How to Claim an Undead Soul Read online

  Turning on his heel, he marched toward a section of fence like he planned on walking right through.

  “Wait.”

  “No.” Ambrose halted the length of a heartbeat and glanced over his shoulder. Dawn bathed his face in reds and oranges that sparked off his hair, and my first unobstructed look at him made my heart stutter. His flame-bright hair crackled, and the blue of his irises tipped into black while he stared at me, but what caught my eye was a cluster of freckles under his left eye that formed the petals of a daisy. “You have no power over me.”

  I took a halting step after him. “What are you?”

  “The night eternal.”

  And then he was gone.

  And I had my answer.

  Ambrose was the devourer. And, upon a second viewing, I was certain of his identity.

  Oh, Linus. What have you done?

  I retreated to Woolly and slumped on the front steps. I couldn’t resist checking the carriage house one last time before I set out for the park, but Linus hadn’t returned. Neither had Ambrose. Though I supposed one couldn’t very well travel without the other.

  Forsyth Park was rousing itself when I arrived. Runners mostly. Some joggers. A gaggle of elderly power-walkers. All eager to clock their miles before it got too hot. I was sweaty, and I hadn’t done anything but stroll beneath the moss-hung oaks down the walkway leading to one of the city’s most iconic sites.

  The cast-iron fountain burbled happily despite the hour, a pristine white that popped bright against the dark foliage of the surrounding trees. The robed woman atop its upper tier gripped her staff and held court high above the other denizens of the park. Wading birds and rushes lurked beneath the curling lip above which the figure stood. In the basin, swans spouted water over their heads while mermen blasted water from the shell horns lifted to their mouths.

  I stood there a moment, gripping the black wrought iron railing circling the fountain until it bit into my hands, enjoying the cool spray on my face.

  Hello, procrastination, my old friend.

  I pushed off the fence and made my way to the playground. I didn’t have to look far for Boaz. It was hard to miss him decked out in black tactical gear even if he hadn’t been sitting in a swing that looked ready to cry uncle.

  “I was starting to think I’d been stood up.” He patted his lap. “Do you remember how?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I walked up to him, so close our knees bumped. “That chain is about to snap from holding you. I’m not adding my weight too.”

  “Aww, come on.” His eyes twinkled. “For old time’s sake.”

  “I know this game.” I tsked at him. “You just want to get your boy bits near my girl bits.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do not tell your sister I fell for this.” Saying no when he was being playful had never been my strong suit. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

  He mimed zipping his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I got a death grip on the chains above his head and lifted myself up, letting him thread my legs to either side of his hips so that I sat in his lap, facing him. “This was a lot easier when I was ten.”

  Boaz started rocking us, his hands fisting the chain below mine. “It’s a lot more fun now, though.”

  “Is that what this is? Fun?” I darted a glance at the frame above us. “I feel like the chains will snap at any moment.”

  “I won’t let you fall.” He linked his arms around my waist. “See? Snug as a bug.”

  I cleared my throat, striving for a casual tone that was impossible with him wedged between my thighs. “So you’re in town to stake out the Cora Ann.”

  He just smiled. “Am I?”

  “Yes, you are.” I traced the shape of his lips with my finger, thrilled that I could, that he let me. “You’re using Timmy as bait to lure the devourer.”

  “You lost me.” His forehead creased. “Who’s Timmy?”

  “The ghost boy marooned on the Cora Ann.”

  “Ah. Him.” He snapped his teeth at my finger, and I squeaked. “You really should talk to a doctor about that whistling sound your nose makes.”

  I cradled my hand against my chest. “Stop trying to distract me.”

  “Spoilsport.” He sighed. “Savannah is experiencing a flux of energy that led the Society to believe a dybbuk had manifested. We got confirmation when it stepped up its game from extinguishing spectral hotspots to devouring ghosts to desiccating vampires.”

  “Vampires,” I echoed, as in more than one.

