by Claire Marta
“You’re all really focused on what John bought, aren’t you? I’m not quite sure how its linked to his death, but you’re the detectives. I’m sure there’s some ulterior motive.”
“Yeah,” Fergus agreed with a serious expression. “We can’t really tell you anything about it, right now, though, Ellen.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” she assured them, self-consciously playing with the messy end of her mousy-haired ponytail. “I’m just excited to help out anyway I can. Can’t wait to get my hands back on those old books, to be honest.”
Bracing for the discomfort of return to such a small windowless room, Eric focused on his target. Jasmine bent over the dusty table, her pert arse on display through her cotton shorts, heaving books aside. The very thought of taking her from behind across it had him adjusting his cock into a more comfortable position in his pants. It was such a tempting sight.
Unable to help himself. Eric moved closer. “Do you want me to bend you over the table and fuck you senseless?” His voice a deep husky rumble. “Just say the word, my lovely, and I will be more than willing to oblige you.”
Head whipping around, Jasmine scrambled to face him. Her lips parted; her eyes dilated at his comment. The thought turned her on. He could see that clearly. Had she had such fantasies herself? They were ones he’d happily accommodate. Perhaps, it was something he should consider. So far, his attempts to soften her affections towards him were going too slowly.
“You try touch me again in a sexual way and I swear I’ll kick you so hard in the balls you’ll need surgery to have them freed again.” Tossing her head, she snatched up some books before storming off towards a bookcase.
Eric hid his grin. She’d been feisty before, but he enjoyed this new fire she was showing. It was a side to her he’d rarely glimpsed. One that sent his blood pumping and his fangs itching to sink within her supple, nubile flesh. His cock swelled harder at the thought of rough make up sex. Oh, it would be exhilarating.
He’d always thrived on challenges. Coaxing Jasmine into something more sweeter and satisfying was now his aim.
“Fergus is checking your equipment, but he said for us to make a start.” Framed in the doorway, Ellen appeared.
“If you could just tell us what the professor last purchased, we can work back from there.” Jasmine rubbed her hands together to remove the dirt carrying her load had left.
“Sure, I can.” Moving across the room, the nanny eased herself down into one of the chairs behind the dusty desk. Running her index finger down the page, she stopped to tap it under a scribble. “A Sumerian ceremonial dagger. It was supposed to have belonged to a priestess. John was also looking for a box, but I am not sure if that was from the same era.”
“Do you have a photo?” Eric inquired politely as he took a seat beside her.
With determination, she pawed through a pile of papers with photographs attached, which were covered in cobwebs. “Yes, we took one for every item he bought.”
“Do you know where he kept all these?” Jasmine claimed the other free chair.
Ellen’s expression crumpled with disappointment. “No. Not the physical items… I assumed in a safe, hidden somewhere. He never confided in me. John, had his secrets just as everyone does.” Leafing out a photo she handed it to her.
“It looks expensive.” Jasmine examined it closely.
Eric knew she was noting the jewels that were encrusted in the length of the metal. The handle looked as if it’d been carved from gold. It was magnificent workmanship.
“The legend attached to it says it was owned by the royal Sumerian family. A text I read said the kings were immortal demigods. I suppose it was easier to control your subjects back then if you made up an impressive blood line,” Ellen explained, fumbling to adjust the thick glasses perched on her nose.
Eric didn’t look surprised. In fact, the half-smile that curled the edge of his lips was more than telling.
It made Jasmine wonder how many ancient rulers had been supernaturals. Eric had told her once that the ancient Pharaohs had been Vampiria. Born vampires just like he was.
“So, it was for ceremonial purposes?” The magic she sensed before was growing. It was a nexus of energies now. Whatever was happening here was affecting more than just the ghosts and werewolves.
“We hadn’t gotten any further in our investigations,” Ellen confided to her with a frustrated sigh. “A lot of the things John bought had really gruesome tales to them. He was so in awe of the history and lore. He once bought a bunch of stuff from a castle near Transylvania, which were supposed to have mystical powers based on a local tale.”
“You had a crush on him, didn’t you?” Jasmine hadn’t missed the starry-eyed look the other woman had every time she mentioned the professor. It’d been more than a working relationship. At least on the nanny’s side. Love was something she’d seen many times before, and Ellen had been in deep with her dead employer.
“He was thirty-five years older than me, but he was still in his prime, even at sixty.” Ellen sighed as sadness settled over her features. “He had a brilliant mind.”
“I am sure he’d be proud that your helping us out now.”
“Do you really think so?”
Smiling, Jasmine patted her hand. “Yes, I do.”
“Could this be causing all the trouble?” Ellen asked flustered as she changed the subject. Staring down at the photo, she tapped her finger on picture of the dagger.
“We’ve come across items that have...certain influences, before,” Jasmine wondered how much she should impart. “But I have a feeling everything we’re experiencing is somehow linked.”
“Are you talking about magic?”
“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever we are left with, however improbable, must be the answer.” Eric broke his silence beside them.
“You sound just like Sherlock Holmes.” Ellen giggled nervously.
