by Amy Boyles
“What is that thing?” Roan yelled.
I tugged and pulled, fighting to tighten the. “It’s designed to work with apparitions. It should hold him. Open the tube!”
Roan opened the tube and threw it across the floor. It landed just underneath the spirit.
The ghost snarled and yelled, cursed and blasphemed. “You will die for this! The master will have your head!”
I gave the rope another good tug. The can sucked the spirit into it like a vacuum. The rope fell empty to the ground. Roan darted across the floor and capped the Spiritus.
Both of us exhaled. Sweat sprinkled my brow. I swiped my forehead clean and glanced across the room. Roan stood like a god at the end.
Lamplight haloed his figure. He seemed larger, as if with every inhalation he grew and the house shrank. His hand curled around the canister, his bicep flexed. Every muscle taut. Energy charged Roan’s body. He was a lion ready to pounce.
“Roan?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“Roan?” I said louder.
He dragged his gaze from the Spiritus. When his eyes met mine, I sucked air. They were dark, inky, as if something else had taken hold of him.
I rushed over. “Roan!” I pressed my hands to his chest. He was cold. Like from the inside out. I fisted his shirt and jerked him forward. “Roan!”
He blinked and shook his head. Roan rocked back and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I had the strangest sensation.”
“What was it?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Like I was standing surrounded by spirits.” His gaze broke from mine. “It’s so strange. I felt a rush of something.” He lifted his free hand and stared at it. “Something in these hands. Something about them.”
I studied him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He broke into a grin. “Wow. Glad that’s over.”
“You saw it. You saw the spirit.”
“Oh yeah.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I almost soiled my pants over it.”
I laughed. “I forget you’ve never seen one before.”
“Yeah. No. I’d never seen one.” He stared back at the tube. “That was a ride. Wow. We caught a ghost! That is cool, Blissful.”
He wrapped his arms around me, picked me and swung me around. I laughed as Roan yelled. “We caught a ghost! Blissful Breneaux catches ghosts! She is the coolest girl in the world!”
I laughed and laughed. Something bubbled in my heart, and for the first time I realized the depth of my feelings for Roan Storm. Roan stopped, his chest heaving.
I dipped my head down as he glanced up, his eyes shining and a beautiful wide smile plastered on his lips. My chest ballooned. I felt full, as if I had been pumped up with sunshine and rainbows. Nothing could burst this perfect feeling.
“You’ve got love in your eyes,” Roan said.
Nothing but that. My face fell. I swatted him. “Well, if I have love eyes, I don’t know what you have—maybe a funny face.”
He laughed and released me slowly. I slid down his body until our lips met. His mouth grazed mine. I sighed into him and felt safe.
When our lips parted, he hugged me. “You did it! You caught the ghost.”
I beamed at him. “We caught the ghost.”
“Ah hem.”
I turned to see Artie sitting on his stool. “Artie! You’re free. You can go now.”
Artie shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
Roan released me to floor. “What do you mean?” I crossed to the ghost, whose bowl was empty. No grits. Imagine that.
He shook his head. “You caught the spirit, but he’s only trapped. You didn’t break his spell on this place. There’s still something holding me here.”
I pressed at a worry line digging into my forehead. “What do you mean? He’s gone. You should be free.”
Never in my life had I heard of such a thing. When a spirit was caged, the power or control the spirit wielded was trapped as well.
Artie shook his head sadly. “I’m still bound to this earth. So’s Molly. Until you have a name, I’ll be forced to stay on earth. I can’t rest.”
“A name?”
Artie pointed to the tube. “His name. Until you know his name, I can’t enter the afterlife.”
ELEVEN
“Artie says we need a name.”
Roan and I were back at the inn. I picked at dessert leftovers. Dessert had turned out to be the best cinnamon rolls on the planet. Roan had even drizzled cream cheese icing on top.
He really knew how to make a girl fat.
Not that I was trying, but I’d certainly be gaining weight if I continued to date Roan.
Roan poured a glass of water and slid it over to me. “What name?”
“The name of the spirit or else he can’t leave the house.”
“That’s what I said.” Artie sat on a kitchen chair. Apparently now he could leave the Jarvis home but was still forced to walk the earth. “You gotta find out his name.”
I wanted to rake my fingers down my face. “How am I going to discover a name if you don’t have a clue?” I snapped my fingers. “Maybe he’s Mr. Hudson—the bed-and-breakfast owner.” My gaze shifted to Artie. “Does that ring a bell?”
Artie swatted the air. “Lady, I haven’t heard a bell ring in half a century. None are going to start ringing now.”
Roan crossed his arms. “What’d you say the name of that woman was? The body they found?”
“Molly Menzel.”
“There’s something familiar about that.” Roan rapped his fingers on the table. “Something about that name.”
I glanced at the Spiritus. The thing sat silently on the counter. I didn’t know which way to turn. If his hold on the house was still so strong, did that mean he might be able to break out of the container?
I’d caught him once. I didn’t know if I’d be able to do so again.
