something out and jabbed it at the woman as she passed by— but no, she wasn't jabbing the woman, she was jabbing the ghost that was following close at her heels, or should I say wheels. The bespectacled demon looked at Billy with only a second to spare. Horror passed over his face as he began to swirl away. As if nothing had happened, she replaced the ten-inch long stick into her boot and took a long sip of her beer.
When I glanced up the sidewalk, wanting a glimpse of the woman, sans wheelchair, she was nowhere in sight. I wondered if her friends and family would compliment her on her new hairdo when they saw her.
Still wanting to know more about the Watchers and Vokkel, but now curious about something altogether new, I asked while pointing toward her shiny black boot, “So, what do you use?” She had put it away too fast for me to get a good look, but it most certainly wasn't a trusty number two pencil.
She reached down again, pulled it out, and placed it on the table. It was a hand carved chopstick, probably ivory from the looks of it. Justine and Billy had commented about Grandma Billy poking demons with chopsticks. “Was that your grandmother's?” She nodded in reply and put it back in her boot.
“You mentioned before, when you killed that lady…the bodyguard…” She flinched at my terminology, but what else would you call it, “accidental homicide”? I didn't feel the need to sugar coat anything with her, so I ignored her reaction. “You said it was like a sizzle went through you. You ever feel that before?” I hadn't mentioned my earlier experiences that prompted the need for my favorite yellow companion, and I wanted to know if she'd felt that before too.
She picked up her beer and took another drink, looking at me over the bottle as she did. “Of course, why else would I carry a chopstick in my boot?”
“So you expected it to happen when you touched the bodyguard? You knew it would hurt her?” The last question came out in an accusatory tone and I immediately regretted it.
“I didn't know it would do
that
!” She drained her beer and stood up abruptly. I had a feeling I'd gone too far, and I was right. Before I could even get the money out of my pocket to pay the tab, she had walked briskly down the street and was rounding the corner. By the time I made it to the corner, she was gone. I walked home, feeling guilty about how I'd phrased the question, but not guilty about asking it. I needed to know if Billy was dangerous, and more importantly, I needed to know if Justine was at risk.
There was also another nagging “need-to-know,” and that was this business about communicating with the ghosts. Since Billy admitted that she'd done it on at least one occasion, did that mean she could do it all the time? Did that also mean she was one of these more powerful ghost killers that everyone seemed to be after?
Chapter 18
The walk home was uphill and the day was warm, and I was sweating pretty heavily by the time I made it to my building. I collected my mail and took the elevator up to my apartment. After a tall glass of water and a clean t-shirt, I went next door to apologize to Billy. I couldn't afford to alienate her at that point—I still had a lot of questions.
Anne was the only one home and she said she hadn't seen Billy since eleven-thirty, which would have been around the time she pounded on my door. When I asked about Justine, I was told she was out as well, and not expected to return until later that evening. I asked her to have either or both call when they were able.
With nothing better to do, I went back to my apartment and flipped on the TV. I wasn't in the mood to go out hunting for ghosts, and I was even more tired than I had been before Billy so rudely interrupted my earlier slumber. The next thing I knew, there was a familiar pounding on my door, a slight ache in my neck from falling asleep in an upright position on the couch again, and the daylight had all but drained from
When I glanced up the sidewalk, wanting a glimpse of the woman, sans wheelchair, she was nowhere in sight. I wondered if her friends and family would compliment her on her new hairdo when they saw her.
Still wanting to know more about the Watchers and Vokkel, but now curious about something altogether new, I asked while pointing toward her shiny black boot, “So, what do you use?” She had put it away too fast for me to get a good look, but it most certainly wasn't a trusty number two pencil.
She reached down again, pulled it out, and placed it on the table. It was a hand carved chopstick, probably ivory from the looks of it. Justine and Billy had commented about Grandma Billy poking demons with chopsticks. “Was that your grandmother's?” She nodded in reply and put it back in her boot.
“You mentioned before, when you killed that lady…the bodyguard…” She flinched at my terminology, but what else would you call it, “accidental homicide”? I didn't feel the need to sugar coat anything with her, so I ignored her reaction. “You said it was like a sizzle went through you. You ever feel that before?” I hadn't mentioned my earlier experiences that prompted the need for my favorite yellow companion, and I wanted to know if she'd felt that before too.
She picked up her beer and took another drink, looking at me over the bottle as she did. “Of course, why else would I carry a chopstick in my boot?”
“So you expected it to happen when you touched the bodyguard? You knew it would hurt her?” The last question came out in an accusatory tone and I immediately regretted it.
“I didn't know it would do
that
!” She drained her beer and stood up abruptly. I had a feeling I'd gone too far, and I was right. Before I could even get the money out of my pocket to pay the tab, she had walked briskly down the street and was rounding the corner. By the time I made it to the corner, she was gone. I walked home, feeling guilty about how I'd phrased the question, but not guilty about asking it. I needed to know if Billy was dangerous, and more importantly, I needed to know if Justine was at risk.
There was also another nagging “need-to-know,” and that was this business about communicating with the ghosts. Since Billy admitted that she'd done it on at least one occasion, did that mean she could do it all the time? Did that also mean she was one of these more powerful ghost killers that everyone seemed to be after?
Chapter 18
The walk home was uphill and the day was warm, and I was sweating pretty heavily by the time I made it to my building. I collected my mail and took the elevator up to my apartment. After a tall glass of water and a clean t-shirt, I went next door to apologize to Billy. I couldn't afford to alienate her at that point—I still had a lot of questions.
Anne was the only one home and she said she hadn't seen Billy since eleven-thirty, which would have been around the time she pounded on my door. When I asked about Justine, I was told she was out as well, and not expected to return until later that evening. I asked her to have either or both call when they were able.
With nothing better to do, I went back to my apartment and flipped on the TV. I wasn't in the mood to go out hunting for ghosts, and I was even more tired than I had been before Billy so rudely interrupted my earlier slumber. The next thing I knew, there was a familiar pounding on my door, a slight ache in my neck from falling asleep in an upright position on the couch again, and the daylight had all but drained from
Similar Books
