Sisters Of Salt And Iron

“You did this?” I asked, turning to Noah.

He shrugged. “I merely made it possible for you to see it in another dimension. The Haven Crest you know still exists, but this is how it sees itself. I think this version is much prettier, don’t you?”

I nodded. The jolt I’d felt and all this beauty only made me more certain that Haven Crest was its own entity. “It’s like something on Masterpiece Theatre.”

“Masterpiece Theatre? Never heard of it.”

I laughed. “No. It’s a little after your time.” I gripped his hand tighter. “Noah, thank you for showing me this.”

He smiled. “It’s important to me that you see this place as I do, that you understand why those of us who choose to be here are reluctant to go.”

My gaze was still busy taking it all in. How different it looked! “I wish Lark could see this.”

“The living are incapable of it. They see only death and decay.” He said it with a sneer.

“Lark isn’t like most of the living,” I informed him—maybe a bit defensively. “She would be able to see this, if it was shown to her.”

“Well, then, maybe we’ll find a way to make her see.”

The thought of the look on my sister’s face when she saw this beautiful place made me grin. “I’d like that.”

“I would do anything to make you smile exactly as you are right now. I’ve never seen anything as lovely in all my days—alive or dead.”

“You’re a flirt,” I accused, practically fluttering my eyelashes.

“You inspire it in me,” he replied with a wink. “Shall I show you about the grounds?”

I hesitated. The last time I’d been in the main buildings Josiah Bent had tried to bend me to his will and badly injured my friends.

“I assure you no harm will come to you,” Noah comforted me. “And the man who once tormented you is gone from this place—forever. Your sister saw to that.”

I believed that. When Lark put her mind to banishing a spirit, she did a pretty good job of it. I did, too, come to think of it. The last time being on these very grounds. “Won’t some of them hate me for getting rid of Bent?”

“Josiah Bent was a terrible man, and we’re glad to be rid of him. He thought of nothing but himself, and had nothing but blatant contempt for this place and those of us who had been here long before he showed up. Come with me, you’ll see.”

I let him lead me up the gravel path toward the main building. The ghosts around us came closer. Some of them reached out as though they wanted to touch me. Others smiled and shied away. But they all looked happy to see me, as though we were old friends. They would never look at Lark like this, not with her belief that most ghosts were evil.

I smiled back at them, and for the first time in my existence, I was happy that my sister wasn’t with me.

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LARK

I punched Woodstock in the face. The blow knocked him back.

The second ghost I’d hit in twenty-four hours. That had to be a record, even for me.

“I can see him,” Kevin said dumbly. “Like, really see him.”

I kept my gaze on the ghost, fists clenched, ready. “It’s almost Halloween. Hasn’t this happened to you before?”

“No.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him slip something on his fingers—iron rings. I’d yet to find a better weapon against ghosts. “But since you and Wren came back to town, my sensitivity to the dead has increased.”

Made sense. Lately I’d been thinking more and more that if I was around people who were in tune to ghosts, I acted as a kind of magnifier for their abilities.

The ghost had shaken off my punch and came back for more. He hit me in the face so hard my vision blurred. I kicked him between the legs. Dead or not, a guy’s still got his junk.

I shook my head and delivered an uppercut to Woodstock’s jaw. “Do you know this guy?” I yelled at Kevin.

He landed a punch on the ghost, as well. “Never seen him before in my life.”

“Well, he knows you.” I managed to get the words out before the hippie slammed his shoulder into my gut. “I thought you guys were peaceful!” I shouted as I hit the ground. My head slammed into the paved drive. Black swarmed my vision, followed by an array of stars that spun so fast I thought I might puke.

“You can’t run from me, little man!” the ghost shouted with a cackle. I heard Kevin’s footsteps pounding against the ground. Through blurry eyes, I saw Woodstock start to follow after him. I reached out and grabbed him by the ankle, pulling hard.

Off balance, the ghost fell, his other foot slamming into my shoulder. I grunted and tried to roll away, but he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back. My eyes watered at the pain, but I didn’t make a sound.

Woodstock straddled my chest. Swimming in and out of focus, he leered at me. The smell of patchouli and pot filled my nostrils. “You’re not as pretty as your sister,” he told me. “We can still have a little fun, though.”

How did he know Wren? And was that a ghost-boner pressed against my stomach? A little tingle of fear raced down my spine. He could rape me if he overpowered me. I’d heard of people being sexually assaulted by ghosts before. Not something I ever wanted to experience.

“Fuck you,” I growled.

His expression turned angry. He shifted his weight to lean closer. God, the smell of him was all over me. His movement let me pull my arm out from beneath his knee. I moved fast, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing with all my strength.

Not to brag, but I’m strong—especially against ghosts. I can’t explain it and I don’t care. It’s enough for me that I can fight the dead. I’ve been a match for most that I’ve gone up against, and Woodstock was no different. His fingers curled around my arm and hand, trying to pry my fingers loose.

I kept squeezing. Not like I could kill him, but the iron on my finger would hurt him.

Suddenly, I was pelted by a spray of pebbles. No, not pebbles, I realized as one hit my lip with a hard sting. It was salt. The kind you use in winter to melt snow. It hurt as it rained down on my face.

Woodstock howled and exploded into mist, leaving me holding nothing but air. I pushed myself up onto my arm, coughing out pellets that had gotten in my mouth. When I looked up, Kevin stood above me, holding a large bag that was still half-full of the noxious salt. I felt grimy from it—itchy.

“You couldn’t have just thrown handfuls at him?” I asked. “You had to dump the whole damn bag over his head?”

“It wasn’t the whole bag,” Kevin retorted, scowling. “And you’re welcome.”

He offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him help me to my feet. I was going to be sore tomorrow. Hell, I was sore now. “Hey, it wasn’t me he was after.” Then, in seriousness, “You’re sure you’ve never seen him before?”

Kevin nodded. “Never.”

I frowned as something occurred to me. “He said your name like he was asking for confirmation. He didn’t know you, either.”

“Lark, what’s going on?”

I looked around. The salt had scattered the ghost, and usually that was good for a while, but some strong spirits could get it together pretty quickly, and at this time of year all bets were off. I took him by the arm and pulled him toward the house. “Let’s get inside. We need to ghost-proof your house for when he comes back.”

“You think he’ll come back?” Kevin asked as we stepped inside.