can get tea, soda, or coffee from the kitchen.”
I lifted my eyebrows. I’d assumed that Beau would have some sort of domestic help, considering the size of the house and his need for a food source. Even Maven, who was the least pretentious vampire I’d ever met, had plenty of human employees, and other vampires were constantly coming in and out of the coffee shop.
Beau picked up on my surprise and gave me a rueful smile. “The daytime staff, who take care of Odessa’s needs, have gone home for the night. And I’m afraid a number of my compatriots declined to be present this evening.”
That was an awfully fancy way to say, “They didn’t want to meet you.” I thought of Warton’s mirrored sunglasses. “They’re afraid of me,” I stated.
“Yes.” His face gave away nothing.
I took a second to absorb that and then decided it wasn’t really important to my purpose here. “I don’t need anything to drink, thank you,” I said, shifting a little in my chair. “Please, go back to your concern about the missing remnants.”
I hadn’t meant to sound dismissive, but Beau went still for a moment, his polite smile fading away. “They aren’t remnants,” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. “These men were my friends, my brothers. Many of them served in my brigade, or even my regiment.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, though I automatically flexed my wrist, just enough to feel the shredder stake I’d secured to my forearm. “To me, each ghost is a leftover piece of a human soul. By laying the ghost, I send that piece to be with the rest on the other side.”
Beau gave a slight headshake. “The ghosts of battle are not like your usual scattered pieces of psyche. I thought you understood that.”
“Maybe you could explain it to me.”
I did my best to sound diplomatic, but his eyes flashed with irritation. “Hundreds of thousands of soldiers died during the war,” he answered tightly. “Aside from the human tragedy, it created a logistical nightmare. Here in Atlanta, for example, most of the fighting took place during the summer. After each battle, the bodies were usually buried where they fell, in shallow mass graves.”
I nodded, though I had never really considered this problem. During my war, soldiers’ remains had been sent home.
“It was weeks or even years before anyone could be bothered to reinter the bodies,” Beau went on, “and nearly all were unidentifiable by then.” He hesitated for a moment as if searching for the right words. “They were not put to rest, not in a proper sense. As a result, the spirits wandered.”
He looked at me expectantly, like he’d finished leading me to an easy conclusion. But the remnants I was used to were tethered to the place they had died—or, in one case, to the person who had killed them.
Then again, if I was certain of anything, it was that I still had a lot to learn about ghosts. “Are they still wandering?” I asked Beau.
“No.” He looked impatient again. “Over time, the Unsettled drifted toward one another, pulling together like gravity. As years passed, many of those small groups were drawn to the relics of their former lives: bodies, of course, but also weapons, uniforms, supplies—the objects that were closest to them.”
Relics? I tried to keep the confusion off my face. “You say that like it’s a good thing. Like having them around is beneficial.”
“Of course it’s beneficial!” he snapped. “They are a testament, Miss Luther. An uncomfortable reminder of the hubris and cruelty of men, and the terrible cost we paid in blood.”
“A reminder to who?” I said as calmly as I could manage. “You and me, and a handful of humans with enough witchblood to pick up EVP?”
“You don’t . . .” He shook his head. “I thought you were supposed to be the most powerful boundary witch alive,” he said with disgust. “How can you know so little about ghosts?”
I just shrugged. Pointing out my lack of knowledge about boundary magic wasn’t going to offend me. It was too fair. “I was adopted,” I replied.
His face went slack. “I see,” Beau said slowly. He leaned back and smoothed his unwrinkled shirt, giving us both a moment to regroup. “I apologize for my quick temper, Miss . . . Lex.”
“No apology necessary.” But his sudden changes in temperament were disconcerting, and I felt like I was starting to get the whole “Mad Cavalier” nickname. He was emotional, which in itself was odd for a