  “You don’t sound surprised.” His gaze sharpened. “What do you know about this?”

  I divulged what Amelie had overheard and waited on him to thunder about eavesdropping, but he appeared to be on his best behavior. Too bad I was about to poke him in a tender spot. “One of the deaths implicates your aunt. Doesn’t that make this a conflict of interest for you?”

  “Desmond Peterkin was the third victim.” He studied me. “I was already on the case by the time he was killed.”

  “Dybbuk are possessed necromancers.” I studied him right back. “That means you’re hunting one of our own.”

  “My duty, as an Elite, is to protect the Society and all its members. Even if I’m protecting it from itself.”

  I gripped the chains for support. “Do you have any idea who you’re hunting?”

  “Grier,” he groaned my name like a curse. “Your white-knuckled grip tells me you already know or think you do. Spill, Squirt.”

  While the Society might look the other way when ghost lights extinguished, vampires were paying customers. The Society was built upon their ability to deliver the promise of immortality. Necromancers didn’t play around when it came to money. One refund could dent a reputation. More than one could sink a family for centuries.

  Not even a Lawson was immune from crimes of this magnitude.

  “I met a man calling himself Ambrose in my garden,” I said softly. “He was wearing one of Linus’s shirts.”

  “I’m sorry, Squirt.” He covered my hands with his. “I know you wanted Linus to be your anchor, but from here it looks like he’s the one sinking.”

  I dipped my chin. “Does his mother know he’s involved?”

  “The Grande Dame has been kept out of the loop for obvious reasons. She’s aware of the disturbances, and she’s been informed there are Elite on the ground in Savannah, but she’s not privy to the specifics.” He rubbed his thumbs over my knuckles. “The only way this works is if we catch him red-handed. There can be no mistakes. Not with a Lawson. Our case must be airtight. We only get one chance. The Grande Dame will vanish her heir to protect him.”

  The Grande Dame’s fury if her son was exposed was too great for me to contemplate so late in my day. “How do you know the dybbuk will come to the Cora Ann?”

  “We’re hedging our bets. We’ve been seeding the local papers for weeks with updates on the supernatural disturbances in the hopes we might flush out our perp. We’ve secured television and radio coverage to get the word out about the poltergeist aboard the Cora Ann. We’ve done everything but tack up a neon sign that says All You Can Eat, but we haven’t gotten a nibble so far.”

  “That explains a lot, actually.” I hauled myself up by the chains and wriggled free of Boaz. The urge to pace struck me as soon as my feet hit the ground. “But it doesn’t explain why Timmy chose now to lose his marbles. He was a benign entity by all accounts until recently. The escalation of his behavior from spooking guests in empty halls to impaling them with silverware isn’t normal progression, even for a poltergeist of his strength.”

  “We amped him up,” Boaz admitted. “It was a last resort.”

  “Timmy will die.” I whirled on him. “Okay, so he’s already dead, but this will vanquish him for good.”

  There was no guessing if his energy would burn out before the dybbuk finished the job, but it felt cruel.

  “We had to bait our trap somehow.”

  “He’s
a little boy.” A scared little boy who had no explanation for his wild fits of violence.

  “He’s not sentient,” Boaz protested.

  That argument was holding less and less water with me these days. Cletus was more. Why couldn’t this little boy be too? I had no idea what made them different, but they were not just electrical charges and smoke.

  “He told me the devourer was coming.” That counted for something. He hadn’t been stuck in a loop murmuring stock phrases. He heard me, and he responded. “He understands he’s going to die. Again.”

  “I’m sorry, Grier, I really am, but I’m a cog in the machine, and the machine only cares about the bottom dollar. Vampires are worth more to the Society than ghosts. This operation will move forward, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “I need to get back home.” Giving up Linus felt like a betrayal, even if Boaz had already locked him in his sights. And learning the violence about the Cora Ann had been orchestrated to lure in the dybbuk made me sick when I thought of poor Marit and all the other victims viewed as acceptable losses because they were human. I backed toward the path. “I have a big project to finish tomorrow.”

