“Where do you think you be goin’?” Bethany said, motioning for her to stop moving.
Starling stopped and put her hands behind her back. Her fingers brushed against something sharp. “I’m not going anywhere. I just wanted to give you guys your space.”
“You’re a little brat. You don’t expect me think you ain’t up to something, do you? Just a second ago you were throwin’ a right fit about me touchin’ your man and now you be actin’ all quiet.”
Starling took hold of the long, slightly sharp object. It felt metallic and cold, but she didn’t risk looking behind her to see exactly what she’d found.
“What you got there in your hand?” Bethany took a step toward her.
Without thinking, Starling reacted, rushing at the Voodoo Queen with the mysterious object. She plunged the object into the space just above the woman’s clavicle. Letting go, she saw the end of a silver candlestick.
“You bitch. What have you done!” Bethany screamed with anger and pain. “Edward, kill her. Kill the little bitch!”
Starling ran to the door and fumbled with the lock as Edward’s fingers twisted around her throat. She pushed his right hand away. “No!” she screamed. Grabbing the nearest object, a bottle of sand, she twisted and threw it in his face. The bottle smashed against his nose, sending sand into his eyes.
She twisted the lock open while Edward cried out with pain. Starling nearly fell through the doorway and rushed down the street to where the cab was waiting.
“Go!” she yelled.
The cabby gave her a shocked look but hit the gas, screeching the tires as they escaped away in the night.
Chapter Twelve
Not only had she let herself down by allowing herself to be tricked by a terrible imposter, but she had also left Jasper behind and worse—hurt. She had wanted so badly to protect him from the terrible spirit and his mistress, but now there was no way she could go back. She had no one she could call on to help her—except Jamie. But if she called the witch, she would put her in danger, too.
Starling couldn’t risk hurting anyone else. Her best bet was finding an answer to help Jasper on her own—which meant going back to the cemetery and finding the books. The books held the answers to control and manage spirits, which meant they may well hold the answer on how to remove Edward’s spirit from Jasper’s body. Jamie had said the books weren’t her only answer, but maybe they could be the first answer in a long line of questions.
“Can you please take me back to the Bonaventure Cemetery?” she asked the driver. She glanced up at the meter. Thankfully, she still had a paid room, or she would have been resigned to living on the streets until she got Jasper back.
“You got it.” The man turned toward the cemetery, driving slowly through the darkened streets. Everything was dark until they drove down Bay Street. The lights of the city were ablaze, making the mass of bar-goers glow red and green, gold and purple. Was that what most people her age were doing? Living life to the fullest, unencumbered by the death of their mother and loss of their only friend?
For a moment, jealousy splashed through her, but it was quickly replaced with gut-wrenching fear.
She had acted impulsively, but no matter how much she replayed the scene in her head, she couldn’t think of another way to have gotten out of The Goat’s Head alive and with Jasper at her side. And if she didn’t make it, neither would Jasper.
The cab came to a stop in front of the sign for the cemetery. “You want me to wait here again?”
“Please.” Hopefully she would be coming back. She handed the cabby most of the money that was left in her purse.
The damp night air hung on her like a wet shower curtain, chilling her to the core. She of all people shouldn’t be afraid of entering a graveyard at night, but she couldn’t stop the anxiety that built up inside her as she made her way past row after row of grave markers.
What are you doing back? Is your friend okay? Gracie’s sweet little voice sounded from the darkness.
“Gracie? Are you here?”
A small apparition appeared standing beside a headstone with a schnauzer inscribed in its surface. Gracie’s curly hair fell loosely over her shoulders as it must have been when she’d crossed over. Starling gasped. She’d only seen a spirit in solid, or rather smoky, form the day her mother had been killed—the day that she had seen Asclepius for the first time and when he had begun his maddening quest for her to find the books.
“Do you know why I can see you?” she asked, trying to sound calm about addressing a little girl who looked exactly like her stone memorial.
“I don’t know,” Gracie said, her voice suddenly more than a ghostly whisper. It sounded as if the girl truly stood in front of her. “Do you think your gift is growing stronger?”
Stronger … was that it? Or rather, was it a stress induced gift of sight? Only time would tell.
“Gracie, I need to find the books. They have to be back in the mausoleum where Jasper was possessed. Would you please show me the quickest way to get there?”
Gracie nodded. She moved away from the headstone and a small apparition of a dog came out of the ground and followed as she moved quickly through the labyrinth of markers. The schnauzer twisted around the girl’s feet, happily prancing as it gazed lovingly up at Gracie. Starling had to hold her purse steady as she jogged to keep up with the duo.
The faster the better—Bethany probably had more than her fair share of henchman who could be ready to kidnap Starling, or worse, at a moment’s notice.
She couldn’t be taken by Bethany or Edward again. They were even more dangerous than the Catharterians. As she followed Gracie under a Spanish moss laden oak, the archangel came into view. Her hands were up, once again ready to receive.
Gracie and the dog stopped beside the statue, practically standing on the name, Avi Mortem. A third apparition took form beside them.
