Powered by Ghosts

by Kaje Harper

  Inside the shed, a bunch of pots leaped up and out the doorway at them. Pip snagged three but one skipped close enough to Grim to make him jump back. Silas gestured with his free hand and cast a thin dome over the poltergeist. The remaining pots clattered to the ground.

  “Enough throwing things.” Silas pulled the ghost closer. “We need to have a conversation.”

  “Greedy fuckers.” This time Darien heard a male voice, faint as if at the end of a long tunnel. “It was just a loaf of bread.”

  Silas’s tone deepened and softened. “What bread?”

  “Hungry.” The ghost’s head came up and its expression sharpened, staring at Silas. “Hungry!”

  Silas’s power flared brighter green. “We’ll feed you. Soon. Talk first.”

  “Liar. No one feeds a hungry man.”

  “You’ve been hungry a long time.” The coaxing in Silas’s voice strengthened. “Tell me about it.”

  “Bread. It was right there. I hadn’t eaten.”

  “Did you steal it?”

  “They took it from me. Fuckers. It was cold and I was hungry.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the River? There’s everything you could want, in that water.”

  “River…” The ghost was silent a long time. “It called me. But the thing said no.”

  “Thing?” Silas’s attention sharpened. “What thing.”

  “By the River. It was hungry too.”

  “Hungry for what?”

  There was another long silence. Then the ghost said, “Greedy fuckers. It was just a loaf of bread.”

  Silas questioned it again, around and around, while the chill bit through Darien’s coat. He rubbed his gloved hands together, and wondered if he should warn Silas to watch out for frostbite. The ghost said nothing more of use. There was a hungry thing by the River, and it hated someone about a loaf of bread.

  Eventually Silas said, “I think it’s time you went to the River and stopped starving.”

  “I can’t. I’m hungry.” The tone sounded more like fear though.

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll help you find the way.”

  “Promise?” The ghost fixed its wandering gaze on Silas. “You said I could eat.”

  “Come along.” Silas pulled it into his circle, winding more loops of power around it as he went.

  Grim leaped into the circle before Silas could close it. Mage and familiar locked eyes for a second, then Silas closed the circle. The power of it rose, shimmering and translucent. Then Silas and Grim went still as stone, and the power-looped ghost vanished.

  “Where did they go?” Pip asked. “They’re not all there. Is there an Otherworld? Can they go halfway?”

  “They’re by the River, I assume.” Darien didn’t like being left behind. On the other hand, Silas’s body was right there and vulnerable, and he didn’t like that either. He moved into the center of the doorway, facing out. Off to the left, Pip still sat where he’d been told, the remnants of lethal icicles at his feet. Big chunks of ice.

  “Pip? What you did? That was… amazing.” He kept himself from saying such a good dog even though Pip’s wagging tail and pricked ears invited it. Familiar. He’s a person, not a pet. “That ice could’ve killed Silas.” Memory of that jolt to Silas’s smothering body made him swallow hard. “Or me, I guess. You saved us.”

  “I did?” Pip’s tail went faster. “I did! It was a big one and fast. I never Fetched anything that heavy before.” His ears dropped slightly. “It hit him, though. I wasn’t as quick as it was.”

  “Quick enough. A smack on the shoulder, compared to that giant icicle landing on his neck? You did great.”

  “I got the next one quicker.”

  “And saved me.” He realized it wasn’t just the tail-wag that was making the little dog’s body shake. “And you must be cold. You don’t have half the fur Grim has.”

  “I have some magic.” Pip shivered again. “It is a bit chilly.”

  “Of course it is.” Darien pulled open his coat and crouched. “Come here.”

  “Grim said to stay.”

  “The poltergeist is gone and Grim isn’t our boss. Come on, get warm.”

  Pip hesitated, then trotted over. Darien scooped the little dog up inside his coat and rebuttoned it, the front acting like a big pocket. It was a tight fit, but Pip’s little shape quickly warmed against his chest. The dog wriggled, then a damp tongue swiped Darien’s chin.

  “Hey, don’t distract me.” He rekindled his little power light in his palm. “Keep watch.”

  “What are we watching for?”

