36
Savannah
We raced back down the two-track trail on the back of a commandeered Harley. I clung tightly to Jaxson. It was dark, and the road was poor, and we didn’t have helmets. I closed my eyes against the dust and pressed my cheek into his strong back.
After just a few minutes, Jaxson slowed the bike, and I looked up. We’d reached the clearing surrounding Pere Cheney cemetery.
The graveyard was dark and mostly abandoned. The cursed bonfire had burned to embers, and most of the agents and their detainees had taken transport charms back to Magic Side. The clouds that had been spiraling like a cyclone above the ritual were mostly gone, and the stars were bright. Without the diffuse reflection from the overcast sky, everything was far darker than before.
Jaxson parked the bike, and we dismounted. He surveyed the shadowy edge of the woods. “Where to?”
I rested my fingers gently on his jacket. “I should go alone. I don’t think you’ll be able to see the ghost, and she might not show up if others are around.”
He took my hand softly but possessively. “You don’t know that’s the case.”
His touch made we want to never let go, to take him with me. But he was over-protective, and this was my task.
I checked the woods ahead, then turned back to him. “Normally, the ghosts only appear when no one else is there, so I’m afraid you’re out. Trust me. I have a gut feeling about this one.”
Jaxson ground his teeth, but after a moment, he inclined his head—just slightly. “Okay. But ghosts can be dangerous. Speaking with the dead is generally forbidden in our pack.”
“I’ll be fine. Our pack is superstitious.”
He gave a low, appraising growl. “You called it our pack.”
He’d caught that. And I could tell from the tension in his body that this was a question. An important one.
They were my pack now. All I had.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Our pack. Still too superstitious, especially now that you have a sorceress in your midst. I will be fine, Jaxson. The only ghost that’s given me any trouble is Dragan.”
He let me go. “All right. Just don’t get possessed by some ugly old witch.”
I pulled my hand free and smirked. “Yeah, I’m definitely leaving you here. It’s a diplomatic decision now.”
He grunted, which I took as a laugh. Striding with far more confidence than I felt, I turned and headed into the woods in search of a ghost.
With the firelight gone, the forest was darker than before. At least the clouds had parted. Patches of the strange grass, old leaves, and twigs crunched beneath my boots as I wove my way through the trees. Soon, their overhanging branches were dense enough that the leaves blocked out almost all the starlight.
I could have turned on my flashlight, but my sensitive werewolf eyes quickly adjusted to my surroundings, and it seemed more appropriate to hunt for the ghost in the dark.
Passing agents and werewolves had trampled the brush down, and the scent of our pack was everywhere. Their passing had revealed old, hidden gravestones—once part of the perimeter of the cemetery, now overgrown by forest.
I’d hoped to find the exact spot where I’d seen the witch before, but it was impossible in the dark, so after a while, I simply shouted, “Hey! I’m looking for the witch of Pere Cheney! I think you helped me tonight?”
I held my breath. A minute passed. Nothing.
Cupping my hands to my mouth—and with no real conviction that I had any idea what I was doing—I called out again, “Hello! Ghost! Thank you for your warning. It saved our pack! But I need your help again!”
Still nothing.
I gritted my teeth. For all the sneaking up on me that ghosts had been doing, shouldn’t they have the decency to come when I called?
Since I didn’t have a Ouija board and didn’t know the first thing about summoning ghosts, I just kept shouting.
Pretty soon, my vocal cords began to itch. The stars turned overhead, but no ghost appeared. The whole thing was futile.
“Savy, it’s time to get out of here!” Jaxson shouted from a surprising way away. “This isn’t working. It was a good plan, but we’ll find another way.”
I sucked my teeth. Crap. He was probably right, and I’d wandered far.
With nothing left to do, I gave the gloating trees the look and shouted one last time, “Hey, ghost lady! Show the fuck up!”
Nothing. Just dark, smug trees rustling their leaves gently in sarcastic applause.
“Yeah, screw you, too,” I muttered, and turned back—straight into the pale, intangible face of the witch.
Too shocked to scream, I stumbled back, tripped over a broken headstone, and landed in some brambles.
The ethereal figure floated over and looked down. It was the woman who’d warned me earlier. She was young—maybe eighteen—with ratty hair and a soiled dress. Although she was translucent, I couldn’t see through her.
My wound began to ache, and a frost crept from it across my body.
Her head twisted, and she gave a hungry grin as she held out her hand. “Have you come to bargain for your soul?”
My breath hitched, and I dug my fingers into the dirt. “What? No! Absolutely not!”
“Pity.” The young woman drifted between the trees.
With a sharp intake of breath, I scrambled to my feet and began to draw shadows to me out of instinct.
The ghost laughed. “Ah, yes, such deliciously dark magic, so deliciously cold!”
I couldn’t tell if it was just the shadows or the trees themselves, but they seemed to bend and bow with her passing as she circled around me.
“Please, I need your help,” I begged, slowly turning to follow her spin.
She stopped short. “I already helped you. I will not do so again—not without a bargain.” Then she slipped half behind a tree.
The word bargain sent a shiver down my spine, but I licked my lips and took a step forward. “Why did you help me? Why not again?”
In a flash, she was inches from my face. “I helped you because you are one of us.”
My skin turned to ice—because of the deep cold that radiated around her, and because of the words she’d spoken. “I don’t understand. Because of your magic?”
She pointed at my shoulder. At my wound. “Because you are dead and with us in the underworld.”
The frost on my skin penetrated deep within my gut. “I’m not dead.”