Tristan frowned at the tone the Judge took when he referred to me. “She’s getting bits and pieces of that night back, but she was glamoured. We may not be able to pull anything else from that Swiss cheese memory of hers.” He took a step towards me and smoothed a palm over my hair. “Sorry dearest. I don’t mean to sound as if you haven’t been of help. You have.”
I glowed under his praise. I am such a sucker for a handsome man’s approval. I really need to grow some balls or something. “Maybe there’s something else I can do?” I offered.
He thought for a moment before he nodded. “There is, and thank you for suggesting it. I’d like you and Dan to search around Old Town for the ghost we lost, the other murdered girl.”
Dan said, “Stacy Wilkerson. That’s a lot of ground to cover.” He didn’t complain. My Marlboro Man looked eager for the challenge.
“She’s not at any of the places she frequented during her life. I checked myself. She’s got to be down here somewhere.” Tristan went grim, his eyes darkening. “The Ripper is still out there, looking for his next victim. We don’t have much time before he strikes again.
Behind him, the Judge’s beautiful but frozen voice sent a chill through the room. “The city should thank him for cleaning up the vermin.” He stared at me over Tristan’s shoulder, and I stiffened at the slur.
Tristan’s expression turned downright thunderous as he turned on his assistant. “I know you have strong feelings about prostitutes and escorts, but do not insult Brandilynn again. She is important to me and I won’t have her judged, not when we’ve done so much worse ourselves.”
Dan’s hand found mine, and he squeezed gently. “Let’s get going, Brandilynn. You don’t need this crap.”
As Dan transported us out, leaving the other two men glaring at each other, Tristan’s voice followed us. “Be careful out there.”
I wondered what was out there to make him advise caution in the world of the dead. Surely there couldn’t be anything worse out there than the steaming hatred in the Judge’s eyes when he stared at me.
* * * *
We materialized in a dark, shadowed place, a dirt path at our feet. The air smelled dank and rotting, bringing to mind sewage and dead things. I quickly traded my sandals for knee-high boots. The sundress changed to cargo pants and a button-down blouse with long sleeves. I thought about gloves for a moment. I so didn’t want to touch anything here. Even the air felt dirty.
A cacophony of sounds overlaid the vista of crumbled tabby ruins of long-ago homes: sobs, shrieks, moans, and inhuman growls. Tree roots from the world above clawed their way down to catch at the ground beneath my feet. It was a world of decay, where it seemed no living thing had ever existed. I shuddered.
“Nice place you got here. Where the heck have you brought me?”
Dan grimaced as he tugged me along the path that might have once been a road. “This is under union Street, a few blocks from downtown.”
I looked over my head, as if I might spy the neighborhood above me with its seedy houses, weed-choked lawns and old cars held together with baling wire. “The bad part of Old Town. Funny how it’s just as scary here.” An unearthly shriek, not too far away, made me jump. “Make that scarier.”
“This is a thin place. As above, so below.”
In an alleyway between two partially standing houses, I saw two naked men. One had his hands braced against the wall of one house, his legs spread wide apart as the other reamed his backside. Good heavens. They paused mid-stroke to return my stare, their gazes cold and uncaring. I looked away.
“What do you mean by a ‘thin place’?” I asked Dan. I had to be blushing fifty shades of red.
“This is one of the locations where the world of the living overlaps with the world of the dead. What goes on up there affects down here, and vice versa.”
“So the drug trade and murders that happen so often there are making it bad here?”
“Right. And the black magic practiced in this area down here makes the killing and need for drugs more prevalent up there. It’s a vicious cycle, constantly feeding on itself.”
“Black magic?” I watched as dark figures flitted from the crumbled structures around us, doing heaven knew what.
“See those wards there?” Dan tugged me over to a tabby wall. What I had taken as graffiti were actually strange symbols painted on the shell-bumped surface. My eyes tried to make sense of the angry red hieroglyphics.
Dan warned, “Whatever you do, don’t let go of my hand. I’ll get us out of here quick if we’re threatened.”