Chapter 18: More Bad News

Jenna and Gabby sat in Clair’s office. Their eyes were sunken, their faces drawn. They looked as if they hadn’t slept well in days and Clair didn’t care.

Clair took pills each night to sleep. And it had gotten bad enough that she washed them down with a glass of wine. Only she and the twins knew what was going on, what it was that Shane and Frank were doing to the organization.

It has to be them, she thought, stifling a curse.

“How many?” Clair asked, hating the stiffness in her voice.

“Three on Monday night. Two more on Tuesday,” Jenna answered.

“They took a breather on Wednesday and Thursday,” Gabby continued, “and then hit us again yesterday.”

Clair glared at Gabby until the woman added, “Another three.”

“Damn it!” Clair snarled, slapping the top of her desk.

“At least they’re small,” Jenna said.

“The size doesn’t matter here,” Clair spat. “Every single one of them is necessary now. Rousseau didn’t return. We have the One. We’re not losing one ghost in each house. Oh no, we’re losing all of the dead it siphons energy from. It is a horrific ripple in our little pond.”

“Do you want us to go to Shane’s house?” Jenna asked.

“Are you serious?” Clair asked after a stunned moment of silence.

“Sure,” Gabby said, nodding and glancing at her twin. “It’s just him and his buddy, right?”

Clair took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, “Were either of you ever informed as to why these two gentlemen are an issue for us?”

“No,” Jenna said. “We only know that they were causing some trouble.”

The phone on the desk rang before Clair could enlighten the sisters. A look at the base showed a button labeled “Emilio and Sadie” flashed. Something about the pair tugged at her memory but it wouldn’t reveal itself. Frowning, Clair reached out and answered the call.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“Why hello,” a man said. His tone was harsh and unforgiving. “Who’s this?”

“Evidently the wrong number,” Clair retorted and slammed the phone back into its cradle.

Before her hand had left the receiver, the phone rang again.

The same line flashed.

Feeling anger flare within her, Clair snatched up the phone.

“You have the wrong number,” she began, but the man on the other end cut her off before she could finish.

“Where’s Harlan?”

“He’s not here,” she replied, warily. “Who’s this?”

“This is Shane Ryan.”

Clair straightened up. “Shane.”

“Yes,” he said. “Who are you?”

“I’m Clair.” The twins leaned in, all hints of exhaustion gone as they listened intently to the part of the conversation they could hear.

“You’re in charge now,” Shane said. It was a statement, not a question.

“I am,” Clair replied.

“What happened to Harlan?” Shane asked.

“I had him strangled,” she responded.

A snort of laughter came through the line. “Good. Well, I have to ask, how do you like my work so far?”

Hatred boiled within her. Gritting her teeth together, she replied, “I’m not. When are you going to stop?”

“Just as soon as I’ve crushed your organization,” Shane replied in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible.

“You can’t,” Clair stated.

“Maybe not,” Shane conceded. “But I’m going to try. And now, I know how.”

He left an unasked question in the dead space between them and when Clair didn’t speak, he did.

“I know about the One,” Shane said. “I know where it is. And while I figure out what to do about it, how to go about destroying it, I’m going to continue to disassemble the Watchers. A single ghost at a time.”

“And what makes you think you’ll succeed?” Clair hissed. “What makes you think we can’t stop you?”