One Grave at a Time (7 page)

Nine

A
huge building loomed in front of us, dark exterior looking ominous even with the many gold-edged leaves on the trees surrounding the grounds. Hundreds of windows reflected the moonlight as if in stark rejection of any illumination penetrating the structure’s interior. Every so often, shadows would pass by those windows, and voices would drift out on the crisp autumn air, but the former hospital was empty.

Well, empty of anyone who was solid. All the members of N.I.P.D., the Northeastern Investigative Paranormal Division that Tyler had recommended, were still outside with us. They’d just finished setting up their equipment in various rooms of the former Waverly Hills Sanatorium. Now they were huddled up in a final group pep talk before they started their documentation of everything that went bump in the night here.

The sanatorium might have closed decades ago, but it was quite the popular attraction, as it turned out. The curious paid for guided tours of the facility, hearing all about its history and the many anecdotes of ghostly encounters. Amateur or professional paranormal buffs could opt to have the hospital all to themselves for a night of investigation, provided they paid the proper amount and booked in advance. Waverly Hills Sanatorium had a waiting list, and the owners didn’t give refunds if a group missed its scheduled appointment.

That was why Bones and I were meeting the investigators—they didn’t like the term “ghost hunters,” as it turned out—here instead of at a local coffee shop or somewhere else normal. They’d planned their evening at Waverly weeks ago and weren’t about to lose their time slot—or their money—just to talk to Tyler’s new clients, as they considered Bones and me. For our part, we weren’t willing to waste another day and night before finding out if they could help with Kramer. After Tyler set up our chat, we hopped in the car for a road trip to Louisville, Kentucky. Taking a plane would have been faster, but we weren’t about to go anywhere unarmed, and airport security frowned on suitcases filled with a stockpile of weapons.

Tyler refused to leave Dexter behind, saying the dog would give us precious seconds of warning if Kramer was about to spoof up. Dexter did seem to have an uncanny radar for ghosts; he’d begun to whine in that eerie way of his as soon as we pulled up to the sanitarium. By comparison, it took Tyler a few minutes
after
we arrived to even see the shadows passing by the windows. Of the two of them, I had to admit that Dexter seemed to be the more qualified medium.
Maybe Spade’s demonologist friends really recommended Dexter, and the message somehow got garbled,
I thought ruefully.

“Let’s get this party started!” Chris, N.I.P.D.’s team leader, finished his pep talk with.

“Finally,” Bones muttered, too low for anyone but me to overhear.

We’d promised not to start with our questions until all of their prep work was done, having been told that setting up was too crucial for distractions. Little did we know how much prep work they were talking about. We’d been standing outside for a good two hours. If left to himself, Bones might have green-eyed Chris and the others into forgetting about their set-up-first conditions, but he knew I would have objected to that. We were here because we wanted their help, not the other way around. Besides, two hours of polite waiting wasn’t going to make or break our circumstances with Kramer.

Unless he showed up soon in another murderous mood.

“So,” Chris said, sizing us up as he approached. I didn’t mind that he’d barely glanced our way before this. All his attention had been on making sure his team was prepared, and that was a plus in my book. “What’s this big, urgent issue that Tyler tells me can’t wait until tomorrow?”

Bones glanced at the van with N.I.P.D. painted on the side, the endless cords for their equipment, and the dozen team members bustling about before he replied.

“You doing this because you truly believe in activity on the other side, or because you want to make a bit of profit off the gullible?”

Chris bristled, his cheeks becoming ruddier above his beard while his scent flared with anger. That wasn’t what I paid attention to. It was his spate of thoughts.

So sick of dealing with ignorant pricks who can’t see beyond what society tells them to believe. Never should’ve agreed to let Tyler bring them here tonight; we’ve got too much work to do.

“I have a Master of Science in Engineering from Stanford, so I can make more money with a hell of a lot less effort in about a hundred different fields,” he replied evenly. “If that doesn’t answer your question, then you’re wasting my time.”

Satisfaction flitted across the edge of my emotions. Someone smart who was passionate about his work and dedicated to his team was more than I’d hoped for. Maybe Tyler had hit a home run directing us here.

