The Ghost Hunter

by Lori Brighton

  She made her way down the steps and into the kitchen, feeling uneasy and morose. She didn’t want Devon to go back to being a ghost. She liked him here. As pathetic as it was, she liked her ghosts here as well. At least with them, she knew what to expect. With humans, one never knew. Funny how just a year ago she was trying to avoid spirits.

  She set the tray and bowl in the sink then stared hard at the basement door. She hadn’t been down there since her last nightmare, but Maggie was the only being, living and non, she could openly talk to.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  She pulled open the door and moved carefully down the steps. Immediately her gaze jumped to that far corner where the door stood, still intact. There was no hole in the panel. There was no red fire. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. The nightmare had been so damn real. The red light. That demonic voice. And her body…slamming painfully through the wooden door.

  “We didn’t find her,” Maggie’s soft voice was barely audible.

  Ashley spun around. The child sat there in her corner, glowing softer, it seemed. For a brief moment Ashley wondered if they could dim themselves like a light. She started toward her, her footsteps thumping eerily against the stone floor. “We will.”

  Maggie’s lower lip quivered as she shook her head, those golden curls shimmering. “No. Bill’s gone. Rachel’s gone. Samuel as well, and now Devon is different.”

  She paused, surprised. “You know about Devon?”

  Maggie nodded. “I can’t sense him anymore but I saw him in your room, sleeping.”

  Maggie was alone now. Ashley knew exactly how the child felt. She pushed aside the compassion that surged forth, refusing to allow her emotions to get in the way. She needed answers about Cristian and Devon and most importantly, she needed answers about Dad.

  “Maggie, I need to know about my father. I need to know if you saw him here, what he did, where he was, who was with him. Anything.”

  The child frowned, her golden brows drawing together. “Your Papa?”

  Ashley knelt in front of her and nodded. “Come on, Maggie. Any information could help me find Rachel.”

  Maggie dropped her gaze to the floor and remained stubbornly silent.

  This was so not good. Her frustration mounting, Ashley rubbed her temples. Devon had been a dead-end, no pun intended, and now Maggie? “Come on, Maggie, you’re killing me.”

  Still, the child said nothing. Ashley stood and made her way toward the steps. She would find no help here. An odd numbness had settled through her body.

  “Please,” Maggie cried. “Don’t trust that man.”

  Man? The word pierced Ashley’s foggy reality. Unwillingly, she paused, her fingers wrapped around the railing so tight, her knuckles turned white.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “That man with the black hair and the sword. He sent them back.” Maggie choked on a sob. “He sent them back and he’ll send me if you don’t stop him.”

  Chapter 18

  Cristian felt the shift in the atmosphere before the pub even came into view. He pulled his motorcycle to a stop and cutting the engine, glanced up at the building. Night was fading fast, yet he was in no hurry to enter. Something had changed dramatically, and not for the good.

  What was the little Seer up to now? He made his way to the front door, boots crunching over gravel, his senses on alert. He was fully aware of the curtain from Ashley’s room twitching, as if someone above watched. Ashley, Camile, or a ghost? He knew Camile was here, Rose had sent her niece, although she didn’t realize she was a pawn in this ridiculous situation. At this distance it was hard to identify the spy.

  He pushed open the door and found Ashley sitting upon the steps, watching him. One didn’t live for hundreds of years and not know that look. She was a woman determined. She wanted to talk. Slowly, he closed the door.

  “Who are you? What are you?” she burst out.

  “I’m good, thanks for asking.” He started toward the kitchen, knowing he couldn’t avoid her questions, but sure as hell trying.

  She jumped from the stairs and shoved her way between him and the hall. “No more half-truths. No more lies.”

  He laughed. “Ye’ll accuse me of lying? Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect ye. Yer the one keeping secrets.”

  “I don’t need protecting!”

  He shook his head. “Really? Playing with magic ye don’t understand. Ye haven’t a clue what ye are, what ye’re capable of.”

  “And you do?” Her face was flushed. “You know me so well?”

