Five
I snapped the cover over my iPad, not crumpling up the device in a fit of anger only because it was too damn expensive.
“What a sick, crazed asshole!” I spat.
Bones glanced over at me before returning his attention to the road. “Told you not to start reading that book.”
Yeah, well, it was a long drive to Washington, D.C., the book was available to buy online, and studying my target was my first step when I began a hunt. I knew the Malleus Maleficarum would be filled with superstitious bull crap, but I had underestimated the depths of its viciousness. I didn’t know what disgusted me more: the precepts set forth by Kramer, or the knowledge that hundreds of years and countless deaths occurred before the average person stopped believing that he was correct.
“The accused had no chance,” I continued to fume. “Evidence was something none of them cared about. All someone needed to do was get a ‘feeling’ that a person was a witch, and boom, an Inquisitor could take her. Confessions were extracted by torture—described in sickening detail, I might add—and even if the poor woman confessed before being tortured, she’d be tortured anyway just for ‘confirmation.’ And if any of the accused managed not to confess no matter what horrific things were done to them, they were burned to death anyway because then they were considered to be unrepentant. Jesus!”
A grunt. “Don’t think He had anything to do with it, luv.”
“Bet your ass,” I muttered. Religion might have been the excuse, but power and depravity were the real culprits. “Do you know Kramer considered women responsible for everything from impotence to failed crops—and that’s not getting started on his obsession with their inherently evil, insatiable slutty natures, of course.”
Bones’s mouth curled. “Want to kill him a great deal now, do you?”
“Oh, so much.” My hands itched with the urge to do violence to Kramer, but since he’d only be solid when he was burning new victims alive on Halloween, that would be too late. I’d have to settle for finding a way to dispatch him while he was still in vaporous form, and that—sadly—wouldn’t involve dismemberment, I’d bet.
The look Bones threw my way said he could guess my thoughts. Or maybe he noticed me clenching my hands into fists.
“Chin up, Kitten. Perhaps the chap we’re meeting will find a particularly brutal way to banish the sod for good.”
“You seem pretty relaxed about this whole situation,” I said with mild exasperation, noting the nonchalance in his tone and vibe.
Bones all but rolled his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? For the first time in years, our relationship is solid, no one’s actively trying to murder us, and our closest mates are happy. Blimey, Kitten, if I were any more relaxed, I’d need a smoke.”
I was about to point out that things were hardly rosy considering my uncle’s stuck-in-between state, the potentially troublesome Madigan, and a murderous ghost on the loose, but then I paused. Wouldn’t there always be something stressful going on in our lives? If I didn’t learn how to savor the positives—and everything Bones pointed out was a big positive—then I would march through life with a permanent case of Glass Half-Empty syndrome.
“You’re right,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his thigh. “Things have never been better.”
Bones caught my hand and raised it to his mouth, lips brushing over my knuckles in a whisper of a kiss.
We’d always have challenges, but like everyone else, we would tackle them one at a time. Right now, Kramer was first on the list, and for all the problems the spectral schmuck represented, there were also positives. He might be able to terrorize and harm humans, but once I had Kramer in my sights, he’d be picking on someone his own size. I didn’t scare easily, and a ghost could never beat a vampire in a fight. He couldn’t even throw a punch until Halloween, and we’d lay the smackdown on him well before that. My mood improved even further.
“I bet this medium is going to give us great news,” I added, voice throatier from Bones’s tongue flicking between my fingers with the barest of touches.
Elisabeth had said mediums couldn’t get the job done before, but she’d only been able to get a few to try, and the last attempt had been over fifty years ago. Bones’s best friend, Spade, knew some noted demonologists who’d recommended the medium we were on our way to see, and if we were lucky, he’d prove more efficient than the others. If he didn’t pan out, we still had a few other tricks up our sleeves. Good thing, too, because October wasn’t far away.
