I didn’t disagree with him. I also didn’t like the timing—what were the odds that we’d arrived just before the councilmen busted down Grimm’s door? Was it just my luck, or was something pushing us all together? Synchronicity was a true thing, especially in the shadow world.

“Don’t bother,” Davin said, a sneer in his voice. “I need to speak to Corb. He was supposed to gain her confidence, and given how successful he is with the ladies, it should have been no problem. She’ll spill her guts to him if he presses her.”

Son of a bitch. I mouthed the words but kept the sound to myself. Corb’s need to confess suddenly made much more sense. He’d been told to get close to me? To use me? And I’d fallen for it, at least to a degree.

Mother ducking . . . I had to bite my tongue to keep the words inside. The worst part was that he’d apparently told Davin I was useless. And sure, maybe he’d done that to keep the council away from me, but what if he actually thought it was true? Well, whatever his reasons, it was a bunch of hogwash. I was not useless.

Damn it, my own insecurities tried to swallow me whole there in that dark room, and I had to mentally fight them off before I could take another step.

Crash had secrets he didn’t or maybe couldn’t share, and it had been obvious from the beginning that I could be nothing more than a passing fancy for him. While Corb was out of my league, too, I’d thought he was at least honest. Damn it. I was an idiot. I’d let myself believe that maybe one of them—

Nope, I was not going there.

Well, forget Corb. Hell, forget Crash. At this rate, I’d just stick with Robert, thank you very much.

I slowed my breathing and worked to focus on the current predicament I was in. Even if all I had was a sticky napkin as a signed agreement, it would hold up, and I would take it to the bank when I got through the next three days.

I looked at the pages in my lap. Then I pointed to them, drawing Feish’s eyes to the stack. Squishing the edges of the pages with my hands, I could feel something hard buried within the stack. My eyebrows shot up as I peeled the layers back at the edges. There, in the middle of the bunch, was a single piece of silver, a fancy coin with images etched onto it and writing in the middle. More of that same Goblinese I couldn’t read.

I frowned and rolled it in my hand, the silver catching the little bit of light coming in the window. Was this what they were looking for? I was willing to bet at least a dollar on it. Why did I get a feeling that Crash would not only know what it was, but that he might even have been the one to make it?

Which was reason enough to keep it from him. One of the last things he’d made was a knife that would have been used to off Eric.

I stuffed the silver item into my bag, considered the pages, and then put them in too. My bottomless bag was probably one of my favorite magical items—it ate up anything I put into it and didn’t saddle me with the true weight of the item. I pulled my hand out and Black Spells of Savannah and the Undead came out with it, stuck to the side of my fingers.

“Crap,” I whispered. My legs were going numb and tingly, and I slid the rest of the way to the floor.

The book, though . . . it flipped itself open. Yeah, you heard that right.

Flipped itself the duck open.

The pages rippled first one way and then the other, settling on a page with a single line on it.

Of demon skin and angel wing.

That one line had my skin crawling as if it were trying to get off my body on its own.

I closed the book, and shoved it back into my bag, but the thing . . . hell, it fought me. I was wrestling with a damn book. It snapped shut a few times on my finger, and then it grabbed onto the edge of Grimm’s pages and tore them with a terrible ripping sound, like a sticky zipper.

I punched the book in the cover and shoved it to the bottom of my bag. Grimm’s pages were only a little torn, but Jaysus. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Of demon skin and angel wing. That line, though, it was almost as if I’d heard it before . . .

“How are we going to get out?” Feish whispered into my ear, giving me more than a little spit. “They will be looking for us, and when they find us, they will search us. They will find everything.”

I nodded. “Thinking. Give me a minute.” We needed a way to hide my bag. That way we’d escape with the object and the pages, even if we were frisked. I didn’t dare leave it behind because Roderick and Davin would no doubt search the building.

I looked at Robert quietly swaying next to Feish, a thought blooming.

“Robert,” I said quietly. “Most people can’t see you. I want you to take my bag.” I handed it over to him. “You think you can take it with you when you turn into a single finger bone?”

Robert slowed his swaying. “Friend.”

“Yes, can you hide this?” I pointed at the bag on his shoulder, blinked, and he was gone. My bag had disappeared with him, and the finger bone I carried around lay on the floor.

I scooped it up and tucked it into my bra. If they frisked me that well, they deserved to find a bone in my bra.

