reduced to bone by the efficient rats that scurried around even now, unwary of human or paranormal presence.
He sat on the edge of the raised stone tomb, pinching his fingers along the zip bag to seal it. He closed the pocketknife. Observing the sisters revealed an exercise in efficiency and professionalism. They both had their roles, and each worked with zeal. The determination on Vika’s face was impressive. She did take cleaning personally.
“Can’t believe she hasn’t picked up my place yet,” he said, sort of as a spoken wish, but then, “Nah. That would be forward of me.” He liked his disorder as it was, because within that array he knew exactly where everything was.
That she even tolerated him being around her was immense. He’d seen the bruise on her shoulder last night while they’d made love. The pain demon had shoved her around, and he was surprised, and thankful, she didn’t have broken bones.
“You allowed it to happen,” he muttered, feeling he should be able to control the demons from within.
Must be more than half a dozen remaining. It wasn’t as if he could do a roll call, but he suspected he’d experienced all that occupied his soul. There was or had been: Carrion (whom Vika had obliterated that first accidental meeting), Menace, War, Lust, Protection (whom he wished would appear more often), Chaos, Pain, Grief, and, well, he hoped that was it.
Why hadn’t a desire or gratitude demon hitched a ride? Any man could appreciate either of those two. Although he should be thankful he’d attracted the one benevolent demon, he’d yet to notice that any of the protection sigils worked against the other demons, save to make them flinch.
Sighing, he waggled his tattooed fingers, smirking at Libby’s curiosity and Vika’s sudden discomfort when her sister had asked to examine them more closely. Vika had swooned at the use of his magical touch. He hadn’t been aware of that particular magic since he’d only recently completed the glove tattoo. Nice bonus. He suspected Vika wouldn’t mind if he practiced on her until he’d achieved mastery.
“Ready, CJ?” Vika called.
“Ready for what?”
His heart stuttered. She must have found another wandering soul. Plastic bags in hand, CJ dashed down an aisle between tombstones and rushed over to the hearse.
“Stand right there!”
He stopped abruptly at Vika’s held-up hand.
She nodded at him, as if anticipating something big. He couldn’t see the corpse light, but he noticed her eyes followed something in the air before her. Sweeping out her hand, Vika chanted an air spell.
The brightness blasted him in the chest and toppled him backward to land on the aboveground stone coffin of Jacques Letendre, Beloved Father. Arms splaying back and chest lifting as the soul traveled through him, Certainly gasped in the fetid air. Brilliance burst through his extremities and tugged at his muscles, as if attempting to peel them from his bones. He clenched his fingers, his entire body stiffening. The entrance ward on his palm burned, and then his muscles relaxed. As the soul moved through him, he cried out joyously to experience the warmth and utter gentleness. It all happened within five seconds.
Libby rushed to the tombstone and preened over his prone figure. A red curl slipped out from her Tyvek cap and dangled over her purple-dusted eyelid. “Hell. That was some kind of kinky! Did it work?”
CJ slapped a hand on his chest. “Goodbye, Menace.”
Vika leaned over him. “I got the bastard who tried to total the hearse?” She pumped a fist. “Yes!”
He pulled her down onto him and kissed her, she in her hazmat suit and white Tyvek hat, and he with his bags of grave dirt near his head. The two made out there on the coffin while Libby packed up the back of the hearse.
“Thank you. Again,” he said, tugging the white cleaning cap from her head to let the garnet waves spill over his chest. “Was that the only soul?”
“No, I’ve collected half a dozen at least. They are already attached to my soul. Can’t use them. But I felt one approaching apprehensively, so knew I could use it. Now, let me see if I can find it.”
She climbed off him and wandered about behind the tombstone, and gave a triumphant whoop.
“That’s my girl,” he said, sitting up and brushing the grave dust from his sleeves. “My Intrepid Gatherer of Corpse Lights. Were they all vampires?”
“Yes.” Libby hitched her hip onto the tombstone and sat beside CJ. She tugged out the earbuds and they dangled