the fishing village below.

'I told you—they're back in town. I think. I didn't actually see them when I left them, but that could be because Anniki had the stone.'

'No, I meant the others here.' He waved toward the shore.

I cautiously moved over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Along the craggy shoreline, a group of about twelve ghosts roamed aimlessly. They looked up as I stood staring down in increasing despair. More ghosts. Just what I needed to complicate things.

'This is the reaper,' Ulfur bellowed down to them.

They waved.

I lifted a wan hand and waved back.

'You're all ghosts?' I asked Ulfur.

He nodded and patted his horse's head. 'Landslide. Wiped out half the village. I had been in college in Reykjavik but came home for my father's birthday.'

'Ouch. You speak English really well,' I said, curious about that fact.

Ulfur smiled. 'There is not much to do with our time but watch and listen to people. A company runs tours from here to local fjords, so we get lots of tourists. It provides us all with an excellent means of learning other languages. English was the first we learned, and now that the Japanese tours have started, we're hoping to learn that language next.'

'I suppose it would provide for entertainment.' I thought for a moment. 'Maybe you'd all better stay here until I can figure out how to get you to heaven. Er… Ostri. Whichever.'

'I don't know that we're safe staying here,' he said, his face becoming serious. 'An Ilargi has been seen.'

'One of those bad-reaper, soul-eater guys?' A little shiver zipped down my back. 'They don't sound good at all. Well, I guess you'll all have to come with me.'

He nodded and bellowed out orders to the folks below.

I looked out at the sea, bluey grey and wind tossed, and wondered what on earth I was going to do now. 'Could my life get any stranger?'

The sound of the wind and the mournful cry of gulls wheeling overhead were the only answer to my question. I took one last look at the sea, then gestured to the waiting ghosts below and pointed to the village. A faint hurrahing cry met my ears as I jammed my hands in my pockets and started down the path into the village, Ulfur and his horse on my heels.

What on earth had I gotten myself into? And more importantly, how was I going to get out of it?

It took the better part of the day to get back to Dalkafjordhur. I didn't want to encounter the police, so I took the only bus that ran from the fishing village, praying the police wouldn't stop people going into town. There was a bit of a tussle when the driver found out I didn't have the fare, but I succeeded in returning to Dalkafjordhur by dint of clinging with desperate stubbornness to the railing on the back of one of the seats. Since none of the five passengers on the bus spoke English—or wanted to get involved—I don't quite know what threats the driver was using, but in the end he gave up trying to root me out, and let me ride without further harassment.

Ulfur, his horse, and the twelve other ghosts didn't raise a single complaint, but that's only because no one but me saw them. The ghosts were all polite, however, men, women, and children dressed in clothing from a hundred and fifty years before, all of them pathetically grateful I was taking them under my wing.

'I can't guarantee anything, but I suppose there's safety in numbers,' I told them after the bus driver, giving up on me, drove us up the track to the main road.

A woman who was seated near me gave me an odd look from the corner of her eye. I smiled at her but didn't have the energy to try to explain that there was, at that moment, a ghost sitting in her lap, while a horse nosed her bag on the ground beside her.

'You are the reaper,' an elderly male ghost said, nodding at Ulfur. 'He says you will take us to Ostri.'

'That's the idea,' I said, gnawing on my lower lip.

The woman shot me another look, then got up and took a seat closer to the driver.

I mulled over my options on what ended up being an hour-long drive into town. I didn't have the faintest idea how to help the ghosts, but the Brotherhood people at the church must know something about it. Clearly, I'd have to go to them to get specifics. Maybe one of them could even take over and lead all the ghosts on to their reward.

Cheered by that thought, I sat back and tried to think positively.

The sight of a police car slowly patrolling the streets of the town as we approached ended that happy mood. Wary of being caught in a police cordon, I got out at the first stop, taking a good twenty minutes to carefully make my way through as many backstreets and alleys as I could find, a parade of ghosts trailing after me.

'Where are we going?' one of the ghosts, a petulant-looking teenage girl, asked in a grating, whiny voice. 'Are we going to have to walk all the way to Ostri?'

An older woman shushed her with an anxious glance my way. 'Do not speak so to the reaper. She will show us the way.'

'So we hope,' I muttered. The sun was low in the sky, sending long, inky shadows from the buildings, making the alleyways particularly dim.

I kept an eye peeled for any tour members who might suddenly spot me and set up a hue and cry, but the streets were bare of lonely American tourists.

'And a good thing, too,' I said as I cut behind a row of buildings to avoid a busy intersection. 'All we need now is to run into someone I kno—oof!'

A dark shape loomed up out of nowhere, as hard as brick, and a million times scarier.

Teal blue eyes glowed at me from the depths of the darkness.

'What are you doing here?' I asked, too annoyed at having been dumped without a ride to be frightened of Kristoff. Behind me, the ghosts gathered. Ulfur's horse whinnied.

'Who's he?' the elderly male ghost asked.

'I don't know. I think she knows him, though,' Ulfur answered.

'I do, not that it's here nor there,' I answered.

Kristoff's eyebrows rose.

'Sorry. Talking to my ghosts.''

He narrowed his eyes. 'Ghosts, plural?'

'Yes. Thirteen of them. Fourteen if you count the horse.'

Kristoff was silent for the count of ten. 'Where's Alec?'

I put my hands on my hips, more than a little peeved. 'Do you seriously think I'd be skulking around back alleys with a herd of ghosts if he was with me?'

'He said he was going to find you. He hasn't?'

'No.' I glared at Kristoff as he emerged from the shadows, taking care to avoid the dim patch of sunlight that filtered down through the buildings. I hesitated, feeling unsure of what my emotions were with regard to Alec. I had a whole lot of questions to ask him, starting with Anniki and working down to why he had skipped out, leaving me alone without a word. 'You spoke to him, then? Did he say anything about Anniki?'

'Oh! It's a Dark One!' Ulfur said behind me. There was a murmur of agreement.

'He's ever so handsome. He can bite me any day,' the whiny girl said. I shot her a look. She smirked at me.

'What is there to say?' Kristoff answered, his scowl truly world-class. 'I suppose I will have to take you to him.'

'You don't have to sound so disgusted,' I snapped, my pride stung yet again by the fact that he obviously disliked me intensely. 'It's not like I have cooties or anything! And just for the record, I don't like you very much, either. You're not at all what a vampire should be like.'

That took him aback for a few seconds. 'And just what do you think a Dark One should be like?'

'Sexy! Like Angel and those guys in the vampire movies. Well, except the bun-head version, but that wasn't meant to be sexy.'

'You don't think I'm attractive?' he asked, an odd expression flickering across his face.

Вы читаете Zen and the Art of Vampires
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