Sisters Of Salt And Iron. Kady Cross

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      LARK

      I punched Woodstock in the face. The blow knocked him back.

      The second ghost I’d hit in twenty-four hours. That had to be a record, even for me.

      “I can see him,” Kevin said dumbly. “Like, really see him.”

      I kept my gaze on the ghost, fists clenched, ready. “It’s almost Halloween. Hasn’t this happened to you before?”

      “No.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him slip something on his fingers—iron rings. I’d yet to find a better weapon against ghosts. “But since you and Wren came back to town, my sensitivity to the dead has increased.”

      Made sense. Lately I’d been thinking more and more that if I was around people who were in tune to ghosts, I acted as a kind of magnifier for their abilities.

      The ghost had shaken off my punch and came back for more. He hit me in the face so hard my vision blurred. I kicked him between the legs. Dead or not, a guy’s still got his junk.

      I shook my head and delivered an uppercut to Woodstock’s jaw. “Do you know this guy?” I yelled at Kevin.

      He landed a punch on the ghost, as well. “Never seen him before in my life.”

      “Well, he knows you.” I managed to get the words out before the hippie slammed his shoulder into my gut. “I thought you guys were peaceful!” I shouted as I hit the ground. My head slammed into the paved drive. Black swarmed my vision, followed by an array of stars that spun so fast I thought I might puke.

      “You can’t run from me, little man!” the ghost shouted with a cackle. I heard Kevin’s footsteps pounding against the ground. Through blurry eyes, I saw Woodstock start to follow after him. I reached out and grabbed him by the ankle, pulling hard.

      Off balance, the ghost fell, his other foot slamming into my shoulder. I grunted and tried to roll away, but he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back. My eyes watered at the pain, but I didn’t make a sound.

      Woodstock straddled my chest. Swimming in and out of focus, he leered at me. The smell of patchouli and pot filled my nostrils. “You’re not as pretty as your sister,” he told me. “We can still have a little fun, though.”

      How did he know Wren? And was that a ghost-boner pressed against my stomach? A little tingle of fear raced down my spine. He could rape me if he overpowered me. I’d heard of people being sexually assaulted by ghosts before. Not something I ever wanted to experience.

      “Fuck you,” I growled.

      His expression turned angry. He shifted his weight to lean closer. God, the smell of him was all over me. His movement let me pull my arm out from beneath his knee. I moved fast, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing with all my strength.

      Not to brag, but I’m strong—especially against ghosts. I can’t explain it and I don’t care. It’s enough for me that I can fight the dead. I’ve been a match for most that I’ve gone up against, and Woodstock was no different. His fingers curled around my arm and hand, trying to pry my fingers loose.

      I kept squeezing. Not like I could kill him, but the iron on my finger would hurt him.

      Suddenly, I was pelted by a spray of pebbles. No, not pebbles, I realized as one hit my lip with a hard sting. It was salt. The kind you use in winter to melt snow. It hurt as it rained down on my face.

      Woodstock howled and exploded into mist, leaving me holding nothing but air. I pushed myself up onto my arm, coughing out pellets that had gotten in my mouth. When I looked up, Kevin stood above me, holding a large bag that was still half-full of the noxious salt. I felt grimy from it—itchy.

      “You couldn’t have just thrown handfuls at him?” I asked. “You had to dump the whole damn bag over his head?”

      “It wasn’t the whole bag,” Kevin retorted, scowling. “And you’re welcome.”

      He offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him help me to my feet. I was going to be sore tomorrow. Hell, I was sore now. “Hey, it wasn’t me he was after.” Then, in seriousness, “You’re sure you’ve never seen him before?”

      Kevin nodded. “Never.”

      I frowned as something occurred to me. “He said your name like he was asking for confirmation. He didn’t know you, either.”

      “Lark, what’s going on?”

      I looked around. The salt had scattered the ghost, and usually that was good for a while, but some strong spirits could get it together pretty quickly, and at this time of year all bets were off. I took him by the arm and pulled him toward the house. “Let’s get inside. We need to ghost-proof your house for when he comes back.”

      “You think he’ll come back?” Kevin asked as we stepped inside.

      “He was sent here to do a job, and he failed. I’m pretty sure he’ll be back, yeah.”

      Kevin set the bag of salt against the wall. “What job?”

      I met his gaze. He already knew the answer—I could see it. But he wanted to be wrong, and he wanted me to back him up. “I think he was sent to kill you.”

      * * *

      For someone with a spectral hit out on him, Kevin took the news fairly stoically. Instead of freaking out, he went immediately to work securing his house against ghosts. Roxi, Gage and I helped. Sarah had apparently left immediately after I walked in on her and Kevin in the kitchen, so she didn’t know about our surprise visitor.

      I called Ben. He’d want to help, and I knew he’d be upset if I waited until morning to tell him what happened. His family was as comfortable with the existence of ghosts as mine was, so he wasn’t going to get in trouble by staying out half the night helping to protect a friend from a nasty spirit. I gotta say that made life a lot easier for me.

      I reached out for Wren, figuring she would want to join the rest of us in determining why the ghost had come for Kevin and who had sent it, but she didn’t answer. That was weird. I waited a few minutes and tried again. This time I opened myself up to her. My connection to my sister has always been more soul than mind. We could pick up on how the other was feeling more than what she was thinking, although there had been times when I could’ve sworn we were telepathic.

      I wish I hadn’t opened myself up when I realized what she was feeling. It’s a little uncomfortable realizing your twin is having warm tingly feelings for someone. Especially some ghost wearing a cravat. I mean, come on. A cravat?

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