“Oh, I learned that way before I trained to be a bodyguard.”
There was so much she didn’t know about him. Then again, did she want to know Jasper Gray? Undoubtedly, he would only hurt her again. And even if she did open her heart, it would only put him in danger. Her kind couldn’t love.
“Hand me some coins. I’ll go in,” Starling said, trying to think about anything but how close they were to one another.
Jasper pulled the money out of his pocket and handed it over.
Sliding through the barely opened gate, Starling walked over to the statue and dropped the money into the little girl’s hand.
Gracie? Please come to me. I need your help. Please.
A child’s laughter filtered through the trees and down on her.
Sweetheart, are you here?
There was a tug on Starling’s pants leg. Looking down, she couldn’t see anything, but her skin was cold.
“Hi, Gracie. It’s nice to meet you.”
Hi… The little girl answered shyly. Can you see me?
Starling shook her head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could, but I’m not magic. I can only talk to you.”
Did you come to play?
“Would you like to?” she asked.
It’s been a long time since someone wanted to play.
“What do you like? Do you know ‘Ring Around the Rosie?’” She couldn’t miss the irony in singing a children’s song about the dying with a dead girl.
I love that song. But we need someone else to fall with us. What about the man?
Starling turned to Jasper. “She wants you to help us sing the song. You up for it?”
He made his way into the little yard that surrounded the girl’s grave, but his eyes scanned the square like he was searching for something. “Sure,” he said, sounding apprehensive.
“It’s okay, she won’t hurt you.” Starling turned back to the girl’s statue. “You won’t hurt my friend Jasper, will you?”
Nuh uh, ma’am. But there are others here who are bad. They do bad things. They hurt people.
Chills ran down Starling’s spine. “Who are these others, Gracie?”
The bad ones.
Starling’s hand turned cold as the ghost must have slipped her icy hand into hers.
Let’s not talk about them; let’s just dance.
Reaching over, Starling slipped her free hand into Jasper’s. He glanced down at his other hand. “My fingers are cold. Does that mean she’s touching me?”
Starling nodded. “It’s a strange feeling, isn’t it?”
Jasper’s face was pale as he nodded.
“You okay with this?”
“I’m fine,” he said, but the color didn’t return to his face.
Ring around the rosies, Gracie sang.
Starling nudged Jasper as she picked up the song. “Pockets full of posies. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.” Starling fell to the ground, her head landing in Jasper’s lap.
“Sorry.” She sat up and away from Jasper’s touch.
“It’s okay,” he replied.
The girl’s laughter filled the silence. That was fun. Let’s do it again!
“Gracie, I am looking for a collection of books. Can you help me?”
The girl’s laughter stopped. What books?
“They’re called the Libros Umbrarum. Have you heard of them?”
Yes.
“Do you know where I can find them?”
The girl didn’t answer.
“I need them. The spirits have told me that they will help me gain control over the voices I hear. Please?”
Starling tried to quell her nerves. Gracie was only a little girl—there was no guarantee that she could, or would, help. If she didn’t, they would be left at square one—no answers and the fear of attack. “Gracie, did you hear me?”
They’re with the bad people. I don’t want to go there.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. You can stay right here and keep singing while we go, but you need to tell me where the books are, sweetheart.”
Jasper gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off. “Where are the books, honey?”
The cold returned in Starling’s hand followed by a light squeeze.
“Are you going to show me?”
There was a tug on her arm and Starling moved in the direction the little girl urged, summoning her courage for the sake of the child. Jasper followed as they made their way down the path and toward an archangel. The angel looked down on the grass, its wings spread slightly open, as if any moment it would take flight to the heavens. Her hands were open, palms up, ready to receive. At the base of the angel, the grave marker read: Avi Mortem, December 12, 1896.
“Jasper, have you ever heard of this Avi?” Starling whispered.
He shook his head.
The tugging stopped as they came within a step of the angel.
Put your hand in hers. Gracie squeezed Starling’s fingers.
Reaching up, Starling slipped her hand into the angel’s.
“Now what?” Starling asked.
You have to say the special words. You have to say: Avi Mortem, find comfort in the arms of the wicked and solace where no other dares. Mortem. Genus. Honor.
Starling repeated the chant and as the last word rolled from her tongue, the angel’s stony fingers trembled. In what seemed like slow motion, the marble wings opened, exposing a long set of stairs leading below ground.
She stepped to the top of the stairs and looked down. A cold breeze blew upward from the cavernous black abyss at her feet. She took a step down.
“No.” Jasper stopped her. “You can’t do this. You have no idea what you are going to find down there.”
“What choice do I have, Jasper?” She could have been hurtling toward her death, but if she didn’t act, she would go crazy. “I can’t quit now when I’m so close.”
“Do you really think you can trust Gracie? How do you know she isn’t trying to lure you into a trap?” Jasper looked around like he was waiting for the ghostly child to kick him in the shins. “You said the spirits have been threatening you. Not everyone is good.”
