As a matter of fact, while I was having my after-interview with Gaudet, Luc was speaking to Thibeau, and he had given us the information that he suspected Emmanuel was Abel’s son, making him their father’s half-brother and technically next in line to inherit Abel’s estate. Since that was never going to happen, seeing as how Emmanuel’s mother, Camille, was African American and the old man had been racist, old fashioned, and politically somewhere to the right of Genghis Khan, it was motive enough for our suspicions about the Dubois to solidify into a theory. They killed Abel in anger over the inheritance.
Though as far as I could tell, there wasn’t much of an estate to inherit—the house, which was in a bad state of disrepair, and the land that went with it, plus some antiques, but it probably wouldn’t add up to all that much. There was that diamond, the De Lys diamond, but Abel Delessard had, apparently, been having it cut into pieces for some time and sold. No one seemed to know if there were any pieces left or if so, where they might be.
Still, being recognized in the will as Abel’s son and receiving the house and its contents would be more than Emmanuel had ever had from his father. That’s why Luc and I decided it was probably more about anger at being treated like a servant all those years and then finding out that they were going to be completely passed over in the will that made him and his mother commit murder. It was all about anger and greed—the most common motives.
I still had questions, though. There were things that continued to nag at me about both those cases and, more importantly, those two families, the Delessards and the Gaudets. And then there was that major question about Sophie’s husband, Christophe. Where the hell was he? He’d just vanished off the face of the Earth, like he’d been fucking abducted by aliens or something. Neither Luc nor I had been able to find a trace of him anywhere, and we checked every few weeks. There was something I was missing, and it was driving me crazy.
None of that seemed to make a bit of difference in how much I wanted to see Rafe again. I’d been fighting it. Sometimes, he was all I could think about. I thought it would get better with time, but so far it hadn’t. I’d been tempted to stop by the bar to see him, but we hadn’t left things on a good note that morning he’d rushed out of my apartment in a snit. Over the last few months, I’d been having a continuing argument with myself about whether to go see him or just let it go.
Usually, I managed to talk myself into leaving things the way they were for a number of reasons. Even though his grandfather’s murder had been solved, removing any hint of conflict of interest, and neither Rafe, nor any of his family, were involved, I still had that feeling that he knew more than he was telling, and it bothered me. He had secrets. I knew it; I could feel it, and if he was hiding something, how could I trust him? How could a cop have a relationship with somebody he couldn’t trust?
Another thing, and this was a big one for me—I was way too attracted to him and that scared the hell out of me. I could tell that it wouldn’t take long for me to be in over my head. He was beautiful and flirty and too young for me. Even though it was only an eleven-year age difference, there was a big difference in being twenty-four and thirty-five. At thirty-five I was staring forty in the face, and I was tired of the whole hook-up scene. I was through playing around, but was he? I wasn’t sure I would’ve been when I was twenty-four. He might say he was ready to settle down and then change his mind six months later. By that time, I’d be so far into the relationship that it would just about kill me to lose him.
But what was I supposed to do? I never actually went anywhere or did anything to meet new people. Oh, occasionally I met somebody, or more like one of my friends tried to fix me up, but nobody had interested me. Lately, I’d actually been considering one of those dating websites. I’d always laughed at people who did that and said how pathetic it was—now, not so much.
So, the decision was made—I’d leave Rafe alone. There was no point in exploring a relationship with him. I’d made up my mind, and I needed to be firm about it, no matter how much I wanted to see him. And then, out of the blue, he’d called. Now what?
****
Rafe
I ended the call with Gage and threw my phone down. It started ringing immediately just like I knew it would. I looked down and saw Gage’s name on the caller ID so I ignored it. He called three more times before giving up, and I didn’t know if I was happy or sad about that. He might just write me off as crazy, and I didn’t want that, but at the same time, I couldn’t tell him how I’d been able to see Emmanuel so clearly, either. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a lot of faith in my psychic abilities.
I was frustrated that I couldn’t tell Gage the truth about myself and my family without him running as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction, but really, what did that matter now? It had been four months, and I hadn’t heard a word from him, but I’d never quit hoping. I knew somehow that we were supposed to be together. I don’t know how I knew it—though I could see other things, I’d never been able to see my own future or that of anyone close to me—but I felt it very strongly. So, I waited. For four fucking months. And nothing.
Not a goddamn word. I could have cast a spell to make him want me and believe me, I thought about it—a lot. Love spells were fairly easy to do, but I didn’t want him that way. There was a chemistry between us that was a magic all its own, and I wanted that, for him to recognize that we were meant to be together without me doing anything to compel him.
I sighed. I was restless and unsettled being in the house alone, especially ever since the night I had seen Emmanuel. It had been an ordinary night, just before dusk, and I hadn’t been thinking of much of anything except the weather as I stood by the window. I wanted to see if it looked like rain. Then over by the trees at the back of the property, a tall figure suddenly appeared out of the shadows. I recognized him at once as Emmanuel. Not so much with my physical eyes but I just knew it was him. It’s hard to explain, but I could feel his presence.
