“The EMT guy who worked on Cait!” Mina said.
“You see that? Somebody else is up here,” Cait said.
“We sure about that? Booger, Clayton!” Sam’s voice rang loudly.
“We’re watching the feed,” came Clayton’s faint voice from a distance. “We’ve already got some great stuff. Orbs, that round smudge Madame Xavier saw.”
“Shush, the only one who can hear you is me,” Cait hissed.
“Uh, who were you talking to?” Mina asked, turning to Cait.
Cait shrugged. “I forget.”
“Seriously, you’re gonna sing that?” Then a beat later, “Sylvia, this is not the place!”
Booger, Mina, and Clayton leveled their stares on her.
Me and my big mouth. The last thing she wanted them to know was that she talked to spirits. But how could she explain away her words? She lifted her shoulders and stared again at the screen. “What did you want me to see?”
Mina glared and hit play again.
“You feel? Can you feel me? That tickled.”
“I didn’t touch you,” Jason said, giving her a quick look.
“Wasn’t talking to you.”
“She still there?” he whispered.
“Sharpie-outlined lips and all.”
The feed stopped again.
Clayton stepped around the chair to stare down like an inquisitor. “Cait, you’re a medium too? You’re talking to her. Sylvia Reyes. You see her. Oh. My. God. Do you realize what this means?”
Cait gave him her meanest glare. “Not a thing, because if you ever air that part, I’ll come after you.”
“I’ll say. And TMI, by the way,” the Cait with the huge mouth in the recording continued.
Cait groaned as more of the one-sided conversation continued.
The camera work got jumpier, the picture jerking, because Mina was getting either jostled or overexcited.
Down the hall, Madame Xavier fluttered her fingers. “I’ve never seen a spirit that dense or large,” she said as she squinted toward them.
A damning, too-long second later. “You’re growing on me, Syl.”
Just as the psychic reached the opening to the other hallway, Cait heard herself shout, “Madame Xavier, come back!”
“I told her not to go within twenty feet of that hall,” Sam muttered.
Thankfully, the recording halted.
“That’s all we have on that part,” Mina said, “but I spliced in the feed from the static camera I had set on a tripod. Watch this.”
No nauseating jerking going on with this part of the tape. A pop sounded as a bulb flared then exploded in the ceiling in the haunted hallway. The taped-off door swung open. A sudden brightness consumed the picture.
Mina stopped the recording again to fiddle with a dial on her console, and the brightness dimmed a notch to show the bright light was a bolt of electricity arcing like a whip out the door.
Madame Xavier turned her head to glance over one shoulder. Her hands jerked up, her back straightening away. “Oh my Lord,” she was heard to say a moment before another whip of light lashed out, wrapped around her wrist, and then pulled back, whisking her off her feet and through the door, which then slammed shut.
Mina hit reverse again, stopping on the slamming door. Then she slowed the recording so they could watch the scene progress, one frame at a time. The opened wall was visible, but liquefying and forming a circle that turned, the center sucking inward, forming a funnel with Madame Xavier’s large body folded in the center, her waving hands near her wiggling feet, the moment she was sucked through.
Three gazes swung from the screen and landed on Cait.
She blew out a breath and met theirs, knowing they deserved an explanation. They’d faced the monster and had lost a comrade. “You were right about this being a demonic haunting,” she said quietly. “He lives in the walls. This hotel has been his killing field. And you’ve found the point of conflux.”
“I knew it!” Clayton punched a fist into the air then jerked it close to his body. “Yes!”
Booger cleared his throat. “If he’s in the walls, can he see us here?”
“I’m not sure. But he knows we’re on to him.”
“Is it safe to be here?” Mina whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper. He’s fed intermittently, over decades. The fact he’s killed twice in just a few days might have drained him. I’m assuming he expends a lot of energy to do that,” Cait said, waving at the screenshot of him sucking Madame Xavier into a vortex.
“While his energy field is low, Booger could do an exorcism,” Clayton said.
Cait shook her head. “I have it on good authority that an exorcism won’t destroy him. He’ll simply move on to another place.”
“Then what can be done?”
“I don’t know. But you’ve been helpful. I needed confirmation that was the spot, although how the bodies were moved from there to other parts of this floor, I don’t know. I suppose he could simply have carried them around when he was in human form, opened a wall, and hidden them.”
“He has a human form?” Clayton’s eyebrows rose. “We could interview him.”
Cait rolled her eyes. “Just because he might not be able to whip up a sucking vortex doesn’t mean he won’t be dangerous. If you corner him into an interview, he will likely still be deadly. Besides, we don’t know who he is.”
Clayton chewed on his bottom lip, then let it go. “So, what’s the next step?”
“Nothing. For you.” She had to credit their enthusiasm. “Your part’s done.”
“But you’re off the investigation,” Booger said, shrugging when she gave him a glare. “You don’t have your usual resources now. Use us.”
She shook her head and pushed up from the chair. “Oh no. You saw what happened to your friend.”
“There’s got to be something we can do,” Booger said. “We could help you with research.”
