One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress #6)(70)

“I can’t come now, but I’ll see you soon,” I promised her, exchanging a glance with Bones. Real soon, considering we’d deliver the trap to Spade’s in the next couple days, then wait for my inner signal to lead Kramer right to us.

Wait until Sarah found that out. Then she’d be extra, extra nervous.

Or maybe we’d be lucky, and she’d know who the accomplice was. Two out of three women had fit the same pattern before Kramer started attacking them, and I was betting Sarah wouldn’t be the exception.

“Sarah, you had a cat recently, didn’t you?” I asked her. “One who died? Do you happen to know how it happened, or who did it?”

Her thoughts seized with that question, making it hard to pick out the coherent ones from their less stable, scattered counterparts. I caught words like “hung” and “break in,” though, confirming my belief. Francine’s and Lisa’s cats had been hung, too, their little bodies left on display. Step one in the beginning of Kramer’s reign of torment.

“Do you know who did it?” I pressed.

She shook her head, getting so visibly upset that Bones nudged me. “Let her get settled first, Kitten,” he murmured. “She’ll be better able to answer questions with Denise and the others.”

He was right. This was too soon, and it was a long shot that she’d know who killed her cat, anyway. I gave Sarah a quick hug goodbye, telling her again that this would all be over soon, and she’d be safe.

God, let that be true, I prayed.

Spade held out his arm to Sarah as if he were offering to escort her to a ball. “Please come with me,” he said.

She looked at me. I nodded, forcing a smile. “He’ll take you to the others, and I’ll see you soon.”

With obvious reluctance, she took Spade’s arm. Spade gave a last nod to me and Bones, then swooped Sarah up and winged her away with all the flair of those old Dracula movies that the real Vlad Tepesh hated. A scream trailed after them, growing fainter, until Sarah’s voice was lost to the darkness.

I turned to Bones with a slight smile. “Beam me up, Scotty.”

His snort was soft with amusement. “You don’t need me for that. You can beam yourself now.”

“I know,” I said, sliding my arms around him. “But I’d rather fly like this.”

His arms circled me, strong, hard, and infinitely blissful. “So would I, Kitten.”

Much later, I heard the distinct rustle of boards on the porch that said someone was out there. Had to be Kramer. I stayed seated on the family room floor with my back propped against the wall and debated ignoring him. If I moved, Bones might wake up, and he’d just fallen asleep. It was my turn to make sure all the sage stayed lit while everyone else slept. Kramer had been known to chuck branches or boards at sage jars to knock them over, trying either to burn us out or extinguish the repelling smoke. Neither was an option we wanted to explore, hence the shifts.

If left up to Bones, he’d split up the watches between himself and Ian, but that wouldn’t be fair. My mother couldn’t help her weariness as soon as dawn struck, but I could stay awake as well as the men could. All of us slept in the family room, sharing the four mattresses that we’d brought in from the bedrooms. It might not be comfortable—and it sure as hell wasn’t romantic—but it was safer. If by chance the watchperson did fall asleep and Kramer managed to sneak past the sage and get in, he wouldn’t be able to single out the most vulnerable of us without waking all the rest. Not with the way we slept, clustered around each other.

Another creak of the boards sounded outside, but this time, it was followed by a whisper I couldn’t make out. I frowned. That was unusual for Kramer. He normally liked to bash about while stringing curses together as loud as he could squawk. The ghost knew when we slept, too, so he frequently stopped by at dawn for maximum pain in the ass effect. But whispers? It made me curious enough to get up. It might be Fabian or Elisabeth, unable to venture inside because of the sage and trying to be considerate by not waking everyone with a loud greeting.

I crept toward the door, keeping as quiet as I could. No need for everyone to wake up and investigate the odd whisper. Bones stirred, but his eyes remained closed. My mother was dead to the world, Tyler’s snores continued uninterrupted, and Ian didn’t even twitch. I couldn’t help shaking my head as I looked at him. Ian slept like a baby every morning—well, a baby who continually kept one hand down his pants. Guess his misdeeds didn’t bother his conscience enough to cost him a moment of shut-eye.

Carefully, still trying not to wake the others, I opened the front door. To my surprise, it was Kramer floating over the far side of the ruined porch instead of Fabian or Elisabeth. He let go of one of the loose boards when he saw me, beckoning me forward with almost a friendly gesture.

Oh, sure, I’ll come right over without getting any sage first, I thought. Did he think slamming that car on me had knocked my brains loose?

I gave him the finger, then picked up two of the nearest jars of sage, deciding to go a few feet away from the door only because I wanted to give everyone else a few more moments of sleep. If Kramer kept to his usual form, he’d be cursing and hurling boards at the house soon enough.

The Inquisitor didn’t respond to my fingered opinion. He simply waited without moving or speaking while I walked over without making a sound on the rickety remains of the porch. I kept the door open, and, though I ventured away from it, I made sure to stay within two good lunges.