“Geez, Finch, you only had one bottle.” Nash grinned, but sympathy shone in his eyes. Did he understand? Had he figured out my feelings for Ryann? I tried my best to keep it discreet, but people had a habit of calling me on it regardless.
A house ghost dressed as a Civil War-era nurse drifted through a wall and floated up behind Ryann, who’d just bent to set the bandages on the side table. Ryann stood and turned to leave Luke and Melody to it. A shriek escaped her throat as she came face-to-face with Nursie, who put her hands on her hips.
“Are you medically trained?” the nurse asked. “If you aren’t, you shouldn’t meddle.”
Ryann turned white as a sheet. “I-I-I… you’re a… ghost!”
“Evidently, you have no training whatsoever. I would have thought it blatantly obvious, from a biological perspective, that I am a ghost.” Nursie rolled her eyes. “We prefer ‘spirit’ or ‘specter,’ but you are new here, so you may be forgiven. Now, stand aside and let the professionals attend Mr. Prescott before you cause a hemorrhage.”
“It’s all right, Ryann.” Melody took her hand. “You get used to it.”
Ryann stared in abject horror. “I don’t think I will.”
“Honestly, you breathers are so terrified of death,” Nursie tutted. “Well, take a good look, sweetheart, because this is where you’re headed. And if you insist on helping Mr. Prescott, warm water and laudanum would be greatly appreciated.”
“We don’t give people laudanum anymore, Diana,” Melody said softly.
Diana sighed. “Whatever you have, then. You are magical beings—you must have something in your wizard pantries.”
“We’ve got everything we need here, Diana. But if we need your help, we’ll call you.” Melody defused the situation skillfully. With only a hint of huffiness, Diana floated across the kitchen and disappeared into the wall.
“Maybe I’ve been in the woods too long, but I don’t find these spooks weird at all,” Nash said, though Huntress didn’t share his ambivalence. Every time a spirit drifted in and out, she followed them with her eyes, hackles raised.
I frowned. “You don’t?”
“It’s comforting. With this curse on me, my clock is ticking down faster than it would otherwise. I guess it’s nice to know there’s something after, you know?” He stroked Huntress’s ears as she let out a soft whine.
“There’s a lot more after this life,” I replied. “Turns out, heaven exists. Or something like it. An… old friend brought my dad back for a while. Plucked him right out of the afterlife back to Earth.”
Nash’s expression turned cold. “An old friend? Surely not Davin.”
“No, a man named Alton Waterhouse.” That was partially true, at least. “He was an incredible Necromancer, but he’s dead now.”
“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” Nash relaxed. “Being a Necromancer, did he fear death?”
I tapped my bottle with my fingernails. “You know, I don’t know. I was out of it at the time, but I don’t think he wanted to go, if that’s what you mean. Given the choice, he’d have chosen to live.”
“And that’s what you think I should do?”
“I do, as it turns out,” I replied. “Not just because I need your blood to help my friend. I think every human wants to survive. It’s our base instinct. I think you deserve to live the life you were meant to have, instead of trading it for partial safety. That’s not a life at all—that’s waiting in limbo until the timer runs out.”
“You know something, Finch? You talk a good talk, and I think your heart is in the right place, but I get this feeling that trouble likes to follow you around.” Nash leaned forward in his seat. “Davin wouldn’t have found me if it weren’t for you. You and your friends brought him to my door. And that sticks in my throat real bad, pal.”
I sighed. “Hey, I’m not disagreeing with you on the Davin thing, and I can’t even disagree with you on the trouble thing. But he would’ve come for you sooner or later. You clearly know him, so you know that he’s a resourceful son of a gun. If he wanted you, he’d have ransacked the globe to find you, pulling every string he had. You know that’s true.”
Huntress nosed his hand, her ears pricked as she listened.
“I could’ve outrun him,” Nash said stubbornly.
“Yeah, maybe. But how long are you willing to keep running? Your legs must be pretty tired by now.” I gave a hint of a smile. “If he’s who you’re running from, who you put this curse on yourself for, then isn’t it time you stop and face the music? If you don’t, you’ll keep playing musical chairs until he finally gets what he wants. You owe it to yourself, and Huntress, to try something different.”