At least we had an ace in the hole. As a ghost, Elisabeth was limited to traveling long distances by either physically hitching a ride on a car or using a ley line, which was a supernatural version of a speed train. Ley lines usually led to various supernatural hot spots, so then she’d have to pit stop at each one during her attempts to locate Kramer, but put me within a hundred mile radius of him, and I could use the borrowed power in my blood to lure Kramer to me. Then, once he was there, I could command him not to leave until we were done exorcising him. I’d detested that one of the side effects of drinking the voodoo queen’s blood—in addition to becoming catnip for spirits—was the ability to strip ghosts of their free will, but that ability would come in handy in this situation. I didn’t feel comfortable using that power on the ghosts who found their way to me, but on a prick like Kramer, I’d wield it with a smile. And a distinctly witchy cackle.
As for the accomplice, well, a human would be so easy to dispatch, it took the fun out of contemplating it.
“We’re here,” Bones said, letting go of my hand to pull into a strip mall parking lot.
I glanced around, looking for any afterlife-themed names in the businesses lining the front of the L-shaped complex. The closest thing I found was Deena’s Heavenly Cheesecake, but I doubted that was the place.
“Are you sure this is it?”
Bones pointed. “Helen of Troy’s Garden is right over there.”
“But that’s a florist,” I said, as if the obvious had escaped him.
He answered me as he parked the car. “Maybe he fancies communing with flowers as well as ghosts.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that a medium would have a regular day job, but it did. Then I gave a mental shrug. Several years ago, I’d gone to college during the day and hunted vampires at night. Just because people were connected to the paranormal in one way didn’t mean they had to be involved with it in all parts of their lives.
When I got out of the car, a smash of voices assaulted my mind, as abrupt as a switch being flipped. My hand flew to my head in an instinctive yet totally useless gesture of defense against the sudden deluge of chatter.
“Aw, crap,” I muttered. “Give me a second.”
Bones came over to me without asking what was wrong. He’d seen this response enough before to know. His gaze flitted between me and the rest of the parking lot while coiled, dangerous energy leaked from his aura—a warning to anyone without a pulse that approaching us would be a bad idea. I was at my most vulnerable in those first few moments, when I used all of my concentration to turn down the roar of voices in my mind, courtesy of my mind-reading abilities suddenly kicking in.
Once I was able to dim the carousel of conversations to a level similar to annoying background music, I gave Bones a thumbs-up.
“What’s my time?”
“Seventy-two seconds,” he replied.
Bones didn’t have a stopwatch, but I knew his quote was accurate. I blew out a sigh. On the plus side, that was my fastest recovery time to date. In the negative column, if we’d been under attack during those seventy-two seconds, I could’ve been killed several times over. Not by another human, sure, but a midlevel vampire or ghoul could clean my clock while my attention was so dangerously divided.
“You were right. The voices are easier to control when I’m used to them being there. Wish this on-again, off-again garbage would stop already.”
He ran his hands down my arms in a slow, firm caress, his touch conveying both strength and resolve.
“It’s happening less, and you’re rebounding faster. Soon you’ll master it completely, just like you’ve done with every other challenge that’s been thrown at you.”
I wish I had half his confidence in my abilities, but there wasn’t time for me to wallow in uncertainties. For now, I’d follow the sage mantra of fake it ’til you make it. I smiled and changed the subject.
“There’s a man inside the florist’s shop thinking you’re way too hot to be straight. Think he’s our medium?”
Bones’s mouth curled, but he didn’t bother looking over my shoulder at the shop behind me. No doubt he’d picked up on those same thoughts himself, but was too polite to admit it.
“Let’s find out.”
The plethora of scents inside Helen of Troy’s Garden had me breathing almost as often as I had before I became a full vampire. Fresh floral fragrances washed away the acridness of oil, exhaust, and chemicals from my occasional breaths on the drive over, making me feel like my lungs had just gone through a quick cleaning. For practicality’s sake, it also gave me a chance to scent out any potential dangers. Undead Masters might be able to cloak their auras, but no one could fully erase their scent. A couple sniffs told me that no other vampires were in the store but me and Bones, and I didn’t catch the earthy scent of any ghouls, either. Sure, we were here on Spade’s referral, but waltzing in without our guard up was akin to asking Fate to send us an unpleasant surprise, in my opinion.
