Dangerous Spirits Page 20

  There came the sound of footsteps echoing from below. “Vincent? Henry?” Lizzie called. “The ghosts are gone. Are you still alive up there?”

  Vincent sighed and let go of Henry reluctantly. “Come on,” he said. “Before Mr. Emberey puts in an appearance and finds us in a compromising position. After all this, I’d hate not to get paid.”

  Chapter 19

  “Are you sure it was smart to wait until sundown to do this?” Henry asked.

  He and Vincent stood in the midst of the small clearing where they’d found Norris’s body only a few days earlier. Whether it had any special meaning to Rosanna, neither of them knew, but at least it was some distance from the construction. Hopefully what they meant to bury there would remain undisturbed.

  “I’m sure,” Vincent said. He leaned on a shovel and wiped the sweat from his brow. Henry had started to dig the hole, but his left shoulder remained a mass of dull pain. After watching Henry’s awkward attempts with the shovel, Vincent took it from him and ordered him to stand aside. “I think this is deep enough.”

  Henry took a small wooden box from his coat pocket. Within lay what resembled a scrap of dried leather—all that remained of a tiny heart. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for Rosanna or not,” he confessed. “She suffered at the hands of her community, first when they rejected her baby, and again when they burned her alive. But she murdered Zadock and enslaved a spirit to do her bidding, just as she herself was later enslaved.”

  “I know.” Vincent’s mouth quirked into a slight frown. “But it doesn’t really matter what we feel. We have a job to do.”

  “Yes. You’re quite right.” Henry knelt and placed the box in the hole. When he was done, Vincent shoveled earth on top of it.

  “There.” Vincent patted the last of the loose dirt into place. Handing the shovel to Henry, he tipped his head back and addressed the woods. “We’ve done as you asked. We’ve brought your son back to you.”

  The sensation of being watched crept over Henry’s skin. “Is she here?” he murmured.

  Vincent nodded, but didn’t look at Henry. Instead he kept his eyes fixed on some indeterminate point amidst the trees. “Spirit of Rosanna, your child is at rest. The necromantic jar you created is shattered. Your time in this world ended long ago.”

  A light appeared among the trees. Henry let out a gasp. “Vincent, be careful!”

  The light drew closer and closer, until Rosanna stood before them. Fire wreathed her face, and her blank eyes fixed on them. Henry locked his knees against the urge to grab Vincent and flee.

  Vincent, on the other hand, didn’t seem afraid at all. “Rosanna,” he said, and his voice was gentle even though it still rang with authority. “It’s time for you to rest. To join your child’s spirit in the otherworld.”

  The flames faded, leaving behind only a young woman, not much older than Jo. Her red hair fell around her shoulders, and her green eyes shone with an inner light, set in a pale face whose skin was untouched by flame.

  “Go,” Vincent said.

  She reached out to him with pale fingers. But as her hand drew closer to him, it became less and less substantial, until her entire being dissolved into nothingness.

  For a long moment, the woods around them remained silent. Then a cricket let out a tentative chirp. Soon others of its kind followed suit, until the forest seemed alive in a way it hadn’t before.

  “Well, that’s it,” Vincent said with a weary smile.

  They made their way back to the rail spur, hands linked. Within a few days, the area would again be a hive of activity, as soon as Emberey’s replacement workers arrived from Pittsburgh. But for now it was peaceful, the woods still in the silver moonlight.

  “I can’t wait to get back to Baltimore,” Vincent said as they walked. “I’ve come to the conclusion that all of this country air is terrible for one’s health.”

  Henry snorted. “I imagine country air doesn’t ordinarily come laden with murderous spirits.”

  “Perhaps, but best not to risk it.”

  It got a short laugh out of Henry. The sound echoed, startling the crickets into silence for a few seconds. Uncertain whether he should bring up the subject or not, Henry said, “I’m sorry about Ortensi.”

  Vincent kept his eyes focused on the railroad tracks unspooling before them. “So am I.”

  “The things he said to you about Dunne…I’m sure he lied,” Henry offered. “He meant to convince you to join him in the only way he knew.”

  “Perhaps.” Vincent shook his head. “I let the past blind me to the present. I should never have listened to the things he said about you, about my place in your life. Instead, I blindly followed his lead, just as I would have Dunne’s.”

  “I certainly didn’t help things,” Henry said, squeezing Vincent’s fingers. “I know you’ve forgiven me, but I still feel stupid for lying to you. I was a fool.”

  “No argument there.”

  “Beast.” Henry swatted at him.

  Vincent jumped away with a laugh. But after a moment, his grin wavered. “Will you be honest with me?”

