by Amy Boyles
“Wait. Susan!” I extended my hand. Not that it would’ve helped if I grabbed her because she was a ghost and couldn’t be touched.
Susan vanished into the wall. I sighed and threw my head onto my palms. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes as I tried to work up a plan.
Luckily my phone rang just as my plans were quickly crashing and burning.
I thumbed the button. “Hello?”
“You sound horrible.”
I grinned. “Is that the way animals in the wild find mates? By telling each other they sound horrible?”
Roan chuckled. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess. So did you call to insult me or were you going to ride up on your noble steed and sweep me off my feet?”
“I didn’t know I was a pirate.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I didn’t say you were going to lock me on your ship and take me from my father. When I said steed, I meant your truck, and by whisk away, I meant date.”
He tsked. “You don’t give a guy a chance to woo you.”
“I’m all for wooing. I’ve just had a rough couple of days.”
“Oh no. That’s not good at all. Tell you what—I’ve got a roast in the oven and I’m baking something for dessert.”
My ears perked up, and my stomach growled. “Is this dessert packed with lots of calories that will make me regret eating it?”
“How’d you guess?” The sound of a mixer whirled in the background. “So how about it? I’ve got guests eating in a few hours, but I’m not serving them. One of the housekeepers is. What d’you say you come by and keep me company?”
“Sir, you want me to come sit in your apartment and entertain you?” I said in a mocking tone. “But I’m not the one who plays the guitar.”
He laughed. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. How does that sound?”
I glanced at my watch. “Sounds early for dinner.”
“Like I said, we can entertain each other.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“Isn’t it? Oh well, never mind. The basic question is—are you free?”
“I am.”
“Great. Don’t change your mind. I’ll see you in a bit.”
We hung up. I stretched my arms to the ceiling and grinned from ear to ear.
It was impossible to keep the smile from my lips. Talking to Roan was like playing tennis or volleyball. It was all hits and returns. I loved it.
Anyway, I showered—yes, again—and changed into a comfy gray sweater, jeans and buttery brown boots that pulled up to my knees. You know, as much as I wasn’t crazy about cold weather, I really enjoyed the clothes, especially the footwear.
It was always hard to give up boots when spring arrived.
Anyway, when Roan rolled up, I grabbed my purse, the box I’d taken from Southern Ghost Wranglers and the book about Haunted’s haunted history.
What a mouthful.
Roan, who didn’t miss much, arched a perfect brow. “That’s an interesting box. You got a science experiment kit in there?”
I shot him a scathing look. “No. This is ghost-catching equipment.”
His gaze slid to me. “You’re kidding.”
“I am not kidding. The only problem is, I don’t know how to use it.”
His ancient G-Wagon rumbled down the road. “Please tell me you’re not going to use that on me.”
“If you were a ghost, I would, but I won’t.”
He smirked. “So tell me about this bad day you’ve been having.”
I explained everything that had happened since our last date when Roan told me I couldn’t put my hand up his shirt.
“I never said you couldn’t do that,” he said.
“You practically did.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Okay, I’ll let you put your hand up my shirt if you stop bothering me about it.”
I clapped with something most people would call glee but I simply referred to as slightly more energetic than happy.
“Finally. What I’ve always wanted. To get my hand on your abs.”
He rolled his dark eyes. “Tell me the rest.”
I finished right as he pulled into the garage of his bed-and-breakfast. “Blissful, this is serious. You’ve got a spirit threatening you.”
I hitched a shoulder. “That’s why I need the box. But it’s more than that. I feel like this guy is hiding from me. Until I can unravel who the spirit is, I won’t have any control over it.”
Roan unbuckled his seat belt and popped the door open. “Wait right here.” It was a command. I would wait.
He got out, came around and opened my door. I handed him the box and slid from the seat. I shouldered my purse and walked alongside him as we approached the B and B.
“So you need the ghost’s name?”
“Yes. He’s keeping other spirits chained there, and I’m trying to figure out why and how. What’s the connection?” I curled my hand into his sleeve. “Roan, the spirit threatened the family that lives there. It threatened to destroy them.”
We reached the inn. He unlocked the side door and opened it for me to enter first. “Can it do that? Hurt people?”
I nodded. “Yes. It can. I think it already directly or indirectly killed two people that I know of. But I can’t be sure. I need to know more. That’s why I bought this book.”
I fished through my bag and retrieved what I’d purchased from Mr. Hodges. “I wanted to go through it and see if there was more it could tell me.”
Roan slid the box onto the kitchen counter. I stopped and sniffed. The scent of roasting meat drifted up my nose. My stomach growled.
Roan shot me an amused look. “Want a snack before dinner?”
“I might kill for one. I’m starving.”
“I don’t want you going homicidal. Let me make something.”
He washed his hands and set about piling a plate with cheese, fruit and crackers.
“You might know the house I’m talking about. The one on Ghoul. Anyway, a spirit told the Jarvises to contact me, and the evil ghost said there was a master. A master. What master? What could it be talking about?”