She reached over and took Jasper’s hand. “And regardless of what you may think, not everyone is bad. Sometimes you just have to have faith that everything will turn out all right.”
Chapter Nine
The wind kicked up, sending a damp chill through the graveyard. Yet the chill on his skin was nothing compared to the chill in his soul. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find Starling’s spirit of hope. Everything wouldn’t turn out all right. It never did. No matter how hard you tried to avoid trouble or keep people safe, bad things always seemed to have a way of happening—but not this time.
“You can’t go down there, Starling. You need to stay here, where it’s safe.”
She stared at him like he had lost his mind. “You can’t tell me what to do, Jasper.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” he said, looking down at the way her hand fit perfectly into his palm. “I want to keep you from getting hurt, that’s all. I’ll go down there. You just yell whatever Gracie tells you. That way at least I know you won’t be put into any more danger. Please, can you do that for me?”
Starling stepped back from the stairs, a look of shock on her face. “I’m only staying up here because you asked like you did. But if I call and you don’t answer, or something happens, I’m coming down there. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Agreed?”
He let go of her hand. “Got it, but you stay safe, too, okay?”
“I’m surrounded by my people,” Starling said waving at the rows of the dead. “And Gracie’s got my back. Nothing to worry about. Don’t trip going down the stairs.” She smiled tentatively, but her gaze moved steadily around their surroundings, like she was taking over his job as bodyguard.
He descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing. “Gracie saying anything?”
“Not yet,” she yelled down.
The narrow
stairwell smelled of wet decay, like rotting leaves after a fall storm. Was it the earth around him, or the bodies that lay entombed in that ground creating the smell? The thought made goose pimples rise on his arms. It wasn’t death that scared him; no, he’d been around the dying enough to become accustomed to the rainbow bridge. It was something more, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the permanence or the fear of what came after. Regardless, every cell of his body screamed for him to get out of this cellar in the cemetery.
“Where are the books?” Jasper yelled up toward Starling as he continued downward and deeper in the all-consuming darkness.
Starling mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear. “Gracie says you need to look in the farthest room. She isn’t sure exactly where.”
Shit.
“Got it.” Jasper took his cell phone out of his pocket and clicked on the light. He reached the bottom and the stairwell opened into a rectangular room that reminded him of the mausoleums they had passed in the cemetery. In the corner of the room was a small basin next to a concrete slab. In front of him, two chairs were set up against the wall, and between them was a wooden door about five feet tall, but the room was otherwise empty.
For the first time since he’d flown into Savannah, he wished he had brought his gun. Crossing the room was like walking naked through a high school, waiting for the cheerleading squad to spot his pale ass.
“You okay up there?” he called, trying to ignore his growing trepidation.
“Yep,” Starling answered in a clipped voice.
He twisted the door handle. The door opened with a creak he’d only heard in horror movies. Shining the light in front of him, this room looked as empty as the first, and he stepped through the door.
It squeaked shut behind him.
Jasper spun around, reaching down over the side of his waist for a gun that wasn’t there. “What the fuck?” He shined the light around the room, but the little cell phone light failed to brighten much. “Who’s here?”
There was no answer.
Damn spirits.
“Starling, can you tell your people to lay off?” he yelled.
There was no answer from above. He tried to tell himself that the door must have muffled his sound, but his heart pounded.
It was too much. He wanted to help her, but he shouldn’t have come down here—at least not without an exorcist. He reached for the door handle.
He twisted the brass handle, but as it turned, the knob fell off into his hand. “Son of a bitch …”
“Starling?” He yelled at the top of his lungs, letting the brass knob drop to the ground with a metallic thump. “I need help! The door broke!” He tried to ignore his racing heart and the fact that he was stuck underneath a haunted graveyard in a room no one besides he, Starling, and a ghost knew existed.
“Starling!”
No answer.
He pressed his ear against the cold door to listen for footsteps, but there was nothing. Not a sound.
Lowering his cell phone, he scrolled through his contacts, clicked on Starling’s name, and pressed send. The phone flashed and an error message popped up reading: No Service. As soon as he got out of this hole in the ground, he would be having words with his cell phone company. Then again, what would he tell them—that he’d been stuck in a grave and didn’t have service? Maybe not.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to center himself. He pushed on the door, but it didn’t move. Using the little nub where the handle had been, he tried to get a hold and pull, but the door didn’t budge.
“Starling!” But his voice only echoed through the room, and all he could hear was the fear in his voice.
Now wasn’t the time to freak out. His training had prepared him for this … this … entrapment.
Adrenaline poured into his system. Taking ten steps back, he ran forward and launched his shoulder into the stubborn door. Pain coursed through him as he reeled back from the hit.
“Don’t tell me the fucking door is haunted,” he said aloud.
It’s not, a man answered.
“What the fuck?” Jasper turned and pressed his back against the wall. “Who’s here?”