  “I’ll never lie to you again.” What oath would be weighty enough to convince Vincent of his sincerity? “I swear it on my father’s grave.”

  Vincent bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Without your ghost grounder, we would have died a dozen times over last night. Even then, I couldn’t have held the summoned spirits off forever. Your idea to use the arc lamps against the ghosts saved all our lives, and kept Sylvester from escaping with the jar.”

  Henry flushed, although in truth the words pleased him. “It was nothing.”

  “It was everything.” Vincent stopped, forcing Henry to as well. “You’re a great thinker, Henry. An innovator. You have so much to offer the world. Tell me truthfully…even if the answer isn’t what I want to hear…do you regret going into business with Lizzie and me? I know a small shop with modest clientele was never your dream. I know you can do better. If you feel we’re holding you back—”

  Henry pulled Vincent to him, and silenced him with a kiss. “There is your answer,” Henry said, when he could speak again. “But if it isn’t clear enough, allow me to say…I love you, Vincent Night. You and Jo are the most important things in the world to me. No amount of acclaim would mean anything without you to share in it.”

  Vincent’s smile was brighter than the moon, more blinding than the arc lamp. “I love you, too, Henry. More than I can say.”

  Henry’s heart felt too big for words, so he hugged Vincent close. They rested against one another, arms loose around each other’s waists. Henry took a deep breath, the familiar citrus and musk of Vincent’s cologne like a balm to nerves fractured from the last few days.

  He would have been content to stay like that forever. But of course it wasn’t possible. Vincent stole another kiss, then reluctantly pulled free. “We should return to the hotel before anyone comes looking for us. I expect Lizzie and Jo are even now convincing themselves something went horribly wrong with Rosanna. They’ll set out to rescue us if we linger any more.”

  “You’re probably right.” Henry picked up the shovel and rested it against his right shoulder. The left still hurt, and he hoped he hadn’t managed to injure it even further somehow. As they started to walk again, he said, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Always a perilous undertaking.”

  “Oh, ha ha. With such a wit, you should be the one touring the world.”

  Vincent bumped him lightly with his hip. “I’ve always thought my true talents were wasted.”

  “If I may continue,” Henry said with a scowl. “There is a space above my workshop in the back that could be converted into a small apartment. No one would think anything about it if one of the owners of our business moved into it. And no, before you make some clever remark, I’m not talking about Lizzie.”

  Vincent’s dark eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

  Henry shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m saying
I want to be with you. On a daily basis. I’d still have my room above the store itself, of course, but I think we could make the workshop into a comfortable little home. It would give us a bit more privacy, and, well…” he trailed off. “Of course you’ll need time to think about it, and if you say no, I completely—”

  “Yes.”

  Henry stopped walking. “You will?”

  Vincent grinned down at him. “Yes. It’s a brilliant idea. I want to go to sleep with you every night, and wake up with you every morning.”

  Henry felt as though gravity had stopped working, and he might fly off above the trees at any second. “It will take some effort to get it ready.”

  Vincent leaned down and kissed him. “I know. But you’re worth it.”

  He laced his fingers together with Henry’s. Hand in hand, they walked down the tracks out of the forest and into the clear light of the moon.

  Share Your Experience

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  Thank you for your support of independent authors!

  Other books from Jordan L. Hawk:

  Hainted

  Whyborne & Griffin:

  Widdershins

  Threshold

  Stormhaven

  Necropolis

  Bloodline

  Hoarfrost

  SPECTR

  Series 1:

  Hunter of Demons

  Master of Ghouls

  Reaper of Souls

  Eater of Lives

  Destroyer of Worlds

  Summoner of Storms

  Series 2:

  Mocker of Ravens

  Short stories:

  Heart of the Dragon

  After the Fall (in the Allegories of the Tarot anthology)

  Eidolon (A Whyborne & Griffin short story)

  Remnant, written with KJ Charles (A Whyborne & Griffin / Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal story)

  Carousel (A Whyborne & Griffin short story)

  About The Author

  Jordan L. Hawk grew up in North Carolina and forgot to ever leave. Childhood tales of mountain ghosts and mysterious creatures gave her a life-long love of things that go bump in the night. When she isn’t writing, she brews her own beer and tries to keep her cats from destroying the house. Her best-selling Whyborne & Griffin series (beginning with Widdershins) can be found in print, ebook, and audiobook at online retailers.

  If you’re interested in receiving Jordan’s newsletter and being the first to know when new books are released, plus getting sneak peeks at upcoming novels, please sign up at her website: http://www.jordanlhawk.com.

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