  Darien gestured with an elbow at the two motionless shapes in the circle. “Anything that might hurt them. Anything.”

  “I can do that. And if anything tries, I can Fetch the ice and whomp them. Boom.”

  “Tell me about your fetching. Can you move things around anywhere? Or just call them to you?”

  “Mostly things come.” Pip’s voice dropped. “My teacher said I should be able to move things away from me too. Movers can do that. But when I try, they just come closer. So he told me I was just a Fetch.” Darien felt the pup curling tighter inside his coat. “He said I might never get to be a familiar, if I didn’t learn better. Sorcerers don’t want just a Fetch.”

  “Your Fetching saved the man I… admire tonight. I have no problem with what you can do.”

  “I might learn better too, if I practice. I was supposed to do a lot more practice.”

  “If you’d waited, Silas might be dead.” The truth of that made him clutch Pip harder.

  “Maybe it wasn’t bad I was impatient? Maybe it was okay I sneaked after my sibling?”

  “More than okay.” Darien’s throat tightened, and he pressed a kiss to the dog’s silky head. “Much more than okay.”

  A wriggling down by his ribs was probably Pip’s trapped tail wagging, but the dog said nothing. Together they watched the darkness, breathing quietly, until a sound from behind made Darien turn.

  Inside the circle, Grim shook his head, and Silas stretched, then gestured and scuffed his foot. The circle vanished with a little pop. Darien quickly scanned Silas up and down, seeing nothing worrisome. “Okay?”

  “I got the poltergeist into the River. We searched up and down the bank for a while, but there was no hungry ‘it’ that we could find.”

  “Could there be other places along the River where it might be?”

  “Yes.” Silas ran a hand over his hair, then picked up his chalk, pocketed it, and began tugging on his gloves. “The River’s as much a concept as it is a place. Even if two necromancers are working at the same time, the River they reach may not be the same. It’s very rare to see anyone else down there, though people are dying every second.”

  “So how do we find that thing?”

  “I don’t know.” Silas frowned. “All the dead from this town seem to have no problem meeting it. I think my best bet is still to follow one of them.”

  “Do we wait around for Edwina Barstow to die?”

  “Or someone else.” Silas came over to him and stared deep into his eyes. “Just don’t let it be you, damn it! When I saw that ice falling—”

  “You threw yourself under it! You idiot.”

  “It could’ve killed you.”

  “And you’re somehow immune to an ice dagger falling on your head?”

  “Better me than you.”

  “No!” Darien grabbed Silas’s arm. “It’s not!”

  Their breath puffed and mingled in the cold air. Darien yanked Silas to him and Silas came without resistance, lips parting. They met in a kiss that was half desperate, mouths hot and wet and demanding. And alive. Mine. Death can’t have him. He pulled Silas in tighter, then giggled as Pip’s tongue slurped up his neck, and pushed away.

  “Sorry, pup. Were we squashing you?”

  “Pip.” Silas set a hand on the dog’s head. “Thank you. You were magnificent.”

  Pip squirmed around, his tail tickling Darien to giggles, and peered down out of h
is coat. “You hear that, Grim? I was magnificent.”

  “Adequate,” Grim snapped. “A bit slow.” Pip’s tail stopped but before Darien could rebuke the cat Grim said, “Not too slow though. You saved Silas. I guess you’re worth your weight in tuna after all.”

  “What’s tuna?” Pip’s tail resumed its squirming. “It’s a food, right? Is it good?”

  “Too good for you. But you earned a bite of it tonight.” Grim rose on his hind legs and patted at the wriggling tail through Darien’s coat. “You’ve a lot to learn, but you might just be worth teaching, young Pip.”

  As the cat stalked ahead of them in the direction of the parked Studebaker, Silas murmured, “That’s his way of saying you did a great job, Pip. And when we get home, if there’s no tuna, I’ll make sure there’s some bacon.”

  “And what do I get?” Darien teased, a tightness in his chest he’d barely noticed loosening, leaving him feeling bubbly and silly. “Chopped liver?”

  “Sausage?” Silas suggested with a twinkle in his eyes. “Nice fat salami?”

