Chapter 14

Johnny paused for a moment on the sidewalk, watching the ambulance pull away that contained Mr. Teal and Roy in the back and Mrs. Teal in the front with the driver. Marco and Chet were still inside the house doing the small amount of overhaul that needed done, while their captain was making a beeline towards him. He swallowed hard and waited, wondering what Roy had told him and what he was going to say.

"John? The victim accused his wife of starting that fire, didn't he?"

"Yessir," he replied, running the two words together in his nervousness.

Volunteering information was not on his agenda right now, especially with the way the boss was looking him over. If he had to put a word to that look, he would have to say contemplation. He was surprised, as he was sure skepticism or even anger was going to be directed his way. It seemed, however, like Stanley was rolling the words around in his head before letting them spill out his mouth; Johnny supposed that was one of those leadership things that he might have a hard time with when he decided to climb the upwards ladder within the department. Shooting off his mouth before thinking about it happened naturally, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to stop that bad habit.

Apparently Cap had it down pat, as he flicked his hand towards the squad and said simply, "That's what I thought. Go on your follow up, and I'll see you back at the station."

He walked off towards the engine with his long, ground eating stride. By the time Gage swallowed down part of his paranoia and hesitantly replied "okay", it was to a departing back. Another thing to worry about; the captain's words held promise of further inquisition. He slid awkwardly into the truck, with none of his usual grace, and cast a suspicious eye towards the house. He was certain that Alice had been the cause of the fire and not Mrs. Teal. Probably had knocked the poor guy down when he had been upstairs in their house that other time too; she had proven herself perfectly capable of that deed so maybe she had just been practicing with him before going for the brother – in – law. That didn't explain the possessions, or whatever they were calling them, though, and he could feel the dread crawling down his back as he easily eliminated that idea. She wasn't done with whatever she planning, that was for sure, and with Teal in the hospital…well, all hell was about to break lose, no doubt about it.

~eeeEEEeee~

After eight hours of restless sleep, a sleep that was riddled with ridiculous fragments of headless horsemen and shrieking goblins, Roy was incredibly weary the next evening. Yawning widely, he pulled into the parking lot of his partner's apartment and watched as Johnny meandered towards him, steps slow and hesitant, with hands jammed into the front pockets of his dress slacks. So he wasn't the only one that that had been plagued by nightmares, he thought sympathetically, glad that he had suggested the carpool. Gage had just sold his VW van, and was down to his motorcycle for transportation. He refused to answer any questions about the replacement vehicle he had purchased; saying only that the guys had probably never seen one on the streets of Los Angeles.

"Thanks for the ride," he murmured as he climbed into DeSoto's truck, his brief smile subdued and dark pouches of skin under his eyes, reaffirming his friend's guess as to the amount of shuteye he had also managed.

Roy glanced up at the sky as he pulled out of the parking lot and gave a brief nod. "Good thing we planned it this way; I think we're in for some weather."

"Of course we are. I bet there's going to be plenty of thunder and lightning, gusty wind, and pouring rain," he replied sarcastically, crossing his arms and leaning back.

"Why do you say that? Oh, right, just the perfect setting for the séance."

"Yeah, the séance thing." His tone was glum and matched Roy's own mood and the threatening sky. "I honestly cannot believe we're doing this."

"Me neither."

Neither was inclined to discuss what had occurred and what the evening might bring. They maintained the uneasy silence as they headed out of the city following Lopez's scrawled directions on a torn piece of paper. The house was located in Three Piece Canyon and it required an hour of driving to reach the address. By the time they had traveled down the paved but potholed road and turned into the gravel driveway, Roy was thankful he chosen to drive his truck instead of the Porsche. The wind whipped their clothes and their hair as they ran towards the wide porch, the sprinkles of rain turning to a torrential downpour as they made it safely under the roof.

"Man that was close! A cold rain too," Johnny complained, trying to shake off the moisture that had spotted his long sleeve shirt and clung to his dark hair. He put his finger up to the doorbell and paused, doubt shadowing his face in the dim light of the pair of black sconces mounted on either side of the door. "I don't think I can do this."

Roy had no time to formulate a reply as the inner door opened suddenly and Marco's voice floated through the screen door. "Hey guys, you made it just in time, come on in. Everyone's here, even Mrs. Butler. Tia Maria invited her for supper too."