Roan stopped stacking crackers. He stared at the plate as if lost in it.
“Roan?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. That’s just strange. You saying something about the master. It was like there was something on the tip of my tongue, but it disappeared before the words would come.” His eyes widened playfully. “Isn’t that weird?” He grabbed my arm. “Come back to my room. We’ll finish talking about this.”
As I followed him, I couldn’t help but wonder what information was on the tip of his tongue and how it could help us.
His room was a suite off the kitchen. A couch stamped out one side, and his musical instruments lined the shelves of a wall. Roan kept every musical instrument he’d ever owned, including a plastic recorder that he’d explained was his very first.
Who would think that a cheap piece of plastic could create a passion?
It was so cute I just wanted to pinch his cheeks about it.
We settled in, and Roan placed the tray on the coffee table. He leaned back on the couch. The cushions cracked and groaned under the strain of his weight.
“I don’t like you going to this house.”
I’d pulled a slice of cheese off the tray. I now held it in midair. “What do you mean, you don’t like me going to this house?”
Roan raked his fingers roughly through the back of his hair, spiking it at the ends.
I didn’t want to tell him it looked cute. He might play that advantage on me by, you know, kissing me or something, and then, well, I might start thinking about my feelings for him.
Feelings were pesky annoyances.
“What I mean is, this place sounds dangerous, Blissful. I don’t like it.”
“It is dangerous. It’s dangerous for anyone who lives there. The Jarvises have a young girl. I think she’s a clairvoyant, which could make her more at
risk. If she can see the spirit, it can do more things to her—harm her.”
I shook my head. “I’m going back, and I’m doing it tonight.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
My gaze snapped to him. The expression in Roan’s face was quite serious.
“What?” I squinted at him.
“I said I’m going with you. We’ll eat some supper, skip the cuddling on the couch until later, and head over to the house.” He clapped his hands. “Easy as pie.”
“I hope it’s as easy as pie.” But I doubted it. I snapped my fingers. “I almost forgot.”
Interest filled his eyes. “What’s that? What could adorable little you forget?”
“Watch it, buster. I might be adorable but I’m deadly.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I’m properly chastened. What is it?”
“Come with me.”
He followed me to the kitchen. I beelined straight for the box. After pulling a pocketknife from my pocket—yes, I kept a pocketknife with me most of the time—and sliding the blade through the tape, I peeled back the tabs.
“What in the world is that?”
I stared down at the mass of package peanuts and waved my hand over the contents like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune. “This is my secret weapon.”
His lips curved in a perfect smirk. “That?”
“Yep.” I smiled brightly at him. “Let’s figure out how it works.”
TEN
“You’re sure that thing is going to work?”
Roan and I stood outside the Jarvis house. I stared up at the dark windows. The place felt eerie. Goose bumps washed over my flesh. It was unsettling.
And for me to say that meant it was truly unsettling. Little rattled me.
“I think it’ll work.”
Roan threaded his fingers through mine. I stared down at his hand.
“What?”
“You’re holding my hand.”
“I hate to inform you of this, but that’s what boyfriends do.”
My eyes must’ve flared like I was scared to death.
“Don’t get all worked up about it. I’m just holding your hand, Blissful. Trying to keep you safe.”
I cocked my head toward his other hand. “You might need both hands. You’ve got the Spiritus.”
He hitched a brow. “Spiritus?”
“Yes, that’s what the ghost catcher is called. A Spiritus.”
He shook his head. “I’m not convinced it’ll work.”
My jaw dropped. I released his hand. “Give it to me.”
He sighed. “If you say so.”
Roan dropped the crescent-shaped vessel into my hands. It was similar to what some cultures would call a spirit catcher. It was made of bone and carved with lots of symbols meant for trapping spirits. It was capped on both ends, but the caps could easily be removed so the spirit could slip inside. Once the spirit was in, the other end was capped and voila! You’d caught a spirit.
Whereas ancient cultures used simplified spirit catchers, this one ran on serious juice. Electrically charged fibers crisscrossed the inside. These were supposed to draw the spirit into the vessel.
Supposed to was the key word. This spirit catcher was new technology the Ghost Team had been working on before I was suspended.
Yes, I’d been suspended. I’d also discovered my recently deceased adopted father had lied to me for years about Lucky Strike, a big bad spirit who had trouble written all over his face.
My dad had struck a deal with Lucky, promising that if the spirit would unleash havoc in certain places at certain times, then my father would help him cross into the afterlife.
Well, my father never kept his promise. Plus he’d used the threat of Lucky to keep the government flooding money into the Ghost Team. My new saline-boobed boss, Anita Tucker, was in on the whole arrangement.
I’d been lied to. I didn’t appreciate being lied to. It wasn’t exactly at the top of my bucket list.
So anyway, I had the Spiritus and another instrument, a charged lasso that helped hold spirits. I hooked the lasso and the tube onto my utility belt.
“Aw, you look so cute with all that stuff on you.”
I shot Roan a scathing look. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Do you want to call Alice or Ruth?”
