At that, a white-and-tan dog with rolls of flesh decorating his shoulders and a face that looked perpetually smashed came out from underneath the desk.
“Aww, who’s Daddy’s little baby?” Tyler cooed, patting his lap.
More nasally grunts ensued, sounding joyous this time, before the bundle of flesh and fur landed on Tyler’s lap hard enough to elicit an “oof” from the medium.
“Baby needs to lay off the burgers or he’ll break daddy’s hip one day,” Tyler continued in the same singsong manner.
I tended to agree. With his leanness and Dexter’s size, the dog had to be about a third of his master’s weight. The medium didn’t seem to mind, though. He beamed at Bones and me.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?”
With those rolls, the wet-sounding grunts, bulbous wiggly tail, and smashed face—not to mention the fart the dog let out once he situated himself—he was gorgeous in a way that only a parent could appreciate. But the open joy in Dexter’s furry countenance as I stuck my hand out to pet him made me forget his less-than-aesthetic qualities.
“Who’s a good, pretty boy?” I asked, scratching Dexter’s ears and getting my wrist thoroughly licked in the process. The dog shuddered in delight, barely staying on Tyler’s lap as he shifted to get closer.
“You have a friend forever now, sweetie,” Tyler said, gripping Dexter more firmly so the dog didn’t topple over. “So tell me, what sort of haunting are the two of you experiencing?”
“We’re looking for someone who can summon and kill a ghost,” Bones stated.
Tyler’s brows went up, and some of that flirtatious sparkle left his gaze. “Why?” he asked bluntly.
I pulled out my iPad, a few taps bringing up the text of the Malleus Maleficarum. Then I held it up so Tyler could see it.
“Because the asshole who wrote this came back after he died,” I replied. “And he’s found a way to keep murdering people.”
Tyler took the tablet from me with one hand while the other still held the dog. Somehow he managed to brace it against a knee and scroll down through the pages without dislodging Dexter from his perch. Great, a crazy couple, ran through Tyler’s mind as he read some of the text. They actually think they’ve got the ghost of an infamous witch hunter haunting their house!
Bones leaned forward, his smile showing the tips of his fangs. “We’re not crazy, and this sod isn’t haunting our anything.”
Tyler’s head whipped up, his expression changing as he spotted the new pointy canines in Bones’s teeth and realized he hadn’t said that last sentence out loud.
“Oh,” he said at last. “Sorry. My friends didn’t mention certain . . . details about you, and you wouldn’t believe how nutty some people are. Just last week, I had a woman convinced her trailer was haunted by Tupac, as if he’d want to spend eternity in a double wide that smelled like cat piss.”
That made my lips twitch, but Bones stayed on topic. “Now that we’ve cleared up the issue of our sanity, let’s move on to our query.”
Tyler gently shooed Dexter from his lap with a “Daddy’s got to work” explanation that nevertheless drew a whine before Dexter went under the desk again. A loud exhalation, like a sigh, preceded the sound of the dog’s plopping down on something soft. Spoiled rotten, I noted in amusement, but that only raised my opinion of Tyler. Kindness toward the voiceless or the vulnerable, like animals and children, usually denoted good character in a person.
“How do you know you’re dealing with the shade of Heinrich Kramer and that he’s able to kill people?” Tyler asked, all business now.
“Ghostly informant,” Bones replied.
Tyler nodded as if that response wasn’t unusual. “Is that the only confirmation? Ghosts lie sometimes.”
The glance Bones cast my way said he’d considered this possibility. “All we have is the ghost’s word.”
Tyler gave both of us an unblinking look. “I can’t kill a ghost, but I know some people who might be able to. Before I give you their names and put in a good word for you, I need to make sure I’m not setting up an innocent person.”
I doubted that Elisabeth had made all this up, but I’d been lied to convincingly before. Just because she seemed nice and Fabian had a crush on her didn’t mean we should blindly trust a virtual stranger when we had the chance to confirm the facts for ourselves. I exchanged a long, wordless look with Bones. We could green-eye the information out of Tyler, but from the brush of his emotions, Bones also wanted further corroboration on the identity of the ghost Elisabeth had sent us after.
