Ghostland

by Jory Strong

  But even guessing at their plan, even knowing if she was successful tonight, there would be no need to search for the ones responsible for Ghost, fear threatened to crowd in. She would have to seek shelter elsewhere. She wouldn’t willingly enter into a contract with the Church and give them leverage over her.

  Aisling kept her worry for the future hidden and held at bay, reminded herself that whoever had destroyed her furnishings hadn’t found and taken the purse of silver coins.

  It would buy her time. The sun pendant at her wrist made her hope the Wainwrights would serve as important allies if the Church threatened her with accusations of practicing black magic.

  She glanced again at the darkening sky and said, “I need to leave now.”

  Father Ursu frowned, perhaps expecting her to cry in fear over the threat of being put out on the street, to beg him to intercede on her behalf. But the darkness held danger for him, too, and he contented himself with saying, “I’ll check in on you in a few days.”

  THE same two bouncers guarded the front door of Sinners. They showed no surprise when Aisling and Zurael approached. But then Aisling suspected they were used to seeing people narrowly escape death, only to return on another night to court it.

  She shivered, preferring the dark and the predators that lurked outside to the ones who glided through the hallways of the restored Victorian. She was acutely aware of the casket-shaped Ghost container in her pocket, of the strangers who even now gathered at the windows of the clubs lining the street in anticipation of a night of excess and violence.

  The bouncer to the left took the offered money. The one to the right opened the door.

  Aisling wiped damp palms against her pants and tried to slow the wild throb of her heart. It would be over soon, she told herself. She—they—could get through what came next. And then her family would be safe.

  She willed herself to slide her hand into her jacket pocket and touch the small metal box. It was the only way. The best way. The surest way to get Ilka and Felipe Glass to answer the questions put to them.

  Aisling’s stomach knotted as she imagined dipping her fingers into the gray substance and then touching them, using Ghost to cast them into the spiritlands in the same way Elena had done to Zurael and her.

  Her skin grew clammy thinking about committing such an act. But by her agreement in the spiritlands, she had to kill them or see them dead if they were guilty of creating Ghost.

  The thought of Zurael going to their home in order to force them to come to her scared her. He’d be vulnerable there. The rich and powerful could afford wards and traps, and if they were truly guilty of making Ghost, then they’d have allies in the spiritlands, entities that might be capable of killing Zurael. She couldn’t bear the thought, couldn’t imagine living with the guilt if he died because of her.

  This was the only way. The best way. But a chill swept through her. Could she really do it? She’d been so sure, so confident when they were miles and hours away from confronting Ilka and her husband.

  In The Barrens she’d revisited those moments in the spiritlands with Ryker. She’d drawn upon the memory of the spirit winds coming to wrap them in an impenetrable cocoon after she’d wished the fog of the ghostlands would block out the sight and sound of his friends calling him. But as they were about to step into Sinners, old doubts assailed her.

  She had no formal training. What if she was wrong? Not just about her ability to summon the winds, but about being able to control the Ghost trip as Elena had claimed to overhear Father Ursu saying.

  There’d be no circle of protection. Nothing to keep malevolent beings from finding her except her faith in those she would call before entering the spiritlands.

  Zurael’s fingers circled her arm possessively as they stepped through Sinners’ doorway. She glanced up at his face and took comfort in the fierceness of his expression.

  Ilka and Felipe wore red again, only tonight it was the color of old blood. Aisling could feel the attention of those gathered on the first floor shift away from the street outside and sharpen with predatory interest on her and Zurael.

  Titters of anticipation formed an undertone to clinking glass and murmured conversation. A few spared glances at Ilka and Felipe.

  As they’d done on their previous visit, Aisling and Zurael moved to the bay window. She settled against him, her back to his chest.

  His arms went around her. His lips trailed tender kisses along her neck.

  The sight of them captured so intimately in the glass mesmerized Aisling. It blocked out the noise, the presence of others.

