Afraid of the Dark: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Spirits Series Book 1)

by H. P. Mallory

  “Maybe,” he said and then shrugged like he wasn’t convinced. “While I definitely don’t discount things that go bump in the night, I think it’s best to first approach everything with scientific reasoning. If that method fails, then you consider other alternatives, including the unexplainable.”

  “Okay, so that’s a no?” I asked, not meaning to sound so disappointed but I was beginning to think scientific reasoning had betrayed me a long time ago—right about the time I’d accepted the fact that ghosts were real. Now there was no room in my life for the scientific process, not when lightbulbs were randomly exploding overhead.

  “Peyton, power surges happen,” he started.

  “But, you said yourself that they are incredibly rare and it’s even rarer still that a power surge would blow out two lightbulbs!” I railed back at him, getting downright frustrated that he was trying to take the cool, level route when everything that had just happened seemed completely counter to anything rational. And, yes, I was also pretty sure that my frustration wasn’t just owing to the lightbulbs blowing out.

  Ryan crossed his arms against his chest and smiled at me, like I was a little kid afraid of the dark or the Big Bad Wolf. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Nothing,” I answered quickly and realized I was trying to back him into the corner of admitting what I was thinking. Maybe it was just to lend credence to the idea that I wasn’t being completely ridiculous. “It just seems odd to me, that’s all.”

  “And odd things happen.”

  I simply nodded, but that didn’t mean I was buying any of it. I crossed my arms against my chest and regarded him with frustration. “I know.”

  “Peyton,” he started but I shook my head and interrupted him.

  “You’re right, I’m just being silly. Science dictates that a power surge could be responsible.”

  “You realize that I’m not falling for that, right?” He chuckled. “Especially with your arms crossed against your chest and your nose in the air?” He shook his head. “That’s the ticked off Peyton right there . . .”

  “I’m not ticked off!” I railed back at him and suddenly wished I were anywhere but here at the moment. I just felt as if I needed space and time to myself. It was just so difficult to stand here, looking up at him while knowing he didn’t or couldn’t care for me the way I wanted him to. It was almost too much for me to take.

  “Really?” he demanded and leaned against the wall as he studied me, looking incredibly sexy with his rakish smirk and the way his eyes lit up.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m just ... passionate, that’s all.”

  “Yes, you are,” he answered without pause.

  I didn’t know what to make of his answer so I quickly moved onto my next question so I wouldn’t be plagued by the silence in the room. “So we’re going to go with power surge, right?”

  He nodded. “For now. I’m not ruling anything out but that makes the most sense to me.”

  It was my turn to nod. “Okay, then power surge it is.” I definitely didn’t sound convinced.

  He took a few steps toward me and smiled as he glanced at the darkness outside my window. He pulled the linen curtains to the side and was suddenly bathed in moonlight, looking like some ethereal creature. “I think we’ve both had a long night,” he started as he turned to face me again. He dropped the curtain and approached me, wrapping his arm around me as he led me to the door. “You just need to focus on resting and stop thinking about ghosts and goblins.”

  “I’ll think about science,” I answered with a smile that I didn’t really feel.

  He laughed. “I’ll come by first thing tomorrow and I’ll fix the lightbulb issue. I can even stop and pick up a lighting fixture if you trust my taste.”

  “Sure, I trust your tastes,” I answered honestly. I didn’t say anything more as I walked alongside him down the hallway that opened into the foyer. He stopped walking when he reached the front door and turned his body to face mine. He put both of his hands on my shoulders and forced me to look up at him. “Peyton, if you’re scared and you don’t want to stay here alone, you can always come and stay with me. You know that.”

  “I’m not scared,” I said automatically although I didn’t believe myself. I wasn’t even sure why I felt the need to pretend that I wasn’t scared—maybe it was due to the fact that I was trying to convince myself that I believed in power surges and science. But, regardless, there was no way I wanted to be around him any longer. I needed to be alone. “I’ll be fine,” I finished.

  “I had a really wonderful evening with you,” Ryan continued and smiled down at me so sweetly, I felt my stomach begin to turn to mush.

  “I did too,” I answered honestly as I wondered if he would ever be able to move past his grief. The silence echoed between us until it was almost uncomfortable. Ryan cleared his throat and looked decidedly discombobulated as he ran his hand through his hair.

  “About earlier,” he started and then cleared his throat again. “I want you to know . . .”

  “It’s okay, Ryan,” I interrupted. “You don’t owe me any explanations. I understand.”

  “I know I don’t,” he answered. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to know how much you mean to me.”

  “Thanks,” I responded meekly.

  He nodded and dropped his attention to my hand, which he held clasped in his. He glanced up at me again and smiled. “Good night, Peyton,” he said as he opened the door and with a sad smile, closed it behind him.

  ***

  Drake was definitely ticked off. Again.

  As I was beginning to expect, he was pacing back and forth, his hands stuck in the pockets of his police uniform pants. At first he refused to even look at me, let alone speak to me. But after a few minutes whereby I studied my nails distractedly, he cleared his throat and offered me a polished frown. I didn’t say anything but smiled as I sat in one of the club chairs facing the fireplace in “our” bedroom, and simply watched him continue to walk to and from the window. He finally faced me with an air of aggravation.

