This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

This as Vlad continued to laugh the whole time I went up the stairs. At least he seemed in a better mood after his near-death experience, even if
his new cheer was at my expense. Arrogant Romanian. But considering I’d been responsible for Vlad’s recent brush with death, maybe he was
owed a little masculine mockery. All things considered, his teasing was the least I could bear to make it up to him.
As for Mencheres, well, here’s hoping he chalked that up to equality. He’d seen me in less than my underwear before, so if all things were fair, I
was owed that glance.
Besides, it had to be nothing more than a manifestation of the “future twinges” from her power that Marie had warned Bones about. In my right
mind, I would never check out Vlad or—God help me!—Mencheres’s packages.
And neither of them was wearing tight pants, so it’s not like I could discern anything specific, anyway.
Once I was in my room, however, I didn’t jump right in to the shower. I pulled out my cell phone, pinpricks of conscience still needling me.
“Bones,” I said as soon as he answered. “I know I just saw you this morning, but wow, do I miss you!”
Three days later, I was on the couch, scratching my cat in his favorite spot behind the ears, when a faint tingle in the air made me look up. I’d
gotten better at recognizing the telltale signs that said a ghost who was strong enough to get through my stinky force field of weed and garlic was
about to pop up nearby.
“Visitor,” I announced, my new way for giving Vlad and Mencheres a heads-up to stop saying anything possibly incriminating. To my knowledge,
my order for silence to other ghosts had worked before, but no need to tempt fate by blathering about which bar we were headed to tonight.
Not that it probably mattered. We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any zealot ghouls since the night at the drive-in. Maybe having some of their group
go missing spooked the other ghouls into avoiding popular hangouts. Or maybe the reason we hadn’t seen any of them lately was much simpler. All
of Apollyon’s minions were being supplied with food, so they didn’t need to go out hunting for it. Still, we kept going out night after night. Dave said
Scythe and the pack of ghouls who drew him into their group were still here. They had to pop up sometime.
A shadowy form passed through the door moments later, still too hazy for me to make out any specific features. Then that outline of fogginess
settled into a slim man with brown hair and early twentieth-century sideburns.
“Fabian!” I said, my initial happiness replaced by fear when I saw the grimness in his expression. “Is Dave okay?” I asked immediately.
“For the moment,” the ghost almost sighed. “But he’s thinking of doing something very foolish.”
I stood up, my cat hissing at being jostled from my lap. “What?”
“Letting himself get caught spying,” Fabian replied.
Mencheres and Vlad came downstairs. I shot them a bleak look, already starting to pull on my boots. “We need to go get Dave, now,” I told them.
“Is he intending to do this in the next hour?” Mencheres asked, putting a calming hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t believe so.” Fabian gave me a helpless look. “Dave doesn’t know I’m telling you. He made me promise not to, until he was caught. But I
swore to you that I’d protect him, and I couldn’t betray that vow, even though I’m now betraying him by telling you.”
“You’re not betraying him, you’re saving him,” I replied with all the emphasis of countless past bad decisions. “Sometimes, people think there’s
no other option aside from sacrificing themselves, but that doesn’t mean they’re right. Now, why does Dave all of a sudden think he needs to jump
on a grenade for us? What happened?”
“He was taken to an unscheduled rally last night where Scythe told everyone he was leaving Memphis because his work here was done. He
urged his followers to remain here, staying true to their beliefs, because soon, their movement would spread enough that they could openly act
against vampires.”
“Fuck,” I moaned, to Vlad’s grumbled agreement. With every new city these ghouls went to, they continued to infect others with their hatred.
Scythe might be higher up in Apollyon’s organization, but he wasn’t alone in his efforts to spread his leader’s paranoia. Worse, we didn’t know
which area these groups picked to settle in next until vampire bodies piling up pointed the way, and by then, it was already too late. The old saying
that the best offense was a good defense didn’t do much to soothe me when it came to a game with stakes this high.
I didn’t know what Scythe’s definition of “soon” was as far as an open uprising. To the undead, “soon” could be weeks, or a few years to a
decade. But whatever the time frame, I couldn’t allow him and Apollyon to meet that goal. Dave knew how dangerous that would be, too, which was
why he was considering something as risky as deliberately getting caught.
“Dave’s banking on being brought to an interrogator who might know where Apollyon is. So when you tell me, Mencheres, and Vlad where he is,
we arrive in time to save him and nab the bad guys, right?” I asked.
The ghost nodded miserably. “Yes.”
Vlad’s brows drew together in contemplation even as I snapped, “No way.”
“It’s an acceptable risk,” he insisted quietly.