“If you have a way to make sure that what we’ve been told is true, do it,” I told him.
Tyler stood, brushing Dexter’s hair from his pants. “All right,” he said, his tone chipper once more. “Time to talk to the dead.”
Six
I stared at the cardboard box Tyler returned with.
“A Ouija board? That’s how you intend to prove we’re dealing with a murderous Heinrich Kramer instead of Casper the Friendly Ghost?”
If this was his method of identity verification, five bucks said Tyler’s idea to dispatch Kramer would involve playing “light as a feather, stiff as a board.” Or calling forth Bloody Mary from a mirror to send her after the witch hunter.
“When used properly, Ouija boards open doors to the other side,” Tyler replied, setting the box on his desk. “All we have to do is knock on the right one.”
He began to clear things off to make room, humming the whole time. I looked at Bones, surprised he hadn’t offered an instant objection to this tactic, but all he did was tap his chin thoughtfully.
“Spade said his demonologist mates spoke highly of Tyler, so we’ll trust that he knows what tools to work with.”
Or Spade is just paying us back for exposing Denise to what he considered “dangerous circumstances” recently, I added, but didn’t say out loud. Might as well see where this led us, though a session with a Ouija board in a flower shop was hardly the way I imagined we’d summon a potentially evil spirit. Holding a séance in a graveyard at midnight with some ancient relics seemed far more appropriate.
Tyler had the board opened up on the desk, its symbols looking more hokey than supernatural, heart-shaped planchette pushed to the side. Then he disappeared into the main part of the shop before returning with some fragrant potted plants and a box of matches.
“All right, ready,” Tyler declared, giving us both an appraising glance. “Bones is a vampire, and I’m guessing you are, too, but who’s more powerful?”
“She is,” Bones replied at once.
I was about to argue since Bones was a damn sight stronger and faster than me, plus had centuries more fighting experience; but with a start, I realized he was right. With Marie Laveau’s control over the grave still residing in my body, I was more powerful than even most Masters.
Until that borrowed power wore off, anyway.
I cleared my throat, feeling a stab of uneasiness as I realized for the first time in our relationship, I ranked higher than Bones ability-wise—and he knew it.
“Are you okay with that?” I blurted, forgetting for a moment that we had an audience. Bones had never been the insecure type, but an abrupt shift in a couple’s dynamic had caused rifts in lots of relationships before ours.
His amusement wafted through my emotions even before he started to grin. “The last thing you need to fret about is my feeling emasculated, Kitten; but talk is cheap, so I’ll be sure to show you later.”
His voice was rich with so many undercurrents, I grew warmer just listening to him. Then Bones’s expression became serious, and he leaned forward to brush my hand.
“I’ve watched you barely escape death several times, and each instance killed me a little inside. They may be dormant now, but we have enemies both cunning and cruel. Knowing you possess the power to defeat most of them doesn’t threaten me, luv. It relieves me to my very core.”
Bones also knew that power wasn’t permanent, but as he’d pointed out in the
car, the present was what mattered. For the present, I had these abilities. For the present, things were good. That was what I’d dwell on.
“So honest and sure of yourself.” Tyler licked his lips. “You get sexier by the minute, sugar.”
“Ahem.” I pulled my gaze away from Bones to give Tyler a pointed look. “Mine, remember?”
Tyler waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah.” But I’m having GOOD dreams tonight, he mentally finished.
I rolled my eyes. Bones just snorted. “Can’t sleep until you finish with us here, Sandman, so let’s get on with it.”
Tyler scooted his chair closer to the edge of the desk, the Ouija board between me and him.
“Put your fingertips on the planchette, Cat,” he instructed.
I copied the placement of his fingers on the small device, noting that my nails could use some attention, but a manicure had been way low on my list of priorities. Even though I didn’t exert any pressure, the planchette jerked beneath my light touch, causing Tyler to cock his brow.
“Lots of juice in you, hmm?” he noted.
I wasn’t about to explain the reason behind it, so I just shrugged. Tyler started to recite a series of invitations to any spirits who were nearby. Crackling energy filled the air as the planchette began to edge around the board in irregular circles, powered by something other than our touch. Bones sat back, watching us with a hooded expression, his gaze flickering between the board and the rest of the room.
