Margot walked to a set of dark wood shelves, presumably the wine storage, and ran her fingers across the ends of the bottles. Then she stopped moving, fingers still extended like a dancer perfecting a position. She glanced over her shoulder, the motion slow and careful, as if afraid she’d alert whatever had startled her.
But there was nothing there. Nothing but tunnel, Margot, and shelves.
She looked behind her for a moment longer, then turned back to the wine, shaking her head and smiling sheepishly, embarrassed she’d been afraid. And when she exhaled, her breath came out in a cold fog.
“The temperature dropped,” Luc said, and fear knotted in my gut.
That was only the beginning.
“Jesus,” Ethan murmured as something smoky and gray and sinewy snaked across the floor toward his Novitiate. The power of his concern, the buzz of his magic, filled the air around us.
While Margot picked through bottles—turning some to view the labels, checking what I guessed was an inventory list on the end of each row—the thing moved closer to her, the fog coalescing into something that looked almost solid and was nearly, but not quite, the shape of a man . . .
Margot selected a bottle, turned for the door.
The man, or the ghostly approximation, rushed toward her, hand extended, and shoved her forward. The bottle flew from her hand, smashing on the concrete a few feet away and throwing up a spray of wine as she fell, striking her head on the edge of a shelf.
She stayed there for a moment, obviously stunned, before gathering up the nerve to look. By the time she did, the man had dissipated into haze and disappeared again.
Margot rose to her feet unsteadily, pressed a hand to her head, stumbled a bit as she took a step. Pity burned my throat at the sight of her, of the confusion and fear and pain in her eyes. But she seemed to steel herself, took a breath, and headed for the door. She didn’t glance back again.
The video went dark, and silence fell in the Ops Room.
“Did we cause this?” I asked into the quiet, thinking of cold and viscous magic, of a spirit summoned into our world.
Luc frowned. “How could you have caused this?”
Ethan rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “Annabelle found a disturbed grave at Almshouse Cemetery—Cook County’s potter’s field—asked us to take a look. The grave had been opened, the skull taken. She believed the spirit had been summoned.”
Luc’s brows lifted. “By who?”
“She didn’t know, but likely someone who’d been there not long before she arrived. The wards weren’t tripped. So it wasn’t Sorcha.”
“We could feel the magic at the cemetery,” I said. “The same kind of energy Margot described.”
“Did you see anything?” Luc asked, and we shook our heads.
“No,” Ethan said, “but there’s no question something was summoned. The magic was evident, and Annabelle believed it was more than just a disturbed ghost.”
Luc frowned again. “So what are you saying? That the ghost someone called up at Almshouse Cemetery is now haunting Cadogan House? That’s impossible.”
I looked at Ethan, all but felt the guilt etch into my features. “Not if we brought it home.”
Luc and Lindsey went pale. Given that they were vampires, that was something.
“How could that have happened?” Lindsey asked, her voice barely a whisper. She was as brave as anyone I knew. But even vampires had limits where the supernatural was concerned. The risen dead were apparently among hers.
“I’ve no idea,” Ethan said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Certainly not intentionally. We left Chuck, Catcher, Jeff, and Annabelle at the cemetery, did nothing magical between the cemetery and the House. We went to Portillo’s for god’s sake.”
“The ride felt heavy.”
Lindsey looked at me. “Heavy?”
“I felt kind of weighed down,” I said. “I thought it was just a funk from being in the cemetery, the disturbed grave, the horror story factor. Maybe not?”
Ethan looked at Luc. “I want the tunnel locked, and I want the cameras running and the feed monitored twenty-four seven.” That meant enlisting our human counterparts for the job, since we’d be out of commission during daylight hours.
“We can’t show the tape to Margot,” Lindsey said, then looked around at the other guards in the room. “She’d freak, and there’s nothing she can do about it.”