Page 30 of From the Ashes
"I suspect so. She turns into a…creature."
"Did she tell you this? Or her husband?"
"I overheard them talking and became suspicious enough to investigate. I climbed in through her bedroom window and watched her sleeping."
My fingers curled into the leather armrest. "I see."
"She was covered in fur and resembled a wolf, of sorts. Her heightened senses allowed her to hear and smell me. She attacked, stopping only when she recognized me. We talked and she told me that she was born with the ability to change at will between her human form and this other, but she's mostly the other creature during sleep. Her husband discovered this fact last summer." Around the time Lincoln kidnapped me because of my necromancy. It was soon after that the killings began.
I let the armrest go. Small half-circles from my fingernails dented the brown leather. "You said you don't consider him to be a suspect. Why not?"
"His wife disgusts him, yet he hasn't killed her."
"She can't bring the dead back to life though, or in any way reanimate body parts or raise spirits. If he's only killing those types of supernaturals, then he might still be the murderer."
Lincoln nodded and I suspected he had kept that fact in mind, but still didn't think Gillingham was the murderer.
Gus snorted. "He hates his wife."
"He's terrified of her," Seth added. "He doesn't like to be near her. He doesn't want their children tainted."
"Some people would consider a supernatural trait to be an enhancement," I said huffily.
"Not Gillingham." Seth sat back, crossed his legs, and flashed his white teeth in a smile. "That's why there's no fear that he'll want to marry you, if his own marriage ends. My apologies if that disappoints you, Charlie."
I rolled my eyes, catching Lincoln once again watching me intently. "I'll cope with the disappointment."
"I still reckon Gilly's guilty," Gus said. "I don't like him."
"If we killed everyone we didn't like, there'd be no one left on the committee," Seth said.
"I weren't talkin' about killin' him."
"How naive you are."
"No one will kill anyone without good reason," Lincoln cut in. "Not even Gillingham, if he proves guilty."
"Spoil sport."
It would seem there was only one option available to us then. Raise the spirit of Thomas Rampling. At least now I knew why Lincoln had fetched me back. He did need me, but not for his own happiness. He needed me to use my necromancy, just like he'd needed me in the beginning of our acquaintance. I wasn't surprised. Lincoln had very few needs for himself, either emotional or physical.
I may not have been surprised, but disappointment pierced my chest like a needle.
"Does Rampling have a middle name?" I asked.
"James." Lincoln once again shifted his stance, this time drawing a little closer. "Charlie, if you don't want to do it, you don't have to."
"Of course I want to," I snapped. "It's what I'm here for, isn't it?"
Seth and Gus looked to Lincoln. He shook his head, but said nothing. I blew out a breath and began. "Thomas James Rampling, I summon you here to me. Thomas James Rampling, please come to me in spirit form for…a conversation."
White mist coalesced in the corner of the library in the form of a man. Like a charcoal sketch, he didn't look real or alive, but he did nevertheless have form that drifted through the room toward me. His face was bloated from his drowning, and I found it difficult to look at him. After surveying his surroundings, taking in each of the men in turn, he settled near Lincoln on the other side of the enormous mantelpiece.
"Mr. Thomas Rampling?" I asked.
"Who're you?"
"My name is Charlie. I've summoned you here to ask you some questions."
