“So Edgar could do something to Mr. Toulouse?” Lizzie asked, appearing somewhat disappointed that no one had yet explained what foosball was to her.
“I think so.” Cat studied Edgar Dubois’ expression for a moment. He looked thoughtful more than anything else, but he didn’t seem as enthused by the idea of a full frontal assault on Nicholas Toulouse as she’d hoped he would be. “What’s wrong?”
His shoulders lifted slightly. “Nothing. That is, I’m a ghost. The worst has already happened to me. At least, I hope it has. But Lizzie has talked about his threats of banishing her. What if he really does have some way of sending souls to a place outside the world? I stayed here because I didn’t want to leave my wife and daughters behind, but this sort of half-life is still better than utter nothingness.”
A little chill went through Cat, even though the room was slightly stuffy despite the central air conditioning churning away in the background. Still, she tried to sound as confident as she could as she replied, “I honestly don’t think he’s capable of that. It’s just another threat, something to make him seem even more powerful and in control. I’ve spent more than half my life talking to ghosts, and none of them have ever said anything about getting banished from this plane. Either they’re here, trying to work out their issues, or they’ve moved on to the next place.”
“‘The next place’?” Lizzie asked, her face now bright with curiosity. “Do you mean heaven?”
“I suppose you could think of it as heaven,” Cat said. “But it’s not some kind of a reward for a select few. Everyone can move on if they’re ready.”
“Even bad people?”
“Even bad people.” In a way, it was too bad that there wasn’t really a heaven and hell, because if anyone deserved to go to hell, it was Nicholas Toulouse. “The next place is where you can become a better version of yourself.”
Now Lizzie’s tone was plaintive. “Then why didn’t I go?”
“Because you wouldn’t let yourself,” Cat said gently. “Something held you here. Once you figure out what it was…what it still is…then you can move on.”
“Hmm.” The girl walked away from Cat and Edgar, going to stand by one of the windows so she could look down at the cemetery across the street. Her expression was very thoughtful.
“All right,” Edgar said, his voice firm. “I’m willing to try. What did you have in mind?”
“I — I’m not totally sure.” Now that she actually had an ally, Cat realized she hadn’t done much planning. It wasn’t as though she had an attack skill like Celeste’s, something she could use directly against Nicholas Toulouse. “I’m hoping that Loc will come and try to break me out of here, but — ”
“Who is Loc?”
“A-a friend,” Cat faltered, not sure she could adequately explain Loc — or her relationship with him — to this stern-faced man, someone a movie casting director probably would have put in the role of the President, or at least a senator or something. “He’s very powerful.”
“A warlock from your clan?”
“Not — not exactly.”
Edgar Dubois’ steel-blue eyes narrowed slightly, but it appeared he wasn’t going to press the issue, because he said, “Well, I don’t think we can wait around for this Loc. We’ll just have to see what we can do on our own.”
“Um….” Cat hesitated for a moment, not sure whether this plan was the best idea or not. Hedging, she said, “You really think the two of us can do much against him?”
Now Edgar smiled, although there was something thin and cold about that smile, like the calculating grin of a shark. “Oh, it won’t be just the two of us.”
“It won’t?” Cat cast a dubious glance in the direction of Lizzie Beaufort, who still stood by the window. “But Lizzie said she wasn’t able to help us.”
“I’m not talking about Lizzie.” In a few quick strides, Edgar was across the room, where he pulled aside the curtains at the window next to the one where Lizzie lingered, gazing out into the night. Clearly, he could affect the physical world if he wished to. With his free hand, he pointed toward the cemetery across the street.
“I’m talking about them.”
Loc had once again assumed his position on top of one of the mausoleums, keeping the shroud of invisibility around him but taking on his natural form, as it felt more comfortable. In his mind, he kept seeing the haunted faces of the two Dubois witches.
He had to defeat Nicholas Toulouse. Not just to rescue Cat, but to relieve those women of the burden they’d been suffering under for far too long.