This time you must do what you know is right or another person you love will be lost. As the apparition became clearer, Asclepius’s voice strengthened, moving from a spectral whisper to the realm of reality, just as Gracie’s had. “It’s so nice to be with you,” he said with a slight bow of his head. His beard was longer than the last time she’d seen him, or maybe it was just her memory playing tricks on her. Yet, the fine lines around his eyes and his godlike face remained the same.
“Will you go in with me? I could use your help in finding the books. I don’t have a clue where to start looking, and Bethany’s men are coming any minute.”
“Starling, Gracie and I can’t go into that terrible place. If the Catharterians catch us, they will be able to entrap our souls just as they did with Edward.” Asclepius stepped closer and rested his milky hand on her shoulder, his icy touch making her shiver. “You have to go alone, but I’ll be here ready to protect you.”
“I don’t want Gracie to get hurt.”
Asclepius smiled, giving him a fatherly look. “Don’t worry about little Gracie. I’ll help her. I think you’d be surprised; she is far tougher than she looks.” He glanced over at the cherubic-faced girl. “Just because she was young when she passed doesn’t mean that she hasn’t learned a few tricks of the ghostly trade.”
“Gracie, if I get the books, I’ll help you cross to the other side.” Starling tried to say it with a reassuring smile, but it was hard to reassure the girl when so many things could go wrong. Gracie gave her a small nod as she patted the dog’s head.
“Run along,” Asclepius continued, “we’ll be here waiting.”
A tight knot formed in her stomach. “And if something happens to me, promise me that you will save Jasper. Okay?” She tried to tell herself that she was overreacting, but the souls’ sudden appearance made her realize exactly how much danger surrounded her.
“You will save him yourself. You must.” Asclepius pointed at the archangel’s hand. “Now push the button and hurry. They are coming.”
Starling slipped her fingers over the angel’s palm, feeling around the night-chil
led stone. She pressed the button and repeated the words she had said only hours before. “Avi Mortem, find comfort in the arms of the wicked and solace where no other dares. Mortem. Genus. Honor.”
The angel’s wings parted.
The scent of wet earth swirled up from the darkness as she descended into the cavernous maw of the mausoleum. If she never spent another moment in a graveyard, it would be a moment too soon. Everything about this place reminded her of her mother and the impermanence of everything in her life—even demigods like she and her mother. Even with their near immortality, death lingered over them like a dark cloud, threatening not only them, but the men that they loved—all thanks to Zeus and his curse.
Her footsteps echoed around her. At least she would be able to hear someone coming—that was, if they were alive.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, she turned on her cell phone light and pointed it around the rectangular room. A thin layer of dust covered the seats of two chairs by the door, but the dust in a wash basin had been disturbed; fingerprints smudged the concrete surface, but it was hard to tell if the fingerprints were Jasper’s or someone else’s—one of the “bad ones.”
The door to the back room opened with a shrill squeak. If there was anyone down here, the sound would have surely warned them of her presence. But she was met with only the thundering of her own heartbeat and the loudness of her breath.
There had been many times she’d been afraid in her life: when her mother had died, when she found out she was a nymph, and when she learned she would have to live with Chance and Harper. It surprised her that now, when so much depended on a high-stake game of hide-and-go-seek that she was no longer troubled; instead, she was determined.
Opening the door wide, she made her way into the next room. The light of her phone was swallowed by the heavy darkness, and instead of fighting it, she turned to her left. The dust crumbled under her fingertips as she felt her way along the wall. She moved ten steps before she came to the end.
You have no business being here. A woman’s voice sounded from the abyss.
Starling pressed her body against the wall. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out the only weapon-like thing she possessed—a ballpoint pen.
What are you going to do with that—color me to death? The woman’s laugh bounced off the walls like a rubber ball coming to rest at Starling’s feet.
“Who are you?” She shined her phone’s light out into the room, but she could see no one. If the woman was alone, Starling would have a chance, but she would be hard pressed to defend herself against any more.
I’m guessing you are Starling. I’ve been hearing about you.
Starling gripped the pen tighter in her hand as she tried to turn her body in the direction of the voice. “Are you a Catharterian?”
Far from it. I’m one of their captured souls.
“You’re a ghost?” Did that mean that she was going to be invaded and possessed as Jasper had been? “Step into the light.”
A woman with blonde bouffant hair stepped into the faint light of Starling’s phone. She wore a pink poodle skirt and bobby socks straight out of the 1950s. The only thing that made it clear the woman wasn’t alive were the muted hues of her clothes and the near transparency of her skin.
The woman curtsied. “Molly B. at your service.”
Starling wasn’t sure whether to run or to face the ghost. From the curtsy, she had to believe that the woman wasn’t here to hurt her. Heck, if she’d wanted to, she could have already attacked when Starling was making her way into the room. But if Devon and Edward had taught her anything, it was not to trust.
“How do you know who I am?” Starling asked.
“My masters, the vultures, have been having meetings about you. The last one was just a few weeks ago, in this very room.”
