Mortal Ties Read Free Page A

morbid sort of thing to do, isn’t it?” said a gravelly voice. “Hanging out
     at the grave of someone you killed.”
    Lily jolted, then twisted to scowl at the intruder. “Oh, hell. I thought you were
     gone.”
    “Guess you were wrong.” The man standing disrespectfully atop a nearby grave wore
     a dark suit with a wrinkled white shirt and a plain tie. He was on the skinny side
     of lean, with his dark, thinning hair combed straight back from a broad forehead,
     and he was pale. Pale as in white. Also slightly see-through.
    Al Drummond. Her very own personal haunt.

TWO

    W HAT had she ever done to deserve this? Lily ran both hands through her hair. “Go away.”
    “Ah…Lily?” Scott said.
    Scott, of course, hadn’t seen or heard anything, except for her talking to empty air.
     “It’s Drummond, dropping in again for a visit.” Al Drummond, former FBI Special Agent…the
     lying, treacherous bastard who’d been shot by the man Lily had killed last month.
     Scott knew about him.
    The dead might not scare her, but they could be damned annoying. “If you’re here to
     give me more of your pearls of wisdom—”
    “No. At least…” He paused uncertainly. “I don’t think so.”
    Drummond had been many things in life.
Uncertain
wasn’t one of them. The novelty of it interrupted her more thoroughly than his words,
     stirring an unwanted curiosity. “What, then?”
    “I don’t know.” He crossed his arms, scowling. “You think I picked you to fix on?
     You think this is my idea of a great way to spend eternity—popping in to watch you
     brushyour goddamn teeth? What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”
    Lily stood. Whatever she’d hoped for today, it wasn’t happening now. Not with Drummond
     hanging around. “In what way can that be considered any of your business?”
    “Just curious. It makes things easier for me, but somehow I don’t think that’s why
     you came.”
    “What do you mean, it makes it easier for you?”
    “Easier for me to show up. Places like this, the veil is thin.”
    Amusement jabbed at her, half funny and half painful. “I wish Mullins could hear you
     talking about ‘the veil’ like some TV psychic.”
    He snorted. “That would chap his ass, wouldn’t it? You like to hang out at the graves
     of people you’ve killed?”
    “How do you know whose grave this is?”
    “I can read.”
    “And you know who Helen was.”
    “Did you think I didn’t do any digging before I set out to get you?”
    Drummond might have gone spectacularly wrong, but he’d been a good agent before that—savvy,
     smart, and thorough. Of course he knew who Helen was, knew that Lily had killed her.
     God only knew what else he’d dug up about her. “Go away.”
    “Don’t get all huffy. I’ve got a proposition.”
    “Does it involve you leaving me alone?”
    “And where the hell would I go?”
    “How should I know? Obviously you don’t have to hang around me every minute. You were
     gone for over a month.”
    “A month?” That rattled him. “I was…I think I was sleeping. But not the whole time.
     I was at the courthouse with you just now when—”
    She scowled. “I didn’t see you.” Supposedly Drummond couldn’t see or hear the world
     without manifesting, at least to the drifting-white-mist stage.
    “You didn’t look up, and I was…” His mouth kept moving, but all she heard was silence.
     He stopped, scowled,and tried again. Midway through, his mouthed words became speech again. “…show up
     all the way in some places. And talking is goddamn hard, too, so stop interrupting.”
    “You’re not really talking, you know. No movement of air, which is why no one else
     hears you.” It had to be some kind of mindspeech, however much it sounded like regular
     speech to her.
    He snorted. “Like I hadn’t figured that out. Listen, I think I know what I’m supposed
     to do. Why I didn’t just die or go to hell or whatever.” His eyes burned with intensity.