Grave Rites: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Grant Wolves Book 6) Page 9

  “What do you want me to ask her about, lottery numbers?” Annoyance flared, but he tamped it down and refocused on their task. “Naomi, do you know where you are?”

  The planchette glided across the board, hovering briefly over one letter at a time.

  H-E-L-L.

  “Oh sweetie, it’s not hell… it’s the afterlife. Or… purgatory, I guess,” Lucy said. “You’re free now, free from whatever living nightmare you endured.”

  “For Pete’s sake,” Joey muttered, then said, “Naomi? It’s Joey. We’re sorry about what happened. And I know you probably don’t want to think about it. But do you remember what happened?”

  Yes.

  “Do you know who… killed you?” Chris asked.

  The planchette didn’t move, and the only sound while they waited was their own anxious breathing.

  It was Lucy who broke the silence, eventually. “I know, it sucks and you don’t want to talk about it. But anything you can tells us would help.”

  Silence.

  Chris tried another tactic. “Rachel is missing too, and we’re worried whatever happened to you might happen to her next. Can you help us find her?”

  More silence, then the planchette began to move.

  How?

  Now that was a good question. The three wolves exchanged questioning glances around the board.

  “Well,” Chris began, “I tried to look for you on the astral plane when I found out you were missing, but I couldn’t find you. I’m not sure if it’s because you were already… you know. But I don’t know Rachel well enough to look for her. We’ve never met. Maybe you can do the same thing, just will yourself to her location. Since you know her.”

  There was another pause, and Chris wondered if he’d given his friend’s poor spirit too much to process at one time. Then the planchette twitched, stilled, then began spelling out a response.

  Astral plane?

  Doubt clawed at the back of Chris’s mind. Naomi had known about his gift, was one of the few outside the pack that did. She’d even participated in a few of his exploratory sessions with Cathy. But maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe her ghostly brain was Swiss cheese. Did Dean say that fresh ones had difficulty remembering things, or just that they didn’t always know they were dead? He couldn’t remember.

  “Chris?” Joey said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucy asked.

  Chris shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m not sure—”

  The planchette began to move again, jerkily this time.

  Stop wasting my time.

  “Because you’ve got something more pressing to do?” Joey smirked.

  Panic seized Chris’s heart. “Stop!” he hissed. “Or this might be the only opportunity we get to talk to her.”

  “Are you sure it’s even her?” Lucy asked, echoing Chris’s growing concern.

  Chris removed his hands from the planchette. “One way to find out.”

  Joey was on her feet so fast she almost knocked the board over. “No.”

  “Relax,” Chris said. “I’ll only be astral for a minute.”

  “That’s sixty seconds too long, if Lucy’s right. We do not want to mess around with random spirits. That’s bad juju.”

  Chris rolled his eyes. “It was a figure of speech. I’ll only be a few seconds.”

  Her indecision was clear in the lift of her shoulders, the clenching of her fists, and the way she bit her lower lip. He started to lie back.

  “Wait!” Joey jumped over the board in her haste to reach his side. “I’ll hold you up. This floor is filthy. You’ll thank me later.”

  He smiled slightly, “I can thank you now.”

  “Now who’s being all literal and shit?” Joey knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him snugly. He had mass on her, but she was stronger than she looked.

  Lucy wisely stayed out of the conflict between her alphas, but once the matter was settled, she murmured, “Be careful.”

  “Always.” He winked at her, then closed his eyes and stepped out of his body.

  Crossing over to the astral plane had become as natural to him as breathing, but there was always a brief moment of disorientation when he opened his eyes to observe his surroundings. The warehouse didn’t look much different astrally than it had in the physical plane, given that it was currently night and most of it was washed in shadow. The black shadows were lighter on the astral plane, allowing him to see more of the contours of the building’s walls and contents. The light from the candles cast a fainter glow, more white than orange as it illuminated the area around it.

