More Than a Feeling

by Cate Dean

  “Not the spell.” Claire cleared her throat, forced herself to meet Annie’s eyes. “What the caster needs to do. I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do what is asked in the spell.”

  “You’re not the only one here.”

  “No.” She pulled free of Annie’s grip and backed away. “You will not—I can’t ask you to be part of this, now that I know what is demanded.”

  “Tell me, Claire, before you dismiss me and whatever raw talent I have.”

  There was more than even Annie suspected. Claire swallowed, staring at the open pages. “The caster must bare their soul to Heaven, to prove they are worthy to speak for the tortured ghost. I can’t do this.”

  “Then I’ll do it. Don’t let no be the next word out of your mouth.” She looked over at Daniel, still kneeling next to the coffee table. “I have to help him, Claire. I have to. He carries the same grief, and I’ve only dealt with it for three months. He’s carried his for almost two centuries. I can’t even imagine how that feels, and I can’t walk away without at least trying to help.” Tears edged her voice by the time she finished.

  Claire took her hands. “What you want to do is admirable, and I understand your reason. I want you to read the information first, before you make a decision. I will accept whatever you want to do—after you understand just what you are agreeing to do.”

  “Okay.”

  Claire led her to the coffee table, turned to the first page of the passage, and moved away while Annie bent her head and read the mixture of Meredith’s neatest writing, and Claire’s quickly scribbled notes. Daniel stepped away, giving her room.

  She headed for the kitchen, and filled the electric kettle, plugging it in. A quick rummage through her refrigerator told her she needed to do some serious grocery shopping soon, but she scrounged enough cheese and fruit for a snack. After adding some crackers, she set everything on a tray and carried it to the living room. Annie was still absorbed in the grimoire, a frown creasing her forehead. Claire left the tray on the end of the coffee table and went back for the hot water and tea bags.

  By the time she returned to the living room, Annie was waiting, her face pale. “I don’t know if I can do this—God, Claire, what kind of masochist wrote this spell?”

  “There is a reason Meredith buried the spell. She knew it would take desperation, or a deep need to help, for a witch to even attempt it.”

  Daniel moved away from the wall near the door, his voice quiet. “Annie Sullivan, I will understand if you cannot—ˮ

  “Part of me wants to run away and pretend I never met you, Daniel Sutherland. The other part knows I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. I don’t know if I’m strong enough—ˮ

  “You are.” Claire held out her hand, and pulled Annie to the sofa. “You are untrained, but your power lights you up, Annie. With some training, you will be a force that would make most of the witches I know think twice before crossing you.”

  “Whoa. I never—I mean, I knew I was different, and I researched the weird things I could do, even as a little girl. But I didn’t think I’d ever be more than average.”

  “Trust me, even untrained, your power is not average.”

  “So, I can help them? Free Juliet?”

  Claire sighed, and scrubbed at her face, exhaustion pressing down on her. “We can try.” She glanced over at Daniel. “It won’t be easy, and I fear that we may do more than free Juliet, if we aren’t prepared.”

  Annie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The spell releases all from their bonds. Including her murderer.”

  “Damn. Is there a spell in there to send his ass to Hell?”

  Laughter burst out of Claire. She shook her head and squeezed Annie’s hand. “There probably is, and we will have to be ready for the backlash of a vengeful spirit. Whoever murdered Juliet will not be happy to lose their hold on her.”

  “So we make sure he or she are on their way downstairs before they can do the whole vengeful thing.”

  “Exactly. But before we set out to vanquish evil spirits, we are both going to get some sleep, and start fresh in the morning. Unless you have obligations.”

  “I’m on leave from my job at the yoga studio, so count me in.” She stood and stretched, tall, vibrant, too young for the weight Claire saw on her heart. “See you in the morning.”

  She walked out of the living room, leaving Claire alone with Daniel.

  “Daniel, I don’t want you near the mansion until just before Juliet’s murder. We need time to prepare—”

  “The bruise I gave you is gone.” She reached up to touch her cheek. “I remember you, Claire Wiche.” His words stilled her. “Though you wore another face, and another name.” He appeared in front of her, anger and fear in his dark blue eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Someone who can help you find peace. That’s all I can give you, Daniel. Please don’t ask for any more, or this ends now.”

  After long, tense moments, he nodded. “I will leave you to your secrets, Claire. But if Juliet dies again, we will have words—and I will have your secrets.”

  He disappeared, and she could tell that he was gone this time, only the cold air that wrapped around her as proof that he had been here. She moved to the sofa and sat before her knees gave out.

  For the first time in decades, she was going to touch the veil, on the one night when both the living and the dead could pass through it.

  For the first time she would touch the edge of the power she had buried on a rainy night, at the edge of a river.

  SEVEN

  Annie found Claire up and dressed when she wandered out of the bedroom just before sunrise.

  “Good morning.” Claire pulled a pair of leather boots on over her jeans and stood. “I was just about to wake you. We need to head over to the Sutherland mansion as soon as I have packed up my supplies.”

  “What? Now?” Annie stared at her. “That place is haunted by more than Juliet. Not even the dumbest kids in the neighborhood go near it.”

