"What's going on, Alessandro?"
He looked cautiously around the cafe. "The information just came to light."
"Do I really need to raise the dead just to check her answers?"
"There's more. We need the spirit's assistance in finding a lost article. It's my understanding that magical artifacts can be traced through the ether?"
"Yeah, it's all part of being stuck between worlds."
Holly noticed that the patrons at one table were leaving, scraping chairs over the floor and chatting at top volume. She looked at the clock over the door. It was nearly ten. The place would be closing up soon.
"So, what is it we're after?" Holly asked. "Ruby shoes? A spray can of Demon-B-Gone?"
"I can't tell you."
"That's ridiculous. I can't work like this."
Faster than her eye could follow, his hand was on hers, his long hair swinging from the sudden motion. His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him. "Listen to me. There was a theft. Many books and objects were taken, but we seek one book in particular. It holds the secrets to weaken a demon's powers so that it can be banished. We have to find that book."
Mollified, Holly hitched her chair forward. "Okay."
His eyes shifted sideways. "You must say nothing of this. This is not information we can share with anyone, not even the detective."
"So you're finally trusting me with one of your secrets. Hurray. I need more. Was this book stolen from a sorcerer? A vampire? What's the history of this theft?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Just remember that not all secrets are safe to know. Your job is to raise the dead. Let me question the spirit."
"Because you know the specifics, and I don't." She glared at him, waiting for a response. "Such as, let me see, what book this is, or who lost it, and why this one in particular was stolen."
"Precisely."
"Keeping me in the dark like this doesn't help. Do you realize how it makes me feel?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Understand this: I'm keeping your skin whole. In time we may not be the only ones looking for these items. Not all vampires play well with others, and the less you know the safer we all can sleep."
Holly looked away, furious. She could understand his point, but she liked hers better. "We're supposed to be partners."
"You get the car keys when we're beating up on a possessed house. Right now I get to drive."
She made no reply, trying to calm down enough to find a new argument. This is absurd. How am I supposed to
convince a ghost to help us find a book when I don't even know the title?
"Trust me, Holly; I know what I'm talking about."
"Can I?" She shrugged, letting her annoyance show. This was the crux of the matter. "I can't trust somebody who won't trust me."
Alessandro's expression turned cold. "Don't try blackmail."
Riding a bubble of frustration, Holly nearly lunged across the table. "You keep hiding things from me. It hurts."
Alessandro put his hand on her cheek. The touch was nearly human-warm. He had fed that night. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you everything you want. There are secrets here that aren't mine to tell. I can't betray them. Honor is one of the few things I have left."
There was no arguing with his expression. In fact, she wanted to wipe that look off his face before it broke her heart.
Holly pushed his hand away and flopped back in her chair. "Fine. If it gets us a step closer to a demon-free existence, let's just go do the deed. Where's Mac?"
With a stormy look Alessandro stood, jacket fringe swinging. "He said he'd meet us there."
"You boys come up with all the fun activities, don't you?"
Chapter 19
They took his T-Bird, the rumble of the big engine in competition with the guitars ululating from six overpowered speakers. Apparently they were through with casual conversation. Holly was quiet, wrapped in a sulk like a cozy blanket.
The guitars died midshriek as he killed the engine. St. Andrew's spread out before them, draped in a mantilla of sea fog. Holly got out and buttoned her coat against the clammy wind.
"I can't see a damned thing," she complained.
"Then stay close to me." Alessandro pulled out the gun, the holster making a whispery rasp of metal on leather.
The sound made Holly's skin crawl, but then her eyes adjusted enough to see the gun properly. It was one like Mac had, made for silver bullets. He fitted a suppressor onto it.
Cold sweat slithered down her back like an inquisitive snake. "What are you afraid of?"
He turned, his features lost in the darkness. "Not much. But I am cautious."
Walking around the long nose of the car, she put herself on his left side, away from the gun. He gripped her hand.
"Follow me," he said, and he led Holly between the graves.
Short iron fences enclosed many of the plots, just the right height to trip over. Holly strained all her senses, trying to keep from stumbling. Water dripped from leaf to leaf. She could smell the sea, the cold mist salting her lips and turning her cheeks to ice. Above, the clouds thinned and rolled, the moonlight fading in and out, making gossamer trails in the fog.
Alessandro stopped, and she bumped into him. With a brush of his arm he swept her behind one of the small mausoleums that dotted the cemetery. Gun poised, he crouched. She ducked down behind him, bracing herself on the gritty stone of the building.
"What is it?" Holly whispered.
He pointed. To their left shadows moved in and out of the fog. Shifting backward, he put his lips close to her ear. "Ghouls, and not the college crowd."
Her next breath shook. A pack of ghouls was something to fear. Never needing an excuse to snack, they would shred and eat a lone human in a matter of minutes. She blessed Alessandro for bringing the gun.
Twin notes of a foghorn moaned. She put her hand on Alessandro's shoulder, leaning in close. "What do we do?"
He shook his head, the brush of his hair soft against her skin. "We wait and watch. They don't normally come to St. Andrew's. It's too far into the city. If they're sniffing around here, somebody sent them."
"If they're being good little soldiers, then who's the general?"
He held up a hand for silence. The creatures were crossing in front of the mausoleum, drawing close enough that Holly could see their outlines against the moon-whitened fog. She felt the glide of muscle and bone beneath Alessandro's jacket as he took aim. The physical contact was comforting, but she drew back to give him more room to move.
There were half a dozen ghouls moving in a close-packed clump. Each about the size of a twelve-year-old human, they looked gangly and skinny, walking with a boneless, slumped posture. Many had ball caps and baggy pants, but ghouls never wore shoes. Their fingers and toes had long, curving claws that would shred through any canvas or leather in seconds. Holly shuddered, pressing against the rough, mossy rock of the mausoleum, wishing she could dissolve into it.
Then she felt Alessandro tense. Pointing again, he indicated a figure that was pushing forward to assume the lead position in the pack. It was not a ghoul. Holly stared, squinting as if that would somehow make what she saw prettier.
If it could have straightened up, it might have been as tall as a man, but the creature's spine curled over until the head seemed to thrust forward. Barrel-chested, hairless, and nearly naked, it half ran, half waddled in a rolling gait more animal than human.
It stopped, turning to the ghouls. It hissed something at them, gesturing toward the ocean side of the graveyard. The ghouls milled in confusion until it cuffed one on the ear, knocking it to the grass. Then it waved a long, malformed arm again and turned to lead its charges away. As the pale light caught the thing's face, she could see enough of its features to make her stomach roll. It had no nose or mouth, just a slitlike opening full of needle-sharp teeth. Holly cringed back, sweating with petrified revulsion.