teachings aside for cold, hard practicality. Alex was alive. The Dubois c

de sense now. They weren' t just watching a ritual; they

ake him up

skin. The faint scent of his cologne, a scent I hadn'

rgent and low. "Alex, wake up.

ose was probably meant to keep him unconscious until the "grief counselor" finis

a sound. My bag. I fumbled inside, my fingers bypassing the incense and oils,

a concoction of my grandmother' s that could wake the n

de with confusion and fear. He tried to

hand over his

his. "They' re listening. They think you' re

tared into mine. The confusion slowly cleared, replaced by

removed

voice raspy from the drug

ed to play dead. Can you do that? Can you

lready working, catching up. He sank back against the pillows, his breathing becoming shall

couldn' t just walk out of there. They' d go in to "

s were sealed. The door was my only o

faint scraping sound at t

t my ribs. They were com

ered to Alex. "Don' t move

rom the bed, positioning myself so I' d be the first thing they saw whe

stood in the doorway, that preda

" he asked, his voice oozing fa

I gestured vaguely at the bed. "The spirit is... resistant. As

on that Alex was dead and his ghost was being difficult. Only I

ed and back again. He didn' t believe me. He was here to check,

interruptions. Your presence is con

he intimidating presence she used on unruly clients and

on turning into certainty. He was a man used to

king a step into the room. "My wife is t

bluff. He knew s

ng. My eyes fell on the heavy brass censer on the bedside tabl

o a low threat. "You don' t want to see wha

led. "Oh, I

ew the performance was over. T

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