A drawn-out, keening noise made me jump before I realized that it came from the canine underneath the desk. You’d think since I lived with a ghost and had dozens more camped around my house, engaging in a séance wouldn’t rattle me, but it did. Maybe because it felt like I was trespassing somewhere that I didn’t belong instead of just having some unusual friends or visitors.
“Does that mean Dexter has to pee?” I muttered, as the dog’s whine grew into a loud bark.
“No.” Tyler’s voice was tighter than before. “Animals can sense the supernatural better than most people. It means someone’s coming.”
Right after the words left his mouth, I felt the shift in the air, like a freezer door had abruptly blown open. Icy needles ran along my skin, prickling me with power that wasn’t of this world. Someone wasn’t coming—he or she was here.
The planchette spun around the board the same time as a hazy figure materialized behind Tyler. He shivered.
“I think someone’s here now,” Tyler whispered. Then louder, “Who is with us? Tell us your name.”
“Beth Ann,” the cloudy figure replied while the planchette raced to land over the letter “B,” then “E.”
“Someone’s definitely here,” Tyler said under his breath as “T” was the next letter highlighted.
“She’s right behind you,” Bones replied.
Tyler jerked around in his seat, his face level with the midsection of the ghost. From her high-necked garb and long, wide skirt, she wasn’t a newbie. That style had gone out well over a century ago.
“I don’t see anyone yet,” he mused.
“Really?” I asked in surprise. The ghost had manifested fully, even revealing slight pockmarks on her cheeks along with salt-and-pepper hair.
“It takes mortals longer to see us, even the gifted ones,” Beth Ann replied, looking back and forth between me and Bones. “Not so with those of your ilk.”
Her disdain for vampires came through crystal clear, too. Most ghosts who were drawn to me because of my borrowed power seemed not to mind the fact that I was a vampire, but this one obviously did.
“Hey, sorry if we bothered you, but there’s no need to be snippy.”
“Did she tell you her name?” Tyler asked low.
“Yeah. It’s Beth Ann, and she’s a little grumpy.”
Tyler leaned forward as if to see better. It put his face squarely at the apex between Beth Ann’s legs. She jumped back, incensed, even as I struggled to stuff back a laugh. Evidently he still couldn’t see her yet.
“Filthy reprobate!” the ghost spat.
“Beth Ann, give us a sign of your presence,” Tyler said in a commanding way, oblivious to what had just happened.
The ghost slapped his face, her hand passing right through. Tyler frowned.
“I felt a cold breeze just then. Did she do something?”
“She gave a sign of her presence,” Bones replied, his lips twitching.
“Normally it takes longer for one to appear and interact with us,” Tyler said, sounding bemused. His gaze slid to me. “You must be the wild card.”
If he only knew. “Okay, well, now what?”
Tyler replied, but it was drowned out by Beth Ann’s loud, indignant response. “If you presume I will do anything for a group of disgusting ruffians such as yourselves—”
“Shh,” I told her, trying to make out what Tyler was saying.
She quieted instantly, her eyes widening in shock. Damn, I’d just taken away her ability to speak. Guess shushing her was the same as giving her an order to be silent.
“—that the door’s open, we can attempt to summon your witch hunter,” Tyler finished.
“So Beth Ann doesn’t need to stay?” I asked, feeling guilty as her mouth opened and closed in a series of futile attempts to talk.
“No. I’ll send her away—”
“You can speak again, and feel free to go back to where you were before,” I told her with an apologetic wave.
The ghost vanished after snarling out a sentence that raised my brows. Well. She’d certainly learned some colorful phrases in her time.
“Prim-looking ladies always were the dirtiest,” Bones commented, chuckling at my expression.
Considering his former occupation, he should know. I shook my head, answering, “Yep” to Tyler’s question if the ghost was gone.
“All right, let’s try for the main event.” Tyler sounded enthused. “Keep touching the planchette, Cat.”
I put my fingertips on the device again, feeling the pulsating throb that came from it. Maybe that was why it was shaped like a heart. Symbolism for what it felt like when it was properly activated.
