I closed my eyes, trying to picture the trails of spectral light I’d seen when the other side of the grave first opened to me back in New Orleans. Something that felt like gooseflesh danced across my skin, but it wasn’t cold out, and I wasn’t afraid. I was calm, because I knew they were close. Come, I thought, seeking them with the power that resided in my veins. Come.
Behind me, Kira let out a hiss even as Bones said quietly, “Four of them just showed up, luv.” I kept my eyes closed, smiling so those who came would know they were welcomed, and continued to pull on the power inside me. Before, I’d had to be angry, or afraid, or in pain to activate the power I’d borrowed from Vlad and Mencheres, but this was something different. Stillness was what called to the residents of the grave, not seething emotions.
“Five more,” Bones said, a question in his voice I didn’t answer out loud. No, I wasn’t done. More were close by. I could feel them.
A chill blew through the warm summer air. Not frigid. Pleasant, like the kiss of frost on a fevered brow. I invited it to come nearer, and it accepted, the coolness settling over me with a slow, sweet lethargy. It grew inside me, urging me to release myself to it. I didn’t fight it, but surrendered, letting it settle all the way through me.
“Eight more,” Bones said, almost a growl.
I heard him, but still didn’t respond, falling into the white emptiness that attached itself to the center of me. The more I let my fear, grief, and stress slide away from me, the bigger that inner sphere grew, replacing those emotions with cool, blissful nothingness. It was such a relief to let my burdens fall to the ground, swallowed up by the soothing white emptiness. How had I ever lasted so longer under the weight of the pain? Now with it finally gone, I felt like I could fly.
Bones said something else, but I didn’t hear what this time. Wave after wave of peace crested over me, insulating me from everything except the cool, restful silence inside me. This was bliss. This was freedom. I reveled in it, never wanting it to end.
A thread reached down into my consciousness, tugging me back. Bones’s voice, sounding harsh in worry. It chased away some of that beautiful nothingness, replacing it with concern. It was so calm and peaceful where I was . . . but I didn’t like hearing him that way.
His voice came again, more urgent this time. Sandbags of distress seemed to form on top of me, holding me down from that floating, freeing emptiness. They formed a path that I followed, each step piling on every painful emotion I’d let go of before, but I didn’t turn around. Bones was at the end of this road. That was more important than all the blissful barrenness behind me.
All of a sudden, I had more than his voice. His face was only inches away, dark brows drawn together as he said my name, louder, strong hands shaking my shoulders.
“I’m right here, no need to yell,” I murmured.
Bones closed his eyes briefly before speaking again. “You turned white as chalk and then crumpled to the floor. I’ve been calling your name trying to rouse you these past ten minutes.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my face against his. “Sorry.”
At the feel of wetness, I touched my cheek and then looked at the pink glistening drops on my fingers.
Tears. “I was crying?” Odd. I didn’t remember feeling sad.
“Yes,” Bones rasped. “You were, and yet the whole time, you were still smiling.”
Eesh. That sounded kinda creepy. “Did it work?” I remember him rattling off some numbers before, but I didn’t know if those ghosts were still here. I was on the porch floor, and Bones’s body blocked out most of what was around me.
“Oh, it bloody well did,” he replied. Then he sat back, lifting me up with him. The rest of the porch and surrounding yard came into view.
I couldn’t control my gasp at the dozens and dozens of transparent forms that lined up around our house. I could barely even make out all their faces, there were so many of them floating by each other. Good God! It was like being back in New Orleans. How was this possible? I’d only summoned five ghosts the last time I tried this with Vlad and that had been in cemetery, for crying out loud!
“Are these the Remnants you guys were talking about?” Kira asked, sounding rattled.
“No.” Amazement was still in my voice. “They’re regular ghosts.”
One of the hazy forms zoomed up yard and onto the porch. “Cat!”
It took a second, but then those indistinct features solidified into someone I recognized.
“Hey, Fabian,” I said, trying to lighten his concern with a joke. “I see you got my page.”