As he crouched there, he reached out with the power that lay coiled within him, but delicately, with no more than a feather touch of his magic. It brushed up against the spells that cloaked the house Toulouse had taken for his own, then, ever so gently, began to unwind them, pulling on them as one might tug on a single thread to begin unraveling a sweater.
It was a risk, but one he knew he must take. With a great many spells, they tended to be set by the user and then left alone until such time when they must either be strengthened or undone altogether. Loc could only hope the enchantments that shrouded the house were of this sort, and that Toulouse would notice nothing wrong until it was too late. He did have a great deal to manage, after all, between casting the other spells that maintained the façade of his youth, holding Cat captive, and doing what he must to keep Celeste Dubois occupied.
Really, with all that on his plate, would he notice his spells of protection and concealment slowly falling apart around him?
They had already thinned enough that Loc could now sense the occupants of the house. A dark and malignant pulsing on the ground floor seemed to indicate Nicholas Toulouse’s position, and nearby him was another presence, one lighter and brighter but also somehow muted, as though its power was being damped down somehow. A brilliant glow on the second floor could only be Cat, and Loc experienced a wave of relief then unlike anything else he’d ever encountered. She was alive, and unharmed.
And also…not alone? There were two other presences with her, beings so insubstantial, he couldn’t at first identify what they might be. Then it came to him.
Ghosts.
Her talent was speaking to the spirits of those departed, so Loc supposed he shouldn’t be entirely surprised by her current company. In fact, he hoped she had derived some comfort from their presence, wasn’t as alone in her captivity as he’d feared she would be.
The next thing he realized was that those two ghosts weren’t the only spirits stirring this night. As he watched, dark shapes began to emerge from the sarcophagi and crypts that surrounded him, becoming more substantial after they passed through the walls of the cemetery and began to march with purposeful strides toward the house Nicholas Toulouse occupied.
Loc didn’t know quite how she’d done it, because he hadn’t yet had the privilege of observing Cat as she used her talent. Somehow, though, she’d called out to these ghosts, had reached out to use them as the only weapon she had. Now they were walking through the wall that surrounded Toulouse’s property as though it was made of mist, men and women, some in the uniforms of the war that had been fought on this land so many years ago, others in civilian clothing of every era from the past two hundred years. They had come to answer Catalina’s call, this army of the dead.
Emboldened, Loc spread his wings and took to the air, flying above them, reaching out once again with his magic so he could tear away the last of Nicholas Toulouse’s concealment and protection spells just as the cavalcade of spirits reached the front porch of the house. Instead of following them through the front door, however, he maintained his current course, then swerved off to the side, heading toward the room where he’d sensed Cat’s presence. A heavy enchantment had been placed on the windows there, but it, too, was melting away like mist under the morning sun.
A wave of one clawed hand, and the glass in the middle window disappeared, allowing him to enter the room and come to rest on the floor there, wings folding behind him. Sta
nding a few feet away was Cat herself, her beautiful face alive with a mixture of astonishment and joy at his unexpected arrival. To either side of her were the ghosts he had sensed, one a young girl in the extravagant costume of long ago, the other a tall man who stared at him in utter shock.
Before either of the ghosts could say anything, Cat had run forward and thrown herself into Loc’s arms. He held on to her tightly, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, feeling the lush shape of her body pressed up against him. “Are you all right?” he asked in a quick, urgent murmur, all too aware of the two ghosts watching them.
“Yes, I’m fine. Or at least, I’m fine now that you’re here.” She pulled away slightly and sent a quick smile at the two onlookers. “Lizzie, Edgar, this is Loc.”
“Edgar?” Loc repeated, looking closely at the male ghost. “Edgar Dubois?”
“Yes.” The man straightened and did his best to appear composed, although it was fairly obvious he was still a bit shaken by the sudden appearance of a demon in their midst.
Well, that could be remedied easily enough. Loc transformed into his human shape, eliciting a gasp from Lizzie and a raised eyebrow from Edgar.