  “Don’t walk away angry.”

  I shook my head, unable to articulate the problem. “I’m not angry.”

  His fist closed around one chain, and I imagined it gasping for breath. “Will you still call me?”

  “Yeah.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “I will.”

  “Help us get him on that boat, Grier.”

  “Help you…?” The true reason for this meeting smacked me in the face with enough force to turn my cheek. I should have known a career soldier wouldn’t break cover during a stakeout for anything so paltry as a kiss. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “He trusts you,” he coaxed. “The sooner we end this, the better it will go for him.”

  “I have to go.”

  The walk back to Jolene did nothing to improve my mood. I had forgotten to mention Russo to him, and I regretted not hugging Boaz goodbye or telling him to be careful. His job was dangerous, and there were no guarantees in life, but either I was going nuts or there was more to this than met the eye.

  Twelve

  I slept so deep not even the dream could touch me, and I woke without fanfare in my own bed.

  A flashback of the last time I’d woken in a bed hit me between the eyes so hard I whimpered.

  I’m home. I’m safe. I’m home. I’m safe.

  I was in my own bed, in my own room, wearing my own clothes. No eager maid dressed in frilly strawberry layers was poised to burst through the door to feed or water or pet or brush me. Volkov was locked away. The master was in the wind, but he wasn’t in my house, and right now that felt like a small victory.

  Woolly started the shower, and I didn’t fight her over the necessity. I got clean, dressed, and then clutched the grimoire across my chest like a talisman as I went in search of Linus.

  The carriage house door stood open, and the smell of coffee coiled around me in the entryway. “Linus?”

  He appeared, immaculate as always, and passed me a brown paper bag with the vulpine logo of a local coffee shop. “I had a craving for horchata and brought kolache for you.”

  “Thanks.” There was no horchata in sight, and I wondered if melding with a wraith meant you no longer had to eat or drink to survive. “I haven’t had kolache in…a long time.”

  The circular pastries came in a variety of flavors, and he had selected poppy seed and cream cheese for me, two of my favorites. One day I really would stop being surprised by what he remembered about me.

  “Eat up.” He poured me a glass of milk, sank into his spot at the table, and began flipping through a notebook. “You need to get started soon if you’re going to finish Woolly tonight.”

  I joined him and forced myself to bite into the sweet dough, to chew, to swallow. All the while I examined him for signs of Ambrose lurking beneath his skin and came up empty. Other than the dark circles under his eyes, there was no evidence to suggest he wasn’t simply a tutor enjoying a sabbatical in his home town.

  “You’re staring,” he mused without glancing away from his papers. “Do I have milk on my upper lip?”

  “No. Sorry. No.” I redoubled my efforts to stuff my mouth so full I couldn’t let the cat out of the bag. I crammed in the last bite and chased it with a gulp of milk. “Done.”

  Linus startled at my chipmunk cheeks and the dribble on my chin. “All right.”

  He gathered the remaining box from yesterday, and we walked to Woolly together. I was gripping Eileen so hard, the grimoire squinted. I willed my fingers to relax and settled on the ground in the spot where we’d left off last night.

  “Are you sure this is soft enough?” I smoothed my hand along the foundation, but it felt solid to me. “I should have sucked it up and finished this yesterday.”

  Ambrose would still be a mystery if I had, and Timmy would be just another ghost, and I wouldn’t feel so torn.

  “You couldn’t have finished it in a single night,” Linus assured me. “I was overly ambitious when I suggested it was possible.” He snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. I bought us a few items that ought to make this go more smoothly.”

  “Oh?” I sat in the grass and started arranging my workspace while he disappeared back into the carriage house. “Are you ready for this, Woolly?”

  The nearest window opened and shut in an affirmative.

  “The design is a bit loud,” Linus was saying as he approached, “but it ought to do the trick.”

