by Linsey Hall
“Nope. He dropped them off this morning. He knows we don’t have a lot of time to spare.” Not now that demons were spilling out of the portal that the Shadows had forced me to create.
I followed Roarke out of the shop and to his car, which waited at the curb in front of Scooter. As we drove, I explained to him what had happened with Madam Melephonus.
“Sounds like an odd duck, that one,” he said as he parked near Mad Mordecai’s, our preferred Underpath entrance.
“She was. But I liked her.”
“You would.” He grinned. “You like the odd ones.”
“I like you, don’t I?”
He laughed, then pulled me toward him and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.
I pushed him away. “Hey, hey. No time for funny business. We’ve got to save the world from my screw-up.”
“You didn’t screw up.”
“Debatable.” I climbed out of the car into the chill winter air. Roarke followed and we crossed the street. I handed him one of the invisibility potions. “Let’s not drink these until we know we need them. Who knows how long this will take.”
“Good plan. Last thing we need is for it to wear off at the wrong time.”
“No kidding.” Like all magic, the potion had its downside. Sneaking into a dangerous situation and then suddenly becoming visible was a giant bummer.
By now, I was an old hat at traveling through the Underpath. I followed Roarke into the smelly alley, took his arm, and stepped into the whirlwind ether that sucked me through space all the way to Savannah, Georgia.
When we stepped out into the dark night, my lurching stomach finally settled. The air was cool here, though not as cold as it had been in Portland, and a heavy moon shined brightly on the cemetery in front of us.
“Whoa,” I breathed.
Sprawled out in front of us was the creepiest, most magnificent cemetery I’d ever seen. Massive oak trees dripped Spanish moss overtop of thousands of ornate headstones and sarcophagi. Barren bushes, long gone from their summer blooms, crouched near the gleaming white tombs. Crickets and other night bugs set up a racket as the leaves rustled in the wind. The scent of dirt and water were strong.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Bonaventure Cemetery. Largest one in Savannah. Famous, too.”
“I can see why.” It was a place that was so beautiful, and so strange, that people would come from all over to visit. Weird people, but people. I was one of them. “At least it’s quiet.”
“This isn’t Oriamor, that’s for sure.”
He was right. There were no demons, just an eerie chill in the air that I’d bet my trove was from ghosts. “No. But I don’t think we’re too far off. My dragon sense is pulling us toward the water, I think.”
“We’re near a wide river.”
“Hope we don’t have to cross. I’m not really up for a swim this close to gator territory.” My scare back in the Everglades had given me my fill. They’d been pretty friendly, but their teeth had been damned big.
I set off across the uneven ground, trying to avoid stepping over graves. Roarke followed, and we stuck to the paths whenever possible, but the most direct route was sometimes across the graves. Magic shivered on the air, something strange that I’d never felt before. It was dry and cold. Freaking creepy.
“Horrible magic,” I muttered.
“Ghosts.” Roarke pointed.
I peered in the direction he indicated, making out the pale gray forms of ghosts in the distance. If I strained my ears, I could hear heckling. The jeering tones were unmistakable.
“Are those ghosts chasing another ghost around a sarcophagus?” I squinted, just able to make out a man dressed in a nice suit and hat, being chased by a group of people. The group was pissed, if their cries were any indication.
“He must have been an asshole in life,” Roarke said.
“No kidding. Made plenty of enemies.”
We hurried on, skirting around the scene and leaving the angry ghosts to their vengeance. Whatever that guy had done to them in life, they wanted their piece of his hide.
A massive obelisk loomed to our right, piercing the night sky like some dead guy’s version of a Ferrari or other status symbol.
“Lotta rich dudes here.” The words had just left my mouth when I caught sight of a girl standing at the base of the obelisk. Her back was to us, but she wore a thin blue dress and had long braids down her back. For a moment, I thought she was a ghost. But her dark skin shook some sense into me. She wasn’t nearly transparent enough to be a ghost.
