Prologue 4 page

“Bones, fix him. I’ll deal with this asshole.”

Dexter’s barks drowned out the sounds Tyler made as Bones slashed his palm with his fangs, then slapped it over Tyler’s mouth, ripping out the planchette at the same time.

Pieces of the desk suddenly became missiles that pelted the three of us. Bones spun around to take their brunt, shielding Tyler, while I jumped to cover the dog. A pained yelp let me know at least one had nailed Dexter before I got to him. Tyler’s gurgles became wrenching coughs.

“Boy, did you make a colossal fucking mistake,” I snarled, grabbing a piece of the ruined desk. Then I stood up, still blocking the dog from any more objects the ghost could lob at him. He’d materialized enough for me to see white hair swirling around a craggy, wrinkled face. The ghost hadn’t been young when he died, but the shoulders underneath his dark tunic weren’t bowed from age. They were squared in arrogance, and the green eyes boring into mine held nothing but contempt.

“Hure, ” the ghost muttered before thrusting his hand into my neck and squeezing like he was about to choke me. I felt a stronger than normal pins‑and‑needles sensation but didn’t flinch. If this schmuck thought to terrify me with a cheap parlor trick like that, wait until he saw my first abracadabra.

“Heinrich Kramer?” I asked almost as an afterthought. Didn’t matter if it wasn’t him, he would regret what he did, but I wanted to know whose ass I was about to kick.

“Address me as Inquisitor,” the ghost replied in a heavy accent. At least he spoke English; I didn’t know a word of German.

I smiled nastily. “You know that witchcraft you pretended to try and stamp out when you were alive? I’ve got it running all through my veins.” Then I sliced open my wrist with the ragged edge of a piece of desk, blood dripping in slow plops before the wound healed.

If I wanted to summon a legion of regular ghosts to my side, I’d shed tears, but blood, combined with my inner roar of come and get him, boys! was shed to summon a different kind of spectre, all courtesy of my borrowed abilities from New Orleans’ most famous voodoo queen. Cold, seething power streaked through my body, electrifying my nerves and filling the room with an abundance of supernatural energy. The ghost could feel it, too, I could tell. A frown replaced the sneer on his face. Dexter squeaked and limped out of the room.

In the next instant, shadows sprang up from the floor, flinging themselves upon the ghost with all of the hunger that the grave held within it. It wasn’t her expertise with spells or potions that made vampires and ghouls alike fear Marie Laveau. It was her ability to call forth Remnants and bend them to her will, just like I was doing now. As one, the Remnants began to rip through the ghost’s body, eliciting a howl from Kramer that I savored like candy. Remnants fed on pain, and it sounded like the Inquisitor was serving up a banquet. I didn’t know if they could kill the ghost, Kramer lacking the flesh that they could eventually explode, but I was willing to let them do their best to find out.

My wishful thinking was short‑lived, however. Just as abruptly as Kramer appeared, he vanished, leaving the Remnants twining their diaphanous, deadly forms through nothing more substantial than air.

“Come back here!” I yelled.

Nothing stirred except the dozens of Remnants who turned toward me with hazy expressions that all seemed to be asking the same question.

Now what?

Damned if I knew. “Go get him!” I tried, but they only swayed like reeds in a strong wind while their bodies stayed anchored in the demolished room.

Great. I shivered, fighting off the combination of hunger and cold that raising Remnants always brought about. My most lethal, secret weapon couldn’t follow Kramer, and I’d neglected to order him to stay put before I unleashed them on him.

“Wait,” I told the Remnants. Maybe Kramer would spoof back for another assault. I doubted it, but I could hope he’d be that stupid.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Bones, kicking pieces of the desk out of my way to reach the opposite corner of the room.

Bones stood and moved aside, revealing Tyler crouched in a ball on the floor. He clutched his neck, but blood no longer streamed out between his fingers, and his breathing was ragged but unhampered.

“He’ll be fine,” Bones replied. “Just a bit traumatized.”

“I was dead.” Tyler’s voice was no more than a croak. “I saw a bright light, felt myself floating away–”

“You did nothing of the sort,” Bones interrupted. “Your heart didn’t stop once though your larynx was crushed, and you were choking on your own blood.”

“Oh, God,” Tyler moaned.

