Delilah Devlin - Lost Souls

The old man’s glance was sharper than she expected, nearly making her take a step backward.

“Damn curiosity seekers. It’s all your fault. Letting that film crew up there. Staging that ridiculous display. It’s all over the Internet.”

Cait’s stomach dropped, wondering whether the crew had posted everything they had. She was particularly worried about the part where she appeared to be talking to herself. Leland wouldn’t be pleased because then he’d have to defend his decision to hire a crazy person.

Sam’s hand touched the small of her back, and he ushered her forward. “We’ll get back with you before we leave. Give you an estimate of how much longer we’ll be.”

“You do that,” Mr. Lewis called after them. “But don’t be surprised if the plug gets pulled for you.”

In the elevator, Sam shot her a glare. “Leland’s going to put that all on you.”

For a split second, Cait closed her eyes. “Don’t forget, you were there too. Right beside me, while I was talking to the air. You’re gonna look like you’re as big a flake as I am.”

“Dammit, Cait. Why didn’t you sit on those guys?”

Her teeth ground before she spoke. “Because you kicked me off the case.” But the erstwhile TV crew had been the least of her worries.

The door to the Reel PIs room was propped wide open.

Cait glanced inside to find the space teeming with black T-shirted dorks, the Reel PIs logo prominent on their chests.

Clayton gave her a cheerful wave. “We’re a hit,” he shouted over the din. “Discovery and The CW have called.”

At Cait’s frown, he rushed over. “Don’t worry, Cait. I edited bits. Just aired the part where we’re running down the hall, and the swirling vortex. Doesn’t mean I won’t want to interview you for that episode.”

Cait didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or grimace. “Really think it’s going to happen? A TV show?”

“We’ve had more than three hundred thousand hits since we posted this morning. That was Mina’s idea. I didn’t want to give away anything until we had the clips edited. But she said what with the case making the major networks and the story plastered all over the newspapers, the time to strike was now.”

Sam’s hand clamped hard on one side of her hip. “I’m glad for you,” he growled. “But how the hell did all these folks get in here?”

Clayton waggled his eyebrows. “All crew members of Reel PIs, Inc., were cleared for admittance. These guys had to buy our T-shirts. Walked right past the cops.”

Cait and Sam shared a glance. She pressed her lips together to keep from congratulating him on his chutzpah.

Sam shook his head, a dire warning in his darkened glare. “I’d better check that hall. Make sure no one slipped past. We don’t want any more excitement.” His hand dropped from her side.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Leland’s voice rang imperiously from the doorway.

Cait pursed her lips. Shit was about to hit the fan. With an effort, she cleared her expression and turned.

His cheeks were florid, and both fists curled at his sides. “I want everyone out of here now!”

Sam went to the door, standing there as folks trailed out.

Cait indicated to Clayton that he, Booger, and Mina should stay put.

When the last of their fans exited, she faced Leland, schooling her expression and wincing inside.

He drew a deep breath, staring daggers straight at her. “It’s all over the damn Internet. Director’s on my ass to get this thing sewn up tight.” He turned to Sam. “You’re the one in charge here. How the hell did that footage get leaked?”

“It’s my fault. I didn’t confiscate their recordings.” A muscle in Sam’s jaw ticked.

Clayton cleared his throat. “Sir, we’re within our rights—”

Leland’s head swiveled sharply. “This is a goddamn crime scene. Already had an earful from the manager downstairs. Told him he’d get his hotel back when I was good and ready to release it.”

Cait sucked in a deep breath. Alarm bells rang. If he’d been that forceful in the foyer, anyone might have heard. She could think of at least one entity who wouldn’t be happy about the fact life wasn’t returning to normal in the foreseeable future.

No sooner had that thought slipped past than the floor beneath their feet began to vibrate. A hum sounded, louder than the one that had sounded right before she’d been electrocuted.

Her glance went to Sam, still standing in the doorway. His gaze locked with hers, and after another violent shudder, he spread his hands to hold the door frame.

Equipment bounced on mattresses and tables, then crashed to the floor, some plastic cases splintering.

Cait stood, barely balancing herself as the shaking intensified.

“Earthquake?” Leland shouted, bracing a hand on a wall.

She shook her head. So much worse. She could feel it in her bones. “Can’t you smell it?”

Sulfur. A thick noxious cloud of yellow fog began pouring through the vents, quickly obscuring the room.

Hand over hand, she grabbed along the edge of the dresser, needing to get to the hallway. Needing to get closer to Sam because above the loud rattling she heard long, wailing cries. Echoes of the dead.

The floor rolled beneath her feet, and she stumbled to her knees. She crawled forward through the noxious cloud, bumping into Leland, who sat on his ass beside the bed, a look of pure horror on his face.

“Sam!” She kept crawling, found the doorway, and moved outside.

The hall was clear of fog, quiet and empty. A flash of light burst farther down the hallway. A door slammed in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat and then thundered fast.

Cait pushed up to her feet and ran for the hallway. “No, no, no, no,” she chanted as she pounded down the hall. The cop who’d been on duty was gone. There was no sign of Sam.

She went straight to the taped-off door and tried the handle. It turned, but when she pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Standing back, she lifted her leg and punched her foot against the thin door. The lock gave, and the door slammed open, bouncing against the interior wall.

The gaping hole in the wall looked just as it had the first time she’d seen it, but she held her breath and looked inside.

Two more bodies lay inside. Their remains were twisted together, so grotesque her stomach lurched. Again, her heart seized in her chest and then pounded.

“That’s not Sam,” she whispered and backed away, bumping into Leland, who gripped her shoulders and guided her back out. “It’s not him,” she repeated, her voice rising as her body shook.

Leland wrapped his arms around her and dragged her from the hallway.

Cait shook her head, her stomach lurching.

Voices echoed inside her. An excited chorus of whispers and shouts, words unintelligible—but one deep rumble unmistakable.

Sam’s.

Voices chased Cait. Wails from the dead came howling. Whispers from uniforms and forensics techs combing a crime scene everyone was sick to death of seeing.

All bore stoic gray faces. Every one of them had known Sam. Everyone had liked and respected him. And because of their respect for him, they gave her peace, working quietly, their gazes never lingering long.

Cait didn’t know if she could have held it together if they hadn’t given her space.

As it was, Leland hovered over her from the moment he pulled her from the room, rubbing her back, offering her his condolences in a broken voice, and then shouting at everyone around them to “hurry the fuck up.”

Covering her ears, Cait shivered like a leaf in a gale. All blood had drained from her head, leaving her faint. Her fingers felt ice-cold. When Leland offered to drive her home, she stared, wondering where that might be. But she’d nodded her acceptance, only because she didn’t have the strength to argue.