This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(16)

The nurse replied with an affirmative and had the items procured within two minutes flat. Tate stuck himself, waving Anne off, and soon the plastic bag began to fill with crimson liquid.

My stomach let out a rumble that I was sure every person in the room could hear, to my embarrassment.

“Gonna tell us why you’re not drinking from him?” Tate asked, jerking his head toward Bones.

“He’s too strong. I’m picking up more abilities than I can handle,” I replied, trying not to stare in a fixated way at the bag that was now half full.

“And someone like me is nice and weak.” Tate let out a snort.

Even though Tate deserved to be taken down several notches for all the shit he’d pulled the past couple years, I couldn’t bring myself to rub salt in the wound. “You’re not weak; you’re just a young vampire. If you were Bones’s age, I’m sure you’d be way too strong for me to drink from.”

Bones’s amusement flitted across my subconscious even as Tate muttered, “FYI, pity makes it worse, so next time, don’t try to cheer me up.”

I threw up my hands. Men. They were impossible to reason with.

“How were you intending for Dave to make contact while he’s undercover?” Bones asked Don, changing the subject.

My uncle frowned. “The usual way. Calling in whenever he can safely manage.”

“Too risky, that,” Bones stated. “His mobile could be monitored, texts and e-mails copied . . . you need a communications method the ghouls won’t suspect whilst he’s still gaining their trust.”

“And what method is that?” Don asked, skepticism heavy in his voice.

Bones’s smile was sly. “Ghostly courier.”

“Of course!” I exclaimed, all of a sudden feeling better about Dave’s chances. “The other ghouls, if they notice Fabian at all, will just ignore him. Plus, Ohio’s full of ley lines, so he can travel fast if there’s trouble and Dave needs to be extracted.”

Don look intrigued. “Will the ghost be agreeable to this?”

“We’ll ask, but I bet he says yes.” My spirits lifted the more I considered this. “Fabian told me that above everything else, he misses feeling useful. Being noncorporeal limits a lot of things he can participate in, you know?”

Fabian had also missed companionship, which is how he’d ended up with me and Bones. Loneliness wasn’t limited to the living, after all.

“Why can’t we just have Fabian spy on the ghouls and report back, instead of sending Dave in as a plant with Fabian as the relay?” Cooper asked.

I pursed my lips. Much as that option appealed to me because it represented the least amount of danger, it wasn’t practical.

“Ghosts are usually ignored, but for Fabian to glean the same amount of intel that Dave could while posing as a new recruit, he’d have to practically piggyback those ghouls. If they put two and two together about the same ghost always being around, they could feed us misinformation through him.”

Sometimes the old-fashioned way was the best choice, even if it meant a greater risk.

Tate pulled the needle out of his arm, and the small hole healed before he’d handed over the now full bag.

“There’s someone else who might be useful with this operation,” he said slowly. “A freelance reporter who keeps exposing classified paranormal information to the public.”

“How can a reporter help track a group of ghoul zealots? I doubt they advertise their anti-vampire rallies in the newspaper.”

“This guy’s got good instincts,” Tate replied with a touch of grimness. “So good that we now have an employee whose sole job is to find ways to discredit him every time his Ugly Truth e-zine goes up with way too many things the public isn’t ready to know.”

I wasn’t convinced a reporter would help. Especially one who blitzed the Internet with supernaturally sensitive information, but far be it for me to leave any stone unturned.

“So you’re going to apprehend this modern-day Morpheus and talk him into aiding our cause?”

Tate’s mouth curled. “No, Cat. You are, because for starters, he happens to be in Ohio.”





Chapter Seven

I gazed at the narrow road in front of us, thick trees on either side giving the area a naturally secluded feel.

“Of all the places, figures he’d come here,” I muttered. “If we’re even let in the door, I’ll be amazed.”

Bones slanted a grin my way as he steered the car off the road onto a gravel drive. An open gate about a mile ahead was the only indicator that this road led to something other than a dead end.

“We’ll get in. Trust me.”

Once we were through the chain-link gate, a large warehouse came into view. From the outside, it looked abandoned, windows boarded up and only a few scraps of trash in the empty parking lot. If I didn’t have supernatural hearing, I wouldn’t have caught the music wafting out from the soundproofed walls, but snatches of songs rode on the wind as unseen doors periodically opened.

Bones drove around to the back. Once behind the warehouse, another parking area came into view, this one packed with cars. Because of its unusual clientele, the real entrance to the club was here, the decrepit warehouse image in front set up only to discourage motorists accidentally passing by.