“Where are you going?” he asked, frowning. “Surely you don’t believe these accusations?”
“My sister doesn’t lie.” Lark was a lot of things, and sometimes she made me angry, but she wouldn’t have come here if she weren’t certain.
“Of course not.” He glanced at the paper in his hand. “But she must be mistaken.”
I appreciated his loyalty to his friend. Hopefully, he would appreciate mine to Lark. “Robert threatened to rape my sister and kill my friend. The only one who is mistaken is him.” I yanked my arm free and ran after Lark. Noah was right behind me.
The ghosts gathered at the top of the stairs had parted into two groups, leaving me an open path. I didn’t need to ask where Lark had gone, I simply followed her energy trail like a hound after blood.
I found them in the third room on the right, which had probably been Robert’s in life, if he’d chosen it as his refuge. I swept into the room at just the right moment to see Lark kick him hard in the stomach, knocking him against the wall. My sister was bleeding from a cut to her lip.
He’d hurt her. The realization filled me with rage, and the heightened energy of all the ghosts around me—of the building itself—only made it worse.
I lunged at Robert, my hand closing around his throat. I lifted him up until my arm was straight, and he dangled above the floor like a fish on a hook.
“Wren!” Noah cried. He moved toward me, but I held up my hand.
A hand touched my shoulder. Instantly, I felt a little calmer, not quite so cold. It was Lark. She was the only person—dead or alive—to have such an effect on me when I felt myself starting to lose what little humanity I’d worked so hard to cultivate.
I’d never known what it was like to be a living person, with a sense of morality or compassion. What I knew of any human emotion had come from my sister, and the spirits of Haven Crest had no idea how dark and cold I could be.
“Why did you attack Kevin McCrae?” Lark asked Robert.
The man I had thought to be so peaceful and joyful and kind sneered at my sister. “To kill him, you stupid bitch.”
I gave him a shake. “Watch how you speak to my sister, worm. Kevin McCrae is my friend.” Maybe he’d hurt me deeper than I’d ever been hurt before, but I didn’t wish Kevin any harm. I never would.
That sneer transferred to me. He must have felt really brave with his brethren behind me. He had no idea what I could do to him before any of them even thought to stop me.
“We’re not friends with the living, Dead Born. We’re either predator or prey. Which one are you?”
“She’s the one with her hand around your throat, dickless,” Lark retorted. “And she’s not the one you need to be worried about. I am, because I have no illusions about our relationship status. Who sent you after Kevin McCrae?”
Robert smiled, and I saw him as Lark must see him—as tainted and stained. Venomous and twisted. “Fuck you.”
I squeezed harder. I couldn’t kill him this way—he was already dead. But I could hurt him. He struggled against my hold. He might be older than me, but he wasn’t stronger. I tightened my fingers a bit more so he’d learn that lesson quickly. If he wanted to spend the rest of eternity walking about with a crushed throat, that was his prerogative.
“You tried that once,” Lark said. “Didn’t work out so well for you, did it?”
The ghost winked. “Tell your sister to let me go, and we can try again.”
Lark reached out, her hand grabbing Robert between his dangling legs. He cried out, smoke rising from his crotch. Iron. Lark was wearing iron rings.
I smiled. “That has to smart.” Even a dead girl like me knew how attached men were to their reproductive organs—even after death.
“Who sent you?” she asked again.
Robert only whimpered.
Lark released him, pulled back her hand and wiped it on her jeans like she was trying to scrub the skin right off. If she’d hit him, the iron might have dispersed his energy or marked him. She had an iron rod that would have surely knocked him into the Shadow Lands, but the rings were less potent, and she hadn’t been trying to get rid of him. She was a natural interrogator, my Lark.
Of the two of us, I was the predator. I was the loose cannon. For all my chastising of Lark for her prejudice against ghosts, I was almost as bad. At least she showed consideration. Mercy. I usually had those things as well, but it was all too easy for me to lose them. At that moment I teetered on the precipice of rational morality and the desire to rip Robert to shreds.
I could do it. They didn’t know what I’d done to Josiah Bent. Neither did Lark. They hadn’t been there, and I’d had Bent all to myself.
Robert’s gaze strayed from mine for a moment. Was he looking to Noah to save him?
“Tell her, Robert,” Noah said. Knowing that he was on my side—on Lark’s side—wrapped me in a rush of joy.