Haunted

by Kelley Armstrong

  I pulled myself up. "But, blood or training aside, whatever the experiment, it obviously worked. You understand and fit into human culture far better than those other angels could, so why the ascendeds?"

  "Not all the angels in the last wave are like me. Most aren't. They...assimilated."

  "Succumbed to the pressure to fit in. But you didn't."

  "It's more like 'couldn't.' It isn't in my nature. And I'm certainly not the only one. There are a few like me."

  "Just not enough to fight this new 'only ascended angels in the field' rule."

  A slow nod, gaze shuttering, but not before I saw the sadness there.

  "But if I ascend," I said. "If I do this quest, and they offer me angel-hood, I'd need someone to teach me the ropes, and Zak...Zaf--"

  "Zadkiel."

  "Isn't around, so that would be you."

  He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, that's what I'm hoping. Meaning you're not the only one who needs to prove something on this quest. Unfortunately, you seem to be making your case a lot better than I am."

  "Hey, you got the amulet, right?"

  "I'd rather have the Nix. Preferably decorating my sword."

  I laughed. "We'll get her for you, don't you worry. Then we'll finally find out whether all this supposition has been for naught. My luck, I'll finally decide I want to be an angel, and find out the offer isn't even on the table, that it never was."

  A look passed through his eyes.

  "You already know, don't you?" I said.

  He stood, crossed the room, grabbed an apple off the counter. "We should work on our next move."

  "No, you should work on your diversionary tactics. That one's as obvious as trying to send me to check on Lizzie before Aratron arrived." I got to my feet. "You've talked to the Fates, haven't you? You sneaky...When did you--what did they say?"

  He lobbed the apple from one palm to the other. "It's not my place to discuss this, Eve."

  I grabbed the apple from him. "Well, obviously, if you're still worried about proving you could mentor me, the answer was yes. They want me to be an angel."

  I took a bite and chewed slowly, turning the thought over in my mind. Like a magnet, it both repelled and attracted, depending on which way I turned it. But, still, no matter how much it might change my life, it would take care of my problem with Savannah...

  I took another chomp of the apple and walked back to the divan.

  "Why me?" I said.

  When Trsiel didn't respond, I sighed and glanced over my shoulder at him. "Okay, hypothetically, if the Fates have a space to fill, why pick me? There must be dozens of supernaturals more worthy of the honor."

  "Becoming an angel isn't a reward for goodness," he said, taking the chair next to the divan again. "It's a job, and like any job, it has requirements."

  "Such as?"

  "Each realm has its own team of ascendeds, pulled from that realm, who tend to matters involving the ghosts in that realm and the living who will eventually come to that realm. The Fates, having guardianship of the smaller supernatural realms, are permitted fewer ascendeds, and have a smaller pool to choose from. So they must choose more carefully and have developed a rather unique, and creative, system for picking angels."

  "They're inventive, like Aratron said."

  Trsiel nodded. "Every ascended on the Fates' team has been chosen for what new skills or personality traits he or she can add to it. Janah, for example, was the first, and she was a priestess, a very devout woman eager to serve on the side of righteousness. Katsuo--who investigated Glamis--was a samurai, making him a powerful warrior who will obey without question. Marius is a warrior of another kind, a gladiator who led an uprising against the Romans. Unlike Katsuo, Marius has never met an authority figure he didn't challenge, but give him a case of injustice to solve, and no one fights harder."

  "Different angels, different strengths. Different weapons for different battles."

  "But when it came to the Nix, the Fates realized something was missing from their weapon case."

  "Someone who could understand a creature like the Nix."

  "I can't speak for the Fates, but I suspect it's that, plus a combination of other factors, that made them--or would make them--see you as a good candidate." He snuck a look my way. "You do want it, don't you? At first, I wasn't sure, but then you seemed to warm to the idea."

  "I did," I said, turning the half-eaten apple over in my hands. "But now...I'm not sure. There's a lot to think about."

  He was quiet for a moment, then looked at me. "It's Kristof, isn't it?"

