lips formed a half smile. “Getting the rules down, so we can plan.”
“I sure hope so.”
“We’ll figure the whole thing out,” he said. His voice was steady, but his jaw flexed
as if he had doubts, too. “There, straight ahead, see the cliffs that all the postcards
show? We’re coming up on the business district, historic Creede.”
He drove slowly, and Clare stared; more, she extended all her senses and felt . . .
nothing. Rolling down the window, she let in the snow-fresh air. It had melted away
and left wet streets. She stuck her head nearly out the window.
“What,” asked Zach.
She wet her lips. “Nothing. I
feel
nothing. No ghosts at all. No lingering shadows or shades of emotions from ghosts
that have left, no ghosts out of my time period . . .”
Zach’s hands flexed on the wheel. “That’s not good.”
“No.”
Uh-oh,
said Enzo, his head resting on Clare’s right shoulder.
SIX
ENZO CONTINUED, THERE
ARE no ghosts. It’s eaten ALL OF THEM
! He howled, a long and lonely, despairing howl that raised the hair on the back of
her neck. Zach’s shoulders hunched.
I AM THE OOOOONLY GHOST IN TOWN!
“Stop it,” Zach snapped. “You don’t want to attract its attention.”
Enzo leapt through the seat and Clare—no mistaking when a ghost passed through her—and
huddled in the passenger seat well, draped all over Clare’s feet and lower legs and
her tote bag. Her feet chilled and even the outside air seemed warmer. She rolled
the window up and braced herself to pet her ghost dog.
When she touched a ghost, the chill was worse—at least double, maybe even quadruple—she
didn’t know the multiplier. Cold, cold, cold. When she’d helped previous ghosts on
she’d had to initiate contact, merge with them, and it had been a race to send them
on before the cold froze her heart.
She leaned forward and petted Enzo’s head. He nuzzled her palm and licked her hand.
“I only need you to answer some questions, then you can return to Denver before dark,
if you like.”
I am your companion. I will stay with you.
“We’ll protect you,” Zach said.
We will protect each other,
Enzo replied staunchly.
With a last pat on her phantom Lab’s head, Clare withdrew her numbed fingers and turned
to Zach. “You hear Enzo well, then?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t seem to want to talk about that, either, so Clare let it lie. She met her
dog’s big eyes. “We’ll protect each other,” she agreed.
His tail stirred chill air in the car.
Yes, you will kill the big, bad ghost with the big knife!
Zach’s gaze cut to her. “Knife?”
She cleared her voice. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about that.”
“Big knife.” Now he smiled.
“I’m also hoping that you’ll help me with defensive moves or something.”
His smile stopped and his expression turned grim. “A knife. For killing evil ghosts,
right, Enzo?”
Yesss.
A hiss that went outside the range of her mental hearing and hurt her head.
“Where’d this knife come from?” Zach asked.
“I didn’t know I had it,” Clare said. “It was in a secret compartment in Great-Aunt
Sandra’s work chest. The Other showed me how to find it. I haven’t looked at it yet.”
It is a very powerful weapon,
Enzo assured.
“The Other, huh. He say anything else?”
In a small voice, Clare replied, “Only that there was a price to pay to use it.”
Zach growled, “Of course there is.” She heard a definite inhale and exhale from him,
then he continued matter-of-factly, “There’s always a price to be paid for killing.”
Just that told her that he’d killed, probably in the line of duty when he was a peace
officer. “I’m sure.”
“The confluence was where Caden said the murder-suicide was. Huh.”
“What?”
“Most murder-suicides are usually in the home. Personal. Private. Intimate.”
“Oh.”
“Sharp kid, he’s given us solid background to work with.”
“Yes, that’s a
“I sure hope so.”
“We’ll figure the whole thing out,” he said. His voice was steady, but his jaw flexed
as if he had doubts, too. “There, straight ahead, see the cliffs that all the postcards
show? We’re coming up on the business district, historic Creede.”
He drove slowly, and Clare stared; more, she extended all her senses and felt . . .
nothing. Rolling down the window, she let in the snow-fresh air. It had melted away
and left wet streets. She stuck her head nearly out the window.
“What,” asked Zach.
She wet her lips. “Nothing. I
feel
nothing. No ghosts at all. No lingering shadows or shades of emotions from ghosts
that have left, no ghosts out of my time period . . .”
Zach’s hands flexed on the wheel. “That’s not good.”
“No.”
Uh-oh,
said Enzo, his head resting on Clare’s right shoulder.
SIX
ENZO CONTINUED, THERE
ARE no ghosts. It’s eaten ALL OF THEM
! He howled, a long and lonely, despairing howl that raised the hair on the back of
her neck. Zach’s shoulders hunched.
I AM THE OOOOONLY GHOST IN TOWN!
“Stop it,” Zach snapped. “You don’t want to attract its attention.”
Enzo leapt through the seat and Clare—no mistaking when a ghost passed through her—and
huddled in the passenger seat well, draped all over Clare’s feet and lower legs and
her tote bag. Her feet chilled and even the outside air seemed warmer. She rolled
the window up and braced herself to pet her ghost dog.
When she touched a ghost, the chill was worse—at least double, maybe even quadruple—she
didn’t know the multiplier. Cold, cold, cold. When she’d helped previous ghosts on
she’d had to initiate contact, merge with them, and it had been a race to send them
on before the cold froze her heart.
She leaned forward and petted Enzo’s head. He nuzzled her palm and licked her hand.
“I only need you to answer some questions, then you can return to Denver before dark,
if you like.”
I am your companion. I will stay with you.
“We’ll protect you,” Zach said.
We will protect each other,
Enzo replied staunchly.
With a last pat on her phantom Lab’s head, Clare withdrew her numbed fingers and turned
to Zach. “You hear Enzo well, then?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t seem to want to talk about that, either, so Clare let it lie. She met her
dog’s big eyes. “We’ll protect each other,” she agreed.
His tail stirred chill air in the car.
Yes, you will kill the big, bad ghost with the big knife!
Zach’s gaze cut to her. “Knife?”
She cleared her voice. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about that.”
“Big knife.” Now he smiled.
“I’m also hoping that you’ll help me with defensive moves or something.”
His smile stopped and his expression turned grim. “A knife. For killing evil ghosts,
right, Enzo?”
Yesss.
A hiss that went outside the range of her mental hearing and hurt her head.
“Where’d this knife come from?” Zach asked.
“I didn’t know I had it,” Clare said. “It was in a secret compartment in Great-Aunt
Sandra’s work chest. The Other showed me how to find it. I haven’t looked at it yet.”
It is a very powerful weapon,
Enzo assured.
“The Other, huh. He say anything else?”
In a small voice, Clare replied, “Only that there was a price to pay to use it.”
Zach growled, “Of course there is.” She heard a definite inhale and exhale from him,
then he continued matter-of-factly, “There’s always a price to be paid for killing.”
Just that told her that he’d killed, probably in the line of duty when he was a peace
officer. “I’m sure.”
“The confluence was where Caden said the murder-suicide was. Huh.”
“What?”
“Most murder-suicides are usually in the home. Personal. Private. Intimate.”
“Oh.”
“Sharp kid, he’s given us solid background to work with.”
“Yes, that’s a
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