The Downside Ghosts Series Books 1-3: Unholy Ghosts, Unholy Magic, City of Ghosts. Stacia Kane
for the phone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone but Lex, didn’t want to be anywhere but here. Drugged inertia set in, and would last until she suddenly started itching to be elsewhere, but at the moment there was no place on earth cozier than this bedroom where she’d spent a chaste and sleepless night alone in the bed while he took the couch. Quite a surprise, that, but then she’d been so tanked on the Oozers he’d given her she probably wouldn’t have felt a thing if he had tried it on.
The phone buzzed again in her hand. Might as well get it over with. “Hello?”
“Chess? Damn, baby, where you at? Terrible ripping this town apart looking for you, said something about your door open and your place all scraped? You alive?”
Shit! “Um … I answered the phone, so … Yes?”
Edsel gave a short laugh. “Right. Coursen you are. What happened your place?”
“I had a break-in. I’m fine. Tell Terrible I’m fine and I’ll call him in a few minutes, okay?”
“Got it. Hey, saw someone you need last couple hours ago. Recall I tell you my customer Tyson? Came by here, left his directions. Say he think he can help if you still need, come by his place later.”
“Oh, awesome. Thanks, Ed, thank you so much.” She mimed writing at Lex, who stared at her for a moment as if she’d gone insane, then twigged and handed her a pen and a slip of paper. Chinese characters covered one side of it, so she used the other.
“Just you watch your back, Chess. Tyson okay far as I know, but I ain’t know, dig me?”
“Got it. Thanks again.”
This was the best news she’d had in days, despite Edsel’s warning; the prospect of meeting someone he obviously mistrusted didn’t please her, but she needed the information more than she worried about the source. If she could decipher that fucking amulet she could figure out what the soul-powered spell was doing, and if she knew what it was doing she could figure out the best way to stop it and set Slipknot’s soul free. Not to mention hopefully ending the possibility of more hooded thugs showing up at her place.
Next were her messages. Terrible. Edsel. Doyle, then Terrible twice, then Elder Griffin wanting to know if she’d made any progress on the Morton case yet, then Terrible again. She’d have to stop by the Church at some point today and drop off the photos of Albert Morton’s books for Goody Tremmell to add to the file. She also needed to interview the Mortons. Maybe she could do that later, if there was time after going to see Edsel’s acquaintance.
Finally she called Terrible. “Hey, it’s Chess.”
“Chess?” Pause. “Shit, where you at? You cool? Somebody got you?”
“No, no, I’m fine, I—I had a break-in, and I got scared and—”
“You ain’t called me, let me know. Went your place on the morn, dig, got blood on your floor and you not there. Whose blood? They get away?”
She blinked. Lex had called some people to take care of the bodies. Apparently they hadn’t bothered to tidy up, which she guessed was only to be expected. “Yeah, they got away. Ran away. It wasn’t my blood, though. I managed to get one of them with my knife.”
“Good job, aye. You see who was it? Thinking got something about Chester?”
“Yeah. They were wearing robes, they … I think they wanted the amulet. So yeah, I think it was. What time is it?” Let it go, let it go … She did not want to talk about the implications of the break-in and how exactly the invaders had gotten away. Didn’t trust herself to talk about it, not just yet.
“Just past midday.”
Damn, midday already? The windows in Lex’s place were covered by such thick blinds it was impossible to know how bright it was outside, like being in a secret cave somewhere. A safe, secret cave. Just the thought of the noonday sun made her eyes hurt. “I’m fine, Terrible. I came to stay with—um, with a friend on Church grounds.”
“Aye, safe there. Good idea.” She could hear his breath through the line. “You heading back now? Only Edsel said he might have someplace I ought to take you.”
“Yeah. Look, I’ll meet you at Edsel’s booth in an hour or so, okay?”
Lex laid another line for her while she called Elder Griffin and let him know she’d be by, then bagged up some powder for her before walking her to the door.
“You coming back here this night?” His index finger lifted her chin, a brief touch that sent an unwelcome shiver through her body.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you if I need to, okay?”
“You do that.”
She expected the kiss, even felt confident it wouldn’t affect her the way it had before. But it did. Her knees went weak as his fingers twined in her hair, as he pulled her close to him with a strong hand on her hip. “You do that, tulip. I’ll be waiting.”
“Do not attempt to form a connection with one of the dead, no matter how it may seem profitable. It is not.”
—The Book of Truth, Rules, Article 35
She’d never been this far out of the city. Had the day been as bright and sunny as she’d pictured, it would have been a pretty drive. As it was she could barely see. The Chevelle’s wipers slapped a quick beat across the windshield and fog obscured any view there might have been. It felt as though they were hurtling through space, she and Terrible, talking occasionally while Chuck Berry came softly from the speakers and she made notes for her interviews with the Mortons later. Elder Griffin hadn’t been upset by her lack of progress, but she was, and seeing Randy Duncan hovering around again hadn’t made her feel better. He’d lost his edge, what little edge he’d had. She didn’t want to do the same.
“Do you know where we are?”
“How many times you gonna ask that?”
“Until we get there. We’ve been driving forever.”
“Not even an hour. You always this impatient?”
“I’m bored. I feel cooped up. It’s too foggy outside, I can’t see anything.”
“Ain’t much to see.”
“How do you know?”
“You the only one in this car never been out the city.”
“I’ve been out of it. Just … not in a long time.”
“Not much purpose in it. Not much out here, not anymore.”
As if to illustrate this, he slowed down to make a turn. Through the mist loomed a blackened, craggy shape; the remnants of what had once been a church, one of the many destroyed by furious citizens when Haunted Week finally ended. The country was littered with these brick and granite corpses, silent testaments to a system of belief that had served mankind for centuries but ultimately proved as worthless and obsolete as a black-and-white television.
“Roll down yon window some,” he said.
“But it’s raining.”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. “Ain’t say open it wide.”
They seemed to be rolling through a neighborhood now. She could barely make out the shadows of buildings at regular intervals, and he’d slowed to about forty. Maybe he wanted to throw things out of the car? Whatever. She grabbed the crank and gave it a half turn.
“What is that smell?”
“The ocean.”
“Doesn’t smell like the ocean.”
“Naw,