“Your wife will be glad to know that you are here and ready to fight,” Loc said.
A sudden light went over Edgar’s features. “You’ve seen her?”
“Yes, her and your daughter Martine. They are both well.”
At that point, the conversation was interrupted by a piercing scream coming from somewhere below. Lizzie started, and Edgar exclaimed, looking like he was ready to rush to her rescue, “That sounded like Celeste!”
“Oh, it probably was,” Loc said. While he doubted the ghosts converging on the house would do anything to harm the younger Dubois daughter, they were probably giving her quite a fright. He glanced down at Cat. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Almost. I need to put my boots back on, because it’s time to stomp out this cockroach.”
Although she knew it was a total cliché to say that she’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life, in this case, it was the simple truth. As soon as Cat watched Loc burst through that window, bat wings flapping at the humid air he brought with him, she somehow knew it was going to be okay, and her heart sang with relief.
Well, all right, they still had to figure out a way to face Nicholas Toulouse and bring him down, but that outcome now seemed much easier to achieve, thanks to the presence of her demon lord.
They all went down the stairs, Cat and Loc in the front, Edgar and Lizzie behind them, although Lizzie seemed to lag a bit, as though she wasn’t quite as eager for this confrontation as the rest of them. The bottom floor of the house was filled with a bewildering variety of ghosts, but they all moved out of the way as Cat’s little group approached, possibly understanding that she and Edgar were the ones who had called them.
When they had pushed past the crowd of specters and finally entered the kitchen, Cat saw why Celeste had screamed. A contingent of ghosts in the uniforms of the Confederate army had her and Nicholas Toulouse cornered, their pale faces grim and implacable. She had her hands up and kept pushing at the air, as if she was trying over and over again to use her magical talent to shove the spirits away. However, Cat knew that wouldn’t work, because they were incorporeal, had no physical bodies for her to push against. When ghosts acted upon inanimate objects or the living, it was because they were using the sheer strength of their will, not the physical bodies they once possessed.
Nicholas Toulouse’s warm brown skin didn’t look so warm now, was more a chalky brownish gray. Was that fear, or his youth spell wearing off?
Edgar pushed past her and Loc, his expression pleading. Somehow, the squad of Confederate ghosts knew to part enough so his daughter would be able to see him. “Celeste,” he said, “please get away from Toulouse. He’s not what you think he is.”
Celeste had already been pale with fright, but now she seemed to go even whiter, if that were possible. “D-Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s time for you to go home.”
“But you’re — ”
“Yes, he’s a ghost,” Nicholas Toulouse cut in. “What a protective father you are, Edgar, to remain in the place where you were killed and make sure your dear estranged daughter didn’t come to any harm.”
“You — he — ” Celeste looked wildly from Toulouse to Edgar, the import of her lover’s words beginning to sink in. “You killed him?”
“Of course I did,” Nicholas Toulouse said, his tone so off-hand, he might as well have been talking about a fly he had swatted. “He was making a nuisance of himself.”
“You — ” She raised her hands, but Toulouse caught her by both wrists, holding her in place.
Voice silky, he said, “I thought you told me you’d renounced your family, that you didn’t care what happened to them.”
Edgar moved forward, face white with rage. “Let go of her!”
“Or you’ll do what, ghost?”
“This.”
It wasn’t the most elegant tackle in the world, but it did catch Toulouse off-guard, causing him to stumble and let go of Celeste’s arms. She backed away, shaking, and Loc took advantage of the dark warlock’s moment of distraction to grab her by the wrist and yank her away from his grasp.
“Watch her for me,” he commanded, stepping forward so he could join the fray.
Startled, Cat took Celeste by the hand, since she didn’t quite know what else to do. It appeared that the other witch wasn’t in any hurry to get back to her lover’s side, because she remained where she was, body still trembling.
Good thing that Loc had decided to take action, because Nicholas Toulouse now had his hands locked around Edgar’s throat, was somehow holding him with his feet dangling several inches off the ground, even though technically he shouldn’t have been able to hold Edgar at all. Grabbing a ghost was like grabbing a handful of air.
