Page 1 of Peacemaker

Chapter One

The Way Station

I crouched inside Willow-Wisp, watching the vampire master. There was so much wonder and awe in his face that I couldn’t look away.

“You did this.” He didn’t take his stare from the sky as he felt for my hand. “You gave me this.”

I laced my fingers with his because despite everything awful he was, everything terrible he’d done, the sun formed him into something pure. Something miraculous.

Two weeks earlier when he’d awakened in the sun, he’d been unable to do anything but scream. He’d shoved his face into the dirt of Willow-Wisp and waited to burn, waited to die.

And even when he’d begun to accept that it was real, that he was able to take the sun, he couldn’t force his eyes open. He’d knelt with his fingers over his eyes and his face tilted to the bright warmth of the sun, and he’d broken down.

I wasn’t the only one who’d cried with him. No one with a heart could have remained stoic beneath the vast emotional effects of his disbelief, his sweet joy.

He’d spent an eternity in the dark. Coming into the sun was life-changing.

Only Shane had slipped from the graveyard, unable to show his heart. He would cry in front of no one. But I knew that even Shane Copas felt the power of that moment.

I’d crawled to Amias and held him as he’d cried, because I couldn’t bear for him to feel alone in that moment. And I was so grateful, so happy, because someday, that would be me. Someday I, too, would be a vampire. And I would have the sun.

He squeezed my fingers. “I have everything now.”

I smiled. “You can—”

But then I jumped to my feet as a sound like a train roared through my head and a zing of terror streaked after it. There and gone in seconds, but the heaviness of it lingered.

Disoriented and dizzy, I left Amias to fall asleep in the sun as I staggered from Willow-Wisp. I knew what was going on—and I hoped that soon I’d become a little more adjusted to it.

Someone was begging admittance to the way station.

I might not have to be inside the house to open its metaphysical doors, but it would be a while before I got the hang of things. I had to let the benevolent spirits in while either barring the malignant ones or banishing them once they slipped through.

And that was easier said than done.

Once I’d accepted the way station as it had accepted me, I’d become part of it. I felt it. The house lived, and it lived inside me.

I wanted only to protect it.

The Jikininki was waiting for me. He stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed, his hands on his hips. “The house is sighing.”

“Sorry, Jin,” I muttered.

The urgency of the visitor was affecting the house, which in turn affected me. And Jin, apparently.

He was right behind me as I rushed through the house to find the one spot I would allow the spirits to come through.

The kitchen—much to Jin’s chagrin.

He didn’t like the “nasty spirits” coming through his kitchen, he’d said.

I let them come in through the kitchen because it was the most comforting room in the house. It was large, it smelled good, it had an enormous table, and there was always cake. Jin liked to bake.

Once I grew more familiar with my new job, I might let them come through a dedicated room in the basement. But not yet. The kitchen relaxed me. It was my safe space. I wasn’t telling Jin that, but it was true.

And that was where I’d decided to meet and corral the scary ghosts.

I sat down, put my clasped hands on the table, and took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, then.”