Grave Danger (44 page)

“
Can’t you make things out of thin air?” Helen
asked as she touched the sleeve of Clarissa’s coat. “I heard that
ghosts can make things out of the energy of nature like magick or
something.”

“
I’m not very good yet,” Clarissa said, trying
to be modest, “but yes I can create objects using the energy of the
earth. Clothing is a little more difficult because it has to be so
precise or it comes off looking like a reject from Project
Runway.”

“
Oh, I love that show,” Maude exclaimed from
her position on the bed. “I’m sorry, Margaret Ann, but you are out.
Auf Wiedersehen, Margaret Ann.” She tried to say it in the best
German accent she could come up with as she made mock kissing
noises to Margaret Ann who rolled her eyes at her.

“
If anyone should be voted off it should be
Debora,” Margaret Ann said as Debora danced past her, dancing to
her own rhythm in her head and not paying any of them any
attention. Margaret Ann smacked Debora on her rainbow covered
behind. “Hey, Isadora Duncan, put some pants on, we don’t have all
night.”

Debora made an angry pouting face at her sister as
she massaged her behind. She flounced back in a way only Isadora
could have pulled off without looking ridiculous, swatting Margaret
Ann in the face with the tail of her scarf.

“
It feels so real,” Helen said as she touched
Clarissa’s clothes. “Somehow I thought it would look different or
that I couldn’t touch it.”

Clarissa took her coat off, laying it on the back of
a chair. “It is real, it just doesn’t last long. You can touch it
and feel that it’s real because your body holds some of the same
components that make up its conception. What makes you real also
makes the clothes real and it is what makes me real.”

“
So let’s see,” Debora said from across the
room as she stepped into her skirt. “Make some clothes to
wear.”

Clarissa felt their collective eyes on her as she
began taking off her dress. She wasn’t used to undressing in front
of people, but she had become somewhat used to putting herself on
display after spending a day with Isabella. At least these were
grown women who had more tack and if they saw something lacking in
her physic would at least keep it to their selves.

“
Ooo-lala, regardez tout que le lacet français
et le satin.”
Look at all that French lace
and satin.
Helen remarked as she and the other women
finally saw Clarissa in her under garments. “I don’t think this was
what I was expecting you to have on underneath that demure looking
dress. Cor’s eyeballs must roll into the back of his head seeing
you in this little François number.”

Clarissa didn’t comment. Instead she closed her
eyes, blocking them out for a moment as she concentrated on
creating from the natural elements at her disposal. Breathing in
and out she flipped through several choices she had seen in some of
her fashion magazines. She’d set up a subscription to Eidolon
Entertainment, a gossip magazine on the latest news about celebrity
ghosts and Drop-Dead, a new fashion magazine.

Whatever she picked it had to coordinate with what
the other women had on. So going with the same theme of colors she
chose a thigh length black skirt with a bit of dark blue lace at
the hem. The top was a form fitting tank top with a matching
cardigan. The soft fabric had intricate stitching detail, using
bright pink and mauve and lilac interspersed with cobalt blues and
periwinkle. To compliment the outfit she chose black strappy heels
with splashes of hot pink and lavender on the toe and heel.

The women watched as the clothes came together on
her body, as each piece was formed from what looked like thin air.
Clarissa’s hair moved as if a wind were blowing over her body, but
there was no wind in the room. The dark colors made her natural
glowing pale skin stand out even more. The stockings remained on
her legs held up by a fastidious garter belt and if she moved in a
certain way the top of it could be seen, a peek-a-boo invitation to
the eager eye of any male.

Clarissa opened her eyes to the pleased looks of her
boyfriend’s sisters. She knew that they had asked her over, not as
a simple invitation to go out with them on the town, but to put her
to the test to see if she really did deserve to date their baby
brother. She’d like to say that it didn’t matter what they thought
of her, all that mattered was what Corrigan thought of her, but
that wasn’t true. She needed their approval as much as she needed
Corrigan to accept her as she was. She was part of his life/death
now, but they would always be his family and that would always be a
deciding factor in their relationship. In the end, when it came
down to the bare bones of the truth she was not his species and
they were.

“
Do you approve?” Clarissa asked, meaning the
dress, but secretly meaning so much more.

Maude looked Clarissa up and down as she placed her
diamond earrings in her ear lobes. She brushed her long shinning
red tresses over one shoulder, running her fingers through the
ends. Her eyes met Clarissa’s with an intensity that would leave
most wanting to bow at her feet in sublimation, but Clarissa
remained standing meeting that look without flinching.

“
We’re getting there,” she said.

***∞***

Wonderwall
was
streaming through his head as he sat on the couch in the sitting
room on the first floor. Chas had put the ear buds in his ears and
plugged him into his mp3 player. Chas knew what he liked and that
Oasis was one of his favorite groups. He kept he eyes closed as the
music swam through his brain as the fluid from the third bag of
blood went through his system.

Corrigan could hear the sound of his own shallow
breathing inside his ears. When he finally managed to crack his
eyes open it was to see the looming face of his eldest brother. The
expression he wore made him wonder whether Ambrose was going to hug
him or punch him in the face. If he’d been Xavier he would bet the
latter one, but then a solid punch from Xavier was like a mother’s
hug.

Ambrose held up an empty bottle of his finest
whiskey so it was clearly in Corrigan’s line of vision. He shook it
to emphasis its lack of content. There was deceptiveness in
Ambrose’s appearance. That because of his youthfulness he wasn’t as
great a threat as the others in the family. That was a lie. Despite
his boyish good looks he was a man full grown with the knowledge
and experience of many lifetimes to back him up.

