The Downside Ghosts Series Books 1-3: Unholy Ghosts, Unholy Magic, City of Ghosts. Stacia Kane
it was the unexpected presence of a child in her apartment, or maybe she was just afraid that if she did she’d fall asleep.
“You gonna try to clear them ghosts at Chester?”
“Why?”
Brain leaned against the opposite wall and studied the floor. “I just curious. About what you do. Good thing, right? Good magic clears the ghosts.”
“In general, yes. The Church doesn’t do black magic.”
“But do you?”
“What is that supposed … Brain? Do you know something about that airport?”
His eyes widened. “Don’t know what you’re meaning. I just curious, is all.”
No. He’d started to say he’d been there before, hadn’t he? Friday night with Terrible. He’d almost said he went there all the time.
“Did you see something out there, Brain? Did you see something happen?”
“No! No, I never been there cepting when you met me. I see nothing there.” His fingers wrapped around his beer bottle were white.
“You can tell me, you know. If you saw something, it might be important. Really important, okay?” She paused. “I bet Bump would be grateful if you saw something that helped him open that airport. Might even give you a job.”
“Terrible hate me.”
“Terrible doesn’t hate you. And even if he did … he’d like you if you helped. Wouldn’t you like that? Working for Bump? Having Terrible as a friend? You could tell Hunchback to fuck off right to his face and he wouldn’t be able to touch you.”
Some of the fear drained from Brain’s face. “Thinking so?”
“I do. If you know something, Brain, you should tell me. It might be important. And I’ll … I’ll keep you safe. You can stay here, as long as you need to.”
“With you?” The hopeful expression on his face was like an arrow straight into her heart. How many times in her childhood had she dreamed of safety, of being somewhere no one would hurt her or of being so powerful no one could?
Now she was. Practically untouchable, thanks to her position with the Church and her new alliance with Bump. No wonder he’d come to her.
“Yes, with me.”
“True thing?”
“True thing, Brain.”
He sighed, a long, shaky sigh that seemed to come from his toes and work its way up, and nodded.
Chess picked her beer up off the counter. “Okay, great. So let’s go in the living room and sit down, and you can tell me all about it, okay? Everything you saw.”
The knock at the door startled them both. Months went by and not a single person came to visit her. Now she had two, at the crack of freaking dawn. Great.
Doyle held up a white paper bag. “Thought you might like some breakfast.”
“It is not permitted for those outside the Church to inscribe power into their skins. Only purely decorative tattoos are acceptable.”
—The Book of Truth, Laws, Article 420
He took her silence for assent, and brushed past her to come in. “I was up, and I figured you’d be up—you went to the Morton place last night, right?—so I figured, why not. Wanted to find out how that hand is doing, too. Have you been cleaning it?”
He set the bag on her kitchen counter and started unpacking it. Sodium fumes filled the air, along with the scent of damp sausage. It didn’t make her remotely hungry.
Chess’s first instinct was to send him away, but Brain had wanted something to eat. If Doyle was so eager to feed someone he could feed him. They’d get some food into the boy, then Doyle could go away and she could hear what Brain had to say. And if Doyle didn’t like it, too bad. It was awfully presumptive of him to just show up here like that.
“How did you get in the building?”
“Somebody was leaving.” He glanced at her. “It’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but I just wish—”
“Chess?”
Brain stood in the middle of her living room, his cheeks paler than usual. “I gots to go, Chess, sorry, I forgot something I’s supposed to do, aye?”
“But there’s plenty of food, we can talk after—”
“No! I meaning, no, it’s cool. I catch you another time.”
“Brain, don’t—” Too late. The boy moved fast when he wanted to. He was down the stairs before she could get into the hall and stop him. “Shit.”
“Who’s that?”
She shrugged. Now she was going to have to be alone with Doyle. And mountains of food. “Just a kid. He said … never mind.”
“He looked pretty upset.”
“His boss kicked him out.”
“And he wanted to talk about it? Why’d he come to you?” He opened cabinet doors, finally finding her mismatched plates and grabbing two of the three she owned.
“I guess he knew I’d be up.”
“Just like me.” He gave her one of his killer smiles and headed past her into the living room, holding the plates piled high.
“Yeah, um, about that …”
“You’re going to tell me you don’t want me to just come over unannounced, right?” He plunked himself down on the couch, right in the center so if she wanted to sit she’d have to be practically touching him.
“Something like that.”
“I’m sorry. I just … I wanted to talk to you, and not over the phone or on Church grounds.”
“Why?” She perched on the arm of the couch, curious in spite of herself. She never got to hear gossip.
“You know Bruce Wickman, right?”
“I know who he is.” Damn. This was probably going to be the same thing she’d overheard between Bruce and the Grand Elder the other morning.
“He says the City’s going crazy. Like, more than usual after the Festival. He thinks something might be going on.”
“Has he talked to the Grand Elder?”
Doyle nodded. “Says he doesn’t believe him, though. Bruce is scared. He said in ten years of Liaising he’s never seen them like this. He said he’s been having trouble sleeping, that he’s been seeing things. In his dreams.”
Chess cocked an eyebrow. This was sort of interesting, but she didn’t want to let him know that. “And?”
“So I think he’s right. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately, too. So have Dana Wright and a couple of other people.”
Dana was a Debunker, like herself and Doyle. It wasn’t unusual for Liaisers to have issues with spirits—if they weren’t careful they could be tailed or even possessed when a spirit refused to leave them after a Liaising, another reason their pay was higher—but Debunkers …
“Randy’s, like, panicking. He actually wanted to sleep at my place last night, he said he’d had some horrible nightmare. Typical, huh?”
Chess laughed, but not unkindly. “Randy’s just having a hard time, I think. Maybe the job is getting to him. He’s been off for a while.”
“Have