Bone Crossed (18 page)

When he still looked scared, I told him, “Your mother will be home sooner or later. When she comes upstairs, we can have her let us out.” Then I had an idea. I slipped my phone out of my front pocket, but when I called the number I’d saved for Amber, I could hear the phone in her bedroom ring.

“Does your mom have a cell phone?” She did. He punched the number in, and I listened to her cell phone tell me she wasn’t available. So I told her where we were and what had happened.

“When she gets the message, she’ll come let us out,” I told Chad when I was finished. “If she doesn’t, we’ll call your dad. Want to see what’s in the last trunk?”

He wasn’t happy about it, but he leaned on my shoulder while I finagled the last lock.

We both stared at the treasure revealed when the last trunk opened.

“Wow,” I said. “I wonder if your parents know this is up here.” I paused. “I wonder if this is worth anything?”

The last trunk was completely full of old records, mostly the thick black vinyl kind labeled 78 rpm. There was a method to the storage, I discovered. One pile was all children’s entertainment—
The Story of Hiawatha,
various children’s songs. And a treasure,
Snow White
complete with a storybook in the album cover that looked as though it had been made about the same time as the movie. Chad turned up his nose at
Snow White,
so I put it back in the correct pile.

My cell phone rang and I checked the number. “Not your mom,” I told Chad. I flipped open the phone. “Hey, Adam. Did you ever listen to the Mello-Kings?”

There was a little pause, and Adam sang in a passable bass,
“Chip, chip, chip went the little bird ...
and something, something, something went my heart. I assume there’s a reason you asked?”

“Chad and I are going though a box of old records,” I told him.

“Chad?” His voice was carefully neutral.

“Amber’s ten-year-old son. I have in my own two hands a 1957 record by the Mello-Kings. I think it might be the newest one in here—nope. Chad just found a Beatles album ... uhm, cover. It looks like the record is missing. So the Mello-Kings are probably the newest thing here.”

“I see. No luck hunting ghosts?”

“Some.” I looked ruefully at the closed door that was keeping us prisoner. “What about you? How’re negotiations with the Mistress?”

“Warren and Darryl are to meet with a pair of her vampires tonight.”

“Which ones?”

“Bernard and Wulfe.”

“Tell them to be careful,” I told him. “Wulfe is something more than just a vampire.” I’d only met Bernard once, and he hadn’t impressed me—or maybe I was just remembering Stefan’s reaction to him.

“Go teach your granny to suck eggs,” said Adam calmly. “Don’t worry. Have you seen Stefan?”

I touched my fingers to my neck. How to answer that.
“I don’t know, he might have bitten me last night,”
somehow didn’t seem the right thing to say. “He has been making himself scarce so far. Maybe tonight he’ll stop in to talk.”

I heard the door open downstairs. “I need to go now, Amber’s back.”

“All right. I’ll call you tonight.” And he hung up.

Someone ran up the stairs and into the bedroom. “Your mother’s home,” I told Chad, and began replacing the records. They were heavy. I couldn’t imagine what the whole trunk might weigh. Maybe they packed the trunk when it was already in the attic—or had eight strapping werewolves to carry it.

“It’s locked,” I told Amber, as she rattled the door. “I think there’s some kind of a catch on your side.”

She was breathing hard as she pulled the stairs down.

Her attention was all for Chad, and she didn’t bother with speech as her hands danced.

“We’re fine,” I interrupted her. “You have some neat records here. Have you had them valued?”

She turned to stare at me, as if she’d forgotten I was there. Her pupils were ... odd. Too large, I decided, even for the dim attic.

“The records? I think Corban found them when we bought this house. Yes, he checked them out. They’re nothing special. Just old.”

“Did you have a good time shopping?”

She looked at me blankly. “Shopping?”

“Amber, are you all right?”

She blinked, then smiled. It was so full of sweetness and light that it gave me cold chills. Amber was many things, but she wasn’t sweet. There was something wrong with her.

“Yes. I bought a sweater and a couple of early Christmas presents.” She waved it away. “How did you get stuck here?”

