The Downside Ghosts Series Books 1-3: Unholy Ghosts, Unholy Magic, City of Ghosts. Stacia Kane

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      Chess scrambled out of the way as Lex fell backward. The ghost lifted the pipe again, aiming for him. He ducked. Metal rang against cement.

      “Break the pipe!” she shouted, hoping Lex would understand as the ghost turned on her.

      Lex did. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him leap up and hook the length still attached to the ceiling with his bent arm, using his leather jacket as insulation. For a moment he hung in the air, his legs spread like a professional basketball player making a slam dunk, before the brackets holding the pipe creaked and snapped and they were plunged into blackness.

      “Get out the water,” he gasped. Something scraped behind her as she braced her feet against the very edges of the floor.

      It only took a second, but it felt like forever that she stayed there, shivering and covered in filth, listening to Lex’s heavy breathing in the dark.

      Then light exploded through the tunnel as the live wires hit the sludgy mess covering the walkway.

      Like a photo negative Chess saw Lex’s tall, slim form outlined in blinding blue-white, saw the ghost contort and disappear. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could but still she saw it, still she heard the shrieking hiss as thousands of volts poured through the tunnel.

      A final explosion, somewhere in the distance, and it was over. She didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted salt on her lips.

      “You right, tulip?”

      He could have been anywhere. Right beside her, or fifteen feet away. She started to nod before she realized he couldn’t see her, either.

      “I’m fine.”

      His hand brushed her arm. “Didn’t know electricals killed the kickers.”

      “They don’t. I mean, it doesn’t work that way. It was probably an energy overload. Shorts them out, same as the lights.” It would also get her shoved into a cell for a few months if anyone from the Church ever found out about it. Spectral abuse was a pretty serious issue, ever since some descendants found out a Debunker purposely summoned a spirit wolf instead of a dog and it savaged the ghost. The descendants sued and won.

      Metal clicked against metal, and the tunnel filled with a soft yellowish glow. Lex held the lighter up near his head. “More light a few turns away. Let’s us move, aye?”

      “Is the ground safe?”

      “Safe enough. Transformer blew, I’m guessing.” He stomped his feet in the sludge. “No volts here.”

      Not quite as brave as he, Chess stepped gingerly into the center of the path. “Okay, then. Can we get out of here now?”

      He laughed softly. “What ever you say, tulip, what ever you say.”

      Half an hour under the hot water in her own bathroom was just about enough to get the stink of sewer out of her nose. Funny how the tunnel itself hadn’t smelled so bad, but that mess at the bottom … urgh. Her hand stung from the water and the gallon of disinfectant she’d soaked it in.

      The only thing the shower didn’t help was knowing what she had to do next. Terrible’s note had not been eloquent, but it had been clear. He didn’t appreciate being stood up when they were supposed to go back to Chester that afternoon, and she couldn’t blame him.

      She popped another Cept on her way out the door, preparing to be yelled at. He hadn’t said on the note where he would be, but the Dusters were playing at Chuck’s on Fiftieth, and she bet she’d find him there. The Mortons would have to wait. They wouldn’t break down her door or cause her severe physical pain if she failed to break into their home tonight without their knowledge. Terrible might do one or both of those things if she didn’t make an appearance immediately.

      Donning clean jeans, a semi sheer black top, and a pair of high-heeled boots, she tucked her knife—returned to her by Lex when he let her out of the tunnel six blocks from her house—a twenty, and her keys into her pocket and headed out.

      Two steps down the hall she turned back and grabbed a small bag of asafetida, too. It had been stupid to go out without it the night before. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

      Of course, it had been stupid to trust a word Lex said and go into the tunnel to begin with. It had been stupid to sort of agree to this. Hell, pretty much everything she’d done in the last few days had been stupid.

      Nothing she could do to change it now. Surely some way to keep two drug dealers and their various minions in the dark about her activities, while pretending to one that she couldn’t Banish Chester’s ghosts, would come to her. Probably in the car. Most of her best ideas came to her in the car.

      Her heels clicked pleasantly on the pavement as she rounded the corner of Fiftieth and Ace. The usual suspects dotted the street, shoulders hunched against the mild November chill—rockabilly punks like Terrible with their greased DA’s and bowling shirts, a few old-school kids like Lex with spiked hair and padlocks around their necks, even some lounge boys in sharkskin jackets and creepers. Most of the girls dressed like Chess. Punks were like birds. The men got to decorate more than the women, as a rule.

      The Dusters hadn’t started playing yet, so everyone was outside drinking from paper bags. Chess bummed a smoke off a retro skater kid—complete with a ragged Lance Mountain T-shirt she imagined would fall apart if he tried to wash it—and crossed her arms, scanning the crowd for Terrible. Might as well get it over with.

      He didn’t seem to be there. Most of the faces were familiar, but his wasn’t one of them. She circled the crowd, frowning. If he wasn’t there she’d have to go to Bump’s, and she’d rather see the show.

      A couple made out against the gritty stucco wall on the side of the club. Chess watched them for a second, embarrassed to do so but unable to turn away, something quiet and small twisting in her chest.

      The girl was a little thing, platinum blond, in a miniskirt and a pair of platform heels that looked like they weighed more than her entire body. Her thin legs crossed at the ankle behind the guy’s waist, while her tiny, pale hands dug into his back. Chess couldn’t see her face; it was almost entirely hidden by the guy’s hands, cupping her cheeks like he thought the bones might break. Chess didn’t think she’d ever been touched like that. A pang of pure envy ran through her.

      The girl caressed the back of his neck and lifted her hands to twine her fingers in his hair. His hips pressed forward, pinning her against the wall, and he dipped his head to kiss her throat. The light caught the prominent ridge of his brow and the crooked bump of his nose.

      It was Terrible.

      Heat rushed to her face. Yes, definitely Terrible. No wonder he’d blushed when she teased him about his sideburns. She’d never even thought of him as actually being interested in women. He seemed totally asexual to her, like instead of fucking he preferred beating people up. A silly assumption. He was a man, after all.

      But then, she herself generally preferred drugs to fucking. In an ideal world she’d take both. So why expect he might not?

      Taking a furious drag off her cigarette she turned away, intending to lose herself in the crowd until he was available for talking, but her heel caught a crack in the pavement and her slightly sore left ankle twisted. She СКАЧАТЬ