately scooped it up. “Hi, Mom. What’s the news?”
“There is no news,” she replied, sounding tired and dispirited. “Or at least, nothing that Mr. Loomis was able to find. He apologized for missing the roof leak and gave us the number of a local roofer, and said he’d cover the cost of the repairs, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else wrong with the house.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I was. The situation would have been so much easier if it had turned out that there really were a bunch of loose pipes banging around in the walls. Or even a rat infestation, although I knew better than to say such a thing to my mother. “But my friend Mazey gave me the contact info for someone who might be able to help. I was just about to email him.”
“Oh, then, that’s good news.” Already she sounded much more chipper than when I’d picked up the phone. “I’ll cross my fingers. In the meantime, though, Tom and I are going to go exploring. We figured it couldn’t hurt to get out of the house for a bit, although it’s been dead quiet all morning.”
That was another piece of welcome information, even if I winced a bit at the phrase “dead quiet.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes with Mr. Thoreau,” I told her.
“And you need to let me know when we can take you and Calvin out for dinner.”
“Maybe after things have settled down a bit.”
“No,” she said, and although I could tell from her voice that she was probably smiling, there was a hint of steel to her tone, indicating she wasn’t going to let me wriggle out of a family dinner. “I don’t see any point in waiting. Give him a call and see when he’s available.”
“All right,” I replied. “Actually, we were going to meet for lunch today at one, so I’ll talk to him then.”
“Perfect. Give me a call when you hear from this Mr. Thoreau.”
“I will.”
She hung up then, and I set down the phone and looked over at my laptop, which had shifted over to a screensaver while I was talking with my mother. I touched the keyboard, and the email I’d been about to start composing reappeared on the screen.
Trying not to sigh, I began to type.
Hello, Brant. Mazey Hoskins gave me your number. I’ve just encountered a very unusual situation….
5
Exit the Dragon
Brant Thoreau’s reply to me had been very measured, very polite, and so I had to admit I was a little startled by the apparition that showed up on the Bigelow mansion’s doorstep the next day.
He was very tall, taller even than Calvin’s impressive six feet and four inches. Unlike Calvin, Brant was almost painfully thin, with bleached white hair that stuck out in spikes, a nose ring, and tattoos encircling his throat and arms. A silky kimono embroidered with dragons billowed over slouchy black linen pants and a black tank top, and black flip-flops adorned feet that had black-painted toenails.
After a single blink, though, I recovered myself and extended a hand. “Hi, Brant,” I said. “I’m Selena, and this is Tom and Elizabeth.”
They were both staring at him, expressions owlish. Since I was used to the more flamboyant members of the psychic community and their sartorial expressions, I’d bounced back a little more quickly.
