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“We might want to vacuum the floor a bit first,” Belle commented. “Otherwise we’re going to end up with glass in unpleasant places.”

“You could always sit at a table like normal people,” Aiden said. “Or doesn’t spirit talking work like that?”

“Ranger, you should be aware by now that we don’t do normal.” Her voice was cool but her silver eyes gleamed with mirth. “But it’ll also be less of a drain on Ashworth’s strength if we use as small a protection circle as possible.”

“I’m totally—”

“No, you’re not,” she cut in. “But like most men, you hate to admit any sort of weakness even if you are swaying like a drunken fool about ready to collapse.”

Ashworth snorted, but all he said was, “You’ll find the vac in the laundry down the hall.”

I handed Belle his spell stones then walked down to grab it. Once Aiden had shifted the coffee table, I quickly vacuumed both the small floor rug and the floorboards immediately around it. Belle then placed the stones around the rug while I put the vac away.

“Right,” Ashworth said, once Belle and I were sitting within the circle of his spell stones. “You ready?”

“Protect away,” Belle said.

It took several minutes before his magic began to layer around us, but the sheer strength of it had me sucking in a breath.

There’s no need for a circle this strong, Belle commented. We’re only dealing with a pissed-off ghost, not a demonic spirit.

I suspect it might be something of a magical one-finger salute aimed at our heretic witch.

Belle’s chuckle ran warmly through my thoughts. Are you sure your great-grandfather didn’t share his DNA with the Ashworths? Because he really could be your grandfather’s much younger brother.

Given everything I ever heard about my great-grandfather suggested he was something of a Casanova, that’s more than possible.

Ashworth’s magic reached a peak and then fell away. I could see the multitude of layers surrounding us—it was a thick net that nothing other than the most determined dark spirit would get through—but the power of it had fallen silent. Given my suspicion he was sending a message to the heretic witch, maybe we simply couldn’t sense the magic because he was amplifying it outward, away from us.

“Righto, ladies,” Ashworth said. “The stage is all yours.”

“I’ll be recording,” Aiden said, “so if you can follow usual practice, Liz, and repeat whatever Belle is seeing or hearing, I’d appreciate it.”

I nodded and inched a little closer to Belle so that our knees touched. She took a deep breath to center herself and clear her thoughts, then placed her fingers in mine and closed her eyes. While some spirit talkers used personal items to make contact, or objects such an Ouija board or even a spirit pendulum, Belle had no need.

Though our hands were only lightly touching, I nevertheless felt the moment she silently summoned the killer.

He answered somewhat reluctantly. His anger burned through her and echoed through me—anger that was wrapped in a thick sense of betrayal.

What is it you wish? His question was curt.

Your name.

Why?

Because I’d rather call you by name than mark your ghostly existence with the moniker of killer.

It was a weight he’d be wearing anyway, given he’d lived and died in violence. In many respects, becoming a ghost—even one fated to forever linger over the spot of his death—was far better than the life that probably would have been his on rebirth. Fate did not take kindly to those who killed others for their own gain, and she seriously believed in retribution and lesson learning. Not just in one life, but many. Do unto others was a witch creed for a very good reason.

I have many names, the ghost muttered eventually, but you may call me Trent.

Full name, please, Trent.

He hesitated. Belle frowned, and the force of her magic crept into the connection, pressing down on him, compelling him. It was something very few spirit talkers could do.

It’s Price. Trent Price.

I repeated his answer for Aiden’s benefit, but kept my attention on Belle and the ghost. While it was very rare for ghosts such as he to be dangerous, he’d been working for a powerful witch. I wasn’t about to risk this being in any way another trap. It was unlikely, but still….

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