Chapter Thirty--four
All the garlic and weed’s gone?” I asked Bones as he came in the front door. Aside from the garlic, it occurred to me that I sounded like a teen trying to clean up from a big party before her parents got home.
“Far away,” Bones replied. “Took it flying and then dropped it in a lake. It’ll sink, or some lucky sod will have a grand day fishing.”
I’d already scrubbed myself enough to take off a layer of skin, let alone all remaining stench from the herbs, and thrown out my clothes that had touched them. I was as ready as I was going to get.
“All right,” I said, looking at Bones, Mencheres, and Kira. “Time to raise the dead.”
I went onto our wraparound front porch, staring up at the sky to try and clear my head. The stars really were much brighter out in the country as compared to the city. Still, I wasn’t here to admire the pretty twinkling lights. I was here to put a big ol’ supernatural WELCOME sign above my head, summoning the very beings I’d tried to repel for the past several weeks. Even though I was in a sparsely populated area, I knew the dead were close by. The lack of human voices bombarding my mind made it easier to focus on the hum I felt in the air that had nothing to do with the three vampires joining me on the porch. This was something else, coming from the ground up.
I closed my eyes, trying to picture the trails of spectral light I’d seen when the other side of the grave first opened to me back in New Orleans. Something that felt like gooseflesh danced across my skin, but it wasn’t cold out, and I wasn’t afraid. I was calm, because I knew they were close. Come, I thought, seeking them with the power that resided in my veins. Come.
Behind me, Kira let out a hiss even as Bones said quietly, “Four of them just showed up, luv.” I kept my eyes closed, smiling so those who came would know they were welcomed, and continued to pull on the power inside me. Before, I’d had to be angry, or afraid, or in pain to activate the power I’d borrowed from Vlad and Mencheres, but this was something different. Stillness was what called to the residents of the grave, not seething emotions.
“Five more,” Bones said, a question in his voice I didn’t answer out loud. No, I wasn’t done. More were close by. I could feel them.
A chill blew through the warm summer air. Not frigid. Pleasant, like the kiss of frost on a fevered brow. I invited it to come nearer, and it accepted, the coolness settling over me with a slow, sweet lethargy. It grew inside me, urging me to release myself to it. I didn’t fight it, but surrendered, letting it settle all the way through me.
“Eight more,” Bones said, almost a growl.
I heard him, but still didn’t respond, falling into the white emptiness that attached itself to the center of me. The more I let my fear, grief, and stress slide away from me, the bigger that inner sphere grew, replacing those emotions with cool, blissful nothingness. It was such a relief to let my burdens fall to the ground, swallowed up by the soothing white emptiness. How had I ever lasted so longer under the weight of the pain? Now with it finally gone, I felt like I could fly.
Bones said something else, but I didn’t hear what this time. Wave after wave of peace crested over me, insulating me from everything except the cool, restful silence inside me. This was bliss. This was freedom. I reveled in it, never wanting it to end.
A thread reached down into my consciousness, tugging me back. Bones’s voice, sounding harsh in worry. It chased away some of that beautiful nothingness, replacing it with concern. It was so calm and peaceful where I was . . . but I didn’t like hearing him that way.
His voice came again, more urgent this time. Sandbags of distress seemed to form on top of me, holding me down from that floating, freeing emptiness. They formed a path that I followed, each step piling on every painful emotion I’d let go of before, but I didn’t turn around. Bones was at the end of this road. That was more important than all the blissful barrenness behind me.
All of a sudden, I had more than his voice. His face was only inches away, dark brows drawn together as he said my name, louder, strong hands shaking my shoulders.
“I’m right here, no need to yell,” I murmured.
Bones closed his eyes briefly before speaking again. “You turned white as chalk and then crumpled to the floor. I’ve been calling your name trying to rouse you these past ten minutes.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my face against his. “Sorry.”
At the feel of wetness, I touched my cheek and then looked at the pink glistening drops on my fingers.
Tears. “I was crying?” Odd. I didn’t remember feeling sad.
“Yes,” Bones rasped. “You were, and yet the whole time, you were still smiling.”
Eesh. That sounded kinda creepy. “Did it work?” I remember him rattling off some numbers before, but I didn’t know if those ghosts were still here. I was on the porch floor, and Bones’s body blocked out most of what was around me.
