How to Claim an Undead Soul Read online

  The sound of her name set off a chain reaction of panicked impulses that set my pulse sprinting. I got my feet under me, thorns be damned, and ran to the back porch. The planks hummed under my feet, electrified. I tapped into the wards, and a lush symphony filled my head. Each note swelled into the next, allegro, allegro, allegro, and then—crescendo.

  Tears wobbled in my vision as I swung my head toward Linus, our gazes clashing as magic sang through me.

  Woolly was flush with power, the combination a strange mixture of Maud and me, a blending that felt right, that said home.

  The back door flung open as Woolly trumpeted her glee via smoke alarm.

  I stuck out my hand for Linus, inviting him up to join us, and I pulled him into a silly dance that made the tips of his ears flush red as he jangled in my arms like an anatomical skeleton on a faulty stand. I spun and whooped until I was dizzy. Linus, not willing to get near another of Woolly’s doors, guided me to the steps and helped me plop down without face-planting.

  “She’s so…” I waved my arms. “So…” I grabbed him and shook him. “Alive.”

  He let me rattle his marbles without complaint. “I’m glad.”

  “I forgot how good this feels.” The wood beneath me thrummed with potent magic, and I felt more alive than I had in years too. “We used to be so connected. She could ping me when she needed me, and I could sense her when I was in town. This feels like that.” I took his hand and placed it on the plank under my feet. “Can you feel it?”

  “I do.” His fingers spanned the wood. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

  “Drinking liquid sunshine,” I told him with a smile. “That’s how it feels.” I collapsed back across the porch and let the magic flow over and through me. “All of it, everything, was worth this. Having her back.”

  Linus relaxed his perfect posture, twisting around to watch as I made a fool of myself by creating paint-chip angels on the peeling back porch. “This, all of it, was worth it for me too.”

  The urge to ask what, specifically, he meant pursed my lips, but I feared how it might come out sounding. Did he mean leaving Atlanta, his job, his life, for this chance to observe me? Or did he mean the things Ambrose had done, the energies he had consumed, the power he had given them both?

  “What are you doing tonight?” The question popped out before I made the conscious decision to save him from himself. “Are you up for taking a fieldtrip?”

  “Nothing I can’t postpone.” He considered my face, and I wondered what he saw there. “Is everything all right?”

  “Remember how we talked about the ghost boy aboard the Cora Ann?” I laid my trap with such care, I might have walked into it myself. “He’s exhibiting odd symptoms.”

  “Oh?” Curiosity replaced his wariness. “How so?”

  “He spoke to me. Not at me, to me.” I wet my lips and sat upright. “He mentioned the night eternal coming for him.”

  “Loops can be convincing.” Linus shook his head. “He might have drowned in the dark. The river may be the eternal night that claimed him.”

  “He also mentioned the devourer was hunting him.” I placed no emphasis on the title. “He claimed that’s why he attacked Marit and me. He thought I was one too.” Ghosts were drawn to necromancers like bees to flowers, so it made sense I would read as other to him. “That doesn’t sound like a fear a six-year-old boy would have, not even one who drowned.”

  Linus hesitated a beat too long. “Did he say anything else?”

  “Only ‘He comes,’ followed by tears and a vanishing trick.” I couldn’t look at him anymore. “I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do, but I’ve never encountered a ghost that self-aware.”

  “Consider my interest piqued.” He arched an eyebrow. “What time do you want to go?”

  “I have a lesson with Taz and then work.” Neither appealed to me, but routine was important to maintain the illusion. “I’ll grab a bite on River Street after work and wait until the boat is empty. I’ll call you with the all clear.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said as he stood. “I have some reading to catch up on.”

  “Great.” How much damage could he do between now and then? “See you later.”

  Movement teased the corner of my eye, announcing Taz’s stealthy arrival. I was tempted to stay seated and let her take a free swing at me just to see her face when Woolly zapped her into next week for attacking me on warded ground. Thanks to the new sigils, I was safe even sitting on the bottom step with my feet resting in the cool grass.

