Part 34 (1/2)
As applied to not only dead but dismembered gardeners.
When did he start living such a weird, freakin' life? Oh, right, when Vicki ”I know best” Nelson pulled him in off the street to donate blood to a wounded vampire.
He wasn't sure whether or not he should be deeply disturbed that CB had called Henry for help. Bright side, Henry wasn't alone at the theater plotting revenge for being stood up and he'd delivered the laptop and if they happened to finally need a member of the aristocratic bloodsucking undead to storm the barricades from the outside, they had one on hand. Not-so-bright-side . . . well, it was hard to nail down anything resembling a decent reason, but Tony wasn't entirely happy with the thought of CB and Henry doing that buddy thing.
”Tony?”
The light levels hadn't changed significantly. Amy's sudden appearance right in his face was one of the more startling things he'd seen tonight.
”Why the frowny face?” she asked, clearly pleased with his reaction. ”You worried someone hoofed it out of here with the gardener's actual hand?”
”No,” he told her, opening a narrow drawer and balancing the laptop across it, while trying to reclaim a little dignity.
”If they had, we'd be playing 'ghost rampages across city for missing body part' instead of the standard 'haunted house tries to eat the souls of trapped and eccentric group.' ”
”Ghosts don't rampage.”
”This one would.”
”And if this plot is so standard, shouldn't we be doing a better job of getting the h.e.l.l out?”
”Maybe we're not eccentric enough.”
”Please, you're eccentric enough all on your own.”
”Me?”
”Hey there, Mr. Wizard, you're the one with the magic lessons on a laptop that seems to show nothing but spider solitaire . . .” Reaching out, she tried, unsuccessfully, to move the cursor. ”And eww . . . Why is your touch pad so sticky? Never mind.” A raised hand cut him off cold. ”I don't want to know. Just tell me how to haul your a.s.s back out of the spell and . . . What's that noise?”
”The err err creak?” He glanced away from the screen just long enough to catch her nod. ”When I heard it this afternoon, I thought it was the door to the stairs moving back and forth.”
”The door isn't moving, Tony.”
”I know.”
”Is it . . .” Her voice dropped dramatically. ”. . . one of the ghosts? And I can hear it? Why can I hear it? I mean, it's great, but why?” ”Maybe the house has finally worn down your natural cynicism.”
”As if.”
Contradictions wrapped in att.i.tude, that was Amy. ”Okay, maybe proximity. Take your boots off.”
Amy set the lantern on the floor and took a handful of black parachute cloth in both hands, lifting the wide legs of her cargo pants to expose gleaming black ankle boots laced in glittering pink. ”Off?”
”Off. According to this, I have to write runes on your bare feet to anchor you.”
”Cool.” She sat on the bottom step and began undoing the laces.
”It's July. Don't your feet get hot in there?”
”No. Besides, do I look like the little strappy sandal type?”
She really didn't. Her socks matched the laces. Her toenails matched her fingernails-magenta and black.
”That's a lot of work for something no one's ever going to see,” he mentioned, dropping to one knee and taking her left foot in his hand. Her toes curled in antic.i.p.ation as he pulled the top off the magic marker with his teeth.
”No one's asking you to do it,” she told him. Squinted. ”Tony, is that supposed to be an anchor?”
He leaned back and studied the black lines on her pale skin. ”What's wrong with it?”
”I'm the anchor, so I have anchors? That's not magic.”
”It's symbolism.” He bent over her other foot.
”Big word. Do you have any idea of what you're doing?”
”Honestly?”
She leaned back on her elbows and tipped her head up toward the err err sound. Dark brows dipped in, and Tony could see her remembering Tom and Brenda and Hartley. After a long moment she sighed and met his eyes. ”No. Lie to me.”
He squeezed her foot gently before he released it. ”I have complete confidence in my metaphysical ability to pull this off.”
”Liar.”
”Ow!” Blinking away the pain, he stood. ”Why the hitting?”
”You lied to me.”
”You told me to!” Tony was amazed to discover that when Amy stood up, she was considerably shorter than he was.
And he wasn't exactly tall. A quick glance over at her boots explained the discrepancy. ”How the h.e.l.l do you walk in those?”
”None of your d.a.m.ned business. Now let's do this before you go ghost walking again.”
The hand rubbing gave her away. Right over left, left over right-she looked like a gothpunk Lady Macbeth. Since she didn't have anything to feel guilty about, it had to be fear. Since he didn't have anything to say she might find even remotely comforting, he kept his mouth shut and pulled off his T-s.h.i.+rt.
”It's a cheat note,” he told her as he copied the symbol on the computer screen onto his chest. ”Because I've never done this before.”
”The line under your right nipple needs to curve up more.” She stepped toward him, bare feet slapping against the linoleum. ”Let me.”
”No, I have to do it.” Good thing he didn't have much chest hair. ”Better?”
”Yeah.” Half a step back. ”You ever think of getting your nipple pierced? You could go s.h.i.+rtless and wear a chain between it and your eyebrow.”
It was a good thing he'd already moved the marker away from his skin. ”Not exactly my style.”
”You don't have a style.”
He was about to disagree when he noticed Karl had stopped crying. ”Amy, the ballroom's about to start. We'll just sit down . . .” He dragged her down beside him onto the step. ”. . . and not go anywhere . . .” The fingers of his left hand linked with her right. ”. . . and we'll be . . .”
”c.r.a.p.”