Haunted
Page 28
Even as a teen, Sean had unabashedly looked up to his father as a role model, did whatever he thought Kris wanted, not because Kris demanded it, or even requested it, but because Sean was that kind of kid, good-natured and eager to please. He'd been ready to follow Kris's example, marry for duty and produce the essential "heir and a spare." But now Kris was gone, and so was Sean's reason for fighting his nature. Yet he still hid it, not yet ready to make that commitment and risk being ostracized by his remaining family.
The time would come, though, when he would take that step, and when he did, he'd need help. His father's help. One more reason I needed to figure out a way for us to break through to the living world. I owed Kris that much.
Now, finally, I'd earned myself some Kristof time.
I found Kris on his houseboat. He was reading in his narrow cabin bed. From the glasses perched halfway down his nose, I knew he was engrossed in something more serious than comic books. Of course, Kris didn't need glasses; all of our physical infirmities are cured in death. But he'd been wearing reading glasses for about ten years before his death, so putting them on had become part of his study habits. Like eating, sleeping, even sex, there are things we continue to do as ghosts long after the need disappears.
I stood in the doorway a moment, watching him stretched out on the bed, pants gone, shirt unbuttoned, socks still on, as if he'd started getting undressed, then become distracted by his studies and forgotten to finish.
I cast a blur spell to sneak up on him. When I got to the end of the bed, I saw the title of the book he was reading. Traditional German Folklore. I hesitated just a moment, then leapt. Kris rolled to the side. I slammed onto the bed and got a mouthful of pillow.
"Saw me, huh?" I said as I lifted my head.
"The moment you stepped in the door."
"Damn." I pulled myself up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Reading up on Nixen?"
"I thought I'd fill in my own blanks, and maybe give you a hand at the same time."
"You didn't need to—"
He lifted a hand to stop my protest, but I beat him to it, pressing my fingers to his lips.
"I was going to say 'You didn't need to… but thank you.' So what have you learned?"
He confirmed that Nixen, like all forms of cacodemon, thrived on chaos. "Thrived" might be the wrong word, implying that they needed it for survival. For cacodemons, chaos is like drugs or alcohol. They get a rush from it, and they'll seek it out whenever they can. Some are addicted, but for most it's a luxury, something to be indulged in sparingly.
He also discovered that Nixen share a couple of common demonic powers. One, they can teleport.
Second, like most demons, Nixen possess superhuman strength. Given what the Fates had said, I was certain the Nix could still teleport. As for superhuman strength… I was definitely adding that to my list of things to ask them about.
"Great stuff." I leaned over him. "I owe you."
"And you can repay me by satisfying my curiosity. What happened after the hospital?"
I didn't get past the part about my epic battle with Janah before he laughed.
" Pummeled by an Angel?" he said.
"Glad you're amused. Next time, you can handle sword-ducking duty."
He smiled. "Next time I suspect it'll be Janah doing the ducking. I'll admit, I'm envious. I've always been curious about the angels."
"Well, keep helping me and you'll probably meet one yourself. Might not be what you expect, though."
I told him about Trsiel. His brows arched.
"From what I've heard, they're usually more… otherworldly," he said.
"Maybe he's playing up the human side for my benefit."
I peered across the room. While I'd been telling him about the case, dawn had erupted into daybreak. I finished my story, then promised to return for another update when I could.
I found Jaime in her condo, awake earlier than I would have expected. She sat on the living-room floor, in front of the TV, following along with a Pilates tape. She was balancing on her rear, legs up and crossed at the ankles.
"Christ," I said. "I'm dead three years and that crap's still alive?"
Jaime thumped over backward, legs still entwined in a position that looked damned uncomfortable. She peered up at me, eyes narrowing.
"That reminds me," I said. "Something I forgot to ask you yesterday."
"How to approach a necro without scaring the shit out of her?"
"Uh, right." I took a seat on the sofa arm as she untangled her limbs. "Might seem obvious, but it isn't. I can't phone first. Can't knock. Can't even walk loudly. I could sing… no, that's pretty scary, too. How about one of those discreet, throat-clearing coughs? Read about them all the time, but never tried it myself.'"
"Just make noise. Any noise. Preferably not right at my ear."
"I've always preferred the element of surprise, but I'll give it a shot." I walked to the TV and made a face at the screen. "I can't believe this crap is still around. Doesn't it put you to sleep?"
"It relaxes me. Gets the tension out."
"So does kickboxing. More useful, too. What do you get from this… besides bored?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits, like she was trying to figure out whether I was making fun of her. When she decided I wasn't, she relaxed and shrugged.
"It keeps me toned."
"So does kickboxing. And it's a damned sight more practical, too. Some guy jumps you in an alley, what are you going to do? Assume the lotus position?"
"The lotus position isn't Pilates. It's—" She shook her head, then flicked off the tape, and grabbed her water bottle. "And what do you need, Eve? I assume you aren't here playing personal trainer."
"Looking for intel, for the next part of my quest. I need to find the Nix's last partner."
Jaime gave a slow nod. "Okay. So she's dead?"
"Probably not. This time I need your hands, not your necro know-how. There's a serious lack of Internet service providers in the ghost world."
