Chapter 20

Hours later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a thump on the glass informed me Badb had found my new room. She was persistent, but the window didn't open. I couldn't let her in, and I didn't speak crow.

Seconds later, a knock on the door shot Carter to her feet, and she crept toward the peephole.

Her cartoon character pajamas weren't intimidating, but the wicked dagger in her hand made up for it.

Before I could call out, she did, guaranteeing I didn't lead the dybbuk straight to me if this was a fishing expedition. The old room had been in my name. This one was held under an alias. For the first time, I questioned if that was why we hadn't moved far. So they could monitor that room too. "Who is it?"

"Kierce." The wood muffled his voice. "May I come in?"

Shoving my arms into the sleeves of my cardigan, I dragged it on and adjusted the dress as I stood.

The quick dart of her eyes asked if I wanted to see him, and the quick thump of my heart said, "Yes."

Blade in hand, she opened the door, making sure he saw she was armed. "Hello again."

"Hello." His gaze flicked down my legs, but he didn't try complimenting them again. "Frankie."

"Hey." I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me. "Now I see what Badb was trying to tell me." I shot the crow a thumbs-up, and she took flight. "How can I help you?"

Smooth. Real smooth. Like silk.

That someone set on fire, threw sand on to put out, then dumped it all down a garbage disposal.

"Habit from work." I flushed until my cheeks burned. "I'm used to greeting customers and…"

"I understand." He entered the room, examined it, and dismissed it. "Words can be…difficult."

"This is painful to witness." Carter shut the door behind him. "I'll just go watch my show."

For a bloodthirsty creature of myth, she enjoyed cartoons more than anyone I had ever met.

Once Carter had settled in, Kierce got to the point. "If you're feeling up to it, I would appreciate your help."

The faint hope he had come to see me crashed and burned in the time it took me to smile. "Sure."

"You mentioned the spirits warned you when the dybbuk was near."

The sleeves of my sweater fell over my hands, and I balled the material in my fists. "Yes."

"The dead don't speak to me as freely as they converse with you." His chin dipped almost to his chest, and he tucked his hands in his pockets. "Would you mind attending a few cemeteries with me?"

"I can do that." I slanted Carter a wary glance. "Fair warning, the spirits at Bonaventure talk to me because they know me. I visit other cemeteries, sometimes, but I'm not as well-known to those spirits."

"I also hoped you would consider joining me for a picnic." His hair slid forward, into his eyes. "I enjoyed our last one, at Bonaventure, and I wanted to try again."

A thrill shot through me I tried to hide to avoid Carter staring me down for it, but I'm not sure I managed to conceal the spark of giddiness from his offer. The chance to spend time with someone like me, even if only to a small degree since I was definitely not divine, was a temptation I couldn't refuse.

"I would like that." I tucked my hair behind my ears. "Let me freshen up, and I'll meet you in the lobby."

"Oh." He reached into his pocket. "Badb gave me this for you."

"I've always heard crows bring gifts to their friends."

He dropped a small gold-toned pin into my hand. The enamel design tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn't put my finger on where I had seen it. A lodge maybe? The pointed shaft on the back was bent, but that was easily fixed if I ever decided to wear it.

"She must have wanted to impress you." He held up a silver foil gum wrapper. "This was all I got."

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I held the pin to my chest. "Can you thank her for me?"

"You can tell her yourself." He headed to the door. "She'll be coming with us."

"Oh." I should have thought of that. "Okay." I flashed a smile. "I'll make this quick."

"Take your time." He lingered on the threshold. "You're worth waiting for."

Only after the door closed behind him did Carter wonder, "Do you think he heard that line in a movie?"

The humor in her tone prodded me to defend him. "He's not that bad."

"He's pretty to look at, I'll give him that, but he's got the social graces of a piranha in a bowl of goldfish."

"He doesn't get out much." I dug through the pile of mismatched clothes from Matty, determined to find an outfit that covered more leg, but pickings were slim. "He's trying."

"I can tell." She popped a cheddar puff in her mouth. "It's kind of cute."

"Hey." I noticed a bag of cheddar puffs had fallen almost under the sofa and tossed it onto Carter's bed. "You lost one."

"Not my usual brand." She reached down, frowned at the package, then set it aside. "Daisy must have bought it with the drinks at the gas station last night."

