This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(29)

His lips curled in a way that said he wasn’t worried. “Only means I’d have to work harder to change your mind, and you know how I love my work. Now quit stalling. If you’re still up there in five minutes, I’m tossing you off.”

I slowly uncurled my death grip from the beam. He’d do just what he said, and if I knew Bones, he’d already started the countdown. While common sense said he was right about his reasons for me learning to fly—plus, true, jumping couldn’t kill me even if I belly flopped into the Mississippi—I still cursed him as I edged away from the beam.

“Sneaky, manipulating, merciless bloodsucker . . .”

A chuckle drifted up to me. “Pillow talk already? You’ll have me hard before we’re even back in our room.”

“Well, I hope your hard self enjoys flogging the bishop tonight!” I snapped.

His laughter only increased. “Really, luv, I’m impressed. Wherever did you learn such a salty expression?”

I was a few feet away from the beam I’d held on to, nothing nearby to grasp anymore and only my balance keeping me from tumbling into the dark waters below. Jeez, it really was a long way down.

“From Spade. He was helping Denise brush up on her English slang.”

“Ah, of course. Only three minutes left now, Kitten.”

I looked out at the city’s lights winking across the other side of the bridge, trying to steady my nerves. Even in the dark, I could see the buildings lining the water clearly. Every now and then, spectral forms caught my eye, ghosts seamlessly moving in and out of them and other structures as they went about their phantomy business. New Orleans truly was one of the most haunted places in the world, with more sentient ghosts than anywhere else I’d ever seen. Hell, this was where we’d adopted Fabian from.

“Final minute, luv. No more stalling,” Bones said relentlessly.

Bastard. I straightened my shoulders, took in a deep breath for courage, and then sprang off the ledge of the bridge as if it were a diving board. Instantly my eyes watered with the sting of air whipping at them. Even though I knew this wouldn’t kill me, a rush of panic still filled me as nothing happened except me falling faster toward the river. Almost madly, I began to windmill my arms, as if by doing that they’d suddenly sprout feathers and wing me away. This strategy of his wasn’t working! I wasn’t flying; I was falling like a dropped brick. God, I’d hit that water any moment . . .

My whole body braced for impact when I felt a whoosh and distance abruptly began to grow between me and the river. For a split second, I thought Bones had caught me, deciding at the last moment not to let me crash into the water after all. But just as quickly, I realized I didn’t feel the hard pressure of his arms. No, I felt nothing but the oddest sensation of air cushioning me, like invisible jets had magically appeared to propel me upward. A glance down proved I was now dozens of feet above the river, moving upward with every passing moment, nothing supporting me except those pulsating currents of air.

A wild grin split my face. Holy shit, I was doing it! I was actually flying! That former panic at once turned to elation. I was flying and it was the most amazing feeling. Far, far superior to the occasional dreams I’d had where I could soar without explanation or practice. The air continued to feel different, too. Like it had form that I could mold and manipulate. No longer empty space, but a canvas of opportunities and exhilaration instead.

I looked around, trying to spot where Bones was, when just as suddenly as I’d risen, I began to fall. My arms started doing that mad flapping again, but this time, nothing happened. A dull resignation filled me as I saw the distance disappear between me and the river. Good thing Bones has my leather jacket was my last thought before I landed into the river with a tremendous splash.

The jolt went through my body like a roundhouse kick. My momentum plunged me several feet under water and I came up spitting out the mouthful I’d accidentally sucked in when I gasped at the impact. Bones’s face was the first thing I saw when I resurfaced. He hovered a few feet above me like a beautiful apparition, staring at me with a grin.

“Told you jumping off that bridge would flare up your instincts enough for you to fly.”

I gave a pointed look at the less-than-aromatic river I was floating in. “Yeah, but I’m still in the water, so it didn’t work as well as you thought it would.”

His grin widened. “Never said it wouldn’t take practice before you learned how to keep from crashing.”

I lunged for him, determined to plunge him into the water with me, but he neatly avoided my grab, chuckling. Then he hauled me out of the river by my shoulders. An expertly controlled glide later—showoff—and I was back on the top of the bridge, soaking the metal ledge with my waterlogged clothes.

“All right. Again,” Bones stated.

I glanced down at the river and then back at him, noticing he was far enough away to avoid any other attempts I might make at grabbing him. Before we’re done tonight, I promised him silently, you’re taking a dip in that water with me. Necessity might have prompted him to insist on this extreme form of flying lesson, but his smirk said Bones was getting a kick out of seeing me splat into the river while I struggled to find my vampiric wings.

“I’d forgotten how much you used to enjoy giving me a hard time in training. Take every cheap shot, every low blow, right?”