“Well, I don’t know,” Sylvie said. “Not either of those things. I didn’t even know the third sister’s name. I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that I have a distant cousin who wants my mysterious inheritance.” Sylvie sat down across from Tamara and reached out to stroke a finger across the rock. “You’d think it would be obvious, what she’d been, what she could do. But I don’t know . . . I do know she could see the dead.”
Tamara’s eyes lit up. “The dead? Or ghosts?”
Sylvie shrugged. “They’re the same, aren’t they?”
Tamara deferred to me. I supposed it was my area of expertise. “Someone who can feel, see, or hear ghosts is basically a medium,” I said.
Lilac raised her hand. “Like me.” Then she frowned. “But I guess I’m not a very good one, since I got the detection part without the communication.”
“Later,” Tamara mouthed.
“In any event,” I said, “we sometimes casually refer to the dead and ghosts interchangeably, but they are different. Ghosts are a small subset of the dead. A medium’s magic involves ghosts, but there are others whose magic more broadly involves the dead. And the undead.”
“And creatures like the construct that attacked Lilac,” Tamara said. “It was never truly alive.”
“So, if Grandmother wasn’t a medium, what was she?” Sylvie’s gaze met mine, and I felt terrible that we were twisting precious memories of her grandmother.
“Sorcerers, necromancers, practitioners of certain magical belief systems. There are a number of possibilities.” My words certainly weren’t comforting, but she wanted to know.
“Those sound scary.” Sylvie’s voice was firm and her tone matter-of-fact, but she definitely looked worried.
Lilac leaned closer, like a small child entranced by an especially compelling ghost story. “What I want to know is what’s dead, besides a ghost? I mean, everyone knows about zombies—”
Sylvie choked.
Lilac bit her lip. “I’m sorry. And we’re so short on time . . .” She settled into her seat. “I’ll be quiet. Promise.”
“We’re no nearer to knowing what this rock does.” Tamara stroked it, as if it were a living thing and needed to be placated. “If anything, we’ve broadened the scope of possibilities. All we know for sure is that your grandmother wanted you—not her sister’s people—to have it. We can’t give it away knowing nothing more. It’s also unfortunate I didn’t recognize any of the family names. Without some knowledge of what to expect, it’s difficult to prepare for battle.”
Battle? I didn’t let my concern show, because neither Lilac nor Sylvie needed to see me worried. But battle? I was mortal now. Things like battles made me break out in nervous hives. Worse, Sylvie and Lilac had no business anywhere near a supernatural conflict.
“A battle is just another word for conflict, Geoff.” Tamara’s grass-green eyes looked into mine. “You really must learn to think quietly. But you’re not wrong about these two. Lilac, Sylvie, it’s for the best that you stay here while Geoff and I do what we can for Clarence.”
Sylvie looked stricken. Then she stood up and stepped away from the table. “While you do what you can? I don’t think so. You don’t sound the least bit confident. And it’s my rock, stone, inheritance.” She gestured wildly at the rock. “I’m going with you.”
“Me too.” Lilac stood up and moved to stand next to Sylvie. “But, um, I just don’t want to miss anything.” She gave Sylvie a sheepish grin.
Sylvie nodded with a determined look. You’d have thought Lilac had just declared her unwavering devotion to the pursuit of justice for all, rather than expressing a keen fear of missing out.
“So.” Sylvie placed her hands firmly on her hips. “What’s next?”
Tamara gave Lilac and then Sylvie a soul-searching look with those intense eyes of hers. She must have been satisfied, because she said, “All right, then, since you’re so sure.”
I didn’t get a second glance, let alone a soul search. Probably a good thing, because I wasn’t at all sure. But Clarence needed rescuing. And it was the right thing to do.
“We’re off to ask for some help,” Tamara said. “Protection charms aren’t my particular specialty, and we could use some good supplies.” A reasonable enough plan. Being properly equipped always seemed a good choice when heading into . . . conflict. But then Tamara lowered the boom: “It’s time to get Hector’s help.”
“Hector, as in the same man you told me not to disturb during daylight hours?” It was most certainly daylight. Our three hours were close to running out, but we were hours from darkness.
This wasn’t sounding good. And that was without the added consideration of Hector’s unknown nature. His other-than-human nature.
Lilac’s eyes widened. “Heavens above and hell below. I’m meeting a vampire.”
With a disapproving frown, Tamara said, “Quit that. Vampires are nasty, dirty creatures. And you’d be hard-pressed to find a helpful vampire.” She shook her head, as if even the thought were outrageous.
Vamps tended to turn my stomach, and after the first several hundred corpses as a soul collector, that was hard to do.
“How do you think Hector, who is not a vampire”—I glanced in Lilac’s direction—“can help us?”
“I think he might have a trick or two up his sleeve.” Eyes twinkling with mirth, Tamara said, “Hector’s a demon.”
26
Demons. As in fire and hell and brimstone . . . maybe? I hadn’t actually had any dealings with them. Hadn’t known they were more than myth until now.
Soul collectors were kept in the dark about certain things: where collected souls were sent, whether the afterlife was indeed a better place, the existence of a heaven or a hell. Basically, anything that would impede a soul collector in his or her duty of ushering the departed on to their next stop. The existence of demons seemed to