“Ah, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. He indeed was a fascinating man and very insightful in several cases he assisted me with,” Eric told them. His eyes lit with delight at the mention of the fictional detective.
“He lived in the eighteen hundreds,” Ellen gave the vampire a strange look. “You can’t possibly have met him. Your what, thirty-five?”
“Don’t ask,” Jasmine sighed, knowing the woman had no clue she was sitting next to an immortal. “But yes, believe it or not magic does exist.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lamp in the corner flicker. It was inconsequential at first. Just tiny breaks. A flutter as they worked. Then, each beat became longer, breaking the flow.
“I think that bulb needs changing,” Ellen remarked, looking up from the book she’d gone back to pouring over. “That’s really getting irritating.”
Sixth sense tingling through her skull, Jasmine shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”
Beyond the hidden room, the sound of the K2 meters starting to beep could be heard throughout the building. Jasmine knew Fergus would man the laptop, now. Whatever was setting them off, they’d want to try and capture on video.
A creaking started. Head snapping in the sound’s direction, Jasmine forgot to breath for a second as she found the source. An old wooden rocking chair was swaying to and fro. The oak framed rocker looked as if it had seen better days. Upholstery worn and shabby, the curved gliders had several chips.
“Tha...that’s moving on its own, isn’t it...I’m not going crazy?” Ellen stuttered.
“Indeed, it is.” Calm as ever Eric sat beside them, observing the whole event with a look of clinical interest. “Jasmine, are you sensing anything?”
“Yes, something’s here,” She confirmed. The atmosphere in the room was changing. It felt as if the place had become packed tightly with forms she couldn’t see. It felt claustrophobic. Overcrowded. Gripping the edge of the table top, Jasmine took a second to breathe through the discomfort.
A vivid shimmering haze thickened around them. Figures began to take shape
. Jasmine watched, fascinated, as more than a dozen spirits began to become more tangible. Eyes black as wells, their mouths hung open in silent screams. Some were even trying to talk. Lips moving soundlessly, translucent hands were out in a gesture of beseeching.
The closest she could make out clearly was a young woman in white. Mournful eyes locked on Jasmine’s. Her neck was at an odd angle. Around her discoloured throat hung a thick rope noose.
Behind her, the ghost children who’d spooked her in the bathroom were huddled together in the back. Bony arms wound around each other’s waists as if they sought comfort.
“There’s so many of them here,” Jasmine whispered on a shaky breath. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that these spectres were absent of colour. As if where ever they were leached it from the very fabric of their being. Or maybe, it simply didn’t exist when you were dead.
“What are they doing?” Scrapping the legs of her chair closer to Eric, the nanny huddled into his manly side.
“Watching us,” Jasmine responded as she saw the vampire’s look of surprise. Gently, he tucked the other woman reassuringly under his sturdy arm at her obvious fright.
“Oh God, I can’t do this. I have to get out of here,” Ellen whined from her masculine haven. “After what happened at the séance, I’m not sure I can face this a second time.”
“I don’t think they want to hurt us,” Jasmine assured them. Searching the crowd, she could see the ones distorted at the rear. As if they didn’t have the energy to form as solidly as some of the rest.
“How can you be sure?” the Ellen persisted. She’d moved, now practically sitting in Eric’s lap. Grasping his shirt, she crawled up his muscular frame until she could wrap her arms around his neck to hug him.
“They’ve been leaving me messages.”
“That’s kind of creepy?”
“And what exactly did they say,” Eric intervened, his expression sharp and alert. Spearing Jasmine with a look, his annoyance flashed in the depth of his stare.
“She’s coming...I’ve also heard those words in my dreams,” Jasmine responded blandly, trying not to feel guilty.
“Perhaps you should not have kept this to yourself,” Eric announced grimly as he tried to untangle himself from the freaked-out female on his lap.
“I told Mark, and if he hasn’t shared that with you, it’s not my fault, He’s the boss, not you.”
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know...why are there so many here?” There were more ghosts than she’d sensed before. They seemed to be congregating all at once in the small space.
“I’ve read ghosts can be attached to things from their human lives,” Ellen squeaked as she reluctantly complied with Eric’s silent request to return to her own seat.
“If that is indeed true, then we are sitting among a wealth of such objects. Each one inside the museum must come with its own past.” Blue eyes narrowed, Eric’s keen gaze wandered the room as if he were trying his damnedest to see what she could see too.
Jasmine sensed a shifting in the air before she saw it. The mood changed through the watchers in a ripple of awareness. She felt their anxiety flash through the space as if it were her own. Mouth twisting in silent agony, one of the males at the back ravaged features contorted. Bending irregularly, sideways, he clawed at the others around him in pleading before he exploded. Green globules scattered, floating in different directions. The only indication he’d ever been there.
“Something’s happening,” Jasmine told them slowly. Their fear was suddenly off the charts. Whatever had now joined them left the spirits fleeing in its wake.
“What do you mean?” Ellen peeked over the rim of her glasses, eyes impossibly wide in her round pale face.
Pushing up onto her feet, Jasmine’s chair crashed to the ground with her wild movement. “They look like they’re in pain. Some of them are vanishing, but not in the way they materialized.” Helplessly, she watched as more were cut down. Screams soundless, their hands were raised in mercy.