  Something had changed between them in The Barrens, after the fight with the angel. But she was too much of a coward to speak to him about the future. She was too afraid of learning she’d followed in her mother’s footsteps and, in taking a demon for a lover, had been granted a place in hell.

  A shudder went through her before she could stop it. Zurael’s arms tightened. “We can abandon this plan and make another,” he whispered, misinterpreting the source of her anxiety.

  “No,” she managed, seeing Ilka’s and Felipe’s approaching images in the glass.

  “You’re back,” Ilka purred, eyes bright, gleaming, as if the danger of confronting someone she’d led the vote against, someone who’d survived what waited in the darkness, excited her sexually.

  She leaned forward, offering a glimpse of cleavage, a hint of a nipple. Her fingernails were long, painted red to match her outfit and lipstick. They hovered in the air then slowly descended toward Zurael’s arm.

  Against Aisling’s back he vibrated with suppressed fury, making her think of the steady, unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake before striking. But Zurael allowed Ilka’s hand to settle on him as they’d agreed upon in The Barrens, and Aisling hated the sight of another woman touching him.

  “So this time you’re interested in playing,” Felipe said, following his wife’s lead, leaning forward, stripping Aisling with his eyes.

  It was all she could do to tolerate his nearness. Every cell screamed in protest when he ran his fingers down the line of buttons on her shirt.

  Bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t utter the words necessary.

  “You might say we couldn’t stay away,” Zurael said, his voice low, dangerous, his hand moving lower on Aisling’s belly, his touch possessive, blatantly sexual. “But we don’t intend to be entertainment tonight.”

  Ilka’s laugh was a husky trill of victory. “Everyone’s entertainment here. See and be seen, though I guess you weren’t here long enough last time to understand the fun of Sinners.”

  Her hand slid upward. Her fingers curled around Zurael’s biceps as Felipe’s returned to the top buttons of Aisling’s shirt and freed them, exposing the upper slopes of her breasts.

  “Not here,” Zurael growled, grabbing Felipe’s wrist with snake-like quickness.

  “Somewhere private,” Aisling said, finally managing to break through the paralysis of her revulsion.

  “Hmmm,” Ilka said, shifting her attention to Aisling for the first time and leaning forward so their lips nearly touched. “Privacy is possible, for some. Have you ever been with a woman?”

  “No.” It was barely a whisper.

  “Then I’ll tell you a little secret. It drives men crazy. Turns them into stallions.” She ran her tongue along the seam of Aisling’s mouth as her hand cupped Aisling’s breast. “But you already know what it’s like to be mounted by a stallion, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Aisling said, fighting to accept Ilka’s touch, blanking her mind to it.

  “Not here,” Zurael said, seeming to prove Ilka’s claim by knocking her hand away, then possessively capturing Aisling’s nipple with his fingers, tormenting it until a small moan of pleasure escaped despite their audience.

  Ilka licked her lips. “Ummm, delicious. We’re going to enjoy playing together.”

  “I think privacy is in order,” Felipe said. “At least to begin with. Some treasures aren’t me
ant to be shared—at first.”

  They pushed away from the bay window with perfectly synchronized grace. Felipe offered his arm and Ilka took it. Neither looked back as they walked away, their footsteps unhurried, the crowd parting in front of them as if they were royalty.

  Zurael’s lips found Aisling’s ear. “Do it quickly. I can’t tolerate them touching you.”

  Speculative, appraising glances followed them as they trailed Felipe and Ilka up the stairs and down a hallway that had no doors, until they turned a corner.

  Felipe stopped in front of the only room possessing a door and produced a key. An anticipatory smile formed on Ilka’s dark red lips. Her eyes traveled to the front of Zurael’s pants. “It’s little more than a closet. But I think it’ll be perfect for getting better acquainted.”

  The door swung open. Aisling trembled and felt Zurael’s fingernails sharpen and curl in a hint of the deadly talons they could become. He leaned in, brushed a kiss across her cheek and ear, whispered, “Release me from my agreement, Aisling. Let me do what needs to be done.”

