One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress 6)

"Do you confess your pact with the Devil, Hexe?" The words were softly spoken, almost wheedling in tone. "If you do, I may yet spare your life."

That made me snort. "Even if I didn't know better from Elisabeth, did you miss the part where I read your book? That includes the section where you rationalize lying to prisoners about letting them live as part of being a good Inquisitor."

His fist smashed across my jaw, making my lip bleed before it healed. "Confess and renounce your allegiance to the Great Deceiver!"

"Judging from how surprised Sarah was when you turned on her, I'd say that label fits you to a tee, also," I noted.

His brows drew together, and he advanced until that reeking breath made me thrilled that I didn't need to breathe anymore. "You incite me as if you wish me to continue."

I shrugged as much as my bound hands would allow. I had a plan, but I wasn't about to let him in on it. Besides, as long as his attention was on me instead of Francine and Lisa, I'd take all the abuse he could dish out.

Well, within limits, I amended to myself as he grasped the center of my shirt and carefully pulled the material away from the hilt of the knife. He'd already taken my jacket off and done something with it, leaving me in my simple black button-down blouse and jeans. Once my blouse was free of the blade, he pulled it open in opposite directions with his unnaturally strong grip. The lantern cast flickering light over his face as he stared at my br**sts. Impatiently, he tugged at the front of my bra where the clasp was.

I'd bet my red diamond wedding ring that a pig like him had only been able to get it up when he was human if the women had been helpless and terrified. Now that he was a ghost clad in flesh, he probably didn't have that issue; but with the look he gave me when he opened my bra, he wanted me to cringe away in shame. I didn't; only my skin was bare, but it was his soul that was exposed with these actions. I wasn't ashamed when Kramer roughly handled my br**sts, avoiding the knife jutting between them. I was furious. I wanted to rip him to pieces, then burn each of them into ashes, but rage wasn't what I needed right now. In order to send out my supernatural LoJack signal, I needed something else.

It wasn't hard to tap into enough guilt and regret to make my throat tighten and moisture leap to my eyes. All I needed to do was remember a day several years ago when I'd kissed Bones, told him I loved him . . . and then betrayed him by leaving without a trace. At the time, I thought leaving him was the only way to protect him, and Don did a good job by keeping me hidden for over four long years. But all it did was make both of us miserable until Bones finally found me.

Four years. We'd been apart longer than we'd been together, and that was because I turned my back when I should have stood my ground. Bones might have forgiven me for that, but I'd never forgive myself. The memory of the one mistake I wished I could undo more than any other made that moisture leave my eyes and spill down my cheeks. The tears flowed faster, dripping down to land on his hands. Kramer stopped squeezing my flesh to look at the pink wetness with cruel satisfaction.

"Cry more of your bloody tears, Hexe. They only prove your tie to Satan."

"What they prove is that vampires don't have as much water in their bodies as humans, idiot," I said, relishing the ringing slap he gave me because it drew more of that needed moisture from my gaze.

Then he ran his rancid mouth over my skin, careful of the knife, his few brownish teeth leaving grooves in my flesh. Disgust rippled over me, but I fought to ignore him, turning my thoughts from revulsion and regret to the quiet, white nothingness I'd felt the last time I tapped into the power of the grave. It wasn't right beneath surface like it had been before. I had to search. Pain from the blade and Kramer's groping lower down my body took away from my concentration, but I strained to push those things aside. I needed to find that faint spark inside. Most of my power was gone, but not all of it. It had to be within me somewhere . . .

Cool, soothing stillness seemed to brush over the throbbing from the silver and the anguish of my regrets, lessening both of them with that single caress. Despite the tears still leaking from my eyes, I smiled. That's right. Accessing this power meant letting go, not hanging on to emotional or physical anguish. I concentrated on the blissful emptiness that fleeting caress hinted at, and finally found the remaining ember I'd been looking for. It was only a tiny speck compared to what it had been months ago, but even still, it resonated. God, I'd forgotten how wonderful that quiet abyss was! It felt like coming home. Now the tears that fell from my cheeks were full of the most indescribable peace. If the power stemmed from brushing the edges of eternity, death truly was nothing to be afraid of.

Kramer drew back, looking at me with a mixture of degeneracy and confusion.

"Why don't you beg me to stop? Why are you so silent?"

I pulled myself away from the alluring embrace of the grave enough to hold on to the power, but still focus on him.

"You'd only like it if I begged you, and you've pegged me all wrong if you think I'd do anything you like. Know what else you're wrong about? The reason behind these tears."

That inner speck felt like it was humming now, the whiteness eating away at the pain from the knife in my chest.

"You think they're a sign of weakness. That I've given up, just like you think your flesh makes you stronger. Wrong. Your flesh makes you weak, and these tears are stronger than any weapon you can imagine."

He leaned closer, the stinking breath from his words falling against my face. "You enjoy crying? I will see to it that you don't stop."

Then Kramer frowned, cocking his head to the side. He ran his hand over me again, but in wariness this time.

"You feel . . . strange," he muttered.

"Do I vibrate?" I asked, my voice coming out as a throaty whisper. "Do you feel drawn like you did when you followed the line of energy that led you to me in Ohio, in St. Louis, in Sioux City, and the farmhouse? Do you know why you're feeling it so strongly again now?"

He reached out to swipe his hand across my face, staring at the pink wetness clinging to it with growing concern instead of triumph.

"There's something in these," he drew out.

"That's right," I said, caressing each word. "Power."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Back when I had the full force of Marie's borrowed abilities in me, I could shed my blood and call forth Remnants. But if I wanted to summon ghosts, I had to shed tears with my inner rallying cry. I didn't have enough of the voodoo queen's power left in me for my tears to compel ghosts near and far to rush to my side. But ghosts who were concentrating on me with all their strength to try to find me, like Elisabeth and Fabian would be doing?