But somehow the dark warlock had managed that feat. Not for long, though, as Loc made a waving motion with one hand that slammed Toulouse up against the wall, holding him there like a bug stuck to a piece of cardboard with a pin. Edgar reeled away, gasping, and staggered over to where Celeste stood next to Cat.
There wasn’t any time to ask him whether he was all right, though, because a strange red glow began to work its way down Loc’s arm, the one that held Nicholas Toulouse in place. Loc gave a grunt of pain, but he didn’t let go.
“Clever,” he said, and, to Cat’s surprise, he even smiled. “But although human flesh clothes me, I am not human, warlock, and your petty spells will not stop me.”
A brilliant white light flared out of nowhere, and the red glow was gone. Toulouse’s strange, pale eyes narrowed in fury.
“This fight is not yours, demon,” he said. “Besides, we had a deal.”
“Did we?” Loc asked, his face a study in innocence. “I don’t recall ever committing to a formal agreement.”
“It was implied,” the warlock gritted.
“Ah, well, it seems we have suffered a misunderstanding here. Those books are far too valuable to give to a petty charlatan like you, so they will stay where they are.”
Toulouse’s hands clenched into fists, although he was so thin, they looked more like claws. “Very well, demon. Stay here and rot. Stay and watch that body you wear crumble as old age tears at it, stay and watch as that young woman you probably think you care for becomes old and wrinkled and not so lovely anymore. You would give up your kingdom for that?” He sent a venomous glance in Cat’s direction, as though he thought she was to blame for Loc’s change of heart.
Maybe she was. And thank God for that.
Loc smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners with sudden amusement. “You think I fear old age? I know what awaits me, Toulouse, but unlike you, I am willing to accept all the changes that come with a mortal life.” He looked over at Celeste and his smile faded, replaced by a reddish glint in his dark eyes. “Perhaps you do not know what your lover was
hiding from you. He offered you excitement and rebellion, an attractive way to thumb your nose at your family. Unfortunately, he is not quite as handsome as he would like you to believe.”
“No — ” Toulouse put up a hand.
But while he might have been a powerful warlock, he was no match for Loc’s unearthly powers. Loc placed his hand on the man’s forehead, and it was as though he was drawing out of him all the unnatural youth he’d stolen for himself by means of forbidden magic and unholy potions. Lines and cracks appeared in his face, and his thin form grew even more gaunt. In less than a moment, his head was little more than a skull, and as Cat — and probably Celeste — looked on in horror, he at last crumbled into a pile of dust at Loc’s feet.
And in that same instant, the watching ranks of ghosts also disappeared, as if they now knew there was no reason for them to stay any longer.
Well, almost all the ghosts. Lizzie stood where she’d been this whole time, a few feet behind Cat, and Edgar remained standing next to his daughter, who now had a hand held up to her mouth. Maybe she’d meant to scream and then realized there was no point.
Loc turned back toward all of them, then wiped his hands on his jeans, clearly doing his best to get rid of Nicholas Toulouse’s dusty remains. “He was a very old and very powerful warlock,” he said, his tone strangely gentle. “He hid what he was by means of terrible potions, blood spells he used to create a façade of youth and vigor.”
Celeste swallowed, face still pale. The black cat-eye liner she wore stood out in harsh contrast to her pallor. “He was always telling me to stay out of the kitchen.”
That made sense. Cat somehow doubted Toulouse would have wanted his girlfriend to see what he was cooking in there.
Edgar turned toward his daughter. “You’re going to go home now, aren’t you?”
Her lips pressed together. “D-daddy, I’m so sorry. If I’d known Nicky was capable of any of this — ”
Oh, she’d probably known. Cat had a feeling Celeste Dubois would never admit it to herself, but on some level, she must have realized how ruthless Nicholas Toulouse actually was. But that was something she’d have to work out with her family. It certainly wasn’t Cat’s place to comment here.
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