Silence.
“Who is here? Answer me now or I’ll start shooting,” he warned, reaching down to his side, trying to fake carrying a gun.
Come now, the man said, we both know you do not possess a sidearm.
Fuck.
He aimed his light in the direction of the voice but met only more darkness.
“What do you want?” he asked the mysterious voice.
I wish to receive answers…
“Come into the light,” Jasper ordered, as he tried to steady the phone’s light in front of him. “I want to know who I’m talking to.”
Are you sure that is what you want? Most don’t wish to see me or my kind.
What was that supposed to mean? “Who are you?”
I’m the thing that children fear in the night. I’m the shadow that seems to change form in front of your eyes, the thing at the edge of your vision. I’m the feeling in your gut when you think you are being watched.
“Don’t play games with me.”
Oh, I’m going to do much more than play games with you. The man’s voice became a whisper.
A shiver ran down Jasper’s spine. “Where the fuck are you?”
He frantically patted at his waist and then his pockets, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. The only thing he had besides his wallet was the phone in his hand. If the man in the room really was a ghost, there was little he could do to protect himself physically, with or without a weapon. Yet, if the man was a real, tangible being, he was willing to do anything to keep himself safe so he could get back up to Starling.
You can’t see me? I’m right here …
Something ruffled Jasper’s hair on the side of his head. He jerked the light around, but there was nothing only more darkness. “Real funny. Let me out of here.”
Not before I take what I need.
“What do you need?” Jasper gripped his phone tighter, trying in vain to stop the light from shaking in his hand.
I need your body, the man whispered into his ear.
An icy energy seeped into his ear, seeped down his neck. He tried to move, but the cold energy moved deeper, taking over his limbs.
“Stop. Don’t. Just tell me what you want! I have to protect Starling. You can’t do this!”
I can do whatever I please. You must do my bidding. I need to find my revenge. Is that not why you are here? To be my slave? They told me you were coming.
The cold moved up his face. “They?” he forced the word from his numb lips.
Your friends. The vultures. The man laughed. By the way, they send their warmest regards. They are looking forward to receiving the ugly duckling, Starling.
• • •
“Jasper?” There was no answer. Her footsteps echoed as she raced down the marble stairwell. The swamp-scented darkness swallowed her, forcing her to stop and pull her phone from her purse. “Jasper, where are you?”
She flicked on the flashlight. Lifting the light, she peered beyond its glow. Standing in the light, shielding his eyes, was Jasper.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy.
“I told you I would come down at the first sign of trouble. You agreed.”
He eyed her like he was forming some kind of plan. “Fine,” Jasper answered, but his voice remained far from his baritone.
“Are you okay, Jasper?”
Jasper walked by her, bumping her as he made his way past and up the stairs.
“Jasper?” She turned and jogged up the stairs after him. “What’s going on? What was down there?”
He didn’t slow down or bother to answer.
“What in the hell?” She grabbed him by the arm, trying to get him to stop.
Jasper turned. His lips were curled up, like a feral dog ready to bite. “Do not touch me again, Jezebel.”
“Nothing more than I do not have time for you. Go find yourself another … lover.”
Jasper had never called her his lover. Something wasn’t right. “Did you find the books?”
He frowned at her. “I care nothing of books. Or you. So be gone.”
He stepped out of the open wings of the angel and into the night. This person walking away from her looked like Jasper, but he couldn’t possibly be the same man who had put himself at risk by going underground.
I’m sorry, Gracie said. I didn’t know…
“You didn’t know what, Gracie?”
Starling felt the little girl throw her arms in a hug around her waist. I didn’t know he would be taken.
She looked down, but there was nothing to see that indicated the ghostly child held her aside from feeling her touch. “Is he,” Starling motioned toward the man with her chin, “Jasper, or is this some other magical being?”
It’s Jasper, but Edward has taken over his body.
Who’s Edward?
The bad one.
She tried not to lose her patience with the child. It wasn’t Gracie’s fault that she didn’t understand.
“Sweetheart, why would Edward want to take over Jasper?”
I dunno. He always talks about his wife and what a powerful woman she was. I don’t like him. He’s always yelling.
The gravel crunched as Jasper made his way through the cemetery, making a beeline for the nearest street.
“Jasper, stop!” Starling yelled after.
The man kept walking.
“Edward, stop! I can help you if you let me.”
The man turned on his heel. “How do you know my name?”
“Wait for me!” she hollered across the cemetery.
She stepped out of the ghostly girl’s arms. “You stay here. Stay safe, Gracie.”
I’ll miss you, Starling.
The girl’s words pulled at her heart’s strings. “I’ll be back, honey. Don’t worry; we’ll play.”
Gracie didn’t answer, but Starling had to go. “I’ll be back. Really.”
She jogged across the cemetery, careful to step around the rectangular graves.
Jasper stood waiting. “How do you know my name?”
The Nymph's Curse: The Collection Page 66