Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

the car for devices or strings or something. Finally, he looked back at Chad.
    â€œAre you all right sleeping in here?”
    â€œIt’s gone,” I told them both, and Corban obliged me by signing it.
    Chad nodded, and his hands flew. At the end of it, Corban grinned. “I guess that’s true.” He looked at me. “He told me the ghost hasn’t killed him yet.”
    Corban hefted the bookcase upright again, and I looked down at the mess of books and game pieces.
    I waited until Chad glanced my way. Then I pointed at his two-hole destroyer, plainly visible, surrounded by white, useless missile pegs. “So that’s where you hid it, you little sneak.”
    He grinned. Not a full-fledged grin, but enough that I knew he’d be fine. Tough kid.
    I left them to their manly nighttime rituals and went back to my room, all thoughts of going home tomorrow shelved. I wasn’t going to abandon Chad to the ghost. I still had no idea how to get rid of it, but maybe I could help him live with it instead. He was already halfway there.
    Corban knocked at my door a few minutes later, then cracked it open.
    â€œI don’t need to come in,” he said. He stared at me grimly. “Tell me you didn’t engineer that somehow. I checked for wires and magnets.”
    I raised my eyebrow at him. “I didn’t engineer anything. Congratulations. Your house is haunted.”
    He frowned. “I’m pretty good at sniffing out lies.”
    â€œGood for you,” I told him sincerely. “Now I’m tired, and I need to go to sleep.”
    He backed away from my doorway and started down the hall. But he hadn’t gotten two steps before he turned back. “If it is a ghost, is Chad safe?”
    I shrugged. Truthfully, the smell of blood bothered me. Ghosts, in my experience, tend to smell like themselves. Mrs. Hanna, who used to visit my shop sometimes—both when she was alive and after she died—smelled like her laundry soap, her favorite perfume, and the cats who shared her home with her. I didn’t think the blood was a good sign.
    Still, I gave him the truth as I knew it. “I’ve never been hurt by a ghost, and I only know of a few stories where someone was hurt, mostly only bruises. The Bell Witch supposedly killed a man named John Bell in Tennessee a couple of centuries ago—but it was probably something other than a ghost. And old John died of poison that the Witch was supposed to have put in his medicine, something more mundane hands could have done as well.”
    He stared at me, and I returned it.
    â€œYou date a werewolf,” he said.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAnd you say there are ghosts.”
    â€œAnd fae,” I told him. “I work with one. After werewolves and fae, ghosts aren’t such a leap now, are they?”
    I shut my door and went to bed. After a few long minutes, he retreated to his bedroom.
    I usually have a hard time sleeping in strange places, but it was very late (or really early), and I hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep the night before either. I slept like a baby.
    When I woke up the next morning there were two puncture marks, complete with a nifty purple bruise, on my neck. They were a lovely addition to the stitches in my chin. And my lamb necklace was gone.
    I stared at the bite in the bathroom mirror and heard Samuel tell me that I shouldn’t count upon Stefan still being my friend ... and Stefan making it clear that he needed to feed in order to avoid detection. I knew there were consequences to being bitten, but I wasn’t sure what they were.
    Of course I’d met another vampire last night. For a moment I hoped it was him. That Stefan hadn’t bitten me while I slept. Then I really thought about being bitten by James Blackwood, who scared the things that scared me. And I hoped it was Stefan.
    Stefan would have needed an invitation into the house, though. Had I asked him in, and he’d somehow erased the memory? I hoped so. It seemed the lesser of two evils.
    The bathroom door popped open—I’d just come in to brush my teeth, so it wasn’t locked. Chad stared at my neck, then looked at me, eyes wide.
    And I hoped it was Stefan, because I was going to stay here until I helped ... somehow.
    â€œNo,” I told Chad casually, “I wasn’t lying about the vampires.” I thought I wouldn’t mention I’d received it last night if he