AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chase motioned to his men. “Take a look through the cemetery. See if we have any signs of desecrated graves. And these remains . . . bag them carefully, and then we burn the whole lot. We do not tell the families about this, just fill in the graves and keep it quiet.” He stood near Rozurial. Delilah crouched at his feet, squatting on her heels.
“Why would somebody want to raise a bunch of ghouls? An army, I suppose—a band of fighters. They make excellent killing machines.”
“Why did you raise your ghoul?” I stared at him. He was one of the oddest FBHs I’d ever met.
“Me? I raised Martin to be my assistant. He can understand rudimentary commands, he’s handy to have around, and he doesn’t talk my ear off.” Wilbur shrugged. “There’s not much use for this many ghouls unless you’re trying to hurt somebody or unless you just want to practice your skills. Could be the result of a magical lesson.”
Camille clapped her hand to her mouth. “Hey, back in Otherworld, down in the Southern Wastes, remember how there are pockets of rogue magic from when the sorcerers warred? Sometimes that happens in places where a lot of volatile spells were used. Do you suppose somebody was out here practicing magic, and the residue spontaneously caused the ghouls to rise?”
Wilbur frowned. “I’ve never heard of that happening before, but then I don’t talk much with other necromancers.”
“It might be possible,” Morio said. “There are some places in the world where magic is part of the land itself. That happens from long and/or heavy use of magic in one area. But why this cemetery? Remember, it’s the one that attracted those dubba-trolls we fought.”
Grateful he didn’t add anything about the trolls coming through a rogue portal—at least not in front of Wilbur—I considered the possibility. “You guys might be on to something. What makes this cemetery so special, though? Is Harold’s place anywhere near here?”
Delilah frowned. “There’s something . . . let’s go back to the cars. I need to check something I left in my backpack.”
Leaving Chase’s crew to clean up, we headed back to the parking lot, Wilbur towing his ghoul behind him. Martin came compliantly, ignoring everything but his master, whom he regarded with puppy dog eyes.
I winced as a thought ran through my head, but I decided not to go there. Not anywhere near there.
When we got to the cars, Delilah dug through her purse, which she’d stashed under the seat, and pulled out a map. She spread it out on the hood as Chase held a flashlight. We all gathered around.
Delilah tapped an ink-stained mark on the paper. “That’s where Harold lives. And this . . .” She sketched a line directly north. “This is where the Wedgewood Cemetery is. If you expand it in the other direction, this line also passes over . . . the Wayfarer.” She glanced up. “I think this cemetery is built on a ley line.”
“Which means there’s a whole lot of energy waiting here to be tapped,” Camille said. “I wonder . . .” She glanced at Wilbur and shook her head. “It’ll save for later.”
Ley lines were invisible chains of energy—a lot like a fault line—that ran through both Earthside and Otherworld. They connected places in a magical line, and any magic performed over a ley line was likely to be far more powerful than anywhere else. And then, as I stared at the map, I knew what Camille had been about to say. Two of the rogue portals were also on this ley line.
Were all the portals connected by a series of leys, or were only the rogue ones popping up on them? And were all rogue portals connected to ley lines? Another mystery to explore, once Wilbur left us alone.
“Which means that Harold and his crew may be coming out here to perform ceremonies. Or that the energy they’re raising is traveling through the ley and stirring up the bodies. Hmmm . . . I wonder. Chase, have your men check the exact whereabouts of the graves that have been disturbed and get back to us ASAP.” I glanced at Wilbur, who looked mildly confused.
“It would seem that Martin might have been pulled here by the energy of the line, but that’s a long way to travel from our neck of the woods.” I frowned.
“I can explain that,” he said. “I was taking him out for a walk, and he got off his leash.” He held up a cobalt blue leash. It was then that I noticed that Martin’s handy steel collar had a ring hanging off the back. The leash’s clasp was bent, and it looked like someone had pulled really hard on it.
“Leash? You walk him on a leash like a dog?” Now there was a visual I could do without. The thought of the dapperly dressed dead man prancing along like a poodle on the end of a bright blue leash made me want to laugh. Or puke. And when you’re a vampire, puking is not recommended.
Wilbur looked at me. “You’re strong. Can you bend this back into shape for me?” He held out the leash.
Feeling like I was in the middle of some surreal Monty Python movie, I silently took the leash, bent the clasp into shape, or at least as good a shape as it was going to get, and handed it back to him without a word. Then I turned and motioned toward the cars.
“Let’s get a move on. We’ve got a meeting with . . . Vanzir’s friend, right?”
Vanzir nodded. “Yeah, but we’d better drop over to the FH-CSI to get his wounds looked at.” He nodded to Chase.
Delilah grabbed Chase’s arm and looked at the bite marks near the elbow where the ghoul had managed to rip through the cloth of his shirt and chomp down on him. No flesh was missing, but there was one hell of a bruise forming around the wound.
“Yeah, it’s already turning red, and red means infection.” She sighed.
Chase cleared his throat. “I have to get back to the station. I do have a job, you know. I promise—I’ll have Sharah look at it the minute I get there. You guys go do what you need to do.” He kissed Delilah soundly on the lips. “Call you later, sweetheart,” he added as he jogged off toward the group of squad cars.
Wilbur flashed us an awkward smile, as if the expression was foreign to him, and said, “I’m headed out, too. I need to get Martin home. It’s time to watch Seinfeld.”
That did it. I tried to clear my throat, but a bubble of laughter broke through, and I let out a loud snort. “You’ve got to be kidding. You and the ghoul watch reruns of Seinfeld together? What the hell kind of freakshow world do you live in?”
Wilbur stared at me, his eyes flashing darkly. “You’re one to talk. You live with your sisters and a bunch of men in one big house, you’re out bashing ghouls in the middle of the night, you run a bar, and you’re a vampire. You drink blood, for God’s sake. Throwing stones ought to be the last thing on your list of to-do items.”