“Maybe you shouldn’t attempt to reassure him,” I said dryly, fighting a shiver for a different reason. The Remnants tugged on my emotions, the chill and hunger of the grave permeating my defenses.

Bones cast a glance at the Remnants, his mouth curling down. He’d experienced firsthand what they could do when Marie unleashed them on him in order to blackmail me into drinking her blood. To say it hadn’t endeared them to him was putting it mildly, but they couldn’t help themselves. They were like supernatural missiles drawn to whatever target they were pointed at–or whatever target was the closest.

“Pity they didn’t do the trick.”

I lifted my shoulder in an apologetic shrug. “Not their fault. I jumped the gun.”

He gave me a level look. “All of us underestimated what Kramer could do, but we won’t make that mistake again. At least now, we have confirmation of Elisabeth’s claims.”

Oh yeah. I’d say Tyler’s near‑death experience, the wreckage of this office, his injured dog, and my being bulldozed by a desk were all very definitive forms of confirmation.

I sighed, brushing some wood shards off Bones’s shirt. “How long do you want to wait here to see if he comes back?”

“Wait here?” That alarmed Tyler into standing. “Hell no, we’re not waiting here. We’re leaving, and I’m not coming back until that thing is taken care of. Mama didn’t raise no damn fool.”

“He’s not interested in you, Tyler, so there’s no reason he’d come back once we’re gone–”

“You see that Ouija board?” he interrupted me, pointing at pieces littered among the ruins of the desk. “I didn’t get a chance to turn it off before he broke it. That means the gateway’s still open, so no way am I gonna work here while a ghost who’s obviously pissed that I summoned him has a ticket straight to my door. I’ll have my assistant run things for a while. Ghost’s got no issue with him. ”

“Okay, you want us to give you a ride home?” He looked too wound up for me to trust him to drive.

“That’s not safe, either. I’ve opened gateways there before. That ghost could sneak in through one–and I don’t have any vampires in my apartment who can heal me if he tries to kill me again.”

“So where do you want to go? A friend’s house?” Hunger and a bone‑deep inner chill sharpened my tone. Only being a vampire kept my teeth from chattering. I couldn’t wait to cut my connection with the Remnants by sending them back, so I could feel normal again.

Tyler looked at me, then Bones. And smiled.

“No way,” I said, not needing to read his mind to figure out what he intended. “No. Way.”

“Forget it, mate,” Bones replied sternly. “We have enough unwanted guests already without adding one more.”

Tyler’s smile vanished, and he sank to the floor as if our rebuffs had sapped his strength.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay with us,” I said, making my voice a lot kinder because Tyler hadn’t done anything to warrant my snippiness.

“He’s going to find me and kill me,” Tyler said again.

I shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it was too dangerous to leave him on his own. Besides, even though he’d dealt with ghosts long before meeting us, we were the reason one had almost put him in the grave just now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dexter limp over, whining even though he also wagged his stubby tail. Tyler pulled him onto his lap, wincing when the dog let out a sharp cry as his injured leg was jostled.

That was all I could take. I turned to Bones, who was already shaking his head with a distantly jaded expression.

“It’ll just be until we take care of Kramer, and he did say that he knew some people who might be able to off a ghost . . .” I began.

Tyler’s mournful expression vanished as if by magic. He sprang up, still holding the dog.

“Wait right here. It’ll just take me a minute to get my and Dexter’s things.”

Eight

S everal hours later, we pulled into our driveway with two more passengers than we’d left with. Dexter’s left hind leg was secured in a cast, and his eyes were distinctly glassy because of the painkillers the vet had administered.

“This is where you live?” Tyler cast a look around at the steep, forested terrain surrounding our Blue Ridge cabin. “I’m amazed I don’t hear banjo music.”

I ignored the quip, reminding myself that near‑death experiences were very traumatic for people who weren’t used to them. Besides, it wasn’t news to me that our home was in the middle of picturesque nowhere. That had been the intention, so Bones and I would have more privacy. Little did we know that having privacy would prove to be wishful thinking. At least our lack of close neighbors meant Tyler’s thoughts were the only ones inside my head aside from my own.

Dexter let out a low whine, picking his head up. “Are you sure it’s safe?” Tyler asked. “Dexter’s telling me there are ghosts nearby.”

