Bone Crossed (Mercy Thompson #4)(41)
And I hoped it was Stefan, because I was going to stay here until I helped... somehow.
"No," I told Chad casually, "I wasn't lying about the vampires." I thought I wouldn't mention I'd received it last night if he didn't think of that himself. He didn't need to be worrying about vampires as well as ghosts.
"I shouldn't have told you about it," I said. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell your folks. The vampires like it better if no one knows they're around. And they take measures to ensure that is true."
He looked at me for a moment. Then he zipped an imaginary zipper across his lips, locked an invisible lock, and threw the key behind his back: some things are universal.
"Thank you." I put the cap on my toothbrush and packed up my bathroom kit. "Any more trouble last night?"
He shook his head and wiped a wrist across his forehead to wipe off imaginary sweat.
"Good. Do you get much activity from your ghost during the day?"
He shrugged, waited a moment, then nodded.
"So I'll talk to your mom and maybe go for a jog." No running in coyote form in the city, especially when my efforts to stay out of James Blackwood's way had already failed so spectacularly. But if I didn't run most days, I started to get cranky. "And then we can stake out your room for a while. Is there anywhere else the ghost visits?"
He nodded and mimed eating and cooking.
"Just the kitchen, or the dining room, too?"
He held up two fingers.
"Fine." I checked my watch. "Meet you here at eight sharp." I went back to my room, but I didn't catch Stefan's scent or anything out of the ordinary. Nor was there any sign of my necklace. Without it, I had no protection against vampires. Not that it had done me much good last night.
RUNNING IN THE CITY IS NOT MY FAVORITE THING. STILL, the sun was shining, making it unlikely that I'd run into a vampire for a while. I ran for about a half hour, then made a beeline for Amber's house.
Her car was gone from the driveway. She had things to do, she'd told me - a hair appointment, errands to run, and some shopping. I'd told her Chad and I would amuse ourselves on our own. Still, I'd expected her to wait for me to return. I wasn't sure I'd have left my ten-year-old son alone in a haunted house. However, he seemed unfazed when he met me at the bathroom door just as my watch read 8:00 A.M.
We explored the whole of the old house, starting with the bottom and working our way up. Not that it was necessary or important to explore, but I like old houses and I didn't have any better plan than waiting for the ghost to manifest. Come to think of it, I didn't have any better plan after it manifested.
Banishing ghosts was not something I'd ever tried, and everything I'd read about it over the years (not much) seemed to indicate that doing it wrong was worse than not doing it at all.
The cellar had been redone at some point, but behind a smallish old-fashioned door, there was a room with a dirt floor filled with old wooden milk crates and junk stored down there by some long-ago person.
Whatever its original purpose, it was now the perfect habitat for black widows.
"Wow." I pointed at the far corner of the ceiling with my borrowed flashlight. "Look at the size of that spider. I don't know that I've ever seen one that big."
Chad tapped me and I looked at his circle of light, centered on a broken ladder-back chair.
"Yep," I agreed. "That one's bigger. I think we'll just back out of here and look elsewhere - at least until we have a nice can of spider spray." I shut the door a little more firmly than I might have. I don't mind spiders, and a black widow is one of the beauties of its kind... but they bite if you get in their way. Just like vampires. I rubbed my neck to make sure the collar of my shirt and my hair were still covering my own bite. This afternoon I'd go shopping. I needed to pick up a scarf or high-necked shirt for better concealment before Amber or Corban saw it. Maybe I could find another lamb necklace.
The rest of the basement was surprisingly clean of junk, dust, and spiders. Maybe Amber hadn't been as intimidated by the widows as I'd been.
"We're not trying to find out who the ghost is," I told him. "Though we could do that if you wanted to, I suppose. I'm just looking around to see what I can see. If this turns out to be a trick someone is playing, I don't want to be taken in."
He slashed his hands down in a way that needed no translation, his eyes bright with anger.
"No. I don't think you're doing it." I told him firmly. "If that was faked last night, it was beyond any amateur fiddling. Maybe someone has a bone to pick with your dad and is using you to do it." I hesitated. "But I don't think it was faked." Why would someone plant the smell of fresh blood too faint for a human nose, for instance. Still, I felt obligated to be as certain as I could that no one was playing tricks.
He thought about that for a while, then gave me a solemn nod and pointed out things of interest. A small, empty room behind a very thick door that might have been a cold room. The old coal chute with a box of old blankets placed near the end. I stuck my head in the metal tunnel and sniffed, but only to confirm my suspicions: Chad had been sliding down the coal chute for fun.
His eyes peered worriedly out from under his too-long hair. It didn't look dangerous to me - it looked fun. More fun if no one else knew, I'd had a few places like that when I was his age. So I didn't say anything.