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CHAPTER 1
The tiny hairs on my arm sizzled as puffs of smoke rose from my skin. I wrapped the bottom of my shirt around my arm to keep it from bursting into flames. My upgraded ward was no joke. It didn’t reach the level of stop, drop, and roll, but I wouldn’t mind a less intense physical response.
Resident ghost Ray Bauer glanced at me. “Couldn’t you just have invested in one of those security camera systems? Seems like it does the same thing without the risk of injury.”
“Cameras aren’t as effective when dealing with supernaturals.” I adjusted my shirt and strode toward the door. According to the scorched hairs on my arm, Kane Sullivan, the demon prince of hell himself, had arrived.
Nana Pratt, my other resident ghost, appeared beside me, wringing her hands.
“What’s up?”
“There’s a strange creature loping across the bridge. He looks…wrong.”
Not a certain prince of hell then. A lot of things were wrong with Kane, but his looks weren’t one of them.
I pulled a dagger from my boot, not bothering to ask for a more detailed description. Nana Pratt had a tendency to focus on unhelpful features like, ‘his hair seemed to be parted on the wrong side,’ or ‘he looks like he might pass the basket in church without donating.’
I opened the door and strolled outside to greet my unwelcome visitor.
Bulky frame, blank expression, and the stench of desperation. Textbook ghoul. Not the ideal way to kick off the day.
The ghoul wasn’t loping as much as meandering. The creature seemed drawn to the cemetery yet distracted by whatever crossed its path. Right now, it leaned over the bridge and stared at the moat like water was a new and exciting invention. I’d never seen a stoned ghoul before. First time for everything.
I stood on the porch and leaned against a column, fingering the handle of my dagger. “Hey, buddy,” I yelled.
The ghoul’s deformed head jerked in my direction. It took the fool about twenty seconds to locate the source of the sound. Good grief. Never mind too stupid to live. This one was too stupid to kill.
The ghoul grunted angrily, like I’d interrupted a private conversation with its reflection.
“You’re trespassing,” I said. “You should move along.”
The ghoul sniffed in the direction of the cemetery.
“Sorry, pal. No fresh meat in those graves. Nothing to see here.”
What would’ve prompted it to explore my property in the first place? Unless somebody pointed the ghoul in my direction, it would have no reason to come here. There was also the curious fact that this ghoul seemed to be traveling alone. They rarely traveled solo, especially not in broad daylight.
“Where’s your friend?” I asked. Maybe the friend had wandered off and this ghoul was trying to find its companion. Great. That meant two possible problems.
Saliva dripped from the ghoul’s mouth and hissed as it hit the bridge.
Charming.
“Please don’t drool on the bridge,” I said. “I need a hole in the wood like I need a hole in my head.”
It would be much easier to deal with the ghoul if I didn’t have to get within stabbing distance of it.
I felt the presence of the ghosts behind me.
“What is that thing?” Ray asked.
“A ghoul.”
“Why does it look like it downed half a bottle of Wild Turkey?”
As though to prove Ray’s point, the ghoul staggered forward and nearly fell into the moat. The creature managed to catch itself in time and regain its balance.
“What does it want?” Nana Pratt asked.