Bones let out a sardonic snort as he got out of the car. “Too right.”

Tyler had mentioned that he could see ghosts, just not right away. I’d better prepare him for life at Casa Russell. My cat had gotten so used to the ghosts here that he almost never hissed at them anymore.

“There are a lot of ghosts here. All friendly,” I hastened to add. “They just, um, like to hang out around our house.”

Liar, Tyler thought, his gaze narrowing. Dexter chuffed like he didn’t believe me, either. Too bad. Only a select handful of people knew why I was so popular with ghosts, and it wasn’t information I was about to share.

“Maybe we built on a former burial ground, and that’s why this place is such a hot spot,” I improvised as I got out. “You know. Like in Poltergeist. ”

Lying her pasty white ass off , Tyler thought, but smiled blandly. “Could be, sugar.”

I debated telling Tyler that Bones wasn’t the only one who could read minds, but decided not to. For all that we’d brought Tyler home with us, we still didn’t know him. Getting a peek into his thoughts would go miles toward determining if he was someone we could trust. I didn’t perceive him as a threat, but we still had to be careful. We’d already taken a risk by showing him where we lived, but that information could be erased from his memory if need be.

Who was I kidding? With how vigilant Bones was about my safety, he would probably insist on doing that regardless of how trustworthy Tyler proved to be.

“Go on inside, I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, heaving a mental sigh as I spread out my hands and waited for the barrage of transparent greeters. I still felt off kilter from summoning the Remnants, but it wouldn’t be fair to march into the house without saying hello in the manner that my ghostly acquaintances preferred.

Tyler gave me a strange look but hefted Dexter and went into the house. Five minutes later, my hands tingling, I did as well. Bones wasn’t in sight, but I could hear him upstairs on the phone with Spade, and his tone was less than pleased. That’s right, honey, give him hell, I thought wryly.

I found Tyler in the kitchen, checking out my refrigerator’s contents with dismay.

“I know you’re both vampires, but a few packets of cheese and some tonic water can’t be all you have.”

“I’ll go shopping tomorrow, but you’ll have to make do with some canned soups and crackers from the pantry in the meantime.” It was not like we’d been expecting company, and I didn’t feel like driving forty minutes to get to the grocery store tonight. It would probably close before I arrived, anyway.

Fabian floated up to me, leaning down near my ear.

“I don’t know if I like this man,” he whispered. “He made a comment questioning your decorating skills upon entering, and now he disparages your hospitality. He won’t be staying long, will he?”

“If we’re lucky, no,” I replied. Tyler’s staying a long time would mean we’d failed to stop Kramer, not to mention wreaking havoc on my patience. Neither option was acceptable to me.

Fabian frowned. “Are you well, Cat? You look tired.”

“I’ll be fine after a shower.” A lingering chill still clung to me, and the thought of banishing that under a steady stream of hot water sounded heavenly.

My cat chose that moment to come sauntering down the stairs but stopped short when he spotted Dexter. The dog spotted him, too. He got to his feet–the three that worked, that is–and wagged his tail while emitting a friendly‑sounding chuff.

Helsing hissed, his dark hair fluffing out to stand on end. That hiss turned into a garbled, extended growl, with a distinctly threatening undertone while his ears went flat.

“No, no. Be a nice kitty!” I ordered. Poor Dexter had stopped cold and cringed even though he outweighed my cat by about thirty pounds.

Helsing’s growl ended with a final hiss before he turned to give me a look that could best be summed up as A dog? How could you? Then he ran back up the stairs, tail twitching in agitation the whole way.

Okay, so no one was thrilled about our new guests, but it was only temporary.

“Ohhhh,” Tyler drew out, staring to my right. “You’ve got a ghost floating next to you.”

“You can see me?” Fabian asked in surprise.

I left the kitchen to start closing the drapes. “Tyler, meet my friend, Fabian. Fabian, this is Tyler, the medium we went to see today. Things didn’t go as planned, but we’ll get into that after I take a shower . . . and pet my cat until he forgives me.”

A fter a blissfully long, hot shower–and some groveling to my cat that I doubted Helsing understood–I came downstairs to find Tyler on the couch, wearing nothing but my favorite blue robe.

