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

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СКАЧАТЬ wanna check the building again?” Terrible asked as he held open the tear in the fence for her.

      “I guess. Don’t think we missed anything the other night, though.” Chess glanced over at the right perimeter of the field. “Hold on, what’s that?”

      Terrible followed her gaze, but said nothing.

      She wasn’t sure how she’d managed to catch it, hidden as it was by the tall grass as it was, but as she got closer she saw she wasn’t mistaken.

      The stones formed a rough, loose rectangle, about fifty feet long and thirty wide. Large sections had disappeared entirely, so that only someone carefully looking would have known they formed a shape at all and weren’t just piles of rocks. Without the specific angle of the sun she doubted she would have noticed it at all.

      “Another building,” she said. “I wonder what it was.”

      “Supplies, could be. Even sleeping quarters. Barracks.”

      She glanced up at him. “Barracks?”

      “Aye, you know. No hotels round here. Pi lots they come in, they ain’t leaving till morning, needs to sleep.”

      She stood back up and looked at him. His impassive face was turned away, studying the buildings just outside the fence. Black sunglasses hid his eyes.

      “That’s a good idea, Terrible. You’re probably right.”

      Again, no reaction. Chess paced along the remains of the walls, moving stones that looked light or loose enough for her to shift. Anywhere in this rubble would be an ideal place to hide the sort of equipment hoaxers would need, and with Terrible’s attention elsewhere she could cover it back up—if she needed to, if it existed and the ghosts here weren’t real.

      If he caught her … She didn’t even want to think about that. She hadn’t heard from Lex since he’d dropped her off, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was so tempting to pretend she’d imagined the whole thing. Too bad she hadn’t, and she knew it.

      The stones yielded nothing, though, so she left a tiny motion-sensor video camera in the pile closest to the runway and they headed back toward the main terminal building. Chess glanced back, wondering what else hid in the jungle of stiff brownish grass, what nestled in the ground just outside the field. They’d have to search there, too.

      Houses crouched close to the fence, as though they’d been shoved out of the way when it was put up. Duplexes, mostly. Over one door smears of blood remained from the Festival; the residents hadn’t bothered to wipe it off when it was no longer needed. Probably figured the rain would get it eventually, and they were probably right. November was usually much rainier than it had been the last week or two.

      Someone must have had a window open; the soft strains of a Willie Nelson song drifted toward them like a whisper.

      Here and there pitted slides and rusty tricycles dotted the badly tended lawns. Chess could practically feel the cracked plastic of the aged toys beneath her. How many children in these homes were living lives like hers had been, right that moment? Being used as a source of income, and none of that money shared with them?

      The buildings sat at odd angles to one another, adding to the air of something seedy and off about the street. One butted right up against the fence, with barely any yard. The next stood a good thirty feet off. “Do you know why the houses are crooked like that?”

      Terrible shook his head. “Always been that way, my guess. It matter?”

      “Just curious.”

      Sunlight shafted into the wreckage of the terminal building. “I guess we can try hunting through this mess again.” She scanned the ceiling. It was clean, or rather, nothing but cobwebs lurked in the shadows.

      They rustled through the garbage again, neither of them wanting to use their hands. This was a waste of time, and she knew it. Something very well could have been planted at Chester, but it wasn’t in here.

      “That dude last night, he yours?”

      “Huh?”

      “Mr. Clean you left the show with.”

      “Doyle? No. Just a guy I work with. How was the show, anyway?”

      Terrible grinned. “Dusters always put on a good one.”

      “I wish I’d stayed.”

      He lifted his chin in a half-nod. “Missed out, you did.”

      She rounded the remains of the desk and crouched down. A few drawers remained intact, near the top. Chess steeled herself to open them. Mice liked to nest in places like this, mice and rats and spiders, none of which she enjoyed encountering.

      “Amy seems nice,” she lied, looking for something to say as she slid open the top drawer.

      “She aright.”

      “Been seeing her long?”

      He shrugged.

      The drawer was empty. Chess opened the others, finding nothing but dust and dead bugs. Their dry carcasses reminded her horribly of the worms in her hand, and she shut the drawers harder than she’d planned. The last one cracked under the strain and her fist almost went through it.

      “Okay, well, I don’t see anything in here, so let’s look outside, okay?”

      “Your show.”

      The air outside seemed sweet after the dry rot of the terminal. Her nose itched as she handed him another little camera and told him how to attach it to the outside of the building, just under the roof. He didn’t need a ladder to do it.

      A few feet from the spot where he’d broken the wall to pull her out the other night was an old well and pump. Shit. “Um … you didn’t happen to bring any rope, did you?”

      “How much?”

      “Enough to lower me down that well so I can see if there’s anything down there.”

      “Like electrics and all?”

      She nodded.

      “Damn, Chess, you really wanna go down there?”

      “Afraid you won’t be strong enough to keep me from falling?”

      His teeth showed in a grin. “Shit. You must joke.”

      “Of course I’m joking. Do you have rope or not?”

      “Could be I do. Wait here.”

      He headed off back toward his car, while Chess poked around in the grass some more, always ready for that awful coldness to start creeping up her legs again. At night Chester was like a black hole in the city, devoid of life. Who’s to say more rituals hadn’t taken place out here? Anywhere you found empty spaces you found illegal witchcraft. People did their legitimate rituals at home—money charms, luck spells, easy things that didn’t require power or talent. And the Church encouraged it, because when people saw the results of their insignificant spells, their tiny manipulations СКАЧАТЬ