The rag in his hand stilled. “You shouldn’t thank me for doing what any decent person would do.”
It took a beat for me to realize he must think I was still hung up on using Maud’s blood. “No, I mean dropping your life to race down here and play tutor for me. I appreciate it. There’s so much I don’t know, and it’s nice having someone around I can ask.”
His hand resumed its scrubbing circles. “I’m happy to help, but you understand this isn’t an act of altruism on my part?”
Yes, I had known that. Too bad he brought it up right when I was feeling charitable toward him. “Your mother—”
“No.” He leaned his hip against the counter, angling his body toward me. “My field of study is necromantic evolution. I catalog the growth and change of our powers over time in an effort to predict what they might become during the next generations as well as how to maximize the current magics we possess.”
“I’m a research project for you.”
“Yes.” He examined my face. “The promise of working with you is how Mother lured me down here.”
“Okay.” I gusted out an exhale and felt ten pounds lighter. “I can deal with that.”
More than dealing with his admission, I embraced it with both hands. It was oddly reassuring to know he was here, at least in part, to sate his own curiosity. While I didn’t love the idea of being the topic of future research papers, I did need his help figuring out how my magic worked, and he would be more driven if he was quenching his own thirst for knowledge at the same time. And, to be honest, it was easier trusting a man who experimented on himself too. It made the whole thing feel less…clinical.
“You’re not upset?” The plate he had almost scrubbed a hole in slipped from his hand into the dingy water. “You don’t mind me chronicling your journey?”
“No.” I rescued the dish and rinsed it clean. “This is more honest than any reason I had assigned you.”
“Ah.” His laughter was brittle. “I see.”
The sound made me flinch. “It’s hard for me to trust anyone these days.”
“I understand.” His sudsy hand covered mine, chilly despite the warm water. “Come on. We don’t have long before Taz arrives.” He retrieved a fresh dish towel for me while he dried off. “Are you working tonight?”
“I’m not sure. I lost my job at Haint Misbehavin’. Cricket, the owner, has agreed to let me fill in as needed.” Sort of. “She bought a haunted riverboat that’s apparently been in the news recently. There’s a chance I’ll get picked as a hostess after the launch, but until then I’m in limbo, really.”
“You’ll have to drop down to part-time hours once our studies become more intensive,” he warned. “We’ll be taking field trips in the weeks to come, some of them overnight, and there will be assignments you can’t perform indoors without access to a basement. Meaning we may have to rent an underground space.”
“That sounds fair.” It’s not like I planned on being a Haint forever. I only wanted that tiny dose of normal each night for as long as it lasted. “Just give me a heads-up so I can let Cricket know in advance.”
Maybe the third time would be the charm and I could manage a two-week notice.
Together we finished cleaning up our mess and gathered our supplies. I left Eileen on the table, uncovered, so she could entertain herself while we were outside. I figured the worst thing to do to a multi-eyed book was blind it with darkness. Actually, that was the worst thing you could do to anyone.
Mixing the concrete was easy-peasy thanks to the machine Linus had the foresight to rent for the job. The resulting goop held a faint pink tint, courtesy of Maud’s blood, but it cleared up after we blended in some powdered hawthorn berries and calendula.
The process of slathering it on the foundation like icing on a cake required a technique Linus had, of course, mastered. Me? Not so much. Mostly I slopped trowels full of the stuff over his tidy work from the previous night while he followed behind me scraping off the excess and finessing the remainder to a smooth finish.
We completed two sides before Taz announced herself with a playful yank on my ponytail that made my eyes water and might have dislocated a few vertebrae.
“What are you two doing?” She peered over our shoulders. “Why does it smell like that? Coppery?”
I wasn’t sure what worried me more—that she had been playing with me and almost broken my neck in the process, or that she could smell blood through the herbs and wet concrete scents.
“Just some home improvements.” I skirted the truth. “Linus was kind enough to lend me a hand.”
“This couldn’t keep until tomorrow?” Her thin eyebrows winged higher. “Boaz will be here by then.”
Beside me, Linus curled his fingers around the handle of his trowel until his knuckles pushed against his skin.
