Phantom Page 0,89

or pedestrians along the way. Alaric and Meredith started to inch Matt careful y out of the car, looping his arms around their necks and slowly shifting him forward into a half-standing position. But Stefan simply grabbed Matt away from them and threw him over his shoulder.

"Let's go," he said, and stalked off toward the boardinghouse, easily balancing Matt's unconscious body with one hand, not looking back.

"He's become kind of a strange guy," Alaric commented, watching Stefan alertly. The sunshine caught the stubble on Alaric's unshaven chin and it glinted with a touch of gold. He turned toward Meredith and gave her a rueful, disarming grin. "Once more into the breach..." he said. Meredith took his hand, warm and solid in her own.

"Come on," she said.

Once they were in the boardinghouse, Stefan clomped straight upstairs to deposit Matt with the other bodies - the other sleepers, Meredith reminded herself fiercely. Meredith and Alaric, hand in hand, turned toward the kitchen. As she pushed the door open, Meredith heard Mrs. Flowers's voice.

"Very useful indeed, my dear," she was saying, a warm note of approval in her voice. "You've done very wel . I'm so grateful."

Meredith gaped. At the kitchen table with Mrs. Flowers, cool and calm and pretty in a blue linen dress, sat Dr. Celia Conner, sipping tea.

"Hel o, Alaric. Hel o, Meredith," said Celia. Her dark eyes bored cool y into Meredith's. "You'l never believe what I've found."

"What?" said Alaric eagerly, letting go of Meredith's hand. Her heart sank.

Celia reached into a tote bag sitting by her chair and pul ed out a thick book bound in ragged brown leather. She smiled triumphantly and announced, "It's a book on phantoms. Dr. Beltram ended up sending me to Dalcrest Col ege, which actual y has a very comprehensive col ection of texts on the paranormal."

"I suggest we adjourn to the den," Mrs. Flowers said,

"where we can be more comfortable, and examine its contents together."

They moved to the den, but Stefan, when he joined them, did not seem any more comfortable.

"Different types of phantoms," he said, taking the book from Celia and flipping rapidly through the pages. "The history of phantoms in our dimension. Where is the banishment ritual? Why doesn't this thing have an index?"

Celia shrugged. "It's very old and rare," she said. "It was difficult to find, and it's the only book on the subject we're likely to be able to get our hands on, maybe the only one that exists, so we'l have to excuse things like that. These older texts, the authors wanted you to read straight through and real y learn about their subject, to understand what they wanted to tel you, not just to find the page you needed right away. You might try looking near the end, though."

Alaric was watching Stefan whip through the pages with an expression of pain. "It's a rare book, Stefan," he said.

"Please be more careful with it. Would you like me to look?

I'm used to finding what I need in these kinds of books."

Stefan snarled, literal y snarled at him, and Meredith felt the hairs along the back of her neck rise. "I'l do it myself, teacher. I'm in a hurry."

He squinted down at the text. "Why does it have to be in such ornate print?" he complained. "Don't tel me it's because it's old. I'm older than it is, and I can barely read it. Huh. 'Phantoms who are feeding like vampires on one choice sensibility, whether it be guilt, or despair, or grudge; or lust for victuals, the demon rum, or fal en women. The stronger be the sensibility, the worse be the outcome of the phantom created.' I think we could have figured that out ourselves."

Mrs. Flowers was standing slightly removed from the rest of the group, eyes fixed on empty air, muttering seemingly to herself as she communed with her mother.

"I know," she said. "I'l tel them." Her eyes focused on the others as they stood around Stefan, peering over his shoulders. "Mama says that time is getting short," she warned.

Stefan leaped to his feet and exploded. "I know it's getting short," he roared, getting right up into Mrs. Flowers's surprised face. "Can't your mother tel us something useful for once?"

Mrs. Flowers staggered away from him, reaching out to steady herself on the back of a chair. Her face was white, and suddenly she looked older and more frail than ever before.

Stefan's eyes widened, their color darkening to a stormy sea green, and he held