“I’ve tried it all, Finch.” Nash hung his head. Huntress sat back on her hindquarters.
“Come on, man. At full power, with this curse gone, you’ve got the best shot at ending Davin that you’ve ever had.” I pulled out all my persuasive stops.
Ryann made me jump by resting her hands on my shoulders. I hadn’t seen her approach. I expected her to remove her hands when she spoke, but she didn’t. She left them there, searing my skin. “And do you want to know why you’ve got the best shot you’ve ever had?”
Nash mustered a wry laugh. “Sure. Why?”
“Because you’ve got our help, and we all hate Davin as much as you. Plus, you’ve got Finch on your side. A guy who’ll do anything to help someone in need, no matter the stakes. Have you ever had that before?” she replied.
“No… I guess not.” Nash took a long sip of his drink. “I’ve always tried to do it alone.”
“Then you and Finch have more in common than I thought.” Ryann gave my shoulders a squeeze, nearly making my heart explode out of its bone cage. “But when it comes to righting wrongs, he won’t stop until he makes it happen. I’ve seen him in action. I’ve seen his dedication to his missions. You scratch his back, he’ll scratch yours. And, together, we might finally get that British weasel to shuffle off his mortal coil for good.”
I made myself look at her. Be cool, Finch. “Since when do you paraphrase Shakespeare?” Or not…
“I dabble,” she replied, smiling.
Nash looked down at Huntress, and their eyes glittered with strange white shards. It appeared they were having a little tête-á-tête. I had no idea what they were saying—maybe deciding which meaty treats they preferred, or whether they would rather chase a ball over a frisbee. All I could do was sit and try not to die of awkwardness while Ryann touched me.
Nash broke the silence. “I said you talked a good talk, Finch, but Ryann talks a better one. A character reference does a lot.”
“Does that mean—?” I hardly dared to say it.
“That I’ll let you take this curse off me and use my blood to help your friend? Yeah, it does.” He lifted his bottle. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I lifted mine. “I won’t. I swear.”
“Then we’ve got a deal.” He clinked his drink against mine. “Consider this me scratching your back, as long as you promise to scratch mine.”
“Deal.” My gut churned, knowing I had pulled him into this on a lie. But I had no choice. And I’d meant what I said about assisting with his Davin problem, which alleviated a tiny smidgen of the guilt. I wanted that slippery hobgoblin dead as much as anyone, and if I could help a fellow misfit out and set him free, all the better.
“So, when do we start?” Nash shifted in his chair. “Where’s your buddy?”
I took out my phone. “Glad you reminded me.” I dialed Raffe’s number and waited. He hadn’t been answering, but I hoped that had more to do with Canadian phone service than Raffe going AWOL. He picked up on the third ring.
“Finch?”
“Raffe! Thank Chaos!”
“I’ve been trying to call you. Where’ve you been?” He sounded a little miffed.
“Sorry about that. I had to take a little trip up north, and apparently Canada doesn’t have 4G yet.” I flashed a comical eyeroll at Nash.
“Canada? Why were you in Canada?” Raffe replied.
“I found what we were looking for, and we’re ready to take the next step.” I kept it vague, but not so vague that Raffe would think I’d lost my marbles. “The key to unlocking our problem has agreed to help us. He’s waiting as we speak, so where are you?”
Raffe paused. “You found the key?”
“I did indeed.” Man, was I glad I hadn’t put this thing on speaker.
“Well, we’re on our way back to San Diego. Should we meet you there?”
I shook my head, though he couldn’t see me. “No, we’re at the Winchester House, waiting on you. Come here instead.”
“Waiting on me? Why are you waiting on me?” The poor guy sounded confused.
“It’ll all make sense once you’re here, and you’re going to be thrilled. It’ll all be over soon, my friend.” I grinned at Nash, giving it the full Meryl Streep treatment. Aren’t I such a wonderful friend? Nope… I suck. But I sucked out of necessity. Bigger personal fish to fry, and all that. As long as Huntress didn’t maul me if the truth came out, I’d count this as a win.
