Embraced By Darkness (Riley Jenson Guardian 5)

I shoved the string around my neck, then tucked the little bag inside my jacket. That way, it was out of the way if I had to move fast.

Marg leaned forward and sprinkled something white into my hair.

"Now what?" I said, resisting the urge to shake my head.

"Pure salt. Works as a ward because evil hates it."

"This is a vengeful soul we're dealing with here, not evil."

She shrugged. "Same basics."

"And how many times have you done something like this?"

"It's not the experience that matters," she said calmly. "It's the knowledge."

Yeah, right. Believing that totally. I crossed my arms and scanned the night. Gravesites loomed out of shadows and wisps of white drifted about almost aimlessly. Part of me wondered what held them here, but I had no intention of opening myself up to them and finding out.

I returned my gaze to Marg. She and her assistant had begun to surround the opened grave with incense sticks while murmuring under their breaths.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, once they'd finished.

"We're going to start the summoning," she said. "Let us know if you feel his presence."

"Right."

I rubbed my arms and tried to ignore the growing sense of trepidation. None of the other women seemed concerned, but then, I'd seen what Wilson could do to people. They hadn't.

Marg and one of her assistants joined hands at the base of the grave and began to chant. Their words were so soft they were snatched away by the wind long before they reached my ears, but the power of them lingered, a sharpening spike of electricity that ran across the night and had the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

I scanned the darkness, my senses - psychic and regular - on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. The branches of the nearby trees tossed in the breeze, and in the distance, traffic rumbled. It might have been after midnight, but Sydney Road was never empty of life. And that worried me - especially when we were dealing with a soul who had the ability to control others.

The chanting continued. The feel of electricity in the air remained at the same sharp level, but something else ran under that power now. A throbbing, whispering demand that rode the wind.

Uneasiness swirled through me. I rubbed my leather-clad arms - an action that oddly sent little sparks skittering into the darkness - and scanned the graves again.

The wispy souls had disappeared. Only gravestones, tossing tree branches, and thorny roses were to be seen now. I wondered if the magic had chased the souls off, or whether it was something else.

Like Wilson being forcibly returned from his nightly hunting trip.

My gaze went back to Marg. She seemed to be putting more power into her chant now, her lips moving quickly and forcefully. I still couldn't hear the words, and I was beginning to think the wind had little to do with that.

I shivered. Tension wound through my body, and my nerves felt stretched to the limit. I flexed my fingers, trying to relax, but it didn't really do a whole lot of good. The sense of power and demand was growing, and the night seemed to hold its collective breath.

The third woman began lighting the incense sticks. They spluttered, the faint smells of rosemary and sandal wood touching the air before being spun away by the wind. She only lit half the sticks, leaving one side unlit and open. Then she repeated the process using the salt.

Were they leaving a gate so the spirit could reenter his coffin? If so, they were being overly hopeful. Somehow I didn't think getting Wilson back to his deathbed was going to be so straightforward.

In the distance, a horn blared, the sound cutting across the night. A car engine roared then shot away.

Youths, I thought. Or drunks. Or maybe even both.

Yet the tension in my limbs intensified, and sweat began to trickle down my back. I drew my weapon, feeling suddenly safer with the weight of it against my palm, even if a laser couldn't actually hurt a soul.

Was it this morning that I'd left my weapon locked up, refusing to carry its weight, feeling safer without it?

But now was not the time to worry about such things, because something was coming.

Awareness skittered along the outer reaches of my psychic senses, a darkness that was all power, all hate.