In that moment I made an executive decision. “We need reinforcements.”
Roan had been drinking his own glass of water. He set it gently on the counter and shoved up his sleeves.
“Reinforcements? What do you mean?”
I darted to my purse and dug through it until I found what I was looking for. I flashed the card to Roan. “We need this guy. Axel Reign. I’m going to call him.”
“Now? It’s late.”
I glanced at the wall clock. It was a little late, but most PI’s worked weird hours.
I winked at Roan. “He’ll be up.”
I excused myself and dialed the number. There was an answer after a couple of rings.
“Axel Reign.”
Here went nothing. I wasn’t sure if I should lead off with my talents or just give this guy the lowdown about the situation. In the end the safest way seemed to simply go with the facts.
“Hi, Axel. My name is Blissful Breneaux, and I need your help.”
A short pause came from the other end. Then Axel’s voice cut through. “Go on.”
I explained the situation about finding Molly Menzel’s body. I had a feeling whoever the big bad ghost was, he’d been involved in Molly’s murder. Maybe Artie’s. I wasn’t sure. But either way, according to Artie I needed a name for the ghost. Which meant that I would also have to risk unleashing the sucker one more time so I could name him, break his hold over the other spirits and send him on his way to the afterlife.
Whichever afterlife that may be. At the moment I was pretty sure this guy wasn’t gonna be sitting with St. Pete, if you know what I mean.
As I spoke to Axel, Roan switched on the late-night news. A crowd of reporters flocked in front of a house. The caption at the bottom blipped that it was the Menzel house. The front door opened, and a white-haired man peered outside before slamming it shut.
“Her father,” I murmured.
“What’s that?” Axel said.
“Only that it looks like the police found the missing Menzel girl’s family.”
&nb
sp; “Good. They’ve done part of the work for us.”
I exhaled a shaky breath. “So you’ll take the case?”
“I will. I’ll arrive in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Blissful.” His voice was low, demanding. When this guy spoke, people listened. I only hoped his sleuthing skills were worth the cost I would be paying.
“Yes?”
“Why’s this case important to you? What’s your story?”
I hadn’t expected this question. “Well…let’s just say it’s personal for me. I’m not related to anyone involved, but the answer to the question I’m hoping you can find out will help a lot of people.”
“Fair enough.”
We hung up after agreeing to meet at Southern Ghost Wranglers first thing in the a.m.
I slid the phone into my pocket and crossed to Roan. He draped an arm over my shoulder. “So is he coming?”
“First thing.”
Roan glanced down at me and smiled. “Great. You tired?”
A yawn escaped my lips.
He laughed. “I guess so.” He threaded his fingers through mine and tugged me toward his bedroom. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
I locked my knees. “Wait. What are you talking about? Going to bed here?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Blissful. I’m not gonna try anything.” He wagged a finger at me. “And neither are you. I’m stuffing a pillow between us.”
I wiped my sleeve across my mouth, stifling a laugh. “Okay, but only if you promise.”
He flipped off the TV and winked, which totally confused me.
“So are you putting the pillow between us or not?”
He tugged me to him and wrapped his arms around my waist. I glanced up into his dark puppy-dog eyes. “I am going to do that. After.”
I quirked a brow. “After what?”
His lips spread into a slow, delicious smile. “You’ll see.”
I followed him into the bedroom, and Roan shut the door behind us.
You’ll see turned out to be a pretty heavy petting session that left me all tangled and knotted and Roan soothing me that at some point things would go farther, but not until I was ready.
I was ready now, darn it.
But since he was convinced that I wasn’t actually emotionally ready, whatever that meant, I had to untangle myself from him and take a really long, cold shower before I was able to get back into bed.
Thanks, Roan.
Roan was snoozing quietly when I tiptoed from the bathroom. The sound of his even breathing made me smile. I spied my path back to my side of the bed—and yes, Roan had stuffed a pillow barrier between us on the bed—and started to pick my way across the floor when it hit me.
The energy in the room was all wrong. I could feel my hair rising from my shoulders, as if a great magnet had been placed on the ceiling.
A trail of energy tingled down my spine. Whatever it was that was causing this to happen stood behind me. I suddenly felt like I was living a horror movie. Once I turned, the monster would be in view. I would throw up my hands screaming, and it would eat me.
But what this monster didn’t know was that I would kick it between the legs and jab it in the eyes. There would be no screams coming from these lungs.
I turned around slowly, prepared for the worst.
What I came face-to-face with was—nothing. Oh no, they wouldn’t get off that easy.
“Who’s here? Show yourself.”
The room seemed to still as if the lines of time and space had stopped progressing. All points converged in Roan’s room. The feeling of oppression returned, but this time it wasn’t just a sixth sense.
Something pushed on my head. A great weight had been placed there. My knees shook. I scraped my hands over my scalp but couldn’t feel anything on me.
Nevertheless the feeling persisted. This wasn’t an enemy I could see to fight.
“Stop it,” I yelled.