Not only was her silent presence a bit creepy, but eerie magic radiated from her, a signature that I’d never felt before.
“Quickly,” I whispered as I hurried by her. I didn’t want to tangle with that girl. Not only was she possibly grieving—or doing weird magic—she was powerful. No need to borrow trouble.
Roarke and I hurried as silently as we could, leaving the girl behind. I was so focused on putting as much distance between myself and the girl that I missed the prickly magic that raced over my skin.
Magic crackled with energy as we stepped over an invisible tripwire.
“Shit!” My gaze skated over our surroundings.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then a low, sonorous voice echoed through the night. “Be gone.”
Chapter Two
“No problem,” I muttered as I hurried between two massive headstones. “Sure as heck don’t want to meet you.”
“Be gone.” The voice rumbled low again.
I hurried my pace, Roarke just behind me as we weaved in between the headstones.
“To the left.” Roarke’s low voice dragged my gaze in that direction.
Silvery gray forms were climbing out of the ground right in front of gravestones, their forms withered and terrifying. They were like zombies and ghosts combined, with a chilly magic that froze the blood in my veins.
But these were no zombies. They were all ghosts, and they were fast. Within seconds, a dozen had climbed out of the ground, their ravenous black gazes on us.
“These guys are bad news.” I’d only ever encountered neutral or helpful ghosts. These were anything but neutral.
As Roarke shifted into his demon form, I let my Phantom magic flow through me. It glowed blue and bright in the dark night, so different than the pale gray ghosts that flowed toward us.
I drew my sword from the ether as they neared, swiping out for the nearest attacker. My blade passed right through it.
“Shit!” My blade always had an effect on Phantoms. But not the ghosts?
The creature reached for me with skeletal hands, its ragged cloak whipping about its form. Black eyes seared into me as it clutched my shoulders. Icy electricity shot from its hands, right into me.
I thrashed, trying to throw it off, but failed. The thing clung hard to me, shooting its icy electric pain through me. At my side, Roarke fought two more ghosts. He managed to throw them off, but couldn’t kill them. They were wounded—moving slowly and limping—but apparently Roarke couldn’t kill the dead, no matter what Underworld magic he possessed.
My ghostly attacker dragged me to the ground. Would he try to pull me through? Panic made my heart beat like a thousand drums.
“Roarke!” I cried.
Roarke threw off another ghost, sending the form flying through the air. It wouldn’t stay gone for long, that was damned sure, but it gave Roarke time to yank me away from the ghost who was wrapping his horrible arms around me.
I shuddered and righted myself, stumbling away from Roarke.
“We have to run!” No way we could fight these things.
But they surrounded us, ravenous beasts that wanted to feed on…us?
I didn’t know how they planned to do it, but after that one ghost’s terrible embrace, I didn’t want to know more.
“There are too many.” A ghost flung itself at Roarke as the words left his lips.
He grimaced, then grabbed the thing and thr
ew it off. Another lunged for me, wrapping electric arms around my waist. I thrashed and kicked, trying to heave it off of me, but it did no good. My Phantom magic was worthless with ghosts, and Roarke could only wound them, probably because he was Warden of the Underworld and dead things were his jam. But these dead things walked the earth, not the Underworld, so he couldn’t kill them. Somehow they were different than the Phantoms he’d managed to dispatch—a magic that neither of us understood.
Two more ghosts lunged for me while another four went for Roarke. They were on us before we could blink, dragging us to the ground.
Fear pounded in my chest as I struggled within the ghost’s electric grasp.
“Can’t break their hold!” I gasped.
Roarke threw a couple off of himself, but two more came.
We were doomed. These ghosts were more powerful than any I’d ever seen, and there were so many that we stood no chance.
Electricity was coursing through me, a thousand shocks that weakened my muscles as the spirits worked their terrible magic.
“Halt!” A powerful voice flowed through the graveyard, prickling the hair at the nape of my neck. The ghosts froze, their arms still wrapped around me and sending pain racing through my limbs.
