Chapter 9

As it happened, I wasn't invited to the new crime scene. Which didn't hurt my feelings one bit.

Carter dropped me at home, and I let myself into the office to relieve Josie. Except she wasn't there.

Eyeing the nearest African violet, the Watermelon Snow, I took a chance and leaned down. "Josie?"

When nothing happened, I felt like ten kinds of fool and vowed to never mention this to either of my siblings. Josie must have been pulling our legs with the chatty comment. I pushed into the garage, located Paco, and made enough noise to guarantee he heard me coming.

Hands on my hips, I tapped his boot with my sneaker. "Where's the brat?"

"Business is slow, so she went to water her tomatoes maybe ten minutes ago," he said from under a van. "Can you hand me the torque wrench?" The tips of his fingers appeared as he stuck out his hand. "I left it on the bench."

"Here you go." I passed it to him. "Do you want to play chess tomorrow?"

Sundays and Mondays we closed the shop to give us all a break. Josie gardened, Matty broke hearts, and I hung out in the cemetery. Which, yeah, didn't sound exciting, but the gossip was juicer than watching a soap opera. Just last week, the Francoeur—an old money family—heiress fell in love with a kindergarten teacher. From the way her relatives moaned over his lack of breeding, you would think they were talking about Westminster Dog Show contestants and not people.

Forget bartenders. People spoke to the dead. They sat on the grass or knelt on the dirt and unburdened their souls as much for themselves as for their dearly departed.

"We're on lockdown from extracurriculars until the danger passes." He grunted with effort. "Maybe next week."

"Oh." That fast, I had forgotten the elders' mandate. "Right."

The Suarezes got a pass from the elders on most things, including working for us, based on my willingness to aid the dead. I listened, I passed messages, I landscaped. I helped them, so they helped me. But it was one thing for them to leave and go to work. It was another if they chilled with me on the lawn while the others were confined to their graves. That wouldn't win them or me any brownie points.

"You sound distracted." The noise quit for a beat too long. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's been another murder." I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking it over. "Or something like it."

"Something like it?" He resumed his tink, tink, tinking. "What do you mean?"

"Honestly, I don't know." I laughed softly. "I'm getting everything twisted up in my head."

"I'm almost done here." His shoes squeaked on the floor. "How about we close up early?"

One of the benefits of being our own bosses? We could do that. Call it quits when business was a trickle.

"That sounds great." I would love to watch a movie with Matty tonight. "Let me check with Josie."

Ducking out of the open bay, I circled around the building to find her singing to her tomatoes. "Hey."

"Hey back." She patted the plant on the head then straightened. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Just walked through the door." I shifted to get upwind of the three-bin compost station. "Any word from Mrs. Minchin?"

"No." She flicked her wrist. "She probably decided to make a weekend out of it."

"Yeah." I swatted a sand gnat on my throat. "Maybe."

Mrs. Minchin's visits were a treat worthy of celebration, yes, but they were also weekly occurrences.

"What gives?" She wiped sweat from her eyes. "You don't sound convinced."

Comparisons between Mrs. Minchin and Ormewood kept circling in my head.

"Tomorrow is Sunday. She knows we're closed Sundays and Mondays."

"She's also—to borrow from you—a good client."

"You think she expects special treatment?"

"I think if she starts organizing her pantry again, we might not see her for a week."

A laugh made a valiant attempt to escape, but it didn't make it past my lips. "True."

"Give me your phone." She curled her fingers until I complied. "We'll check on her real quick." A few swipes of her finger, and she had the loaner tracking app open. "She's still at home." She flashed me the screen. "Safe and sound and probably trying to force-feed her poor husband one of her cobblers."

Accepting my phone back, I stared at the blinking dot. "She did have a packed house last night."

"See?" She tweaked my chin. "There you go."

A quicksilver flash of a smile was the best I could offer her with so much competing for my attention.

As if she had plucked the worries straight out of my head, Josie asked, "How did the trip go?"

"Ormewood gave me a false address. Add that to the false phone number, and I'm in this up to my neck."