“My clothes are in the wash, and it was this or a towel,” he said with a shrug.

Of course Tyler would want to change out of his bloody outfit. I should’ve thought to offer him some of Bones’s clothes. “Sorry, I’ll get you something else to wear.”

His casual wave stopped me from heading back upstairs. “This is fine for now.”

Fabian buzzed over to me, almost twitching in anxiety. “It is unseemly that he wears your robe, Cat!”

I bit back a laugh at the ghost’s scandalized tone. Nineteenth‑century formalities must be hard to shake even after death.

Tyler shot Fabian a patient look. “Keep your panties on, ghostfriend, it’s only temporary.”

Fabian threw up his hands. “You see? He is incorrigible!”

“We’ll get him some proper clothes straightaway,” Bones reassured Fabian as he descended the stairs.

“Elisabeth, the man in the robe is Tyler,” I introduced when I saw Tyler’s gaze fasten on her, finally noticing her after a few minutes. “Tyler, meet Elisabeth, but don’t mention her to any ghosts aside from Fabian. She’s kind of hiding out here.”

Tyler smiled. “Charmed to meet another refugee like me.”

Elisabeth looked a little confused, but she curtsied, reminding me that I wanted to learn how to do that as gracefully as she.

“Tyler’s hiding from Kramer, too,” I said in explanation.

“Oh.” Her face pinched with compassion. “You poor man.”

“Finally, some genuine sympathy.” He patted the spot next to him. “Sit here, sweetie, and tell me all about yourself.”

“Um, you and Elisabeth can chat later. You mentioned people who might be able to help with Kramer. Do you mean another medium?” I prodded him.

“You are hell and gone from anything a medium can do. Good mediums can open gateways, summon and commune with spirits, clean a house of presences, and sometimes help a ghost cross to the other side. What you’ve got is a nasty, free‑range phantom that can poltergeist like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“We told you that,” Bones pointed out.

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I wish I’d listened, but that’s what most people say. I had no idea you’d be the only ones telling it like it was, and you weren’t sure yourselves, either. No medium can help you, but maybe the best damn ghost hunters money can buy will be able to.”

“Yeah, well, I hear Bill Murray and the gang don’t do that anymore,” I countered in growing frustration.

He waved a hand. “Not the Hollywood version. The real ones, and lucky for you, I happen to know some.”

“Give us their names and how to contact them,” Bones directed.

Tyler’s look grew pointed. “I’ll set up a meeting and go with you. Otherwise, just like me, they won’t believe how powerful that ghost is until it’s too late, and you might not be fast enough to save all of them.”

My inner cynic calculated the odds of ghost hunters being able to help us at twenty to one . . . in Kramer’s favor. Still, I’d sworn that I would try to see the silver lining instead of only the ominous clouds, so I fetched my cell phone from the counter and handed it to Tyler.

“Make the call.”

Tyler rose. “Right after I take a piss.”

Once he disappeared into the bathroom, Bones spoke very softly. “Keep trying to tail Kramer, Elisabeth. If there’s a particular place he frequents, or any humans he’s attentive to, I want to know.”

Bones must not have high hopes for the ghost hunters, either. Elisabeth nodded solemnly. “I saw him earlier today. He was not far from the largest ley line in Iowa, at Oktoberfest in Sioux City, but he left quickly. Too quickly for me to see if he’d been interacting with any humans.”

“What time was this, do you know?” Bones asked, suspicion edging his emotions.

“Right after midday,” she replied.

One‑ish Iowa time would’ve been about 2:00 P.M. in Washington, D.C. Right about the same time that Tyler broke out the Ouija board.

“I think Kramer left in a hurry because he got a page,” I said wryly.

Bones’s gaze was speculative before he returned his attention to Elisabeth.

“Keep trying to find him, then follow him when you do, but don’t let him tail you back here.”

I knew how important it was for Elisabeth to find out who Kramer’s intended victims were, not to mention the identity of his human accomplice; but after meeting the former Inquisitor, I really didn’t want him to know where we lived. Sure, I could summon Remnants to our defense if Kramer tracked Elisabeth back here despite her best efforts, but what if he snapped Tyler’s neck before I sicced the Remnants on him? Even if I were fast in calling forth my spectral guards, it only took a split second to kill a human, as I well knew.