I shrugged, replacing the last records and pulling the trunk shut. “Unless you have someone breaking into your house to play nasty practical jokes, I’d say it was the ghost.”

I stood up and started past her to the opened door. And I smelled vampire. Could Stefan be staying here? I paused to look around while Chad thundered down the attic stairs leaving his mother and me alone with the smell of vampire and fresh blood.

“What’s wrong?” Amber said, taking a step forward.

She smelled of sweat, sex, and a vampire who was not Stefan.

“Was shopping all you were doing?” I asked.

“What? I had my hair done, paid a few bills—that’s it. Are you all right?”

She wasn’t lying. She didn’t know she’d been a snack for a vampire. Today.

I looked at the daylight streaming through the windows and knew I desperately needed to talk to Stefan.

I WAITED UNTIL DARK, THEN QUIETLY SNUCK OUT THE back door and into the yard.

“Stefan?” I called, keeping it quiet so no one in the house would hear me.

It wasn’t as stupid as all that to call for him. He’d come here to keep an eye on me. It made sense that he’d be nearby, somewhere. Watching.

I waited for a half an hour, though, and no Stefan. Finally, I went inside and found Amber watching TV.

“I’m going to bed,” I told her.

Her neck, I noticed, was bared to the world without blemish—but there are other places a vampire can feed. My own neck sported a scarf, one of several I’d picked up that afternoon on a Goodwill shopping spree that Chad and I had taken. The only thing I’d found resembling a lamb had been a barrette with a cartoon sheep on it. Not something to invoke the protection of the Son of God.

“You look tired,” she said with a yawn. “I know I’m exhausted.” She muted the TV and faced me. “Corban told me about last night. Even if you can’t do anything else, it means a lot to me that you’ve convinced him that Chad isn’t just making things up and acting out.”

I rubbed the vampire bite, safely hidden under bright red silk. Amber had a lot bigger problem than a ghost, but I had no idea how to help her with that one either.

“Good,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Once I was in my room, I couldn’t force myself to go to sleep. I wondered if Corban knew what his client was and knew that the vampire was feeding from his wife, or if he was a dupe like Amber. I wondered at the oddity of Corban, who didn’t believe in ghosts, suggesting Amber ask me to come and help them with theirs. But if the vampire had decided to bring me here ... I had no idea why. Unless it was some secret conspiracy, a way for Marsilia to get rid of me, punish me for my sins without worrying about the wolves. But I didn’t see Marsilia being anxious to owe a favor to any vampire—and a vampire who was so territorial that he allowed no other vampires at all was a poor candidate for cooperative problem solving.

Speaking of Blackwood ... he’d called Amber to him in the day. I’d never heard of a vampire who was alive during the day, though admittedly my experience with vampires was limited. I wondered where Stefan was.

“Stefan?” I said, keeping my voice down. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Maybe he couldn’t get in because he hadn’t been invited. “Stefan? Come in.” But he still didn’t answer.

My phone rang, and I couldn’t help the silly butterflies in my stomach when I answered.

“Hey, Adam,” I said.

“I thought you’d want to know that Warren and Darryl made it out of the vampire den alive.”

I sucked in my breath. “You didn’t actually agree to their meeting on Marsilia’s grounds?”

He laughed. “No, it just sounded better than saying they made it out of Denny’s alive. It might not be romantic, but it’s open all night and set in the middle of a brightly lit parking lot with no dark places for skulking parties to ambush from.”

“Did they accomplish anything?”

“Not exactly.” He didn’t sound worried. “Negotiations take time. This round was all posturing and threats. But Warren says he thinks Marsilia might be after something more than just your pretty little hide—a couple of hints Wulfe let drop. Marsilia knows I won’t budge on you, but she might be willing to negotiate on something else. How are you doing?”

“The walking stick followed me here,” I told him, because I knew it would make him laugh again.

He did. And the rough caress of his mirth made my bones melt. “Just don’t buy any sheep while you’re out, and you’ll be safe.”

The stick that followed me home and, in this case, to Spokane had originally had the power of making every sheep belonging to its caretaker bear twins. Like most fairy gifts, sooner or later it back-fired on its human owner. I didn’t know if it still worked that way, and I didn’t know why it was following me around either, but I was getting sort of used to it.