  “Aye, I do.” He stepped closer to her, anger and frustration spurring him forward. She stepped back, directly into the wall. “I know you can see things that would make most quiver in fear. I know yer father left ye when ye were just a wee child. Yer mother put ye in a mental ward. I know ye hate the fact that ye can see spirits, yet yer determined to understand yer powers, even if it means placing yerself in a situation you just might not live through.”

  She shook her head, her face pale. “How?”

  Damn her. He couldn’t take it anymore. He could no longer resist his human emotions. He could no longer resist her. He cupped the sides of her face. “I know ye get a little crease between yer brows when yer thinking. I know even though ye curse those damn ghosts, ye’d still protect them with yer own life. I know yer stubborn, but yer heart is full.”

  “You don’t…” she whispered, dropping her gaze to his lips. “You don’t know me.”

  He lowered his head, his lips close to hers. “I do.”

  “Get away from her,” a familiar voice growled from above.

  A voice he sure as hell had never expected to hear again. A voice he shouldn’t be hearing now. For one long moment, shock held Cristian immobile. Either his powers had changed and he suddenly had the ability to hear ghosts, or Ashley had done something incredibly stupid.

  Cristian’s eyes narrowed into mere slits as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. Slowly he looked up at Devon. For one moment he thought he’d imagined the man. But no, his imagination wasn’t this demented. He released his hold. Ashley moved out of reach, headed toward the steps and Devon. The fact that she left him, for the former ghost stung.

  “Well, well.” Cristian smirked, hiding his surprise well. “Come tae rescue the damsel in distress? Death hasn’t changed you a fucking bit.”

  And he meant it. The right side of Devon’s jaw pulsed, a familiar tic, one he’d had centuries ago and death apparently hadn’t cured him of the affliction. The man had the same habits, same warrior stance. The only thing different were the clothes he wore, an oddly familiar set of shorts and t-shirt.

  The former ghost shifted. Devon’s face was pale, but he held that silver sword in his hands like a man who knew exactly what to do. A sword he’d taken from Cristian’s room. Still, even Cristian could tell he was in no shape to tumble. He’d have him dead…again… in five minutes, maybe less. How the hell had this happened? He’d known Devon’s spirit was here, Clare had told him that much, but he sure as hell had never expected to see him in human form again. The realization left him conflicted.

  Devon moved the sword from his right hand to his left and back to his right as he started down the steps. “You don’t belong here.”

  Cristian laughed. “An’ ye do?”

  Devon continued his approach, apparently not intimidated with Cristian’s ease or arrogance. “More than you.”

  It was obvious the man wasn’t going to back down. Cristian held his right arm straight, parallel to the floor, no longer caring what Ashley witnessed. She’d brought this upon herself. It was time she knew the truth. He had no doubt she and Camile had somehow resurrected Devon. But he didn’t have time to dwell, Devon had murder in his eyes.

  “Sword.” His silver and gold sword suddenly appeared in his hand, the weight always comforting. “Wonderful, now we’re evenly matched.”

  Snarling, Devon jumped down the few steps with his sword raised. Cristian lifted his
weapon, blocking the blow. The two came together in a clash of metal. Sparks flashed as blade hit blade. Cristian stumbled back, moved down the steps by Devon’s deadly advance.

  Having practiced together for years, they fell quickly into routine. As Devon’s blade came toward Cristian, he felt as if he’d stepped back in time.

  They were twenty, young, stupid, full of life. “Shall we call it a draw?” Devon’s young face was laughing.

  “Ready to give up already, are ye? I’m only getting started.”

  It had been another time. A time when they’d been friends. When they’d been evenly matched. But now in his weakened condition, the former ghost didn’t have a chance.

  Sweat glistened on the man’s face, his feet shuffled as he made his way down the steps, his limbs trembling like a newborn colt. He wouldn’t last long. Devon jumped over the railing, landing with a thud that rattled the chandelier above.

  “Yer good, for being half-dead,” Cristian commented.