“Make sure you do EVPs and take lots of pictures on five,” Chris called out to a young woman who hurried past us.

I glanced up toward the sixth floor, where I’d seen the most shadows pass by the windows. This facility primarily contained residual ghosts; brief, repeating snapshots of people who had long since passed on, no more sentient than a splice of frames from a film reel. Judging by the levels of energy emanating from the building, a couple sentient spirits also called Waverly Hills home, but they didn’t stick to one place in this huge facility. The sixth floor would yield the best chance for pictures of unexplainable shadows or orbs. Not anything that would make headline news, but at least it’d be something tangible that Chris’s group could take home with them. They’d rented this place for the night; might as well help steer them into getting their money’s worth.

“Try six instead,” I suggested. “You’ll have better luck.”

Chris’s gaze narrowed. “Five has had more reported cases of incidents,” he countered.

I smiled blandly. “Six will net you more solid data, but hey. It’s your show.”

Chris looked at Tyler, who nodded in confirmation. Bones just folded his arms, his coolly detached expression revealing nothing. The young woman balanced her tripod camera on her hip, and I didn’t need to tap into her thoughts to know it was heavy. Chris gave a last, musing glance at me before he spoke again.

“Start on six first, Lexie.”

Fucking tourists should just keep their mouths shut,
Lexie thought, but her “sure thing!” was as cheerful as it was false. I wasn’t offended. She could take orders and knew when to keep her opinions to herself. Again my hopes lifted about this group.

“Follow me,” Chris said after a measured silence. “We’ll talk while I work.”

W
e had covered most of the first floor by the time I finished telling Chris what we were looking for, and why. He kept his verbal comments to a minimum; but from his thoughts, Chris had trouble believing who Kramer was, not to mention the extent of the Inquisitor’s abilities. Just like Tyler predicted. That was okay. Two sentient—and chatty—ghosts had been not-so-stealthily following me from the moment I crossed through Waverly Hills’ doors. From their matching, dated clothes, I deduced that they were former patients of the facility. Their comments to each other revealed that since they’d died, they liked to pass the time by playing pranks on visitors, especially ghost investigators. Perfect.

I waited until Chris paused in front of what looked like a large, lengthy tunnel before I put my plan into action.

“You, hiding behind the support beam, what’s your name?” I said to the ghost currently skulking a few yards off. He came out with a “busted” expression on his filmy countenance, twisting the edges of his long-sleeved, pale pajamas.

“Herbert.”

“Who are you talking to?” Chris wondered, looking in that direction but, of course, seeing no one.

“One of Waverly’s former residents,” I replied, thinking the ghost was too young and cute to be named Herbert. “Can you do me a favor, Herbert? Fly through the bearded man’s body.
Only
the bearded man.”

Herbert obeyed without hesitation. Dexter barked once at the ghost’s zooming approach, but before Chris finished muttering, “What kind of joke is this?” the ghost dove right through his upper torso and appeared out on the other side.

Chris stood absolutely still. Thoughts skidded across his mind almost too fast for me to read.
Guts feel cold. Tingly, but she couldn’t actually be able to
direct
a ghost to do what she wants, could she? No fuckin’ way.

“Stomach feels a bit unusual? A little icy and shivery, maybe?” I asked softly.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Ooh, that looks fun!” the other ghost cried, abandoning his attempt at hiding in the ceiling ducts to dive through Chris’s upper right side. More chaos sounded in Chris’s mind. Dexter barked again.

“You just had that same icy, prickling feeling in your right shoulder this time,” I said in a matter-of-fact way. “There’s another ghost in the room, and he’s a little playful. But if you need more proof that this isn’t a coincidence, I can tell them to do more demonstrations.”

The word “no” resounded in his mind, but Chris swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yeah. One more.”

Had to admire his courage. Chris might have studied paranormal phenomena and believed in ghosts for years, but I knew firsthand that having a ghost repeatedly bullet through your flesh was an unsettling experience.

“Herbert, one more time, please.”