A streak of black and purple appeared out of nowhere. Even though the form was only hazy, Jasmine recognised Della, who had been inhabiting her dreams.
“There being attacked.” Anger pulsed through her words. Why was she doing this? They hadn’t harmed anyone. If anything, they’d been asking for help. So why was this angel now slaughtering them?
“By what?”
“An angel assassin,” she explained, not bothering to meet the nanny’s questioning look.
“Do you know how farfetched that sounds?”
“As crazy as ghosts?” Jasmine didn’t need them to believe her. She knew, though, she couldn’t let this go ignored. These beings needed help, dead or not.
“And how precisely do you know their assailant is an angel?” Eric enquired as he carefully rose with grace from his own chair. Angling his dark head to the side, he fixed her with an expression that brooked no lies.
“She’s been in my dreams the last few nights.” Admitting it begrudgingly, Jasmine knew it was going to come out sooner or later. “I’ve talked to her.”
“Keeping these things from me is unacceptable, Jasmine. How am I supposed to protect you if you do not share information with me?” the vampire was unable to hide his stern annoyance.
“You don’t have to protect me, Eric. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. Besides, how are you going to defend me from my own dreams, hmm?” Her reply was sardonic. “I wish we could just talk to them clearly and see what they want. I can’t shake the feeling, whatever it is, that it’s important.”
“Perhaps it is time we try to find out. Maybe another séance is in order,” The lines of his big body were taut with whatever emotion he was reining in.
“Caroline won’t allow that,” Ellen piped in.
Jasmine considered their options for a moment. “Couldn’t we do it when she’s out of the house?”
“Possibly. She hasn’t been going out much lately, though. That’s the problem. She’s been suffering severely from migraines since her father died and rarely leaves the house.”
Watching the last of the spectres vanish into nothing but mist, Jasmine felt her hope fading with the other woman’s answer. A séance would take time. If they wanted to find answers, they’d need enough to find a connection with anyone willing to talk to them. The Medium would also have to be convinced to return. That might not be an easy task after the last time.
“Perhaps Detective Cummings can arrange something.”
Jasmine nodded at Eric as she watched globs of floating echo plasma drift upwards like chunks of pollen caught in the wind. “We can ask.”
Trooping back into the living-room with Eric and Ellen in tow, Jasmine couldn’t get the image of the ghosts out of her head. Yes, they’d been terrifying as fuck, but there’d also been something sad and forlorn about them. If they were asking for help, could they give it? They we’re dead, after all. How did you help someone who didn’t have a physical form?
“Do not touch that.” Eric’s scolding voice snapped her from her thoughts. “It is not a toy, but a very expensive piece of equipment.”
Tabitha was turning one of the K2 meters over and over in her tiny hands with a curious innocence. Her small frame jumped at the strength of his tone. Head bowed, her wavy hair covered her face as her wide round eyes peered up through the tawny locks in fear.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jasmine called as the child dropped the black box on the table and scurried away in fright. “You didn’t need to tell her off like that. She was just curious,” she muttered, turning on the vampire. “She’s only a child.”
“This equipment is no doubt costly for your department. I was only trying to help,” he replied tautly.
“Well, next time, let me deal with it. Now you’ve just scared her.”
“Eric your turn monitoring the laptop,” Fergus cut in as he appeared in the doorway, stretching his shoulders. “That shit just went off the charts for a while.”
“Yeah, we know
. We had a visit in the hidden room,” Jasmine scooped up the box the girl had been playing with. Nothing was broken. Tabitha had obviously just wondered what they were for. It was something Jasmine knew she’d have done herself in the same situation.
“You guys okay? What did they want?”
“I think they we’re asking for help, but they were interrupted before they could actually ask.” Carefully, she placed the device back in its correct position.
“Jasmine believes some sort of angel is interfering,” Eric’s tone was quiet.
Was he annoyed she’d reprimanded him over Tabitha? She couldn’t tell from his appearance. Once more, it was blank of any reactions. Not even his eyes gave any inkling of what he was feeling.
Jasmine felt a swirl of annoyance. How could he shut them on and off like he had a switch? It wasn’t human. Then again, he’d never been mortal. He’d admitted to her himself Vampiria’s –born vampires– were a secret breed living alongside mankind. How could he have the same emotions she did?
It was why she didn’t trust him. Eric always played a part. Adapted to the situation he was in and took on the fitting persona. The perfect villain, attentive partner, possessive Dom, she’d seen them all. Eric, just as Eric, was something she rarely glimpsed.
Fergus showed his confusion. “An angel?”
“I’ll explain when everyone’s here,” she told him, pushing her angry thoughts aside.
“I shall go and check on the laptop, then.” With a courteous bow, the vampire stalked from the room without a backward glance. If his ego was bruised, he wasn’t showing it.
Some tiny perverse side of Jasmine took pleasure that she infuriated him. If he thought he was going to be some kind of knight in shining armour, sweeping into her life, then now, he was fully aware she didn’t need saving.
“You’re warming to him.”
“No.” Jasmine couldn’t help snort at Fergus’s statement.