  “Where did you think we were going to free Juliet?”

  “Well—there, but not until tonight.” She’d braced herself for that, but spending most of the day there? On Halloween? “What if her killer—ˮ

  “Reaches out and touches us?” Claire did a bad job of hiding her smile. “According to Daniel, they will not be able to sense us until the exact moment of the murder. I have protection, and we will stay out of their range. I can’t go into this blind, Annie. We are both risking too much.”

  “Okay, got it. You can stop hitting the obvious button.” This time Claire’s smile flashed across her face. Annie studied her, and noticed that the bruise on her face was gone. “What happened to the bruise Daniel gave you? It was a nasty one.”

  “I have always been a fast healer, and I have some ointments that help.”

  Annie let it go. For now. “What kind of protection?”

  She almost missed the relief that flashed in Claire’s eyes. “We’ll go to my shop. It doesn’t open until noon on Sunday, and my part time help runs the shop for me on the weekends. I have most of what we need there. If not, a quick trip to The Witch’s Way may be in order.”

  Annie raised both eyebrows. “You shop at your competitor?”

  “Madame Serena does have a larger shop, and favors cramming as much as possible into the space.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “At any rate, we have been friendly since I opened, especially after she discovered there are customers enough for both of us. Did you want to go home first, take some time to clean up?”

  “Yeah.” She felt disheveled and dirty, after sleeping in her shirt, and she knew her hair looked like she’d played with electricity. “I’ll meet you at The Wiche’s Broom in an hour.”

  “Knock on the front door. I will watch for you.”

  She showed Annie out the back door, and Annie jogged down the alley, glad she didn’t drive yesterday. The militant parking regulations would have had her car towed
and in the public lot a minute after the stores on Forest closed for the night.

  Still at a jog, she turned into the narrow street running along the side of Claire’s store—and skidded to a halt when a figure stepped out of the wall.

  “God—Daniel?” He glided closer, still close to transparent. Annie could see through him to the street. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your power is like a light in this dark place, Annie Sullivan. I needed—ˮ He lowered his head, and his grief reached out to her like a physical thing.

  “We’re going to help you, Daniel. You were there half the night, you know Claire has a plan—”

  “Do you trust her?” He studied her, impressive even as a barely-there spirit. In life, he must have been at least six foot three. Annie had to look up to meet his eyes. She had been so overwhelmed at the cemetery, she didn’t notice his height—or anything beyond the fact that he actually existed.

  “With my life.” Something about Claire had Annie trusting her from the beginning. “She won’t walk away, Daniel. Neither of us will.”

  He bowed to her. “You have my deepest gratitude, Annie Sullivan.”

  “Annie will do. Now, if what I read last night is correct, you’re expending energy. So get out of here, and save it for tonight. You’ll need it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You are going to my home now. I would accompany you.”

  She sighed, rubbing at her forehead. Three hours of sleep did not give her brain enough downtime to keep up in an argument with a stubborn ghost. “It’s not like I can stop you, but if we need you on tonight, and you can’t bring it to the table, none of us may see November 1st.”

  “I will, as you say, bring it to the table. For my Juliet, I will sacrifice all that I am.”

  He said it with such depth, his feelings for her raw on his face, that Annie couldn’t say no to him. “Just be ready for a lecture if you do show.”

  “A lecture from Claire Wiche, I am presuming.”

  “You are presuming correctly.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “I find myself enjoying this banter with you, Annie. For too long I have wandered, invisible to those around me, and heard nothing but inane conversations on those cell phones you seem so bound to.”

  “You’re not wrong,” she muttered, though she’d been turning her phone off lately, to keep from seeing all the well-meaning texts. “I have to go, since I’m meeting Claire soon. If you want to be part of this, don’t show yourself until we’re at your mansion.”

  “Very well. Until then, Annie Sullivan.”

  Before she could say anything he disappeared, leaving a cold spot where he had been. Odd—he had felt cold when he was solid, but the air around him had been the normal October chill, unlike every ghost encounter she’d ever read.

  “You’re a mystery, Daniel Sutherland.”

  She would help him past his grief, if she could. No one deserved what he had suffered for two centuries.

  With only half an hour before she had to be back here, Annie sprinted to her apartment, using the time to decide whether or not she should tell Claire about her encounter with Daniel. She had a feeling Claire would try to stop him somehow, while Annie thought his insight might be what put them one step ahead in the game.

  “Deal with it if he shows, Annie.”

  Good advice—he may not even appear. If he did—she’d worry about Claire’s reaction if and when.

  *

  Even rushing, Annie was still late, and sheepishly tapped on the glass door of The Wiche’s Broom.

  “I was starting to worry,” Claire said as she let Annie in. “I know you got too little sleep.”

  “Enough. Sorry, I was delayed on my way home. What can I do?” She steered the conversation away from her delay as fast as possible. Damn—she didn’t even mean to mention it. Brain fry never allowed for good decisions. “Did you have everything we need for the—what do we call it? Not an exorcism.”

  “Break the loop, pull her out of the moment of her murder. What happens after that, we won’t know until it happens. Which means we have to be prepared for several possible scenarios.”

