One Grave at a Time

belong instead of just having some unusual friends or visitors.

“Does that mean Dexter has to pee?” I muttered, as the dog’s whine grew into a loud bark.

“No.” Tyler’s voice was tighter than before. “Animals can sense the supernatural better than most people. It means someone’s coming.”

Right after the words left his mouth, I felt the shift in the air, like a freezer door had abruptly blown open. Icy needles ran along my skin, prickling me with power that wasn’t of this world. Someone wasn’t coming—he or she was here.

The planchette spun around the board the same time as a hazy figure materialized behind Tyler. He shivered.

“I think someone’s here now,” Tyler whispered. Then louder, “Who is with us? Tell us your name.”

“Beth Ann,” the cloudy figure replied while the planchette raced to land over the letter “B,” then “E.”

“Someone’s definitely here,” Tyler said under his breath as “T” was the next letter highlighted.

“She’s right behind you,” Bones replied.

Tyler jerked around in his seat, his face level with the midsection of the ghost. From her high-necked garb and long, wide skirt, she wasn’t a newbie. That style had gone out well over a century ago.

“I don’t see anyone yet,” he mused.

“Really?” I asked in surprise. The ghost had manifested fully, even revealing slight pockmarks on her cheeks along with salt-and-pepper hair.

“It takes mortals longer to see us, even the gifted ones,” Beth Ann replied, looking back and forth between me and Bones. “Not so with those of your ilk.”

Her disdain for vampires came through crystal clear, too. Most ghosts who were drawn to me because of my borrowed power seemed not to mind the fact that I was a vampire, but this one obviously did.

“Hey, sorry if we bothered you, but there’s no need to be snippy.”

“Did she tell you her name?” Tyler asked low.

“Yeah. It’s Beth Ann, and she’s a little grumpy.”

Tyler leaned forward as if to see better. It put his face squarely at the apex between Beth Ann’s legs. She jumped back, incensed, even as I struggled to stuff back a laugh. Evidently he still couldn’t see her yet.

“Filthy reprobate!” the ghost spat.

“Beth Ann, give us a sign of your presence,” Tyler said in a commanding way, oblivious to what had just happened.

The ghost slapped his face, her hand passing right through. Tyler frowned.

“I felt a cold breeze just then. Did she do something?”

“She gave a sign of her presence,” Bones replied, his lips twitching.

“Normally it takes longer for one to appear and interact with us,” Tyler said, sounding bemused. His gaze slid to me. “You must be the wild card.”

If he only knew. “Okay, well, now what?”

Tyler replied, but it was drowned out by Beth Ann’s loud, indignant response. “If you presume I will do anything for a group of disgusting ruffians such as yourselves—”

“Shh,” I told her, trying to make out what Tyler was saying.

She quieted instantly, her eyes widening in shock. Damn, I’d just taken away her ability to speak. Guess shushing her was the same as giving her an order to be silent.

“—that the door’s open, we can attempt to summon your witch hunter,” Tyler finished.

“So Beth Ann doesn’t need to stay?” I asked, feeling guilty as her mouth opened and closed in a series of futile attempts to talk.

“No. I’ll send her away—”

“You can speak again, and feel free to go back to where you were before,” I told her with an apologetic wave.

The ghost vanished after snarling out a sentence that raised my brows. Well. She’d certainly learned some colorful phrases in her time.

“Prim-looking ladies always were the dirtiest,” Bones commented, chuckling at my expression.

Considering his former occupation, he should know. I shook my head, answering, “Yep” to Tyler’s question if the ghost was gone.

“All right, let’s try for the main event.” Tyler sounded enthused. “Keep touching the planchette, Cat.”

I put my fingertips on the device again, feeling the pulsating throb that came from it. Maybe that was why it was shaped like a heart. Symbolism for what it felt like when it was properly activated.

“What’s the witch hunter’s name again?” Tyler asked.

“Heinrich Kramer.”

“Heinriiich Kraaaaaaaaamer,” Tyler drew out in dramatic fashion. He even lolled his head back and closed his eyes. “We summon you into our presence. Heed our call, Heinrich Kramer. Come to us now. We summon through the veil the spirit of Heinrich Kramer—”

Dexter let out a sharp noise that was part whine, part bark. Tyler quit speaking. I tensed, feeling the grate of invisible icicles across my skin again. Bones’s gaze narrowed at a point over my right shoulder. Slowly, I turned my head in that direction.

All I saw was a swirl of darkness before the Ouija board flew across the room—and the point of the little wooden planchette buried in Tyler’s throat.

Seven

I sprang up and tried to grab Tyler, only to be knocked backward like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer. Stunned, it took me a second to register that I was pinned to the wall by the desk, that dark cloud on the other side of it.

The ghost had successfully managed to use the desk as a weapon against me. If it hadn’t been still jabbed in my stomach, I wouldn’t even have believed it.

Bones threw the desk aside before I could, flinging it so hard that it split down the center when it hit the other wall. Dexter barked and jumped around, trying to bite the charcoal-colored cloud that was forming into the shape of a tall man. Tyler made a horrible gurgling noise, clutching his throat. Blood leaked out between his fingers.

“Bones, fix him. I’ll deal with this asshole.”

Dexter’s barks drowned out the sounds Tyler made as Bones slashed his palm with his fangs, then slapped it over Tyler’s mouth, ripping out the planchette at the same time.

Pieces of the desk suddenly became missiles that pelted the three of us. Bones spun around to take their brunt, shielding Tyler, while I jumped to cover the dog. A pained yelp let me know at least one had nailed Dexter before I got to him. Tyler’s gurgles became wrenching coughs.

“Boy, did you make a colossal fucking mistake,” I snarled, grabbing a piece of the ruined desk. Then I stood up, still blocking the dog from any more objects the ghost could lob at him. He’d materialized enough for me to see white hair swirling around a craggy, wrinkled face. The ghost hadn’t been young when he died, but the shoulders underneath his dark tunic weren’t bowed from age. They were squared in arrogance, and the green eyes boring into mine held nothing but contempt.

“Hure,” the ghost muttered before thrusting his hand into my neck and squeezing like he was about to choke me. I felt a stronger than normal pins-and-needles sensation but didn’t flinch. If this schmuck thought to terrify me with a cheap parlor trick like that, wait until he saw my first abracadabra.

“Heinrich Kramer?” I asked almost as an afterthought. Didn’t matter if it wasn’t him, he would regret what he did, but I wanted to know whose ass I was about to kick.

“Address me as Inquisitor,” the ghost replied in a heavy accent. At least he spoke English; I didn’t know a word of German.

I smiled nastily. “You know that witchcraft you pretended to try and stamp out when you were alive? I’ve got