  “Vous devez prendre cela plus au sérieux!” he yelled at me.

  “Um, excuse me, what?” I asked, reminding him that I couldn’t speak French.

  He huffed out a breath of impatience and then frowned at me. “You need to be entirely more serious about your approach to this matter,” he said at last, his lips tight and his jaw even tighter.

  “So I don’t even get a hello?” I asked with a smile that I wasn’t really feeling. Apparently in dreamland, I was still pretty depressed about the whole Ryan situation.

  But Drake wasn’t having any of it. He simply frowned and cocked a brow as if to show me how irritated he was. “Bonjour,” he managed at last—merely grumbling the word beneath his breath.

  “Well you definitely didn’t have me at hello!” I said in response, knowing the joke would be lost on him but not caring. His eyebrows met in the middle but he didn’t bother asking me what I was talking about. Instead, he started pacing again, shaking his head like I was one big, royal screwup.

  “Je ne comprends pas. I do not understand, ma minette,” he said at last as he turned on his heel and faced me. “Why do you not believe me when I tell you that this matter is a severe one?”

  “What matter?” I asked, even though I knew what he was talking about. Even so, there was something within me that enjoyed ruffling Drake’s feathers.

  “The matter of ensuring the safety of our home!” he railed back at me as he started another lap across the bedroom. The heels of his shoes tapped against the hardwood floors and the swish of his pant legs rubbing against one another was somehow relaxing, made me want to drift into a much more effortless sleep. “Ma minette!” he reprimanded me when it appeared I was doing just that. “Stay with me!”

  I shook myself back into awareness and then tried to focus on the conversation. It was difficult though because I was suddenly exhausted. I had to wonder if, even though I was asleep, if whatever sleep this
was wasn’t very restful for my body. I couldn’t imagine it was because every time I woke up from one of Drake’s dream visits, I never felt restored. “So I guess Trina’s cleansing didn’t work?” I asked, frowning as I realized my suspicions had been right on.

  “Non, il ne marchait pas! No, the cleansing didn’t work!” Drake yelled and, throwing his hands in the air, marched back toward the bank of windows again. He turned on his heel and glared at me. “Banishing the energy of something this grandiose requires the aid of a skillful and experienced practitioner. All you managed to do was goad it with your silly candles and your imitation sorcery!”

  “Well excuse the hell out of me!” I yelled back at him, finally having had enough of his foul mood. “You told me to cleanse the house and that’s what I did!”

  He shook his head and then held his forehead in his hands like he had a headache—something which I imagined was impossible considering he was dead. “Perhaps I was not explicit enough in my instructions,” he said underneath his breath as he shook his head again. “Je ne sais pas. I don’t know.”

  “So if the cleansing didn’t work, what’s the answer then?” I demanded, feeling incredibly frustrated and defensive all at the same time.

  “The answer is that you find a voodoo priestess who knows what she is doing!” he bellowed at me, his eyes about bugging out of his head. “And you must do so promptly!”

  “I’ll do the best I can!” I yelled back although I thought I’d already done the best I could and look where that had gotten me ... Nowhere. Now I was fresh out of ideas.

  Drake walked over to the club chair beside mine and collapsed into it, settling his feet on the coffee table as he exhaled heavily. “I can feel the presence growing stronger day by day and my own hold on this property dwindles.” He glanced over at me and his eyes seemed heavier somehow, more weighted and serious.

  The idea that whatever this thing was was growing stronger sunk into my stomach like a sack of rocks and I gulped down a sudden rising fear. “So this thing is centered here? In my, er, our house?”

  Drake nodded and gritted his teeth. “Oui, and it is powerful enough that it is usurping my hold.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand,” I said and shook my head as if to prove it. I sat up straight and moved my legs to the side so I could face him fully. “Usurping your hold?” I repeated. “I don’t know what that means. You have control over this house?”

  He nodded again and stood up, pausing momentarily at the fireplace mantel before he shoved his hands back into his pockets and started pacing. When he reached the windows, he turned back toward me. “As this house belonged to me in life, my power is strongest here.”

  “Okay, so what does that mean exactly?”

  He swallowed then pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them against his chest. “Other entities cannot exert their control over this property as my power is too great.”

  “Why would another entity want to exert control over this house?” I asked, frowning.

  “There are spirits who are vagabonds, who are not tethered to any one place. They simply move from location to location, searching for a place to anchor themselves. They would certainly think well of this property and were it not for my authority here, you would find yourself entertaining more spirits than you would care to!”

  I didn’t have much time to consider the fact that Drake had some sort of control or authority over the house because I was more concerned with the fact that whatever this entity was, it was able to threaten that power. “But, this being is able to exert its control over you?” I asked, just to make sure I was following along accurately.

  “Oui!” he responded in such a way that I could tell he was getting frustrated with my questions. “It is powerful, hence, I can feel my own strength fading,” he finished as he stopped walking and exhaled deeply. He leaned against the wall and stared out the window, taking in a view that had long since faded with time.