  “You look like someone fed your parakeet to a cat.” She braced her feet apart and tapped her boot, the one usually flying at my face. It was weird seeing her use it for standing. “What happened?”

  “Doing the right thing sucks,” I confided. “It sucks hard.”

  “How is that a newsflash? People do wrong because it’s the path of least resistance. It gets them what they want without them putting in the work to earn it.” She popped her knuckles. “Being a good person is hard. Doing the right thing is hard. That’s why only masochists keep a clean nose.”

  “That’s the most I’ve heard you speak,” I marveled. “It’s also the first time I’ve been called a masochist.”

  A roll of her shoulders dismissed the conversation, and a curl of her fingers invited me to dance.

  Too bad this wasn’t the happy dancing I’d done earlier. Maybe I’d get lucky and Linus would patch me up one last time before I marched him off to the gallows.

  Thirteen

  Halfway through my lesson, Taz accused me of stepping into punches I could have deflected. Our earlier conversation left her convinced I was punishing myself, and she refused to be an enabler. She spat at me on her way out and informed me lessons were over until I got my head on straight. I wanted to fight her, and that more than anything convinced me the bare-knuckle brawl I craved was my dumbest idea yet.

  I had no business fighting with anything tougher than a plush bear.

  Taz would yank out my stuffing, gnaw off my button eyes and rip me apart at the seams if I kept pissing her off.

  Work didn’t go much better. I was tucked away in the same parlor on the Cora Ann and given another task to complete alone. I sneaked upstairs on my break, but I found Mr. Voorhees already there. He stood in the center of the room, his arms at his sides, flexing his hands into fists. I left him to whatever he was doing and slinked back to my post before he could pressure me to talk to the police. I almost tried again when Arnold dismissed me for the night, but I figured there was no point when Linus and I would return within a few hours.

  With that happy thought in mind, I drove to HQ and went in search of Amelie. But it was Neely who intercepted me in the hall with a wrinkled nose and reddening eyes.

  “What do they have you doing over there?” He sneezed three times fast. “Cleaning out sewers?”

  “I’ll have you know the perfume I’m wearing is eau de mold, not sewer.”

  “That explains it.” Another sneeze ripped through him. “You can’t stay here. I love you, but no. You have to leave. My allergy medicines can only do so much.”

  “I’m looking for Amelie.” I took a healthy step back. “How booked is she tonight?”

  “She’s not. At all.” He gave me a funny look. “She called in last night and tonight. She didn’t tell you?”

  “You must have your days wrong.” I frowned. “She picked me up after her shift last night.”

  “I can check her timecard if you’d like, but I’m telling you she wasn’t here. Cricket almost blew a gasket. Even after she shuffled the girls around, she still had to lead a tour herself to make up the difference. She was not pleased.” He dashed beneath his watery eyes and darted around me to hold open the door. “Sorry about the eviction notice, but you’ve got to go. Call me if you want to finish this conversation later.”

  A prickling sense of foreboding raised the hairs down my arms, but I wouldn’t let him see me rattled.

  “
I understand not everyone appreciates the bouquet of a good vintage mold the way I do.” It was a miracle that fungi-encrusted wallpaper hadn’t sent the Cora Ann’s passengers screaming long before Timmy. “We’ll have to catch up this weekend. Promise. I owe you a drink for getting me the job with Mr. Voorhees.” I fluttered my eyelashes. “Unless you don’t want the scoop on my date with Boaz.”

  Neely rolled in his lips, but a whimper escaped. “Begone, temptress!”

  “Oh, I’m going.” I winked at him on my way past. “And I’m taking the details of our playground rendezvous with me.”

  “You’re killing me.” He thumped his head on the door. “I’m in actual, physical pain.”

  “Yeah, if you’d stop banging your head, you wouldn’t have that problem.” I sashayed toward Jolene, grateful to Cricket for all her lessons as I played my part to the hilt. “Toodles.”

  Lost in thoughts of Amelie, I didn’t notice Detective Russo until she stepped into my path.

