Allison was right about that. The more I thought about the "ghost," the more I questioned what I had seen.
"You need to see this ghost again, Sam. And maybe you need me to tag along with you."
"You're half right," I said.
Allison scrunched her eyebrows together, then stuck out her tongue at me. "You're mean."
"What do you expect from a bloodthirsty fiend?"
"Fine, whatever. I just think you could use me-wait! You're going there tonight."
"I am."
"And you want to be left alone so that you can read that damn book."
"You caught me."
"Let me come, Sam. Pleeeease. I will be good. I just wanna read a few chapters. Puh-lease!"
"You sound worse than my kids."
"Please, please, please!"
"Fine, you can come."
She threw her arms around me and gave me a big fat kiss on my cheek.
"Gross," I said, wiping it off with the back of my hand.
"You're telling me. It was like kissing a dead-"
"Don't say it," I said. "Or I won't bring you tonight."
"Fine."
"Don't think it either," I said.
"I already did."
"Now who's the bitch?" I asked.
Chapter Eight
With the events of the last few months, events that had made national headlines, Tammy had made it a point to pick up Anthony from school each and every day.
This was both sweet and scary and rewarding for me. Rewarding to see their bond growing. Scary because I was not there to do the picking up part myself. And sweet because it freed up my afternoons. I knew his school had installed even more cameras and added three or four security guards. The security guards were privately keeping an eye on my son. I knew this because I had commanded them to do so. My son was about as safe as a boy could be at school.
Additionally, Archibald Maximus, the alchemist to the stars (that's a joke) had since forged magical rings for my kids, rings that would render their "silver cord" invisible. A neat trick. Now, the baddies out there who feasted on the pure Hermes bloodline of little Light Warriors, couldn't find them. Nor would other Light Warriors, too, but that was less of a concern. The bottom line was: my kids were safe, their auras were hidden, and I could breathe easily again.
For now.
And what had become of the teacher behind my son's abduction, the sick bastard who had planned to watch the whole bloody show from high above? Well, he had disappeared completely... only to reappear in Kingsley's safe room. And by safe room, I meant safe for the rest of us. Kingsley, with each full moon, was about the biggest and baddest werewolf alive, and the teacher, as far as I knew, had been torn to shreds, since Kingsley preferred his meat rotten, not fresh. Undoubtedly, Franklin had long since burned the man's remains.
The werewolf pack that had gathered that night to feast upon my son had all met nasty ends, too, thanks primarily to my son-and thanks to the entity my son had summoned, the Fire Warrior. My son still wasn't right, and I didn't blame him. After all, he had killed those who wished to do him harm. Werewolves were men, too, after all. And this haunted my son to no end.
I also knew Anthony hadn't fully come to terms with the fact that he had, in effect, switched bodies with another entity, an entity he fully controlled. Hell, I wasn't fully used to it either, with Talos. That the entity he became seemed to be an unstoppable warrior that wielded a fiery sword and stood nearly ten feet tall was all sort of badass that, at present, was lost on my son. He would come around, I knew. Someday, he would understand that in our world-the world of freaks and monsters-that it was kill or be killed. And he had lived to fight another day. Nothing wrong with that.
Then again, that my thirteen-year-old son would have to live by such a motto was a terrible price that I paid every day, over and over and over...
At present, I was sitting in my minivan-not very far from where I had just downed a smoothie in record time. My windows were cracked enough to let in the fresh air, but not so much that anyone could overhear the conversation I was about to have. That is, a one-sided conversation, with me doing the talking and my hand doing the writing.
Who did the writing remained to be seen. In the past, it had been everyone from my spirit guide named Sephora, to a highly-evolved master named St. Germaine, to even an entity that I considered Mother Earth. So, truthfully, I hadn't a clue who would come through-or if anyone would. Since I hadn't used automatic writing in a while, I wasn't sure who I was plugged into these days, quite frankly.
I kept a small notebook in my purse, not for automatic writing, but for taking statements. I clicked on my pen and opened my small notebook to a blank page. I moved the pen to the top of the line and closed my eyes and heard a small breeze force its way into the cracked window. The same breeze then moved over the skin of my arm. Of course, I could have been sitting here with the windows rolled up, but I liked fresh air, even if I didn't have to breathe it. Fresh air was comforting and, well, yummy.