“We need to question a ghost who keeps disappearing on us,” I said. “Can you make one stay if he doesn’t want to?”

She bent down and picked up a glass of wine I hadn’t noticed before. Must have been hidden behind the fold of her skirt. The sight of that red liquid brought back a rage-inducing memory of the last time the three of us had been in this room: Bones pinned to the wall with Remnants gutting him from the inside out and Marie refusing to call them off until I agreed to drink her blood.

Knowing Marie, she’d chosen to bring that glass because she wanted us to remember. As if I could ever forget.

“I can do that without difficulty,” she replied as she sipped her wine. “Though you take a risk admitting to me that you can’t.”

I tensed, but Bones laughed as though she hadn’t just hinted at starting an all-out war between vampires and ghouls.

“Come now, Majestic, you have no interest in pitting our two species against each other. You’ve also known for some time that Cat no longer manifests your abilities, or are we to pretend that you haven’t been spying on us this past year?”

Marie raised her shoulder in a diffident shrug. “Only a fool chooses to live in ignorance when knowledge is so easily obtained.”

There were days when she reminded me of my friend, Vlad. He’d be equally unabashed about being caught spying.

“Now that that’s cleared up, will you help us?” I asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

I didn’t let out a sigh of relief. I knew better.

So did Bones. “For what price?”

Marie’s smile reminded me of a snake uncoiling itself to strike.

“The location of the ghost you imprisoned last Halloween. I want to know where you trapped Heinrich Kramer.”

Five

The word “no” rose in me, almost scalding my insides with the demand to be voiced. Another crack in his shields let me feel the rage that swept through Bones though the only visible sign was a muscle that ticked in his jaw.

“Why? What do you want with the witch hunter?” he asked with admirable calmness.

Her eyes seemed to glow with inner lights. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is when the motherfucker beat me with a car, had his accomplice shoot my best friend, and, oh yeah, set fire to me,” I said acidly.

Kramer had done more, but listing all his evil deeds would take too long. He’d been a murdering prick in life, and becoming a ghost didn’t stop him. It only enabled him to continue his reign of terror for centuries. We’d nearly died trapping Kramer, and now Marie wanted the address of his cell? If she ever let him out, Kramer would come straight for me. At best, one day I’d look down to see a silver knife sticking out of my chest. At worst . . . well, I’d rather the silver knife.

From the gleam in Marie’s gaze, she knew all of the above though her ghostly spies hadn’t found Kramer’s cell, obviously.