Haunted
Page 4
"And what does our daughter desperately need your help with today?" he asked.
Kristof Nast's contribution to "our daughter" had been purely biological, having not entered her life until just days before the end of his. My choice, not his. After I'd become pregnant, I'd skedaddled. Took him thirteen years and a mortal blow to the head, but he'd finally caught up with me.
He cocked his head, listened to the music, and pulled a face. "Well, at least she's out of the boy-band stage. And it could be worse. Bryce went through heavy metal, then rap, then hip-hop, and at each phase I swore the next one couldn't be any worse, but he always found something—" Kristof stopped and waved a hand in front of my eyes.
"Come on, Eve," he said. "Savannah's taste may be questionable, but she doesn't require musical supervision."
"Shhh. Can you hear anything?"
He arched his brows. "Besides a badly tuned bass guitar and vocals worthy of a castrated stray cat?"
"She has a boy up there."
Another frown, deeper this time. "What kind of boy?"
"Human."
"I meant what 'sort' of boy. This isn't the same one—" He closed his mouth with an audible click of his teeth, then launched into a voice I knew only too well, one I heard in my head when he wasn't around.
"All right. Savannah has a boy in her room. She's fifteen. We both know they aren't up there on a study date. As for exactly what they're doing… is that really any of your business?"
"I'm not worried about sex, Kris. She's a smart girl. If she's ready—and I don't think she is—she'll take precautions. But what if he's ready? I barely know this guy. He could—"
"Force her to do something she doesn't want?" His laugh boomed through the foyer. "When's the last time anyone forced you to do something against your will? She's your daughter, Eve. First guy who puts a hand where she doesn't want it will be lucky if he doesn't lose it."
"I know, but—"
"What if they do turn that music down? Do you really want to hear what's going on?"
"Of course not. That's why I'm staying down here. I'm just making sure—"
"You can't make sure of anything. You're dead. That boy could pull a gun on her and there's not a damn thing you could do about it."
"I'm working on that!"
He sighed. "You've been working on it for three years. And you're no better off than when you started."
He hesitated, then plowed forward. "You need to step back from it for a while. Take a break."
"And do what?"
"Well, funny you should ask. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I happen to have a temp job lined up for you. Full of adventure, mystery, maybe even a little danger…"
"Just a little'?"
He grinned. "Depends on how you play it."
I paused, then glanced up the stairs. "We'll talk about it later."
Kristof threw up his hands and disappeared into the wall. I plunked down onto the step. Savannah and I had a special bond he couldn't possibly understand… I only wish that were true. Kris had single-parented both his sons after his wife had left them while his youngest was still in diapers. Soon after we'd met, his secretary had paged him because Sean had been hit in the head during a baseball game.
For barely more than a bump, he'd blown off an important dinner meeting to catch the next plane home.
And that's when my opinion of him had begun the slow but steady shift that led to Savannah.
It had ended there, though. Once I'd realized I was a black witch carrying the bastard child of a Cabal sorcerer heir, I hadn't been dumb enough to stick around and see what his family thought. As for what Kristof thought of me taking our daughter away… well, I'd spent twelve years trying not to think about that. I knew I'd made a mistake, an error in judgment overshadowed only by that final error in judgment I'd made in the compound.
Yet for twelve years I'd been able to coast on my guilt trip, telling myself maybe Kristof hadn't really cared that I'd taken Savannah. Bullshit, of course. But not having him there to say otherwise had made it easier… until six months after my death, when I'd seen him fight for custody of her, and die trying to protect her.
Upstairs, the music ended. Savannah popped in another CD… or switched MP3s… or whatever music came on these days. The next song began, something slow, and definitely soft enough for me to hear giggles and murmurs.
Damn it, Kris was right. Following my daughter to the mall was one thing. Listening to her make out with a boy was wrong. And creepy. But now I was stuck here. If Kristof found out I'd left right after him, he'd know I'd seen his point, and I wasn't ready to admit that. Maybe—
A sharp oath burst from the living room. I took a cautious step toward the corner. In life, I would have strode over there, defensive spell at the ready. But here? Well, here things were different.
Kristof stepped from behind the sofa, picking what looked like cobwebs from his rumpled shirt. The back of his hair stuck straight up, as if someone had run a static-charged hand through it. His tie was shredded.
He gave a fierce wet-dog shake. When he finished, he was immaculate again… except for his tie, which was tucked into his shirt. I plucked it out and straightened it.
"Let me guess," I said. "Wrong turn… again?"
He gave a helpless shrug. "You know how I am with spells."
"Uh-huh."
I glanced back at the stairs. A sigh floated down.
I turned back to Kris. "Want a lift?"
"Please."
Chapter 2
TRANSPORTATION IS MY AFTERLIFE SPECIALTY—MY quest to help Savannah meant I spent a lot of time tracking down sources. In other areas of ghost activity, I'm not so good, though I didn't think the Fates needed to send me through that damned orientation course three times. My afterlife world was a version of earth, with some weird subdimensions that we really tried to avoid. Everyone here was a supernatural, but not every supernatural was here. When I'd died, my first thought on waking had been
"Great, now I finally find out what comes next." Well, actually that had been my second thought, after
Kristof Nast's contribution to "our daughter" had been purely biological, having not entered her life until just days before the end of his. My choice, not his. After I'd become pregnant, I'd skedaddled. Took him thirteen years and a mortal blow to the head, but he'd finally caught up with me.