He reached out, his fingers passing through my cheek. “Your tears were like a rope that pulled me to you,” he said.
Wasn’t that ironic? It was blood that raised and controlled the Remnants, but maybe tears did the same for ghosts. That had to be the wild card. I’d bled in the cemetery with Vlad, plus been angry, frustrated, and sad, but I hadn’t cried. Yet ten minutes of tapping into that stillness inside combined with tears and now I had a veritable army of spectres on my lawn.
“I’m all right,” I said to Bones and Fabian since both of them were watching me with concerned expressions. “Really,” I added. “Now that we’ve got a good crowd, let’s do this.”
I stood up, going to the end of the patio that overlooked the area where the ghosts were the thickest, though more were coming, from the rustling back by the tree line.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, trying to sound confident. “My name is Cat. There’s something very important I need to ask you to do.”
“ ’Ello, mistress,” a vaguely familiar voice boomed out. “Not thought to see you again.”
I cocked my head at the ghost who flitted between the others to the front of the group. He had graying brown hair, a barrel belly, and he obviously hadn’t shaved any time soon before he’d died. Something about him nagged at my memory, however. Where had I seen him before . . . ?
“Winston Gallagher!” I said, recognizing the first ghost I’d met.
He cast a disappointed look at my empty hands. “No moonshine? Ah, yer a cruel one, to summon me here without a drop of nourishment.”
Never let it be said that something as simple as death could cure alcoholism, I thought irreverently, remembering all the moonshine the ghost had coerced me into drinking the night we met. Then my eyes narrowed and I covered my hand in front of my crotch as I saw Winston’s gaze fasten there next.
“Don’t you even think of poltergeisting my panties again,” I warned him, adding in a louder voice. “That goes for everyone else here, too.”
“This is the sod?” Bones started down the porch stairs even as Winston began to edge away. “Come back here, you scurvy little—”
“Bones, don’t!” I interrupted, not wanting him to start using slurs that might offend the other living-impaireds gathered here.
He stopped, giving a last glare to Winston while mouthing, You. Me. Exorcist, before returning to my side.
I shook my head. Vampire territorialism. It had no sense of appropriate timing.
“As I said, there’s something very important I need you to do. I’m looking for a ghoul who’s trying to start a war among the undead, and he’ll have a lot of other pissed-off, vampire-hating ghouls with him.”
It would be a huge task, but if Marie found Gregor through ghosts with no clue where he was in the world, then I should be able to find Apollyon a lot easier with what I knew.
“Ride the ley lines,” I said, feeling like a warped version of General Patton rallying my troops. “Tell your friends and get them hunting, too. Search all the larger funeral homes that are bordered by cemeteries. Find the short ghoul with the black comb-around that goes by the name of Apollyon, and then come right back and tell me where he is.”
“Not you, luv,” Bones said at once. “Fabian. Have them report to Fabian, who will then relay it to you.”
Good point. I trusted Marie’s power enough to believe that every ghost I personally spoke to wouldn’t betray me,
but I was enlisting others who’d never met me. No need to have this plan backfire by leading Apollyon right to me instead of vice versa.
I gestured to the ghost at my side. “Wait. Report back to Fabian, my right-hand man. He’ll stay here so you’ll be able to find him.”
Fabian’s chest puffed out at my declaration, a beaming smile spreading across his face. I rested my hand over where his shoulder would be, meeting the gaze of every ghost who stared at me.
“Now go,” I urged them. “Hurry.”
Chapter Thirty-five
A silvery blur flitted over the other cars in the parking lot before diving into our black van. We were only a couple miles away from the Lasting Peace cemetery and funeral home in Garland, Texas. It had taken Marie Laveau twelve years of sending out ghosts to find Gregor, but Fabian received information of Apollyon’s whereabouts in six days.
In fairness, the world was a big damn place, and Mencheres had had Gregor in an old, reinforced mine tunnel in Madagascar—hell and gone from Marie’s home base of New Orleans. I, however, had narrowed Apollyon’s location down to only one country and a type of business. Still, they had done an amazing job. No one would disparage ghosts while I was around, that was for sure.
