One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress #6)(17)

“Boy, did you make a colossal f*cking mistake,” I snarled, grabbing a piece of the ruined desk. Then I stood up, still blocking the dog from any more objects the ghost could lob at him. He’d materialized enough for me to see white hair swirling around a craggy, wrinkled face. The ghost hadn’t been young when he died, but the shoulders underneath his dark tunic weren’t bowed from age. They were squared in arrogance, and the green eyes boring into mine held nothing but contempt.

“Hure,” the ghost muttered before thrusting his hand into my neck and squeezing like he was about to choke me. I felt a stronger than normal pins-and-needles sensation but didn’t flinch. If this schmuck thought to terrify me with a cheap parlor trick like that, wait until he saw my first abracadabra.

“Heinrich Kramer?” I asked almost as an afterthought. Didn’t matter if it wasn’t him, he would regret what he did, but I wanted to know whose ass I was about to kick.

“Address me as Inquisitor,” the ghost replied in a heavy accent. At least he spoke English; I didn’t know a word of German.

I smiled nastily. “You know that witchcraft you pretended to try and stamp out when you were alive? I’ve got it running all through my veins.” Then I sliced open my wrist with the ragged edge of a piece of desk, blood dripping in slow plops before the wound healed.

If I wanted to summon a legion of regular ghosts to my side, I’d shed tears, but blood, combined with my inner roar of come and get him, boys! was shed to summon a different kind of spectre, all courtesy of my borrowed abilities from New Orleans’ most famous voodoo queen. Cold, seething power streaked through my body, electrifying my nerves and filling the room with an abundance of supernatural energy. The ghost could feel it, too, I could tell. A frown replaced the sneer on his face. Dexter squeaked and limped out of the room.

In the next instant, shadows sprang up from the floor, flinging themselves upon the ghost with all of the hunger that the grave held within it. It wasn’t her expertise with spells or potions that made vampires and ghouls alike fear Marie Laveau. It was her ability to call forth Remnants and bend them to her will, just like I was doing now. As one, the Remnants began to rip through the ghost’s body, eliciting a howl from Kramer that I savored like candy. Remnants fed on pain, and it sounded like the Inquisitor was serving up a banquet. I didn’t know if they could kill the ghost, Kramer lacking the flesh that they could eventually explode, but I was willing to let them do their best to find out.

My wishful thinking was short-lived, however. Just as abruptly as Kramer appeared, he vanished, leaving the Remnants twining their diaphanous, deadly forms through nothing more substantial than air.

“Come back here!” I yelled.

Nothing stirred except the dozens of Remnants who turned toward me with hazy expressions that all seemed to be asking the same question.

Now what?

Damned if I knew. “Go get him!” I tried, but they only swayed like reeds in a strong wind while their bodies stayed anchored in the demolished room.

Great. I shivered, fighting off the combination of hunger and cold that raising Remnants always brought about. My most lethal, secret weapon couldn’t follow Kramer, and I’d neglected to order him to stay put before I unleashed them on him.

“Wait,” I told the Remnants. Maybe Kramer would spoof back for another assault. I doubted it, but I could hope he’d be that stupid.

“How’s he doing?” I asked Bones, kicking pieces of the desk out of my way to reach the opposite corner of the room.

Bones stood and moved aside, revealing Tyler crouched in a ball on the floor. He clutched his neck, but blood no longer streamed out between his fingers, and his breathing was ragged but unhampered.

“He’ll be fine,” Bones replied. “Just a bit traumatized.”

“I was dead.” Tyler’s voice was no more than a croak. “I saw a bright light, felt myself floating away—”

“You did nothing of the sort,” Bones interrupted. “Your heart didn’t stop once though your larynx was crushed, and you were choking on your own blood.”

“Oh, God,” Tyler moaned.

“Maybe you shouldn’t attempt to reassure him,” I said dryly, fighting a shiver for a different reason. The Remnants tugged on my emotions, the chill and hunger of the grave permeating my defenses.

Bones cast a glance at the Remnants, his mouth curling down. He’d experienced firsthand what they could do when Marie unleashed them on him in order to blackmail me into drinking her blood. To say it hadn’t endeared them to him was putting it mildly, but they couldn’t help themselves. They were like supernatural missiles drawn to whatever target they were pointed at—or whatever target was the closest.

“Pity they didn’t do the trick.”

I lifted my shoulder in an apologetic shrug. “Not their fault. I jumped the gun.”

He gave me a level look. “All of us underestimated what Kramer could do, but we won’t make that mistake again. At least now, we have confirmation of Elisabeth’s claims.”

Oh yeah. I’d say Tyler’s near-death experience, the wreckage of this office, his injured dog, and my being bulldozed by a desk were all very definitive forms of confirmation.

I sighed, brushing some wood shards off Bones’s shirt. “How long do you want to wait here to see if he comes back?”