  His heightened emotions swirled distractingly, anxiety being the most dominant. He quickly bundled them into a ball and shoved them into the back of his mind while he looked around, but the building seemed to be as empty on the astral plane as it had been on the physical one.

  “Naomi?” he said.

  A puff of gray mist poured out of the planchette like a genie released from its bottle, but the presence that manifested was no genie. It wasn’t Naomi either. A tall, gaunt man stood before him. He looked like he’d stepped out of a history book, with plain trousers and vest beneath his long leather duster. A leather belt was slung low on his hips, equipped with two holsters, one on the spirit’s right and the other in front.

  Chris’s first instinct was to return to his body immediately, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you?”

  The spirit drew one of his pistols so fast that Chris didn’t even see his hand move. “Your demise.” He pulled the trigger.

  Pain exploded in Chris’s chest, and he staggered backward. A hand covered the wound automatically, but rather than blood covering his fingers, black smoke seeped between them, pouring from the wound at an alarming rate.

  He willed himself to leave the astral plane and return to his body, but the pain was too intense. He couldn’t concentrate. It burned and somehow felt icy at the same time, unfortunately reminding him of the time he’d spent trapped on the astral plane, tortured by a nasty witch after his ability was first triggered.

  Blackness crept into the edges of his vision, and though he blinked to clear it, he couldn’t seem to. The spirit walked toward him, spectral spurs jingling and pistols once again holstered. He grabbed Chris’s neck and squeezed, cutting off his air. But he shouldn’t need air on the astral plane, should he? The thought was at odds with the burning sensation in his chest, which was already on fire from the spectral wound.

  The last thought he had before blackness claimed him entirely was that if this didn’t kill him, Joey might.

  “How long has it been?” Joey asked, her worry growing with each passing heartbeat.

  “About fifteen seconds since the last time you asked,” Lucy said, but she sounded worried too.

  It took both of Joey’s arms to hold Chris against her chest, so she couldn’t reach her phone, much less check the time. She breathed a frustrated sigh and leaned her head against Chris’s. “A few seconds, he said,” she muttered under her breath.

  Lucy heard her anyway. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just having a chat with Naomi.”

  “He would’ve come back to tell us he was going to be longer, though. Wouldn’t he?”

  Lucy shrugged, and Joey was no more certain than she was. He’d been off ever since meeting her at Jumpin’ Java, but surely he wouldn’t be so callous as to leave her sitting there, fearing the worst?

  What was the worst, anyway? That he’d get stuck outside his body again? It didn’t seem likely, given the amount of practice he’d been putting in with Cathy. He spent almost as much time with her godmother as he did with her, she sometimes thought. Maybe more.

  At the five minute mark, Joey shook her head. “Something’s not right.”

  “Do you want me to try talking to Naomi again? Maybe she can talk to him for us.”

  “He should be able to hear us just fine himself, we just can’t hear him.”

  Lucy consider
ed that a moment, then hollered, “Hey Chris! Everything okay over there?”

  Why didn’t I think of that?

  She was scared, that’s why. Chris’s body remained solid and warm against hers. His chest continued to rise and fall. But she couldn’t help but think of the times she’d nearly lost him to the astral realm. His study and practice was supposed to make mishaps less likely. But there was so much about the place they didn’t know.

  What if she never got to tell him how sorry she was about putting the offer in for the studio over his objections? Because she was. If it was important enough for her that she wanted to do it on her own, she should’ve at least talked to him about that.

  What if the last thing she ever said to him was, “Now who’s being all literal and shit?”

  She mentally shook herself. She couldn’t think that way. But as the seconds continued to tick by without any word from him, her worry only grew. If she were a nail biter, her nails would be down to the quick. She couldn’t pace or clean anything, not while holding Chris. And if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was doing nothing when she could be doing something.

  “Pack up,” she said.

  Lucy hesitated. “What if—”

  “We’re leaving.” Joey gave her packmate a level look.

