After two days of waiting for him to show up, I was out of patience. Somewhere out there, my friends were in danger, and every passing second could be bringing them closer to death. Once, I’d been able to summon ghosts from miles away whether they wanted to come or not, but that power, like all the others I had absorbed when I drank undead blood, had faded. In his formless state, I couldn’t call, text, or e-mail my uncle to demand that he show up, but there was another way to get in touch with him although it required a road trip.
Bones and I pulled up to the Washington, D.C., strip mall right as the sun was setting. Lights were still on inside of Helen of Troy’s Garden, illuminating the various floral arrangements the shop sold. More importantly was the African-American man I glimpsed among the flowers, his vermilion shirt tight enough to look painted on.
“Good, he’s here,” I said.
We hadn’t called because I wasn’t sure if Tyler would agree to help us. The last time, it almost got him killed. People tended to hang on to that sort of thing, but a good medium was hard to find.
As we approached the shop, a dog began to bark. Seconds later, a furry, drool-bedecked face pressed against the lower portion of the glass door, his whole butt shaking from how hard he wagged his tail.
“What’s gotten into you, Dexter?” Tyler muttered. Then he came closer and saw Bones and me on the other side of the glass.
Oh HELL no, bolted across his mind.
“Is that any way to greet old friends?” Bones asked dryly.
Tyler drew his shoulders back, further stretching the strained fabric of his shirt.
“That’s not a greeting, sugar. It’s my answer to whatever you’ve come here to ask me to do.”
“Hi, Tyler, you look great,” I said, biting back a grin as I came inside his shop. “Love the shirt. Is that Dolce?”
He preened for a moment before catching himself. “Robert Graham, and don’t try sweet-talking me. I had to dye my hair to take out the gray you two caused the last time I helped you!”
I ignored that, petting Dexter and cooing to him. The stout English bulldog vibrated with joy as he covered my hands with sloppy kisses.
“Traitor,” Tyler said in exasperation.
Bones clapped Tyler on the back. “No need to fret, mate. We only want you to contact her uncle for us.”
“Don?” Tyler let out a scoff. “Why do you need me for that?”
I glanced up. “Because we can’t waste more time waiting for him to show up on his own. Madigan’s done something to our friends.”
At the mention of his name, a spate of insults raced across Tyler’s mind. Madigan tended to make more enemies than friends.
Still, suspicion narrowed Tyler’s chocolate-colored eyes.
“No trap building or getting wooden objects poltergeisted into my throat by murdering ghosts, right? I contact Don, and we’re done?”
“Promise,” Bones said at once.
Tyler’s gaze raked over him. “You’re too pretty for me to refuse, Bonesy,” he said with a regretful sigh. Then he winked at me. “But not so pretty that I’m doing it for free.”
I snorted, used to Tyler’s flirting as well as his greedy streak.
“Deal.”
That’s how two vampires, a medium, and a dog came to sit around a Ouija board in the back room of a floral shop. It sounded like the plot to a SyFy Channel Saturday night movie, but sometimes “weird” was the key ingredient to getting things done. When in the hands of a skilled medium, Ouija boards opened doors to the other side. The urn containing Don’s cremated remains was to ensure that we didn’t have to weed through other spirits before getting to Don.
Tyler and I rested our fingertips on the wooden planchette after he sprinkled a fine layer of Don’s ashes onto the board. Then he began to recite an invitation for my uncle to appear. After a few minutes, the planchette started to move, and prickling sensations rose on the back of my neck. Dexter whined, the sound both anxious and excited. Animals could sense the presence of ghosts better than anyone, including vampires.
Then a swirl appeared above the Ouija board, like a miniature tornado that didn’t generate any wind. Icy tentacles slid up my spine in a slithering caress. We were no longer the only people in the room.
“Is he here?” Tyler asked, unable to see the energy swirls yet.
I stared at them, watching them grow and lengthen until they formed into an older man in a business suit, the Ouija board jutting out of his midsection like he’d been cut in half with it.
“Hi, Don,” I said with satisfaction. “Glad you could make it.”
My uncle looked around in confusion. “Cat. How—?”
“How did I yank you out of whatever afterlife corner you were hiding in?” I interrupted. “I’m friends with a medium, remember?”
Don looked at the board protruding from his stomach, his mouth curling down. “Who knew these things actually worked?”
“Make friends with others of your kind, you’ll learn lots of things,” Tyler said, squinting in Don’s general direction. Then his forehead smoothed. “Oh, there you are.”
“No time for pleasantries, Don,” Bones stated. “You need to tell us everything you’ve been hiding about Madigan. My people’s lives depend on it.”