“I think you can handle yourself. But I’m still responsible for you, and I’d rather not take any chances.”

Somehow, I had the sense it was more than just responsibility, but he didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask because he stopped, glanced left and right before rounding a crumbled tomb and entering into an area where the crypts were mostly broken and leveled into piles of stone and brick.

As I followed him, I softened my steps, sensing the place was sacred.

“I feel like I’m walking off into the past,” I whispered, edging closer to him.

“Yeah, I know. I feel it every time.”

There was an old column lying beside one of the crypts, and Ric reached behind it, emerging with a smooth-sided, opalescent brick. I was wide-eyed with fascination as he tossed it once in his palm, then crossed in front of me to a round platform of stone. Carefully, he balanced the stone on its smallest side atop the platform, then looked over his shoulder and pointed to the bag in my hand.

Instead of handing it to him, I reached inside and took the bottle of rum in one hand, then grabbed the chocolates and let the bag fall away. Crouching, he took them both from me, opening the chocolate and placing it on one side of the brick, then turning the top off of the rum to set it on the other side. Quickly he stood back and stepped away from it.

The air shimmered in waves until a ghostly image appeared. He was a skeletal figure, wearing a top hat and a tuxedo. As I studied him further, I realized he wasn’t really a skeleton, but just so thin that his skin clung tight to his bones. He was gnawing a thick cigar between his teeth, jiggling it around from one side of his lips to the other.

“Reaper Ric, so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” he said.

“It has, Baron Cimitière. We’ve brought gifts.” My companion gestured with a wave of his palm.

The Baron didn’t so much as glance at the rum and chocolates, just continued chewing his stogie. “I see you have the spirit secured there.” He pointed to Ric’s chest where I knew the hourglass was safely stowed in his breast pocket. “But who is this lovely and studious-looking mademoiselle?”

“My companion will be joining me to deliver the reap. Miss Mack is conducting research.”

“Your replacement?”

Ric’s body stiffened, but he smiled. “No, not my replacement. As I said, a researcher.”

Removing the stogie, the Baron grinned wide, then snatched up the bottle of rum and tipped it back.