Love Your Entity (4 page)

A few minutes later, Sierra’s mom knocked on the door. “The strangest thing just happened. The woman across the hallway wanted me to thank you. She wouldn’t say why.”

Bonita’s mom moved shortly after that.

Later, Sierra had asked her mom if she’d ever seen ghosts. Her mom had replied that she was too busy for such things. Sierra suspected it was more likely that her mother already felt haunted by the memories of the terror and pain Sierra’s father had inflicted on her. She hadn’t wanted anything or anyone else haunting her.

Sierra lost track of how many ghosts she’d seen since then. There weren’t hundreds but there had been a number. Sometimes their message was simple, sometimes it was more complicated, sometimes there was no message and they were just confused. But they always moved on once Sierra dealt with them. But their memory remained with Sierra, which wasn’t always a good thing.

At least Sierra’s mom was in a better place now. A few years ago her mom had met Paul James, who treasured her. The two of them were living in New Zealand at the moment, where Paul was on a yearlong teaching sabbatical.

Her mom had been hesitant to leave her but Sierra had convinced her to go. Paul was an incredibly giving soul and Sierra could see the goodness in him. Trusting someone didn’t happen often for Sierra, and it hadn’t happened overnight but over the course of several years with Paul. He was one of the few good guys.

Normally Sierra’s mom would frequently Skype with her from New Zealand, but for the month of February they were in an area with few Wi-Fi or cell phone connections.

Her mom had been nervous about Sierra moving into the house in Chicago by herself but Sierra had convinced her that she’d be fine. It was hardly her first move, even though her mom had helped with the others.

The bottom line was that Sierra had this moving thing down pat. It was the “staying” part that she wanted to work on now.

Given Sierra’s background and the fact that she saw dead people, her romantic relationships tended to be few and short-lived. The longest had been her most recent. She and Steve had been together almost seven months when she’d decided they were better off as friends than as lovers. Steve had agreed. So the move to Chicago had come at a good time for Sierra, allowing her to move on.

“You’re braver than I am,” Daniella said.

Sierra carefully folded the cupcake liner and dropped it in her now empty coffee mug. “I don’t know about that.”

Sierra certainly wasn’t as brave as Nicki Champion, the heroine in her books. Although, the more time she spent writing about Nicki, the more Sierra took up the gauntlet of courage and control. Which was why she hadn’t turned tail and run when she’d seen Naked Ronan.

Those days of being afraid of her own shadow were over. It was time to put down roots for a bit and she might as well start here, with her great-uncle’s house. It would take her seven months to finish the book she’d just started writing. Since it revolved around a bootlegging Chicago Mob plot dating back to 1920s, this was the perfect place to find inspiration.

So, yeah, she didn’t give up easily. To her way of thinking that just made her persistent, not brave. Because if she really were brave, she wouldn’t still want to run sometimes.

Another crash came from the kitchen. “That better not be my Keurig,” Sierra growled.

*   *   *

Ronan sat on the closed casket on the basement floor. Nick sat beside him. Nick had come in from the tunnels leading beneath the house that dated back to the bootlegging days during Prohibition. That all had happened after Ronan had been turned. When he’d grown up in this house he’d been afraid to come down here. Now nothing scared him.

Not true. The possibility that he couldn’t save his sister’s soul scared him.

“You like the dark,” Nick noted.

“I live in the dark,” Ronan said.

“You won’t have to after tomorrow,” Nick said.

Part of Ronan would always remain in the dark. There hadn’t been any lights guiding him home. Only desperation.

He’d arrived here in the dark. Being able to survive sunlight meant he’d have more opportunity to find the key to breaking Voz’s hold on Adele’s soul. It didn’t mean that his afterlife would be all light and cheery.

Ronan pointed upstairs. “Can’t you get rid of her?”

“I assume you are referring to Sierra?”

Ronan nodded. “You’re in charge here—”

“No,” Nick corrected him. “The council is in charge. I’m not even the most senior member of the council. Pat Heller is. He’s been here in Vamptown the longest.”

“Were there vampires here when I lived here as a human?”