  Although he faked an ease, his mind was spinning. How the hell had Devon become human? Camile appeared at the top of the steps, looking guilty as hell. Fuck. He’d been right, shoving the Witch and Seer together had been a bad mistake. Cristian spun, his sword raised. Devon blocked his hit.

  “I’m here, I’m here!” Camile stumbled down the steps. Her bag gripped to her chest, she darted straight toward Ashley. Cristian tried to ignore the women, even as he resisted the urge to reach out and shake some sense into their two pretty heads.

  “Toss this on him, will weaken his powers,” Camile said, having no idea that Cristian could hear every word.

  He was completely aware of Ashley inching toward them, completely aware of that blue bottle clutched in her small hands, completely aware even as he fought the deranged man in front of him. Devon swiped his sword wide. Cristian jumped back, almost stumbling into Ashley. She squeaked and skipped aside just as Devon’s sword came toward him again.

  For one moment Cristian’s heart stopped beating. Seeing her, Devon pulled back just in time. But Ashley didn’t scream or cower. Instead, she took the opportunity. Without hesitation, she tossed the liquid contents toward Cristian. The water arched through the air like a crystalline rainbow and splattered against his face. The room seemed to pause, growing silent. Any relief he felt knowing the little Seer hadn’t been cut down, quickly vanished. The entire room stilled.

  Gritting his teeth, Cristian slowly turned his gaze to her and swiped his face dry with his sleeve. “Ye are really starting tae annoy me.”

  She gasped, as if offended. Cristian growled low. Her eyes went wide and she scampered back into Camile. Taking his frustration out on Devon, Cristian raised his sword. Devon spun around just as the weapon came down.

  “It’s not working,” Camile cried. “He’s not slowing down. Balls, what is he?”

  “Good question,” Ashley replied.

  With a lunge, Cristian backed Devon up against the wall. Their swords came together with a clang, his arms vibrating. The room grew quiet. Devon gritted his teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he gripped the hilt and tried to push back against Cristian’s sword. Cristian’s muscles strained, pressing against his clothing. Devon might be half-dead, but his unnatural strength remained intact. Still, Cristian was stronger and he would win…again. But he sure as hell wouldn’t let this end the way it had last time.

  “Ye’ve let yerself go, my friend,” Cristian taunted.

  The man’s blue eyes grew murderous. He knew, deep down, Cristian would win. Devon’s fingers relaxed and his sword fell to the ground with a clank. He groaned and stumbled back against the wall, his entire body giving out. As Devon slumped to the floor, Ashley yelled her outrage. The sound fueled Cristian’s anger. How dare she worry over Devon’s welfare. He stepped closer, hovering over Devon with his weapon pointed directly at the man’s throat. He wouldn’t hurt him, but there was no reason not to scare the idiot.

  “No!” Without hesitation, Ashley threw herself in front of Devon, in front of that sword. She would end her life for Devon. The realization was like a knife to Cristian’s gut. It didn’t matter that Ashley was bonded to him by fate, she’d made her choice.

  She stared directly into Cristian’s eyes, daring him to slip the tip of that blade into her chest. Slowly, his lips turned up into a cold smirk even while his heart crumbled. “Ye think I wouldn’t kill a lass? Believe me, I have before.”

  Her pupils widened, her face going pale. But she didn’t back down. Devon stumbled to his feet and pushed her behind him, although he was completely exhausted and could do little to protect her. Always the fucking hero.

  “Yer pathetic,” Cristian said, his lips lifting in disgust. “Yer not worth it. Keep the sword, yer going tae need the practice.”

  Devon‘s jaw clenched, anger lurking in his familiar blue eyes. As he started to leave, something nagged at him. Cristian paused and studied his former friend. There was something else there behind that anger, something unidentifiable… as if the man weren’t quite himself. Realization hit like a punch to his gut. Suddenly Cristian understood. Of course, magic was never free.

  Hell, it was worse than he’d expected. Devon wasn’t quite Devon after all.

  Chapter 19

  “Okay,” Ashley clasped her hands behind her back and paced the bedroom. “So that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

  Devon snorted as he played with the hilt of the silver sword Cristian had forced upon him. Camile merely sighed. They were sitting side by side on her bed, her own little, exhausted Guerrilla army. A witch and a…well, what once was a ghost but now was…something.

