The Voodoo Killings by Kristi Charish

Author:Kristi Charish
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2016-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

GIDEON LAWRENCE

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” the ghost said. He disappeared from the mirror and fog coalesced in the room until he stood before me, exactly as he had looked in the mirror, with his close-cropped blond hair and eighteenth-century clothing, all of him tinged with a ghost-grey sheen. The air temperature around me dropped another few degrees at the ghost’s proximity.

“I’m Gideon Lawrence.” He bared his teeth at me in something approximating a smile. “I believe you have something of mine.”

The hair dryer floated up between us and pointed at my face, though the cord stayed loose enough for me to talk.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but you’ve got the wrong person.”

Gideon lowered his head like a large cat about to pounce. “Wrong answer,” he said. He inclined his head at the door. “Nice try with the sage. Might even have kept me out for another hour. Now where is it?”

I cut my eyes at the door, wondering if the ghost could keep the hair dryer animated and the door locked at the same time. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I said, sinking to the floor. I wrapped my hand around the metal wastepaper basket behind me. An object thrown at ghosts won’t hurt them, but it usually makes them look. I launched it and lurched for the door.

Before I could get the door open, the cord tightened around my neck and pulled me back. I swore.

“Bad idea.” Gideon tsked as I struggled to wedge my hand under the cord. “Now let’s try this again. You met with Maximillian Odu earlier today. What did he give you?”

The cord loosened enough for me to get a handful of words out. “I—He didn’t give me anything!”

A translucent hand shot out and gripped my throat. Ice shot through me at his touch. His hand was so cold the muscles in my throat only shuddered: I couldn’t scream. I thrashed, but my arms and legs only passed through him, suffering more unpleasant shocks of cold.

“I’m out of patience,” the ghost hissed. Ice travelled up my throat, sending my teeth chattering. “What did Maximillian want with you?”

“Nothing! I was the one who called Max. I needed help with a zombie problem.”

Gideon’s eyes turned dark. “Wrong answer.”

Desperate, I tapped the Otherside.

When it flooded into my head, I shrieked. There are different kinds of pain—dull, aching, acute—depending on what kind of damage your nerves are receiving. This was all three.

“You’re either much better at your practice or more reckless than I thought,” Gideon said, an edge of wariness creeping into his voice.

I needed all my concentration to hold the globe but still managed to say, “Both.”

Gideon squeezed harder. “You need to stop this before I do something you’ll regret.”

As my globe settled and I could focus, I realized the ghost was covered in bindings. Thin gold ribbons of inscriptions whirled around him amidst an Otherside haze, criss-crossing his shoulders in tight, orbiting loops. I recognized a handful of the symbols, runes mixed with Latin, but they moved too fast for me to read.

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