  “Let me guess—you have a list.”

  Claire flashed her a smile, color creeping into her cheeks. “I do. Lists help keep me organized.”

  “Hey, no need to justify yourself to me. I think lists are great—they just make me feel guilty for all the stuff I haven’t done yet.”

  Claire took her arm and headed to the back of the store. “You have been using lists all wrong if that is the result. We can work on it.” She stopped at the round table, which was covered with piles, each one neatly labeled. “This what I’ve gathered so far. We are missing a few components, which will mean a stop at The Witch’s Way.”

  “Can I take some aspirin now? Her patchouli addiction gives me a headache every time I go in there.”

  Claire’s laughter made her smile. “It is a bit much, I agree. Her over scented shop is one of the reasons I chose simple lavender for mine.”

  “Good choice. I felt calm the second I walked in. Can we go now and get it over with? I know she opens early on Sundays, probably because you don’t.”

  “After two years of sitting alone in the shop on Sunday mornings, I found that opening early did not suit my business plan.”

  “Don’t ever repeat that in front of Madame Serena.”

  Claire winked at her. “Never. I enjoy my good hearing.”

  It was Annie’s turn to laugh. Madame Serena had a loud voice, and a temper that could send even Mildred scurrying for the door.

  “If you have your list ready, let’s get this over with, so I have time to recover before we head to the Sutherland mansion.”

  “Is there something I’m missing here, Annie?”

  “Not really. I just—well,” Annie picked at the edge of the tablecloth. “Last time I was there I criticized one of her displays, not aware that she stood right behind me.”

  “Ouch. You can wait outside, if you like.”

  “No—I’ll go in, face the dragon.”

  “I admire that. You are braver than I would be in the same circumstance.”

  Annie looked up, meeting Claire’s eyes. “I’ve never met anyone who keeps so calm in the middle of a crisis. When Daniel showed up like that—if I’d been alone, I would have run screaming like a little girl.”

  “Thank you.” She stood, looking flustered. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” Annie followed her to the front of the store, and touched her shoulder when they reached the counter. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much—experience with compliments. I have lived a solitary life, and—I am not trying to make excuses, simply explain why I may be uncomfortable if you do offer me such a thing.”

  “That thing was the truth, Claire. Get used to it, because I have a lousy poker face, and I’m a worse liar.”

  Claire looked up at her, amusement in those unique, silver blue eyes. “I will remember that.” She picked up the black bag and swung the strap over her shoulder. “Thank you, for your honest speaking. I find it refreshing, especially after days of dealing with customers like Mildred.”

  Annie rolled her eyes and followed Claire out of the store. “That woman is going to set herself on fire someday, then come in and blame you for selling her the candle she used for the spell.”

  “I would worry, if she had enough power to set herself on fire. I am afraid the only way she would manage that would be to fall on the candle.”

  “Oh, God—don’t tell me she has any power.”

  “A touch, most likely passed down to her from her Irish ancestors. Not enough for her to do anything, thank the heavens.”

  Annie pressed one hand to her chest. “You nearly gave me heart failure. That woman, with power—I’d be leaving the state.”

  Claire’s laughter was like a gift, especially now that Annie knew she didn’t do it that often. That was going to change, because as far
as Annie was concerned, Claire just found her first friend in Santa Luna.

  They reached The Witch’s Way, and Annie took a deep breath of fresh air before following Claire inside. Patchouli assaulted her, worse than she remembered. Hopefully, what they needed was near the front of the store, and easy to find.

  All hope fizzled when Madame Serena came stalking around the corner.

  “Claire Wiche, what are you doing here? Oh, that’s right, you open later on Sunday.”

  Before Madame Serena could throw insults, Claire smiled at her. “I am in need of a few items. Things I don’t normally carry, and I am hoping you have them in stock.”

  “What?” Madame Serena looked suspicious, arms crossed over her impressive cleavage.

  “Here you are.” Claire handed her a list, and waited politely while she studied it, her face scrunched up. “Anything you might have will be greatly appreciated.”

  “What—so you can hike the price and sell them in your precious little shop? I don’t think so.” She balled up the list and threw it at Claire—who caught it mid-air, without even looking at it. Madame Serena stepped back, her eyes wide. “Get out, Wiche, before I call the police and have you hauled out.”

  “I would ask one question before I go. What have I done to deserve your animosity?”

  Madame Serena crowded her against the wall, her bulk practically smothering Claire’s slender frame. “You came out of nowhere, and opened that—place, and you think I wouldn’t be bitter? You stole my customers!”

  Those customers had started gathering, drawn by her screeching. Annie moved to Madame Serena, using her superior height to her advantage. “Step back, or you’ll be the one hauled in for assault. I have my high school sweetheart, and now police lieutenant, on speed dial.” She waved her phone. “Give me a reason, Agatha.”

  Madame Serena’s face reddened when Annie used her real name, a little tidbit she learned from her former sweetheart after Madame Serena, AKA Agatha Mosheim, lodged an overblown complaint with the police. One that put her on their problem citizen list.

  “Get out of my store. And don’t you dare come back. Get out!”