“Step away from them.” The voice was feminine, I realized.
The ghosts obeyed, unwrapping their arms and drifting away from me. But their hungry black gazes stayed glued to me. Even their jaws hung open, as if they were salivating for a taste.
Roarke and I scrambled to our feet. The girl with the long braids raced toward us, her amber eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Hurry!” she cried. “I cannot hold them for long. We must run.”
She was graceful and swift, a gazelle of a girl who knew this land as well as the rabbits and squirrels that lived here. I raced after her, Roarke at my side. The pain slowed me at first, but slowly, it faded and I ran faster, barely keeping up with the girl as her blue dress whipped in the wind.
We followed our savior across the graveyard, dodging headstones and monuments, leaping over flowers and low walls. When I risked a glance over my shoulder, I caught sight of the ghosts, now unfrozen and following us across the graveyard. They were still a ways off, thank fates, so we had a chance.
I sprinted harder, panting as I chased the girl. She led us out of the graveyard and to the woods, not stopping until we were near a ramshackle house crouched between enormous oaks.
Breathing hard, I asked, “What were those things?”
The girl turned. She was pretty, probably only twenty years old, and she was barefoot.
“Haints.” Her voice rolled with the southern drawl of Savannah. “Evil spirits with unfinished business. They can’t leave Bonaventure. We’re safe here in the woods.”
“Thanks for saving us.” I wanted to ask what her magic was, but didn’t dare. It seemed rude, and I didn’t want to mess with this girl.
She inclined her head. “You’re not from around here.”
“No.” I stuck out a hand. “Del Bellator.”
She took it, her handshake firm. “Aleta Indigo.”
Roarke shifted back to human form before sticking out his hand. “Roarke Fallon.”
Roarke and Aleta shook hands, then she looked at me. “You’re different. You’re magic… It’s…” Her eyes widened. “You’re Phantom. But that’s not possible. You look human.”
“Um…” Gee, I was handling this well.
“We’re not too fond of Phantoms around here. Best you keep that to yourself.”
No one was fond of Phantoms, so I wasn’t surprised. But at least Aleta wasn’t running off. She seemed too brave to be afraid of me anyway.
“What are you here for?” she asked.
“I’m looking for a place called Oriamor.” So far, I’d seen no demons and definitely no portal, so something was up. My dragon sense was never wrong, but this smelled fishy.
“Never heard of it.” Her sharp gaze darted left.
I turned to see her looking at the small house behind me. A patch of red flashed in the window.
“Oh, hell no,” Aleta muttered.
I turned back to her as she took off running toward the house, her thin blue dress flapping in the wind. She was quick, reaching the house in seconds and scrambling through the open window.
“This girl is kinda nuts.” I hurried after her, Roarke at my side.
“Seconded,” he said as we pulled to a halt at the window.
I peered into a bedroom. A horrifying, red-skinned person crouched on the bed, looming over a prone body. It took a moment to register that the person had no skin—the bright red was their skinless form. Muscles, tendons, and arteries were all visible and blood red. Evil magic welled from the beast, smelling like rot and tasting like death.
The beast was killing that person in the bed! I didn’t know how, but it was clearly stealing its life force.
Aleta stood beside the horrible scene. Her strange magic swelled on the air, a signature that I still couldn’t identify. A moment later, the creature on the bed was flung off by an invisible force. It shook itself like a dog, then hurtled from the room, straight out the window.
Toward me.
I ducked, but it was too late. The monster slammed into me. Its flesh was warm and slippery and felt distinctly like raw meat. Ugh.
I crashed to the ground beneath it, my heart pounding. I thrashed, kicking and punching. No way this monster was going to suck the life from me. The creature’s grip was insanely strong as it pulled at my arms. I’d never felt a creature so powerful. Agony raced over my body. My skin felt like it was separating from muscles where the beast pulled at me.
I shrieked as Roarke pulled it off of me. It took him several tries—the creature was as strong as he was.