Harrow must think I was totally incompetent to screw up this badly. He was probably regretting our deal right about now and wondering how to get out of it. A vampire was dead. Only a sentimental fool would stand between me and the Society after they learned an unpedigreed necromancer had a hand in killing one of their paying clients.

"I was sitting next to you when you spoke to Mrs. Covolo." She scoffed. "I was repotting your violets."

Hoping that wasn't a joke at my expense, since she couldn't know I tried using her violet as a walkie-talkie unless it had worked after all, I froze when the wider implications hit me.

"I forgot about that." A flicker of hope sparked in my chest. "Be ready to swear to it if Harrow asks you."

"Oh." Her eyes brightened. "I forgot to ask—" She straightened. "Did you get Carter's number for me?"

"I made the request, but she says she doesn't do relationships."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" She stuck her tongue between her teeth. "She's so…"

"…unavailable."

"Just because I shot down your crush on the psycho killer, you're stomping on my hopes with Carter."

"Pretty much." I winked at her. "It's the sisterly thing to do."

"Mmm-hmm." She tossed a mushy tomato at me I dodged with a yelp. "What did you want?"

"Am I not allowed to visit my sister without an agenda?"

"You looked like a woman on a mission when you rounded the corner." She refreshed her ponytail to keep it out of her eyes. "What's up?"

"Paco suggested we close up shop early." As I said it, I smacked my forehead. "He probably wants to be in his grave at dusk. I didn't think of that." We closed at nine to garner business from the paranormal crowd, which meant I always took the Suarezes home after dark. "We might have to tweak the schedule if that's the case."

"The spirits are that worried about this Kierce guy?"

"Yeah." I deflated on the spot. "I should have known anyone that pretty, that odd, and that interested in cemeteries—and me—was too good to be true."

"Yes, Frankie, because every man interested in you has an agenda."

"They sure seem to," I grumbled, thinking of Kierce and Harrow. "Anyway, I'm leaving now to drop Paco off at home. Then Matty and I will be right back. We haven't had a night in, just us Marys, in a while."

Dusting off her hands, she laughed at me. "It's cute you think you're going alone."

"I don't need a chaperone for a ten-minute trip." I narrowed my eyes on her. "You're just being nosy."

"A guy invites my sister to a romantic dinner on a tomb, and I'm not supposed to be curious?"

"That sounds like a rhetorical question."

"I'll get Paco and lock up the shop." She pinched my cheek on her way past. "Meet you at the wagon."

Just as I thought, I didn't have a choice in the matter.

"This isthe worst movie I've ever seen." Matty threw popcorn at the screen. "Kiss already."

The three of us sprawled on the couch in a pile of pillows and blankets, watching a romcom with scenes that were more cringe than funny. Matty had this L-shaped monstrosity that took up half his apartment. Total waste of space. Unless you were an oneiros who spent much of your life lounging, napping, thinking about napping, or sleeping. And on movie nights, it was an absolute luxury to spread out without hitting Josie's knees or his elbows. As the short one, I always got stuck between them, and being in the middle sucked.

"They can't kiss yet." Josie hit him in the cheek with a kernel. "She just learned like five minutes ago that he works for the conglomerate trying to turn her family's farm into a subdivision. She's still heartbroken. You have to give her a solid ten minutes before she can start eyeballing his abs again. Sheesh."

"Why is his shirt off so much?" I chewed thoughtfully. "It's a nice view, don't get me wrong, but why?"

"Those snowdrifts are clearly CGI." Matty was fixated on them. "They glitch every other scene."

"Are you sure?" Josie leaned forward, eyes narrowed on the hero. "His nipples are awfully hard."

"I enjoy a good nipple as much as the next person," Matty said, "but you have NippleVision."

"He's not wrong." I munched away. "You're weirdly obsessed with them."

And she was an equal opportunity ogler. Men. Women. Josie just loved being in love.

"Oh, please." She hit me with a piece. "Like you've never noticed Harrow's nipples."