Fabian’s features solidified from the random hazy swirls, but his mouth was turned down in a frown.
“I think you should get more people.”
“How many are there?” Bones asked him.
“At least four score,” Fabian replied. “They’re having a rally in about an hour.”
“Is Apollyon still there?” I pressed.
Fabian nodded. “You could capture him afterward, once the others leave.”
Bones exchanged a glance with me. Or Apollyon could leave with the other ghouls. Then we’d need to have the ghosts hunt him for us all over again.
“The bulk of the ghouls—do they look like visitors for the rally, or guards?” Bones asked, tapping his chin.
Fabian looked confused. “How would I tell?”
“You can tell by how many of them are armed,” Vlad said, with pointed emphasis on the last word.
“Ah.” Fabian’s brow smoothed. “A few of them had large weapons with bullets that crisscrossed around their torsos.”
I made a mental note to familiarize Fabian with modern artillery so he’d be able to give better descriptions.
“Machine guns?” I asked, miming holding one and making a series of rapid staccato noises.
Bones’s mouth twitched, but he dipped his head so I wouldn’t see his clear amusement over my “GI Jane does Pictionary” imitation.
“Yes, those,” Fabian said. “Some of the other people could have knives on them, but those were the only weapons I could see.”
Vlad let out a snort. “I didn’t come this far to run now.”
I felt the same way. Still, I had to assume the machine guns were armed with silver bullets and at least some of the ghouls would have silver knives. Most of them might not be armed, but eight to one was still eight to one.
“Mencheres, use your power to keep any humans from getting hurt. One side of the cemetery borders a business district, and I can’t have Tate send troops to block it off because that would tip Apollyon to our presence. So keeping people out of the way is your top priority.”
“As opposed to restraining Apollyon?” he asked, polite disagreement in his tone.
I met his charcoal gaze. “If you rip his head off, that looks very impressive for you, but it won’t do me much good. You guys keep telling me if I don’t smack people down hard enough when they come after me, then more will follow. Well, I’m the one Apollyon used as a scapegoat all this time, so I’m the one who has to take him down.”
Silence met this pronouncement. I braced for arguments, especially from Bones, so I was surprised when he coolly nodded his head.
“Don’t use your power to restrain the other ghouls, either,” Bones stated. “We’ll take them in a match of strength on strength.”
I looked around at the occupants of the van. In addition to Mencheres, Kira, Vlad, Spade, Denise, Ed, and Scratch, we’d picked up a few new additions in recent days. Bones’s sire, Ian, grinned at the prospect. Gorgon, Mencheres’s old friend, just shrugged, and the blond Law Guardian, Veritas, who was as old as Mencheres even though she looked like Barbie doll’s younger sister, only appeared bored by the topic. No one voiced a word of objection.
Eleven vampires and a shapeshifter against whatever Apollyon had at that complex. That might not sound like good odds, but I knew how deadly this bunch was. Also, if we gathered too many vampires together, we ran the risk of Apollyon getting tipped off.
“All right.” I gave everyone a steady, unblinking glance. “Apollyon wants a war? He’s going to get one, but not between our two species. It’ll be between his best and our best.”
Bones met my gaze, dark brown eyes glinting with green.
“We go in an hour,” he stated, the promise of violence caressing each word. “Gives the rest of them time to arrive.”
And all of them being there meant less chance of any ghouls stumbling across the fight and then summoning backup for Apollyon. I smiled at Bones, feeling the mixture of anticipation and purpose that always filled me before a fight.
“I can’t wait to crash the party.”
His answering smile was edged with the same lethal expectancy.
“Neither can I, Kitten.”
