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The touching and whispering had stopped as soon as I'd emptied my purse, as if the spirits were puzzling over the meaning of this new activity.
"Is there some way you can communicate? Write something on the paper or in the dirt?"
I demonstrated by writing my name on the paper, then in the dirt. The whispering and prodding stopped, but as soon as I ceased writing, it resumed.
"Move something. Anything. Just show me you can."
Again, they stopped, this time for almost a minute, but nothing in the pile moved. I shifted the items, encouraging and demonstrating. They'd pay attention, then go back to touching me.
Time to call in the big guns.
From my purse, I took out a plain silver ring. It belonged to my spirit contact, Eve Levine. To summon her, I needed an object that had been significant to her in life. The ring had been a gift from her daughter's father, Kristof, and Eve and I had had to work with her teenage daughter, Savannah, to track down and get access to a safety deposit box.
Until three years ago, I'd known Eve only by reputation. A bad reputation, as the kind of witch you didn't want to cross. By the time I met her daughter, Eve was dead, which should normally make a relationship impossible, but in my case is no impediment. When Eve had needed a necro, she came to the one who knew Savannah, and to our mutual shock, we became friends. Now when I needed ghostly help, I called on her.
But this time she didn't answer. No surprise. For months each year, Eve was gone and couldn't explain where, one of the many mysteries of the afterlife that ghosts were forbidden to discuss with the living. In an emergency, I could use the ring to summon Kristof, and he'd get a message to her, but this wasn't urgent, and I wasn't keen to summon Kristof Nast otherwise.
TROUBLED BY my failure in the garden, I didn't get much sleep. When I finally gave up and got out of bed the next morning, I had a text message from Elena: J didn't want to wake you. Said you had a party last night. Call when you can.
"Hey," Elena said when I called. "Jeremy's upstairs putting the kids down for a nap."
"I hear you have a couple of sick puppies."
She laughed. "That we do. Oh, and your delivery came this morning. Their first bunnies! Kate's already trying to chew an ear off. Clay's so proud."
"No bunny chewing for Logan?"
"Too crude. He's been examining his carefully. Clay says he's trying to find its weak spots."
A door banged open and Clay's voice rumbled something I couldn't make out.
"Jeremy's on his way down," Elena said. "And in a few hours, he'll be on his way there. The kids are doing much better. Just a cold, like I kept telling everyone."
Clay's voice sounded in the background, more a growl than a rumble.
"Oh, they'll be fine," Elena said.
"Logan's coughing again." Clay's voice came clear.
"It's not fatal." An exasperated sigh as she came back to me. "Pain in the--"
She gave a squeal that made me jump. The phone clattered to the floor. Elena shrieked a reminder that she was on the phone--or supposed to be. The phone clattered again, as if being recovered.
"Tell her I'm sorry," Elena called from the distance. "And Clay apologizes for being rude."
"I do?"
"Profusely."
"Take it outside," Jeremy said. "The babies are trying to sleep, and you could both use the fresh air."
"Sorry," Jeremy said as their voices faded. "They've been cooped up inside, worrying about the babies, and they're going a little stir crazy. Elena told you they're doing better?"
"She did. But Clay s
till seems worried. Maybe you should--"
"He'll be fine, and I'll be on my way soon. So how was the party?"
