“There he is,” Ugly Eric said, grinning. “He’s here with us now.” The purple knob on his head pulsed and split open. Julian jumped. Under the purple skin, an eyeball gazed at him.
“Holy shit.” A hand pulled at him, threatening warmth and safety. He jerked away, falling, scrambling around one of Barry’s enormous boots. He got to his feet and down the narrow hallway, yanking open the door and racing up the stairs. Not looking back, he slowed to a jog as he rounded the corner and found his car.
Inside, he gripped the steering wheel and breathed out. His windshield fogged. A giant. And a cyclops guy. And he didn’t know what Derek was, but he got the idea that of the three, Derek could be the most dangerous.
“Damn you, Ramon. What have you gotten me into?” This was just as weird as what he’d seen last week at the Fulbright. The whole damn world been invaded.
Chapter Ten
Regge’s necromancer’s ritual list gets weird
Hunter had a gig that afternoon, so I met Ziggy and Cobb at the side door of the hotel. It was still light outside, but barely, and the emergency lighting did nothing for the lobby’s ambience. I introduced them to Nigel, who basically evaporated every time Cobb looked at him.
On the third floor, Ziggy checked out the old man as I waited with Cobb in the hall. It wasn’t long before she joined us, closing the room door behind her.
“You were right. He definitely needs a hospital. He’s severely dehydrated, his heart is irregular, pulse is weak and thready. I’m going to set up an IV. Normal saline, but I’ll need a translator.” She glanced up at Cobb with a smile. “You could check upstairs or walk the perimeter or something?”
This suggestion was met with a frown.
I hid a grin as I spoke to the scowler. “Detective, Nigel blips out when you scowl at him. We need him to translate. I’ll stay to make sure the doctor is perfectly safe.”
Cobb muttered, “I’m not freakin’ scowling.” His frown deepened, but with a nod at Ziggy, he walked toward the elevator. “This is my normal face.”
Ziggy’s smile ignited my own. “He’s really happy to help.”
“I can tell.” We entered the room again, and I called out for Nigel. The ghostly figured popped in looking tired, frightened, and wispy. I understood now what Abraham meant by the word.
Ziggy had Nigel explain her actions as she inserted a wicked-looking needle in Anu’s frail arm. He sat through theprocedure calmly, though I thought he looked even weaker than he had this morning.
“So.” Ziggy spoke in her lowered tone when we were in the hall again. “There’s only so much I can do here. Like you said, he’s old. Supernaturally old is my guess. I don’t know if he’s anotheror has enough magic for longevity.”
I sighed. “From what I gather, he doesn’t seem concerned about dying. I guess when you get that old, it’s inevitable, right? My best guess is that Anu either brought Nigel’s spirit here or found him here, did some sort of spell to give him a flesh-and-blood body. But when Master Anu dies, Nigel’s body also goes, and he’s… well, I’m not sure about that part. But what we’re doing is keeping Nigel’s spirit alive and here. Even if it’s housed in an object not a body.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We have this list of ingredients to get. The necromancer will perform some kind of ritual to sever his connection with Nigel and—” I hesitated. “Nigel says he’s perfectly happy staying in the hotel, but without a body, he’ll be a—”
“Ghost?” Ziggy’s lips curved up. Jane Zigfield’s expertise had saved my life last year. I’d long since adjusted my skepticism over women’s capabilities. From Izzy’s brilliance to Ziggy’s medical skill, I recognized just how skewed my old society’s viewpoints had been. Score another one for the modern world.
I nodded. “Ghosts need anchors to stay in this plane of existence. An anchor can be anything. A vase, a book, a body.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your homework.”
Cobb joined us then, saying he’d found nothing except two of the pack drinking coffee in the bar. As we headed downstairs, he relayed what he’d learned in the police reports.
The men in the accident near the hotel had fled the scene, but the car was reported stolen from the River LightsCasino. The casino was owned by one of the Native nations in Pennsylvania but had shown up on watchlists for racketeering.
“Racketeering?” I asked, unfamiliar with the term.
“Organized crime—drugs, money laundering, etc.” Cobb said.
I nodded. “Hunter thought they looked like Tony Soprano. The two guys.”
“I got Hunter’s text. Julian Eskridge and Ramon Castenada.” Cobb pulled out his phone, and with a few swipes, he showed me a picture. “Ramon Castenada, is he your diner guy?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve never seen him.”
Another mug shot came into view. A younger man with an innocent look in his dark eyes. His hair was dark too and cut short. “This is several years old, but the only mug shot we got of Julian Eskridge.”
