We headed for the SUV. Belle and I climbed into it while Ashworth and Eli continued on to their own truck. Aiden got in a few minutes later and, after a quick check in the rearview mirror to ensure Ashworth and Eli were ready, led the way across town to the storage facility. He stopped beside the old Toyota truck parked in the driveway and, as we all climbed out, a gray-haired, somewhat paunchy man in his midfifties came around the corner and strode toward us.
“I’ve opened the unit.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “But I’ll have to be present when you enter, and the cameras will be recording what happens.”
“That’s fine,” Aiden said, and motioned the man to lead the way.
Monty’s unit was one of the larger ones to the rear of the facility, and was double-door—no doubt to avoid any possible risk of scratches when reversing out.
The Mustang sat in the middle of the large unit; to the left, there were multiple stacks of full packing boxes—meaning at least he hadn’t lost everything he owned in the explosion—and, on the other side, shelves stacked with car bits and pieces.
I moved to the right and ran my hand over the various items, looking for something that contained enough of Monty’s vibes to find him. A slight tingle of energy came from the polishing cloth sitting on top of the wax container, but it wasn’t strong enough to be of much use.
I moved around the car and ran my fingers along the front of the boxes. Again, nothing. I swore and then glanced at Aiden. “We’re going to have to break in.”
“Hang on while I go grab a coat hanger,” Ashworth said.
He was back within seconds, a screwdriver and an elongated coat hanger in one hand. He carefully levered the window away from the weather strip with the screwdriver and then stuck a hanger down in the gap between the window and the door. After a couple of seconds, the door popped open.
“Impressive.” Aiden’s voice was dry. “And your proficiency suggests you did more than dabble.”
Ashworth didn’t deny it. He simply opened the door and then motioned me to get in. I slipped inside the car and skimmed my hand over everything. It wasn’t until I neared the glove compartment that I got a reaction. I quickly opened i
t; the top layer consisted of the car’s service books and packets of spare fuses and globes—none of which held his resonance. I pulled them out and then leaned over the center console for a better look at the back of the compartment. And there, in the rear, was a gold ring. Even before I grabbed it, my fingers began to burn.
It wasn’t a reaction caused by my psychometry flaring to life.
It was a reflection of what Monty was currently feeling.
But the fact I was getting that so strongly, without going too deep, not only suggested his connection with this ring was strong, but also said he was very much alive.
I wrapped my fingers around the ring and then climbed out of the car. But before I could say anything, my phone rang, the sharp sound making me jump.
I frowned and dragged it from my pocket. Monty. My mouth went dry, and I swore again.
“What?” Aiden said immediately.
I turned the phone around so he could see the screen. “It can’t be him. He’s in the hands of the soucouyant.”
“Answer it,” Ashworth said. “It’s just possible he’s escaped and needs help.”
I didn’t think that would be the case, but I nevertheless hit the answer button and said, “Monty, are you okay?”
“No,” he said, his voice etched with weariness and pain. “But I am alive. And I want to remain that way.”
“Where are you and what does she want?”
“Her skin, in exchange for me. I think I’m in the clearing where we found the second body.”
Which wasn’t all that far away. “She’ll kill us all the minute she gets her skin.”
“More than likely, but you’ve more in your arsenal than just—”
He was cut off by a harsh, “Bring it. Tonight. Or he pay.”
The broken statement hadn’t come from a human throat.
The phone went dead.
I took a deep breath in an effort to contain the surging fear and said, “This will be a trap. How are we going to deal with it?”