Becca’s hand had fallen off her wound, and Owen picked it up and held it there again. “Come on, baby, come on.”
He could feel the others exchanging pitying glances, and he hated it, hated them, this, himself. Why had he left her? Then or now?
“Nice toss.” Bobby peered over the edge of the cliff. “He’s toast.”
He returned to Raye’s side and put his arm around her, tugged her close, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Owen lowered his gaze as his throat went thick with longing.
“Though I’m surprised Henry didn’t get to it first.”
“Me too,” Raye agreed.
Owen’s head lifted. “Henry can toss things?”
“Of course. I inherited my power from him.”
“He’s a ghost, but he still has his power.”
“That’s right, but I don’t—” Raye stopped speaking. Her gaze flicked to Owen’s, and her mouth made an O.
“You can summon ghosts?”
She nodded.
“Do it.”
“Henry?” she called. Her gaze swept the clearing.
They waited, listening, though no one but Raye would hear him or see him.
“Well?” Bobby asked.
Raye shook her head. “I’ll have to do a spell to summon him.”
“What do you need?” Bobby asked.
“My things from the car.”
Frustration flared. They’d left the damn car half a mile back.
“Here.” Franklin tossed a bag. Bobby had to catch it or eat it. “I figured someone might need that.”
“Always prepared,” Cassandra said. “Is that the FBI motto?”
“Boy Scouts.”
“Same thing.”
Raye pulled black candles out of the bag, a bottle with a few green sticks inside. She dropped to the ground and held out her hand. “Knife.”
Owen still had it. He slapped it into her palm like a scalpel. She dug a five-pointed star into the earth, set a candle at each tip, took one of the green sticks and placed it in the center then lit the wicks. She leaned in so close her breath fluttered the flames when she spoke.
“I call the spirit of Henry Taggart. Come in peace or not at all. As I will so mote it be.”
Owen listened, looked—which was stupid because he wouldn’t see him or hear him even if he did come. And while he’d insisted on doing this, he still didn’t think it would work. How could it?
“I call the spirit of Henry Taggart,” Raye repeated. “Come in peace or not at all. As I will so mote it be.”
She continued to say the words over and over in a singsong rhythm until she swayed trancelike to their tune. Owen felt entranced himself.
“Not working,” Bobby murmured.
Owen wished he could help. He’d do anything but he wasn’t the one with the power. The only thing he knew about witchcraft was that rosemary kept away ghosts.
Shit.
“Rosemary,” he blurted.
Raye’s eyes opened. They were unfocused, seemingly elsewhere for a moment before she blinked. “Right. We couldn’t see her. But saw this place. She was warded. That might be keeping Henry away too.”
Owen tore open Becca’s shirt, studiously avoiding the sight of the horrible wound that had killed her. Green flecks sprinkled her stomach and stuck in the blood.
“Water,” he said in the voice of someone lost in a desert.
He peered around frantically—they had a lake and a lot of puddles, but no way to get the water from there to her.
“Here.” Franklin tossed a plastic bottle of water, which he must have scrounged from one of the cars.
Owen caught it, opened it, poured it over her, rubbing away the blood and picking off the flecks until she was clean. No more blood pulsed from the wound. Why would it? She had no pulse.
“Hurry,” he said.
Raye began to chant again. Owen began to whisper the chant too. He could have sworn he heard Bobby, Cassandra, and Franklin do so as well.
Please, he thought. Please.
The air stilled. Everyone caught their breath. Pru howled and the wolves joined in. Reggie sat on Owen’s foot. Raye’s eyes snapped open.
And the candles went out.
*
Henry grabbed McHugh by the throat.
“He’s already dead,” I said. “Not breathing. Can’t strangle him.”
“But it feels so good,” Henry muttered.
The wind that wasn’t, couldn’t be, stirred my hair, and I caught the scent of flames. I didn’t like it.
“Henry,” I began, and then I saw McHugh’s face. He was smiling.
The breeze picked up, so strong it made me step back. I heard chanting in the distance, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.
The wind pulled harder, and I had to lean into it to reach Henry. I wrapped my fingers around his arm just as lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and Roland McHugh began to laugh.
The next thing I knew I stood in the clearing at Revelation Point. Jeremy was gone. Chief Deb too. Pru and the wolves were here, though they were eating … a woman’s arm.
That explained the absence of Deb.
The others were gathered in a semicircle around Raye, who was on her knees, bent over unlit candles.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Raye’s head went up. Bobby Doucet stiffened, shifting his shoulders.