That really caused me to color at the visual that skipped across my subconscious. Seeing it, he ran an aggravated hand through his hair.

“Now, that’s another thing you have to stop doing. You turn red as a sunset at the slightest hint of innuendo. You need to be playing the part of an aggressive, horny woman! No bloke’s going to believe that when he says boo and you faint from embarrassment. Your virginity’s going to get you killed.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I countered, and then nearly did faint as predicted.

His dark brows went up. I turned away, sputtering, “Can we change the subject, please? We’re not girlfriends at a slumber party. I don’t want to be discussing this with you.”

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, ignoring my plea. “Kitten’s catted around, has she? The way you act, I’m surprised. Chap waiting patiently for you to finish your training? Must be quite a lad, to get you all hot and bothered. Again, didn’t peg you for the experienced type, but then again, you did offer me a taste when we first met. Makes me wonder now if you planned on staking me before or after you got your itch scratched. What about the other vampires? Did they die with a smile on their-”

I slapped him. Or tried to. He caught my wrist and held it, and caught the other one when I whipped my left palm toward his cheek.

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, I’ve heard enough of that crap growing up. Just because my mother had me out of wedlock, our stupid old-fashioned neighbors thought that made her a slut, and me, too, by default. And not that it’s any of your business, since you’ve probably raped villages full of women, but I’ve only been with one person. He dropped me like a bad habit right afterwards, so that was enough to cure me of any desire I had to duplicate the sexual escapades of my peers. Now, I mean it, I don’t want to talk about this again!”

I was panting in pent-up fury over the wound he’d unknowingly ripped open. Bones released my wrists, and I rubbed them where his fingers had dug into my skin.

“Kitten,” he began in a conciliatory tone, “I apologize. But just because your ignorant neighbors took their prejudice out on you, or some pimply-faced teenager pulled a one-nighter-”

“Stop it,” I interrupted, terrified I was going to cry. “Just stop it. I can do the job, I can fake sexy, whatever. But we are not discussing this.”

“Look, luv-” he tried again.

“Bite me,” I snapped, and walked off.

For once, he didn’t offer to take me up on the invitation, and he didn’t follow me.

At the start of the fourth week, Bones announced we were taking a field trip. Of course, it wasn’t an afternoon jaunt to the local museum. No, he had me driving along a narrow road at midnight with no idea where we were headed. He’d given me the barest direction-turn here, turn there, etc.-and I was nervous. We were in a very rural area, no streetlights along the road. If you wanted to suck someone’s neck dry and then dump the body, this would be an ideal place.

Then again, if he’d wanted to suck my neck dry and dump my body, the cave was a pretty ideal place as well. Considering all the times I’d been unconscious after our training bouts, he could have dined on me before if he’d wanted to. I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Hell, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him when I was awake. I had yet to win a single round between us, to my dismay. Bones was so damned strong and fast, fighting against him was like trying to put a leash on a lightning bolt.

“Turn left here,” Bones said, jarring me from my thoughts.

I read the name on the sign. Peach Tree Road. It didn’t look like it led anywhere.

“You know, partner,” I said as I made the turn, “you’re being very secretive. When are you going to tell me what this field trip is about? I take it you didn’t just get a sudden urge to go cow tipping.”

He snorted. “No, can’t say that I did. I need some information from a man who lives out here.”

The way he said it made it sound like the person wouldn’t be happy to see him. “Look, I refuse to be a part of killing any humans, so if you think you’re going to interrogate this guy and then bury him, you’re wrong.”

I expected Bones to challenge me or get angry, but he started to laugh.

“I’m serious!” I said, stomping on the brakes for emphasis.

“You’ll get the joke soon enough, luv,” he replied. “But let me set your mind at ease. For one, I promise not to lay a single hand on the fellow, and for another, you’ll be the one talking to him.”

That surprised me. I didn’t even know who the guy was, let alone what questions to ask.

An eyebrow arched at me. “Will we be driving again anytime soon?”

Oh. I let off the brake and hit the gas, jolting the truck forward. “Do I get any more details than that? Like, some background on him and what you want to know?”

“Of course. Winston Gallagher was a railway worker back in the sixties. He also had a side business of making moonshine. One day, a fellow bought one of Winston’s products and then was found dead with it the next day. Winston might have mistaken the alcohol content for that batch, or the sot drank too much. Either way, it all ended the same. Winston was found guilty of murder and condemned to die.”

“That’s outrageous!” I exclaimed. “With no motive or proof of malice aforethought?”

“’Fraid the judge, John Simms, wasn’t big on the idea of innocent until proven guilty. He also doubled as the executioner. Right before Simms hanged him, however, Winston swore he’d never let him have another night’s peace. And since that day, he never has.”

“He hung him?” I repeated. “The man you want me to speak to?”

“Pull over at that no trespassing sign, Kitten,” Bones directed. I did, my mouth still open in disbelief. “Winston won’t speak to me, since our kinds don’t get along. He’ll talk to you, though. But I warn you, he’s about as cheerful as you currently are.”

“What part of this am I not understanding?” My tone was waspish. Bitchy, me? “Did you or did you not say that judge hanged him?”

“Swung him right from the tree jutting over that cliff,” Bones affirmed. “If you look, you can still see rope marks in it. A good many people lost their lives on that wood, but don’t bother speaking to any one of them. They’re residual. Winston’s not.”

I picked my words carefully. “Are you telling me Winston’s…a ghost?”

“Ghost, specter, phantom, take your pick. What’s most important is he’s sentient, and that’s rare. Most spooks are only replays of their former selves. Not able to interact, just doing the same thing over and over, like a record stuck on a turntable. Blimey, I’m dating myself; no one uses records anymore. Point is, Winston was so mad when he died, part of his consciousness stayed on. It’s also due to location. Ohio has a thinner membrane for separating the natural from the supernatural, so it’s easier for a soul to stay behind instead of crossing over. This particular area’s like a homing beacon. Five cemeteries forming a pentagram-really, what were they thinking? It’s a road map for spirits, is what it is. Thanks to your bloodline, you should be able to see them, whereas most humans can’t. You should also be able to feel them by now. Their energy’s like a voltage in the air.”

He was right. I’d felt an invisible hum as soon as I’d turned onto this road, but I thought maybe my leg had fallen asleep or something.

“What kind of information could a vampire possibly want from a ghost?”

“Names,” Bones said succinctly. “I want Winston to give you the names of any young girls that have recently died around these parts. Don’t let him tell you he doesn’t know, either-and I’m only interested in deaths by unnatural causes. No car accidents or diseases.”

He didn’t look like he was kidding, but I had to ask. “Is this some kind of a joke?”