“I’m not leaving with you,” Veritas announced, giving a critical look around the tunnel. “I might not have any prisoners for the council, but other Law Guardians will want to see this nest. It could hold clues to the others in this cult. The tokens in the pit that were used to manifest the creature hold enough magic to warrant further investigation in and of themselves.”
Vlad stopped in mid-step, almost causing me to walk into his back. “Yes, the creature that almost killed us. Tell me, how were you not caught in that spell along with the rest of us?”
My gaze swung over to Veritas. I’d been so wrapped up in everything else, I hadn’t had time to wonder that, but it was a really good question.
She arched a brow. “I ducked behind the door when I saw them beginning to cast the spell. Didn’t you see all the warding symbols painted on the walls? They were there to contain any magic into that antechamber alone.”
Her explanation was plausible, but somehow, I wasn’t buying it. Sure, that would explain how she’d been unaffected by this spell, but it didn’t explain how she’d been able to corral five necromancers into Mircea’s prison without getting affected by any more spells, and they had to have been casting them. It also didn’t explain how she could pause time the same way that a super-powerful demon could. No, Veritas had secrets. Big ones.
But I had no interest in finding them out. She could keep them, especially since I wanted her to keep my secrets, too. I didn’t need her sharing my trueborn witch, demon-kin status with the rest of the Law Guardians. They had proved to be far less than receptive to my kind in the past.
We entered the antechamber, and I braced for the pain that was about to deal me a knockout blow. Yet when I saw Marty’s body, I blinked in shock, wondering why I was seeing two of him.
One Marty was still sprawled on the ground, his head lolled back and his body now withered enough to resemble an ancient mummy. The other Marty floated next to the body, taking turns staring at it in a bemused way while also staring at his hand as if admiring how he could see the floor through it.
“Marty!” I shouted, and ran over to him. Yet when I tried to hug him, I ran right through him, my arms still outstretched. Then I spun around to find him shaking his head at me.
“You can’t hug a ghost, Leila, and unless this is the really low-rent version of heaven, that’s what I am now.”
I knew he was right. His being see-through while his dead body was lying in front of us made that abundantly clear, yet I still found myself fighting to process it.
“But you’re—you’re still you,” I sputtered.
He grunted. “Yep, seems so. Most ghosts I’ve come across aren’t, but there are some who keep their marbles.”
I was torn between being overjoyed to see him and being concerned for him, well, still being here. “Didn’t you, ah, see a light or a tunnel or anything?”
Even transparent, he managed to pull off a very jaded look. “You think I’d still be here if I had?”
“Some ghosts stay on to do one last thing,” Vlad said, slowly coming forward. “Some remain a while longer to make sure that their loved ones are safe. Some never leave. I’ve met a few of those. They form new lives out of their afterlife.”
Marty gave him a faint smirk. “New life, huh? Guess if I can go through walls, you can’t threaten to keep me away from Leila if I return to the carnival circuit during season.”
“No,” Vlad said quietly. “I can’t keep you from doing anything now.”
Marty glanced back at me. “There’s even a bright side to being dead. Who knew?”
I couldn’t believe that he was taking this with such a blasé attitude. I could hardly keep it together, and I wasn’t the one who’d just been murdered and come back as a ghost.
“Marty, I . . .” I tried to get the words out without crying, and I failed miserably. “I’m so sorry I failed. I wish I could have saved you.”
“Oh kid.” He started to put his arms around me, then stopped when they went through my waist.
“Let’s try this,” I said, sniffing back my tears as I got on my knees so we were eye level. Then I held my hands up. He smiled crookedly, putting his up, too, and I felt a slight tingle as his palms merged into mine.
“You didn’t fail me,” he said in a gruff voice. “You fought hard. That’s all any of us can do, and sometimes, things don’t turn out the way we want them to. That doesn’t mean you have anything to feel bad about. It’s just life.”
“I know,” I said, trying to smile. “You don’t have to worry about me.” Maybe his “one last thing” was making sure that I’d be okay. That was so like him. “I’ll be all right, Marty.”
“I know you will, kid,” he said, chucking my chin without touching it. “You’re tough. Always have been.”
“So are you, and I love you so much,” I said, choking back the tears.
He smiled. “Love you, too.” Then he looked up toward the ceiling. I did, too, but I didn’t see anything except more warding symbols, so I was surprised when he patted my cheek as best he could and said, “I, uh, think my ride is here, kid.”
Wait, no! I thought, but I forced another smile. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare let the last memory he has be of you breaking down in tears!
“Then you’d better go. Say hi to your daughter for me, and tell her she has the best father ever, okay?”