I mean I could literally feel his gaze burning into me. His eyes, which had been an odd color of green, had freaked me out as a kid. Not the color, so much—it was nice enough. But the way he could stare at a person, especially me and my brother and sister, like he hated us. We were just little kids, so I never understood that level of antipathy, but it was real enough. I guessed then that he hated kids, but now I knew that he hated us because we had taken what he thought was his rightful inheritance. Even then, I had feelings about things, and when Emmanuel looked at me, it was like he was stabbing me with his gaze.
I didn’t think he could see me—the room behind me was dark. A chill swept through me, nonetheless. The thing that freaked me out the most was that he was so solid. Nothing ethereal about him, like most of the ghosts I had seen. No wispy bits around him—just an unrelenting air of malevolence.
Then, just last night, I’d seen him again—this time on Camille’s front porch. Camille and Emmanuel had lived in a small groundskeeper’s house in the backyard. He was sitting on the edge of the porch, like I’d seen him do a million times—and he was staring at the house again.
I took a quick step back, shook my head to dispel the vision and looked again, and he was...gone. Just disappeared. I wondered if I had seen his ghost, but again, he’d looked so solid and real. I admit I was freaked out, and that’s why I’d called Gage to check and make sure Emmanuel was really dead and buried.
I suddenly missed my family, and I needed to talk to Beau, like I always did when I was upset. I picked up my phone and looked at the time. It was still early enough to call. I pulled his name up in my contacts and clicked on it. He answered in the middle of the second ring.
“Rafe, hi. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just needed to talk. I guess I was feeling a little lonely. This is a big old house when you’re here all alone.”
“I know. It’s really bothered me to think of you there all by yourself, and I wish you’d taken me up on my offer to come with me to New York, but we s
hould be coming home soon. Nic told me today that he’s about through tying up the loose ends of the business up here.”
He paused for a second. “Listen, Rafe, I’ve been seriously thinking...you said something about selling the place. I was wondering if that’s what you still want us to do. I know Abel left the house to me in his will, but as far as I’m concerned, it belongs to all of us. I don’t have a lot of happy memories there, and I don’t think you do either, but if you want that house, then it’s yours. I know we’re not getting Sophie’s input on this, but I can’t imagine that she’d ever want to live there again after what happened to Christophe in that house. From what I can glean from the weekly reports that the doctor sends, she’s doing really well since she was transferred to that clinic in Switzerland, but it’s still going to be a long haul for her.”
“Yeah, that’s what I get from the reports, too. I’ve been meaning to thank you for forwarding them to me.”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“I miss her—hell, I even miss Christophe, and he was never one of my favorite people. Still, his death was horrible. I never would have wished something like that on him or anybody.”
Beau sighed. “I know, cher. Neither would I. So, what about the house?”
“I’d like to think about it, if that’s okay. I don’t think I hate it like you and Sophie do.”
“That’s fine. Take your time. Now, tell me about the detective.”
“What detective?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you think I didn’t notice the little, um, spark between the two of you? Have you called and talked to him? Give me some information here.”
I sighed. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since he came to tell us about Camille and Emmanuel until tonight.” I hesitated before continuing, trying to decide if I should tell my brother about seeing Emmanuel. The last few times I’d talked to Beau, he’d sounded happy, and I didn’t want to worry him. It had been way too long since I’d heard that contentment in his voice, and I didn’t want to spoil it.
I didn’t get a chance to decide because Beau spoke into the silence. “Tonight? Tell me what’s going on, Rafe. Something’s wrong. I can feel it. What is it?”
I took a deep breath and launched into it. “Okay. Gage, Detective Arceneau, and I had a fight on the phone earlier—well, maybe not a fight, but a definite argument. Damn, that man can piss me off.”
Beau laughed. “I understand, believe me.” I could just see him rolling his eyes as he probably thought about how much he and Nic bickered back and forth. “What was this argument about?”
“I called him because…”
“Because?”
“Beau, is Nic there with you?”
“Yes.” I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“Okay, then, you need to put your phone on speaker, because I think he needs to hear this, too.”
“Okay, I got the speaker on, and we’re both here, so go ahead.”
“Hi, Nic.”
“Hello, Rafe. What’s up?”
“I called Gage Arceneau tonight, because I’ve been seeing Emmanuel in the backyard near the woods and at Camille’s cottage.
“You what?”
“I know it sounds nuts. But I’m sure it’s him.”
“Emmanuel’s dead. Are you saying you’ve seen his spirit?”
“Well, I don’t know. It was a solid figure, and that’s not usually how I see a spirit. I called Gage to ask if he was sure that Emmanuel was dead, because the man I’ve seen looks so real.”
“And what did Arceneau say?”
“He said that the coroner had made a positive identification. There was an autopsy and everything. So, I told him that I’d seen him a couple of times, and he said that was impossible, that it was probably just some vagrant who’d wandered onto the property from the woods. He said that I might be imagining that the guy looked like Emmanuel, because I’d been under a lot of stress lately what with the three deaths and Sophie having a breakdown—like I might be unstable. But that’s not it. It’s him. It’s Emmanuel, but...different in a way it’s hard to describe. I can feel him—somewhere close, but not in the house.”
