Page 12 of Amber Gambler

The gust of air from his name extinguished the fire in my palm, leaving an intact and unharmed leaf with the lingering scent of petrichor. For no good reason, I stuffed it into my pocket, careful not to tear it. The crow on my shoulder watched this, made another raspy noise smacking of laughter, and then took flight before my scowl finished forming.

“Everybody’s a comedian,” I grumbled, leaning into the first of a series of stretches.

The cool night was a balm to my skin, clearing my head and helping me shake off the stress of the day. A heady relief pounded through me every time my feet struck the pavement, as if I was stomping my guilt and worries into dust with every step.

All too soon the cemetery came into view, and I had to force myself to take the usual route. I climbed an ivy-shrouded wrought iron fence, landed in a crouch, then rose and turned on Stoddard Way, which edged the northern end of the property.

A rustle of dead leaves swirled around me, and my heart lodged in my throat. I stopped as the sudden wind died and turned a slow circle. The pulse hammering in my ears deafened me, but the slight blue figure who flung another handful of leaves, aided by a spectral breeze, yanked the plug on my anticipation, allowing me to hear his boisterous laughter at having pranked me.

Tommy, the youngest of the three spirits known as the Buckley Boys, grinned at me through gapped teeth.

Tipping the brim of his 1920s newsboy hat, he announced, “Got a message for ya.”

Unable to help myself, I smiled at his chubby cheeks, smudged with the memory of dirt. “Lay it on me.”

“Morris Lynch done told Johnny he seen this old geezer asking around about a missing girl.”

Ah, yes. Already my lapse in judgment was coming back to bite me on the butt. “And?”

“Lynch didn’t say nothing to the geezer, on account of not knowing him, but he said to Johnny. He said a new girl’s been showing up on La Roche Avenue, near Skidaway River.”

“New?” A shiver trickled down my spine. “You mean…?”

“Figure she drowned.” He wiped his nose with his palm. “Hair’s all wet. Clothes too.”

Nausea swirled in my stomach at his report, but I was grateful for the news. “Tell Johnny I said thanks.”

Hope burning in Tommy’s eyes blurred his soft features with energy. “Will you pay the usual way?”

Payment only came due for me when the boys got bored. The gossip business must be slow this week.

“Absolutely.” I focused on him enough I could ruffle his hair. “Meet me at home in thirty.”

Quick as a blink, he shot off into the ether with ayahooechoing behind him.

For the past two years, I had been teaching the three boys how to read. Johnny’s idea. He felt they could expand their business with mastery of the written word. But no matter how lofty their ambitions, I was a poor teacher, and their short attention spans hadn’t given me much chance to become a better one.

As a result of our mutual frustrations, I ended up reading out loud to them as payment more often than I offered them the lessons they bartered for originally. The compromise suited me fine. Kids deserved the pleasure of enjoying a good book, even if they couldn’t read it for themselves.

Aware it was useful information for Harrow to have, perhaps even critical, I called him. “Hey.”

A beat later, he rasped, “Hey back.”

“I got a tip Leonard Collins is asking around cemeteries about his granddaughter.”

“Does that mean—” he yawned, “—he’s convinced she’s dead?”

“Damn it.” I flinched hearing myself swear out loud. “I woke you.”

Using curse words outside the safety of your head at St. Mary’s Home for Children, where us Marys met, often had lethal consequences. The sisters forbade us from using foul language. Anyone caught speaking it had, on a good day, a fifty-fifty chance of survival. Either they beat you with a jeweled and gilded bible the sisters reserved for holiday services, weighing in at nearly twenty pounds, until you passed out...

…or they ate you.

Which, and I could be wrong, I was pretty sure wasn’t the Christian thing to do.

“You’re fine.” He sanded away his coarseness. “Answer the question.”

“I’m not sure he’s convinced so much as he’s doing everything in his limited power to find her but…”

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