The darkened room seemed like the last place Starling would ever want to have a meeting, but somehow it seemed to fit the scavengers of death.
Molly drifted toward her, stopping just a few feet in front of her, and reaching out, she flicked on a light switch. The sudden brightness made Starling shield her eyes, allowing them a moment to adjust. In the center of the massive room was a large, solid rectangle of onyx with a vulture carved into its ink-black surface and surrounded by chairs. If it hadn’t been her enemy’s, it would have been easy to call it beautiful, but as it stood, the long meeting table only made bile rise in her throat.
“Are you going to tell them I’m here?”
Molly drifted toward the table, her back to Starling and her two-toned shoes hovering just above the cement floor. “Do you like being a nymph?” Molly asked, avoiding Starling’s question.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t been a nymph for very long.”
“You are the youngest of your kind, yes?”
She nodded, unsure of where the woman was leading with her questions.
“Do you think you will be able to have children?” the spirit asked, trailing her fingers down the black table.
“I dunno. I haven’t really given that much thought.”
“But you want children someday?”
“Yeah, maybe after I graduate from college.”
Molly nodded appreciatively. “I wanted kids, too. Before I died.”
Starling wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“When I was alive, that was what was expected of women like me. Get done with school, marry off, have a few kids. It was the bee’s knees.”
Starling stood in silence, just watching as the woman made her way to the head of the table.
“You know that’s what the vultures are after, don’t you?” Molly stopped at the farthest end. “They want to be able to have children.”
“I know. They told me all about it when they tried to kill my friend, Harper.”
Molly studied her for a moment. “Why don’t you want them to be able to have more of their kind?”
Starling struggled to find the right answer. Was Molly on their side? Or was this woman measuring her response for another reason? The ghost didn’t seem like a threat, but Gracie had warned her that those who roamed here were the “bad ones.”
Molly had yet to earn her trust.
“The vultures are responsible for my mother’s death, and they tried to kill my friend. Do you think I should just give them what they need so they always kill to get what they want?”
“But once they get what they need, they won’t have to kill. They won’t need spirits like me anymore. Maybe they will let me take the next step in the afterlife. They will go back to being peaceful.”
“Scavengers of death are never peaceful. They may go back to leaving us alone, but what happens to the nymphs when they decide they need something again? We can’t be bullied by their group.” Starling gripped her pen tighter, letting it strengthen her resolve to say what needed to be said. “These creatures are the worst kind of bullies, and the only way to stop a bully is to put your foot down. They’re lucky I’m not the kind to go after payback—that I’m satisfied that my mother’s killer has found justice. I have every right to take down their entire group for what they’ve done to me and my kind.”
“You know they won’t stop until they get what they need,” Molly said, flattening her skirt. “They’re desperate. And desperation drives people to extreme lengths. I mean, just look at you. Here you are, coming back to the one place you should be running away from. Either you have a death wish or you are desperate. The only question is, which is it?”
“Is that some kind of threat?” Starling glanced around the room to see if there was another way to escape besides the door she’d entered through, but found none.
Molly laughed. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know why you came back. If anything, I look up to you. I saw what happened to your friend. It had to take a whole lot of gumption to come down here after that.”
Gumption. That was one thing she had, but gumption didn’t get her the books. It always seemed to dig her deeper into trou
ble.
“But why did you do it when the Catharterians could be here any second?” Molly continued.
“Because I need answers. And I think that there’s a set of books down here that could carry exactly that.”
“You talkin’ about the Libros?”
Starling dropped her pen into her purse. “You know them? Where are they?”
“Whoa. Don’t get excited. I only know about those books because they used the enchantments from it to trap me down here a few months back.”
“They used it to trap you? What else can they do with the books?”
“Anything they want. Even erase a soul.” Molly pulled out the chair and sat down, carefully crossing her ankles. “And that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Do you think they are going to erase my soul? Will they erase yours? Will they erase Jasper’s?”
Molly answered with a slow nod. “If they find Edward, they will get Jasper, and then they will come after me. Any time anything goes wrong, they always threaten us. And this thing with Edward, this running off, may push them over the edge. I just have to hope that they will show mercy.”
“Look, Molly. I would love to help you—I would give anything to stop you from being hurt—but I can’t do anything without the books. If they used spells from them, maybe I can, too. If you want me to help you, you need to tell me anything you know about them.”
“The books are near. I know that, but I couldn’t tell you where. I’m not usually allowed in this room; this is Edward’s place. The spells confined us to these two rooms, but I normally stayed in the antechamber.”
“If the books are down here, there’s not that many places they could hide. There are only two rooms. We can chisel the entire thing apart to get those books.”
“Not everything is as it looks,” Molly said, pushing away the chairs that surrounded the table. She knocked on the surface of the onyx table. “I’ve seen this a few times, but I have no idea how it works.”
“What are you doing?”
Molly bent down, inspecting the side of the table. “There’s a button somewhere around here. I’ve seen them push it.”
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