He opened his mouth, as if to argue, then snapped it shut, and told Jaime he’d be right there.

Waking the Dead

SINCE WE’D MISSED DINNER AND IT LOOKED AS IF WE weren’t going back to bed any time soon, Lucas went to get us something to eat. He was gone before I finished dressing. A quick hair-brushing and face wash and I was presentable, but nothing more. When I saw Jaime pacing the living-area carpet, my first thought was “Geez, she looks almost as bad as I do.”

Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, no makeup, Jaime was hardly the picture of showbiz celebrity. Though I’d originally guessed her age at late thirties, Lucas said she’d passed forty a couple of years ago. Today, she looked it. Maybe this dressing-down was intentional, a disguise to avoid recognition…although she hadn’t struck me as the type who would try to avoid recognition.

I walked into the room, trying not to stagger.

“Jesus, are you okay?” she said.

She hurried to help me, but I waved her back.

“Of course you’re not okay,” she continued. “I heard what happened in California. I should have thought—I can talk to Lucas if you want to go back to sleep.”

“I’m fine.” I considered the sofa, but the recliner seemed as if it would offer more support. “So you heard about the trial?”

Jaime hovered until I was seated, then dropped onto the sofa. “Cabal gossip flies faster than a spooked spirit. I asked the guy who took my deposition to call me when a verdict came in, but I still haven’t heard from him. Probably never will. I’m necromancer non grata with the Cabals.”

“Really? With your grandmother, you should be prime recruitment material and, God knows, they hate to offend anyone they can use.”

Jaime twisted her rings. “Well, I’m not quite the necro my nan was. And, of course, my high profile doesn’t sit well with the Cabals. When I started hitting the big time, they wanted me to shut up and shut down. Lucas helped me with that. They leave me alone now.”

The door lock clicked. Lucas pushed the door open with his foot, both hands occupied with a tray of food. Jaime watched him struggle for a moment, then jumped up and went over to help.

“Mmm, that smells great,” I said. “Soup?”

“Seafood chowder. Not quite the caliber you’re accustomed to, but it was this or split-pea.”

“Good choice.” I picked up a crystal glass of ruby red liquid. “Wine?”

“Not when you’re taking these,” he said, plunking my medication bottle on the tray. “It’s cranberry juice. Dessert is crème brûlée—a more appetizing alternative to pudding.”

I grinned up at him. “You’re the best.”

“No shit,” Jaime said. “Last time I was sick, the guy I was seeing brought me a bottle of ginger ale…and expected me to pay him back for it.”

Lucas took amug and a second crème brûlée from my tray and laid them in front of Jaime. “If you’d prefer something else, the kitchen is open for a few more minutes.” He placed cream and sugar containers beside the coffee. “And, no, you don’t have to pay me back for it.”

“I am definitely dating the wrong guys.”

Lucas started unwrapping his sandwich, then paused. “Should we eat on the road?”

“Ten minutes isn’t going to make a difference. Eat your sandwich, then we’ll go.”

“Go where?” Jaime said.

I explained the evidence against Weber, and how we were certain he’d obtained those lists for the killer. “The only way we’re going to find out who wanted those lists is to talk to Weber. So you can help us by doing that, if that’s okay.”

“Well, umm, sure. Anything I can do. I thought we’d start by contacting Dana again but, well, I guess contacting this Weber guy makes more sense. We know where he’s buried, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure they haven’t buried him yet,” I said.

“They have,” Lucas said. “Cabal policy. They inter their dead immediately.”

Jaime nodded. “Otherwise, it’s like propping open the door to Tiffany’s and going home for the night.”

Lucas caught my confused look. “Supernatural remains are considered extremely valuable necromantic relics.”

“Yep,” Jaime said. “Other people go to the black market for DVDs and diamonds. Us necros get to buy decomposing body parts. Another reason why I give thanks every day for this incredible gift I’ve been given.” She scraped the last bit of custard from the ramekin and licked the spoon. “Okay, this wasn’t quite what I had inmind for my evening, but let’s do it. Time to wake the recently deceased.”

Jaime had just finished her final Orlando show when she heard the news about Weber. She’d then rented a car for the two-hundred-mile trip to Miami, so we now had a vehicle. Lucas drove because he was the only one who knew where to find the cemetery. But, as I soon discovered, that wasn’t the only reason. When we hit the outskirts of Miami, Jaime put on a sleeping mask. At first, I thought she was taking a catnap. Then I realized that allowing a necromancer to know where the Cabal buried their dead would be a serious security breach. Not that I could imagine Jaime skulking around a moonlit cemetery with a shovel, but I gave her bonus points for blindfolding herself rather than put Lucas in an awkward position.

The Cabal didn’t bury their dead in a municipal cemetery…or any recognizable cemetery at all. Lucas drove past the city limits, then made so many turns that I was lost even without a blindfold. Finally he pulled off the road and headed down a thin strip of land flanked on both sides by swamp. A mile later, the road ended. I squinted out the window.