  "He..." I leaned back against the divan cushions and fixed my gaze on the bookshelf. "A few days ago he said I need a purpose in my life, and he's right. This hunt--this quest--it's made me feel..." A small smile. "I'd say 'alive,' if that didn't sound so silly."

  "It doesn't."

  "In a way, 'alive' really does make sense. Since I died, I've been...well, 'dead,' hovering in limbo, obsessing about my daughter, surfacing now and then to see Kristof, but he's been the only thing that brings me out of it. I need more than that, and he knows it. I need a job." I laughed. "Isn't that rich? Spent my life proud of the fact that I never held a proper job, never paid a dime in income taxes, and now that I'm dead, that's exactly what I want."

  Trsiel smiled. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but angels don't pay taxes. Don't collect a salary, either."

  "You know what I mean."

  "You want a purpose, and you think this might be it. Your calling."

  I made a gagging noise.

  He grinned. "Okay, career, not calling. But there's still the problem with Kristof. Obviously he means a lot to you..."

  "And in taking his advice and taking this 'job,' I might screw things up completely. Become an angel, and I'll finally realize my dream of being able to protect Savannah. Instead of finding a new purpose in my life, I might be opening the door to furthering that obsession. So what could be the best thing for me might end up being the worst. If that happens, Kris is gone. Guy's got the tenacity of a bulldog, but even a bulldog eventually realizes it's latched onto something it'll never pull free."

  Trsiel said nothing. When I glanced over, he was just staring at me.

  "You don't know, do you?" he said softly.

  "Don't know what?"

  "When you ascend...Eve, you can't..." He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I thought you knew."

  "Knew what?"

  "When you ascend, you have to break all ties with the ghost world."

  The room seemed to darken and tilt.

  "You mean, I couldn't live there, right?" I said slowly. "I'd have to move up here or something, but I could still visit the ghost world--"

  "I mean you'd have to leave. Forever."

  I don't know what I said next. I felt my lips moving, heard something like words coming from them, vaguely saw Trsiel nod and say something in return, then felt myself recite a transportation code. The room darkened, then disappeared.

  37

  I STOOD IN KRISTOF'S HOUSEBOAT, IN FRONT OF THE tiny writing desk beside the bunk. Over the desk was a shelf crammed with photos. Memory shots, we called them in the ghost world. We didn't have cameras or access to old pictures, but we didn't need them. If we could pluck an image from memory, we could make a photograph of it, as I'd done with Amanda Sullivan's picture.

  On Kristof's shelf, he had photos of what was important to him. His parents, brothers, nephews, and, of course, his sons. Plus two shots of Savannah, one as she'd been when he met her, and one as she was now. All pictures of family. Then there was a scattering of shots near the middle, of the two of us, memory shots of things we'd done together fifteen years ago, then after our deaths. Off to the side were two more pictures of me, one goofy face-pulling pose, and one of me laughing, curled up in a chair at my house. Then there was the picture he'd had to ask me for: something he'd never had the chance to see, Savannah and me together.

  Two days ago, I'd accused him of making me choose between him and our d
aughter. Now I stared at those pictures, and I realized I'd almost made that choice, however unwillingly. I'd like to say that I would never have become an angel without knowing all the facts, but that would be like saying I'd never have taken Savannah from Kristof without first asking whether he cared. Or like saying I'd never have tried to escape that compound without first making sure my plan was foolproof. Act now, ask questions later, and pay the price forever--that was my path through life. Had Trsiel not told me the cost of angel-hood, I might very well have found myself in an afterlife where I'd chosen Savannah over Kristof--chosen the illusion of a relationship with Savannah over the reality of one with Kristof.

  I tore myself away from the photos and headed onto the dock, brain still spinning. When I looked up, I saw Kristof striding down the hill, gaze down, thoughts clearly elsewhere. Then he looked up. As he saw me, his frown evaporated in a wide smile, pace picking up to a jog, a shout of greeting cutting through the soft thump of the waves against the hull.

  As I walked out to meet him, Kris's grin faltered. He said nothing, just walked faster. I stopped at the edge of the wooden dock. My mouth opened and I wanted to tell him I'd found the amulet, regale him with the story of how I'd swiped it from under the Nix's nose and given her a good ass-kicking in the process. But all I could think about was how close I'd come to throwing away the only real thing I had in this afterlife.