  “No,” she said, and they entered the room.

  It was small, confining. A bed and two chairs took up much of the floor space.

  One of the walls resembled a tack room. It was lined with ropes and leather straps, riding crops and other things Aisling couldn’t identify. Restraints were bolted to a second wall and on the bed frame as well.

  Aisling’s thoughts flashed to when Zurael had tethered her wrists to the bed, to the pleasure she’d found. She met his eyes, saw the hot desire in them, the promise.

  Heat gave way to icy chill when Ilka and Felipe stepped into the room and locked the door behind them. Dark red fingernails settled over Zurael’s heart. “You I think we need to chain to the wall.”

  “No, please. I want him on the bed with us,” Aisling whispered, letting them hear her fear, using it to her advantage as she endured Felipe unbuttoning the front of her shirt.

  Ilka’s attention shifted. Her eyes traveled over the length of Aisling’s bared skin. She licked her lips and reached for a wooden rod studded with metal, pulled it from its place on the wall. “Only if he behaves. Only if you both behave.”

  Felipe’s hands went to Aisling’s shoulders. He started to slide the jacket off so the shirt could follow.

  Her heart tripled its beat. Her breath grew short.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, turning her back to them in a seemingly shy gesture.

  “Delicious,” Ilka purred.

  Aisling’s hands shook as she slipped the small, coffinlike tin from her pocket and tucked it in to her breast band. She shrugged out of her jacket and shirt, baring her upper body except for the fetish pouch and the wide strip of cloth she used to bind her breasts.

  “How quaint and old-fashioned,” Ilka said. “What a lovely blindfold that’ll make. Or maybe we’ll use it as a gag.”

  Aisling carefully unwound the breast band, making sure the Ghost container remained pressed to her skin until the last moment, when both ends of the binding cloth touched her knees. Fear knotted her stomach, but it didn’t stop her from opening the tin and dipping the first two fingers of both hands into the gray substance, then silently calling the names of the entities who’d witnessed when this task was set before her in the spiritlands.

  She let the container and cloth fall to the floor as she turned. She took advantage of Ilka’s and Felipe’s attention being drawn to her exposed flesh, paused only long enough to ensure that Zurael was free of their touch before stepping in to them and grabbing their wrists.

  Understanding flashed in their eyes in the instant the wild rush of the spirit winds jerked their souls from their bodies and hurled them into a swirling, dense fog. Aisling knew her guardians had come to her aid when the gray mist held Ilka and Felipe in unseen restraints.

  Fury and murderous rage gave way to cunning speculation and they stopped struggling. “Aren’t you the clever one,” Ilka said. “It’s rare someone bests us, but apparently we’re your prisoners, for the moment. What do you want? Revenge? No I think you’re far too intelligent to waste such a luscious opportunity on something like that. We can offer so much more.”

  “I want to know if you’re responsible for creating Ghost.”

  Ilka laughed, and her laugh held the supreme confidence of someone who’d always had the security of power and the protection of wealth, who’d believed since birth that the city was her playground and she could do anything she wanted in it.

  Felipe chuckled. “I told my dear wife it was a mistake to vote you out of Sinners. Ilka found it hard to believe we’d been so easily manipulated into doing something not in our best interests. It looks like I’ve been proven right.”

  “What can I say? I got caught up in the moment, as one does at Sinners. Afterwards I regretted it of course, but there was nothing I could do.”

  “True, but I think we can strike a bargain with the shamaness. She’s got a family of sorts, sharecroppers on a farm outside of Stockton I believe my captain said in his report. I suspect she’d like to know they’re not only safe but have the security that comes with owning their own land. Between the guardsmen I control and the real estate your family owns, we can come to a satisfactory arrangement.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Felipe. It’s possible this is her way of getting rid of the competition and taking over the trade in Ghost herself.”