Wiping their shoes off on the bristly welcome mat, the paramedics entered the Victorian style house and met their hostess. She was a petite woman, probably not over five foot tall, with snowy white hair and a face adorned with the wrinkles of time. Her floor length, black dress mimicked the period of the house and also the occasion with its swishing folds and somber color. A large oval cameo was pinned to the high neck of her gown and added a bit of color. Unable to help himself, Johnny impulsively took both of her age gnarled hands in his own and bowed over them.

"Why Mr. Gage!" She giggled and her laugh was bubbling and youthful, which brought smiles to all of the men clustered by the door. She swatted him playfully on the arm and let him escort her to the dining room, treading noiselessly on the thick, rose covered area rugs that adorned the dark wood floors. The rest of the crew was already gathered around the table.

Hellos were said and introductions to Mrs. Butler were made as the two men settled themselves, on either side of her, into the straight back, wooden chairs adorned with soft, thick cushions; Marco led his great aunt Torres to the head of the rectangular table and took his own seat next to her. Aside from a strange look, the medium made no comment about remembering them from the Teal house and Johnny had no desire to remind her. Let her ask, or figure it out for herself.

He glanced about the warmly lit room and felt a sliver of reassurance touch his frayed nerves. This had to be one of the rooms still furnished, for the most part, as it was originally, for there was an abundance of red, velvet, and gold throughout the large space. Heavy folds of drapery covered the long windows and blocked the blustery weather outside, while an enormous gold chandelier swung merrily over the table, lights reflecting in every direction from the diamond shaped prisms dangling from it. The colors were a bit overwhelming but somehow it all worked; he could imagine a hundred years ago the gentlemen sitting here eating and drinking while flirting outrageously with the ladies of the house.

He looked down at his own meal of roast chicken, dumplings, peas, and blackberry pie. He picked at it, enjoying the delicious flavor but unable to swallow past the suffocating lump in his throat. He noticed that his partner wasn't eating much either and caught the stare that was aimed his way. Roy looked pointedly at his partially eaten dinner and waved his hands in a little gesture that Gage loosely interpreted as "why aren't you eating?"

Noticing Mrs. Butler's head swiveling between them, her attention apparently caught by their silent exchange, Johnny took a deep gulp of water from his goblet and decided just to ignore his friend's question. Laying his fork down on the edge of his plate, he scrutinized each of the people at the table, starting with their captain.

Stanley, who was sitting across from Marco, was polishing off his dessert and engaged in a lively discussion with Maria. The grilling that John had worried about last shift had never happened; in fact, except for several casual questions Cap had pretty much left him alone. Which of course raised the question, at least in his suspicious mind, what was Hank Stanley up to? Surely he wasn't buying into any of this hocus pocus stuff? Yet in the few comments DeSoto had made about his conversation with the man, their leader had appeared eager to attend this little spirit gathering. Maybe he actually believed in ghosts but more than likely he really was concerned about his crew and wanted to keep an eye on them. That was probably it…

Gage ran a finger over the rim of his glass and wished for a moment that it was something stronger. His eyes left the hypnotizing sway of the water and traveled diagonally across the table to Chet. The curly haired lineman was chasing peas across his plate with single – minded determination and didn't appear to be the least interested in his one of a kind surroundings or the casual conversation humming about him. Gage knew he was anticipating the upcoming séance with excitement, though, and that Kelly also believed strongly that Alice had possessed him at least several times. So the usually talkative and strongly opinionated man was playing it cool, at least for now. Probably counting his little green veggies and trying to come up with some zingers for Marco about this house; there was no way Kelly was going to let his buddy off the hook about that!

Lips twitching slightly, John rolled his eyes towards his left where Mike Stoker sat, displaying his usual quiet and observant ways. The medic had no idea what the engineer thought of the whole situation; getting that information from his friend at the library had been both helpful and surprising, as no one had any idea that he was going to do it. Whether or not the engineer had an opinion one way or another about the whole mess remained to be seen, as he really hadn't voiced his thoughts. But honestly, Johnny didn't really care if Mike thought he was loony or not, as he had proved beyond a doubt that he had his back. He might have been freaking out a bit back there at the station yesterday afternoon but he had been very well aware of Stoker pulling the unwanted attention away from him and also berating good old Chester.