But the feeling intensified. For the first time in my ghost-hunting career I started to think I’d bitten off more than I could chew.
Not once in my life had I experienced anything like this. “Stop,” I yelled again.
The weight subsided, but only for a moment. I jerked forward to get out of the path of the thing, but I was yanked back. A crushing sensation gripped my throat. Whatever it was wanted to choke me to death.
“Oh!”
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t call out to Roan. There was only one thing I knew to do. I thrust my hand out and focused.
A thousand pinpricks of light danced in the darkness. The presence lessened.
“Go to the light,” I wheezed, grabbing my throat. “Go!”
“Never,” a voice rumbled through the silence.
“Blissful?” Roan shot up in the bed. His face twisted in horror.
An invisible hand yanked my towel, pulling me.
Roan’s hand thrust forward. “You will not!”
And just like that, in the blink of an eye, the thing vanished. I knew it immediately. The oppressive weight slipped away. The light slowly dimmed.
Through the waning light my eyes locked with Roan’s.
“What was that? What did you do?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
I cocked my chin at him. “Bull. You know.”
Roan’s gaze cut to the bed. He scrubbed his fingers over his scalp and sighed. “Blissful, there’s something I need to tell you.”
I crossed to him and sat on the mattress. The cushion dipped under my weight. Roan extended his hand, and I took it, relishing the feeling as our fingers slid over one another.
I hitched a brow. “You’ve got some explaining?”
“I do.”
“I’m all ears.”
TWELVE
“I come from a long line of demonologists.”
I stared at Roan. “Demonologists?”
He shot out a breath of air. “Yes. Demonologists.”
I squinted at him and suddenly felt very naked in only my towel. “Why don’t you start with what happened just now? I was being attacked by something I couldn’t see—but you did. You saw it. So have you been lying to me this whole time? When we first met, you said you’d never seen a ghost.”
“That’s true. I hadn’t until tonight, and I’d certainly never caught one. I wasn’t lying about that.” His jaw clenched. “But I did see something over you. It was dark. It didn’t have a human shape. It was sort of formless like water.”
“And what you did, with your hand?”
Roan’s fists tightened. “I don’t know what I did. I saw you in trouble and worked instinctively.” He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it skewed in back. It was boyish and charming, giving a different impression from the sarcastic Roan I was used to.
“I wanted the thing to stop and it did.” Roan gazed at me, his eyes full of sincerity. “I swear I don’t know how I made it go away. The only thing I knew was that you were in danger. I could not have that. If I had to wrestle the spirit to hell, I would have.”
I smiled. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
His lips tightened to a smile, though his gaze was cold as stone. “It’s not meant to be sweet. I’m being honest. You were getting hurt. That had to end.”
“So what does all of this mean?”
He capped one hand over the one holding mine. “Let me start at the beginning. My grandfather, you’ve heard of him, right?”
“You mean the guy who trapped the spirit in the cellar but didn’t bother to tell anyone what to do about it?”
Roan grinned. “That’s the one. He was a demonologist. I know there are all sorts of rumors around town about him—he dabbled in spirits, he worked black magic, that sort of thing. But none of it’s true. He was a demonologist.”
I tipped my chin down. “Which means?”
“Which means he had some command over evil, like demons. He could banish them.”
&
nbsp; “Like you just did?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. But that wasn’t a demon. It was dark, but not a demon. That much I could feel.”
“So somehow your power works on dark entities but you don’t know how. That’s a problem.”
“I realize that,” he said through gritted teeth. “But he could. The talent skipped my father and I thought it had skipped me, but obviously it didn’t.”
I pulled my hand from his and tightened the towel around me.
Roan’s gaze flickered to my bare shoulders. “Let me get you a T-shirt.” He slid off the bed and rummaged in his drawers until he found one. “Here.”
I slipped the soft cotton over my torso and delicately peeled the towel from under my arms. I dried my hair as we spoke.
“So you don’t know what you did, but you banished the spirit. And you’d never seen a spirit before tonight.” I chewed on all this new information. “What could have triggered your gift?”
“More like curse.” Roan rubbed his face.
I grabbed his hand and rested it over my heart. “It’s not a curse. I lived the first half of my life believing clairvoyance was a curse. It isn’t. It’s a gift. Repeat after me. A gift.”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Fine. It’s a gift. But the trigger? I don’t know. Something about when that spirit in the house talked about the master, there was something in that word that awoke a part of me.”
I cocked my head. “Why would one word do that?”
“Then I held the Spiritus.”
Maybe that was a bigger clue. “And?”
“I could feel the spirit coiling inside, growing angry, wanting freedom. I felt it as strongly as if they had been my own emotions.”
Something had stirred in Roan, and that something was breaking free. “Maybe feeling the spirit’s energy awoke your latent powers.”
He scoffed. “It would help if I knew how to use them. There’s nothing in the cellar that gives me any clue as to what to do. Do I summon spirits? How do I use this?” He gazed down at his hands. “I don’t have a teacher.”
“You worked by instinct tonight. That’s big. But who attacked me?”