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

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СКАЧАТЬ A hat first, perched jauntily on top of the head. Then features, indistinct but all present and accounted for, and finally shoulders, a torso, and legs.

      The ghost wore what looked like a double-breasted jacket, but the cut was tighter than Chess had seen before and flared slightly over the hips. A tiny patch of lighter, more iridescent space sat just above the chest on the left side, and as she watched a belt formed at the waist.

      Lips parted in a grimace and the ghost started toward her, moving slowly and precisely. Another followed him, dressed similarly and with the same solemn expression. Not anger, necessarily, but … need. It—they—wanted something, and she had no doubt that that something would be her head on a plate if she didn’t act fast.

      Beside her Terrible moved. She flung her hand out toward him. “Don’t!”

      But he moved again, and Chess couldn’t spare a moment to glance at him because her fingers fumbled with the bag of graveyard dirt as she tried to gather a handful. It slipped over her skin, cool and full of power, but even as she pulled her hand out of the bag the ghosts stopped moving, stopped looking at her.

      They looked at Terrible. Their right hands raised in unison. And they disappeared.

      “What the fuck—how did you do that?”

      Terrible cleared his throat, and lowered his own hand. He’d been saluting.

      He opened his menu and shrugged, but the color on his cheeks hadn’t faded. “Just a guess,” he said again. “Thought maybe if they seen we was holding respect they’d back off.”

      “I don’t even know how you guessed.”

      “They was wearing uniforms.”

      “Was that what they were—” She paused. The ghost she and Lex had encountered in the tunnel was dressed similarly. “I didn’t know.”

      “Ain’t you guys supposed to learn that stuff?”

      “Not military. Armed forces are a special branch, they have their own Debunkers.”

      “It matter? I mean, can you Banish soldier ghosts?”

      She lit a cigarette. “Oh, I imagine I could. It’s the same thing, I just wouldn’t be allowed to try it. Once they’d identified the ghost as military the case would be taken away. Because of the POW problems during Haunted Week, they figured … well, they wanted people with special training.”

      The waitress interrupted them to take their orders—burgers and fries for both—and left them again. Outside the diner the street came to life, hookers cruising up and down in their teetery shoes and spandex, Bump’s minions hovering on corners with their pockets bulging, gangs of teenagers wandering around looking for trouble. Downside woke up around nine every night and kept going until the horizon turned pale again, even though most stores closed by eleven.

      “How long you been doing the job?”

      “Three years, almost four. Well, I started training nine years ago—they start at fifteen—and then when you turn twenty-one you’re hired. Or not. One kid from my class didn’t make it.”

      “What the training like?”

      “Um …” Was he really interested? He certainly looked interested, and it was easier to talk to him than she’d ever imagined it would be, but something still held her back. “Like regular school, I guess, but with more magic studies and lore. You know, which herbs serve which purpose, how to direct energy and control it, Banishing rituals, summoning—although we’re not supposed to do that. They do refresher courses, too, and regular energy raisings and cleansings on grounds.”

      “You ain’t live there why? I thought all you had to live in them cottages there.”

      “I didn’t want to.”

      “Just like that?”

      “Yeah, just like that.” She blew out a stream of smoke, and relented. “I … I had some problems living on grounds and applied for leave. I’m not good with living in a group situation, is all.”

      “You lose family in Haunted Week?”

      “Didn’t you?”

      “Dunno. Guessing I’d remember if I had, but … don’t recall no family.”

      “How old are you, anyway?”

      He shrugged. “Older’n you, but ain’t sure the number. I recall Haunted Week, aye, maybe a year or two before. So twenty-seven, twenty-eight? Somewhere there.”

      Chess was glad the waitress came back with their food. It gave her something else to look at. She’d never guessed he was so young, although she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though he looked old and grizzled, he was just … so big. It made her uncomfortable to know he wasn’t so far off her in age, as if he was somehow more real. She cleared her throat and picked up her burger.

      “So how’s Amy? Where’s she tonight?”

      “She right. Off doing what ever she do, guessing.”

      “You don’t know?”

      “Ain’t tied to her.”

      Ouch. She had to swallow the enormous bite she’d taken—it was delicious—before she could answer, which kind of took the edge of her reply. “I was just asking.”

      “She ain’t mine, dig. Just a dame I know.”

      “Well, sorry I assumed, okay?”

      He looked for a minute like he wanted to say something else, but started eating instead. So much for that conversation. She ate, too, shifting her gaze upward, looking around the room. She’d never been to this place before, even though it wasn’t far from her apartment. They didn’t do much of a take-out business here, and she rarely had the urge to eat by herself in public—rarely meaning never—so it wasn’t on her personal radar. She’d definitely come again, though, if the burger was an indication of their regular food and not part of a separate stock they brought out for Terrible.

      It was even clean, which was saying something. No wonder it had filled so rapidly. She didn’t recognize a lot of the faces, but some she did, people who ran stalls in the Market, a guy who lived in the building across the street from her, a shadowy face with coals instead of eyes half-covered by a black hood …

      Her hamburger fell from her hand.

      “Chess? You cool? Chess?”

      She barely heard him over the roaring in her ears. Her legs wobbled as she tried to stand, her stiff fingers fumbling for her bag even though she knew it would be no use. What ever he—it—was, it would take more than a few herbs and some dirt to send him away. She’d have to go in with Doyle and the others, take their case to the Grand Elder …

      But just as Terrible had appeased the alley ghosts earlier, so she hoped she could make him disappear, just for now, just until …

      “Chess! What you seeing?”

      She thrust herself out of the booth, smacking right into a waitress carrying СКАЧАТЬ