“It is laughable,” I say, “that humans cannot entertain the possibility of all otherworld creatures, yet covet a belief in Jehovah that they take to their deathbeds. But they do.”
A smile spreads into Gracie’s eyes. “Anyway, so far I’ve been able to double up, stay in relatively the same area, and not attract the attention of local humans, but if I break the anonymity of our kind...”
She frowns at the kitchen.
I smile at her shyness.
“Well, at least there’s not a creature that can destroy you,” I say, relief in my words.
“Except my own.” Gracie’s brown eyes lock on mine.
I freeze, shaken with a fear I haven’t felt since leaving home. “And the outcome of your conduct doesn’t concern you?” I ask. “Wouldn’t it be safer to just—”
“No! Zeus and Artemis would roll over in their godly slumber! Consumption of the Identical be damned if they think they can make me a more hideous mythological-known creature than I already am! Or turn me into something with a tenth as much freedom as punishment for my beliefs, like a marble statue on which doves coo, mate, and defecate. I’d rather be consumed by my brethren and Become No Longer.”
There is no room for discussion in her voice, and my anxiety is worse than personal fear. I have never been this concerned for another. I feel an overwhelming need to protect her … IT... “Damn it all to hell!”
Gracie jumps inches off the couch.
“Do you have a name? I mean a real name?” I blurt out before I can catch my words.
She turns away, but not before I catch a sadness enter her eyes. “I’m a myth, no name, sex, identity, nothing … until I dress in another.”
“Well, what say we give you one?”
“A name?” She turns Gracie’s eyes on me, lipid pools threatening to spill over her lower lids. “How about Penny? Penny Dreadful?”
I pull her into my arms. “First of all, you’re not dreadful. And you’re something pretty important to me, even without a human covering your body.” I tighten my grip and run my lips up her neck and over her ear.
The host sucks in a breath. Gracie moans and exhales.
“Can you feel my arms around you?” I ask, pecking kisses behind her ear. “Are my lips warm on your throat?”
“Yes,” she gasps.
I whisper, “I want to call you Luna. Luna Bella, because you’re the moon clothed beautifully in darkness.”
She whimpers and leans into me, her back facing the kitchen. “If we go any further, you may not be able to control yourself. We might lose Gracie.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” I ask, and kiss her host’s temple.
“But she’s special,” she says, eyes closed and lips parted.
“They are all special,” I pant, my lips covering hers.
Gracie’s eyes pop open. Both hands on my chest, she pulls away and shakes her host’s head fiercely. “Not like Gracie! She’s a witch … and a necromancer.”
I look down at her. “How do you know this?”
“Her grandmother is standing by the kitchen door.”
Chapter 19
Gracie
“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing ghosts?” Gaire says. “I thought you were trying to avoid me.”
I’m under the shower in Gracie’s bathroom. Gaire is in her bedroom outside the open door, and he’s shouting over the sound. The water is so hot, steam rolls over the top of the shower curtain and coats the overabundance of glass candle holders Gracie has lined on a shelf that circles the back of the claw foot tub.
I felt Gracie’s love for her bedroom the minute I entered. It’s located on the northwest side of the house and probably gets a fair share of beautiful sunsets. It’s painted sage with cream trim, and has large French windows that open inward. I could almost smell the small garden circling a large magnolia tree with roses, jasmine, and lavender, just outside the windows.
The bed is high and puffy, with a flowered cream and peach duvet and sage striped sheets. Pillows are propped against a lovely metal headboard. A book of poems by Ana?s Nin shares a place with a soft colored stained glass lamp on a nightstand by her bed.
When I first entered the bathroom and opened the linen closet to look for a clean towel, the soft smell of peaches greeted me. I could love and die in this room.
I scrub Gracie’s hair with lavender scented shampoo for the third time before slathering it with conditioner.
“The conversation was important to me,” I shout back, “I didn’t want to interrupt, but it seems I did exactly that.”
“So the fact that this ghost can communicate with her granddaughter doesn’t bother you?”
I don’t answer. It bothers the hell out of me, as Jane would say, for several reasons. I shut off the water, pull one of the towels off the rack inside the shower and wrap it around my hair.
“Can you hand me that terry robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, please?” I reach out from behind the stark white shower curtain.
Gaire growls, and a few seconds later the robe plops over the top of the shower curtain instead of into my open palm.