“I was asking about physically, but that’s understandable. Listen carefully, Z. You need to know that you aren’t in this alone. There’s a war coming, and it’s bigger than just the living, and it’s bigger than just the Earth. A lot of those that came before you still have skin in this game. There are legions of us. Legions. But until the war starts, there’s rules set that we have to follow, including not meddling with the living. Ah, but you know I’ve never been too good with authority.” He chuckled.

I raised one shaking hand and pointed upwards questioningly.

Sam nodded. “Pretty much. It’s mostly hands-off the living world for reasons I don’t get myself. Way over my pay grade. But this place isn’t in the living world right now. Nobody important has laid claim to this place except for scum that live here. So the rules are in sort of a gray area, which is how come some of us came here to help. We’re buying you some time, but this needs to be finished by the living. I’ve got a message from Mordechai that’ll help. Since the Old Ones messed with your head, you can read other people’s memories. Think of this as a download.”

Sam reached out, put his palm on my forehead, and SNAP.

It was like getting a stun gun to the brain. But when the white-hot electrical vise grip unlocked from my synapses, there was a gigantic pile of new memories in my head. I’d watched other people’s memories unfold before as a result of my connection to the Old Ones’ artifact, but never anything like this. It was quite literally an infodump, and I was surprised to see who it was from…

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

He had been called many things since he’d died. He did not like being referred to as a ghost and preferred protector spirit, which seemed to him to have more dignity, though restless dead also had gravitas, but often had negative connotations. Usually the living that he had dealt with simply referred to him as the old man, since that was how he still tended to perceive himself, and thus how the living perceived him as a result. Regardless of what he was known as, the most common adjective applied to any of his titles by his superiors was usually stubborn.

Come on, girl. Pick up your telephone…There is not much time. Pick up the telephone, girl!

The girl in question was Holly Newcastle. The old man knew that she was the most suitable person available and time was of the essence. It was not often that he was allowed to interfere in the affairs of the living, but this was a prelude to the big war, one of his own flesh-and-blood descendants was in danger, and the Hunters could not afford to lose their champion.