Zen and the Art of Vampires - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,37

do? I'm Pia, and yes, I'm the Zorya." I held up my hand. The moonstone had once again converted itself into a small lantern. "But I'm afraid I'm new to the job, and don't know all the ins and outs of the whole thing yet. So you'll have to join the others while you wait for me to figure out what's what."

"Others?" he asked.

"Three other ghosts. They're back in town. I don't suppose you have a magical way of transporting us there?"

He pursed his lips and eyed me curiously.

"No? I didn't think so. Well, I guess we'd better go see if there's a bus or something. You can come with me."

"And the others?" Ulfur asked, falling into step with me as I started to pick my way down the rocky hillside to the fishing village below.

"I told you - they're back in town. I think. I didn't actually see them when I left them, but that could be because Anniki had the stone."

"No, I meant the others here." He waved toward the shore.

I cautiously moved over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Along the craggy shoreline, a group of about twelve ghosts roamed aimlessly. They looked up as I stood staring down in increasing despair. More ghosts. Just what I needed to complicate things.

"This is the reaper," Ulfur bellowed down to them.

They waved.

I lifted a wan hand and waved back.

"You're all ghosts?" I asked Ulfur.

He nodded and patted his horse's head. "Landslide. Wiped out half the village. I had been in college in Reykjavik but came home for my father's birthday."

"Ouch. You speak English really well," I said, curious about that fact.

Ulfur smiled. "There is not much to do with our time but watch and listen to people. A company runs tours from here to local fjords, so we get lots of tourists. It provides us all with an excellent means of learning other languages. English was the first we learned, and now that the Japanese tours have started, we're hoping to learn that language next."

"I suppose it would provide for entertainment." I thought for a moment. "Maybe you'd all better stay here until I can figure out how to get you to heaven. Er... Ostri. Whichever."

"I don't know that we're safe staying here," he said, his face becoming serious. "An Ilargi has been seen."

"One of those bad-reaper, soul-eater guys?" A little shiver zipped down my back. "They don't sound good at all. Well, I guess you'll all have to come with me."

He nodded and bellowed out orders to the folks below.

I looked out at the sea, bluey grey and wind tossed, and wondered what on earth I was going to do now. "Could my life get any stranger?"

The sound of the wind and the mournful cry of gulls wheeling overhead were the only answer to my question. I took one last look at the sea, then gestured to the waiting ghosts below and pointed to the village. A faint hurrahing cry met my ears as I jammed my hands in my pockets and started down the path into the village, Ulfur and his horse on my heels.

What on earth had I gotten myself into? And more importantly, how was I going to get out of it?

It took the better part of the day to get back to Dalkafjordhur. I didn't want to encounter the police, so I took the only bus that ran from the fishing village, praying the police wouldn't stop people going into town. There was a bit of a tussle when the driver found out I didn't have the fare, but I succeeded in returning to Dalkafjordhur by dint of clinging with desperate stubbornness to the railing on the back of one of the seats. Since none of the five passengers on the bus spoke English - or wanted to get involved - I don't quite know what threats the driver was using, but in the end he gave up trying to root me out, and let me ride without further harassment.

Ulfur, his horse, and the twelve other ghosts didn't raise a single complaint, but that's only because no one but me saw them. The ghosts were all polite, however, men, women, and children dressed in clothing from a hundred and fifty years before, all of them pathetically grateful I was taking them under my wing.

"I can't guarantee anything, but I suppose there's safety in numbers," I told them after the bus driver, giving up on me, drove us up the track to