Love Your Entity(62)
“How do you know whatever you did even worked?”
Ronan pointed to her laptop. “Go ahead. Try to e-mail someone about Vamptown.”
“Okay. I will.” She sat down and entered her publicist Katie’s name.
You’ll never believe this but my house in Chicago is surrounded by an enclave of
Sierra hit the keys for vampire but nothing showed up on her screen.
Men with
She typed fangs but that didn’t show up
They drink
Blood refused to appear on the screen too.
She was so aggravated that she hit the send button by mistake. Shit.
Katie, being the efficient professional that she was, e-mailed her back.
You are surrounded by men with what? Are you in danger?
She tried to type yes but that didn’t work either.
She turned in her seat to confront Ronan. “I write for a living. You are stealing words from me!”
“Only if you try to use them to reveal our presence. You better e-mail your friend before she calls the police and Alex has to come out. He went easy on you the first time. He won’t be that nice this time.”
I’m fine, she typed. Dealing with an ass of a character in the book.
Glad to hear you are ok. You just got another great review for your summer book. Here’s the link. Check it out, Katie wrote.
Ronan closed her laptop. “There’s no more time,” he said. “We need to leave now.”
Sierra was so angry she could hardly see straight. Which wasn’t helping anything. She needed to regain control. Taking several deep breaths helped. “How are we supposed to get there?”
He held up a set of keys. “I borrowed Zoe’s car.”
Sierra snatched the keys out of his hand. “I’m driving.”
If she couldn’t control the situation, at least she could control Zoe’s Mini Cooper.
* * *
Sierra heard the voices before she got out of the car. They weren’t human voices.
Pointing to the closed gates blocking the cemetery entrance, she said, “It’s after hours. The place is closed. How are we supposed to get in?”
“Simple.” Ronan took her in his arms and leaped over the high wrought-iron fence as if it were nothing more than a mere speed bump.
Setting her back on her feet, he looked around. “Which way to Hal’s grave?”
Normally Ronan’s supernatural vault would have thrown her but she was distracted by the surge of voices filling her head, getting louder with every word. She was infused with cold. Not normal February-in-Chicago cold but ridiculous, the-surface-of-Neptune cold. Rubbing her hands together didn’t help.
“I told them I wanted a musical note on my headstone,” one ghost complained.
“At least you got a headstone. Mine is falling over,” another said.
She could hear them but didn’t see them as clearly as she did Ruby or Hal. Instead these were more vague shapes and images that would come and go. A head here, a body there. Totally Sleepy Hollow.
“What’s wrong now?” Ronan demanded.
“There are a lot of spirits here.” And they were making themselves known. “It’s hard to focus.”
“Try harder. Pretend you’re doing research for your book. As long as it doesn’t involve vampires or Vamptown, your characters could have sex in a cemetery.”
“Nicki would never have sex in a cemetery,” Sierra said. “She’s much too classy for that.”
“I read your books. She’s not that classy.”
“Yes she is!” Sierra’s teeth were starting to chatter. There was no point arguing with Ronan. She brought out her trusty flashlight. A strange mist was rising from the ground all around them. Angels wept atop headstones at an angle befitting the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Sierra had always wanted to go to Italy someday. Now she just wanted to get out of this cemetery.
Sierra shrieked and her heart almost jumped out of her chest as her flashlight beam picked up a face staring at her. It wasn’t a ghost. It was Tanya.
“What are you two doing in a cemetery?” Tanya asked. “Is this research for your next book?”
“What are you doing here?” Sierra asked shakily.
“Following you, but I got lost along the way. So fill me in,” Tanya said. “Why are we here?”
“Research,” Sierra said.
Tanya nodded and clutched her faux-fur coat closer. “I knew it. Tell me what we’re looking for.”
“Hal Bergerstock’s grave.” Sierra had found a photo of Hal’s headstone in the material Mary Nolan had shared under pressure.
“Want me to dig it up for you?” Tanya offered eagerly.
“No!” Sierra emphatically shook her head. “The grave should be this way.” She squinted in the increasing misty fog, trying to read the names on the headstones they passed. So intently was she focused that she almost ran right into Damon, who suddenly stood in front of her, appearing out of nowhere.