The ghost complied, choosing Chris’s left calf to zip through this time. He was quickly followed by his buddy, who took the same path. Two shudders rocked Chris before his widened hazel gaze met mine. I shrugged.

“You felt that in your lower left leg. Twice, because his friend thought it looked fun, too.”

“Who
are
you people?” Chris asked with a touch of incredulity.

Bones draped an arm around my shoulder, smiling languidly at the investigator.

“We’re wealthy and on a timetable. Any more questions?”

Chris swallowed again as his mind spun to compartmentalize all that had just happened.
What if she isn’t wrong about who this other ghost is, and what he can do? Still, even if it’s risky, there’s too much to learn to say no.

“One more question,” he said at last. “When do you want my team to get started on your problem?”

“Tomorrow,” Bones stated, his arched brow hinting that objections wouldn’t be acceptable.

Chris cleared his throat, a businesslike composure replacing his former uncertainty. “So we’re clear, I don’t know how to kill a ghost. I don’t even think that’s possible. What I do know, in theory, is how to imprison one, but for that you’d need to supply me with a lot of limestone, naturally running water, quartz, and moissanite.”

“Not a problem, you’ll have everything you need when you start tomorrow,” Bones replied without hesitation.

“He will?” Okay, I knew Bones approached every challenge with confidence, but it’s not like we could buy all those things at our local Walmart tonight.

He gave me a bland look. “Yeah, he will, Kitten.”

I stared at him in confusion until understanding dawned. “
Oh
,” I drew out. Then I grinned at Chris. “Not a problem at all.”

Ten

I
shielded my eyes from the bright beam on Chris’s hard hat as he swung around in my direction. The glare was almost painful, but without those streams of light, Chris and his team would have been completely sightless in the cave. Bones and I had no need of artificial aid to see, and in any event, we both knew this place like the back of our hands. After all, this was where our relationship had begun.

“Reckon there should be enough limestone and running water for you here, and five hundred pounds of quartz and moissanite will be delivered later,” Bones stated, his wave encompassing the rocky underground riverbed we were gathered on. “Will that be sufficient?”

Chris’s headlight was aimed at Bones’s face, but unlike me, he didn’t blink under its harsh glare.

“It’s enough, but underground like this, cramped quarters, no electricity . . . it’ll take me a month at least to build the trap. Of course, the real problem is what’ll happen if the owner of this cave finds out what we’re doing.”

“No worries. I’m the owner, and it’s wired for electricity in places,” Bones replied.

Chris’s response reverberated across my mind.
These people get stranger by the minute.
“Great,” was what he said out loud. “Then in a few weeks, you’ll have—”

“Two,” Bones interrupted with a pleasant smile. The screech of protest in Chris’s head was silenced when Bones added, “Unless you’re not interested in a thirty percent bonus for each of you?”

Money might not be his primary motivator in being here, but Chris was interested in that bonus, and so were his crew. Over half of them were back at their headquarters examining the data from the sanitarium, but the four Chris felt were the most experienced were here. Lexie, Fred, Graham, and Nancy nudged each other, mentally and verbally running down different ways they could improve their efficiency.

“I think we could manage that,” Chris replied after a quick huddle with them.

“Splendid. You doubtless guessed that this work is strictly confidential, but here’s your reminder. No photos, video, or maps of the cave, and no mention of this to any of your mates.” The barest flash of green glinted in Bones’s eyes. “In fact, you are never to speak of this job to anyone once you’re finished. Understood?”

A subdued chorus of affirmatives followed. I had no doubt that in addition to mesmerizing this promise out of them, Bones would also manage to erase the records of our transactions with N.I.P.D. once they were finished. They’d all probably end up thinking they won their money due to office quick-pick lotto tickets or something.

For once, I didn’t think Bones was going overboard. This cave had been used as an ambush against me in the past when some vampires found out about it. I’d killed them, so the cave’s significance—and location—had slid back into obscurity. Now we were forced to reveal it to Chris’s team because it was made of limestone and had an underground river; two out of the four requirements for a ghost trap. Throw in the quartz and moissanite Bones was having delivered via trusted vampire courier, and we had all the necessary ingredients. Just any old cave wouldn’t do. We had to make sure the place that would—hopefully—serve as Kramer’s eternal prison was private and secure. Couldn’t stick a homicidal ghost in a cave where innocent spelunkers could free Kramer if they knocked over the wrong rock.

