Ghost Key by Trish J. MacGregor

Author:Trish J. MacGregor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2012-08-21T06:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Insurrection looked to be imminent. Dominica stood there in Sam Dorset’s body, Liam darting around her, raging, shrieking, a hundred or more brujos shouting at her, at each other, some of them already fighting. And for some reason, the words of Walt Whitman, which she’d read only today on her favorite blog, Gypsy Woman World, came to her: “Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.” She knew her own truth. And it told her to stay with Sam a few moments longer, that he was her mouthpiece for information and news, the voice of journalism, and when he was host to someone other than Liam, he did this job well.

Whit hurried over to her, took her hand, Sam’s hand, his host’s face so pale that he looked as though he were already a ghost. “I’ll take him, Nica,” Whit whispered. “I can’t survive much longer in the mayor’s body. His essence is dead.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In the old days, in the ancient days, a brujo could seize a host and keep that body even if its essence died. “Do it,” she said. “Seize him and I’ll chase down Maddie.”

“You’ll have to put the mayor’s body on ice somewhere so we don’t have another rotting corpse on our hands. In fact, we’re going to have to bring in the dead and put all of them on ice.”

“No problem. Just do it, Whit. Then control this crowd.”

As Whit leaped out of the mayor’s body and into Sam, the mayor’s body simply crumpled to the floor. For moments, Sam’s body accommodated both Dominica and Whit, and nothing worked right. His arms moved in different directions, and his legs refused to move at all. Then Dominica shot toward the ceiling of the market and out through the door, seeking Maddie, that little escapee bitch.

The first thing she saw was a truck idling at the bottom of the shallow hill in front of her, with a young couple tied up in the back of it, surrounded by hungry ghosts. The driver leaped out and ran toward a patch of grass where Maddie, dazed and confused, struggled to stand. Dominica dived into Maddie’s skull with the ease of a scalpel through flesh.

“Shame, shame,” Dominica cooed. “Honestly, Maddie. Give it up. You’ll never escape.”

Silence.

“Suit yourself.”

Dominica quickly checked to make sure Maddie wasn’t injured, then hauled her to her feet, slapped away the dust and bits of grass on her jeans, and turned to face the driver of the truck, Luz, still hosting one of the women from the Coast Guard. “What have we got here?” she asked.

“Are you all right, Dominica?” Luz asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, Luz. Two hostages? How magnificent. From where?”

“From Zee Small’s camp.”

Perfect. This fine young bruja had delivered Dominica from the rage within her tribe. She could use these hostages to prevent an insurrection. “Take them to the hotel. The tribe is going to vote on their fate.”

“Fantastic,” Luz gushed, obviously relieved that she hadn’t injured Dominica’s host and thrilled at the prospect that her hostages would bring her fifteen minutes of fame.

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