  Lucy met her challenging stare for several seconds, then shifted her eyes elsewhere and began packing up without another word.

  While Lucy stowed the Ouija board and its accouterments, Joey shifted around until she could lay Chris gently down on the filthy floor, then got to her feet and hoisted him in fireman’s carry. It was awkward due to his much greater body mass, but she managed.

  They stole out the back door again, and Joey passed Lucy her keys after settling Chris in the back seat.

  “Home?” Lucy asked.

  “Cathy’s.” Joey climbed into the back seat and put her belt on, then shifted Chris so his head was pillowed in her lap.

  “I’ve never been there…”

  “I’ll text you the address, okay? Just get in the goddamn car and drive.”

  She didn’t mean to snap, but her wolf was on edge, anxious and close to the surface. Lucy’s eyes widened, but she swiftly hauled open the driver’s door and climbed in.

  “I’m sorry,” Joey said softly after closing her own door. “I’m just worried.”

  “I know,” Lucy said, meeting her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “I am too. But it’ll be okay. He always comes back, right?”

  Joey sighed. “Yeah. Let’s just hope tonight’s not the exception to the rule. I’ll call her while we’re on the way to make sure she’s up.”

  They were about five minutes down the road when Chris finally stirred to wakefulness with a soft groan. Relief flooded Joey as she smoothed his hair back from his forehead, then threaded her fingers through it and gripped a handful, earning a hiss in response.

  “Password?” she asked quietly. Probably unnecessary since he still wore his charm, but one could never be too careful when it came to bodysnatching.

  “Vampirella. Easy there… I’m not ready to start losing my hair.”

  “He’s back,” Joey said for Lucy’s benefit while easing her grip on Chris’s hair.

  “Thank god,” Lucy replied. “Any change of course?”

  “Not sure yet. Are you okay, babe?”

  He paused as if taking stock, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

  Joey smacked his head and he flinched, nearly falling off the seat. She grabbed his arm to prevent it. “That was for scaring the bejesus out of me. What the hell happened?”

  “Cripes, woman…” He sat up beside her, scooting over to the other side of the car and reaching for the seat belt. They’d had too many automobile mishaps in the last year; strapping in was second nature now for both of them.

  “Still waiting,” she said.

  “It wasn’t Naomi.” He scrubbed his hands down his face, then shook his head. “Where are we going?”

  Joey frowned. “That’s it? It wasn’t Naomi? That’s all you’ve got for me?”

  He eyed her, brows knitting. “He shot me. Or, rather, my spirit. Obviously I’m still here.” He touched his chest briefly before lowering his hand. “I blacked out, or whatever the spirit equivalent of that is, I guess. And I woke up here. Which brings me back to: Where are we going?”

  “I told you going astral with a questionable spirit around was a bad idea.” Joey folded her arms and shook her head, relieved beyond measure that he was okay but still testy.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Lucy, where are we going since your other Alpha obviously isn’t going to tell me?”

  “Don’t put me in the middle of this. I’m just the driver,” Lucy said.

  Smart woman.

  “Aunt Cathy’s,” Joey snapped.

  Chris rubbed his neck. “At this hour?”

  “You were gone for over ten minutes! I didn’t know what else to do!”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “I should’ve listened to you. But I didn’t think a quick peek would be that big a risk. Truce?”

  Joey bit the inside of her lip but nodded. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m only angry because I was so scared, and now I’m in the back seat and you know what that does to me.” Truth be told, her claustrophobia hadn’t been triggered until she brought the subject up. She’d been completely distracted by her worry for Chris. But now that the crisis had passed, the car’s frame felt especially boxy, and she had to take a deep breath to calm the tremor in her stomach.

  He offered a hand across the seat, like an olive branch stretched across an unfathomable gap. She took it and squeezed. What she really wanted to do was climb into his lap and bury her face in his neck, but that could wait until they were alone and not in a moving automobile.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” she said softly.