And sometimes, it only took a split second to kill a vampire, too. We had plenty of silver knives at our house, for obvious reasons. What if the malevolent ghost poltergeisted one of those through Bones’s heart before either of us even knew he was near? I shivered at the thought.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Bones asked, his sharp gaze picking it up.

I forced a smile. No more what‑if thoughts of worst‑case scenarios. Silver linings and glasses half‑full, remember?

“Nothing.”

Nine

A huge building loomed in front of us, dark exterior looking ominous even with the many gold‑edged leaves on the trees surrounding the grounds. Hundreds of windows reflected the moonlight as if in stark rejection of any illumination penetrating the structure’s interior. Every so often, shadows would pass by those windows, and voices would drift out on the crisp autumn air, but the former hospital was empty.

Well, empty of anyone who was solid. All the members of N.I.P.D., the Northeastern Investigative Paranormal Division that Tyler had recommended, were still outside with us. They’d just finished setting up their equipment in various rooms of the former Waverly Hills Sanatorium. Now they were huddled up in a final group pep talk before they started their documentation of everything that went bump in the night here.

The sanatorium might have closed decades ago, but it was quite the popular attraction, as it turned out. The curious paid for guided tours of the facility, hearing all about its history and the many anecdotes of ghostly encounters. Amateur or professional paranormal buffs could opt to have the hospital all to themselves for a night of investigation, provided they paid the proper amount and booked in advance. Waverly Hills Sanatorium had a waiting list, and the owners didn’t give refunds if a group missed its scheduled appointment.

That was why Bones and I were meeting the investigators–they didn’t like the term “ghost hunters,” as it turned out–here instead of at a local coffee shop or somewhere else normal. They’d planned their evening at Waverly weeks ago and weren’t about to lose their time slot–or their money–just to talk to Tyler’s new clients, as they considered Bones and me. For our part, we weren’t willing to waste another day and night before finding out if they could help with Kramer. After Tyler set up our chat, we hopped in the car for a road trip to Louisville, Kentucky. Taking a plane would have been faster, but we weren’t about to go anywhere unarmed, and airport security frowned on suitcases filled with a stockpile of weapons.

Tyler refused to leave Dexter behind, saying the dog would give us precious seconds of warning if Kramer was about to spoof up. Dexter did seem to have an uncanny radar for ghosts; he’d begun to whine in that eerie way of his as soon as we pulled up to the sanitarium. By comparison, it took Tyler a few minutes after we arrived to even see the shadows passing by the windows. Of the two of them, I had to admit that Dexter seemed to be the more qualified medium. Maybe Spade’s demonologist friends really recommended Dexter, and the message somehow got garbled, I thought ruefully.

“Let’s get this party started!” Chris, N.I.P.D.’s team leader, finished his pep talk with.

“Finally,” Bones muttered, too low for anyone but me to overhear.

We’d promised not to start with our questions until all of their prep work was done, having been told that setting up was too crucial for distractions. Little did we know how much prep work they were talking about. We’d been standing outside for a good two hours. If left to himself, Bones might have green‑eyed Chris and the others into forgetting about their set‑up‑first conditions, but he knew I would have objected to that. We were here because we wanted their help, not the other way around. Besides, two hours of polite waiting wasn’t going to make or break our circumstances with Kramer.

Unless he showed up soon in another murderous mood.

“So,” Chris said, sizing us up as he approached. I didn’t mind that he’d barely glanced our way before this. All his attention had been on making sure his team was prepared, and that was a plus in my book. “What’s this big, urgent issue that Tyler tells me can’t wait until tomorrow?”

Bones glanced at the van with N.I.P.D. painted on the side, the endless cords for their equipment, and the dozen team members bustling about before he replied.

“You doing this because you truly believe in activity on the other side, or because you want to make a bit of profit off the gullible?”

Chris bristled, his cheeks becoming ruddier above his beard while his scent flared with anger. That wasn’t what I paid attention to. It was his spate of thoughts.

So sick of dealing with ignorant pricks who can’t see beyond what society tells them to believe. Never should’ve agreed to let Tyler bring them here tonight; we’ve got too much work to do.