  I twisted to see what he was talking about and goggled. “Oh, um. Wow.”

  He had bought us matching welding helmets. One was chili-pepper red, the other lime green, both with black and white scroll detail that flung out like spider webs across the back before dissolving into curling vines that snaked over the front. The name of the manufacturer had been stamped beneath all that in neat rows in an easy-to-read font. A sticker glued to the visor boasted automatic lens adjustment.

  “This was all they had in full helmets. I figured we might as well invest in case your magic holds more surprises we’ve yet to discover.” He dropped buttery-soft leather gloves in my lap as well. Their thinness reminded me of driving gloves. “These are cut and puncture proof. I bought them from a local law enforcement supply store. They’re strong enough to protect your hands from debris, but flexible enough not to impede your work.” One final item pooled across my knees after falling from his hand. “The jacket is reinforced with precurved sleeves and water-repellent zippers. It’s fully lined, and there are several interior pockets. There are also armor plates in the shoulders, elbows and back.”

  “This is a motorcycle jacket.” I couldn’t bring myself to touch what must be hundreds of dollars’ worth of leather and flash. “I can’t accept this.” My treacherous fingers slid over the supple black leather without permission, and I might have whimpered. “Okay, I can accept this.” I brought it to my nose and inhaled that new-leather scent like a dork. “But I’m paying you back.”

  “I’ll forward you the bill if that means you’ll use it.” His lips twitched as I rubbed the jacket on my face like I was one of the kittens from the garage. “You needed a new one. This way it can do double duty.”

  “You’re using logic against me.” I caved to temptation and shrugged into the new love of my life. “It fits.”

  “You have your friend Neely to thank for that. He was happy to select the cut and provide measurements.”

  Since Cruz worked for the Society, and I had confided in Linus about Neely, there was no mystery about how he had known where to go, but it still shook me how he mentioned my friend so casually.

  “Why am I not surprised he would use my measurements for evil?” I zipped up and flexed my arms, which probably looked like a chicken trying to take flight. “He knows I’m allergic to spending money.”

  “I told him we’re family, that it was a gift.”

  Dread
ballooned in my chest at his kindness. I didn’t fool myself that I knew Linus, but I couldn’t picture him murdering vampires without Ambrose as a monkey on his back. Before I thought better of it, I hooked an arm around one of his thighs in half of a hug. “Thank you.”

  The tips of his cool fingers skated over my hair. “You’re welcome.”

  After disentangling himself from me, he sat at my elbow to observe the final stretch. That’s when I noticed he wore a jacket similar to mine, insurance against any protest I might make against such a lavish gift, proving yet again how well he knew me. He removed a pair of gloves from his pocket and put them on then settled the helmet in place.

  Following his example, I pulled on my gloves and practiced sigils inside the grimoire for a few minutes. Certain that Linus was right, that my penmanship wouldn’t be affected, I set back to work applying the warding. When I finished the second side of the foundation, I popped on my helmet, and we braced ourselves as I swiped on the grounding sigil.

  Chunks of concrete pinged off our helmets and hit the ground as the design sank into the foundation.

  “Woohoo!” I crowed after double-checking that neither of us was bleeding on our arms or torsos. His precautions had paid off in spades. We removed our helmets and clanked them in a toast before strapping them back in place. “Success.”

  Settling into a rhythm, I finished up the pattern on the third side then painted on the grounding sigil. Cocky after that success, I completed the fourth then added the mélange with a twist of my wrist.

  An explosion rocked Woolly that sent us flying across the garden to land in a miniature rosebush with delicate apricot-colored blossoms. Thanks to the protective gear, their fragile thorns failed to pierce my leather-clad skin, but they tangled the ends of my hair and scratched at my ankles.

  “That was…unexpected.” I rolled my head toward Linus. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” He extracted himself from the pointy limbs with care not to damage it more than we already had then offered me a hand. We stripped out of our gear and dropped it in the grass. “We need to check on Woolly.”