“I already have my sources.” She shuddered inwardly at the thought of facing Morin without Sam at her side.
“We could stay here,” Mina said. “Keep the cameras going. Let you know if anything changes.”
Cait hesitated, but then slowly nodded. “So long as you all promise me you won’t try to go poking around that hallway.”
Clayton sketched a cross over his heart. “We’ll stay well away from the point of conflux. Can’t start a TV career if we’re sucked in too.”
“I guess you guys could be useful.” As the thought formed, she nodded. “As guests, you can roam the ground floor. Mina, get some shots around the foyer, the dining room, and the bar. If you see anything or anyone who looks or acts odd when you play it back, let me know.”
Mina gave her a solemn nod.
Cait reached into her pocket and drew out her wallet. She handed Clayton her card. “Call me first, but let Sam know as well. If anything goes down, he can’t be left out of the loop.”
“Sure. You first. Sam the very next second,” Clayton said.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Cait tiptoed to the bathroom and nodded before closing the door just enough to conceal herself.
Door locks clicked.
“Cait, you done here?” Jason’s voice sounded from the doorway.
She stepped out and gave him a nod. “The coast clear?”
“For about a minute.” He opened the door, peeked out, then waved her through.
Five minutes later in the parking garage, she huddled on the floorboard of his car as he drove past the parking booth.
“We’re clear.”
She shot up and buckled into the passenger seat. “The feed was pretty interesting.”
“Wish I’d had time to watch,” he muttered.
Cait angled her body toward him. “The wall liquefied and began to spin, like that old Time Tunnel show my dad used to watch in reruns. Sucked poor Madame Xavier right through.”
“So we know where, just not who yet.”
Cait tapped the dashboard with her
palm. “There has to be a way to expose a demon.”
“Thinking you need to work another spell?”
“Or find something I can use to see him?” Cait shrugged. “I really don’t know.”
“Need a trip to Morin’s?”
Cait thought hard about what needed to happen next. “Not Morin’s. Not yet. I really need to speak to Sam. He has to bend on this, or someone else will die.”
“From what you said, he might not be willing to listen. And if he knows you went behind his back to see those guys…”
She slumped in her seat. “He needs me. Doesn’t he know that?”
When he darted a glance her way, Jason’s gaze softened. “He loves you, Cait. He doesn’t want to see you dead.”
“I’m not an idiot. I really don’t think Eddie wanted to feed me to his master.” Her hand waved in the air. “More like he wanted me for himself. Wanted a companion.”
“That makes me feel all better,” he muttered. “Do you think he’s still alive? Still working the hotel?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t a clue, but I imagine he’s too valuable to destroy. Without Eddie to pick his vics, the demon in the walls has to depend on chance to get the right prospect into the room. He likes bimbos.” Her chest tightened. “Madame Xavier wouldn’t have been taken if we hadn’t focused so much attention on 323. We made the demon nervous, and he lashed out like a cornered beast.”
“Well, it’s pretty late. Not sure what more we can accomplish. Ready to call it a night?”
She glanced at her watch, shocked to see how late it was. “Yeah, we should both rest.”
“I’ll drop you at your place.”
“No, take me to Sam’s.”
Jason shot her a glance. “You sure? He hasn’t had time to cool off.”
“I can’t take the waiting, wondering if he meant it. I have to talk to him, and he needs to know about what I just saw.”
Jason whistled softly through pursed lips. “You’ll be digging yourself a bigger hole.”
“Maybe. Or perhaps I’ll let him blow hot, spank my ass, and he might let us come back.”
Jason’s nose wrinkled. “Didn’t need that picture in my head.”
Cait smiled, her pulse kicking up a beat at her own words.
“If he lets you back, you won’t be calling the shots.”
“I don’t have to be in charge.”
“So you said.” His mouth curved into a wry grin.
Cait sat back, closing her eyes for the rest of the trip, conserving her energy for the battle to come.
The doorbell rang, and Sam had a sinking feeling about who waited on his stoop. He rolled out of bed, padded from his bedroom into the living room, and headed straight to the front door.
Without checking the peephole, he swung the door wide. “Cait, what are you doing here?”
She didn’t wait for an invitation. She ducked under his arm and squeezed through into his living room. “We have to talk,” she said, sounding breathless.
“I’ve said all I’m going to say,” he said, keeping his voice even, his face schooled into a neutral mask. But the truth was he was relieved to see her. Being here meant she wasn’t trying to sneak back into the hotel despite his orders to the contrary.
He slammed the door and then leaned against it, slowly folding his arms over his naked chest. If only he’d worn something more substantial than thin cotton boxers. He needed layers to mask his immediate and inconveniently reliable reaction to her proximity.
“We have to talk,” she repeated, beginning to shed her thin leather jacket. “I can’t leave things the way they were.”
“Things, Cait? The investigation or us?” he asked, although he didn’t really want to know which came first with her. When it came to a case, she was like a dog guarding her favorite bone.
“Both.” She strode closer.
He stiffened—both his back and his cock. He concentrated, ruthlessly willing his body not to concede the battle before they’d even begun.
