Chapter 8
“YOU KNOW THAT’S not going to work.”
Nigel’s voice, as always, is measured. I cap the thermos and turn to him.
“I know, but they seem to like it anyway.”
Several ghosts bob and dance opposite me. I don’t know if they can smell the coffee or if it’s simply the idea of it that sets them off. Nigel’s gaze locks on the swirling mass before his eyes clear.
He takes a few steps closer, his boots dragging in the snow. When he’s at my side, he removes his gloves before reaching out and touching the barrier.
“Yes, this is Orson’s work. I recognize it.”
“He planted a ward, too, but I think it was more of a practical joke. I fell for it.”
Literally.
“For all his pretenses, he’s really nothing more than a schoolyard bully on most days.”
“Chief was going to toss him in jail for tres