  “What will happen if it continues to grow stronger and your power continues to grow weaker?” I asked, afraid for his answer.

  He shook his head. “Je ne veux pas l’apprendre. I do not wish to find out.” He glared at me again. “That is why it is your responsibility to see to it that this is nipped in the bud now!”

  “But, I don’t know any professional voodoo priestesses!” I cried as I stood up and thrust my hands on my hips. I’d had enough of his bad mood mixed with the impending sense of doom that seemed to have cast itself over our heads.

  “Then find one,” Drake replied indifferently.

  “That’s easier said than done!” I railed back at him. “I already tried to find one and ended up with a ritual bag from the House Of Voodoo! Clearly, I have no idea where to even begin looking!”

  But the severe expression on Drake’s face didn’t change. Clearly he wasn’t interested in excuses. He cocked a brow at me and shook his head. “If you want to find one badly enough, you will.”

  I frowned but figured arguing with him was useless. Maybe the yellow pages listed advanced voodoo priestesses because if not, I had no clue where to even start in my search. But that was a thought for later on. Right now I had to understand what Drake meant when he said his power was fading, that this thing, whatever it was, was somehow exerting itself where it should not have been able to. “So what does this thing, this entity, want?” I asked, my tone of voice now calm.

  Drake shook his head. “I don’t even know what it is. It’s not something I can see. I can simply feel the drain on my power which is the only reason I know there is malevolent energy within this house.”

  I nodded but didn’t really know what to make of what he was saying. I glanced up at him when something occurred to me. “The lightbulbs in the bathroom just randomly exploded earlier,” I started. “Do you think that had anything to do . . .”

  But Drake shook his head, the expression on his face difficult to read. “No, ma minette, ca n’était pas l’entité. That was not the entity.”

  It was my turn to shake my head and I could already feel my temper growing when I considered what the alternative might be. “I know it wasn’t a power surge!” I protested. “So don’t think for even one minute that I’m going to buy that answer!”

  He frowned. “That was the answer given to you by the barbarian.”

  I almost smiled at the resurgence of Ryan’s new nickname but was struck dumb when something occurred to me. “Wait, were the exploding lightbulbs ... you?”

  Drake cleared his throat but didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked decidedly guilty. I stood up and marched over to him. “Okay, Drake, you better have a very good reason as to why the hell you blew up my lightbulbs and in the process, scared the hell out of me!” He didn’t say anything for a few seconds but just continued to scowl at me. “Well?” I demanded.

  “I didn’t like watching him kiss you,” he answered defensively, his chin jutted out, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed against his chest.

  “You were jealous?!” I roared at him, throwing my hands on my hips. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

  “Pourquoi? Why?” he insisted. “This is my house and I do not appreciate you inviting random men over and then indulging in acts of fornication!”

  “Kissing is hardly fornication! You’re so dramatic!” I snarled at him.

  “Well, I didn’t enjoy playing witness to it all the same,” he answered defiantly. “And, in the wake of whatever this malevolence is, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with that man. You should be focused on finding a way to stop this entity!” He shook his head and then ran his hand over his forehead as if he were feeling ill. “Vous allez me conduire à la folie!” he grumbled. “You will drive me to madness!” I decided to ignore the fact that I was, apparently, having a serious effect on his sanity. “I am focused on finding a way to stop it!” I screamed at him. “And not that it matters, but I guess you didn’t stick around for the aftermath of our kiss?”

  He
frowned at me. “I decided I had seen quite enough!”

  “Well, if you’d stayed true to your nosy self, you would have stuck around to watch him pull away from me because he still isn’t over his grief of losing his wife!”

  “Humph,” Drake said, jutting his chin out. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled again, looking suddenly exhausted.

  “Drake?” I asked as worry began to gnaw at my insides. “Are you okay?”

  He exhaled again and waved away my concern. “I am fine.”

  But I didn’t believe him. Especially not after learning that this entity was making him weaker. I took a few steps closer to him but didn’t say anything as he watched me. Instead, I studied him, looking for signs that he wasn’t as “fine” as he’d just insinuated. I found the proof I was looking for in his eyes. They were just a bit duller, less lively than usual. “You’re not fine,” I said in a small voice as I took his hand and watched the surprise register in his eyes. I suddenly felt guilty—guilty that he was surprised when I acted caringly toward him. “I care about you, Drake,” I said softly as I squeezed his hand in mine. Even though he was just a spirit, he felt so whole, so real.

  He didn’t break his gaze from mine. “I care about you, ma minette.”

  I could tell he wanted to kiss me—the look was there in his eyes. And, who knew, maybe if Ryan weren’t in the picture, I would have succumbed to the idea of making out with a ghost. But as it was, I was still pretty heartbroken about Ryan so kissing Drake was the last thought in my head. Instead, I dropped his hand and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly as I inhaled his clean but spicy scent. He hesitated only momentarily before clasping his arms around me.

  “Vous ne comprenez pas à quel point je tiens à toi,” he whispered into my hair as he rubbed my back up and down. It wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t translate his sentence so I figured it was something he preferred to keep to himself.