Raffe sighed. “Okay, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“See you soon, mi amigo!”
“Yeah… uh, see you soon.” Raffe hung up, but I pretended to stay on the line a minute longer.
“What? You’re breaking up.” I put on a show of straining to hear him. “Yeah, the Sanguine agreed to help you. No, I promise. As soon as you get here, we’ll pluck that djinn right out of you, and the two of you will be free. I know… yeah, I know you’ve gotten your hopes up before, but it’s really going to happen this time. I mean it. Okay? Okay. We’ll see you shortly. Yep, yep, bye… bye… yep, bye.”
“He’s on his way?” Nash ran a hand through his silver hair.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. “Yeah, he’s coming.”
I’m going to hell for this. Deep down, my doubts ran amok. Nash had helped cure my gremlins, and I was responding by being a class-A douche-hat. Would he really bolt if I mentioned Erebus now? Yeah, probably, if he had any sense. Unfortunately, the thought of disobeying Erebus trumped any qualms I had. I despised lying like this, for sure, but I had no choice. I hated it even more because Ryann had gotten sucked into it. She’d said such lovely things about me, and made Nash believe in me because of it. I mean, maybe she thought I actually had a way to help Raffe with Kadar. Wouldn’t that be the guilty icing on the cake?
One thing was for sure, I couldn’t have Raffe arrive without knowing the details of the deception. Or he’d accidentally blow this thing to smithereens.
“Can you hold the fort for a second?” I got up to excuse myself. “I need the little boys’ room. Cider goes right through me.”
Nash pulled a disgusted face. “TMI, Finch.”
“Apologies. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
Thirty-Seven
Finch
I hid in the men’s bathroom up the hallway, hunched on top of the closed toilet lid, like some bathroom-dwelling Gollum. I waited a couple seconds to make sure no spooky visitors would appear to sate their curiosity. Mary Foster had been weirdly absent since I’d returned to the Winchester House, and I wasn’t ruling out the chance that she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to get me alone.
Maybe Cecily had a word with her after all. A stern “back off” from the Winchester matriarch. Nash hadn’t gotten so much as a distant swoon from my spectral chum, which wasn’t like her at all. It suggested something had happened in our time away. Poor Mary… I wouldn’t have completed the map without her cheerleading skills. And she’d never been inappropriate with me. I’d been the inappropriate one, mentioning garters and knickers, so rude I could make a ghost blush.
Satisfied that I was truly alone, I dialed Raffe again. He picked up on the second ring.
“Finch? Everything okay?” He sounded on edge.
“Yes and no. I need to get you up to speed before you get here. It’ll make sense in a second… hopefully.” I took a breath and rattled off everything, finishing with, “So Nash thinks we need his blood to separate you from Kadar, and he needs to keep thinking that or he’ll run faster than a cheetah on steroids. Plus, we need a djinn to undo said poisonous djinn curse, or all this will be pointless, and I’ll be nailed to the wall and sliced up like a Christmas ham.”
“What did he just say?!” Santana’s voice came through the speaker, nearly taking out my eardrum. “You better hope I heard you wrong, Finch Merlin. You’re not pulling us into more crap, I swear to Chaos. We just escaped a bucket of crazy!”
Raffe sighed. “Sorry, Finch, I shouldn’t have put you on speaker.”
In the famous words of Winnie-the-Pooh—oh, bother. “How far away are you? And what bucket of crazy?”
“We were about to use a chalk door when you called, but it won’t open to the Winchester House,” Raffe explained. “I might’ve gotten the directions wrong. As for the crazy, I’ll explain when I see you.”
“Stay on the line—I’m going to try something.” Setting the phone down, I glanced around the bathroom, with its sickly lime walls and unsettling stains. “Mary? Are you there?”
I’d forgotten the defense protocols on this place. Trying to chalk-door to this house without Melody Winchester was like trying to break into Fort Knox with a toothpick. Strangers without an invite were instantly rebuffed. Sort of like a coven register.
