This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

matter. All I knew was that the man I loved was being tormented, and even though I was in the same fucking room, I couldn’t help him.
I wasn’t surprised when a dull thrum slowly began to sound in my chest. Marie’s eyebrows rose, but she looked more curious than startled.
Hatred surged through me at how calmly she sat there, directing all this mayhem as though it were a puppet show. I’d whipped out two knives from
my boots and flung them at her before even planning the action, only to let out a scream of frustration when they were batted away by the wall of
ghosts without even grazing her.
I threw myself against that spectral barrier next, determined to make her pay, but no matter how many times I bashed against that writhing wall of
otherworldly bodyguards, I couldn’t force my way past them. Worse, it seemed to weaken me, replacing my rage with the same dizzying lethargy I’d
only felt the day Bones drained all my blood to change me. After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, I couldn’t even stand.
Despair choked me as my legs gave out. The unearthly keening in the room seemed to grow louder in triumph.
“You can’t win against them,” Marie stated, her voice still echoing in that creepy way. “These aren’t ghosts. They’re Remnants, slivers of the most
primal emotions left over after someone crosses over to the other side. Every time you touch them, they feed from your energy and pain just like a
vampire feeds from blood, and they grow stronger.”
Almost in a daze, I stared at the concrete floor. Nothing marred it except cracks and mildew stains, but I’d seen something similar to these
Remnants when Mencheres raised wraiths in retaliation for a vicious spell against him. Even though those had looked like ghosts, too, they were
utterly lethal, cutting through dozens of vampires like a hot knife through butter.
And these Remnants seemed just as strong.
“Did you work the spell before we got here?” I forced myself to ask, even though talking seemed to suck the last bits of strength from me.
“Where’d you hide the symbols?”
Her laugh resounded around the room. “I need no spell. I don’t practice black magic; I am black magic.”
Normally I’d say something caustic about how pride always went before a fall, but considering I was the barely conscious one on the ground, I
didn’t think the insult would have the same effect.
“What are you waiting for, Reaper?” Marie asked calmly, glancing at Bones. “If they continue to feed from him for much longer, eventually they will
kill him. If you want him freed from the Remnants, unleash these great abilities of yours. Show me fire, or move this glass even an inch, and I will
send them back to their graves.”
I stared at her, my heart still sputtering out sporadic beats due to my fear and fury, noting every speck of her appearance as though the details
could help me defeat her. Those large dark eyes, smooth ageless skin, and full wide mouth framed by black hair that barely brushed the lace shawl
covering her tailored navy dress. Everything about Marie looked modern and normal right down to her sensible yet stylish heels, but this woman
was the most dangerous adversary I’d ever encountered. I’d thought only Mencheres could wield enough power to clean my and Bones’s clock
without even getting up from his seat, but here was Marie, doing that very thing. Her ability to control these Remnants must be what Apollyon was
counting on to make the difference in a war between ghouls and vampires, and I had to admit; it was a damn frightening sight.
I looked at Bones. His face was still contorted, pain blasting across my subconscious like rounds from a machine gun, but though his mouth
moved, not a word came from him. Not only could Marie direct the Remnants to hold him against the wall, but she could also make them keep him
from speaking. Rage gave a flare of energy to my limbs, making me drag myself to my feet as I faced her.
“We both know if I had any of those abilities left in me, I’d be decorating the walls with your bloody, smoldering remains right now,” I said, wishing
I had the stamina to sound more threatening. “I only picked up those powers for a short time when I drank from Vlad and Mencheres.”
Satisfaction flitted across her features before they became smooth again. “Like a Mambo,” she said, drawing out the unfamiliar word. “In my sect
of voodoo, select Mambos drank from blood sprinkled with Zombi’s essence to absorb the god’s powers over the dead—temporarily. When I was
changed into a ghoul, those powers became permanent, and increased more than anyone could imagine.”
“Get those things off Bones and you can tell me all about it,” I gritted out. Marie had confirmation of her suspicions about my power source, but
we were still alive, so she must want something from us. I didn’t need a Magic 8 Ball to know if she wanted us dead, we’d be nothing but shriveling
heaps in this dingy room by now.
Her hazelnut gaze met mine, no mercy in their depths as she held out the glass filled with her blood. “Drink this or he dies.”
I looked into her eyes and knew, down to my soul, that she wasn’t bluffing. No matter that I feared what would happen when I drank from that
glass, I’d drain it dry to save Bones.
A swipe of my hand indicated the wall of Remnants between us. “Let me through.”
Her brow ticked up, and then a path appeared amidst the mass of transparent bodies. I went through that chasm, refusing to look at Bones in
case by gesture or mime he’d try to tell me not to do what I was about to. It won’t affect you, won’t affect you, I repeated like a litany as I took the
glass from Marie’s outstretched hand and then tipped it to my mouth, swallowing deeply.
Relief swept through me at the bitter, cloying taste, so different from vampire blood. If I didn’t like it, then it couldn’t have the same effect as
vampire blood did, because that tasted like ambrosia to me. I let the glass drop from my hand once it was empty, feeling small, petty satisfaction to
see it shatter upon impact. I was pissed enough at Marie to want to see her in tiny pieces on the floor, too, but right now, I’d settle for imagining the
glittering shards of crystal were bits of her corpse.