  I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. Why does skin still feel warm here, long after the blood that gives it heat is gone? Maybe it's the memory of warmth that we feel, or maybe it's something deeper than biology.

  Kristof put his hand over mine, and pressed it against his cheek. Then he pulled my hand over to his mouth and kissed my palm, the touch so light it sent a shiver through me. I looked around, but there was no one here to see us. There was never anyone but the occasional seagull or tern winging past overhead.

  I pulled my hand from Kristof's grasp and undid the first button on his shirt. Closing my eyes, I slid my hands to his chest, and traced my fingers over his collarbone. No need to look; my fingers knew the way, as they did over every part of him, neural pathways etched into my brain, tread and retread and committed to memory years before, as if I'd known from the start that someday I'd need to rely on my memories to see him.

  "I used to dream about you," I said, undoing the rest of the shirt as I trailed my fingers down his chest. "Long after I left. Right up to the end. Twelve years gone, and I'd still wake up in the night, thinking you'd just left the room, certain I could smell you there. Even the mattress felt warm."

  I undid his pants and pushed them down over his hips. "Some nights it was just that, dreaming you were sleeping there beside me. Other nights..." I shivered and slipped one hand into his shorts, while the other tugged them off. "Other nights I'd wake up aching for you, sweating, so wet I barely needed to touch myself to come. I could never remember what I'd been dreaming, but I knew it was about you, even when I told myself it wasn't."

  I slid my hands down his hips, then ran my fingertips down the inside of his thighs. "I used to fantasize about you. I tried not to. I'd start imagining someone else, anyone else, but it always turned into you. I'd close my eyes and remember what you smelled like, what you tasted like. Sometimes it wasn't enough, and I'd call your office and listen to your voice on the machine. It never sounded like you--not the real you--but if I concentrated just right, and tuned out the words, I could hear your voice, and that always worked."

  "I used to see you," he said, tugging my shirt out of my jeans. "Everywhere. The street, the office, at home, even sitting beside me in the car. Out of the corner of my eye I'd see something and, for a second, I'd forget you were gone and I..."

  He inhaled sharply and buried his head against my shoulder. After a moment, he kissed the side of my neck, and started pushing down my jeans.

  "Sometimes it was a smell," he murmured. "The smell of a food we'd eaten or a place we'd been. Other times it was a laugh. I'd swear I heard your laugh, and I could see you there, in bed, grinning at me, head turned just so, hair falling over your breasts." Another sharp inhale, and he brushed his fingers along my hair, tickling it over my breast. "That's what did it for me. Hearing that laugh. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times. But, once in a while, that wasn't enough."

  He traced his fingers down my sides, and across my stomach, inching lower. "I found one of your apartments once. I stayed away until you were gone. After you moved out, I went there, just to..." He shrugged, eyes lowered. "Just to look. To be there. I found a pillowcase you'd left, fell behind the bed. I could still smell you on it. That's what I used, when remembering wasn't enough."

  I put my arms around his neck. "I want you back, Kris. For now and forever."

  He lowered me to the dock.

  Afterward, we stretched out, enjoying the faint heat of the sun and the slap of the surf. Kristof's fingers slid up my thigh, then stopped. He frowned and looked down at my leg. His frown deepened. I followed his gaze to a paper-thin raised welt encircling my thigh where Trsiel's sword had passed through.

  I told him what had happened.

  Kristof shook his head. "That man has serious sword-control problems."

  I sputtered a laugh. "You think?"

  "If he's not slow getting it out, he's sticking it in where it doesn't belong."

  As my laugh died, I pressed my face against his shoulder. After a moment, Kristof stroked the back of my head. "What else happened?"

  Until now, I'd said nothing about Trsiel's hints that my quest was really a stepping stone to angel-hood. When I told Kristof that, I expected him to burst out laughing. I guess I should have known better. Instead, he listened, then gave a slow nod.

  "That makes sense," he said.

  "It does?" I smiled. "I swear, Kris, you're the only person in the universe who could hear that I'm a candidate for angel-hood and say, 'That makes sense.'"