As far as Kelly's partner, he looked a bit tense. A loud crack of thunder shook the room and as Gage was leaning back a bit in his chair to observe the older man, he couldn't help but notice the reaction to the noise. Marco went airborne a brief second, a look of horror darkening his face, and Johnny would have laughed if he hadn't been so jumpy himself. Everything that had happened so far Lopez had fervently believed, even the events he hadn't personally witnessed; he had firmly drawn his own conclusions and volunteered his suggestions without a moment's hesitation. He was steadfastly loyal to them all, and wanted nothing more than to end Alice's reign of terror. Another good man that had their backs…..

And of course there was Roy, across from him at the table, still stealing covert glances under the pretense of chatting with the medium. No matter that DeSoto had confessed earlier that he was beginning to believe in ghosts - Johnny still pegged him as the number one doubter at the table. Roy was such a down to earth guy that he had to see things right in front of him before he would admit to their existence; he probably didn't believe in UFOs, fairy tales, or Bigfoot either. Gage really couldn't blame him, though, because he was still holding out hope that the whole thing was just a long, drawn out nightmare that would end, preferably before this creepy séance thing started.

The chime of glass broke John's preoccupation of the unnatural, and he jerked his head towards the far end of the table. Maria had stood up, and was tapping the edge of her fork against her water goblet.

"Gentlemen and Lady, shall we proceed to the front parlor for the evening's attraction?"

Chairs were pushed back and the guests waited for Mrs. Torres to precede them from the room. She gracefully swished her way over to Johnny and he gallantly took her arm once again to escort her. Marco had detoured around the table in the opposite direction from his aunt and led the way to the parlor, which was indeed in the front of house. Although a bit smaller than the dining room, it was decorated in the same way with rich fabrics; the chandelier that had warmed and illuminated the larger space was replaced here with a dozen or so lamps scattered throughout that created an even cozier feeling. There were several small couches, upholstered in dark burgundy, as well as groupings of comfortable chairs with small tables nestled between them.

Johnny's appraising gaze was drawn to the bay windows that he had noticed while standing on the front porch earlier. The three ceiling to floor windows were lightly swathed in lacy, floaty material, with tasseled shades drawn to block out the night. A table was set up in the alcove with eight chairs drawn up around it; he recognized the tablecloth covering the round wood as Mrs. Butler's. He found himself suddenly standing in the tight space, fingering the material of the dark cloth, with no recollection of how he had got there. He shuddered, not sure if it was for that reason or the fact that he seemed to be standing in a draft of frigid air. Both, without a doubt, because the air was swirling menacingly around his legs, flicking the edges of the light curtains in a chaotic manner, and lifting the fringed hem of the medium's stupid prop in a frantic dance; he dropped his hand and swatted at the nothingness, feeling icy tendrils climbing his arm.

"Mr. Gage?" A comforting hand on his other bare forearm, as the sleeves had been rolled up during dinner, caused him to do a fair imitation of the jump he had observed Marco doing earlier. He turned his head slowly, blinking in confusion, and met the discerning stare of their hostess. "Here, I brought you a little something to warm your insides."

She proffered a warmed snifter filled a quarter full with a golden liquid and Gage took it with a steady hand, proud of himself for being able to manage it. He resisted the urge to give it an experimental sniff before taking a swallow, expecting the medicinal taste of brandy.

"Whoa!" He choked out, as warmth hit his tongue and slid down his throat. He tried another tentative sip before directing a questioning gaze at Mrs. Torres. "I was really expecting something else…."

"It's Drambuie, one of my favorites, especially in weather like this. I must admit that I like my drinks strong, and sometimes a bit sweet," she confided with a sly smile, releasing his captive arm and patting it. "You looked like you could use something to wet your whistle and take the edge off."

"Indeed," Johnny said, unable to come up with anything else to say but pleased and surprised with her intuitiveness. He cut his eyes back towards the curtains and the tablecloth, but all was still. Nothing brushed his legs or stirred the materials in the alcove. Had it been another hallucination on his part? He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to focus on the amber liquid. His hand betrayed him this time by trembling slightly as he raised the glass and drained the contents in two large gulps. He lowered his hand, embarrassed by his gluttony and his weakness.