The sharp wind made me squint as I stared down at the cemetery Bones flew us over. The majority was only lit up by residual illumination around the perimeter gates, with two exceptions. One was the funeral home. Exterior lights shone on the LASTING PEACE sign out front, emphasizing the somber yet elegant design of the two-story building. The other area that had lights was on the edge of the southern burial plats, bordering against the unplowed acres set aside for future graves. I looked down at the small, illuminated platform, one ghoul standing in between the two portable floodlights, and couldn’t bite back my scoff.
Apollyon didn’t have those lights set up on either side of him so his followers could get a good view of him gesturing emphatically during his rhetoric about how Cain was really a ghoul and vampires originally derived from flesh-eaters instead of the other way around. Ghouls could see in the dark. How arrogant did Apollyon have to be, to insist on being lit up like a rock star during what was supposed to be a secret undead rally? And was that an Armani suit he had on? In my boringly functional, all-black leotard with multiple weapon holsters, I was clearly underdressed for this shindig.
Bones abruptly tilted us downward and all thoughts of clothing left my mind. Fabian was right; a crowd of around sixty gathered in a loose diamond-shaped formation, listening to Apollyon with rapt attention, while about two dozen guards armed with machine guns roamed around the assembly. We’d also seen about four or five guards near the main entrance of the cemetery, but I wasn’t worried about them. Mencheres would handle them, and Denise and Kira would make sure no latecomers showed up.
I gripped my two katana swords as Bones bulleted us toward the thickest cluster of armed guards. Goal number one was to take out the guns before the guns took us out. I had a split second to enjoy the look of shock on the guards’ faces as either Bones’s power level preceded us, or they saw a big dark form hurtling right for them. And then we plowed into them with a tremendous crash.
The impact was like smashing into a group of trees, except these trees shouted and fought back. I hacked away with my two swords before even coming to a stop, knowing Bones had already rolled to the side to stay well clear of my blades. Limbs and heads separated underneath my ferocious slices as I used the shorter swords like extensions of my arms, swinging away at anyone in front of me no matter if they were armed or not. If they were here, then they were on Apollyon’s side, which meant they’d kill me if they could.
More gunfire and shouts let me know that the rest of our welcoming party had landed. As much as I wanted to look around and check on Bones, I didn�
�t, keeping my attention on hacking my way to the ghouls who were now spraying the crowd in an effort to take out the intruders. Flashes of white-hot pain arced into my side, making me roll in defense even as I continued to swing my blades at anyone unlucky enough to be near me. Dammit. I’d been hit.
All the tumbling made my hair come loose from its bun. Dark strands interrupted my vision as I rolled to avoid another barrage of bullets, seeing the grass explode in mini pops where I’d just been. Acting on instinct, I flung my sword, hearing a scream before I jumped up, my side still burning, to see a ghoul fall backward clawing at his face, my sword hilt where his nose used to be.
I ignored the pain and vaulted forward, tackling him before he could raise the gun again. A hard swipe across his neck and he wasn’t moving anymore. Another swipe took out the trigger on the gun. No need leaving it functional so a bystander could pick it up and start shooting away.
Pain exploded in my neck in the next instant, blood filling my mouth. I grabbed the dead ghoul, using his body as a shield, coughing even though I didn’t breathe. That searing matched the pain in my side, but it faded quicker, and the red on my clothes let me know what happened. I’d been shot in the throat.
Somehow, that pissed me off more than the bullets still burning their way deeper into my side. I kept ahold of the corpse, balancing his body in front of me as I charged at the ghoul who continued to fire at me. Those bullets struck his fallen comrade instead, and I had time to let out a savage snarl before I threw the body on him, knocking him over. I followed immediately with my sword, slicing through the arm he raised in defense and then his neck, putting all my pain and anger behind the blow. His head rolled a foot away from his body.
I didn’t stop to celebrate but swung around. Just in time, too. A duo of ghouls bored down on me, one shooting, one holding out a knife. I had time to fling myself upward, making the bullets intended for me hit empty air instead, before I landed behind them. My sword ripped through both their necks with the momentum from my jump, blood splattering me as they fell, headless, to the ground.
This Side of the Grave Page 26