Once I established that the only danger the florist shop represented would be to someone with allergies, I turned my attention to the chicly dressed, smiling African-American man who continued to check Bones out as if he was an orgasm for the eyes.
In fairness, he was, but it still raised my instinctive vampire territorialism even though Bones was faithful, not to mention he didn’t swing that way.
“You Tyler?” Bones asked at the same time that I loudly cleared my throat. Both served to cut off the beginnings of a mental fantasy the man was having about Bones that would take days to scrub from my mind.
“That’s me,” Tyler replied with a quick, engaging grin.
“We have an appointment,” I said, fighting my urge to grip Bones’s arm while hissing and flashing fang. “I’m Cat, and this is my husband, Bones.”
Amusement wafted over my subconscious, but Bones’s expression didn’t change from its mask of cool inscrutability as he regarded Tyler.
“Just my luck you couldn’t be a brother and sister shopping for some flowers for Mom,” Tyler said in a disappointed tone. Then he winked at me. “That’s right, honey, state your claim on Mr. Yummy Pants. I’d do the same if I were you.”
A grin ticked at my mouth. I swept my gaze over the muscled roundness of Bones’s ass, which his black jeans only highlighted. Then I gazed at the snug fit of the front that had nothing to do with the cut of the denim. Finally, I met Tyler’s chocolate-colored eyes and winked back.
He laughed.
“Nice shop,” I said to change the subject. “Everything’s so fresh and beautiful.”
Tyler waved a hand. “Being a medium might sound glamorous, but creditors are only impressed with one thing, sweetness. Payments. Besides”—he shuddered dramatically—“when they find out about my other job, they always want proof that I’m not faking, and telling someone their dead Aunt Tilly hates their skanky new girlfriend just leads to your power getting shut off.”
I couldn’t stop my laugh at that. Bones’s mouth quirked. “Indeed. Now, mate, you know why we’ve come. Shall we chat here, or elsewhere?”
“Here. Just let me close up.”
Tyler bustled over to the entrance, flipping the sign from OPEN to SORRY WE MISSED YOU! before locking the door. On his way back, he gave another open leer at Bones’s ass before meeting my gaze and fanning himself.
“Rawr!” he stage-whispered.
My initial spurt of territorialism had changed to humor. Tyler reminded me of another affable pervert—my friend, Juan. If it was female, Juan was attracted to it. Aside from a switch in gender, Tyler seemed to be the same way. From his thoughts, I knew he had no serious interest in hitting on Bones now that he knew he was married. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. Tyler’s thoughts bounced around between wondering what sort of ghost was giving us trouble, to pondering whether we were human, to guessing that Bones tasted like vanilla frosting.
Two out of the three musings weren’t slutty, at least.
“All set now. Follow me,” Tyler said.
We headed toward the back room of the shop. Another heartbeat came from there, making me wonder if Tyler had a partner. I wasn’t worried that he hadn’t mentioned anyone else being here, though. If one human proved too much for Bones and me to handle, we didn’t deserve to have fangs. More plants and boxes were stacked along the short, narrow hallway, as well as bags of fertilizer and other greenery accessories. As predicated, this clutter ended in a small office with no windows and walls that had seen better days. It was also empty of anyone that I could see, but from the rapid heartbeat—and some nasally grunting—an animal was in here.
Bones and I sat in the two folding chairs opposite a desk that had duct tape wrapped around one corner. Tyler pulled a comfier-looking chair out from behind the desk to sit closer to us.
“Sorry for the surroundings,” he said, still in that same cheery way. “Have to make it pretty in front for customers, but that means skimping back here where it’s just me and Dexter.”
At that, a white-and-tan dog with rolls of flesh decorating his shoulders and a face that looked perpetually smashed came out from underneath the desk.
“Aww, who’s Daddy’s little baby?” Tyler cooed, patting his lap.
More nasally grunts ensued, sounding joyous this time, before the bundle of flesh and fur landed on Tyler’s lap hard enough to elicit an “oof” from the medium.