“Right, then.” Bones cracked his knuckles. “Let’s look for a section that will work best for the trap. Can’t have you wandering through here without us. You’d get lost.”

And with the cave’s dampness and internal temperature being a brisk fifty degrees, anyone lost would soon develop hypothermia. Since they’d be working here for two weeks, we’d have to bring in space heaters for the crew. Those had done the trick for me when I was half-human and spent many nights here with Bones.

“Are you sure you can see all right without a light?” Chris asked, doubt clear in his tone.

I had to bite my lip to stuff back my laugh. Bones’s teeth shone in pearly brilliance as he flashed Chris a grin.

“Quite sure.”

I
lifted my leg out of the hot, soapy water, giving my foot a critical evaluation. After a nice soak in the tub, no more hints of dirt underneath my toenails, good. Helping the crew set up the trap in a shallow part of the underground river so it would be surrounded on all sides with running water meant that my feet had spent hours in finely ground silt during the past week. Bones did the heavy lifting—literally—with hauling the rocky debris in and out to make a solid platform for the trap. Chris and the other members of N.I.P.D. no longer questioned why I could stand in icy water for hours without showing any ill effects, or why Bones could pull large boulders off their perches with nary a busted hernia to show for it. A few flashes of green from our gaze took care of their curiosity on those issues.

With Bones and me helping the group lay the foundations of the trap, which was the hardest part, Chris said we were ahead of schedule. That was music to my ears. The sooner things were finished here, the sooner we could test the trap to see if it worked. Already Fabian had mentioned that the new, large quantities of quartz and moissanite made going in and out of the cave feel like traveling through a thick spider’s web, and they weren’t even positioned yet. Chris must know what he was talking about.

Bones appeared in the bathroom doorway, letting his gaze slide over me twice before he spoke. I had the shower curtain open, so his view was uninterrupted.

“Going out for a bit, luv.”

I didn’t ask what for. Bones might double as my all-you-can-eat buffet, but my blood didn’t have enough life in it to sustain him. Only human blood did, and he didn’t want to weaken any of N.I.P.D.’s crew by feeding off them.

Plus, that would strike me as, well, rude.

“See you when you get back,” I said, lifting my leg all the way out just to enjoy the heady change in his scent as I soaped it, caressing my skin a little more than necessary.

“Tease,” he murmured, voice huskier than it had been moments ago.

I learned from the best,
I thought, but blinked like I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Didn’t you say you were leaving?”

Green began to replace the mahogany in his gaze, his scent richening even further. Almost idly, he stroked his collar, pale fingers flicking between the fabric and the luscious curve of his neck.

Shivers broke out across my skin even though I was several degrees warmer than normal from being submerged in the tub. The line where his neck met his broad shoulders was my second-favorite place to bite him. Bones shifted to lean against the frame, as if he were positioning himself more comfortably, but what it did was send ripples along his muscles that even the dark pullover he wore couldn’t hide. One leg casually crossing over the other drew my attention down his body, noting how the fabric briefly clung to a rock-hard thigh before loosening and concealing the defined shape beneath.

Need flared in me, causing my nipples to harden and strands of exquisite sensation to tighten in my loins. And all of this was before I noticed that his hips were slightly tilted, allowing for a better view of the growing bulge in the front of his pants.

“Tell me, Kitten.” That deep, smooth voice brushed over me like a physical caress. “Shall I leave now, or wait until later?”

His eyes glowed pure emerald, half smile letting me know how much he enjoyed this game. I did, too. If I admitted that I couldn’t wait for him to feed, he’d join me in the tub, but then would draw out the foreplay until I begged him to take me. And he would, chuckling at my impatience while possessing me with hard, slow strokes. At that thought, more nerve endings tightened in silent demand.

But if I told him to feed first, his own lust would build while he was forced to wait and seek out a nice vein to secretly suck on. By the time he came back, he’d be almost ruthless in his passion—and Bones in a primal state was truly something to experience.

