Those squinty eyes narrowed further. “You can see me?”
Was he this thick when he was alive? I wondered irreverently. “Yeah, I see dead people. Who knew? Now let’s talk. I’m looking for some newly deceaseds, and I heard you could help.”
It was almost funny to watch those transparent features change from incredulity to belligerence. He didn’t have facial muscles anymore, needless to say. Was it just the memory of them that made his scowl form?
“Get out of here or else the grave will swallow you and you’ll never leave!”
Boy, did he make it sound intimidating. If he had anything to threaten me with, I’d have been concerned.
“I’m not afraid of the grave; I was born half in it. But if you want me to get out of here”—I turned as if to go—“fine, but that means I’ll just have to throw this in the nearest trash can.”
Out of my jacket came the clear bottle with the lightning bolt. I almost laughed when his eyes fastened on it as though they were magically welded. This had to be Winston, all right.
“Whattt’ssss that you’ve got there, mistress?”
He drew the first word out in a lustful hiss. I popped the cork, waving it under where his nose appeared to be.
“Moonshine, my friend.”
I was still uncertain how Bones thought I was supposed to bribe him with this. Pour some on his grave? Hold the bottle inside his disembodied form? Or splash him with it?
Winston made another keening noise that would have chilled anyone near enough to hear it.
“Please, mistress!” Gone was his hostile tone, replaced instead with one of desperation. “Please, drink it. Drink it!”
“Me?” I gaped. “I don’t want any!”
“Oh, let me taste it through you, please!” he begged.
Taste it through me. Now I knew why Bones hadn’t mentioned how to entice Winston before. That’s what I got for trusting a vampire even in the littlest thing! I gave the ghost an irritable look while promising myself revenge on a certain pale-skinned, room-temperature creature of the night.
“Fine. I’ll drink some, but then you’re going to give me names of young girls who’ve died around here. No car accidents or diseases, either. Murders only.”
“Read the paper, mistress, why do you need me for that?” he barked. “Now drink the ’shine!”
I was so not in the mood to be pushed around by another dead person. “Guess I’ve caught you on a bad night,” I said pleasantly. “I’ll just leave you alone and be on my way….”
“Samantha King, seventeen years old, passed last night after being bled to death!” he trumpeted. “Please!”
I didn’t even have to ask for him to specify a cause of death. He must want that liquor real bad. I wrote the specifics down on my notepad and then tipped the bottle to my mouth.
“Mother of God!” I choked moments later, hardly noticing Winston’s entire form diving through my throat like he’d been shot from a gun. “Arghh! That tastes like kerosene!”
“Oh, the sweetness!” was his enraptured reply as he came out the other side of my neck. “Yessss! Give me more!”
I was still coughing, and my throat burned. Whether that was from the liquor or the ghost was anyone’s guess.
“Another name,” I managed to get out. “Then I’ll have more.”
Winston didn’t need to be told twice any longer. “Violet Perkins, age twenty-two, died last Thursday of strangulation. Cried the whole way up.”
He didn’t sound particularly sad for her. A hand waved impatiently at me, its edges blurry. “Go on!”
One deep breath later and more moonshine went down the hatch. I coughed just as much as before, my eyes watering.
“Why would anyone pay for this swill?” I gasped when I came up for air. My throat was almost throbbing when Winston exited it and he floated back in front of me.
“Thought you’d taken my ’shine from me forever, didn’t you, Simms?” Winston shouted at the passing hooded phantom. It didn’t react. “Well, look who’s drinking while you’re condemned to eternally wander off that cliff! This nip’s for you, old John! Carmen Johnson, twenty-seven, bled to death ten days ago. Drink, mistress! And this time, swallow like a woman, not like a gurgling babe!”
I regarded him with amazement. Out of all things, liquor seemed to be what he missed the most. “You’re dead and you’re still an alcoholic. That’s so dysfunctional.”
“A bargain’s a bargain!” he belted. “Drink!”