Spirit and Dust (38 page)

“Uh-huh.”

We walked for a few steps, and he said, “You look great in that suit.”

“I hate it. It looks like something a sexy TV lawyer would wear.”

“Which is probably why I like it.”

I turned to him, skipping to the entrée in this three-course dinner of awkward. “This is crazy. Why are we talking about my clothes? Why are we here at all? Do we have anything to talk about with no mummies rising or dinosaurs stepping on us? With no one trying to hijack or kill us—?”

I clapped my hand over my mouth, because that was tactless, even for me. His father was going to jail for a very long time, and his half sister was dead, which deserved respect even
if she was a homicidal nut job. Not that I would put it that way to Carson.

“We’re talking,” he said, in that composed voice he used when he wasn’t feeling very composed at all, “because I want to see you.” He cleared his throat. “Like, socially.”

I folded my arms. “How is that going to work, Chicago and Texas? Do you have some frequent-flier miles to burn through?”

“Well, you’re off from school for the winter break, right? Do you have a passport? The Cayman Islands …”

“Oh. My. God. Just … no.” I started walking again, at a good clip, thanks to my long legs and a tailwind. The Windy City for sure. “I’m not going to the freaking Cayman Islands with you. Why would you even want to?”

He caught my elbow and drew me to a stop. “Because I want to
find out
if we have anything to talk about when not …” He tightened his jaw, then went on. “When not all those things you said.”

I folded my arms and studied him. There was no doubt he was sincere. “Why?”

“Because I like you. I like the way we fit.”

“Carson, you raised the dead. And that was before you were possessed.”

“Only once. And you put them back down again. It sounds like we’re a great team.”

“That’s why you want to see me? Because we’d make a good crime-fighting team? I already
have
that.”

He gave me a look. A
we’re-standing-on-a-busy-sidewalk-and-people-are-taking-our-picture-but-if-we-weren’t-I-would-let-you-know-exactly-why-what-you-just-said-is-stupid look.

And suddenly Chicago didn’t seem so cold after all.

“Okay,” I said. “This is how it’s going to be. If you want to see me, you come down to Texas for the holidays. You spend them on the Goodnight farm with all my family, which contains several very intimidating chaperones.
Much
better chaperones than your aunt.”

He blinked. And maybe paled a little. “All your family? Can’t we just go on a date? I promise not to pick you up in a Corvette.”

“You can pick me up in a not-a-Corvette on the twenty-third. But the next two days …” I chewed my lip for a second, analyzing this impulse. “You need to see how a real family works, Carson.”

He thought about it until my nose started to run in the cold. “That sounds a lot like taking my medicine.”

“Dude!” I threw my hands in the air. “Do you want to get to know me, or do you just want a holiday hookup?”

“Why is this an either- or question?”

I made a disgusted sound and started walking again. Carson caught my arm before I’d gone more than two steps. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just … you’ve got a
lot
of family. Can’t I start small? With a cousin or something?”

I thought about it, not for as long as he did. Because I was freezing. “My cousin is in that coffee shop. Let’s start with her.”

After only a microscopic hesitation, he slid his hand down to link with mine. “Do I have to bring presents for
all
your family?”

“They’re not going to approve of you if you’re cheap.”

“Then I’ll have to come to Texas early so you can help me shop.”

“You can mail-order. I’d rather raise another dinosaur than go to the mall at Christmas.”

We walked along, hand in hand, like the normal couple we were not, and never would be, because we weren’t normal. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket with a text from Taylor.

What do you hear?

I thought about it. I liked not normal. Maybe I could handle being a not-normal couple.

I slipped off my glove and texted my answer with one hand while Carson and I bantered, and he held the other.

Nothing but the rain
.

I don’t usually like to use specific places in my books because (a) it constrains me to what’s actually there and (b) I tend to destroy them. But I made an exception for this book, mostly because of Sue. And how could I not use places so full of real, cool stuff?

Things that are real: the Oriental Institute, its pharaoh statue and reading room; the Field Museum with its twenty-three mummies, Great Hall, and three man-eating lions; the St. Louis Art Museum and the
Little Dancer
Degas bronze and room of Egyptian art.

And of course, Sue the T. rex is real. I couldn’t make that up. You can even follow her on Twitter
@SUEtheTrex
.

Things that are not real: pretty much everything else. I tried to keep to the true layouts and geography, but the St. Louis museum in particular got a rearrange (and has no Pompeii art or exhibit).

I love museums, and the Field Museum is awesome. You can actually watch the lab geeks work in the DNA and fossil labs. Sorry I made such a mess of the place, guys.

I must thank, as always, my marvelous agent, Lucienne Diver, of the Knight Agency, and my editor, Krista Marino. This book went through a lot, because I went through a lot while I was writing it. They were both patient, but not so patient they didn’t push me to my best writing. Thanks also to all the staff at Random House.

Love and appreciation to the IHOP Musketeers, aka the Ninja Turtles, for listening, laughing, and butt-kicking as necessary. To Jenny Martin, Carson’s biggest fan, and my favorite writing buddy. To Kate Cornell, for asking me just the right questions to help me sort out the rough spots. To Cheryl Smyth, my magical sounding board. Yes, C, we need to work on that Goodnight family tree.

As always, love and gratitude for the support of my family and friends. It’s been a crazier ride than normal, and I couldn’t have made it without you.

And finally, to my readers, and to the bloggers, teachers, and librarians, just for being awesome.