Frost Burned

the place where he was kidnapped and held.”
    “Is something wrong?” she asked.
    “Not necessarily,” I said, though I was suspicious that Hao had been so careful not to tell me that we were meeting at the winery Adam and Elizaveta had burned to ash. “She might have something to show me here.”
    Or maybe not. Maybe I’d just been really, really stupid.
    I took a breath. “Tell Adam that I didn’t recognize the vampire who brought us here. He says his name is Thomas Hao, and he drives a Subaru Forester with California vanity plates that say DAYTIME .” I spelled it for her. On a vampire’s car, the plates could mean anything from irony to hope.
    “Could be this isn’t Marsilia’s gig at all,” I said, not liking that thought, either.
    “I’ll tell them.”
    I hung up the phone and continued to follow the vampire.
    We came upon the burnt remains of the winery from the back side, the final confirmation of my suspicions. The fire had burned hot, leaving only stone, cement, and just a few shards of very black wood behind. Elizaveta had been thorough in this as in everything else she did.
    The waxing moon, three-quarters full, gave the remains a horror-movie eeriness. As did the ghost waiting next to the vineyard on the opposite side of the dirt track we were following. Seeing ghosts was not unusual, and that one wasn’t the only ghost hovering about. I would not have paid any attention to him except that he looked familiar. I sped up until I was close enough to get a good look.
    It was Peter, our Peter. He was standing next to one of the angled posts set into the earth to support the wires that the grapevines cling to. He was hugging himself and looking toward the—I checked—mostly empty parking lot in front of the building-that-was.
    I stopped, turned off lights and engine both, and got out of the car, forgetting my worries about whether or not I’d been summoned here by Marsilia, by Hao, or by some unknown enemy.
    Ghosts are the remnants of the people they had once been. Most of the ones I’ve met don’t have much, if any, intelligence. There was no reason to stop. This wasn’t Peter, not really. He didn’t need me—but that didn’t matter. He
looked
like he needed someone, and I couldn’t leave him alone and vulnerable.
    As I rounded the front of the Mercedes, the backup lights of Thomas Hao’s car turned on, Warren’s truck pulled in behind me—and Peter turned and saw me.
    “Get out of here, Mercy,” he told me earnestly. “There is someone very bad here.” He tipped his head toward the burnt-out building. He was as coherent and aware as I’d ever seen.
    “Peter?” I asked, conscious of Honey and Asil getting out of the truck.
    “He can’t get me,” Peter said, sounding more hopeful than certain. “He’s calling me. Can you hear it? It’s like when Adam calls, but different.” He shivered and took a step toward the parking lot.
    “Who is calling you?” I asked.
    Peter shook his head. Sometimes ghosts appear in their dying state—complete with blood and gore. But there was no bullet hole in Peter’s forehead, nor was he wearing the slacks and dress shirt he’d been wearing when I’d last seen him at Thanksgiving dinner, the ones he’d worn when he’d died. Instead, he wore the jeans, steel-toed boots, and flannel shirt that was his more usual garb.
    I hadn’t noticed at first because his presence had been too faint, but he’d become more real as he talked. If I hadn’t known him, hadn’t known he was dead, I might not have figured out he was a ghost—he was that solid to me.
    Hao got out of his car and approached, arriving about the same time as Asil and Honey.
    “Mercy?” asked Asil. “Who are you talking to?”
    Honey whined very softly, staring at me intently, and Peter looked at her.
    He fell on his knees, his face raw with pain, sorrow, and need, tears sliding down his face. “Honey.
Min prinsesse.
Oh, Honey, I am lost.” He reached out and touched her, his fingers making her fur move. She shook and tried to get closer, though I don’t think she could see him. Her movement only pushed her body through him.
    Even when people don’t know that there is a ghost present, they don’t tend to stay intermingled with them for very long. Honey was no exception, and she took three quick steps back until she stood next to Asil, who put his hand on her head.
    “Peter,” I said.
    Honey whined again and let out a little yip. Peter reached out, leaning until