Stacey Kade: Queen of the Dead

I shifted uncomfortably and kept my gaze locked firmly on a nearby tangle of leaves. “If that security guard sees the branches moving, he’s going to come running over here,” I warned. Thanks to my “gift,” if that’s what you wanted to call it, Alona — and all other ghosts — had physicality around me, the same as she would have if she were alive. Dopey might not be able to see her, but he’d definitely notice the bushes moving in a way that didn’t look wind-generated.

“He’d have to be awake first,” she said back, mimicking my warning tone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her switch legs and stretch the other one, giving a small sigh of pleasure.

I swallowed hard. I guess stretching still felt good even when you were a ghost. I know it looked good.

“There. Much better.” She sat down next to me again, closer than before. Her shoulder pressed into me, and her leg rested against mine.

Thirty seconds ago, I’d been concerned about nothing other than finding Mrs. Ruiz and getting in and out of the house undetected. Now all I could think about were those two points of contact between us, connecting in a white-hot line of awareness.

I turned to see her watching, so close, so very close to me.

“What?” she asked.

I cleared my throat. “You have a…” I reached out and pulled a bit of leaf from her hair. The blond strands slipped like silk through my fingers. I’d touched her hair before, wrapped my hands in it when kissing her, as a matter of fact, and I wanted nothing more than to do it again right now.

“Thanks.” Her mouth curved in a knowing smile, and I was lost, even though I knew better.

I leaned closer, drawn to her mouth like it was pulling me in with some mysterious gravity of its own, half expecting her to push me away.

But she didn’t. Her mouth was warm and soft under mine.

I sat up straighter without breaking the kiss and slid my hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer and slipping my fingers into her hair again.

She moved with me willingly and made that same sound of pleasure I’d heard from her before. I could feel her softness pressing against my chest. Oh, God. She just felt so good.

I pulled back for a second and watched her eyes open slowly. She looked as dazed as I felt, but with a touch of self-satisfaction. She’d planned this, of course.

“So is this when you try to talk me into leaving again?” I asked, breathless. I was all too aware that Alona knew my weak spots and wasn’t afraid to use them against me. Not that I minded at this exact moment.

She didn’t try to deny it. She leaned in and kissed the edge of my mouth. “Maybe I’m not so bored now.”

Good enough.

She rose up on her knees and balanced herself with her hands on my shoulders before laying a series of tiny kisses along my cheek. Her breath was warm, and her eyelashes fluttered against my skin like small caresses. Her scent filled me, overwhelmed me with the desire to shut out everything but her. This girl who equally drove me crazy and made me care about her more than I should. She was the only one who understood. The only one who could help make what I was more bearable, even if she occasionally tortured me in the process.

I slid my hand down her back to her hip, where the edge of her shirt met her shorts. And she let me. More than that, she moved closer, her mouth suddenly hungry on mine. My hand slipped under the hem, and I stroked the bare, warm skin of her stomach with my thumb.

She pulled back sharply, her hand catching mine and holding it in place. “Wait.”

I shook my head, trying to think while my body was screaming at me to keep going. “Sorry, I just—”

“No.” She squeezed my hand. “I hear something.”

I don’t care! I wanted to shout, but I swallowed the words.

She let go of my hand and cautiously pushed herself up to her feet to look out and over the tangle of brush that protected us from view of anyone walking by.

“Is it Dopey?” I whispered, taking advantage of her momentary distraction to try to adjust the front of my pants. If I had to run now, I’d be in big trouble.

“No.” Her voice held a strange note. “Not him.”

“Well, then what—”

She turned to face me, and I realized what I’d heard in her voice was suppressed laughter. The very same thing danced over her expression.

“It’s Mrs. Ruiz,” she said. “I think.” She sounded almost gleeful.

Ah, now it made sense. Because Alona had been off doing whatever when Mrs. Ruiz had approached me, this was her first glimpse of the…woman.

“Don’t,” I told her. “We’re here to help.”

I stood up, carefully, and peered out to see for myself.

Alona was right. Directly across from us, Mrs. Ruiz had finally materialized, her garden spade in hand. She was looking around like she was searching for just the right location to dig the hole that would kill her.

“Are you sure it’s Mrs. Ruiz?” Alona whispered in my ear, clearly delighted.

Okay, so Mrs. Ruiz was not a small woman or particularly…feminine. She was beefy with broad shoulders that belonged on a coal miner. The shapeless but heavily patterned housedress she wore didn’t help matters, making herlook that much more like a man in drag. The not-so-faint outline of a mustache on her upper lip was a little…off-putting as well. But still, she needed our help.

“Stop,” I said to Alona. Then I eased out from behind the tangle of branches, keeping an eye on Dopey, who, thankfully, continued to snore throatily. Alona followed.

Mrs. Ruiz saw us coming and gave me a curt nod of acknowledgment. She frowned at Alona, which had the unfortunate effect of drawing her two eyebrows into one big one. I could almost feel Alona shaking with the need to spout something spiteful but funny.

“Some people aren’t as obsessed with appearances as you are,” I said quietly over my shoulder to Alona.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be obsessed with my appearance if I were her, either,” Alona said, not as quietly as I would have liked.

“This way,” Mrs. Ruiz said when we were close enough. She gave Alona another dark look and then slung her spade over her shoulder and started toward the house, ignoring Dopey and his car like they weren’t even there.

“Cut it out,” I said to Alona under my breath once we’d passed the security guard and Mrs. Ruiz was far enough ahead on the worn walkway to the front door.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Even you can’t blame me for this one.”

“I mean it.”

She stayed quiet for a second. Then she looked thoughtful. “Ten bucks says she’s got a tattoo of an anchor somewhere on her body.”

“Alona!” I whispered as loudly as I dared.

“What, you’ve seen it?”

I glared at her.

“She has a ’stache that would put a porn star to shame — hello, it’s called waxing? — and you’re lecturing me about—”

I pointed to her feet, which were beginning to flicker in and out of existence, as though a faulty movie projector were involved.

She sighed. “Damn.”

A being of mostly energy, she was dependent on keeping the energy flowing by remaining positive, i.e., nice. Which annoyed her to no end, unfortunately. Made for some highly entertaining moments on my end, though.

“She looks very strong and was probably very…capable at her job,” Alona said carefully. I could see she was dying to make some further remark, like how it was hard to keep a good man down. Or, how handy it was that she could carry the cows around while she milked them, or whatever. “You suck the fun out of everything,” she said to me.

It wasn’t my rule, just a rule of existence here, but I knewshe hated being reminded of it. “Everything?” I asked, takingin her rumpled hair and the way her lips still looked puffier than usual, thanks to our kissing session.