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We stared at each other. So, a mob of angry spirits. Violence to the point of nausea. Camil e bit her lip and glanced over at the building.
“Are there things . . . remember the goshanti devil on the land where Harold Young’s house stood? The land Carter now owns? Remember how it was created by the souls of al the murdered women?”
Morio slowly nodded. “I see what you’re getting at, and yes, there are demonic entities—astral beasties—that can be formed by an excess of violence al within a smal area. Whether we’re dealing with something like that here, I don’t know. But we’d better keep it in mind.” He looked at me. “Do you think our serial vamp is hanging out here?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but you never know. For one thing, if these ghosts can kil vampires like Roman said, it’s not a safe place for any of us. For another, I just have a feeling the whole area is tainted and our vampire is just one cog in the spooky wheel.”
“I suppose we’d better go in.” Camil e turned to Chase. “You stay here—the fewer targets we have the better. Have your men keep a tight rein on that little congregation out there.” She nodded to the shouting mob just beyond the barricades. “The last thing we need is for them to interfere.”
“She’s right,” I said, looking at the detective. “The damage could be a whole lot worse if they got through.”
“Gotcha.” He motioned to one of the nearby officers and whispered to him. The guy looked half-elf, but it was hard to say for sure. Whatever his heritage, he nodded and headed back to the crowd control cops.
Chase cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets, stamping from one foot to the other as snow fluttered down to chil the silent world. “I’ve told them to use tear gas if necessary, and I’ve cal ed for more backup. But you’d better get moving. Things like this can turn ugly real y fast, and they don’t seem to realize that a group of ghosts can be as dangerous as a bunch of armed robbers holding hostages in a bank.”
I motioned to the others. “Let’s go see what we’re dealing with.” Leading the way with Vanzir by my side, we headed into Spook Central, ready for a fight.
CHAPTER 8
As we approached the building, I noticed that the diner had been boarded shut, but somebody had pried off the plywood—recently, by the smel of splintered wood—and entered through the front door.
Vanzir and I stepped over the threshold, into darkness. I paused, to let my eyes adjust, and glanced around. The room was barely discernible in the glow of the streetlamp from outside.
There was a noise and then a light as Smoky and Tril ian pul ed out flashlights that attached to their belts.
We’d gotten wise after enough fights in the dark—we’d raided the hardware stores in search of any gadgets that might make life easier and wouldn’t interfere with Camil e’s magic. A lot of electronics went wonky around al of us—thanks to our Fae wiring—so we had to be choosy. But we’d found flashlights that could be clipped on the belt and gave off a diffuse light that wouldn’t blind us, but stil il uminated the corners of a smal room. Also, penlights, smal and easy to carry, that could be hooked on a keychain.
The room was large, though, so the corners were out of sight in the gloom. But we could see the counter covered with a thick layer of dust, and the door into what was likely the kitchen. The room stil had several old Formica-covered tables and vinyl sundae chairs scattered around. A faded Norman Rockwel print hung on a nearby wal .
But as inviting as the diner once must have been, the energy was thick and dank, and the hairs on my arms stood up. Camil e let out a little gasp, and Morio stepped closer and took her hand.
“Bad,” she said. “This place has bad juju. The energy is like a live wire, and while I don’t feel Demonkin, whatever’s here is evil. Malignant, like a cancer growing in the very air.”
As she spoke, the print on the wal crashed to the ground. I whirled, looking for anybody or anything that might have jarred it down, but there was no one in sight.
“The temperature just dropped,” Morio said.
Camil e nodded, her teeth chattering. A puff of white escaped from her mouth as she breathed.
“By about twenty degrees, I’d say. Spirit activity for sure.”
I didn’t notice much difference—cold and heat were fairly innocuous to me and neither one caught my attention until it was at an extreme. “What’s that mean? Are you talking normal drop or
—”
“I’m talking supernatural drop. The temperature just plunged twenty degrees in less than a minute.” Morio barely got the words out before a dusty soda glass from behind the counter went flying across the room to smash against the opposite wal , almost hitting Vanzir.
“What the fuck?” Vanzir jumped, whirling around. “Who did that?”
“Poltergeist maybe, but I’m guessing the spirits here are a lot more dangerous than mere poltergeists.” Morio warily glanced around. “I’m not sure where to begin. We’d better find the FBHs who are trapped. Where’s the basement? Want to make a bet that’s where they were headed?”
I glanced around, then saw an opening leading into the back. “Probably over there.”
As we headed in the direction of the door, something tapped me on the shoulder. “What?” I glanced back, expecting to see Smoky or Tril ian, but they were too far behind me. “Who tapped me on the shoulder?”
Smoky’s face was paler than usual. “I saw a black shadow.” He shook his head. “One minute I was looking at your back, then a shadow appeared and vanished before I could say a word.”
“Not funny.” I growled under my breath. “Nobody messes with me, be they human, spirit, or vampire. We have to do something. Morio—Camil e—is there something we can rig up here to keep them from bothering us while we investigate—”
