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Or maybe they’re like Sid, and they were wronged so badly that they cannot rest until someone helps them to right that wrong. All we should have to do is focus our intent and call to Sid and then trap him in the bottle—
The temperature drops ten degrees.
Yikes. That was fast.
I lift my gaze from the table just as a gray shape materializes in the corner of the room. I gulp back a scream forming in my throat. No matter how many evil, monstrous things I’ve seen over the years, I still get a fright when confronted with evidence that the supernatural truly exists.
I have to work on that. I have to become immune, because when I finally chase down and confront the demon who killed my parents, I can’t hesitate. I’m going to cut that bastard down and dance on his entrails…as soon as Becka and I can figure out how to kill a demon.
I’ve never encountered a demon before. All the intel we have on the world of monsters tells me that they’re the biggest, baddest, and most difficult to kill. No hunter has faced down a demon and survived.
Unlike ghosts and bad witches and werewolves who are at least in some part human, demons are ripped from the bowels of the underworld itself, from a land called Chaos. There’s one called Abaddon who tormented an old folks’ home in Toledo, and these little old ladies were literally stabbing their eyes with knitting needles so they didn’t have to look at him.
The only way hunters have been able to stop demons is by bargaining with them—giving them something they want so that they go away.
But I’m going to change that.
I’m going to find the demon who butchered my parents and make sure he never, ever hurts another family again. And if Brooks Bellua stands in my way, he’ll wish for knitting needles after what I do to him—
Ahem, yes, back to the ghostly apparition that’s materializing before us.
At first, all I can make out is a few gray shapes floating in the air, but they grow and merge and become the visage of a man wearing a beautiful vintage suit—the same suit as the man in the picture on the table in front of me. His mouth hangs open, and a trail of blood drips from the corner, marring his pristine clothing.
Sid. The poisoned groom.
“Okay,” I breathe. “He’s here.”
Brooks and Jackson turn toward the ghost, but Orion’s watching me.
He must sense my unease because he gives my hand a little squeeze. “Lily, it’s okay. He can’t hurt you.”
“She’s done this before,” Jackson reminds him.
“And hecanhurt me,” I whisper. “That’s what we’ve come to ask him. How was he able to kill that couple when he’s a ghost, and—”
At my words, the ghost shakes his head so violently that I jerk away in fright. Brooks squeezes my fingers to keep me from breaking the circle.
“He’s shaking his head,” Jackson says.
“Yes, thanks for that excellent deduction, Watson. I can see him,” Brooks snaps.
“Whyis he shaking his head?”
“What are you saying?” I say to the ghost. “Did you hurt those honeymooners a couple of weeks ago?”
Again, Sid shakes his head. The air in the room drops another ten degrees.
“What about the couple six weeks before them? Did you do that?”
He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Only very powerful ghosts have the ability to speak, and this guy doesn’t seem that angry. With his slumped shoulders and sad eyes, he’s kind of…pathetic. I don’t think he’s angry about his wife poisoning him. I think he’s heartbroken.
An idea occurs to me. “Did you see whodidmurder that couple?”
At this, the ghost floats away, nodding slowly. He looks terrified, which is a strange expression to see on a specter.
I incline my head toward the table, where I have a special crystal Becka uses to help ghosts move on. “We’re here to help you cross over, if you want to. But before you go, can you tell us what you saw? Who has been killing people at this hotel and framing you?”
The ghost flickers and disappears. The lights begin to buzz. A moment later, the planchette springs to life, leaping across the spirit board even though none of us are touching it.