"Um, no?" I wrinkled my nose. "I'm aware he has them, but the NippleVision gene skipped me."

A shudder on the edge of my vision brought my attention to the far corner where a radiant purple figure stood with her hands on her generous hips. I jumped up, dumping my popcorn on the floor and startling my siblings.

"Vi?" I rushed over with a grin. "I expected a call or a text."

A patterned scarf wrapped her short black hair, and she wore a bogolan maxi dress that brushed the tips of her toes where they peeked out from her strappy sandals. A pair of glasses in an oversized cat eye design hung from a chain around her neck. She had lost four pairs in the time I had known her before I invested in the chain for her.

"Trust me, girl." Her low voice reverberated through the room. "This warrants a drop-in."

Twisting around, Matty and Josie waved, though all they saw was me talking to an empty corner.

Since they couldn't hear her either, they went back to picking the movie apart without me.

"Let's go to my place." I led the way since I was the only one who had to worry about doors. "We can talk there."

"I tried there first," she grumbled. "Do you know how hard it is to travel like this?"

"No." I ruffled Matty's hair and tweaked Josie's nose on my way out. "I can't say that I do."

"Tuck in your bottom lip. Astral projection is too dangerous for you, cher."

Someone as immersed in the culture of the dead as I was could get…lost…if they left their body. I had two excellent anchors in my siblings, reasons to come back, I mean, but it was still a risk Vi didn't want me to take without knowing more about the origins of my talents.

Especially not after what happened at St. Mary's the night my siblings and I fled to save ourselves.

After a short jog down the stairs, I let myself into my apartment with a happy sigh.

As much as I loved my sibs, and for all that a single floor separated each of us, it was good to be home.

"Still no proper furniture?" She eyed the open space with a frown. "If the mattress on your bed inflates, you and I are going to have words. It's been four years. You haven't done a thing with the place."

The sad truth was, I wasn't sure how to do more with it. Somewhere along the way protecting my family had become my entire personality. But, as much as I loved Matty and Josie, I spent every day with them. I didn't want walls of photos of them waiting for me whenever I walked through the door too.

"If you must know, the mattress is memory foam. Very fancy. I practically needed a second mortgage to afford it. And I have a headboard now." I indicated my one true piece of furniture, the wide oak panel carved from a lightning-struck local live oak. "Isn't it cute?"

Drifting closer to inspect the design, Vi dropped her face into her hands. "It's a tombstone."

"I thought it was funny." I sat on the bed and traced the carved words. "Here lies Mary Frances Talbot." I read out loud. "Pardon me for not rising." I caught her flat look and felt properly scolded. "Well, I like it."

Yet another reason I was hesitant to furnish the place without professional help. No one appreciated my macabre taste.

"The dead can't be your entire life." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Neither can your family. You've got to live for yourself, cher." She dropped her arm. "Get a hobby. Get a boyfriend. Get a pet."

"The last time you got on this kick, I tried knitting, and you know how that ended."

"You wore that eye patch for a month." She tried hard not to laugh. "You looked like a damn pirate."

"Knitting needles are dangerous." I folded my arms over my chest. "They should come with a warning."

"Most people have enough sense not to jab themselves in the eye with pointy objects." She exhaled one slow breath to keep her calm enough to remain present. "I don't have long. We'll have to rehash this old fight later. Maybe then you'll finally listen to me about getting a life. Right now, I need to talk about your photos. Describe for me, in exact detail, how you performed the summoning. Leave nothing out."

Closing my eyes, I pictured the morgue and walked her through the entire thing from start to finish.

Hand on her wrist, she clacked her wooden bangles together. "Do you have anything from the?—?"

"Yes." I jumped up, rushed to the kitchen, and removed a plastic baggy from the ghost-shaped cookie jar Matty bought me last Halloween. At least he tried to encourage my weird. "Ash from the candles."

"Ash from the candles," she murmured, her voice gone thick with sorrow.

Rubbing the granules between my fingers through the plastic, I waited for her to enlighten me until the quiet stretched too long. "What does it mean?"

