Jeaniene Frost - Up From the Grave

“Welcome,” Ian said, sounding anything but convivial. “Hope you enjoy the smell. A little more raw sewage, and it would be just like the place I grew up in.”

Another form appeared behind him. At some point since I’d last seen Tate, he’d shaved his face and shorn his hair into its usual buzz cut.

“Mr. Fancy Pants hasn’t stopped bitching since he arrived,” he muttered. Then Tate frowned, looking farther down the empty street.

“Why do you have a bunch of ghosts following you?”

I turned to see at least two dozen ghosts trailing about fifty yards behind us. Good. We’d been hoping Marie’s borrowed power would lure nearby spooks like they were moths and I a shining flame. Detroit was a large city, and though Ian and Tate had scented Katie in several spots, they hadn’t managed actually to set eyes on her.

Now we had reinforcements, and thanks to the grave power running through my veins, the ghosts would be compelled to obey my commands.

“Where do you think you have Katie’s location narrowed down to?” I asked, avoiding Tate’s question.

His frown said he noticed my omission, but he replied without further comment.

“From what we’ve gathered, she moves around, but her scent has been strongest at the old book depository, the former Packard auto plant, former Central Station, and the old church on East Grand Boulevard.”

“Thanks.”

Then I faced the ghosts, who drifted closer at my beckoning wave.

“I need you to find a little girl for me,” I told them. “She’s about four feet tall, auburn hair, and her eyes might glow. She’s probably hiding in one of the places my friend just mentioned. If you see her, only tell me or this ghost here.” As I nodded at Fabian.

My entourage dispersed as soon as I finished speaking. Fabian left with them before I could specify that he wasn’t included in the order. Tate shook his head in disbelief, but a knowing look crossed Ian’s face.

“You’re back on Marie’s sauce.”

Bones flew up to the roof. I followed, landing with only an additional extra step to balance myself.

“Yes,” I said shortly.

“What sauce? And who’s Marie?” Tate wondered, reminding me that he’d missed a lot while working for Don these past years.

“Not relevant at the moment,” Bones stated. “These new developments are.”

I said nothing while he brought them up to speed on Richard Trove’s being a demon and why he’d backed Madigan for nearly a decade. I still didn’t speak when Bones disclosed that Katie was my biological daughter, and how that was possible. Only after Ian asked, “If she’s the mother, who’s the father?” did I break my silence.

“The records Trove published never gave a name. Since the sperm donor was a hundred percent human, he was considered . . . unimportant.”

Then I paused. I’d gone back and forth over revealing this next part, but so much had been kept from me that I couldn’t do the same to someone else. Especially a friend.

“I asked Madigan, but all we got out of him was that it was one of the soldiers I was working with at the time,” I finished.

Tate let out a disgusted snort.

“That’s why they kept getting samples of every fluid in our bodies. Don said it was to make sure no one was drinking vampire blood on the side, so even he must not have known what it was really for . . .”

His voice trailed off as the dots connected. Then he sank to his knees as if buckling under the weight of the realization. I wasn’t as affected because I’d already done the math. About two dozen soldiers had been working with me during my first year. Some had been killed on missions, more had dropped out from the stress, and some had transferred to other divisions, but only one had been there the entire time.

“My God,” Tate breathed.

“It’s not definite,” I said softly. “It could have been one of the other guys, but Tate . . . even if we tested both of you, there’s no way to be sure. Since you became a vampire, every cell in your body changed. Katie’s would’ve, too, once they added ghoul DNA to her genetic makeup.”

Tate still looked shell-shocked at the possibility that the little girl he’d been trying to find might be his biological daughter. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair and looked up at me.

“If tests are useless, she’ll never know who her father is.”

Bones slipped his hand into mine, his grip strong and sure.

“She will always know who her father is.”

That had Tate on his feet in a flash. Ian hauled him back when he lunged at Bones.

“You will not—” Tate began before his mouth froze along with the rest of him.

“That’s better,” Bones said in satisfaction.

I didn’t appreciate his method of stemming Tate’s argument, but in fairness, we were short on time.

I bridged the distance between them and touched Tate’s clenched fist, which had been frozen in place mid-swing.

“You have a one-in-twenty-something chance of being her biological father, so if you want to be part of Katie’s life, of course you can. Bones won’t stand in your way, but he’ll be there for her, too. As will I.”

Then I angled myself so Tate couldn’t avoid my gaze.

“But first, we have to get her out of here alive. That takes priority over everything else, doesn’t it?”

Tate blinked, which I took for a yes. Bones released him. The two men stared at each other while Tate shook his limbs as if to reassure himself that they were back under his control. Then his hands clenched, and a look of pure determination crossed his features.

Not again, I thought, expecting him to swing at Bones once more. Relief filled me when all Tate did was stick out his hand.

“I don’t like you, and I probably never will, but from this day forward, I’m willing to call a truce for Katie’s sake.”

Bones shook his hand with a brief, sardonic smile.

“Truce accepted, and while I feel the same way, just like Justina, seems now I’ll never be rid of you, either.”

Tate let out a bark of laughter. “I forgot this truce includes her mother. That’s some ugly karma the two of us are working off.”

Fabian flew onto the roof, stopping Bones from whatever his reply would have been.

“They’ve found her!” the ghost announced.

“That was bloody quick,” Ian muttered.

It was, but then again, no one could hide from the dead. Especially when they had you narrowed down to a small area. That’s why we’d dealt with Marie first instead of rushing here. She hadn’t known Katie was in Detroit, but with a little time, she would’ve found her.

I flashed a tight smile at the four men, feeling the vampire version of adrenaline surging through me.

“All right, boys. Let’s go get our girl.”

We landed on the roof of a large, square building with graffiti covering every inch of the safety ledge. Across the street, a far taller building blocked out the moonlight, its beautiful architecture in stark contrast to the rot I could smell within.

“Where are we?” I whispered.

“The Roosevelt Warehouse,” Bones said, also keeping his voice very low. “More commonly known as the Detroit book depository. Tunnels connect it to the old train station across the street. Perhaps that’s how Katie’s been traveling back and forth between the two.”

Fabian nodded, looking sad as he glanced around.

“I came here before, when it was new. I love books, but it’s so hard for me to read. I have to float behind people as they turn pages—”

“Fabian, where did the ghosts say Katie was?” I interrupted.

He snapped out of his reminiscing. “Follow me.”

Fabian passed through one of the barricaded doors of the hut-like structure on the roof. Impatience made me want to kick it open, but that would be too loud. I waited while Bones telekinetically pulled out the boards, then opened it as quietly as the rusted hinges allowed.