  Darien hip-bumped him. “Big talk, mister.” But he couldn’t hold back a laugh, and Pip yipped along with him. Hopefully without knowing why.

  Chapter 6

  Two days later, Silas was getting tired of staring at the local clinic’s ambulance bay. He was also getting tired of teaching Darien runes, in the boring confines of the car where all they dared do was sketch them on a pad of paper. He flicked another look down the street, then took his turn with the pencil. “Now this one names a spice, and here, this loop makes it a warm spice, with bite. This flourish is for cinnamon.”

  “Why is there a rune for cinnamon?” Darien asked. “Magic baked goods? A weight-loss food for society women that vanishes when you eat it?”

  “Possibly, if you wanted to waste the power.” Silas wanted to kiss his mouth, not listen to him run it. Or maybe both. Boredom seemed to bring out the impudence in his lover and Silas didn’t hate it half as much as he should in his role as teacher. “But also when you’re describing someone, or something, if they have the scent of cinnamon, or the hint of it in their essence, you may have to name it.”

  Darien sighed hard enough to put out a hundred candles, and took the pencil. “Spice. Warm spice. Cinnamon.”

  His rune was accurate, as usual. Darien had a gift for space and shape. Aaaand… that doodle was no part of the rune for cinnamon. “What abomination is that?”

  “A hot and spicy dick.” Darien grinned, then tilted his head. “Wait. Is that—?”

  The door of the ambulance bay rolled open, and the siren suddenly wailed to life. Silas started the car, and Darien dropped the pad at his feet. “They’re going the other way.”

  “We’ll circle the block and catch up.” It wasn’t as if this town had a lot of traffic. Silas stepped on the gas, not hard enough to make anyone stare, and turned right at the corner. Three more fast turns, and they were behind the ambulance, traveling just over the speed limit.

  “They’re getting away.” Darien gripped the dash, leaning forward.

  “We can still hear them. It does us no good to get pulled over.”

  “No. I know.”

  Old Edwina Barstow was still hanging on, her tether tight in Silas’s Othersight. If she passed, well and good, but despite two more nights of ghost-snacking, including the weeper at the jail, Silas was itching to do something more. Other than a fear that only the River washed away, none of the ghosts he’d freed had told them anything useful.

  Up ahead, the siren got louder, then suddenly went silent. “I think they’ve stopped,” Darien said.

  “Agreed.” Silas slowed, then pulled over down the street from where the ambulance stood at the curb, lights still flashing. They watched the medics jump out and run into a house carrying a stretcher.

  “Could be nothing,” Darien pointed out. “Like all the other times.”

  They hadn’t bothered to follow unless the ambulance came out full blast, but even those had been non-fatal cases, except perhaps two which were borne off to the nearest big town, out of reach. In the backseat Pip bounced up and down. “That siren is loud. Do you think it’s a dead person this time?”

  “Dying,” Silas pointed out. Dead would probably mean just another useless if tasty ghost. “We can hope.”

  “I feel like a bastard, hoping someone is dying.” Darien wrinkled his nose.

  “We’re not hurting them. We’re not doing anything to make them more likely to die. If anything, we just want their death to be useful, not wasted.”

  “I guess so.” Darien didn’t sound quite convinced.

  The ambulance men came jogging out with the stretcher, and clambered into the back. The ambulance took off, lights and sirens blaring again. That was hopeful. Silas followed them back toward the clinic. Good sign? Bad sign? The worst cases had turned into a run to the highway and out of town, but on the other hand, they were pulling ahead fast, suggesting urgency. This could be it.

  When they reached the clinic, the ambulance stood silent at the main doors, the back swinging open. Darien said, “You need to get closer, right?”

  “Yes. Ideally. We should go in.” He looked into the back of the car. “You two stay here. Don’t draw any attention.”

  “I want to help again,” Pip said. “I could be useful.”

  “You could.” Silas couldn’t help smiling at his hopeful brown eyes. “But a human medical clinic won’t allow dogs inside. And this time we don’t need a wild chase scene.”

  Pip sighed and looked at Darien. “You’ll call me if you need me? I think I’ll always hear you if you call.”