Mary floated through the wall moments later, looking sheepish. “Before you jump to conclusions, I must insist that I was not eavesdropping, nor was I attempting anything voyeuristic. Cecily forbade me from speaking with any male fleshy, unless they speak to me first. As you have called me, I have merely answered.” She hesitated. “Although, perhaps you would do me the kindness of not mentioning this to Cecily, if you happen to see her? She has become quite the tyrant, when all I have done is compliment the true ancestor of the Winchester line upon his charming suits. They make him look like a teddy bear.” She giggled and quickly covered her mouth, as if Cecily might hear.
“Well, I’m pleased to see you. I thought you’d skipped town.” I smiled up at her.
“Your colloquialisms are as baffling as ever, my sweet Finch, but I have missed them so.” She swept closer, her hands clasped to her breast. “Now, why did you call? Did you simply wish to converse, or is it about that beastly contraption?” She eyed the cell phone on the toilet lid.
“Sadly, it’s the beastly contraption, but that’s nothing against you. I really did wonder where you were, and I was disappointed when you didn’t come to say hey. Not that you’d ever say ‘hey.’”
“That warms my cold, dead heart.” She sighed.
“What are friends for?” I replied, pleased to cheer her up a bit. “I’d flatter you more, but we need to get down to business. Do you think you could open a little pocket in the interdimensional bubble for a couple seconds, to let my friends through? They’re good folks, and I can vouch for them. I just need a word with them before I take them through to Melody and everyone.”
Mary’s eyes shimmered with sadness. “Because of the dying one?”
“Dying one?”
“The one in the checkered shirt, with the rather pleasing physique and alarming hair.” Mary smiled. “He does not look old, and yet his hair is silver. Most peculiar, but then so many youthful creatures color their hair all sorts of bizarre shades these days. I have seen at least one tourist enter the house with green hair! Green! Can you fathom it?”
“Unfortunately, I can fathom it. I bet you never saw any green hair in your day, eh, Miss Foster? Except in a freakshow maybe, which probably isn’t much different to what you saw. But yes, it’s because of the silver-haired one.” I paused. “Wait, you can tell he’s dying?”
She nodded slowly. “All those near their end are marked, though the living cannot see it. Do you intend to remove that mark? Oh, I do hope so. It would be a grave pity, most literally, to see such a specimen taken in his prime.”<
br />
“You’re making me jealous here, Miss Foster.” I chuckled. “But yeah, we’re planning to help him. Firstly, however, I need to speak to my friends. Can you do that for me?”
She tilted her head. “You wish me to open a ‘pocket,’ as you say, for a few seconds?”
“Just long enough to open and close a chalk door.”
“That is well within my capabilities, Mr. Merlin. Why, anyone would think I were a dolt, from the way you ask so tentatively.” She flashed a mischievous glance before floating to the wall and pressing her palms to it. “I shall enact your request upon your say-so. Would you like to convey the message through that ghastly object, to give your friends due warning?”
“You’re an eagle among pigeons, Miss Foster.”
She frowned. “Does that mean yes?”
“It does. Sorry.” I swiped up the phone and snapped a picture of the bathroom before sending it to Raffe. “Okay, I’ve sent a picture of where you need to go. Draw the chalk door now. I’m in the men’s bathroom on the ground floor, and you need to open it on the far wall, in the photo.”
“If this works, we’ll be with you soon,” Raffe replied. I heard scraping on the other end of the line and nodded to Mary so she could put her spook magic to work. Her palms pressed into the wall, making the sheen of the interdimensional bubble buckle and fizz as it bent to the forcefield. A second later, a doorway appeared, and in walked Raffe and Santana.
The latter wasted no time handing me my ass on a silver platter. “Are you whacked out of your loaf, Finch? You can’t trick some guy into giving his blood, and you can’t use Raffe in your little subterfuge. Especially when his curse is the one curse, apparently, that nobody can do anything about! Which I don’t mind, by the way, but I wish people would stop mentioning it!”
Harley Merlin 12 Page 29