They might have been a bribe, a thanks, or even an emergency stash in case she felt stabby overnight.

"People like us, with death affinities, can have trouble locating like-minded partners." I couldn't find the start of an outfit, let alone a whole look. "We also spook guys when they realize we can talk to ghosts."

"We sounds a lot like you."

"I don't have great luck with dating. The last guy who wanted my number asked me to pick him up at his place before heading to dinner. He met me at the curb and asked for the keys. I pushed back, he got ugly about it, and he finally admitted he just wanted to drive the car. He said his granddad had one, and mine had made him nostalgic."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." I located a pair of high-waisted leggings Josie wore for yoga and a matching crop top that would fit more like a sports bra on me. I wasn't looking forward to the pinch of wearing bottoms too small for me, but I had to be practical. "That's why I leave dating to Josie and Matty. They have better luck."

"Have you ever considered it's not luck? Just the law of averages?"

The stretch material was forgiving, for which I was grateful as I dressed quickly. "What do you mean?"

"Your sister dates a lot. She doesn't tie herself down to one person. You make it sound like your brother is the same way. Casual. Likes to keep a full social calendar." She crunched another puff. "People always putting themselves out there can strike out a dozen times a night without their ego taking a dent. I don't mean that's what your siblings are doing, picking up randos every night, but they're out there. You're not, as far as I can tell. That means you feel the sting of rejections that slide off their backs from practice."

"Don't you think I've tried it their way?" I cringed to recall how many times. "I've gone clubbing or hit bars or attended the odd concert here or there. I've met guys, gone home with them, and woken up to an empty bed once or twice. It's not for me. I want more than the smell of alcohol and hands groping in the dark."

Another thoughtful crunch, and she wiped her fingers clean on her sheet. "Do you think Kierce is more?"

Momentarily distracted by the overwhelming urge to wet a washcloth for her, I had to haul my attention back to her question. "No."

"He mentioned the picnic thing. I thought this was a second date."

A date meant a night out with no agenda except to spend time together, and this wasn't that.

"I'm not sure what it is, but it's better than sitting around and twiddling my thumbs."

Carter took her time reaching for her bottle of water. "Do you think Harrow could ever be more?"

"No." I cleared my throat. "I'm good with leaving our past in the past where it belongs."

"The same past that resulted in a grown man having a temper tantrum last night?"

"Yes." I pulled my cardigan back on to conceal my unintentionally sporty top. "He's a good guy." I found my purse and slung it over my shoulder, checking to make sure it contained a mini kit with all the items I would require if we found trouble in the cemeteries. "I hope he figures out who he is and what he needs to make peace with himself and his heritage. Without that, he'll never find someone to love who can love him back."

"Just be careful with Kierce." She reached for a new bag. "Any guy who can magically appear can magically disappear too."

Whether she meant it to or not, the advice cut deep, and I had trouble shaking off the sting.

Better for me if I viewed the last week as an experience rather than anything more. That way, it would hurt less when it was over.

HadI not been surprised by his offer of a picnic dinner, I would have asked Kierce about transportation. Under normal circumstances I would drive us, but that option was off the table. We could call a Swyft, but it required switching drivers at every stop. Besides the fact we didn't need witnesses to our breaking and entering. Not all cemeteries closed at dusk, but plenty of the historic ones kept posted hours. Even if they weren't strictly enforced.

Much to my surprise, Kierce waited in front of the elevator for me when the doors rolled open. "Hi."

"No dress?"

"I figured I would spare you from the paleness of my legs." I shut my eyes, wishing I could rewind time. "I just mean I'm more comfortable in pants. Besides, it makes more sense to wear them on this kind of trip."

When he held out his hand for mine, I hesitated before sliding my palm across his.

"We don't have to hold hands." It felt important to tell him, to explain in case he had misread social cues and thought it was expected of him after that first time. "It's not what people who are just friends do."

A stillness swept over him, and he canted his head. "Do you hold hands with Harrow?"

The word blasted out like a snort. "No."

"Good." He meshed his fingers with mine. "I don't hold hands with anyone else either."

"Good." I found myself echoing his sentiment, which was a horrible idea. "That's good."

"I hope you don't mind, but this is the only mode of transportation I'm qualified to drive."