As soon as I was free, I leapt up, ignoring the pain in my shoulders as I drew my sword from the ether. I lunged for the creature that Roarke held in front of him, stabbing my blade into its gut and yanking it free to swipe it across the monster’s neck. The head toppled to the ground.
Panting, I stumbled back as it rolled to me.
“What the hell is that thing?” Roarke threw the body away from himself.
“No clue.” Stomach churning, I dragged my gaze away from the head and looked into the house.
Aleta was bent over the person on the bed, checking on them. It was a young woman, and she looked mostly okay, though shaken up.
“Don’t let de hag ride ya,” Aleta murmured to the woman, who nodded. “And paint your windowsills and porch ceiling blue. Otherwise, you’re asking for it.”
The woman smiled wryly and nodded again, then Aleta turned and climbed back out the window.
Her gaze fell to the head at my feet. “You killed a Boo Hag.”
“Yes.” I avoided looking at the head. “What’s a Boo Hag?”
“An evil beast. It rides a person, sucking out their life force while they sleep. Doesn’t kill ‘em. Not normally. But if they struggle…” She shook her head, her gaze disturbed. “It’ll tear their skin right off and wear it.”
Oh, hell no. It’d been trying to tear my skin off and… “Wear it?”
Aleta nodded. “During the day, yes. At night it must hang up its skin so that it can fly around and steal the energy from those who sleep.”
“Great.”
“At least there is one less Boo Hag,” Roarke said.
“Well done,” Aleta said. “It’s difficult to kill a Boo Hag. Nearly impossible.”
“Not for Del,” Roarke said.
It was a strange compliment—that I was good at killing—but I was. So I’d take it.
“Clearly.” Aleta’s smile dimmed. “But I think it’s time for you to get out of here. It’s dangerous, especially for outsiders. Hate to see you run into the lizard man.”
I grimaced. After running into the Skunk Ape, I wasn’t keen on running into any more southern humanoid monsters.
“I think you’re right.” I called on my dragon sen
se. It immediately pulled me east, toward the river. “Are we close to the river?”
“Very close. What do you need there?”
“I think I need to cross it.”
Doubt flashed across her face. “There’s no place called Oriamor over there.”
“I still need to go that way.” I had to see whatever my dragon sense was pulling me toward.
Aleta’s eyebrows rose as she blew out a breath. “If you must.”
She gestured, then turned and walked through the woods. We followed. She might seem flighty, but she was powerful and she’d helped us and the girl in the house. It was definitely worth trusting Aleta Indigo.
Crickets chirped and the Spanish moss rustled as Aleta led us toward the river. The water glinted darkly in the moonlight as we neared. Aleta turned a sharp right, leading us down the water toward a faint gray glow. As we drew closer, I realized that we were walking toward more ghosts.
“Those aren’t haints, are they?” I asked.
“No. Just regular ghosts, waiting to get across the river.”
“They can’t just fly across?” Roarke asked.
“Not in these parts. Ghosts can’t cross water. So they wait for the ferry that’ll take them to Ol’ Beau’s.”
“What is Ol’ Beau’s?” Roarke asked.
“A bar. Maybe you’ll find answers there. It’s the only thing across the river. Just wait for the ferry and pay the ferryman what he asks. He’ll see you across.” She stopped about fifty yards from where the ghosts waited and gestured for us to join them.
“Thank you, Aleta,” I said. “Do we owe you anything?”
Ire flashed in her eyes. “I don’t help people for money.”
Suddenly, I felt like a real tool. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you’re really helpful. Kinda like a….Spooky Southern Superman, flying around and helping people.”
She grinned, her white teeth flashing in the dark night. “I like that. Spooky Southern Superman. I’m not normally in the business of racing to everyone’s aid, but I’m not going to ignore a good person in need.”
“Well, thank you. You saved our lives.”
“Not a problem. But now, I’ve got an old friend to visit.” She inclined her head, then turned and sauntered off through the trees, back toward the graveyard.