We headed up the front steps. The boards nearly screamed under our weight. “No. I don’t want either of them to be hurt. This guy is bad.” I gazed at Roan from the corner of my eye. “I’m not even sure I want you here. You can’t see spirits.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t help.” He reached for the doorknob.
“Let’s hope it’s unlocked.”
It was. The police department really should consider keeping folks’ property safe by locking up after themselves.
We stepped inside. I used the moonlight flowing into the massive windows to flip on a few lamps. “I don’t want it too bright in here.”
Roan whistled. “This place is massive.”
A loud rumble came from upstairs. It sounded like someone had thrown a boulder onto the floor.
Roan craned his neck. “What in the world?”
“It’s him.”
I whirled around. Artie sat on a stool eating grits. “Artie.”
“Who?” Roan’s gaze flickered to me. “Who’s Artie?”
I pointed to the spirit. “That’s Artie.”
Roan nodded. “There’s a spirit sitting there?”
“Yes, he’s eating grits.”
“And he’s eating grits,” Roan repeated.
I fisted my hands to my hips. “Listen, you didn’t have to come with me, you know. You wanted to.”
He raised his palms in surrender. “I know, but I wasn’t about to let you come here all alone.”
“I’m not alone.” I cut my hand to the spirit. “There’s Artie.”
He furrowed his brow. “Really, Blissful. I don’t think a ghost eating grits is much protection against a spirit like the one you explained to me.”
“He’s not. But at least he’s company.” I cocked my chin to Artie. “What’s the big bad mad about?”
“I don’t know. Some dame came to visit him today, and it ticked him off.”
My eyes widened. “Some dame? Do you mean a person?”
Artie ignored me. He pointed his spoon toward the tube. “You gonna try to catch him?”
“I was planning on it.”
“Good luck. You’ll need it.”
How could Artie sit and munch his grits so nonchalantly while the upstairs was rumbling as if an earthquake was striking it?
“Artie, can you remember any more? Who are you? How’d you die?”
He shook his head. “I told you, he won’t let me remember. I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to.” The spirit stopped eating. He closed his eyes. His brows pinched and his mouth twisted as if he was in horrible agony.
“Artie? Are you okay?”
His lids popped open. “Just trying to remember. Nope. Can’t do it.”
Talking to him was wasting time. I nodded to Roan. “I’m going to call the spirit down here. Are you ready?”
He nodded. “I’m ready. You just tell me what to do.”
“Okay.”
I cupped my hand around my mouth and inhaled a deep breath. I prayed this was the right thing. I didn’t pray much, but when I did, I meant it. I needed all the help I could get in that moment.
I yelled from the pit of my lungs. “Hey, ugly! Why don’t you come down here and say hello?”
The rumbling stopped. Just like that. As if I’d flipped a switch. I waited. What I’d said had either really ticked the big bad off or he’d come down gently, ready to pounce.
A cold breeze sliced through the air.
“You did it now,” Artie said.
Next thing I knew, Artie had vanished. Right after that, every picture and mirror nailed to the walls in the front room smashed to the floor.
“Holy cow,” Roan said.
The room quaked as if the earth had split open and was ready to swallow us whole.
The black form appeared before us. It was inky and bottomless. I sensed that if I fisted my hand into the thing, it would never come out.
“Is that it?” Roan said.
I glanced at him. I’d never seen Roan afraid, and this was probably about as close as I was ever going to come. His eyes glassed over as they took in the misshapen blob.
“You can see it?” I said.
Roan’s brow wrinkled. “I’d have to be blind not to.”
“You returned,” it said in a raspy, metallic voice.
“I did. I don’t scare easily.”
“Are you prepared to die?”
I tipped my head toward Roan. “Why are ghosts so melodramatic?”
“I don’t know. Do you think real people go around talking like that? ‘I’m going to kill you. You’re about to die.’ Wow. This guy’s got issues.”
I laughed. “He certainly does. Keeps other spirits chained here. Has a horrible attitude. Thinks that he owns this house when really it belongs to the living. I mean, he’s definitely got issues.”
“I would agree.” Roan tsked. “You got the tube?”
I winked. “I sure do.” I passed it to him and pulled my lasso.
“You think your little toys will hold me?” the spirit said.
“Yes, I do.” I thumbed open the loop to make it wider and started swinging. “The thing about bullies like you is that you think you can control others and that it’s okay. Look, pal, controlling others is never okay. You need to be stopped, and we’re the people to do it.”
I swung the rope. The blob shifted, zipping across the room.
“Fast sucker,” I murmured.
The house rumbled and rattled. Knickknacks toppled from bookcases and tables. Porcelain shattered.
Porcelain could be fixed. People were much harder to mend.
“You’ll never get me,” he sneered.
“Oh I will, too.” I raced forward, the rope in hand. I gave it one good swing over my head and threw.
The loop sailed through the air. It landed directly around the spirit. As soon as the fibers of the lasso collided with the electromagnetic energy of the ghost, the lasso tightened.