“Probably. You’d have to ask Pat. You could have asked him when he gave you the tattoo. Why didn’t you?” Nick said.

Ronan just shrugged and absently rubbed the back of his neck and the inked fleur-de-lis there. Instead of answering, he changed the subject. “Did Damon tell you that Sierra can’t be compelled?”

Even though it was pitch-dark, Ronan could see Nick nod.

“She’s not the only one. Daniella can’t be compelled either.”

“So human women can’t be compelled here in Vamptown?” Ronan was incredulous. “How does that work?”

“It wouldn’t work. Daniella is a hybrid,” Nick reminded him. “She’s part druid.”

“Then that’s what Sierra must be.”

“She’s not. We already checked her.”

“How?”

“You already know we have surveillance cameras all over Vamptown and in the buildings as well.”

“Right.”

“For some reason, we can’t get them to work well in this particular house. But we used the image we got of her entering the house and put it through our computers’ specialized heat sensor test,” Nick said. “If she had any druid or vampire blood, it would have shown up in those results. She’s human.”

“She’s not a normal human. I’m sure of it. Maybe she’s a witch or something. Do your computers show that?”

“No. But your neighbors are witches and they would know if she’s a witch. Damon checked with them the moment he discovered Sierra couldn’t be compelled. And she’s not a witch. But now that I think about it…”

“Yes. Now that you think about it?”

“Perhaps she can be slightly compelled. It’s not completely logical that she’d agree to let you stay here until her lawyer can be reached. I mean, what did you say your claim was to owning the house?”

Ronan tried to think back. Having a good memory was critical to a vampire but the fact that he’d been around for nearly a hundred years meant there was a lot of stuff in his head. Just as a vampire’s senses of hearing, smell, and touch were heightened, so too was his ability to remember. Which was more a curse than a blessing at times.

“No, I didn’t tell her why. I could hardly say that my family owned this house before World War One. Damon told her that the paperwork she has only applies to the house not the land but I didn’t go into details about my claim to the place.”

“So why did she agree to let you stay even if only temporarily? I doubt it was because of your charm.”

“It would be easier if she’d just leave.”

“We’re still trying to figure this out. She’s only been here a few hours. We’ll get to the bottom of it soon. Until then, just try to get along.”

“Getting along is not a vampire thing.”

“I am well aware of that,” Nick said. “I’m also aware that you haven’t told us everything about your vampire past.”

“And I never will,” Ronan said.

“Then tell me the parts that might affect us here in Vamptown.”

“There is nothing. I already told you that when you approved of my staying. You checked me out.”

“I know that you were an indentured vampire turned by Baron Voz. Vamptown has already survived a rival vampire attack followed by a demon infestation. We don’t need a Master Vampire coming down on us.”

“I put in my time,” Ronan said. “I’m no longer indentured. Check it out with Voz if you don’t believe me.”

“I did.”

“And?” Ronan said.

“And he confirmed your story.”

“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

“Not all of it.”

Ronan clenched his fists. “It’s all you need to know.”

“If you bring trouble here, you will pay,” Nick said.

“Understood.” Nothing Nick could threaten him with could compare to what Voz had already threatened. Ronan had bargained with the devil. The devil known as Voz. He’d done so to save his sister. But if he didn’t find the key Voz wanted then Ronan would be indentured to Voz for eternity.

*   *   *

“I thought you’d
never
get rid of her,” Ruby said after Daniella left.

“Step away from my Keurig,” Sierra ordered the ghost.

“The what?”

“The coffeemaker. And anything else you can break. I only own four mugs.”

“Now you own three.” Ruby pointed to the shards still on the floor.

Sierra angrily picked them up and tossed them into the garbage. Luckily the mug had broken into three pieces instead of many. “Stop breaking stuff! I don’t need this. I’ve had a long day.”

“Long?” Ruby put her hands on her ample hips. “You want to talk long? How about waiting ninety years or more for someone to hear you, or see you? Do you have any idea how it feels to be invisible?” Ruby said.

“Actually I sort of do.”

“Were you a ghost?”

