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“Or add to their potential ghoulishness,” I added. “Because we don’t want to do that.” God, did we not want that!
Annabelle smiled. “I don’t mind at all. But you’ll want to take a step back and cover your ears. Sometimes they come up screaming.”
Every cell in my body shuddered in simultaneous horror.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHAKE THE BONES
I took several steps back, working carefully to stay in the aisle and avoid stepping on anyone else’s plot. When Ethan moved beside me, I gripped his hand, unashamed.
Be still, Sentinel, he said. Those were the first words he’d said to me, and words I usually loved to hear. But here, in this graveyard, while waiting for a necromancer to commune with the dead, I wasn’t loving it.
Annabelle moved to stand at the end of the grave, facing the stretch of grass and gravestone. She closed her eyes, blew out a breath, seemed to center herself.
The earth shook again, the concussion like a strike on a timpani drum.
I cursed Thriller silently again.
Seemingly oblivious to Mr. Leeds’s irritation, or maybe because she was trained to deal with it, Annabelle held out her hands, palms down, over the grass.
“Harold Parcevius Leeds, I am Annabelle Shaw. I am here to help you speak. Please comport yourself respectfully.”
Another tremor.
Eyes still closed, she shook her head, breathed through her nose in what looked like irritated resignation. “Mr. Leeds, I am not interested in taking abuse from you. I am here voluntarily to help you communicate. If you can’t be pleasant about it, I’ll leave you to silence. Neither of us wants that. You want peace, and I want to help you find it.”
She paused, waiting, as Ethan and I stood behind her, watching, and then she nodded.
o;What do you sing?” I asked, fascinated despite myself.
“I generally use slow jams,” she said. “Classic R and B from the eighties, nineties has a nice, relaxed rhythm and sets a nice tone.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell my grandmother that. She’s in the business, too, and she’d be pissed if she learned I was singing Luther Vandross to clients. She says gospel’s the only way to go.”
“We’ll keep your secret,” Ethan said. “And sorry we interrupted you.”
She waved it off. “No worries. Some of them like to listen in, and cemetery conversations are usually pretty morose.”
“Do you do a lot of work in this neighborhood?” I asked, thinking again of Caleb Franklin.
“We work territories. Not many want to work this close to Hellriver.” She shrugged. “I don’t tend to get bothered. And if I do, I know how to protect myself.”
“Fireballs?” I asked, thinking of Catcher.
“Screaming ghouls,” she said, her expression so serious I had to choke back a silent, horrified scream.
She must have sensed my concern. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. They don’t typically manifest physically, so they don’t usually cause any physical harm.”
“I’m stuck on ‘typically’ and ‘usually.’”
She smiled. “Job hazard. And speaking of which, did you say earlier I didn’t look like an evil sorcerer?”
