“Oh. Being effectively if not actually dead? I try not to think of it. I have plenty of other things to think about instead. I’m finally learning Aramaic, after all—when you’ll actually open the book. This is certainly better than it was, trapped in a brick wall with no access to the world. You can smell the pines and revel in that sensation, and I can appreciate that feeling, even if I can’t smell them myself.”
“Can’t you?”
She closed her eyes, tipped back her head, took a deep, full breath that she didn’t need and wasn’t real.
“Almost. . .like I’m right at the edge. . .and then. . .it vanishes.” She opened her eyes and frowned. “I sometimes think of the mummies in Egypt. The mummification process was meant to preserve them for the afterlife, so they could continue on as they were, in wealth and luxury. And I think—is this it? Is this some sort of afterlife? If we traveled to Egypt, would I meet the old pharaohs, lounging on their boats on the Nile, ancient spirits living strange little half lives?”
Someone clever would probably offer some kind of sympathy, some kind of comfort. But he didn’t know what to say.
“I am grateful for what I have, for what I’m able to do,” she said, determined. “We will meet true death someday, you and I. No need to rush into it. In the meantime, we have work to do.”
Pure impulse made him reach out and tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear. This cleared the view of her profile, the slope of pale cheek, the slender shape of her nose. Glinting dark eyes turned on him, startled but unafraid.
The touch was real. The impulse, the gesture, even if the physicality of it was an illusion, nothing more than shared neurons.
“You’re smiling,” she observed. A question was implicit in the statement. And then he couldn’t stop smiling.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said. He couldn’t have said why, but she didn’t ask. Why didn’t matter. Just that he was smiling, and wasn’t that a thing?
Then she smiled too. “There are a number of spells—more active protection than throwing sage and salt around a room. They’re rather generic—it would be useful to know exactly what we’re up against—but we can perhaps throw them at Peterson and do some good that way.”
“A curse?”
“No. . .more like a wall. We just have to contain the man.”
“Can’t hurt,” he agreed.
She pursed her lips, touched her nose, looking especially thoughtful. How many times had she stood like that in life, considering some problem or other? Did she even realize her quirks had followed her into her afterlife? “I don’t suppose we can get a lock of hair from him, or a fingernail clipping?”
“What was that about assault charges?”
“Right then. We’ll work with what we have.”
Part of him never really slept, waiting for. . .something. There was always something. It wasn’t paranoia—he’d been a hunter too long not to be aware of what was coming up behind him, and there was usually something coming up behind him. So when a knock came at the door, he merely opened his eyes. Nothing startling about any of it. The sky outside the window was dark. Middle of the night, chilled and quiet as stone.
Cormac reached for a gun at the bedside that wasn’t there. Clenched his fist in frustration.
Something’s wrong, terribly wrong.
Yes, of course it was. He checked his phone, in case he’d missed a call or message. Nothing. Time was shy of midnight. He’d slept through the evening.
The knock at the door came again, and Trina’s voice called, “Mr. Bennett? Cormac, are you in there?”
Wearing nothing but sweatpants at the moment, he wasn’t especially interested in opening the door. Let her think he was a sound sleeper.
“Cormac,” Trina called again from the other side of the door, her voice fast and anxious. “I know you’re here because your Jeep is here and the police are here and really want to talk to you.”
He rubbed his face. Then he smelled smoke.
He froze. Nothing seemed to be on fire. This was a flash, like catching a whiff of cigarette smoke. It jolted his nerves.
Oh no
.
He’d left his jeans flung across the end of the bed. The front pocket, where he’d left the other half of the magical alarm, was warm. When he reached in, he found only ash.
We need to get to the cabin.