  “Ms. Woolworth.” She raked her avaricious gaze over me. “You’ve got your color back.”

  The distance to HQ and the safety it promised helped me stand my ground. “Can I help you?”

  “You can tell me the truth.” Her expression sharpened. “What really happened to Maud Woolworth?”

  “I told you she suffered a heart attack.” The Society would back that lie, though it tasted foul in my mouth. “Check the medical examiner’s report. You’ll find it matches my account.”

  Just that fast, she changed tactics. “Where did you go after Ms. Woolworth died?”

  Air solidified in my lungs, making breathing about as possible as taking flight. “Away.”

  “Can you be more specific?” She pulled out that damned notepad and checked one of its earliest pages. “Your mother is deceased. She died in a car accident when you were five. That’s when Maud became your guardian. There’s no mention of your father, so you couldn’t have gone to him. You were a minor. Someone had to care for you.”

  Care was not the word I would use. I had been fed and clothed and sheltered in the broadest sense, and that was all.

  “Given Ms. Meacham’s concern over your latest disappearance, and the signs of physical abuse present when we met, I must now consider her account in a new light.” The pen in her hand tapped against the pad, eager to record my miseries. “The blood at the scene—did it belong to you?” She whirled her pen around my face, the healed evidence of my latest bout with Taz still clear. “Who hurt you, Grier? Was it Maud? Or someone else? Are they still hurting you? Do you need help?”

  “Maud was my mother’s best friend. She was a second mother to me. She never raised a hand against me, and she would have ruined anyone who dared to try. Financially, socially, emotionally.” I set my jaw. “No one has abused me.” Lies, lies, lies. “I stayed with Clarice Lawson, Maud’s younger sister, until I came of age.” Lies, lies, lies. “That’s it. That’s all there is.”

  She set her mouth into a mulish line. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You asked me questions.” I shrugged. “I can’t help you don’t like the answers.”

  “What are you hiding?” Her hand snaked out to shackle my wrist. “Tell me the truth.”

  A black figure coalesced behind her, his bony fingers spread wide in anticipation.

  “Let go.” The clench of her hand made cold sweat blossom down my spine. “Or I’ll make you let go.”

  This woman had made an enemy out of me by invoking Maud, but it still wasn’t smart to go around roughing up Savannah’s finest. Not unless I wanted to bring the Grande Dame down on me.

  “You heard the lady.” The door to HQ swung open, and Neely strolled out with his phone lifted. He was recording the whole thing. “Let her go.”

  “Turn that off.” Russo’s fingers twitched on my arm, but she held tight. “Erase it. Now.”

  “That’s going to be a hard no, but thanks for asking.” He kept filming. “Oh, and in case you try to smash my phone, I maybe should have prefaced this by telling you this is live. You’re streaming to the world’s most popular social media site as we speak.” He flipped the camera to face him. “Hi, Mom!”

  Jaw clenched, Russo released me and backed away. “I will have my answers.”

  I wondered if our virtual audience heard the threat as clearly as I did.

  Neely killed the feed then zoomed in on Russo’s license plate as she sped off in her nondescript sedan. The click, click, click told me he had snapped photos before he pocketed the phone and swooped down on me.

  “Are you okay?” He trembled around me. “I was watching to make sure you got to your bike okay, and then I saw her blindside you.”

  “I’m glad you were here.” I sank against him. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “That’s the same cop who came to see you before, right?” He rubbed up and down my back like enough friction might soothe his shakes too. “What does she want?”

  “I’m not sure.” That much was the truth.

  “I tagged Cruz in that video.” He pulled back to look at me. “Is that okay?”

  Sure. Yeah. The more humans, the merrier. Goddess. The Grande Dame was going to have a dying duck fit. At least Cruz was on the Society payroll. They ought to be able to handle the damage control without me. “It’s fine.”

  “Oh, God, Grier.” He dropped his forehead to my shoulder. “I should have asked you first. I should have—”

  “You did fine.” It was not ideal, but it was done. “I’m fine. It will all be fine.”