"You know, I always say be prepared; I must say that the Boy Scouts knew what they were doing when they came up with that saying!" Maria exclaimed with a laugh, easily removing the now cool glass from clenched fingers and replacing it with another warmed one. "Now bottoms up, my dear boy, for the night is young and we have things we must see to."

Definitely going to have to ask Lopez about his great aunt's life, John mused with a tight smile. That was bound to be a story of great adventure and most likely mayhem, judging by the animation in the lady's face and the mirth in her voice. Plus he was pretty sure he had overheard her saying something about meeting Jack London when she was young, how incredible was that? London was one his favorite fiction writers and he had traveled to many exciting places through the reading of the writer's many stories.

"Yes ma'am," he answered obediently, deliberately turning his back on the windows and giving Mrs. Torres a little toast with his glass. She snatched up another snifter placed on a tray and sitting conveniently on one of the doily covered tables next to her and tapped her vessel against his with a resounding clink.

"Here's to a productive evening!" She stated loudly, taking a sip and smacking her lips appreciatively. This time John's smile widened and reached his eyes as he watched her enjoy her drink; she grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the cold, unwelcoming alcove and into the noisy hum of the room.

~eeeEEEeee~

Twenty minutes later conversation had begun to quiet down which allowed the noise of the continuing storm outside to fill the parlor. Johnny, sprawled limblessly in a winged armchair next to the unlit fireplace, jolted upright at a particularly sharp crack of thunder. He carefully placed his fourth glass of Drambuie down on the ornate table at his elbow and stifled a yawn, ignoring the fact that he had been about to succumb to the beckoning arms of sleep.

"It was a dark and stormy night…" he began in a monotone, glancing about and noting the activities of all the occupants. His prime focus was the whereabouts of the spiritualist, though; he wanted to see what she was up to and whether her energy was "right" to begin the séance. He finally located her standing motionless in the same spot he had been earlier. Her posture was stiff and he was pretty sure her heavily mascaraed eyes were closed. Probably summoning the spirits, or her accomplices, depending on whether she had outside help or not…he threw his head back on the soft pillow of upholstery, feeling a pleasant lassitude settle over him despite the circumstances.

The old but young dame and her alcohol had certainly done the trick, coating all his apprehensions with a thin veneer of complacency, whatever will be will be, or something like that. He was certainly glad that he wasn't doing the driving home – then again he had already been offered the hospitality of an overnight stay. Chet and Marco were going to spend the night but Roy was still nursing his first beer, lounging upright and chatting easily with Maria Torres, who was still going forward at full steam. Captain Stanley was stretched out comfortably in the armchair that matched Gage's and was situated at an angle to his; the captain was sound asleep, the one drink that he had imbibed and the food apparently soothing him to quick slumber.

Eyeing his boss with a jealous eye, easily forgetting that he had been on the verge of snoozing himself, John wobbled out of the comforting arms of the chair and staggered slightly as he quickly surveyed the room again. He steadied himself on the marble mantel of the ornate fireplace as he watched Mrs. Butler. The medium now had her arms straight down by her sides, fist clenched, and face screwed up in concentration. She was putting on a pretty good show over there and if he hadn't witnessed the tail end of her performance at the Teal house, he might have believed she was the real thing. He hadn't missed her little glances, while they were treating Mrs. Teal, to see what was happening around her when she had supposedly been in a trance. He hadn't had the heart to burst the guys' hope bubbles by snitching on the woman. Let them think she was a bona fide spirit communicator and maybe they would back off a bit, give him some space. He knew they meant well, wanted to help him, but he felt like he was suffocating in their concern and the sympathy. They were good guys, the whole bunch of them, even Chet with his jokes and weird suggestions…..man, they were like family!

He snickered, hiding the sound behind his hand, as he realized that the booze was taking him down a path laden with sentiment. He glanced over at the drink he had set down and contemplated finishing it, but decided against it. Enough of the warm and fuzzy stuff; it was time to get this whole farce over with. He straightened up and noted that their hostess had detached herself away from his partner. She was advancing on Mrs. Butler with determination in every step.

