“Now, about that money you sent.” Rickman glowered at Clare. “Even if Rossi didn’t say that he donated his time for free, I wouldn’t have charged you,” Rickman said. “I—we—take care of our own.”
“Harry’s an amazing man,” Clare said.
“He also said that you and he had a side agreement going on.”
“What?” Clare tilted her head, blinked. “Oh. I suppose.”
Zach zeroed in on her, just like his—his and Clare’s—boss. “You want to tell us about it, or is it super secret?” Zach asked.
Her brows arched high. “That’s between Harry and me.”
“We’re all friends here,” Desiree said easily, giving Clare big eyes. Sure, curiosity ate at her more than Zach and Rickman.
Clare seemed to weaken. Her lips parted, then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, that’s between the two of us, especially since Mr. Ros—that is, Harry, indicated it was an agreement sufficient enough to cover his fees as backup for me and Zach.”
“Harry also said that he enjoyed working with you. Exciting and he learns, uh, stuff when he’s around you.” Rickman cleared his throat. “Stuff about how to use his gift.” Tony made a cutting gesture. “Or how to shield or block energies or stuff.”
“Oh.” Clare shifted uncomfortably. Zach got the idea that she didn’t know what Rossi’s special gift was any more than Zach did.
But Desiree was talking on her phone. “Okay, Harry, spill. What’s this side agreement you have with Clare?”
“What side agreement? And haven’t I told you often enough to just text me? Only call when urgent?” Harry’s voice was panting and plaintive.
Clare sat stiff. “Desiree!”
Zach patted his lover’s thigh. “Rossi will cave before you can scold her into submission.”
“Harry?” Desiree prompted.
Clare got to her feet.
“At least tell Clare that she can tell us,” Desiree said hurriedly.
“Us? Who’s us?” Harry mumbled.
“Me, Tony, Zach, and Clare.”
Unintelligible grumble from Rossi.
“Stop bothering him!” Clare ordered, stomping over to Desiree and flinging out a hand.
A strangled laugh came through Desiree’s cell, and Rossi said, “Just tell them, Clare, they won’t like to hear it anyway. Logging off here. Don’t call unless there’s an emergency job.” The sound of two people breathing on the far end of the line stopped and the phone went dark.
“Hi, Clare.” Now Desiree gave Zach’s lover a big grin. As far as the rest of Rickman Security and Investigations staff knew, Clare was the only one who didn’t put up with crap from Desiree even though they were friends.
“That was mean, Desiree,” Clare stated.
Desiree’s gaze cut away from her.
“The second you knew he was in bed with someone, you should have terminated the call.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t do it again,” Clare instructed.
“But I wanted to know, Clare.”
“All curiosity doesn’t need to be satisfied,” Clare replied.
And there she proved herself different from the rest of Rickman’s people. Every single one of them put satisfying curiosity high on their list—a higher priority than Clare had on her own. They all stared at her.
“So what is your agreement?” Desiree persisted.
“He’s right, I don’t think you’ll like it.” Clare’s smile had a new edge to it, and Zach was sure he didn’t like that. He preferred a softer Clare and hoped she didn’t get too tough.
Desiree wiggled her butt. Rickman grinned.
“What!” she demanded.
“I told Harry that I’d let him know when I found a really peaceful cemetery for him to be laid to rest in.”
Zach felt his mouth pull down, caught an immediate revulsion from Desiree and a tightening of Rickman’s muscles.
“I work with ghosts and death all the time now,” Clare said quietly, now looking as tender as Zach wanted her. “I’ve accepted the thought of my own mortality, and I can talk about that easily with others.”
“Clare.” Zach held out his hand and she came to sit on his lap.
She continued, “The cemetery in Leadville is nice, but not quite right for Harry, I don’t think. And it’s unavailable for a lot of the year if one dies in the fall, winter, or early spring—”
“That’s enough,” Rickman said. He picked up his beer and glugged it.
“Oh,” Desiree said.
“As I was saying earlier.” Rickman yanked the topic back to one he might not have a problem talking about. “I do want to put you on the payroll, Clare, and not just keep you as a consultant.”
“Hmm,” she said, picking up her wine and drinking it, nicely relaxed against Zach’s body. Oddly enough, though he wasn’t entirely comfortable thinking about mortality, since he’d been hanging around with Clare, he, too, didn’t cringe as much as he had when the topic came up nowadays.
“I’ll be marketing more to people with unique problems,” Rickman said.
“We will be marketing more,” Desiree said. She leapt to her feet, hurried over to Clare, and hugged her. “Now that we know you’re all right and can handle whatever the ghost dimension can throw at you.”
Clare’s glass tipped a little, sending cold liquid onto Zach. He yelped.
“Oh, sorry!” Desiree sent him a twinkling look that said she wasn’t. She still figured he thought she was a loose cannon. She was right.
“No prob,” Zach said. But Clare hopped up and got a clean cloth napkin from the table, dipped it into the pitcher of water, then scrubbed at the white wine on his trousers. She came close enough to his dick that Zach had to send his mind elsewhere to control his reaction. Then she put the napkin on the table and sat on his lap and he went semi-hard. She was healed and healthy. Sex tonight would be incredible. He’d make sure of it.
