Stacia Kane - Unholy Ghosts

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Unholy Ghosts: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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THE DEPARTED HAVE ARRIVED.
The world is not the way it was. The dead have risen, and the living are under attack. The powerful Church of Real Truth, in charge since the government fell, has sworn to reimburse citizens being harassed by the deceased.
Consequently, there are many false claims of hauntings from those hoping to profit. Enter Chess Putnam, a fully-tattooed witch, freewheeling Debunker, and ghost hunter. She's got a real talent for nailing human liars and banishing the wicked dead. But she's keeping a dark secret from the Church: a little drug problem that's landed her in hot and dangerous water.
Chess owes a lot of money to a murderous drug lord named Bump. And Bump wants immediate payback. All Chess has to do is dispatch a very nasty species of undead from an old airport. But the job involves black magic, human sacrifice, a nefarious demonic creature, and crossing swords with enough wicked energy to wipe out a city of souls. Toss in lust for a rival gang leader and a dangerous attraction to Bump's ruthless enforcer, and Chess begins to wonder if the rush is really worth it. Hell, yeah.

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The darkness was so complete, not a hint of light anywhere. Too dark. Dark like the mouth of a predator.

Randy’s sobs echoed in the room. “He’s here, he’s here, please find the amulet, Chessie hurry…”

It was hard to focus on anything, even with adrenaline coursing through her body. Suddenly she was sleepy, so relaxed and sleepy, and it was so dark and the carpet was soft and thick. She could lie down here, curl up into a warm cozy ball and take a nap, she could…

“Stay awake!” she yelled, but her voice was drowned out by shattering glass. Behind her? The mirror, the dresser mirror. Ereshdiran must have smashed it. He’d gained so much strength since she saw him before, he could kill Randy, he could kill Terrible—would he kill her now? Did he still need her, with all the power he drew from the sleepers downstairs? The sleepers in the whole neighborhood?

Fear helped her eyes stay open as she fumbled into her bag, her movements clumsy and painful. The speed was in there, the Baggie Lex gave her.

“Chess?”

“Stay awake, Terrible, stay awake, just stay where you were, don’t move!”

Randy screamed. Something warm and wet splattered over Chess’s face, in her hair. Blood. She didn’t dare try to wipe it away, not when she needed both her hands to hunt for the two items that might keep her alive.

“Chess!”

The screaming continued, turning into sobs. She heard them moving, heard the bed creak as they ran into it. Something brushed against her hair but she had no idea if it was human or not. And all the while her eyelids got heavier, the fuzzy comfort of sleep slid into her head.

Ereshdiran appeared in front of her, his luminous face only inches from hers, his mouth open in a crooked, shrieking grin. Chess screamed and lost the Baggie just as her fingers touched it. It disappeared again into the depths of her bag.

Terrible grunted. Randy screamed. Cold wind blew across the back of her neck. The Dreamthief was playing with them, playing with her. Something sliced at the back of her left hand, just a kiss from the blade, a portent of what would come. She gasped and tried to ignore the feel of her own blood dribbling from the wound.

She found the Baggie, yanked it out, slid her fingernail into the seal with shaking hands. She had to stay awake, had to stay awake long enough…

The floor shook. The whole house shook. Ereshdiran’s power, strong the last time she’d seen him here, now sparked off him. He could bring this place down on them, would do it if she wasn’t fast enough—and the bastard would use some of her own power to do it. She could feel him pulling at her.

Terrible roared her name but she didn’t answer, focusing on the powder against her hand. No hairpin, no key, there wasn’t time. She scooped up as much as she could under her fingernail—not much, she kept her nails fairly short—and brought it to her face, hoping she wouldn’t miss.

She did. Something smashed across the room—a lamp crashing, she thought—and she ended up poking herself in the eye with a nailful of speed. A gasp escaped her throat, her eye felt like a bee had stung it, but it woke her up enough to try again while tears streamed down her face. All the while the room got colder and colder, so cold her toes were numb. Had she escaped after all? Was she asleep, in a dream, deep in the bowels of the thief?

Another crash, a thud. Randy screaming her name, sounding very far away. He’d been right beside her, where was he now? She ignored it, falling to her knees, her neck retreating between her shoulders as she tried again.

This time she made it. It wasn’t a big bump but it was enough. Her heart rate increased, her eyes snapped open.

“Terrible? Terrible, here.” She waved her hand in the air, trying to find him, and finally closed her fingers around one thick calf. It moved. His hand found hers, and she pressed the Baggie into it. “We have to stay awake.”

She heard the plastic rustle, heard him inhale once, twice. Then his hand squeezed her arm and he lifted her to her feet, pulling her against him as she lost her balance and they both hit the wall. His shirt was wet, with sweat or blood she didn’t know.

“No! Noooo!” Randy’s scream turned into a gurgle, a horrible choking sound, then stopped dead. Chess’s skin crawled. She found her flashlight, knowing it wouldn’t work, and switched it on.

It did work. The beam fell on Randy’s face, on his wide, staring eyes and the blood still trickling from the gaping hole where his throat should have been. She barely had time to take it in when the Dreamthief shoved the piece of mirror he’d used to kill Randy into the flashlight’s beam, throwing the light back at her, blinding her.

The light fell from her hand as Terrible grabbed her, his fingers painfully tight around her arm, ripping her out of her stupor and shoving her toward where the door had been. She couldn’t see a thing, the white spots in front of her eyes worse than the darkness.

“The amulet, we have to have—”

“I got it, just go!” Still holding her, he flung himself forward. She heard something thunk into the plaster where they’d just been as they fell through the door and onto the landing.

Pictures flew from the walls as Chess and Terrible tore down the stairs, in what could have been a run but was more like a tumble. She twisted her ankle at the bottom but did not let herself stop, feeling the Dreamthief behind them, knowing there was no escape.

They burst out into the shadowy night and started running across the lawn, heading for Terrible’s car on the next block. Probably not the safest place to be, but all Chess could think to do was try and get away. Get away, get to the airport, get the ritual done. She had no choice. Even the spells and wards at the Church might not be strong enough to protect her, not with the thief connected to her through blood.

Her chest felt ready to explode by the time they were halfway up the street. She didn’t dare look back. There was no point in looking back. He was after them, of course he was after them, they had the amulet. The one thing that might be able to control him, and the one thing that would draw him to her.

“Give me the amulet,” she managed to gasp.

He didn’t ask questions, but pressed it into her palm and closed her fingers around it.

Ereshdiran darted past them, a black streak in the orange streetlight glow. Chess sucked as much air as she could into her aching lungs and said the generic Banishing words she’d learned five years before, the first words of power any Church employee learned. “Arcranda beliam dishager!”

They didn’t stop to see if it worked. It probably hadn’t, and it certainly hadn’t worked permanently. But if it bought them a few minutes, enough time to get in the car and get moving, enough time to keep Banishing him until she could start the ritual, it would be worth it.

They reached the car, finally, yanking the doors open and throwing themselves inside. Terrible had the keys in the ignition and the engine started before she’d managed to sit up straight, and they peeled away in a cloud of heavy exhaust, the rear end of the car fishtailing as it leapt away from the curb.

The Chevelle ate up the highway, sliding in and out of traffic with a low, contented purr. Chess stared out the window, watching other cars disappear behind them, until her hands stopped shaking.

The first thing she did was another bump, a proper one this time. The second was to drink half her water and hand it to Terrible to finish.

“You right, Chess? You get hurt?”

“No, I’m okay. You?”

He shrugged. Light from the dash caught on the shard of mirror protruding from his left arm.

“You’re not, you got stabbed—”

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