Lost Souls (Cainsville 3.6)

He arched his brows.

"You know what I mean, Gabriel. Tell me you aren't going to pick my brain and then chicken out on pursuing the case."

"Chicken out? That's rather colorful."

"Rather accurate, too, but fine, let me reword that. Tell me you won't waste my time by deciding tomorrow that you are far, far too busy to pursue this case."

"Olivia may not wish to--"

"Then you will. You'll give her that excuse about not wanting to waste her time. You'll tell her you are still pursuing it and that you would appreciate her help--as paid employment. So yes?"

He made a noise.

"Try again, Gabriel. Yes, Rose, I promise I am not wasting your time. I'm asking Olivia to come ghost hunting with me."

"I would hardly call it--"

"Yes?"

"Yes. To...what you said."

"Good. Ask your questions."

TWELVE

GABRIEL

Gabriel rarely regretted his rhetorical style. It was not showy or flashy, and on seeing a lawyer stage the courtroom equivalent of a melodrama, while he could appreciate the effectiveness, it did not appeal to him. He watched lawyers gesture and mug and cast the defendant in the role of saint--or misbegotten sinner--and he felt a moue of distaste. That was showmanship, not skill. Like a pickpocket who shouts, "Fire!" in a crowded room because he's not good enough to empty a pocket with light fingers and a nudge of misdirection.

Gabriel did his best work outside the courtroom. Building the case. Gathering the evidence. Arranging it to fit his narrative and, yes, sometimes filling in the holes with carefully constructed fictions. In the courtroom, while he certainly employed some legal sleight of hand and misdirection, his defense seemed simple and straightforward, and it was given in the same tone. Direct. Economical. Confident. No flourishes or digressions.

That was his natural style both in and out of the courtroom. Which meant that he was not the best person to turn interesting facts into a compelling narrative. As Rose talked to him about ghosts, he imagined relaying the information to Olivia and hearing it sound about as captivating as a graduate-level lecture on cellular biology.

He did take notes, though. Lots of notes.

Gabriel had not yet told Rose the exact nature of the case. Even with a woman who made her living as a psychic, he feared he'd get as far as "hitchhiking ghost" and she'd burst out laughing.

In fact, her career made him even more wary. Rose wasn't some fortune-teller who honestly believed everything she told her clients. She might have the Sight, but she was also a Walsh, which meant she did some "filling in the holes" with her own carefully constructed fictions. Like Gabriel, she took the basic facts and massaged them into a pleasing narrative, one designed to make her point--whether it was that the client needed to give up smoking or kic

k out ungrateful offspring.

So he began by asking about vengeful ghosts in folklore.

Rose did not share his rhetorical style. Nor was she a psychic of the "wait, I see your future, slowly appearing, taking form before my eyes" variety. But the ability to tell a good story ran in the Walsh family, being one of the traits that had apparently bypassed him. So when he took notes, he made a concerted effort not to only record facts--as was his inclination--but to add the more colorful details for Olivia.

The vengeful ghost was a horror-genre staple, and for very good reason. If one was going to postulate the existence of spirits, it made sense that a reason they would return was to avenge a wrongful death. He'd had a case, years ago, involving a cat that did indeed seem to have nine lives, returning after each supposed death to stalk and torment his client--the cat's killer. Gabriel had even used that to convince his client to accept a plea bargain by giving him a choice: prison or the cat. He chose jail time. There are few things as pernicious as a cat that will not stay dead.

Vengeful ghosts, then, made logical sense. Cultures from around the world agreed, each having their own variation on the theme.

In ancient Rome, there were the lemures, angry because they'd been denied a proper burial, manifesting not in physical form but as a feeling of dread, of malignant darkness. China had a type of ghost that would make a defense attorney's job far more complicated: the yuan gui--ghosts with a grievance--wandering endlessly, looking for people with whom they could share evidence that would lead to their killers. China also had the you hun ye gui, seeking terrible vengeance on those who had wronged them. Japan had onryo, spirits returning for vengeance and not particularly concerned with whether they actually targeted the guilty, but acting in blind rage, causing natural disasters like earthquakes and drought.

Of particular interest for Gabriel's case were the stories of vengeful ghosts who returned to seduce men and lead them astray. He could see the sheer breadth of these stories as proof that such a very specific type of spirit must exist, but the truth was that one didn't need to dig far in folklore--as in life--to find examples of men making every excuse possible to explain an extramarital affair. If the folklore was to be believed, half the supernatural creatures in the universe existed solely for the purpose of tricking men into sex.

South Asia had an entire category of succubus ghosts: the churel. These were women who had been mistreated, often by their families, and wreaked vengeance by seducing and "draining" male family members, starting with the youngest. Churels could branch out, though, to find surrogate targets for their rage, and were known to wander lonely roads in search of men. And Venezuela had La Sayona, a beautiful young woman who was wronged by her family and exacted her revenge by seducing men and then either devoured them or "mangled" their genitals.

Female ghosts with long hair and white dresses also seemed a popular motif. China had the nu gui, wronged spirits with long hair and white dresses. Central America had the Sihuanaba, women with long hair and white dresses who would lure men away and turn around to reveal the face of a horse. Then there was the more generic "white lady" always with a tragic tale attached. She could be found around the world, and there were many regional instances where she would appear by a roadside, as the infamous ghostly hitchhiker.

"It would help if I knew what kind of ghost you were hunting," Rose said. "Apparently vengeful, but beyond that...?"