“Cullen.” She chewed it over with her conscience while he opened the car door and delved inside. It was okay to ask, she decided. “What are you going to tell Rule about Toby?”
“Can’t tell you.”
She stiffened. “I know he deserves to learn it first, but he’s not here and I’m involved, too.”
“I meant exactly what I said,” he explained—patiently, for him, since he snapped out the words without burning anything. He straightened, holding a small brown paper bag in one hand and his backpack in the other, and slammed the car door. “I can’t tell you. I’m not supposed to tell Rule, either, but I will—if he promises not to repeat it to his father.”
She blinked. “You want him to keep secrets from his Rho? Is that allowed?”
“Of course not. Tell me about these ghosts the little girl has seen. Rule said they screamed at her.”
“That’s the way Talia put it.” They fell into step together, heading for Hodge’s house. “The screaming is distressing or painful for her. What’s in the bag?”
“Grave dirt. She said the other ghosts were frightened?”
“Yes—at least, her main contact among them told her that. The one she calls the tall man. What in the world do you need grave dirt for?”
“A spell. Like I said, I stopped off on the way here. And let me tell you, it was not easy to find dry grave dirt. This child—Talia—said the ghosts call him a ghost-maker?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. “I need to talk to her.”
“If Rule’s able to bring them back to Mrs. Asteglio’s for pizza, you’ll have a chance to do that. Though I don’t know that the parents will agree. They’re not fans of lupi, from what the kids said last night.”
“Oh, Rule will probably talk to them himself. I told him I need to see the girl. Not only will he sound utterly trustworthy—”
“He is utterly trustworthy.”
“Which makes it easier for him,” Cullen agreed cheerfully. “I have to work much harder at it, and usually have to settle for appearing harmless. No one mistakes Rule for harmless, but he has that whole prince-of-my-people thing going for him.”
True. “Cullen, Talia said Toby keeps the ghosts away. Rule had never heard of ghosts being repelled by lupi.”
“Oh, that.” He tossed one hand, flinging away a foolish notion. “No, they aren’t repelled by us, but our innate magic suppresses the type of magic used by mediums. I’m not sure of the mechanism, but the Etorri Rhej . . .” He glanced at her, smiling. “You’ve met her.”
“Oh, yes.” Lily smiled in spite of herself, thinking of that wedding.
“She says the effect is heavily localized. She has to move only a few feet away from one of us for her Gift to function. Of course, she’s an extremely strong medium, so Talia’s Gift may be tamped down at a greater distance. But that’s what the girl is experiencing—a dampening of her Gift, not a repulsion of ghosts.”
A repulsion of ghosts. Was that like a gaggle of geese or an exaltation of larks? Lily noticed that her smile had lingered. Funny how Cullen could have that effect when he wasn’t making her want to punch him. “Is there any way you can make a shield for her, or something along those lines? I’m worried about those mind-ripping screams.”
“A shield, no. I haven’t deciphered the ones I was given enough to re-create them. But didn’t you say the sheriff here has a spell that damps down his Gift?”
“I don’t know if he’ll share it. He doesn’t want anyone to know about his Gift, so he won’t be happy I told you. Can ghosts do real damage to Talia?”
“Normally, no.” Cullen turned grim. “But these aren’t normal ghosts.”
“I seldom hear ‘normal’ and ‘ghosts’ used together. What’s different with these?”
“You’re going to have to wait until I confirm something. Is that the house?”
“Yes. You see something funny about it?” Cullen was like her, in a way. She touched magic. He saw it.
He gave a noncommittal hum and strode for the front door.
“Let me get the key.” She dug into her purse.
“Not necessary.” He wiggled his fingers at the knob—reached for it, turned it, and opened the door.
She huffed out a breath. “You did that to annoy me.”
“Certainly, but I also hate to pass up a chance to show off. No, don’t come in. Stay on the threshold for now. You don’t soak up magic like a dragon would, but you might have an effect on a spell this delicate.”
Startled, she stopped. “You think I can affect spells?”
“Undetermined,” he murmured, kneeling in the center of the living room with his little bag of dirt. He pulled a candle stub out of his backpack. “But possible, especially with spells that depend more on finesse than power. I’d like to do some tests, but . . .” He sighed as he drew out a square sheet of brown paper covered with arcane symbols, spreading it on the floor in front of him. “Not the time for that, is it? There’s never enough time.”
“You aren’t setting a circle.”
“Circles keep things out or in. That’s not the goal here.” He placed the candle stub dead center on the paper, frowned, and moved it an imperceptible fraction closer. “Now hush.”
She hushed. He began chanting, his voice soft, the words utterly alien. It was only a few phrases, she realized, repeated over and over. He did that awhile, then waved at the candle stub. It lit.
Still chanting quietly, he dug into the bag, then held his fist over the candle flame and cried out sharply. “Ka!”
He flung the dirt up. The candle flame sputtered—and sprinkled itself over the paper like burning dust. And the dirt he’d tossed hung, suspended, in the air. As Lily stared, it began moving, churning in a slow circle, as if stirred by an invisible finger.
Then it exploded in a single, soundless burst.
So did the bits of fire.
“Holy hell.” Cullen sat back on his heels. “It worked.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“YOU didn’t think it would?” Lily snapped. She darted inside to slap at Hodge’s recliner, where several of the bits of splashed fire had landed. “Dammit, Cullen, get some water or something.”
“Oh. Sorry, I forgot.” He held out both hands. All the baby flames leaped toward him, banging together to make a single large flame that danced a few inches above his raised palms . . . then faded away.
Lily quit slapping at the upholstery. “You’re showing off again, but at least this time it was effective. What did this spell do? Other than sling fire and dirt around Hodge’s living room, that is.”
“It’s a Finding spell, of sorts.” Cullen rose, dusting off his jeans. “One I adapted from a couple of Cynna’s kielezo. I’ve used it to find haunts, but couldn’t be sure it would react to traces of the scattered dead.” He frowned. “I expected the dust to go flying. I wonder why the fire did, too.”
“Figure it out later.” The scattered dead: that had an ominous ring. “Are you telling me we’re after a ghost?”
“Yes and no. He’s more of a ghost-maker, like the ghosts said. But he’s definitely dead. Well, mostly dead.”
“Mostly?” This was one of the want-to-punch him times. “I’m sure that means something.”
“I’m afraid this is one of those good news, bad news deals, love. The good news is that I can tell you what has been possessing people.”
“And that would be?”
“A wraith.”
She frowned, trying to match the word with anything she’d heard or read. “Doesn’t that just mean ghost?”
He shook his head. “Ghosts occur naturally from time to time, and are almost always harmless. Wraiths are far from harmless. And far from natural.”