"You didn't botch the summoning." She wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. "This Ormewood, she had her soul devoured. She's gone from this plane. From all planes. She no longer exists."

Devoured.

There was that word again.

"That's not..." The baggy slipped through my fingers as the magnitude of her words hit me. "How…?"

"There are creatures who feast on spirits as hungrily as vampires who glut on blood." Her attention kept straying to the ash. "There are gods who do this, old ones, but there are monsters who are more likely."

A finger of dread traced the length of my spine. "There's something else you should know."

I told her about Kierce.

Halfway through my account, she was already shaking her head. "Frankie, you know better."

A good quarter hour later, after she finished ranting at me, she sucked in a calming breath. She did that a lot around me.

"Mail half that ash and keep half." A scowl tipped her lips. "You say this loaner of yours killed a man?"

"Slit his throat on River Street in a public parking lot then sat down across from him and…"

…was devoured.

"How much time lapsed before you tried contacting her?"

"Harrow brought me to the body the next day."

"And the victim? From River Street?" She resumed clacking her bangles. "He was a vampire?"

Miracle of miracles, I hadn't been snatched off the street by a sentinel for the crime. "Unfortunately."

"A vampire is a soul anchored to its human shell." Vi went still. "Can you gain access to his body?"

"I can ask Harrow." I sank onto the mattress. "Do you think his spirit is…gone…too?"

"Perform your summoning. If you achieve the same results with your ritual, then yes. He is gone."

Lost in thought, I kept my eyes on the neat pleats I was forming in my sheet with my fingers.

"You're upset. About more than the loaner." She dropped her arms to her sides. "You liked this Kierce."

"Or I liked that he seemed to like me." I smoothed the sheet flat. "But it doesn't look good for him."

"The timing works against him, for sure. He first approached you after Ormewood was devoured, and you said yourself the spirits warned he would do the same to you. Whether that's possible or not, I can't say. Not until we know more."

Swinging my leg off my bed, I scuffed my shoe on the floor. "I have to tell Harrow about him, don't I?"

"Hmm." Thick gold earrings clinked as she tipped her head to one side. "What about Kierce earned him this loyalty?"

"It's not…" I hunched my shoulders up around my ears. "His presence is weirdly soothing."

"Soothing like you can be?" Her gaze sharpened. "Others find you as peaceful as the grave."

An absurd urge to laugh bubbled up my throat then died. "Are you saying we're the same?"

"No." A gentle smile warmed her features. "You are unique."

"I had to come from somewhere." I wasn't interested in learning about parents who had given me up, but it would be an answer to a lifetime of wondering to discover what I was, how I fit in the world. "Maybe he knows."

"Maybe he does, and maybe he tells you." Her tone went sharp. "Or maybe he doesn't, and maybe he kills you."

"I'll tell Harrow." I raised my hands in surrender. "He can ask the questions." A flicker in her image dragged me to me feet. "Everything okay?"

"My grandson is anchoring. He's muttering something about a guest."

Her grandson was thirty and following in her footsteps. He and I were polite, but he resented the years she had prioritized me. I came to her unknown, untested, untrained. Rollo, however, was a generational summoner. He'd had a firm handle on his gift when I showed up, he was already well educated in spirits, thanks to his upbringing, and Vi determined he could afford to wait a measly twenty-four months to be her secondary apprentice. That was what got to him. He hated being second to anyone in her eyes.

Even he wouldn't interfere with her transmission based on his dislike of me alone, out of respect for her. Whatever his need, it was genuine. "Do you have any ideas I could pass on to Harrow about the killer?"

"None yet." She stopped short of saying anything more, just shaking her head as if the thought had been a silly one. "I don't want to point fingers and cause more trouble within the community."

"All right." I crossed to where she stood, taking comfort from the remembered smell of her perfume, a mix of camelias, spices, and fresh earth. "I would hug you but…"

"And I would hug you back but…" Her hand passed right through me. "You'll visit soon?"

"I promise." I watched her end the sending with a sad smile. "If I'm not flung into prison before then."