“No,” Sierra said. “But growing up, we moved around a lot. I was always the new kid who never fit in. I coped by blending in to the background and becoming invisible so I wouldn’t stand out.”

Ruby played a tiny violin. “Tough tinsel.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Sierra said. “I’m a writer. We’re sensitive to other people stealing our lines.”

“Like I said, tough tinsel. Let’s get down to the bottom line here, shall we? You owe me. It’s thanks to me that you inherited this house and not the other two that came here before you. I helped scare them off,” Ruby said.

“Then scare Ronan off as well.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Sierra demanded.

“Because Ronan must stay,” Ruby said. “Or we will all perish.”

Chapter Four

“What? What are you talking about? What do you mean Ronan has to stay? Why?” Sierra demanded.

“To save you from the man upstairs,” Ruby whispered.

“Do you mean God?” Sierra whispered back.

“I mean Hal,” Ruby said.

Sierra frowned. “I don’t understand. Who is Hal?”

“He’s the ghost upstairs.”

“Why do we need saving from him?”

“Because he’s evil.”

Before Sierra could ask more questions, Ronan interrupted her.

“Who are you talking to?” he said.

She whirled to face him. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on me that way.”

“You’re tired.” He looked at her with those chocolate-brown eyes of his. “You should go to bed.”

“Yes, I should but not because you said so. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about needing those three references.”

He pointed to the empty cupcake box on the counter. “Daniella will vouch for me.”

“She’s not here anymore.”

“You can call her. The number is on the box.”

Ruby was waving her hands behind him.

“Fine,” Sierra said. “I’m going to bed now. Just for a couple minutes’ rest.”

She stomped into her bedroom and slammed the door. Or she would have if the box of her books hadn’t stood in the way. She shoved the box with her foot and closed the door.

Ruby floated right through and sank onto the bed.

“You don’t have much stuff,” she noted.

“I have more than I used to. When I was growing up, I couldn’t have more stuff than would fit in two black garbage bags.”

“Don’t make me play that pity violin again,” Ruby said. “Can we finally talk about me now?”

Sierra nodded, reached for a pillow from a nearby box, and sat on the other end of the bed.

“Okay, like I said, my name is Ruby. I was murdered in this house and I need your help punishing my murderer.”

Sierra wasn’t surprised to hear Ruby had been murdered. Spirits who couldn’t move to the other side often had ties to this world caused by a violent death or some other intense unresolved situation.

“Who murdered you?” Sierra asked.

“Hal.”

“The evil ghost upstairs?”

Ruby nodded.

“Shit,” Sierra said.

“I know.”

“Start at the beginning. Did you live in this house? Did he?”

“I worked here,” Ruby said.

“Worked here? As what?”

Ruby pointed to her scarce attire. “What do you think?”

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“I was a prostitute. I’m not real proud of it, although I was very good at it. I don’t like to brag but I was the most popular girl in Al’s prostitution ring.”

“Al?”

Ruby nodded. “Al Capone.”

“You knew him?”

“In the biblical sense?”

“In any sense.”

“Yes, I knew him. So did Hal. Hal was in charge of the prostitution division of the business.”

Great. So the ghost upstairs was a former gangster. That didn’t bode well.

“And no, I never knew Al in the biblical sense,” Ruby added. “Al never lived here. He had a house on South Prairie Avenue on the South Side of the city.”

“What was he like?”

“Forget about Al. This is about me, remember?”

“Okay, well then … when did you die?”

“I didn’t just die. I was murdered. On Valentine’s Day in 1929.”

“That’s the date of the Valentine’s Day massacre when Al Capone’s gang allegedly gunned down a rival gang.” Sierra leaned forward. “Did you know about that? Is that why you were killed?”

“I was never involved in those kinds of dealings. I was killed because I wanted to leave the business. I was dressed for work at the time, which is why I am stuck in these clothes instead of some mysterious white dress like girl ghosts are supposed to wear.”

“Spirits often appear wearing the clothes they wore when they died.”

“Yeah, well, after wearing these garters for ninety years I am sick of it,” Ruby said. “At first I thought this was a version of hell, that I was sent here because I was a prostitute. I thought being stuck here forever was my punishment.”