Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

rights, and by the time we finished, he wasn’t scared anymore.
    I could smell it, though. It was watching us.
    I dusted my hands off and looked around. “You usually keep your room this neat, kid?”
    He nodded solemnly.
    I shook my head. “You need help. Just like your mom. My little sister kept fossilized lunches under her bed for the dust bunnies she raised there.”
    I picked up a game from the neat stack. “Want to play some Battleship?” I wasn’t leaving him alone with that thing in there.
    Chad armed himself with a notebook, and we went to war. Historically, war has often been used as a distraction for problems at home.
    Both of us lay on our bellies on the floor facing each other and fired our missiles. Adam called, and I told him he’d have to wait—battle must take precedence over romance. He laughed, wished me good night and good luck, just like that old war correspondent.
    Chad’s two-point boat was devilishly well hidden, and he destroyed my navy while I hunted it fruitlessly.
    â€œArgh!” I cried with feeling. “You sank my battleship!”
    Chad’s face lit with laughter, and someone knocked at the door. I supposed I hadn’t needed to make so much noise since Chad couldn’t hear me anyway.
    â€œCome in,” I said. Reading my lips, Chad looked suddenly horrified, and I reached over and patted his shoulder.
    The door popped open, and I rolled halfway over and looked back over my feet as if to see who it was. Most people would have needed to look, so I did, but I’d heard him coming—and Amber had never stalked angrily in her life. Stomp, yes. Stalk, no. Trust me—any predator knows the difference.
    â€œIsn’t it after bedtime?” Corban said. He was wearing a pair of sweats and an old Seattle Seahawks shirt. His hair was rumpled as if he’d been to bed. I supposed I’d woken him up.
    â€œNope,” I told him. “We’re playing games and waiting for the ghost to show up. Want to join us?”
    â€œThere isn’t a ghost,” he said to his son, out loud and in sign.
    I’d started to like Corban over dinner, he had seemed like a decent guy. But he was being a bully now.
    I rolled up until I was facing him. “Isn’t there?”
    He frowned at me. “There are no such things as ghosts. I am very happy you’ve come here to visit, but I don’t approve of encouraging nonsense. If you tell them there isn’t one here, they’ll believe you. Chad has enough to deal with without everyone thinking he’s crazy.” He’d continued to sign, even though he was talking to me. I didn’t know if he left out the bit where I was supposed to tell Chad and Amber there weren’t any ghosts.
    â€œHe’s a damn fine naval commander,” I told Corban. “And I think he’s too smart to make up ghosts.”
    He signed my reply, too. Then he said, “He just wants attention.”
    â€œHe gets attention,” I said. “He wants to stop being scared because someone he can’t see or hear is making a mess in his room. I thought you were the one who suggested I come check it out. Why did you do that if you don’t believe in ghosts?”
    There was a loud bang as the car on the top of Chad’s chest of drawers made a suicide run off its perch, zoomed three feet across the room to hit the bookcase, and fell onto the floor. I’d been watching it roll back and forth, just a little bit, out of the corner of my eye for the last fifteen minutes, so I didn’t jump. Chad couldn’t hear it, so he didn’t jump. But Corban did.
    I got up and picked the car up. “Can you do that again?” I asked, setting the car back on the top of the bookcase.
    I knelt beside Chad and looked at him so he could see my mouth. “It just made that car fall off. We’re all going to watch and see if it can do it again.”
    Silenced by the car’s fall, Corban sat down next to Chad and put a hand on his shoulder—and we all watched the car turn slowly in place then fall off the back of the bookcase.
    Then the bookcase fell facedown on the floor, right on top of Chad’s plastic ocean fleet. I caught a glimpse of someone standing there, hands up, then nothing—and the sweet-salt smell of blood that I’d been smelling since I first entered the room faded away.
    I stayed where I was while Corban checked the bookcase and