The brass spun in my palm, the door opening in her eagerness for details.
“He’s hunting the weirdo that’s been hanging around in our backyard.” I should have outed Ambrose to him, but there hadn’t been time. And, okay, I owed Linus one last chance at explaining their connection before involving the authorities. “He wants to meet at Forsyth Park.”
The floor register exhaled a dreamy sigh that had me rolling my eyes.
I called Linus, but it dumped straight to voicemail. Exiting Woolly, I made the trek across the garden, already certain of what I would discover. I knocked, and no one answered. I called out, and no one answered. I kicked the door, and no one answered. Sensing a theme, I braced my forehead against the wood and debated my options.
“Far be it from me to interrupt, but can I perhaps be of assistance? Whatever it is you want, the door is in no position to give it to you.”
That voice.
I whirled, putting the door at my back. “Ambrose.”
Cletus materialized in front of me, a shield forged of churning nightmares, and hissed at the garish interloper.
“Ah, she remembers.” He kept to the far end of the garden, where the deepest shadows clung, but the living flame masquerading as hair cast flickering light across the sharp planes of his face, too bright for Cletus to douse. “You remember so little, I’m flattered I made the cut.”
The barb struck, but it was a flesh wound. I’d suffered worse. “You’re trespassing.”
“Oh, I think not.” He chuckled, and the sound was made of sparkling moonlight. “What is it you want, little goddess?”
After swatting Cletus aside, I bared down on Ambrose. “Where is Linus?”
The angle of his jaw hid the cut of his smile. “Unavailable.”
The sound of my molars grinding ought to have warned him of my mood. “When will he be back?”
Ambrose cocked his head. “Do you want him back so badly?”
“We need to talk.” About you I left unsaid.
“Alas, I am not his keeper. I do so hate leaving a woman unsatisfied, but I fear I must.”
Turning on his heel, he marched toward a section of fence like he planned on walking right through.
“Wait.”
“No.” Ambrose halted the length of a heartbeat and glanced over his shoulder. Dawn bathed his face in reds and oranges that sparked off his hair, and my first unobstructed look at him made my heart stutter. His flame-bright hair crackled, and the blue of his irises tipped into black while he stared at me, but what caught my eye was a cluster of freckles under his left eye that formed the petals of a daisy. “You have no power over me.”
I took a halting step after him. “What are you?”
“The night eternal.”
And then he was gone.
And I had my answer.
Ambrose was the devourer. And, upon a second viewing, I was certain of his identity.
Oh, Linus. What have you done?
I retreated to Woolly and slumped on the front steps. I couldn’t resist checking the carriage house one last time before I set out for the park, but Linus hadn’t returned. Neither had Ambrose. Though I supposed one couldn’t very well travel without the other.
Forsyth Park was rousing itself when I arrived. Runners mostly. Some joggers. A gaggle of elderly power-walkers. All eager to clock their miles before it got too hot. I was sweaty, and I hadn’t done anything but stroll beneath the moss-hung oaks down the walkway leading to one of the city’s most iconic sites.
The cast-iron fountain burbled happily despite the hour, a pristine white that popped bright against the dark foliage of the surrounding trees. The robed woman atop its upper tier gripped her staff and held court high above the other denizens of the park. Wading birds and rushes lurked beneath the curling lip above which the figure stood. In the basin, swans spouted water over their heads while mermen blasted water from the shell horns lifted to their mouths.
I stood there a moment, gripping the black wrought iron railing circling the fountain until it bit into my hands, enjoying the cool spray on my face.
Hello, procrastination, my old friend.
I pushed off the fence and made my way to the playground. I didn’t have to look far for Boaz. It was hard to miss him decked out in black tactical gear even if he hadn’t been sitting in a swing that looked ready to cry uncle.
“I was starting to think I’d been stood up.” He patted his lap. “Do you remember how?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I walked up to him, so close our knees bumped. “That chain is about to snap from holding you. I’m not adding my weight too.”
“Aww, come on.” His eyes twinkled. “For old time’s sake.”
“I know this game.” I tsked at him. “You just want to get your boy bits near my girl bits.”
“Maybe.”
“Do not tell your sister I fell for this.” Saying no when he was being playful had never been my strong suit. “She’ll never let me live it down.”
He mimed zipping his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I got a death grip on the chains above his head and lifted myself up, letting him thread my legs to either side of his hips so that I sat in his lap, facing him. “This was a lot easier when I was ten.”
Boaz started rocking us, his hands fisting the chain below mine. “It’s a lot more fun now, though.”
“Is that what this is? Fun?” I darted a glance at the frame above us. “I feel like the chains will snap at any moment.”
“I won’t let you fall.” He linked his arms around my waist. “See? Snug as a bug.”
I cleared my throat, striving for a casual tone that was impossible with him wedged between my thighs. “So you’re in town to stake out the Cora Ann.”
He just smiled. “Am I?”
“Yes, you are.” I traced the shape of his lips with my finger, thrilled that I could, that he let me. “You’re using Timmy as bait to lure the devourer.”
“You lost me.” His forehead creased. “Who’s Timmy?”
“The ghost boy marooned on the Cora Ann.”
“Ah. Him.” He snapped his teeth at my finger, and I squeaked. “You really should talk to a doctor about that whistling sound your nose makes.”
I cradled my hand against my chest. “Stop trying to distract me.”
“Spoilsport.” He sighed. “Savannah is experiencing a flux of energy that led the Society to believe a dybbuk had manifested. We got confirmation when it stepped up its game from extinguishing spectral hotspots to devouring ghosts to desiccating vampires.”
“Vampires,” I echoed, as in more than one.
“You don’t sound surprised.” His gaze sharpened. “What do you know about this?”
I divulged what Amelie had overheard and waited on him to thunder about eavesdropping, but he appeared to be on his best behavior. Too bad I was about to poke him in a tender spot. “One of the deaths implicates your aunt. Doesn’t that make this a conflict of interest for you?”
“Desmond Peterkin was the third victim.” He studied me. “I was already on the case by the time he was killed.”
“Dybbuk are possessed necromancers.” I studied him right back. “That means you’re hunting one of our own.”
“My duty, as an Elite, is to protect the Society and all its members. Even if I’m protecting it from itself.”
I gripped the chains for support. “Do you have any idea who you’re hunting?”
“Grier,” he groaned my name like a curse. “Your white-knuckled grip tells me you already know or think you do. Spill, Squirt.”
While the Society might look the other way when ghost lights extinguished, vampires were paying customers. The Society was built upon their ability to deliver the promise of immortality. Necromancers didn’t play around when it came to money. One refund could dent a reputation. More than one could sink a family for centuries.
Not even a Lawson was immune from crimes of this magnitude.
“I met a man calling himself Ambrose in my garden,” I said softly. “He was wearing one of Linus’s shirts.”
“I’m sorry, Squirt.” He covered my hands with his. “I know you wanted Linus to be your anchor, but from here it looks like he’s the one sinking.”