  “True. But somehow I don’t think she intends to eliminate us. I have to go with the situation as I see it.” Felipe made a point of examining Aisling’s nakedness then his own and his wife’s. “I believe play is on the agenda for the night, once we can reach an agreement. And I will point out, even before Aisling’s trip to the library, I did tell you it was a mistake to use those snake-handling religious fanatics to distribute Ghost. It was only a matter of time before someone made the connection and found their way to the Fellowship.”

  Felipe smiled but there was only calculation in his eyes. “For the record, Aisling, I had nothing to do with the bloodhounds being sent after you last night. It was a routine search, even if Father Ursu initiated it. I wasn’t in the office and it didn’t need my approval.”

  Their complete lack of conscience sickened Aisling. Their lack of fear worried her.

  She could feel the spirit winds thickening, buffeting against her as if being pushed back by something fighting to get through the gray barrier forming a protective cocoon around them.

  “Where’s Aziel?” Aisling asked.

  “Aziel?” Felipe’s puzzlement seemed genuine.

  “My pet. The ferret I brought with me to Oakland.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Pain slid through her heart like a knife’s blade. But she believed him. He had little reason to lie and had already demonstrated a complete confidence that he would bargain his way out of a situation that would have left most cringing in terror.

  “Are you responsible for creating Ghost?”

  Ilka’s smile was sly. “We’ve got a silent partner. But you must have already guessed that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have dared use Ghost on us. If we give you his name, will you kill him?” She laughed. “Not that I blame you. Not that Felipe and I would object. We could sell so much more than our partner produces. And you’ll find it’s easier to gather the necessary ingredients with guardsmen helping—especially when some of the ingredients need to be brought in alive. Even in Oakland, where there are plenty of poor and destitute, it’s not all that easy to make someone disappear.”

  Aisling’s stomach lurched and roiled. “Who’s your partner?”

  “Can’t you guess?” Ilka said. A silky taunt.

  And playing back the things they’d said, what had happened the first time she and Zurael visited Sinners, what they’d learned since then, Aisling could.

  It was a mistake to vote you out of Sinners. Ilka found it hard to believe we’d been so easily manipulated into doing something not in our best interests.

  You’
ll find it far more entertaining to vote her out with the others. She’s a shamaness.

  An interesting piece of information, Peter.

  “Peter Germaine,” Aisling said, naming the mayor’s brother, the deputy police chief who was no friend to any human with supernatural gifts.

  Almost as soon as she’d spoken, Aisling thought she must be wrong because he’d have to be gifted to make Ghost. But before the doubt could settle in, Ilka’s expression offered confirmation, and Felipe echoed it by asking, “Now what?”

  The gray wall of fog parted and Elena’s brother stepped through to stand next to Aisling. “Felipe! Ilka! You can’t imagine how glad I am you’re finally here. I should have guessed you had something to do with Ghost.”

  John rubbed his fingers over the cable around his neck as if stroking a dog’s collar. He leaned in so his face was inches away from Felipe’s, but the other man didn’t blink, didn’t seem to see Elena’s brother.

  “Still under Ilka’s thumb?” John asked. “Still letting her call the shots? I’m curious. Did she order my death? Or did you resent losing business to me? A pathetic reason either way. I hardly made any profit supplying entertainment for your guardsmen, not by the time I shaved my rates to undercut yours. But then dear Ilka never did like me, did she? And if I remember correctly, she absolutely loathed my sister—not that I blame her there. I wish dear Elena could join us, it’s the only thing that would make this show better, but I’m still going to enjoy it immensely.”

  He turned to Aisling. “Did you fantasize about me the way I did about you?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To set the stage, my beautiful ang—” The steel cord pulled taut, his back arched, and the tattoos of a lawbreaker stood out in stark relief on his face.

  John went down to his knees. The metal leash grew slack.

  A hint of madness glittered in his eyes. He whispered, “I keep forgetting that where you’re concerned I have to be very, very careful not to offend.”

  He reached for Aisling, as if he’d use her to pull himself to his feet. She stepped back, felt the rub of coarse fur against her bare skin and knew the entity represented by the bear fetish stood behind her.