  She shook her head and groaned. Cristian had won. He’d always win because they were pathetic. And even worse, a little part of her had wanted him to win. Damn it all, she couldn’t deny it now. Every time Devon’s sword had been anywhere near Cristian, her heart would literally stop in her chest. He might not care about her, but she cared about him, whether she wanted to or not.

  Yet Cristian had easily won, not even breaking a sweat. She’d had no reason to worry about him. She had the distinct realization that no magic, no training, no weapons could bring Cristian down. Devon, on the other hand… He was still pale, his forehead still damp with perspiration. Would he get better with rest, or worse with time?

  “Lie down,” she demanded.

  Camile jumped from the bed and nodded her agreement.

  “I don’t need to—”

  She put her hands on her hips and raised a brow. Camile did the same.

  He was no match for two mothering hens. With a sigh, Devon set the sword on the bed and collapsed against her pillows. He closed his eyes, but it was with obvious reluctance. She knew it stung that Cristian had gotten the better of him. Still, they had more important things to worry about than his ego. Like how the hell Cristian and Devon knew each other.

  “We have to figure out what Cristian is before we can make anymore plans.” And once they identified Cristian, she’d know more about Devon.

  “He sure as hell isn’t human,” Devon said, his eyes still closed.

  “That helps,” she muttered. If Cristian wasn’t human, then Devon probably wasn’t either. The thought sent an icy shiver over her skin. She crossed her arms over her chest. “But why wouldn’t your spells work on him? I mean even if he isn’t human, they should still work, right?”

  Camile shrugged. She looked sincerely confused. “Not necessarily. But I’m not sure, I’ve never meet anyone who wasn’t human. Well,” she frowned, “that I know of.”

  Even though she wanted to believe her, there was still that niggling doubt in the back of Ashley’s mind. Two of Camile’s supposed potions hadn’t worked on Cristian. “Your Aunt seemed friendly with him.”

  Camile’s gaze jumped to her, her brows raised in surprise. “Really? She’s never mentioned him before.”

  Her shock seemed real. “Would she tell you what he was, if you asked?”

  Camile frowned, dark circles marring the a
rea under her eyes. Ashley wasn’t the only one who’s life was in upheaval. Guilt ate at her gut. Because of her obsession for answers, she’d dragged these two into her mess.

  “Maybe, but she’s pretty damn loyal.” Camile shook her head, her nose ring flashing in the lamplight. “If she thought he was evil, she would’ve mentioned it to me. I doubt she knows.”

  Ashley twisted a lock of hair around her finger and continued to pace. “Your potion didn’t affect him. But the question is, why?”

  “Is that man gone?” Maggie asked, forming in front of her.

  Ashley was getting so use to the ghost’s sudden appearance that she barely flinched when the child appeared.

  Devon pushed himself to sitting, his brows drawn together. “What was that?”

  “Maggie,” Ashley said over her shoulder, before turning back to the child. “He’s gone, for now.”

  Her lower lip stuck out in an all-too-familiar pout. Ashley resisted the urge to sigh. She so couldn’t take a whining kid right now, she had more important things to deal with.

  “I want him gone forever.”

  “I know.” Ashley raked her hair back from her face, part of her wishing the same, another part wanting the very opposite. How could she still be attracted to a man who was so vile?

  “Ye think I wouldn’t kill a lass? Believe me, I have before.”

  The words sent a cold chill over her body. She didn’t doubt Cristian would kill anyone who got in his way. “We’re trying to get rid of him.”

  “Where is she?” Devon stood, his body trembling with the effort. The frantic spark in his eyes gave Ashley pause. “There? Is she there by the door?”

  Ashley nodded, frowning. “Devon, can’t you see her?”

  He froze for a moment, but she could see his mind spinning, as if he was trying very hard to see the ghost girl. “Vaguely. I vaguely see a dark shadow and…and hear this soft murmur.”