“What’s the witch hunter’s name again?” Tyler asked.
“Heinrich Kramer.”
“Heinriiich Kraaaaaaaaamer,” Tyler drew out in dramatic fashion. He even lolled his head back and closed his eyes. “We summon you into our presence. Heed our call, Heinrich Kramer. Come to us now. We summon through the veil the spirit of Heinrich Kramer—”
Dexter let out a sharp noise that was part whine, part bark. Tyler quit speaking. I tensed, feeling the grate of invisible icicles across my skin again. Bones’s gaze narrowed at a point over my right shoulder. Slowly, I turned my head in that direction.
All I saw was a swirl of darkness before the Ouija board flew across the room—and the point of the little wooden planchette buried in Tyler’s throat.
Seven
I sprang up and tried to grab Tyler, only to be knocked backward like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer. Stunned, it took me a second to register that I was pinned to the wall by the desk, that dark cloud on the other side of it.
The ghost had successfully managed to use the desk as a weapon against me. If it hadn’t been still jabbed in my stomach, I wouldn’t even have believed it.
Bones threw the desk aside before I could, flinging it so hard that it split down the center when it hit the other wall. Dexter barked and jumped around, trying to bite the charcoal-colored cloud that was forming into the shape of a tall man. Tyler made a horrible gurgling noise, clutching his throat. Blood leaked out between his fingers.
“Bones, fix him. I’ll deal with this asshole.”
Dexter’s barks drowned out the sounds Tyler made as Bones slashed his palm with his fangs, then slapped it over Tyler’s mouth, ripping out the planchette at the same time.
Pieces of the desk suddenly became missiles that pelted the three of us. Bones spun around to take their brunt, shielding Tyler, while I jumped to cover the dog. A
pained yelp let me know at least one had nailed Dexter before I got to him. Tyler’s gurgles became wrenching coughs.
“Boy, did you make a colossal fucking mistake,” I snarled, grabbing a piece of the ruined desk. Then I stood up, still blocking the dog from any more objects the ghost could lob at him. He’d materialized enough for me to see white hair swirling around a craggy, wrinkled face. The ghost hadn’t been young when he died, but the shoulders underneath his dark tunic weren’t bowed from age. They were squared in arrogance, and the green eyes boring into mine held nothing but contempt.
“Hure,” the ghost muttered before thrusting his hand into my neck and squeezing like he was about to choke me. I felt a stronger than normal pins-and-needles sensation but didn’t flinch. If this schmuck thought to terrify me with a cheap parlor trick like that, wait until he saw my first abracadabra.
“Heinrich Kramer?” I asked almost as an afterthought. Didn’t matter if it wasn’t him, he would regret what he did, but I wanted to know whose ass I was about to kick.
“Address me as Inquisitor,” the ghost replied in a heavy accent. At least he spoke English; I didn’t know a word of German.
I smiled nastily. “You know that witchcraft you pretended to try and stamp out when you were alive? I’ve got it running all through my veins.” Then I sliced open my wrist with the ragged edge of a piece of desk, blood dripping in slow plops before the wound healed.
If I wanted to summon a legion of regular ghosts to my side, I’d shed tears, but blood, combined with my inner roar of come and get him, boys! was shed to summon a different kind of spectre, all courtesy of my borrowed abilities from New Orleans’ most famous voodoo queen. Cold, seething power streaked through my body, electrifying my nerves and filling the room with an abundance of supernatural energy. The ghost could feel it, too, I could tell. A frown replaced the sneer on his face. Dexter squeaked and limped out of the room.
In the next instant, shadows sprang up from the floor, flinging themselves upon the ghost with all of the hunger that the grave held within it. It wasn’t her expertise with spells or potions that made vampires and ghouls alike fear Marie Laveau. It was her ability to call forth Remnants and bend them to her will, just like I was doing now. As one, the Remnants began to rip through the ghost’s body, eliciting a howl from Kramer that I savored like candy. Remnants fed on pain, and it sounded like the Inquisitor was serving up a banquet. I didn’t know if they could kill the ghost, Kramer lacking the flesh that they could eventually explode, but I was willing to let them do their best to find out.