  “Me too. And if it’s all the same to you, I don’t think we need to bother Cathy. It’s late, and I feel fine. Home?”

  “Home,” she conceded, fishing her phone out with her free hand to let Cathy know they wouldn’t be by after all.

  Silence spread through the car afterward. Joey stared out the window at the city lights sliding past. Even though she’d felt justified in the moment, maybe she’d jumped the gun about waking up Cathy and rushing Chris to her. Embarrassment threaded itself through the other emotions swirling around inside her, weaving a complex tapestry. Her fingers remained curled with Chris’s on the seat between them, and she glanced over at him, but he might as well have been miles away.

  She had to repair the rift between them somehow. She just wished she could think of something that didn’t involve giving up on her dreams.

  9

  The séance had been a bust.

  They wouldn’t know for sure if Naomi’s spirit yet lingered unless they performed a few more at various locations around the city, but given that their first séance had been hijacked by a hostile spirit, Chris wasn’t keen to try again. He had a faint, lingering ache in his chest from his astral encounter, but it was probably all in his head.

  That meant they were going to have to do some old-fashioned investigating, and that’s why the next morning found Chris back at Leslie’s Diner—though guilt assailed him over skipping out on Colt’s trial. But it was his hope that Naomi’s co-workers might be able to produce some information relevant to her disappearance.

  Naomi had worked at the family-owned greasy spoon in Kirkland for the last five years. The whole place always smelled like bacon, like it was baked into the walls. Chris and his wolf both approved. It also smelled like pancakes and syrup, which with the bacon sounded like a well-rounded breakfast to him. There was a reason he’d volunteered for this particular errand, and it had a lot to do with not wanting the protein shake Joey had offered to make him for breakfast before he left.

  The dining room was packed, but there was a tiny two-top in the corner that an unfamiliar waitress led him to and dropped him off with a menu and a
promise to return in “just a sec.”

  Once seated, he scanned the menu to make a quick selection, but it was several minutes before the harried waitress returned.

  She hovered a carafe of coffee over his table wordlessly, and he turned his mug over so she could fill it up with steaming bean juice.

  “You ready to order, hon?” Her name tag read “Amy” and her long brown hair hung in a thick braid down her back.

  “Yeah, I’ll have the number two special with bacon.”

  “How do you want your eggs?”

  “Scrambled. Thanks, Amy.”

  She paused, then glanced down at her name tag and laughed. “Six months, and I still forget I’m wearing that sometimes.”

  He smiled and handed the menu back to her. “Something special going on today? It seems busier than usual.”

  “We’re down by two waitstaff this morning, but I’ll get this out to you ASAP.”

  He watched her as she bustled off to turn the order in, narrowly avoiding colliding with a waiter coming out of the kitchen with a giant tray full of plates on the way. It looked like a well-choreographed dance, but Chris wondered just how many collisions took place on a daily basis.

  It hadn’t occurred to him when he decided to visit Naomi’s workplace to try to talk to her co-workers that maybe the breakfast rush wasn’t the best time to do so. Maybe he should have breakfast and come back later. He might be able to slip into the courthouse for a little of Colt’s trial in the interim, and assuage his guilty conscience a bit? Rubbing his chest absently, he sat back in his chair to wait for his food. His eyes rose automatically to the television mounted on a nearby wall, where the local news was airing a report on a recent rash of animal attacks. By the time his food arrived, he’d talked himself into staying put until things quieted down, unsure of quite when that gap between the breakfast rush and the lunch rush might occur.

  Three hours, one fine breakfast, and six cups of coffee later, the crowd in the dining room had finally started to thin out. Unfortunately, the waitstaff had also begun to eye him a bit oddly as he sat in the corner, nursing cup after cup of coffee and fiddling with his phone. Fortunately, his lycanthrope constitution meant he wasn’t completely wired, but he was definitely feeling the caffeine by then.