  “Sure.” Darien reached back to rub Pip’s ear. “Snuggle together if it gets chilly, guys.”

  Grim huffed and curled his tail neatly over his toes, on the opposite side of the seat.

  “You’re in charge, Grim,” Silas said. No doubt unnecessarily, but maybe it would make Pip listen quicker in a pinch.

  They got out and crossed the street, heading for the entrance. The nurse at the admission desk looked up and smiled at Silas. “Oh, are you back? Shoulder bothering you?”

  “No, thanks.” They’d made an initial foray with his bruised shoulder an excuse. He’d asked for an X-ray, as a reason to get the lay of the building, although as he expected, there were no broken bones. Just a patch of purpled and discolored skin that Darien had breathed on gently that night, before sucking Silas’s dick down like he was water for a dying man. Stop thinking about that. “We’re going to visit Grandma Bean. Cheer her up a bit.” The old lady had been down for a lung X-ray when he was there, and made an excellent excuse.

  “She’ll like that.”

  From the emergency side of the clinic, he could make out strained, loud voices. Maybe the new case was a crisis. He glanced that way and said, “That sounds serious.”

  The reception nurse’s voice hushed. “Poor Mrs. Gauthier. Stabbed, if you can believe it. Might not make it. So awful.” Then she recalled herself and said, “Not that I can discuss it, of course.”

  “Of course not,” Silas agreed, in his most soothing tone. “We’ll wish her the best. Let’s see if we can cheer Grandma Bean up.”

  Turning away from the hubbub, he led Darien toward the small wing of rooms. Once through the swinging door, he paused, listening, then walked down the row. The first three rooms were occupied, but the fourth was empty, the bed stripped and naked. “In here,” he whispered.

  They ducked in, shutting the door, and he drew a wooden wedge out of his pocket and kicked it into place in lieu of the absent lock. Shedding his coat, he closed the window blinds and took out his chalk.

  “I’m going with you,” Darien said, his chin out mulishly.

  “I need you to keep watch.” He didn’t want Darien around something capable of scaring the dead away from their rest.

  “The door is shut and jammed.” Darien gave the end of the wedge a harder kick. “I’m coming.”

  “It could be a false alarm anyway. A
waste of time.”

  “Then we get to stroll along a riverbank and chat for a while.”

  He wanted to argue, but he also wanted to get his circle made and start watching. And there was no denying it would feel good having Darien at his back. “Well, keep your shields up, and stay close.”

  Darien moved over to him and rose on his toes to press a hard kiss to Silas’s lips. “Now you’re talkin’.”

  Silas crouched and drew the circle around them, finishing it with a lock. He didn’t want to lure the ghost on this plane, but in the Other. For that he needed something fancier. He wrote the spell out, improvising. He’d never tried to do it quite like this before. A quick arming of his spell, the power from nights of hunting thrumming through his veins, and he ducked into the Veil, bringing Darien with him.

  The fog closed around them, dense and muffling as ever. He said, “Darien? A light?” The puff of gold that appeared on Darien’s hand lit his smile. I figured he’d like to be helpful. Silas tilted his head, listening and sensing with his power. That way. He hesitated. “Can you tell where the River is? Do you feel its pull?” Sorcerers usually didn’t till they got near, but Darien had put his hand in that water more than once.

  Darien closed his eyes, lashes dark against his skin. Silas wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. Darien having a sense of direction on this plane could be useful. But if he did, it would mean the River had its hooks in him deeper than usual.

  After a long pause, Darien said, “That way?”

  About right, damn it. “Lead on.”

  Darien opened his eyes, gold sparks glinting in them, and strode out. Even though he was going the right way, the fog clung to them, as if slowing their pace. After a minute, Silas took point, parting the Veil easily. They stepped out on the barren shore, with the shimmer of the River ahead.

  “Now what?” Darien asked.

  “Now we wait. But I’m going to open a lure, try to bring the dead woman down here in the same place as us.”

  “If she dies.”

  “Well, yes. And fairly soon. We can only wait here a little while.”

  “Right.” Darien wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the river. A silent shiver wracked him. Silas wondered what he was thinking of, or remembering, but there was no time to comfort him.