This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)
This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)
This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)
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And being so close, <strong>the</strong>y could hear everything I said. No point in having Fabian relay a message for me.<br />
“Alrighty, <strong>the</strong>n . . .” I sighed, leaving <strong>the</strong> room to look for <strong>the</strong> front door. After living with Fabian for almost a year, I knew that showing ghosts <strong>the</strong><br />
same respect I’d show a living—or undead—person went a long way toward winning brownie points with a species that was routinely ignored.<br />
Bones followed me, pointing to <strong>the</strong> left with a resigned look on his face. At least he didn’t argue about what he’d obviously guessed I was about<br />
to do. I went out <strong>the</strong> front door and saw <strong>the</strong> many diaphanous forms twirling around <strong>the</strong> trees at <strong>the</strong> end <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> driveway. I couldn’t see any o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
houses nearby, but having been in several <strong>of</strong> Mencheres’s homes, I recognized this as one <strong>of</strong> his typical, large, <strong>of</strong>f-<strong>the</strong>-beaten-path locations. In<br />
fact, with <strong>the</strong> steep hills, occasional rocks jutting through <strong>the</strong> landscape, and woods nearby, it reminded me <strong>of</strong> my home in <strong>the</strong> Blue Ridge. Like<br />
Bones and I, Mencheres didn’t want to increase his chances <strong>of</strong> having nosy neighbors get in on his business.<br />
“Hi,” I said to <strong>the</strong> group. A flurry <strong>of</strong> activity commenced as at least two dozen hazy apparitions stopped what <strong>the</strong>y were doing and zoomed over to<br />
<strong>the</strong> front porch, hovering around it like <strong>the</strong> coolest Halloween decorations ever. I was amazed at <strong>the</strong> range <strong>of</strong> eras <strong>the</strong> ghosts represented, like a<br />
snapshot <strong>of</strong> history in a glance. Out <strong>of</strong> outfits I could recognize, I saw one had on what looked like a Union army uniform while ano<strong>the</strong>r wore<br />
Confederate gray and saffron. One was shirtless with buckskin leggings, ano<strong>the</strong>r was a woman in full Victorian gear, two wore sailors’ gear,<br />
ano<strong>the</strong>r was in a twenties flapper dress, a few looked straight out <strong>of</strong> a fifties movie, and a few more might have been cowboys. Only two looked like<br />
<strong>the</strong>y were from my time, judging from <strong>the</strong> cut and style <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir clo<strong>the</strong>s.<br />
All we need is some spooky music, a full moon, and a few bats for this to be perfect, I thought irreverently.<br />
“Hi,” I repeated, trying to meet each ghostly gaze at least once so <strong>the</strong>y’d all feel included in my speech. “My friend Fabian tells me that some <strong>of</strong><br />
you might have just . . . ended up here even though you’re not sure why or how,” I went on. “Normally I’d say that’s fine. The more <strong>the</strong> merrier, but<br />
I’ve got some stuff going on that makes you guys hanging out, um, potentially problematic for me.”<br />
I was starting to doubt <strong>the</strong> wisdom behind this idea, seeing some <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> ghosts exchange confused glances with each o<strong>the</strong>r. Fabian rested his<br />
hand over mine, <strong>the</strong> outline <strong>of</strong> his nonexistent flesh merging with my skin in <strong>the</strong> closest he could come to an encouraging pat. I squared my<br />
shoulders. I’d come this far, might as well plunge ahead and see if <strong>the</strong> power I hadn’t wanted to absorb from Marie could be used to help me now.<br />
“So while I’d love to see you all again in <strong>the</strong> future, right now, I need you guys to go,” I said, putting force into <strong>the</strong> words to make <strong>the</strong>m more than a<br />
request. “Please don’t follow me, even if you feel like you should. I also need you not to repeat anything I just said, or anything that you might have<br />
overheard before. I know you’ll do this for me, because ghosts are an honorable species, and—” Oh crap, I was just babbling now, and this wasn’t<br />
working. None <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>m even moved. “—and it would really help me out,” I finished lamely.<br />
Ghost Whisperer, my ass, an inner voice seemed to mock me.<br />
Nothing but silence from <strong>the</strong> spectres. Silence, and complete immobility. My hopes sank. Whatever I’d absorbed from Marie’s power over <strong>the</strong><br />
dead, it didn’t appear to be <strong>the</strong> ability to make ghosts leave if <strong>the</strong>y didn’t want to. Ei<strong>the</strong>r I didn’t know how to channel her powers properly when it<br />
came to regular spooks versus Remnants, or maybe <strong>the</strong>re was a special code word she knew that I didn’t—<br />
All at once, <strong>the</strong> ghosts simply vanished into thin air. I’d seen Fabian do <strong>the</strong> same several times, but it looked a lot more eerie when it was dozens<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>m dematerializing simultaneously. Even <strong>the</strong>ir energy faded from <strong>the</strong> air, leaving behind only <strong>the</strong> s<strong>of</strong>t caress <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> evening breeze to waft along<br />
my skin.<br />
Chapter Nineteen<br />
Quite impressive,” Bones said from behind me.<br />
I turned around to smile at him, relieved that it worked, only to notice that Fabian, too, was now gone.<br />
“Fabian!” I exclaimed.<br />
He materialized in front <strong>of</strong> me moments later, an expectant look on his face.<br />
“What can I do for you?”<br />
Guilt stabbed through me. If he was making that <strong>of</strong>fer <strong>of</strong> his own free will, it would be fine, but Marie’s blood changed <strong>the</strong> balance between us.<br />
Friends shouldn’t be able to compel <strong>the</strong>ir friends into doing things whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y wanted to or not.<br />
“Fabian, you don’t have to do anything for me,” I told him. “You can make up your own mind about what you want to do or not do.”<br />
“Whatever you say,” he replied, still looking at me expectantly.<br />
A stifled snort came from Bones. Okay, so this wasn’t as easy as it looked. Damn Marie for making me drink her voodoo juju blood.<br />
“I order you to do only what you want to do,” I tried again, more strongly this time.<br />
Now a slight frown stitched between his brows. “I’ve made you angry. Tell me what to do to make you happy again.”<br />
I threw up my hands even as Bones’s snort became a full-blown laugh. “Kitten, I’m sure <strong>the</strong>re’s a way to fix this in <strong>the</strong> future, but right now, we’ve