“So, Clare?” pushed Rickman.
Clare leveled a look at Desiree. “You did that on purpose.”
“Clare, will you work for us?” Desiree pressed.
“Until you piss me off once and for all, then I’ll quit and cut you out of my life.” The finality of that statement told them all she was serious, and Zach could see her doing that. No second chances . . . because she’d already give second and third and whatever chances before she walked. Another sip of wine and she smiled that not-quite-nice smile again. “Sure, I’ll be a member of your tribe. Maybe I’ll find a really good spot for burial grounds for the lot of us.”
Zach laughed, took her glass and put it aside, hugged her tight, then kissed her. She—they—had taken another stride on the road to the future, and together.
* * *
The night sizzled with their lovemaking, fierce and passionate, and when Zach was done with her—she turned around and seduced him. So magnificent to be so free with a man who loved her.
In the morning, when Clare and Enzo returned from marketing and her Beginning Yoga session, they found Zach hanging a new, framed picture. When he stepped back, she blinked at the beauty of the photograph.
It showed the church in Manitou Springs against the deep blue of an autumn sky, accented by towering pines. Green grass, the boulder-strewn yard, and the low wall delineated the foreground. Above the church, clouds in shades of white and gray sailed. The chapel itself appeared to be bathed in the sun, with an extra shaft of golden light pouring from the door.
Beautiful! Enzo commented.
“I took a picture of this yesterday, after you got in the car. It came out great.” He slanted her a glance. “Almost otherworldly, huh?”
“Yes.”
It’s sunlight and the light of heaven. It felt GREAT, Enzo said.
“I’m glad,” Clare said and patted her spirit guide. He definitel
y didn’t feel as icy as he had been two days ago.
“I thought we needed to always keep it in mind,” Zach said.
“What?”
“Perpetual help. And maybe perpetual hope. Especially for the future. And our future together.” He walked to her with his hand outstretched. “We’re together, Clare, and I love you.”
She took his hand, loved the more than physical link between them. “I love you, too.”
I love you Clare and Zach, Enzo said.
“We love you back,” she and Zach responded.
“And that’s the best thing in life,” Zach said. He glanced down at Enzo. “Loving friends.” Drawing her into his arms, his lips brushed her temple. “Loving my woman.”
“Yes,” she said, then kissed him.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks, as always, to the local history people and visitors’ bureau, in this case, Manitou Springs Heritage Center and Manitou Springs Chamber of Commerce and Visitors Center (look for the huge green question mark). Unlike Clare, I wasn’t efficient with my mapping and needed directions. The visitors’ center also hands out a small plastic cup for water tasting, and, yes, I have notes on each spring. All the springs and their names and locations are real. The sculptures and other information on the springs themselves can best be found here: Mineral Springs Foundation, manitoumineralsprings.org/.
Also many thanks to Peggie Yager of the Manitou Springs Historical Society for her information about the Sisters of Mercy at Miramont Castle, an originally Irish order. I did want Sister Julianna Emmanuel to be French (and she is completely fictional), so that’s the nationality I made my healer ghost.
As always, the officers of the Manitou Springs Police Department and the El Paso County Sheriff’s Department are also completely fictional.
And, as usual, I visited Manitou Springs several times to get the feeling of the town for atmosphere for the book, and the geography and places stuck in my head.
There is no Deli Delish in Manitou Springs; that restaurant and the family who run it are completely fictional, like almost every other character in the book.
I did stay in Cliff House, an old and haunted hotel (a very fabulous place that made me feel like a New York Times bestselling author with the best French onion soup I’ve ever had), and had no incidents. I won’t tempt the Fates by saying I don’t believe in ghosts, but I have never had any incidents when in-house at a haunted hotel.
Bubbling Spring Resort’s name is taken from one of the original names of Manitou Springs, Boiling Springs. It is also based on a real place, but one that I visited via the Internet only, and I definitely took liberties (I think) with the villa.
An absolutely invaluable book for me was Images of America: Manitou Springs by Deborah Harrison, published by Arcadia Publishing, Charleston, South Carolina, 2003. Also wonderful was The Walking Tour: A Guide to Historic Manitou Springs, written by John and Joanne Pearring, text revisions by Roxanne A. Eflin, photographs by David E. Cameron, published by TextPros, Manitou Springs, Colorado, 1998. Naturally, I read and reread Haunted Manitou Springs by Stephanie Waters, published by Haunted America, a division of the History Press, Charleston, South Carolina, 2011.
Also thanks to the Pikes Peak Library District for several YouTube segments that helped my research, most particularly Phantoms in the Archives: Unlocking a Manitou Springs Mystery, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0iLbtWxuKQ) that dealt with Emma and Alice Crawford.
And, finally, I must acknowledge my good friend Rose Beetem, who has run Karval Kon over the years (a complete participation convention of about 8–15 people), for setting the convention in Manitou Springs for the last few years and with that, sparking the idea for this book.
Robin Owens is the bestselling author of the Celta novels, including Heart Fire and Heart Fortune, and the Ghost Seer novels, including Ghost Talker and Ghost Killer.
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Ghost Maker Page 31