7

We waited another thirty minutes until the voices from Grimm’s room slid away and the sound of feet faded, leaving us sitting in silence in the dark in a haunted hotel. Robert’s finger bone was tucked between my boobs, and Feish and I moved to the door. The old bedroom in the Marshall House that we hid in smelled musty with disuse, something that had only slowly become apparent to me.

“You pick up on any ghosts?” Feish asked as we waited by the door.

“Just that initial pull and then nothing,” I said softly. I wondered at that. I mean, I obviously had an affinity for the dead, more so after my little dying escapade in the graveyard not long ago. And the ghosts here in the Marshall House were notorious for being aggressive, and in some cases, downright violent if they decided they didn’t like you. And yet I’d felt nothing more than that slight pull toward the stairs, and then another pulse toward Grimm’s hallway and his room.

Almost like whatever entity was here had wanted me to find Grimm and his pages. Or had Grimm himself drawn me to him?

Interesting. I tucked those thoughts away and focused on the present moment.

I twisted the door handle and peeked out. The hallway was empty, which was what we’d hoped for, although we were ready to rumble if we were stopped. Who was I kidding, there would be no rumbling. More like talking smack and making a run for it while they were distracted by my insults.

If we got caught, Feish would let me do the talking. The story we’d concocted was that we were here doing some ghost hunting for a client, nothing more, and if they questioned it, then I would tell them about the silvery shadows that had led me down the hall.

We walked toward the elevator, hit the button, and stepped in. There was no one with us, and partway down, the lights in the elevator flickered. The car slowed and I let out a groan, hitting the button for the first floor.

“No, no getting stuck in an elevator!” I snapped as I jammed the button harder as if that would get my point across.

The elevator stopped completely and the lights went out. “Are you kidding me?” I yelled into the darkness. “Seriously?”

Feish grabbed my arm around the bicep and squeezed hard enough for her nails to dig in. “Feish, ouch, ease off!”

“I not touching you,” she said softly.

I went very still and looked over my shoulder, not really sure I’d be able to see anything in the pitch black. The pale, shimmering face of a woman peered back at me, eyes focused and unblinking. I couldn’t tell if she was old or young. Only that her clothing was from long since past, likely the eighteen hundreds. Her hair was pulled into a bun at the back of her head with tendrils flowing out from around it.

The hand on my arm tightened and the mouth of the ghost opened.

I heard a word not spoken aloud.

Vampire.

“Oh, for duck’s sake, are you serious?” I whispered, and I most certainly did not use the autocorrect of duck.

The ghost gave a slow nod and then disappeared. The elevator lights flicked on and the elevator began to slide downward to the lobby. I hit the second-floor button, running on instinct.

“What are you doing?” Feish whispered. I looked at her to see her shaking and rubbing her arms. I put a hand out to her and she took it. “It got very cold. Was it a ghost? I couldn’t see what you were talking to.”

“Yeah,” I responded, although I hadn’t noticed the cold as much as Feish obviously did. “We’re getting out on the second floor. We’ll find a way out from there.”

The elevator stopped a second later on said floor. The doors opened and I peeked out, checking both directions. If the ghost woman was right and there was a vampire somewhere around here, I would do my best to avoid the fanged entity. That was not a critter I wanted to interact with, thank you very much.

I kept a hand on Feish and her webbed fingers tightened over mine, trembling slightly. “I think I’d like to not be with you the next time you ghost hunt,” she said.

I slowed as we approached the stairwell that would lead down to the lobby. The light above flickered and went out, and the ghost woman from the elevator made a reappearance and shook her head. She pointed to the door to her left and I went straight for it.

“You see her that time?” I whispered.

“Yes. You think it’s a good idea to trust a ghost?” Feish asked. “Especially when the ghost is here in this place?”

“I’m less afraid of a ghost than I am of what she says is in the hotel.” I tugged Feish along with me. Not that she was slowing me down, but a growing sense of urgency pushed me onward. Like we had to get out of the hallway before something bad showed up.

I put a hand on the door to the room, fully expecting it to be locked. The knob was ice cold, but otherwise, it twisted easily in my hand. I stepped into the dark room beyond it, Feish behind me.

The door clicked shut, and I found myself staring into a room full of ghosts.

And when I say full, I mean ducking full.