"So you need me to search and find a suspect—"
I shook my head. "Just search and print, based on some criteria I'll give you. That should square us for yesterday's haunter extermination job. After that, we'll work out payment as we go along."
The time would come, though, when he would take that step, and when he did, he'd need help. His father's help. One more reason I needed to figure out a way for us to break through to the living world. I owed Kris that much.
Now, finally, I'd earned myself some Kristof time.
I found Kris on his houseboat. He was reading in his narrow cabin bed. From the glasses perched halfway down his nose, I knew he was engrossed in something more serious than comic books. Of course, Kris didn't need glasses; all of our physical infirmities are cured in death. But he'd been wearing reading glasses for about ten years before his death, so putting them on had become part of his study habits. Like eating, sleeping, even sex, there are things we continue to do as ghosts long after the need disappears.
I stood in the doorway a moment, watching him stretched out on the bed, pants gone, shirt unbuttoned, socks still on, as if he'd started getting undressed, then become distracted by his studies and forgotten to finish.
I cast a blur spell to sneak up on him. When I got to the end of the bed, I saw the title of the book he was reading. Traditional German Folklore. I hesitated just a moment, then leapt. Kris rolled to the side. I slammed onto the bed and got a mouthful of pillow.
"Saw me, huh?" I said as I lifted my head.
"The moment you stepped in the door."
"Damn." I pulled myself up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Reading up on Nixen?"
"I thought I'd fill in my own blanks, and maybe give you a hand at the same time."
"You didn't need to—"
He lifted a hand to stop my protest, but I beat him to it, pressing my fingers to his lips.
"I was going to say 'You didn't need to… but thank you.' So what have you learned?"
He confirmed that Nixen, like all forms of cacodemon, thrived on chaos. "Thrived" might be the wrong word, implying that they needed it for survival. For cacodemons, chaos is like drugs or alcohol. They get a rush from it, and they'll seek it out whenever they can. Some are addicted, but for most it's a luxury, something to be indulged in sparingly.
He also discovered that Nixen share a couple of common demonic powers. One, they can teleport.
Second, like most demons, Nixen possess superhuman strength. Given what the Fates had said, I was certain the Nix could still teleport. As for superhuman strength… I was definitely adding that to my list of things to ask them about.
"Great stuff." I leaned over him. "I owe you."
"And you can repay me by satisfying my curiosity. What happened after the hospital?"
I didn't get past the part about my epic battle with Janah before he laughed.
" Pummeled by an Angel?" he said.
"Glad you're amused. Next time, you can handle sword-ducking duty."
He smiled. "Next time I suspect it'll be Janah doing the ducking. I'll admit, I'm envious. I've always been curious about the angels."
"Well, keep helping me and you'll probably meet one yourself. Might not be what you expect, though."
I told him about Trsiel. His brows arched.
"From what I've heard, they're usually more… otherworldly," he said.
"Maybe he's playing up the human side for my benefit."
I peered across the room. While I'd been telling him about the case, dawn had erupted into daybreak. I finished my story, then promised to return for another update when I could.
I found Jaime in her condo, awake earlier than I would have expected. She sat on the living-room floor, in front of the TV, following along with a Pilates tape. She was balancing on her rear, legs up and crossed at the ankles.
"Christ," I said. "I'm dead three years and that crap's still alive?"
Jaime thumped over backward, legs still entwined in a position that looked damned uncomfortable. She peered up at me, eyes narrowing.
"That reminds me," I said. "Something I forgot to ask you yesterday."
"How to approach a necro without scaring the shit out of her?"
"Uh, right." I took a seat on the sofa arm as she untangled her limbs. "Might seem obvious, but it isn't. I can't phone first. Can't knock. Can't even walk loudly. I could sing… no, that's pretty scary, too. How about one of those discreet, throat-clearing coughs? Read about them all the time, but never tried it myself.'"
"Just make noise. Any noise. Preferably not right at my ear."
"I've always preferred the element of surprise, but I'll give it a shot." I walked to the TV and made a face at the screen. "I can't believe this crap is still around. Doesn't it put you to sleep?"
"It relaxes me. Gets the tension out."
"So does kickboxing. More useful, too. What do you get from this… besides bored?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits, like she was trying to figure out whether I was making fun of her. When she decided I wasn't, she relaxed and shrugged.
"It keeps me toned."
"So does kickboxing. And it's a damned sight more practical, too. Some guy jumps you in an alley, what are you going to do? Assume the lotus position?"
"The lotus position isn't Pilates. It's—" She shook her head, then flicked off the tape, and grabbed her water bottle. "And what do you need, Eve? I assume you aren't here playing personal trainer."
"Looking for intel, for the next part of my quest. I need to find the Nix's last partner."
Jaime gave a slow nod. "Okay. So she's dead?"
"Probably not. This time I need your hands, not your necro know-how. There's a serious lack of Internet service providers in the ghost world."
"So you need me to search and find a suspect—"
I shook my head. "Just search and print, based on some criteria I'll give you. That should square us for yesterday's haunter extermination job. After that, we'll work out payment as we go along."