"Mrs. Butler, are you ready to begin the séance? Mrs. Butler?" Mrs. Torres touched the other's arm when no response was forthcoming; Johnny had moved up beside them and watched with interest as the medium slowly opened her eyes and blinked them several times.

"Wha…..what?" She asked in confusion, reaching a hand up to pull at one of the gold hoop earrings that swung from her ears. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Maria tilted her head in a birdlike movement and regarded Butler thoughtfully for a moment before she answered. "I was asking if you were ready? Is there something wrong, my dear?"

"No, no, there just appears to be a great deal of activity over here," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. She looked past the shorter woman and stared at Gage, who stared right back with lips twitching in amusement.

How much had Lopez told this woman? Had she had time to go to the library and research Alice before tonight's do? Of course she had, she would have dug up all that stuff when she had received the initial call from whoever had set up the séance at the Teal house. He really needed to talk to Lopez before this thing started and find out exactly what information had been shared.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, breaking free from the rude stare still being directed at him and heading in the direction of the two linemen. They were sitting in several chairs grouped together in what Johnny supposed could be called an intimate setting. He could tell an argument was taking place by their body movements; the low humming of their tense voices broke off when he was several steps away and Lopez abruptly stood up, relief breaking out on his face.

"Johnny!" He gushed, punching him in the arm while still glaring at Kelly. Chet merely scowled back, jaw jutted out mutinously.

"Ah," Gage began, taken back by the familiarity and the still close proximity of Marco. He stepped back, rubbing the punched arm. "What did you tell that medium, Mrs. Butler, when you called her?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing, just said that Aunt Maria wanted to host a séance here to see if there were any spirits flying around. Aunt Maria was totally for it; in fact, she admitted that she had always wanted to participate in one. That's all both of them know about it, well, my aunt knows that there may be someone we want to try and communicate with, 'cause I had to tell her a reason for this whole thing, but I didn't tell her who. So she doesn't know a thing about Alice or any of your, uh, visitations." Marco stopped and drew a deep breath after his rapid fire answer.

"Good, that's good," Gage acknowledged, looking back and forth between the two men with a quizzical frown. "What's bugging you guys?"

Lopez shuffled his feet and looked sheepish, if only for a moment. He avoided Johnny's raised eyebrows and tilted head and instead frowned in his partner's direction. "Chet, here, is being difficult and insulting, as usual."

"I am not!" Chet whined, standing up and shaking his head vehemently. "I don't think it was wrong of me to ask you if we should collect money..."

"And I said no!" Marco interrupted. "Our idea, we take care of it! And that's not all you did, amigo, you also said some rude things about this house and its, its….ah, history!"

John leaned sideways and peered at the little doily draped table positioned between the chairs. There was four empty glasses perched there so no, they weren't really too intoxicated. His own pleasant buzz was giving way to a throbbing in his temples as well as an ache in his stomach. Potent stuff, that Drambuie, at least on a half empty gut and his dehydrated body.

He straightened back up and regarded the linemen, who were now standing shoulder to shoulder and bumping each other with increasing frequency and total disregard for the delicate knickknacks strewn about.

"Knock it off you idiots!" He hissed, understanding why their captain sometimes had that bemused but frustrated expression sliding across his face, especially at roll call. Both men suddenly stopped their childish antics but not because of his admonishment; Marco's aunt was beckoning to them.

"Come on Gage," Chet said seriously, the argument suddenly forgotten. He grabbed him by the arm and Lopez split off to his other side; they propelled their unwilling crewmate forward a step before he snarled and shook off their clutching hands.

The whole maneuver reminded him of their protectiveness down in the basement of the mortuary. He took a wary step forward, glancing over his shoulder, and almost smacked into Maria. The elderly lady had closed the distance between herself and their little group with surprising speed.

It was Kelly that she confronted. "Mr. Chester B. Kelly! I am told that in the fire station, you are the prankster and the instigator of many things, not all of them nice."

"Who, me?" An innocent look starting off his act, Chet placed a hand on his chest in indignation and opened his mouth to begin the spiel. Mrs. Torres simply snagged his earlobe between her index finger and thumb and began leading him across the room. Johnny and Marco trailed behind; Johnny had his mouth slightly open in astonishment and Marco was gracing the interested spectators with a knowing smirk.