“Baby needs to lay off the burgers or he’ll break daddy’s hip one day,” Tyler continued in the same singsong manner.
I tended to agree. With his leanness and Dexter’s size, the dog had to be about a third of his master’s weight. The medium didn’t seem to mind, though. He beamed at Bones and me.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?”
With those rolls, the wet-sounding grunts, bulbous wiggly tail, and smashed face—not to mention the fart the dog let out once he situated himself—he was gorgeous in a way that only a parent could appreciate. But the open joy in Dexter’s furry countenance as I stuck my hand out to pet him made me forget his less-than-aesthetic qualities.
“Who’s a good, pretty boy?” I asked, scratching Dexter’s ears and getting my wrist thoroughly licked in the process. The dog shuddered in delight, barely staying on Tyler’s lap as he shifted to get closer.
“You have a friend forever now, sweetie,” Tyler said, gripping Dexter more firmly so the dog didn’t topple over. “So tell me, what sort of haunting are the two of you experiencing?”
“We’re looking for someone who can summon and kill a ghost,” Bones stated.
Tyler’s brows went up, and some of that flirtatious sparkle left his gaze. “Why?” he asked bluntly.
I pulled out my iPad, a few taps bringing up the text of the Malleus Maleficarum. Then I held it up so Tyler could see it.
“Because the asshole who wrote this came back after he died,” I replied. “And he’s found a way to keep murdering people.”
Tyler took the tablet from me with one hand while the other still held the dog. Somehow he managed to brace it against a knee and scroll down through the pages without dislodging Dexter from his perch. Great, a crazy couple, ran through Tyler’s mind as he read some of the text. They actually think they’ve got the ghost of an infamous witch hunter haunting their house!
Bones leaned forward, his smile showing the tips of his fangs. “We’re not crazy, and this sod isn’t haunting our anything.”
Tyler’s head whipped up, his expression changing as he spotted the new pointy canines in Bones’s teeth and realized he hadn’t said that last sentence out loud.
“Oh,” he said at last. “Sorry. My friends didn’t mention certain . . . details about you, and you wouldn’t believe how nutty some people are. Just last week, I had a woman convinced her trailer was haunted by Tupac, as if he’d want to spend eternity in a double wide that smelled like cat piss.”
That made my lips twitch, but Bones stayed on topic. “Now that we’ve cleared up the issue of our sanity, let’s move on to our query.”
Tyler gently shooed Dexter from his lap with a “Daddy’s got to work” explanation that nevertheless drew a whine before Dexter went under the desk again. A loud exhalation, like a sigh, preceded the sound of the dog’s plopping down on something soft. Spoiled rotten, I noted in amusement, but that only raised my opinion of Tyler. Kindness toward the voiceless or the vulnerable, like animals and children, usually denoted good character in a person.
“How do you know you’re dealing with the shade of Heinrich Kramer and that he’s able to kill people?” Tyler asked, all business now.
“Ghostly informant,” Bones replied.
Tyler nodded as if that response wasn’t unusual. “Is that the only confirmation? Ghosts lie sometimes.”
The glance Bones cast my way said he’d considered this possibility. “All we have is the ghost’s word.”
Tyler gave both of us an unblinking look. “I can’t kill a ghost, but I know some people who might be able to. Before I give you their names and put in a good word for you, I need to make sure I’m not setting up an innocent person.”
I doubted that Elisabeth had made all this up, but I’d been lied to convincingly before. Just because she seemed nice and Fabian had a crush on her didn’t mean we should blindly trust a virtual stranger when we had the chance to confirm the facts for ourselves. I exchanged a long, wordless look with Bones. We could green-eye the information out of Tyler, but from the brush of his emotions, Bones also wanted further corroboration on the identity of the ghost Elisabeth had sent us after.
“If you have a way to make sure that what we’ve been told is true, do it,” I told him.
Tyler stood, brushing Dexter’s hair from his pants. “All right,” he said, his tone chipper once more. “Time to talk to the dead.”