Happy for the weight of his hand in mine, I didn't notice what he meant at first.

And then I couldn't believe it.

"A carriage?" I laughed with delight. "You booked a horse and carriage?"

Thunderbolt was too remote for touristy carriage rides, but they were popular in downtown Savannah.

You couldn't toss a penny in the historic district without hitting a coachman wearing a top hat.

"Let me help you in." He opened the half door and folded down the step. "There are pillows to sit on."

The pillows were still in plastic bags from the store, clearly bought for this purpose. As jarring as carriage rides could be, I was grateful for his forethought. I let him help me in, putting as little weight on his hand as possible, which was ridiculous. He could look at me and tell I weighed more than a brush of a freaking butterfly's wing. Even Josie weighed something.

After gaining my balance, and readjusting my self-esteem, I arranged the pillows across the front-facing seat, covered them with a folded blanket I found under the bench, and made myself a nest. As I sat, I bumped a basket I assumed held our promised picnic with my foot.

"Ready?" Kierce slid a black whip from its rest. "I'm a tad rusty, but I'm sure it will come back to me."

"More than ready." I couldn't curb my grin. "I've never gone on a carriage ride."

Nimble, he climbed into the driver's seat, a bench with an ornate back so low as to be useless.

"Then perhaps the novelty will make amends for my shortcomings." He clicked his tongue, and the horses clopped forward. "The mares are Jelly Bean and Daiquiri."

At the word jelly bean, I couldn't help but think of the apology jelly beans from Harrow.

As quickly as the thought arrived, I sent it packing, determined to enjoy the rare treat of a private tour of local cemeteries. Our mode of transportation limited the distance we could go, but I didn't mind. I was a bit flustered with the seemingly romantic overture, but manage your expectations, right?

Kierce had told me upfront that necessity had dictated his choice. Just because he liked holding my hand and liked that he was the only one doing it, I wasn't going to get my hopes up this was going anywhere. Except to the first cemetery on his list.

Greenwich Cemetery.

As best as I recalled, Chatham County contained nearly eighty cemeteries. Greenwich was an addition to Bonaventure in 1933, making it one of six cemeteries maintained by the city of Savannah. Its connection to Bonaventure meant I had some rapport with those spirits, so we might get lucky.

"Stay put." He twisted on his seat. "I'll help you down."

Determined to be more realistic with my exit, I gripped the top edge of the door with one hand before I took his. As soon as my weight hit the hinges, the door swung wider, overbalancing me, and I fell into his arms.

Okay.

Fine.

I fell into him. Plowed my face right into his chest. Hands everywhere.

His arms snaked around me, steadying me, and somehow one foot remained on the step.

"Are you all right?" He breathed into my ear, sending gooseflesh down my nape. "How's your hip?"

"It's my pride that's hurt." I had to brace on his shoulders to right myself. "Sorry about the flying tackle." I let him take my hand, and my weight, before I broke something. "I, ah, slipped."

A flicker of concern unspooled across his features, but I started walking before he got out any questions.

"Let's see what we see." I sounded upbeat to my own ears. Good. Maybe he wouldn't notice I was dying of embarrassment on the inside and wishing for a fresh grave I could curl up in. "Is there anywhere in particular you want to start?"

"Wherever you think is best." He kept one step behind me. "Do you know anyone here?"

"Yeah." I hadn't spoken to her in a long time. A visit might be a good way to help him forget my clumsiness. "I can't always find her. She tends to drift between here and Bonaventure." I aimed for her grave. "Are you the reason why everyone is so quiet?"

Here and there, I spied glimmers of power that indicated spirits were watching us, but they kept back.

"They know me for what I am," he said softly. "I frighten them."

Memories of the witness recounting how Kierce had comforted Phelps while he died in the parking lot surfaced, leaving behind a melancholy ache. "You're an escort for the dead. You're not the one who killed them."

"I remind them they're dead, that time marches on with or without them."

"That doesn't make it fair," I grumbled. "You're doing them a service."

"Thank you." His fingers slid into mine from behind. "For understanding."

"Ain't that cute?" A smudge of light drifted from behind a mausoleum. "You got a date with Death."

"Actually," he said dryly, "I'm Death's personal assistant."