“I have a Master of Science in Engineering from Stanford, so I can make more money with a hell of a lot less effort in about a hundred different fields,” he replied evenly. “If that doesn’t answer your question, then you’re wasting my time.”

Satisfaction flitted across the edge of my emotions. Someone smart who was passionate about his work and dedicated to his team was more than I’d hoped for. Maybe Tyler had hit a home run directing us here.

“Make sure you do EVPs and take lots of pictures on five,” Chris called out to a young woman who hurried past us.

I glanced up toward the sixth floor, where I’d seen the most shadows pass by the windows. This facility primarily contained residual ghosts; brief, repeating snapshots of people who had long since passed on, no more sentient than a splice of frames from a film reel. Judging by the levels of energy emanating from the building, a couple sentient spirits also called Waverly Hills home, but they didn’t stick to one place in this huge facility. The sixth floor would yield the best chance for pictures of unexplainable shadows or orbs. Not anything that would make headline news, but at least it’d be something tangible that Chris’s group could take home with them. They’d rented this place for the night; might as well help steer them into getting their money’s worth.

“Try six instead,” I suggested. “You’ll have better luck.”

Chris’s gaze narrowed. “Five has had more reported cases of incidents,” he countered.

I smiled blandly. “Six will net you more solid data, but hey. It’s your show.”

Chris looked at Tyler, who nodded in confirmation. Bones just folded his arms, his coolly detached expression revealing nothing. The young woman balanced her tripod camera on her hip, and I didn’t need to tap into her thoughts to know it was heavy. Chris gave a last, musing glance at me before he spoke again.

“Start on six first, Lexie.”

Fucking tourists should just keep their mouths shut, Lexie thought, but her “sure thing!” was as cheerful as it was false. I wasn’t offended. She could take orders and knew when to keep her opinions to herself. Again my hopes lifted about this group.

“Follow me,” Chris said after a measured silence. “We’ll talk while I work.”

W e had covered most of the first floor by the time I finished telling Chris what we were looking for, and why. He kept his verbal comments to a minimum; but from his thoughts, Chris had trouble believing who Kramer was, not to mention the extent of the Inquisitor’s abilities. Just like Tyler predicted. That was okay. Two sentient–and chatty–ghosts had been not‑so‑stealthily following me from the moment I crossed through Waverly Hills’ doors. From their matching, dated clothes, I deduced that they were former patients of the facility. Their comments to each other revealed that since they’d died, they liked to pass the time by playing pranks on visitors, especially ghost investigators. Perfect.

I waited until Chris paused in front of what looked like a large, lengthy tunnel before I put my plan into action.

“You, hiding behind the support beam, what’s your name?” I said to the ghost currently skulking a few yards off. He came out with a “busted” expression on his filmy countenance, twisting the edges of his long‑sleeved, pale pajamas.

“Herbert.”

“Who are you talking to?” Chris wondered, looking in that direction but, of course, seeing no one.

“One of Waverly’s former residents,” I replied, thinking the ghost was too young and cute to be named Herbert. “Can you do me a favor, Herbert? Fly through the bearded man’s body. Only the bearded man.”

Herbert obeyed without hesitation. Dexter barked once at the ghost’s zooming approach, but before Chris finished muttering, “What kind of joke is this?” the ghost dove right through his upper torso and appeared out on the other side.

Chris stood absolutely still. Thoughts skidded across his mind almost too fast for me to read. Guts feel cold. Tingly, but she couldn’t actually be able to direct a ghost to do what she wants, could she? No fuckin’ way.

“Stomach feels a bit unusual? A little icy and shivery, maybe?” I asked softly.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Ooh, that looks fun!” the other ghost cried, abandoning his attempt at hiding in the ceiling ducts to dive through Chris’s upper right side. More chaos sounded in Chris’s mind. Dexter barked again.

“You just had that same icy, prickling feeling in your right shoulder this time,” I said in a matter‑of‑fact way. “There’s another ghost in the room, and he’s a little playful. But if you need more proof that this isn’t a coincidence, I can tell them to do more demonstrations.”

The word “no” resounded in his mind, but Chris swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yeah. One more.”

Had to admire his courage. Chris might have studied paranormal phenomena and believed in ghosts for years, but I knew firsthand that having a ghost repeatedly bullet through your flesh was an unsettling experience.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 1036