"The room I have assigned you for tonight, Mr. Kelly, once belonged to a young woman who was reportedly quite the trickster herself. And do you know, on a night like this she went too far…."

Gage's mouth snapped shut as they followed behind, turning off the pretty lamps as they went. Captain Stanley fell in behind them shaking his head as Chet's stuttering "but, but, buts" and John finally let loose a snort of mirth, releasing some of the tension that was threatening to overtake him.

"They make a nice pair, don't they?" He whispered to his Hispanic crewmate as they passed Roy and he stepped into the trail of darkness they were leaving.

"Nope, Chet would never be able to handle her," Marco disagreed with a cheeky smile, purposely nudging the medic into the chair next to him, directly across the circle from Mrs. Butler. Roy snagged the chair on the other side of his partner and shrugged apologetically at their captain. He took the remaining seat and smiles faded as the group grew quiet.

Mrs. Butler stared at the white pillar candle burning in the center of the table and held out her hands, palms flat. "Please join hands, close your eyes, remain silent, and concentrate. I am told there is a rich history attached to this house, and I have no doubt that we will be talking with at least one lost soul, and probably more."

A nervous titter came from a male throat somewhere and Johnny quelled the answering laughter that threatened to bubble out. He reluctantly gave up his hands to Marco and Roy and peeked through slitted lids at the woman. The last time he had seen her, at the Teal house, she wore her hair twisted up; tonight it fell in dark waves about her shoulders. She'd had it tucked behind her ears for the whole evening but now it fell forward and brushed the top of the table as she leaned in, perilously close to the flame. She did look pretty convincing, especially since she was backlit by the occasion flash of lightning behind her. He was unable to contain the laughter this time but was able to convert it into a halfhearted cough as it left his lips. He felt the bone crunching squeeze on his left hand and knew that Marco was warning him to behave. Hadn't fooled him, then, with the camouflaged giggle but maybe it had worked with everyone else because there were no evil glares coming his way; of course they all had their heads slightly bowed and eyes closed per the directions of their spirit seeker…

He smiled to himself and let his eyes slide shut completely. It was time to play the game, and see what this lady was going to conjure out of the darkness. Another sudden clap of thunder and he felt the briefest twitch of the hand on his right as the noise apparently startled the usually unflappable Roy. The rain was slashing against the windows now with an intense pellet like ferocity and the lightning had gone from brief appearances to sheets of lingering light that he could see through the thin skin of his eyelids. And to top it all off, the wind was howling like a banshee, tunneling down through the chimney and exploding out into the room in a flood of ear splitting noise.

Gage shivered in spite of his disbelief in the spiritualist's abilities. He listened to the low drone of her voice with only partial attention as she started yacking with someone named Gladys, telling them all about the spirit's unhappiness with the afterlife. No one at the table had spoken up and claimed to know the elusive presence – wasn't that how these things were supposed to work? A dead relative or lost love would try and contact one of the people sitting in on the séance? Even the firm believer to his left was shifting uncomfortably in his chair but he still had Johnny's hand pinned firmly to the tablecloth with his own. There was no hand holding with these guys for both Marco and Roy had his hands firmly trapped. Must be afraid he was going to run for freedom but they shouldn't be worried about that; they should worry about him falling from his chair in boredom.

He sighed softly and then another shiver ran though him as he felt something swirl about his legs, the same cold whoosh of air he had felt earlier. Only this time it snaked up his legs and began to wind a slow, chilling coil about his lower body. His attention now fully diverted away from Mrs. Butler, he missed her sudden silence as "Gladys" apparently fled the room and was replaced by something else. Something, or someone, that began as a muffled whine from the medium's lips and grew in volume to a wail of anguish. A nerve wracking sound that escalated to a scream as another hammer of thunder rattled the old house, the candle on the table flickered and blew out, and an answering, anguished yell shook the lead pane windows…..

~TBC~

A/N – In the last run to the Teal house on the episode, Johnny and Roy pull in a hose to extinguish a fire basically contained within the window curtains; Mrs. Teal calls for help – her husband is lying on the floor – they carry him out. He has suffered smoke inhalation and burns to his hands and asks his wife "why she did it".