  A phone chirped somewhere on his person, and he checked the display. “It’s Cruz. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “No, that’s okay.” I started making my escape. “I just want to go home and take a hot bath.” His face fell, and my heart ached. “Tell him to call me with any questions tomorrow, okay?” That would give the Grande Dame or whoever fed Cruz details time to sort out a cover story. “Tell him thank you from me in advance.”

  “Are you sure you should take Jolene?” The phone quivered in his grip. “I can drive if you need me.”

  “The fresh air will clear my head,” I promised him, since he was in no better shape than me. “I’ll call you when I get home and let you know I made it.”

  “Deal.” He toyed with the screen. “Be safe. Call if you need me.”

  I waved him off, straddled Jolene, and made my escape before we attracted more attention.

  Jittery from my encounter with Russo, I hit a coffee shop and texted Amelie. She didn’t reply. I almost called, but I didn’t want to push her. She must have had a reason for not telling me she was taking the weekend off. Knowing her, she wanted to cram before taking her last finals.

  Depressed over what I was about to do, I proceeded to make a bad situation worse by drinking roughly my weight in iced caramel macchiatos. There might have been a donut or two involved. A bear claw. Possibly one of those cream horn things too.

  I was clinging to Linus’s belief I needed to carb up like gospel.

  Linus.

  It was almost time to call him. I really, really didn’t want to lift my phone. But I couldn’t turn the other cheek, either. People—granted, they were undead people—were dying. Permanently. That was wrong, and it had to be stopped before the dybbuk claimed another victim.

  After sloshing my way to the restroom, I did my business and washed my hands until they sparkled.

  Procrastination was a serious talent of mine.

  Heart a weight in my gut, I dialed up Linus. “Hey, are you ready?”

  “I have a bag packed. I’ll grab it and be on my way.”

  Carrying luggage sounded fitting since he wouldn’t be going home after this for a long while.

  “I’ll meet you there.” I ended the call before guilt leaked into my voice then rode Jolene to River Street. I parked in the same spot where Becky had accosted me and listened to the night sounds. “Cletus, you with me?”

  The wraith drifted down to keep me comp
any, and I had to wonder when his presence had become a comfort. Probably about the time he started acting unwraithlike. Yet another mystery in need of solving. Linus had chosen a piss-poor time to go on a killing spree.

  A crimson sedan pulled alongside me and ejected Linus. He wore another pair of dark-wash jeans, a gray button-down shirt and work boots. A worn leather satchel crisscrossed his body. He murmured to the driver then turned to me.

  The spark of excitement in his smile nearly slayed me. He might not believe Timmy was the real deal, but it was clear he wanted it to be true. He was eager to see the ghost boy with his own eyes. “Are you ready?”

  I wished he hadn’t asked me that. “Can we duck in your car for a second?”

  “An obfuscation sigil.” He read me easily. “Good idea.”

  “I haven’t noticed any security or cameras onboard, but it’s not like they would tell me if preventative measures got installed after Marit was attacked.”

  Not when I was under suspicion as far as her father and much of the crew was concerned.

  Linus climbed back in and pulled a pen from his pocket, but I struggled to do more than perch on the edge of the bench seat. I was okay as long as I kept my feet planted on the ground, but swinging them onto the floorboard seemed as impossible as roping the moon. I tried, I really did, but the car was the same make and model as the one Volkov had stuffed me into weeks ago, and…

  The second the thought registered, I bolted and almost knocked over Jolene in the process. “I can’t.”

  “I understand.” He exited again and cast his gaze around the market. “Where is the shop you mentioned? The churro one?”

  “Esteban’s stall is that way.” Relief blasted through me when I realized I wouldn’t have to sit in the car. “He won’t mind if we use him for cover.”

  The man himself greeted us at the flap, smelling of sugar and fried dough, his arms dusted with white powder.

  “Back so soon?” He rubbed his hands together. “Good. You should come back every day until you’ve put on at least twenty more pounds. You’re too thin. You’re like a papery layer of phyllo.” He noticed Linus and drew him into the lecture. “Men like women with meat on their bones. Tell her.”