Ambrose knew how to survive and that he took any
means necessary had always appealed to Corrigan in the past. But
Corrigan wondered if his brute determination made him reckless and
lately there were many questions left unanswered to create mistrust
between the brothers. He’d never really believed his response to
Cyrus’s meeting in their home and now there was a death bokor in
town.

Clarissa had explained on their way back to his
house that she’d met the bokor that evening at the Eidolon dinner
function at the ruling council member’s home. They’d been planning
this for weeks but the surprise guest had only been revealed on the
night of the dinner.

“
I quit,” she’d said to him. At first he
didn’t understand what she’d meant until she explained further.
“I’m not on the advisory council anymore. I can’t be part of their
scheming against your family.” Then a look of embarrassment had
crept into her face and it had taken some cajoling to get her to
finish. “I told him he could go,” she made a gesture that was
easily understood. Corrigan was both shocked and a little bit
proud. He would have liked to have seen the look on the old ghosts
face. Cyrus was in many ways, though he’d never thought this
before, very much like Ambrose.

Corrigan felt the IV tube being taken from his arm.
He felt almost better, but it would take a lot more than bags of
blood to satisfy him.

“
Are you proud of yourself, Corrigan?” Ambrose
said. He threw the empty bottle at Corrigan who managed to catch it
before it made solid contact with his head. “I knew this woman
would bring trouble down on my house.” He eyed his youngest brother
closely. “You think I don’t know of the death bokor they’ve brought
into town? You think I don’t see the way you watch me these days?
She has brought mistrust between us, between you and your siblings.
And you put us all in grave danger by your actions with a woman you
barely know.”

“
I know her,” Corrigan said
defensively.

Ambrose paced back and forth across the room. His
hands behind his back he mumbled to himself in French.

Chas was lounging in one of the chairs, his arms
crossed aggressively across his chest, his green eyes flashing
angrily at his younger brother. “So you know she was a bokor. That
she spent her life destroying things like us and if she wasn’t dead
she would still be out there hunting our kind down. You think just
because she’s a ghost now she doesn’t still have that drive to
exterminate us? It’s engrained in them. It’s who they are, and you
can’t change that. Just as we can’t change what we are.”

Trueman was putting his equipment away in his
oversized medical bag when a thought came to him. He’d spent a good
part of his life and death studying the human body, first as a
professor at Rutgers College and then later after his death, in his
own home.

Tradition had it that the flesh-eater needed to
consume the nutrients of the living to keep themselves from
becoming the mindless zombie creatures of Hollywood and the
literary world. Neither of which had ever really got the history of
them correct. But it wasn’t the blood and flesh that was so
important, it was what was mixed in, running through like a living
energy inside a human body that supplied the living with the one
thing that separated the flesh-eater from them. And it wasn’t the
soul, as one might imagine. No, it was the essence of life which
wasn’t metaphysical but tangible. Animals had it in small doses,
but not like in a human. If this could be harnessed it could not
only extend a flesh-eater existence but that of anyone connected
with the supernatural.

And Clarissa’s life’s essence was almost completely
intact in her ghostly form, which meant she had been strong in life
to keep so much of it intact when part of her passed on. She’d
retained enough that at times she acted almost alive. And she
couldn’t die as a normal human would because there was no blood and
flesh blocking access to her stream of essence. It was right there,
perfect access.

“
No,” Trueman said, almost shouting. Heads
turned and faces drew into similar expressions of disapproving
confusion.

Corrigan removed the ear buds from his ears
just as Nirvana’s
In Bloom
was
starting to play. Trueman had this look on his face that reminded
him of a mad scientist from one of those B-movie horror
films.

“
Trueman,” Ambrose said as his brainy brother
remain fixed on the floor, his body still as his mind went into
overdrive. Sometimes he would be talking to Trueman then he’d turn
away for a second and when he turned back his brother would be
gone. Ambrose had learned long ago that real geniuses had moments
of insanity that most people mistook for a lack of social skills.
His brain just worked differently than the average person. “What is
it?” he continued after Trueman remained quiet staring off into a
world of his own making.

“
If I could just find a way to replicate the
essence then I’d only need a small amount.” Trueman was talking but
no one was following along. He continued rambling using big words
such as electrophoresis.

Xavier crossed the room from his position by the
door to pop his brother on the side of his head. Trueman
immediately clutched his head, the pain in it making his brain slow
down to a normal human level.

“
What the hell is the matter with you?”
Trueman barked. “Why did you clock me in the head for?”

“
Oh, I’m sorry,” Xavier drawled. “I thought
you were freezing up and about to crash. I always find it easiest
to fix mechanical problems by giving them a good smack. That’s what
I always do to the computer at home when it starts acting
goofy.”

Trueman stood up to his full height, staring down
the distance to his stubborn older brother. “I’m not a mechanical
device,” he growled low. Even though he was a brain, he wasn’t a
weenie. If Trueman wanted to, he could easily take down his
brothers; the glasses were as deceptive as Ambrose’s boyish
looks.

“
Usted me podría haber engañado, el
hermano,”
You could have fooled me,
brother.

Trueman ignored Xavier. He wasn’t in the mood for a
fight, not when he’d had such a great epiphany. He looked around at
his brothers, men who under different circumstances would never
have known each other. Now, with a great deal of work ahead of him,
he could very likely find a means to save them and himself.

“
I think I found a way to satisfy and tame the
beast.”

Chapter 25-

“
Here,” Maude shouted over the music as she
put a glass in Clarissa’s hand. They were all sitting in one of the
booths in the in the lounge area of the nightclub. Located on the
corner of Washington and Orange Avenue,
Necropolis
was a Goth Club that supported a
vampire friendly environment; not that many of the undead actually
hung out here. A very melancholy interior with New Wave/Alternative
upstairs and Dark Wave and Industrial Goth downstairs, piped in
through a fancy sound systems.