“Any luck with your ghost?”

Now that we were safely out of the attic, I could tell him about it without him speeding all the way over to rescue me. If Blackwood had ignored me—mostly, anyway—he certainly wouldn’t ignore the Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack.

When I was finished, he asked, “Why’d it trap you in the attic?”

I shrugged and wriggled on the bed to get more comfortable. “I don’t know. Probably the opportunity just presented itself. There are fae who cause mischief like this—hobs and brownies and the like. But this was a ghost. I saw it myself. What I haven’t seen is any sign of Stefan. I’m a little worried about him.”

“He’s there to make sure Marsilia doesn’t send anyone after you,” said Adam.

“Right,” I said. “So far, so good.” I touched the sore spot on my neck. Could that be another explanation? Could it have been one of Marsilia’s vampires?

But the sick feeling in my stomach told me that it wasn’t. Not with Blackwood free to come and go in Amber’s home. Not with Amber called, seduced, and fed from
—in daylight.

“You don’t get to be as old as Stefan is without being able to take care of yourself.”

“You’re right,” I said, “but he’s been cut adrift, and I’d be happier if he weren’t making himself so scarce.”

“He’d not be much help in a ghost hunt—don’t ghosts avoid vampires?”

“Ghosts and cats, Bran says,” I told him. “But my cat likes Stefan.”

“Your cat likes anyone she can convince to pet her.”

Something about the way he said it—a caress in his voice—made me suspicious. I listened carefully and heard it, a faint purr.

“She likes you, anyway,” I said. “How’d she talk you into letting her into your house again?”

“She yowled at the back door.” He sounded sheepish. I’d never seen or heard of a cat that would associate with werewolves or coyotes until Medea announced her presence at the door of my shop. Dogs will—and so will most livestock—but not cats. Medea loves anyone who will pet her ... or has the potential to pet her. Not unlike some people I know.

“She’s playing you and Samuel off each other,” I informed him. “And you, my dear sir, have just succumbed to her wiles.”

“My mother warned me about succumbing,” he said meekly. “You’ll have to save me from myself. When I have you to pet, I won’t need her.”

Faintly, through his phone, I heard the doorbell ring.

“It’s pretty late for visitors,” I said.

Adam started to laugh.

“What?”

“It’s Samuel. He just asked Jesse if we’ve seen your cat.”

I sighed. “Men are so easy. You’d better go confess your sins.”

When I disconnected, I stared into the dark wishing I were home. If I were sleeping with Adam next to me, no stupid vampire would be chewing on my neck. Finally, I got up, turned on the light, and brought out the fairy book to read. After a few pages, I quit worrying about vampires, pulled the comforter closer around my shoulders-Amber must like her AC down at werewolf levels—and lost myself in the story of the Roaring Bull of Bagbury and other fae who haunt bridges.

I woke up shivering sometime later, clutching the fairy staff, which I’d last seen leaning against the wall next to the door. The wood under my fingers was hot—a contrast to the rest of the room. The cold was so intense my nose was numb and my breath fogged.

A moment after I woke up, a high-pitched, atonal wail rang through the walls of the house, abruptly cutting off.

I dumped my covers on the floor. The rare old book met the same fate—but I was too worried about Chad to stop and rescue it. I ran out of my bedroom and took the requisite four steps to the boy’s room.

The door wouldn’t open.

The knob turned, so it wasn’t locked. I put my shoulder against the door, but it didn’t budge. I tried to use the walking stick, which was still warmer than it should have been, as a crowbar, to force the door open, but it didn’t work. There was nowhere to get a good place to pry.

“Let me,” whispered Stefan just behind me.

“Where have you been?” I said, relief making me sharp. With the vampire here, the ghost would go.

“Hunting,” he said, putting his shoulder to the door. “You looked like you had everything under control.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, appearances can be deceiving.”

“I see that.”

I heard the wood begin to break as it gave reluctantly for the first few inches. Then it jerked away from the vampire and flung itself against the wall with a spiteful bang, leaving Stefan to stumble into the bedroom.