“Boaz is coming home?” A glob of concrete plopped onto my knee. I couldn’t stop the smile stretching my cheeks. “That dirty sneak. He didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t know?” Her face screwed up into a scowl. “He should have told me it was a surprise.”
“It’s fine.” I scraped my tools clean. “Linus, do you need help tidying before Taz and I get started?”
“I’ll keep going if you don’t mind.” He wasn’t looking at me now. “I want to smooth these edges before they set.”
I leaned into his field of vision. “I can stay and help if—”
“You should practice.” The wraith moved behind his eyes, his lips almost blue in the shadows. “You don’t have much time before work.”
Shrinking back, I got to my feet and rolled my shoulders. I didn’t bother dusting off my pants. I would be rolling in the dirt again soon enough.
Cricket met me in the parking lot at HQ with a scowl pinned on her puckered mouth. Dressed in a black satin swing dress, this one with spiderweb lace overlaying the fabric, she looked like she’d stepped out of a funeral photo from the fifties. Her personal style clashed with the Southern belle shtick she pedaled, but she made it work. Skirts rustling in agitation, she crossed to me in neck-breaker stilettos. “You went to Sean Voorhees behind my back.”
“Sean Voorhees?” I echoed. “I’m not familiar with—”
“He owns River Street Steam. He’s my new partner for the haunted history cruises.”
“Oh.” So that was the name of Neely’s contact. “Since janitorial work is too light at the main office for both Dom and me, I thought I would check and see if he needed extra hands.”
The unlit cigarette stuck to her bottom lip gave a perilous wiggle. “You called a man up and asked for a job without first learning his name?”
Put that way, it did sound bad. “Yes?”
“You’ve got more balls than brains, hon.” She pursed her lips. “I could use a girl on the inside. I’m not saying Voorhees is swindling me, he quoted me a fair price for my share of the business, but the restorations we agreed on shouldn’t take half as long as he’s estimating. We need to get that boat back paddling water as soon as possible so we can cash in on the summer rush.”
Savannah was lousy with tourists during the summer, so the timing could be ideal. The guides would have a few months to tweak their presentations in front of small, captive audiences before peak season arrived. Not to mention being able to capitalize on the local buzz.
I linked my hands in front of me. “Are you saying I’ve got the job?”
“He called me to check your references.” Her blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah. You got the job. Report to the dock. You can’t miss the Cora Ann. Introduce yourself to Voorhees, and he’ll tell you what needs doing.” She stabbed a black nail in my direction. “I expect weekly progress reports. You’ve got a cellphone. I’ve caught you and Amelie texting each other from across the room enough times to know that much. Use it to take pictures. Let me see what I’m paying for, all right?”
“I can do that.” I would have to run it past Neely first, though. I didn’t want to get him in trouble if I caught Voorhees mid-shenanigans. “Thanks for the opportunity.”
“Don’t thank me.” She rolled her unlit cigarette to the other side of her mouth. “Assigning you there won’t cause a staff shortage here if you vanish. That’s the only reason I’m giving you one last chance. Blow this, and you’re done. You’ll never work for me again.”
I reined in the impulse to keep from asking if I might climb the rungs back up to tour-guide status. She had agreed to let me work on the Cora Ann, and that was the closest to full-time employment as I was likely to find with my available hours. Plus, I had to admit, I was more than a little curious about the ghost boy.
The haunting must be an old one, or the papers would have splashed the story of recent tragedy across the pages complete with stomach-churning pics of his parents attempting to cope with his loss and sudden fame. What had riled a stable entity up to poltergeist levels? And could it also be to blame for the disappearance of the B&B ghost? Something hinky was afoot downtown. I might as well investigate while I was there, right?
“I won’t let you down,” I promised, backing toward Jolene.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She spun on her spiky heel and clip-clopped into the building.
“I deserve that,” I mumbled as I mounted my bike and sped toward River Street. Jostling over the cobblestones while my teeth chattered was never my favorite thing, but it was worth it for the prime parking spots usually vacant this time of night.
I found the Cora Ann in the same spot as always, right off Rousakis Riverfront Plaza, her berth easy to spot from the street while shopping the vendors crowding the market. Two other steamboats docked behind her, the rest of Voorhees’s fleet, but the bustle surrounding the Cora Ann told me I was in the right spot.