house?”
She shrugged. “It’s possible. The Riordan family has some special problems along those lines. We’ve got some ghosts that aren’t exactly fond of us.”
“Some ghosts? We’ve got enemy ghosts?” He took another swallow of beer. He’d given up trying to be even slightly skeptical about this. He was just trying to hang on to his sanity until Rosie finished.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “This gets complicated, but the short explanation is most ghosts don’t stick around too long. People die, the spirits linger for a little while, and then everything is over.”
“But?”
“But some spirits get stuck here or something. Anyway, some ghosts stay around for a long time—sometimes a very long time. So long some of them forget they were ever human—they lose contact with what made them people once upon a time. Those are the Old Ones. The demons.”
He blinked. “Demons? You mean like pitchforks and horns?”
She shook her head. “No, not like that. They’re just very old ghosts, not something from hell. Although they’ve got some fairly hellish ideas sometimes. They exploit humans when they can. And some of them start feeding on the living.”
The hairs on the back of his neck did a little dance. “You’re talking zombies?”
She grimaced. “No, these are spirits, not reanimated bodies. And they don’t actually eat people—not literally, anyway. They usually take their souls, their essence. Doing that increases their own power.”
“Usually?”
She avoided his gaze again. “Danny’s ghost actually consumed people along with their souls. But I understand that’s relatively rare.”
“Good to know.” He rubbed his eyes, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been before.
His sister pushed herself to her feet. “Okay, that’s enough for one night. I’m sorry you had all of this thrown at you at once. We can sort it out over the next few days, but for now you’re going to sleep.” She took hold of his arm, pulling him gently upright. “C’mon, bro, let me show you to your room.”
He followed her, managing not to stumble over his own feet. With any luck, he’d stay vertical until he found a bed.
Rosie opened a door at the top of the stairs, switching on the light. “You can have this one. The bed’s all made up. Bathroom’s next door. Grab whatever you need—I think I can dig up a disposable razor for you from Evan’s stuff.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning a hand on the doorjamb, then turned back to look at her. “Thanks, Rosie. For everything. I think knowing all of this will help once I get the facts sorted out.”
She nodded slowly. “It probably will. Don’t push it, though. Give yourself time to absorb it all. Then we’ll talk again.”
He blew out a breath. “Right.” He headed into the room, fully intending to sleep for at least twelve hours straight. If his midnight lover came by, she’d be disappointed. He’d never felt less like having sex in his life.
For a moment, Emma Shea’s face swam into his thoughts, but he resolutely pushed her away. With all the other complications that had just entered his life, the last thing he needed was somebody else to worry about.
Even if that somebody else did have eyes the color of a spring sky and hair like flaming embers.
He pulled off his shoes and stretched out across the bed, falling asleep in under five minutes.
Chapter 7
Emma drove by what she’d begun to think of as the Hampton house before she stopped to pick up coffee. She didn’t see Ray’s truck in the driveway. Maybe he really had found another place to sleep last night.
Which was good, since he’d been totally worn out the last time she’d seen him. She hoped he’d gotten a good night’s sleep—that he was still sleeping in fact. Although she couldn’t help wondering with whom.
The question was absolutely none of her business. Ray Ramos’s love life was not her concern and she needed to stay out of it. Even thinking about it was
She shrugged. “It’s possible. The Riordan family has some special problems along those lines. We’ve got some ghosts that aren’t exactly fond of us.”
“Some ghosts? We’ve got enemy ghosts?” He took another swallow of beer. He’d given up trying to be even slightly skeptical about this. He was just trying to hang on to his sanity until Rosie finished.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “This gets complicated, but the short explanation is most ghosts don’t stick around too long. People die, the spirits linger for a little while, and then everything is over.”
“But?”
“But some spirits get stuck here or something. Anyway, some ghosts stay around for a long time—sometimes a very long time. So long some of them forget they were ever human—they lose contact with what made them people once upon a time. Those are the Old Ones. The demons.”
He blinked. “Demons? You mean like pitchforks and horns?”
She shook her head. “No, not like that. They’re just very old ghosts, not something from hell. Although they’ve got some fairly hellish ideas sometimes. They exploit humans when they can. And some of them start feeding on the living.”
The hairs on the back of his neck did a little dance. “You’re talking zombies?”
She grimaced. “No, these are spirits, not reanimated bodies. And they don’t actually eat people—not literally, anyway. They usually take their souls, their essence. Doing that increases their own power.”
“Usually?”
She avoided his gaze again. “Danny’s ghost actually consumed people along with their souls. But I understand that’s relatively rare.”
“Good to know.” He rubbed his eyes, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been before.
His sister pushed herself to her feet. “Okay, that’s enough for one night. I’m sorry you had all of this thrown at you at once. We can sort it out over the next few days, but for now you’re going to sleep.” She took hold of his arm, pulling him gently upright. “C’mon, bro, let me show you to your room.”
He followed her, managing not to stumble over his own feet. With any luck, he’d stay vertical until he found a bed.
Rosie opened a door at the top of the stairs, switching on the light. “You can have this one. The bed’s all made up. Bathroom’s next door. Grab whatever you need—I think I can dig up a disposable razor for you from Evan’s stuff.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning a hand on the doorjamb, then turned back to look at her. “Thanks, Rosie. For everything. I think knowing all of this will help once I get the facts sorted out.”
She nodded slowly. “It probably will. Don’t push it, though. Give yourself time to absorb it all. Then we’ll talk again.”
He blew out a breath. “Right.” He headed into the room, fully intending to sleep for at least twelve hours straight. If his midnight lover came by, she’d be disappointed. He’d never felt less like having sex in his life.
For a moment, Emma Shea’s face swam into his thoughts, but he resolutely pushed her away. With all the other complications that had just entered his life, the last thing he needed was somebody else to worry about.
Even if that somebody else did have eyes the color of a spring sky and hair like flaming embers.
He pulled off his shoes and stretched out across the bed, falling asleep in under five minutes.
Chapter 7
Emma drove by what she’d begun to think of as the Hampton house before she stopped to pick up coffee. She didn’t see Ray’s truck in the driveway. Maybe he really had found another place to sleep last night.
Which was good, since he’d been totally worn out the last time she’d seen him. She hoped he’d gotten a good night’s sleep—that he was still sleeping in fact. Although she couldn’t help wondering with whom.
The question was absolutely none of her business. Ray Ramos’s love life was not her concern and she needed to stay out of it. Even thinking about it was
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