Laughter twitched in my shoulders, but Daisy Mae Wainwright burst into guffaws of delight.

"What brings you to my neck of the afterlife?" She solidified into a softly rounded woman dressed in the red sequined gown she died in. The fabric hugged her curves, and a thigh-high split flashed muscular leg as she stalked closer with a sultry roll to her hips. "I haven't seen you in months, sugarplum."

Closer to a year, but spirits didn't have the best grasp on time since it no longer held sway over them.

"We're searching for someone who might have come through here."

"The creep who's been snacking on ghosts?" She circled Kierce, grinning with lush red lips, trailing a long fingernail across his chest and then under his shoulder blades. "He's been here a few times, but I haven't seen him. He picks off the fades and the loners. He leaves the rest of us alone."

Fades were spirits who had, as the name suggested, begun to erode into nothingness. They refused to let go of this existence all in one go and, instead, became less and less until nothing remained of them on this plane.

A spirit that deteriorated might welcome an end to its self-imposed suffering, but not the permanent kind the dybbuk was handing out to the most vulnerable cemetery residents.

"Do you know anyone who's seen him?" I pretended not to notice her squeezing the air an inch from Kierce's butt. "A description could help us locate him before he escalates."

"Who says he will?" She bit her thumbnail. "Maybe he only takes nibbles."

"He has consumed four spirits whole," Kierce told her. "Do you want that end for the lesser spirits? Are you willing to risk he won't get hungrier the longer he remains uncaught?"

"All right." She braced a fist on her hip then stuck her fingers in her mouth to whistle. "Bobo."

A pale figure crawled forward on all fours, his hair an unholy mess, his clothes ragged. "Eh?"

"You saw the guy, right?" Daisy Mae raised her voice. "The one eating folks?"

"What? Oh. Yeah." He sank down onto his belly in the patchy grass. "I seen him."

"Can you describe him for my friends?" She winked at Kierce. "It sure would be a big help."

"Uh. Not too tall. 'Bout your height maybe. His eyes burned like coals. His hair crackled like fire."

"You sure you weren't drinking when you saw him?"

"Ain't no drink. You know that." He chuckled, but it turned into a cough. A habit from life, now a holdover in death. "I seen him, Daisy Mae. He seen me too. Only reason he ain't get me was I'm faster. Now I gotta be careful. Like on those TV cop shows? He might take out any witnesses. I done been out longer than I should've. I gotta go."

Bobo spider crawled behind a tombstone and disappeared from view.

"Poor old thing." Daisy Mae clucked her tongue. "Crawling on his belly ain't gonna do nothing but make him easier to catch." She returned her attention to Kierce. "How about you give me a kiss as payment for my help?"

"A kiss has no value."

"You can touch me, right?" She swept her gaze down him. "You got the look of one who can."

Unused to her brand of teasing, Kierce shifted his weight back and to his left, away from her.

"You'll have to choose another prize." I lifted our joined hands. "This one is taken."

"All the good ones are," she lamented. "Do you need anything else?"

"We appreciate your help." Kierce kept a safe distance. "That's all the information we require."

"Send word through the Suarezes if he comes around again," I told her. "Or if you need anything."

"Come back and see me sometime, handsome." She blew Kierce a kiss off her palm then drifted her attention over to me. "Let me know when it's safe, you hear?"

"I will." I waved goodbye as she dispersed and drifted away on the breeze. "I, um, hope I didn't overstep with the saying-you're-mine thing. Daisy Mae is good people, but she's a horrible flirt, and a maneater."

"I understand." He walked me back to the carriage. "It must be nice, though. Belonging to someone."

"It is until it isn't in my experience." I squeaked when he lifted me in then climbed up behind me. "What are you…?" I would have fought him to get put down, but I didn't want to tip us over the side. "You'll throw your back out."

Without a hitch, he guided me onto the bench. "You don't see yourself clearly."

"I have mirrors at home." I clutched the blanket and fought the urge to climb under it. "I see plenty."

Usually, I wasn't this twitchy about my weight. I didn't mind my curves. But the slow loss of circulation in my waist (even Lycra had its limits) was making me self-conscious by warning me I was one wrong move away from splitting seams.

"A mirror can't show your worth."

We set out for East Savannah Cemetery with my tongue tied and his words ringing in my ears.