One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress #6)(75)
“I know who the third woman is,” Bones stated.
That stopped me in the process of pulling out wadded-up bits of food, paper, and packages from the kitchen trash can. He came down the stairs, his expression frozen into beautifully sculpted, unyielding planes.
“You do? How? Who is she?”
That dark brown gaze didn’t waver despite the babble of questions I lobbed at him. “It’s you, Kitten.”
“Me?” I blurted in disbelief. All activity upstairs ground to a halt from the sudden silence. “It’s not me. Why would you even think—”
“You’re the only one who fits,” he cut me off. “Who else has Kramer fixated on these past several weeks? You. He followed you around even before he knew we were setting a trap for him, always attacking you first except the one time I was kissing you, and he tried to kill me for it. The time frame of when he picks his victims fits because he met you right when Francine and Lisa said he started tormenting them. You’ve suffered recent tragedies like they have. You’ve been staying in the Sioux City area. He even had Sarah try to hang your cat! Why would he do that unless he considered Helsing to be your familiar as he did with Lisa’s and Francine’s cats?”
“He knows animals can sense him,” I whispered, reeling at all the points Bones brought up.
“Sarah didn’t do a thing to Dexter, did she?” he noted. “You fit Kramer’s profile perfectly save for one thing—you’re not single. But he has a plan to separate you from me, and I’m telling you now, I won’t allow it to happen.”
I scoffed to cover the realization snaking through me that everything Bones said made sense. What was the first thing I’d done when I met Kramer? Told him I had witchcraft in my veins and sicced a bunch of Remnants on him. He’d called me a witch from that day on, among other choice names, and talked about how I would burn, but I’d brushed that off as meaningless ranting. Too late, I realized that nothing Kramer did was meaningless.
I’d been so sure I’d beat him because he’d vastly underestimated me. Looked like I’d been the one to vastly underestimate him.
“Kramer knows he can’t separate us,” I began, then the final realization hit me, making my jaw clench shut.
Not unless I thought by going to him alone, I could save Francine and Lisa.
Bones’s smile was more a twisting of his lips. “That’s right, luv, which is why I expect it won’t be long until you’re visited by a ghost.”
Ian left the house to do a flyover of the surrounding areas on the off chance that Sarah was dumb enough to park Spade’s car where it could be seen. Spade stayed upstairs with Denise, cleaning her up and accelerating her healing by giving her some of his blood. From what I could hear, she was sleeping almost normally now, her pulse no longer weak or thready. Bones was on Spade’s laptop, hacking into every account of Sarah’s he could find to see if she owned or rented any other properties where she might have taken Francine and Lisa. We could hope she’d been that dumb, but if she was directed by Kramer, I doubted it. The ghost had proven to be more than clever, and there were so many empty, abandoned places they could use that wouldn’t leave a trail leading back to Sarah, it would be a miracle if we found anything that way.
I found Helsing hiding underneath the family room couch, flattened out to fit in the narrow space. I had to lift it for him to crawl out, then spent several minutes coaxing him onto my lap. He hissed if my hand brushed his neck when I petted him, either out of bad memories or bruising. Or both. Dexter stayed by my feet, seeking the reassurance of closeness but not daring to jump on the couch where he’d be in range of Helsing’s swatting paws.
Tyler and my mother were on their way over. No need for them to wait until later anymore. Bones fitted the broken front door back over the space, using nails to hold it in place since the hinges were damaged beyond repair. Anyone coming or going would have to use the back door. Sage burned softly in every room, preventing any type of spectral commuting. Even so, Kramer’s presence seemed to loom in the house, mocking us from the scent of blood permeating through the closed bedroom door where Denise had been shot to the jars of sage that we had to keep refilling and relighting. When I heard rustling outside that wasn’t caused by the wind or the natural sounds of wildlife, I wasn’t surprised. I eased my kitty off my lap, careful not to jostle him since he had to be sore from Sarah’s rough treatment, and stood.
Bones remained on the couch, laptop in front of him, tightly coiled energy flaring past his shields for a moment.
“See if you can glean any useful information,” he said, nailing me with a hard stare, “but you are not leaving with him.”
That last part was said with an undercurrent of steel. I nodded, not arguing because I had no intention of going anywhere with the Inquisitor. At least, not yet.
I went out the back door of the house, heading toward the vacant barn where I’d heard those rustling sounds. I hadn’t brought any burning sage with me, but I didn’t expect that Kramer would have come here to attack me. No, my money was on his being here for two reasons: to gloat, and to make me an offer he didn’t think I could refuse.
Sure enough, a tunic-clad figure hovered about a foot off the ground near the open doors of the barn. I held out my hands to show that they were empty of sage and stopped about twenty yards from him.