my dream/vision. I needed a little time away from everything.
I did make a cal to the phone number on the file I had on the prince. I got a recording tel ing me it
wasn’t in service—al three times I cal ed. Not good. I needed to deal with the vampire sire thing first,
but tomorrow I was going to be checking in with the royal family. If Gibson didn’t like it, that was just too
damned bad.
I set the cel phone on the passenger seat in easy reach and started the car. I took Ocean View
rather than the expressway, tel ing myself that I didn’t want to get caught in bumper-to-bumper rushhour traffic, but I probably would’ve done it anyway, to be near the sea. I drove the Miata faster than I
should’ve over the winding roads in the lengthening shadows cast in the fading daylight. The ancient
trees and tal wal s had been landscaped in such a way as to provide security and privacy without
looking grim. I could taste the tang of salt on the air from the breeze blowing in from over the water. The
racuous cal of the gul s was louder than normal, but I’m one of those strange people who actual y like
the noise that gul s make. Most people around here consider them rats with wings, like pigeons are
back east. But I like them … the way they swoop and dance on the currents around the shores. I
couldn’t ride with the top down, but nothing stopped me from opening the widows wide and watching and
listening.
I was stil feeling a little bit nauseous. Part of it was nerves. But I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. I
can skip one meal without too much trouble, but if I let it go too long, I end up feeling sick, grumpy, and
not at al hungry. I’d probably have to force myself to eat, but that would be later. First, I wanted to pick
my best friend’s brain for any memories she had of her two years of vampire studies. Then I’d have
her take a peek in that mirror I’d bought her, see if we could find any useful information.
If al else failed, I’d see if she could wrangle me permission to camp out overnight in the facility’s
chapel. Assuming I
tested myself against holy ground. But hel , if I let myself think too hard about it, the list of things that
were liable to be a problem would just overwhelm me. I needed to focus. Take one step at a time. Visit
Vicki. Find a safe place for the night. Then, when daylight came and Kevin was back from his hunt,
we’d talk and plan.
Thinking about my friends made me feel a little better about the whole mess. Not a
I’d take what I could get. They’d stick by me, no matter what. They already had. And if there was an
answer, we’d find it. Al I had to do was stay alive long enough for it to do me some good. I could do
that.
Maybe.
I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself that I was capable of getting a handle on the situation.
I almost started to believe myself. Right up until the temperature in the car began to drop.
Have I mentioned I’m haunted by ghosts? It was my one weirdness when I was stil vanil a human. My
baby sister had been a powerful medium. Whether the last name Graves came from an ancestor with
the same talent or was just a dose of irony I don’t know. I do know I’m grateful I wasn’t born with the
“gift.” The dead may try to contact me, but it ain’t easy. They can’t use what isn’t there. So only the
most powerful spirits can get through—those and the one spirit who attached herself to me on her
death … Ivy herself.
She doesn’t manifest often, but it’s general y memorable when she does. If I had the talent, she could
use my body to talk to me with my own mouth. I don’t. So she has to do things the hard way. Sometimes
it makes her frustrated and I wind up with poltergeist-style behavior. Kids think they have the best
temper tantrums, but
wheel.
I pul ed onto the nearest side street and up to the curb, my breath fogging the air inside the car,
despite the open windows. One of the first manifestations of a spirit is a rapid, drastic temperature
drop.
“I know you’re here. It’s al right. Just don’t mess with the Miata, Ivy. You know how much I love this
car.” I kept my voice low, using soothing tones. Getting agitated creates a kind of energy that makes
the ghost more likely to act out.
The dome light flashed on and off. If it was Ivy, we’d worked out a code over the years. Once was a
yes. Twice was no.
“Ivy, is it you?”
Two flashes.
to stay and latch onto someone, there was general y a reason, and they almost always tried to talk to
the living, but do they communicate with
Ghosts attach to a person or thing that was important to them in their life, someone or something that
they consider unfinished business. Until that business gets settled or the body gets cremated, they
don’t move on to the afterlife. Trouble was, I never have found out what Ivy wants from me.
True believers almost never ghost, so this was someone I knew who wasn’t a churchgoer. Not many
of those in my life, are there?
Um, just about everyone but my gran. But considering the level of violence in my life, there have
actual y been very few fatalities. Could it be Bob Johnson? The timing was right and he’d been with me
once when Ivy had manifested. I couldn’t think why he’d latch onto me, but stranger things had
happened. The car was practical y a meat locker at this point, and I shivered, my skin crawling with
goose bumps.
“Bob, is it you?”
Two flashes. Wrong again. The spirit, whoever it was, was starting to get frustrated. I could feel an
electric tension building in the air, enough to make my hair start to frizz.
“Easy. Take it easy. I know you’re trying to communicate. We can work this out.” A thought crossed
my mind. It might work—or not, depending on how focused and powerful the ghost was. “See if you can
focus the cold to use frost to write on the window.” If it was an older ghost, they should be able to. I
pointed to the rounded surface of the windshield. In response, the temperature dropped even further.
My teeth started chattering as an arctic blast ruffled my hair to hit the glass with pinpoint precision. I
watched in fascinated horror as familiar handwriting took shape and a name appeared.
My heart stopped for a moment and I felt dizzy.