At that thought, heat swept through my body like the water had suddenly turned into flames. I licked my lips and cleared my throat, but my voice still came out as a gravelly purr.

“Go now.”
So all that lovely lust can build until it rips away your control.

Bolts of power unleashed from his aura, filling the air to land on my skin like velvet-lined whips. His mouth opened, fangs dragging across his lower lip until they drew glittering drops of blood. My gaze latched there, and it was all I could do to keep from charging out of the tub to catch those drops before they rolled off his lip.

“Are you sure?”

Merciless
tease! Drinking Bones’s blood while he was inside me was the most incredible thing ever—and he knew it. A creaking noise warned me that I gripped the edge of the tub so hard, it was about to shatter under my hand.

“Go.” No purr, all growl now. Bones wouldn’t be the only one burning with unrequited desire until he got back.

I vowed erotic retribution for the knowing smile he gave me before he disappeared from the doorframe. A soft click was our hotel room door shutting behind him moments later. I leaned back, blowing out a sigh of sheer willpower. I would not call out for him to come back even though I knew he’d be lingering close by to see if I did. I’d show him that I could tease him with the same sensual resolve that he’d so often shown me.

And my reward for patience now would be a lover who was single-minded in his domination of my body later. More tremors of anticipation rippled through me. I smoothed my hands over my nipples and down my thighs, tempted to reach lower and release a little of that simmering tension before he got back, but decided not to. Some things were worth the wait, and Bones was definitely one of those things.

I’d drained the tub and was busy rinsing conditioner from my hair when my cat let out an extended yowl that was loud enough to be heard over the shower. In the next room, Dexter barked sharply, ending on a piercing whine. I tensed. Helsing might be temperamental for no reason, but I’d only heard the dog bark that way when—

Something slammed against the back of my head with enough force to send my face crashing into the wall in front of me. I spun around, blinking to get the tiny tile shards out of my eyes thanks to the new head-sized hole in the wall, but even though I couldn’t see, I knew who’d attacked me.
Kramer.
How had the ghost managed to sneak up on me without any of my inner warning bells going off?

“
Hexe,
” the heavily accented voice of the Inquisitor hissed.

I ripped the iron shower rod off the wall, whipping it like a sword toward the source of that voice before realizing the futility in the gesture.

“Oh, if you had flesh, I’d beat the
ass
off you!” I swore, throwing the rod aside.

My vision cleared enough for me to see the tunic-clad figure about six feet away. The exposed cistern and chunks of ruined ceramic at my feet showed that Kramer had used the toilet tank lid to bash the back of my head. Fucker had slid that off quiet as a mouse, hadn’t he? I braced to dodge whatever other bathroom items he might try to bludgeon me with next, but after a disgusted moment, I saw that Kramer’s attention was focused on the apex of my wide-legged fighter’s stance.

A towel was within reach, but I fought my urge to snatch it up because one, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acting ashamed, and two, my cold-blooded practicality recognized that distraction was a weapon.

Luckily, it wasn’t the only weapon I had.

I shoved my hand into the hole my face had formed in the wall, bloodying it on the ragged tile edges. “Sic him and don’t let him leave,” I snarled, willing forth the Remnants with all the energy I had.

Kramer’s eyes widened right before he rapidly began to fade. But aside from the cool blast of air I felt, covering my skin with gooseflesh from head to toe, nothing else happened.

“I said, sic him!” I repeated, slicing my hand so hard that the tile crumpled beneath my force.

Nothing. The only thing filling the room was my growing alarm. What was the problem? I had blood running down my fingers, my skin felt as though it crawled with icy ants, and I wanted the Remnants here like damn, but my fiendishly lethal, wrath-of-the-grave buddies were nowhere to be seen.

Kramer must have heard or sensed that I wasn’t able to summon help, because he rematerialized into such clarity that I could see the white stubble on his chin and the different places where his tunic was rent from age. But despite cutting my hand repeatedly and concentrating hard enough to make my jaw grind, he was still the only apparition in the bathroom.