Back Up From the Grave Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Dedication
  2. Acknowledgments
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Epilogue
  43. An excerpt from Halfway to the Grave
  44. An excerpt from One Foot in the Grave
  45. An excerpt from At Grave’s End
  46. An excerpt from Destined for an Early Grave
  47. An excerpt from This Side of the Grave
  48. An excerpt from One Grave at a Time
  49. About the Author
  50. By Jeaniene Frost
  51. Copyright
  52. About the Publisher

I didn’t know if the bad weather would help us or hurt my mission, but when Bones said, “Now, Kitten,” I jumped off the boat without hesitation. The weights I’d strapped on kept me well below the surface, yet as intended, they weren’t enough to send me to the bottom. The storm had made the water murky, though. Even with the mask keeping saltwater out of my eyes, my vision was limited to only a dozen feet in front of me, disorienting me.

I pressed a button on the specialized dive watch around my wrist. The green light it emitted matched the glow from my gaze as it showed a digital map. Then I gave a few experimental kicks with my new diving fins, pleased with how smoothly they propelled me through the water. I wanted all the help I could get to conserve my energy.

A few hours later, I crawled up the seawall that bordered the Mississippi River, stripping off my mask, full-body wet suit, and fins once I was back on land. Beneath that, I wore leggings and a long-sleeved top, both black like my dive shoes and dyed hair.

It might not be the ideal outfit for a steamy night in New Orleans, but my skin would announce me as a vampire to those who knew what to look for, and I didn’t want anyone to know I was paying a visit to the city’s most famous resident tonight. Marie had spies at every airport, train station, boat dock, and highway into New Orleans, but not even the voodoo and ghoul queen could have every square foot of the river watched, let alone the canals that led from Lake Pontchartrain to the mighty Mississippi. That’s why I’d swum beneath the concealment of the waves, and why I now walked with what felt like agonizing slowness across the highway and up Fourth Street, heading toward the Garden District.

I didn’t need the map on my watch anymore. I’d visited the Garden District on my first trip here years ago with Bones. Like many others, I’d marveled at the beautiful, stately houses, some built before the Civil War. Prytania Street had been one of my favorites, and the two-story beige-and-pink house bordered by a gate with honeysuckle blooms peeking through the iron bars was one I remembered well.

Don had remembered it, too. It only took one glance at the online photo collage for him to say “That one,” while pointing a transparent finger at the screen. He’d been drawn to Marie’s home when he was hopping ley lines looking for me back when I had her grave power. For that reason, most ghosts probably knew where Marie lived. Other vampires and ghouls did, too, but only someone with a death wish would drop by unannounced.