"She gave a sign of her presence," Bones replied, his lips twitching.

"Normally it takes longer for one to appear and interact with us," Tyler said, sounding bemused. His gaze slid to me. "You must be the wild card."

If he only knew. "Okay, well, now what?"

Tyler replied, but it was drowned out by Beth Ann's loud, indignant response. "If you presume I will do anything for a group of disgusting ruffians such as yourselves-"

"Shh," I told her, trying to make out what Tyler was saying.

She quieted instantly, her eyes widening in shock. Damn, I'd just taken away her ability to speak. Guess shushing her was the same as giving her an order to be silent.

"-that the door's open, we can attempt to summon your witch hunter," Tyler finished.

"So Beth Ann doesn't need to stay?" I asked, feeling guilty as her mouth opened and closed in a series of futile attempts to talk.

"No. I'll send her away-"

"You can speak again, and feel free to go back to where you were before," I told her with an apologetic wave.

The ghost vanished after snarling out a sentence that raised my brows. Well. She'd certainly learned some colorful phrases in her time.

"Prim-looking ladies always were the dirtiest," Bones commented, chuckling at my expression.

Considering his former occupation, he should know. I shook my head, answering, "Yep" to Tyler's question if the ghost was gone.

"All right, let's try for the main event." Tyler sounded enthused. "Keep touching the planchette, Cat."

I put my fingertips on the device again, feeling the pulsating throb that came from it. Maybe that was why it was shaped like a heart. Symbolism for what it felt like when it was properly activated.

"What's the witch hunter's name again?" Tyler asked.

"Heinrich Kramer."

"Heinriiich Kraaaaaaaaamer," Tyler drew out in dramatic fashion. He even lolled his head back and closed his eyes. "We summon you into our presence. Heed our call, Heinrich Kramer. Come to us now. We summon through the veil the spirit of Heinrich Kramer-"

Dexter let out a sharp noise that was part whine, part bark. Tyler quit speaking. I tensed, feeling the grate of invisible icicles across my skin again. Bones's gaze narrowed at a point over my right shoulder. Slowly, I turned my head in that direction.

All I saw was a swirl of darkness before the Ouija board flew across the room-and the point of the little wooden planchette buried in Tyler's throat.

Chapter Seven

I sprang up and tried to grab Tyler, only to be knocked backward like I'd been hit with a sledgehammer. Stunned, it took me a second to register that I was pinned to the wall by the desk, that dark cloud on the other side of it.

The ghost had successfully managed to use the desk as a weapon against me. If it hadn't been still jabbed in my stomach, I wouldn't even have believed it.

Bones threw the desk aside before I could, flinging it so hard that it split down the center when it hit the other wall. Dexter barked and jumped around, trying to bite the charcoal-colored cloud that was forming into the shape of a tall man. Tyler made a horrible gurgling noise, clutching his throat. Blood leaked out between his fingers.

"Bones, fix him. I'll deal with this ass**le."

Dexter's barks drowned out the sounds Tyler made as Bones slashed his palm with his fangs, then slapped it over Tyler's mouth, ripping out the planchette at the same time.

Pieces of the desk suddenly became missiles that pelted the three of us. Bones spun around to take their brunt, shielding Tyler, while I jumped to cover the dog. A pained yelp let me know at least one had nailed Dexter before I got to him. Tyler's gurgles became wrenching coughs.

"Boy, did you make a colossal f**king mistake," I snarled, grabbing a piece of the ruined desk. Then I stood up, still blocking the dog from any more objects the ghost could lob at him. He'd materialized enough for me to see white hair swirling around a craggy, wrinkled face. The ghost hadn't been young when he died, but the shoulders underneath his dark tunic weren't bowed from age. They were squared in arrogance, and the green eyes boring into mine held nothing but contempt.

"Hure," the ghost muttered before thrusting his hand into my neck and squeezing like he was about to choke me. I felt a stronger than normal pins-and-needles sensation but didn't flinch. If this schmuck thought to terrify me with a cheap parlor trick like that, wait until he saw my first abracadabra.

"Heinrich Kramer?" I asked almost as an afterthought. Didn't matter if it wasn't him, he would regret what he did, but I wanted to know whose ass I was about to kick.

"Address me as Inquisitor," the ghost replied in a heavy accent. At least he spoke English; I didn't know a word of German.

I smiled nastily. "You know that witchcraft you pretended to try and stamp out when you were alive? I've got it running all through my veins." Then I sliced open my wrist with the ragged edge of a piece of desk, blood dripping in slow plops before the wound healed.

If I wanted to summon a legion of regular ghosts to my side, I'd shed tears, but blood, combined with my inner roar of come and get him, boys! was shed to summon a different kind of spectre, all courtesy of my borrowed abilities from New Orleans' most famous voodoo queen. Cold, seething power streaked through my body, electrifying my nerves and filling the room with an abundance of supernatural energy. The ghost could feel it, too, I could tell. A frown replaced the sneer on his face. Dexter squeaked and limped out of the room.

In the next instant, shadows sprang up from the floor, flinging themselves upon the ghost with all of the hunger that the grave held within it. It wasn't her expertise with spells or potions that made vampires and ghouls alike fear Marie Laveau. It was her ability to call forth Remnants and bend them to her will, just like I was doing now. As one, the Remnants began to rip through the ghost's body, eliciting a howl from Kramer that I savored like candy. Remnants fed on pain, and it sounded like the Inquisitor was serving up a banquet. I didn't know if they could kill the ghost, Kramer lacking the flesh that they could eventually explode, but I was willing to let them do their best to find out.

My wishful thinking was short-lived, however. Just as abruptly as Kramer appeared, he vanished, leaving the Remnants twining their diaphanous, deadly forms through nothing more substantial than air.

"Come back here!" I yelled.

Nothing stirred except the dozens of Remnants who turned toward me with hazy expressions that all seemed to be asking the same question.

Now what?

Damned if I knew. "Go get him!" I tried, but they only swayed like reeds in a strong wind while their bodies stayed anchored in the demolished room.