Her face tilted upward, solemn green eyes searching his face. “I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
“Tell the truth for once, Cait.” He shook his head. “You’re sorry I’m angry, but you don’t regret the risk you took.”
Her lips pursed, forming a pout. “I wasn’t sorry then. I had to know if it was him. But the moment the doors closed and I was safe, I realized just how much I’d almost lost. The experience scared me, and I thought I might die. Or that I might be trapped in the past and unable to see you for decades. I imagined myself skulking around playgrounds like a perv to watch you as you grew older.” She swallowed hard. “Waiting until you knew me before approaching you to say just how deeply sorry I was.”
Sam studied her face, the paleness of her skin, the moisture glinting in her eyes, and had no doubt everything she said was true. She was deeply sorry. Afraid—after the fact. But her apology wasn’t good enough. “You risked everything, risked us, so you could have your answers. We were partners in this, but you never read me in about your suspicions.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Not the point,” he said, anger causing his voice to rise and vibrate. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t get to decide what I need to know or when?”
Her eyebrows drew into a frown, and she turned away. “What do I have to do?”
“That is the point. It’s not something you can do.” His chest tightened. “Not something you’re willing to consider.”
“I won’t know unless you tell me.”
His fingers ached where he gripped his arms. “I shouldn’t have to. You should come to me, without any double-think, to run things by me. It should be instinctive. It is for me. You don’t consider me your friend, your ally. You think of me as…” He waved a hand in frustration. “I don’t know, someone you have to manipulate to get around.”
“I don’t.”
At his hot glare, her mouth closed.
“You’re so used to keeping secrets, to holding things close until you get too deep to dig yourself out alone, that you can’t imagine being a partner. For years, I followed your ass around, watching your back, cleaning up your messes. I can’t do it anymore. I quit.”
Cait’s face fell. A tear tracked down her cheek.
The urge to comfort her was strong, but if he caved now, she’d never learn. Never try to change. He’d stayed away a whole goddamn year to make her face her problem with the booze, hoping she’d choose sobriety and him.
Cait dropped to the arm of the couch, her gaze fixed on her hands, which she held together in front of her. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I don’t know how to change the way I think, or my overriding instincts.”
“I know that. But I no longer accept that just because that’s the way you’re wired, you can’t change it.”
Her tear-stained face rose. “I do love you.”
Sam blinked his eyes and glanced away. “That’s not the issue,” he said, betraying the ragged edge of his emotions in the texture of his voice.
“I quit drinking for you.”
Sam sucked in a sharp breath and nailed her with a hard glance. “Gimme a break. Breaking with booze wasn’t all for me. The moment you stepped back into the magic, you knew you had to keep a clear head.”
“But the moment the crisis was over, I didn’t go searching for a bottle to celebrate either.” Her chin jutted. “I’ve kept clean because I need you in my life more than I need a drink. I can change. I have.”
Sam considered what she said, heard the strength, the pride in her voice. The underlying plea for another chance.
With a sudden move, she pushed off the sofa arm. “You have to practice something to make it habit. I just don’t think I’ve made telling you everything, as soon as it happens, a habit. But I can change this too. I promise I can.”
Not “I’ll try,” he noted. Something he wouldn’t have accepted. His gaze remained on her, resting on the only person on the planet he’d ever hav
e given so many chances. He wondered if he was a fool. A fool in love. But the thought of not being in her world, even if she failed at this, was unimaginable, because he’d worry every minute of every day that she’d step into another elevator with an incubus.
His breath and his anger left him in a long exhale. “You look wrecked.”
“I’m tired. Sad,” she added in a whisper.
“We should both get some sleep.”
“You’ll have to call me a taxi. Jason dropped me off.”
His gaze narrowed.
Cait winced, and then squared her shoulders. “I went back to the hotel. But I stayed clear of the conflux. I promise. The ghost crew had something they needed me to see.”
Trying not to let the anger erupt again, he shot a glance to the ceiling. The fact she’d told him without prodding was something.
“You should have been with me to watch it.”
He left unspoken an emphatic agreement. He was tired too. And sad. But mostly, he was horny. He jerked his chin toward his bedroom door. “We’re not through discussing this.”
A dark brown brow arched. Her cheeks flushed. “Guess you’ll have to figure out a way to make sure I don’t forget this lesson.”
The hot, throbbing ache that had settled in his groin at her arrival sharpened. “Sweetheart, you won’t forget. Every time you sit you’ll get a little reminder.”
Her lips twitched.
“You first.” He followed her through the bedroom door, reluctantly realizing he’d have to keep the room completely dark to hide the fact he’d never, not even for a minute, gotten over her.
15
Not for a second did Cait think she was out of the woods. Sam was still livid. But while they’d talked, his cock had stirred, filled, becoming a heavy knot against the placket of his boxers.
Oh, she’d noticed and felt a burgeoning hope. Sex would smooth away the edges. Give them a chance to connect in the one way they never failed to communicate well.
Already her body was responding to his unspoken signals, warming, melting like wax. As she preceded him into the darkened bedroom, her hips swayed, inviting him to touch.
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