Beau spoke up. “Do you do think it’s his ghost?”
“I don’t know. Now that I’m telling you, I think it has to be, even though he feels like a living, breathing person. When I saw him, I could tell that he looked like Emmanuel, but I couldn’t really see him all that well because he was too far away. I thought maybe it was his ghost come back to haunt me, and I just ignored it. The second time, I studied him more closely because I didn’t exactly get the feeling of a spirit.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. It was Emmanuel, though. No question. But I don’t know if he was a ghost or not. Do you believe me?”
“Of course, I do, Rafe. I know how good you are at the whole psychic thing, not to mention scrying, so I don’t doubt you saw him clearly. If you still say it was Emmanuel, then it must be his ghost, because Emmanuel is well and truly dead.”
I held on while I heard him tell Nic that our grandfather had given me a black obsidian bowl when I was about four or five years old and began teaching me how to scry. He said that pretty soon I was putting all of them to shame—that it was my special talent in the craft, that and being able to see and feel spirits.
Nic spoke to me then. “This worries me. Why is he haunting you? Are you all right? Do we need to come down there now? I can cast a spell to get rid of spirits if I need to. Or I could send Gabriel, though he’s been hard to get in touch with lately. Something’s going on with him. Anyway, we can come sooner if you need us.”
“Not now. I’m fine. I can cast my own spell for that matter. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“Okay, but if something happens and you need some backup in a hurry, call Gabriel. Whatever—or I should say whoever—he’s doing can be put on hold. We’ll be home soon.”
I made a face at the suggestion of contacting Gabriel. I’d always found him to be a smart-ass and annoying as hell. And I suspected, vice versa. We just seemed to get on each other’s nerves.
“I will.”
Beau came back on then. “Hey, give the detective a break. This is confusing to us, and we know your capabilities. He probably just doesn’t understand your powers yet.”
I huffed a sound. “He doesn’t even know I have powers.”
He laughed and said, “Well, hell. You know, if you want to have a relationship with this man, you’re going to have to tell him. And soon. Couldn’t you just have found a nice witch to be attracted to?” I could hear Nic chuckling in the background before Beau said, “I love you, little brother. Call us if you need us.”
“I will. I love you, too, and thank you both for believing me.” My brother always knew how to make me feel better, and I’d needed that tonight. I ended the call and from out of nowhere, Loki pounced on me and curled up in my lap. I let him rub his face against mine and turned my thoughts back to Gage. Somehow I needed to speak to him face to face. But I still needed him to make the first move.
I lay awake in the dark a long time that night when I went to bed, listening to the sounds an old house makes at night, as the heat of the day leaches off and creaks and groans from the old boards sound throughout the house. Most nights they never bothered me, but this time I listened extra hard, as I thought about the things that had happened within those walls. Abel’s murder, and Christophe’s horrible transformation and then his agonizing death. As a witch, I wasn’t afraid of much, but as I finally slipped into a troubled sleep that night, nightmares came calling. I was glad when dawn finally arrived.
Chapter Five
Gage
I’d tried to call Rafe for two days, and he didn’t answer the phone, so I called the bar, hoping to catch him there. That was one phone he had to answer. Unfortunately, it was his off day, and he wasn’t scheduled to come back to work until the following d
ay. Damn it.
I tried his cell again. Still, no answer. He was starting to piss me off. I hadn’t said anything that bad, for God’s sake. He was acting like a spoiled child, and I was fed up with it. On the one hand, I was about to say fuck it, but on the other, the cop in me was beginning to get worried. What if something had happened to him? I didn’t for one minute believe that he was seeing Emmanuel Dubois in his backyard, but I did believe that he was seeing someone. What if that person had broken into the house and…
Oh, hell, no. I wouldn’t let myself go there. The thought of someone entering that creepy old mausoleum and Rafe being there all alone and hurt, or worse, made me sick. I looked over at Luc. “It’s pretty quiet right now, so I think I’ll leave a little early. I’ve got something I need to take care of. If something comes in and you need me, just call.”
Luc looked over at me and said, “No problem.”
Being a cop, I knew that I needed to let somebody know where I was going, just in case, and Luc was the person I’d trust with my life. “I’m going to ride out to Ravenwood and check on things.”
He gave me a smirk. “What things? That case is closed. Is there a problem out there that I don’t know about?”
“No, it’s just that…” He quirked an eyebrow at me when I hesitated. I’d already confessed my interest in Rafe over a beer a few weeks before. He’d told me I was being stupid about the age thing and to just go for it. After the investigation was over, of course.
“Okay,” I continued. “So Rafe called me the other night, and we had an argument. He hung up on me, and I’ve been calling his phone for two days, but he isn’t answering.”
“Did you ever think that maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you? I’d say he’s probably still pissed about whatever you had the argument about. You know, you’re not always as charming as you think you are.” He chuckled, very pleased with himself.
Haunted (Witches of the Big Easy Book 3) Page 5