“Oh, it bloody well did,” he replied. Then he sat back, lifting me up with him. The rest of the porch and surrounding yard came into view.
I couldn’t control my gasp at the dozens and dozens of transparent forms that lined up around our house. I could barely even make out all their faces, there were so many of them floating by each other. Good God! It was like being back in New Orleans. How was this possible? I’d only summoned five ghosts the last time I tried this with Vlad and that had been in cemetery, for crying out loud!
“Are these the Remnants you guys were talking about?” Kira asked, sounding rattled.
“No.” Amazement was still in my voice. “They’re regular ghosts.”
One of the hazy forms zoomed up yard and onto the porch. “Cat!”
It took a second, but then those indistinct features solidified into someone I recognized.
“Hey, Fabian,” I said, trying to lighten his concern with a joke. “I see you got my page.”
He reached out, his fingers passing through my cheek. “Your tears were like a rope that pulled me to you,” he said.
Wasn’t that ironic? It was blood that raised and controlled the Remnants, but maybe tears did the same for ghosts. That had to be the wild card. I’d bled in the cemetery with Vlad, plus been angry, frustrated, and sad, but I hadn’t cried. Yet ten minutes of tapping into that stillness inside combined with tears and now I had a veritable army of spectres on my lawn.
“I’m all right,” I said to Bones and Fabian since both of them were watching me with concerned expressions. “Really,” I added. “Now that we’ve got a good crowd, let’s do this.”
I stood up, going to the end of the patio that overlooked the area where the ghosts were the thickest, though more were coming, from the rustling back by the tree line.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, trying to sound confident. “My name is Cat. There’s something very important I need to ask you to do.”
“ ’Ello, mistress,” a vaguely familiar voice boomed out. “Not thought to see you again.”
I cocked my head at the ghost who flitted between the others to the front of the group. He had graying brown hair, a barrel belly, and he obviously hadn’t shaved any time soon before he’d died. Something about him nagged at my memory, however. Where had I seen him before . . . ?
“Winston Gallagher!” I said, recognizing the first ghost I’d met.
He cast a disappointed look at my empty hands. “No moonshine? Ah, yer a cruel one, to summon me here without a drop of nourishment.”
Never let it be said that something as simple as death could cure alcoholism, I thought irreverently, remembering all the moonshine the ghost had coerced me into drinking the night we met. Then my eyes narrowed and I covered my hand in front of my crotch as I saw Winston’s gaze fasten there next.
“Don’t you even think of poltergeisting my panties again,” I warned him, adding in a louder voice. “That goes for everyone else here, too.”
“This is the sod?” Bones started down the porch stairs even as Winston began to edge away. “Come back here, you scurvy little—”
“Bones, don’t!” I interrupted, not wanting him to start using slurs that might offend the other living-impaireds gathered here.
He stopped, giving a last glare to Winston while mouthing, You. Me. Exorcist, before returning to my side.
I shook my head. Vampire territorialism. It had no sense of appropriate timing.
“As I said, there’s something very important I need you to do. I’m looking for a ghoul who’s trying to start a war among the undead, and he’ll have a lot of other pissed-off, vampire-hating ghouls with him.”
It would be a huge task, but if Marie found Gregor through ghosts with no clue where he was in the world, then I should be able to find Apollyon a lot easier with what I knew.
“Ride the ley lines,” I said, feeling like a warped version of General Patton rallying my troops. “Tell your friends and get them hunting, too. Search all the larger funeral homes that are bordered by cemeteries. Find the short ghoul with the black comb-around that goes by the name of Apollyon, and then come right back and tell me where he is.”
“Not you, luv,” Bones said at once. “Fabian. Have them report to Fabian, who will then relay it to you.”
Good point. I trusted Marie’s power enough to believe that every ghost I personally spoke to wouldn’t betray me, but I was enlisting others who’d never met me. No need to have this plan backfire by leading Apollyon right to me instead of vice versa.
I gestured to the ghost at my side. “Wait. Report back to Fabian, my right-hand man. He’ll stay here so you’ll be able to find him.”
Fabian’s chest puffed out at my declaration, a beaming smile spreading across his face. I rested my hand over where his shoulder would be, meeting the gaze of every ghost who stared at me.
“Now go,” I urged them. “Hurry.”