He cocked his head, listened to the music, and pulled a face. "Well, at least she's out of the boy-band stage. And it could be worse. Bryce went through heavy metal, then rap, then hip-hop, and at each phase I swore the next one couldn't be any worse, but he always found something—" Kristof stopped and waved a hand in front of my eyes.
"Come on, Eve," he said. "Savannah's taste may be questionable, but she doesn't require musical supervision."
"Shhh. Can you hear anything?"
He arched his brows. "Besides a badly tuned bass guitar and vocals worthy of a castrated stray cat?"
"She has a boy up there."
Another frown, deeper this time. "What kind of boy?"
"Human."
"I meant what 'sort' of boy. This isn't the same one—" He closed his mouth with an audible click of his teeth, then launched into a voice I knew only too well, one I heard in my head when he wasn't around.
"All right. Savannah has a boy in her room. She's fifteen. We both know they aren't up there on a study date. As for exactly what they're doing… is that really any of your business?"
"I'm not worried about sex, Kris. She's a smart girl. If she's ready—and I don't think she is—she'll take precautions. But what if he's ready? I barely know this guy. He could—"
"Force her to do something she doesn't want?" His laugh boomed through the foyer. "When's the last time anyone forced you to do something against your will? She's your daughter, Eve. First guy who puts a hand where she doesn't want it will be lucky if he doesn't lose it."
"I know, but—"
"What if they do turn that music down? Do you really want to hear what's going on?"
"Of course not. That's why I'm staying down here. I'm just making sure—"
"You can't make sure of anything. You're dead. That boy could pull a gun on her and there's not a damn thing you could do about it."
"I'm working on that!"
He sighed. "You've been working on it for three years. And you're no better off than when you started."
He hesitated, then plowed forward. "You need to step back from it for a while. Take a break."
"And do what?"
"Well, funny you should ask. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I happen to have a temp job lined up for you. Full of adventure, mystery, maybe even a little danger…"
"Just a little'?"
He grinned. "Depends on how you play it."
I paused, then glanced up the stairs. "We'll talk about it later."
Kristof threw up his hands and disappeared into the wall. I plunked down onto the step. Savannah and I had a special bond he couldn't possibly understand… I only wish that were true. Kris had single-parented both his sons after his wife had left them while his youngest was still in diapers. Soon after we'd met, his secretary had paged him because Sean had been hit in the head during a baseball game.
For barely more than a bump, he'd blown off an important dinner meeting to catch the next plane home.
And that's when my opinion of him had begun the slow but steady shift that led to Savannah.
It had ended there, though. Once I'd realized I was a black witch carrying the bastard child of a Cabal sorcerer heir, I hadn't been dumb enough to stick around and see what his family thought. As for what Kristof thought of me taking our daughter away… well, I'd spent twelve years trying not to think about that. I knew I'd made a mistake, an error in judgment overshadowed only by that final error in judgment I'd made in the compound.
Yet for twelve years I'd been able to coast on my guilt trip, telling myself maybe Kristof hadn't really cared that I'd taken Savannah. Bullshit, of course. But not having him there to say otherwise had made it easier… until six months after my death, when I'd seen him fight for custody of her, and die trying to protect her.
Upstairs, the music ended. Savannah popped in another CD… or switched MP3s… or whatever music came on these days. The next song began, something slow, and definitely soft enough for me to hear giggles and murmurs.
Damn it, Kris was right. Following my daughter to the mall was one thing. Listening to her make out with a boy was wrong. And creepy. But now I was stuck here. If Kristof found out I'd left right after him, he'd know I'd seen his point, and I wasn't ready to admit that. Maybe—
A sharp oath burst from the living room. I took a cautious step toward the corner. In life, I would have strode over there, defensive spell at the ready. But here? Well, here things were different.
Kristof stepped from behind the sofa, picking what looked like cobwebs from his rumpled shirt. The back of his hair stuck straight up, as if someone had run a static-charged hand through it. His tie was shredded.
He gave a fierce wet-dog shake. When he finished, he was immaculate again… except for his tie, which was tucked into his shirt. I plucked it out and straightened it.
"Let me guess," I said. "Wrong turn… again?"
He gave a helpless shrug. "You know how I am with spells."
"Uh-huh."
I glanced back at the stairs. A sigh floated down.
I turned back to Kris. "Want a lift?"
"Please."
Chapter 2
TRANSPORTATION IS MY AFTERLIFE SPECIALTY—MY quest to help Savannah meant I spent a lot of time tracking down sources. In other areas of ghost activity, I'm not so good, though I didn't think the Fates needed to send me through that damned orientation course three times. My afterlife world was a version of earth, with some weird subdimensions that we really tried to avoid. Everyone here was a supernatural, but not every supernatural was here. When I'd died, my first thought on waking had been
"Great, now I finally find out what comes next." Well, actually that had been my second thought, after