  "But it does. You may not be the most obvious choice, but if they haven't caught this Nix in over a hundred years, I'd say the obvious choices aren't working out so well." He paused, thoughtful. "I know this may not be the path you had in mind for your afterlife, but you may want to give the offer some serious thought. You've been...well, you've been better than I've seen you in a long time, happier, more...there. First, of course, you'd have to have a very long talk with the Fates, find out exactly what this deal would entail."

  "I--I've done that, Kris."

  His brows arched.

  I managed a twist of a smile. "Surprised at my foresight? Don't be. Trsiel told me the catch. And good thing he did, because..." My throat went tight. "Because I came very close to making a very big mistake. I'm not going to be an angel, Kris. The price is too high."

  "Savannah," he murmured. "You couldn't watch her anymore."

  "No, that's not it. If anything, Savannah was the biggest plus to this whole offer." I caught his gaze. "Becoming an angel would mean I could protect her, that I could have stopped Lily, just like Trsiel did. And, ever since Trsiel told me I might be a candidate, that's all I've been able to think about, how it would help me with Savannah. But then, after you talked to me in Alaska, I wasn't so sure that was the right path anymore. Then, today, I found out something that clinched it. Become an angel, and they send me off to angel-land. A one-way, one-passenger ticket."

  His brow crinkled, then a blink of surprise, quickly stifled. "You'd have to leave the ghost world, you mean, and you like it here--"

  I cut him off with a fierce kiss. "You know what I mean, so stop playing dumb. I don't care about the damned ghost world. It's you I won't leave."

  A slow smile, then he leaned over and kissed me back. A few minutes of that--too few minutes for my taste--and he pulled away.

  "So no halo and wings for Eve." He grinned. "I have to admit, that particular outfit wasn't one I've ever imagined you in."

  "One of very few, I'm sure." I shifted closer to him, belly to belly, feeling a fresh wave of heat. "I will find a job. That much I've real
ized. I need to do something in this life. Maybe we can spend some time thinking about it. I can try on different uniforms, see if any catch your fancy..."

  He laughed and slid his hand around to my rear, pulling me against him. "I'm sure most will catch my fancy, at least for a night or two. Perhaps we can start with the nurse..." He closed his eyes, lips moving in a soft oath.

  "Kris?"

  "Sorry, just the practical part of my brain, reminding me that I'm distracting you from something more important than nurse fantasies." His gaze slid down my body. "I could shut it off, if you like..."

  I laughed as I sat up. "You're right, I do have work to do, and we'll have all of eternity to play dress-up when I'm done. Now give me a hand brainstorming my next move. As partners go, Trsiel's a good guy, but when it comes to plotting, our brains operate on completely different wavelengths."

  "Won't let you kill anyone, will he?"

  "Won't even consider it. No killing, no stealing, no lying. I think I've caught him swearing once or twice, but I can't be sure."

  "I'm taller, too."

  I sputtered a laugh. "You're what?"

  "Taller." He snuck a grin at me. "He's better-looking, thinner, still has all his hair...but I'm taller. By at least an inch."

  "Not only do you support me in my moral bankruptcy, but you're taller? What more could any woman want?"

  "So she didn't get the amulet," Kris said after I'd recapped my last Nix encounter.

  "Right, but she said she had another way. A less satisfactory way."

  "Spiritual possession," he said. "And for that she'd need not just any necromancer. What did you say back at the castle? Few necros who are powerful enough to perform it--"

  "Would be stupid enough to perform it."

  "A powerful necro...who's somewhat lacking in mental agility." His brows arched. "Sound like anyone you've worked with recently?"

  "Jaime's not stupid. She doesn't come off as the brightest bulb, but, hey, I know all about the benefits of acting dumber than you are. In her case, there are some emotional issues there, too. Acting like a ditzy celebrity might be her way of dealing with things."

  "True, but, as you say, she doesn't come off as the brightest bulb. What's important is what she appears to be. The Nix did make some cryptic comment about her secondary choice having some effect on you, that it'd be 'temporarily' very satisfying, probably meaning something that would hurt you. If she knows that you know Jaime--"