Stacia Kane - Unholy Ghosts

“Ain’t so bad. I been got worse.”

“Oh? Like what?” She just wanted him to talk, about anything. Just wanted to hear his calm, low voice like gravel poured over the rough ground of her terror.

“Aye. Dame I know bit me once.”

She laughed in spite of herself, a surprised laugh like a hiccup. “You mean you let a girl hurt you?”

“Some dames I let do whatany they want.”

She had no idea how to reply to that; her face heated. He was joking, had to be. She would never forget the look on his face at Trickster’s, how pissed off he’d been, how he’d just given up on her.

Even though she wasn’t supposed to remember it at all. So what did he mean? If he thought she didn’t remember—Oh, fuck it. Best to ignore the whole thing.

After a minute he cleared his throat and said, “So Randy. He brung the ghost to get money, aye?”

“Yeah.” She spoke a little too loudly, a little too grateful for the change of subject. “Well, basically. First he was going to fake a haunting, to get a payout from the Church. But then I got the case instead of him—he was next in the queue, but Elder Griffin gave it to me—so they had to get a real ghost, because I would have caught them faking it. I guess they didn’t realize that I’d found the amulet, and my—my blood had touched it. Um, had fed the thief and given him power. But they were already raising him and I guess they figured it would be easy enough to send him to the Mortons’ house before they used him against the Church, so…Yeah. He did it.”

“Not that Goody.”

“No.” She wished he hadn’t mentioned that. It was embarrassing enough having been so stupid and wrong, without being reminded that he knew she’d been stupid and wrong. “Randy and the Mortons went to the Spa, and that’s where he met whoever recruited him into the Lamaru. He just…gave her the key ring. I mean, I assume.”

“Trying to get what he want from her, aye? Figure he play her on the good side, she give him the push-up.”

“And she probably would have, if—”

Ereshdiran’s face appeared in the center of the windshield, leering at them, his black cloak flying around him like tentacles whipping the air. Chess screamed, cringing against the back of her seat, then hitting the door when Terrible swerved to the left.

Ereshdiran disappeared. Something heavy hit the roof of the car, bowing it down. Terrible sped up, so fast the lines on the road blurred, skipping onto the shoulder and opening the powerful engine all the way. The cars they passed disappeared but the weight stayed on the roof.

“It’s not him,” she said, as the thing slammed onto the car again. “He doesn’t have weight, he’s holding something—”

Terrible’s right arm shot out and hit her chest, knocking the wind out of her. He slammed on the brakes. The heavy nose of the car angled down, the rear rising. Rubber howled against cement. Ereshdiran flew forward, dropping the stone he’d been beating the car with. It rolled off to the side. Terrible threw the car back into first and slammed the gas so hard the engine shrieked.

“No, you can’t—”

They hit Ereshdiran, drove right through him. For a second, ice filled her body, filled her mind, making her scream again. The sensation ended before the sound had a chance to hit the air.

The Dreamthief came back, pouring himself into the car, his chilling fingers slithering over her skin. Terrible gasped; she looked over to see the shard of mirror in his arm twisting, disappearing into his flesh. His fingers convulsed on the wheel but the car did not slow down, did not waver.

She lifted the amulet, shouted the Banishing words. The thief winced but did not disappear. She shouted again, louder, using every bit of breath and power she had in her body. He wavered, the mirror slipping from his fingers as they grew transparent again.

One more time. “Arcranda beliam dishager!”

It worked. Ereshdiran disappeared as the Chevelle swooped down the exit ramp, heading for the airport. The airport, and the end of it all. One way or another.

A crowd waited for them in the muddy parking lot. Bump in full regalia, complete with ragged cape. Some of his men, smoking cigarettes, standing tough in little groups like mine clusters. They all turned, hands automatically dropping to knife holsters at their waists when the headlights hit them, then relaxing again when they recognized the car.

“Ay, lookie be my ladybird.” Bump oozed toward the car as Chess got out, his shiny boots gleaming. “Ready do your witchy thing?”

She nodded, figuring if she pretended she was ready she eventually would be. Probably when it was all over.

“Benefit. Slipknot set up on yon fuckin field, yay? Terrible chatter me what you needing, on the earlier. All ready your fuckin thing, get done, we straight.”

“Right.” She guessed Terrible had called when she was in the Church; she hadn’t even thought to ask him if he’d arranged to have everything set up for her. Everything except what was in her bag, and in the trunk of his car. All of her equipment.

“So why the stand here? We fuckin move, yay?”

Again, she nodded. Her throat felt too constricted to push words through.

The walk through the fence, across the scattered chunks of runway, felt like a funeral pro cession. Which in a way she guessed it was. Slipknot, at least, would be set free—or at least, sent into a more comfortable prison. The rest of them…

Her phone buzzed at her hip. Lex again. He’d called a dozen times, left messages she hadn’t bothered to listen to. The men were walking ahead of her, their backs swaying gently as they picked their way through the rubble. She answered the phone.

“Tulip! Damn, thought maybe you was dead. Why you didn’t wait for me before?”

“I told you why. I couldn’t hear you very well, and—”

“Aye, check it. Need to talk to you, like now. Come meet me.”

“I can’t, I’m—”

“I know where you at, and I know what you up to. Gotta get some words in first. I’m at the far end of the runway, dig? Over the fence. By them houses. Get over here, we gotta get straight ere you do all you might think again on later.”

“I can’t,” she repeated. Terrible glanced back at her, and she lowered her voice. “This isn’t about—it’s not about what we talked about.”

“This about that thief, aye? Gotta talk to you, tulip. Don’t care how you fix it. You get here. I got some knowledge you need right.”

“Why can’t you just tell—” she started, but he’d already hung up. Shit.

Ahead of her, off to the left in the center of the field, Slipknot’s corpse made a pale splotch on a platform fashioned from rough wooden crates. Best to have him off the ground, make sure nothing interfered…They were almost there.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” It wasn’t a great excuse, but it was the only one she could think of that would be irrefutably believed and would give her some privacy. Being caught here with Lex would not be healthy at all.

“Ain’t it wait?” Bump looked her up and down, as if trying to assess how badly she needed to go. And of course, she realized she kind of did need to go, which worked out wonderfully. Now she’d have to talk to Lex and not go, which meant she would still have to when she got back, unless she wanted to take the time to both talk to Lex and go, in which case they would wonder just what exactly she was doing.

“No. It can’t wait.”

He nodded. “Terrible, go with she ladybird, keep your eyes on right.”