Chapter 1
“BLOCK HIM AT the pass!” I dodged out of the way, trying not to dive face first into the dirt, but I didn’t see the stray tennis ball some dog had dropped under the bridge, and did a banana-peel flop onto my butt. I rolled to the side, hard, as the damned troll charged past. Or rather, troll spirit.
“I swear, the next blowhard who tries to tell me that spirits can’t be corporeal is going to get my fist in their face,” I groaned, rolling to a sitting position. Damn it. I had torn my skirt on a shard of glass. Well, better my skirt than my leg. At least I hadn’t broken my ankle. I had long ago given up fighting in stilettos, but tonight we hadn’t planned on a showdown and we were all dressed to the nines for dinner, and my heels were four-inch spiky sandals.
Delilah raced by, pausing to hold out her hand. I grabbed it and she hauled me up. As soon as she pulled me onto my feet, she was off again, trying to catch up to the lumbering ghost. Menolly was already up ahead, dangling off the troll’s back like some demented monkey, only cuter. I swallowed my pride, made sure nothing was broken, and hauled ass in their direction. Thanks to regular workouts, I was faster than I used to be, but I still lagged behind. Delilah was a natural-born athlete. So was Menolly, plus she was a vampire. Me? Not so much either one.
“He’s not slowing down and I can’t break his neck because he’s not alive!” Menolly’s voice echoed from up ahead. As I watched, the troll spirit veered directly toward a massive cedar.
“Watch out for—” I stopped, wincing as the spirit skidded to a stop. In a whiplash effect, Menolly went flying over his head. She landed a good three yards ahead of him, sliding along the asphalt, cursing like a sailor. The troll turned right onto a side street and bounded away, leaving us all in the dust.
“Well, that had to hurt.” Delilah shaded her eyes, watching the troll vanish.
I caught up to her and we jogged over to Menolly’s side. Menolly picked herself up off the road and dusted her hands on her jeans. We had lost the troll’s trail. Oh, we could go racing after him and probably pick it up again, but seeing that he was the spirit of a troll and not the actual creature, chances were we’d be off on a wild goose chase.
“What the hell was that?” Menolly stretched her arms over her head, then shook her shoulders out. Her eyes were glowing crimson in the pale light of dusk, a sure sign her hunting instincts had been out to play. “That wasn’t like any troll I’ve ever dealt with before.”
“That’s because it was a ghost, although not your typical run-of-the-mill spook. Somehow, the spirit managed to become corporeal.” I winced. The spill I’d taken was catching up to me and I was pretty sure I had bruised my tailbone. “What I want to know is where did it come from?”
We walked back beneath the overpass to stare at the Fremont Troll. A Seattle landmark, the troll was a massive sculpture that had been designed and created by a team of artists who called themselves the Jersey Devils. Formed from rebar, wire, and concrete, it was big enough to hold an actual Volkswagen Beetle in its hand. But behemoth or not, the troll was a just a sculpture. Or so we had thought. Nothing more than a neighborhood icon.
I would have been happy to remain blissfully ignorant, except Chase had called us while we were out to dinner. Someone had reported that the Fremont Troll had come to life and was rampaging around under the bridge. Once we got there, of course, we found the sculpture right where it had always been. However, there was a troll roaming around, only it was a confused, angry spirit.
“What do you suppose happened?” Menolly glared at the sculpture as we passed it. “Who on earth thought putting a troll under an overpass was a good thing?”
“They made this before the Supes came out of the closet.” But I was right behind her in giving it a nervous glance as we passed it. Actually, the Fremont Troll was rather fun. Fans dressed him up for the holidays, and he was as much a part of the Seattle landscape as was the Space Needle. No, the troll we had faced had only hidden inside the sculpture until something set him off.
“We already knew that spirits can sometimes take on corporeal form. Something spooked this one and he’s not happy. Which means our troll friend—the spirit, not the sculpture—is dangerous to anybody he happens to meet.”
“I know what did it.” Menolly dashed up the slope beside the troll to stand on top of his head. “Come up here.”
The last thing I wanted to do was climb up a dirt embankment in a fancy dress and corset, but I pulled off my shoes and Delilah and I scrambled up the easy rise. When we were on top of the troll, we were standing right beneath the overpass.