City of Light (Outcast 1)

“Yes. Though two wore clothes of this world, and one wore pants similar to what you have on.”

While that last bit matched what Penny had already said, it was odd for wraiths to be wearing clothes at all.

“Thanks again for your help.”

He bowed. “My name is Blaine.”

“Thanks, Blaine.” Then I added silently, Cat, time to leave. Her energy seeped from me and the world spun, thick and dark and cold. A hand gripped me, holding me steady.

I drew in a shuddering breath; my hands and feet were heavy with the chill of death, and its frost lingered far too close to my lungs.

“Thanks,” I said after a moment.

“What in hell just happened?” Jonas said. The warmth of his grip seeped

into my body, flushing the chill from my skin.

“I was talking to the ghosts.”

“Which ghosts?” His gaze briefly skated the immediate area, then came back to mine. “Carleen or yours?”

“Carleen.” I gently pulled my arm free, though the heat of his touch lingered, continuing to warm me. “They said the wraiths were here last night, and that they moved the false rift I went through yesterday.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Meaning they’re likely aware someone used it.”

“Or—given I destroyed the security panel in the brothel’s basement—they’re simply being cautious.” My gaze swept the shadows that inhabited this place. “The ghosts also said there were three of them.”

“Three wraiths?”

I nodded. “And all of them wearing clothes.”

“Odd behavior for wraiths.” He frowned. “It’s not as if clothes would hide what they were.”

“No.” I took a deep, steadying breath, then waved a hand. “This way.”

We walked across to the crater that contained the second of the false rifts, but stopped on its rim. The blackness within it crawled across my senses; it was a thick, gelatinous evil that stole my breath and made me want to run. The very last thing I wanted to do was go into that darkness, but there was no other way to discover where this rift might lead.

“The false rift lies at the bottom of this crater, below the shadows.”

“What shadows?”

My gaze shot to Jonas. “What do you mean, ‘what shadows?’” I waved a hand toward the blanket of darkness that lay only inches away from my fingertips. “I mean that.”

He glanced down at the crater, then his gaze came to mine again, his expression curious. “I see nothing. Nothing beyond a weather-torn bomb crater and a sea of white bones.”

“But . . .” I hesitated, glancing at the thick shadows, seeing nothing beyond it. Feeling nothing beyond it. “You really can’t see it?”

“I can’t see whatever it is you see, obviously.” He considered me for a moment, then moved forward, down into the crater. Within three steps he’d disappeared. The ghosts stirred around me anxiously.

“What about now?” he said. “Can you see me, or is there nothing more than shadow?”

The timbre of his voice hadn’t changed. There was nothing of the stress, or the sheer, depressive weight of the darkness that made every step a struggle, in his words.

“Nothing but shadow.”

“Odd. Wait there, and I’ll investigate the base of this crater to see if there’s anything more than old bones.”

“The owners of those bones are watching, so be respectful.”