If Rachel had taught Garrett anything over the past few days, it was that he didn’t have to be the one to run in and fix things. He pulled out his phone and saw a full-strength signal.
Letting out a huge breath of relief, he called Elsa.
“Hi, Garrett.”
She giggled. Not the sound someone makes sitting in a waiting room while the love of her life was undergoing emergency surgery.
“Is Dante with you?”
“Where else would he be? Stop it!”
“Elsa!” Garrett didn’t mean to yell, but he needed her full attention.
Dante came on the call, his voice low and filled with a quiet challenge.
“Good morning, Garrett. I trust you have good reason for speaking to Elsa in such a harsh tone that I could hear it even sitting next to her.”
Dante sounded as pissed as he ever had, and Garrett was near giddy with relief. Hearing Dante on the phone meant that he was okay. It also meant he wasn’t in surgery.
The ghosts that were after Rachel might have tricked Dylan—no, Misha—into leading them astray.
Or Misha had lied.
When Garrett didn’t respond, Dante went on. “I will ask you to nonetheless forgo using such a stern tone in the future, as she is quite sensitive to it.”
“I’m sorry.” Garrett ran his hand through his hair. He had forgotten about Elsa’s parents. Not that he had the full details on that. They could catch up later.
“Listen, we’re kind of in a shitstorm here.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Right. Dante was from the 1800s. Shitstorm probably wasn’t used back then.
“A mess. Problems. Danger.”
“What do you need?”
“First, I need to know that you’re okay.”
“We are both fine.”
There was a pause, then Garrett heard Elsa say, “You’re on speaker.” Her voice was a bit colder than usual, but at least she seemed focused. “What’s going on?”
Damned if he knew.
“Dante, are you due for surgery anytime soon?” Garrett asked.
“Not for at least several weeks. While the preliminary reviews have been promising, the doctors wish to see how well I have healed from the initial surgery before following up with additional procedures.”
That was the first thing that made sense all day.
“Okay. Good. Listen, I don’t know for sure what’s going on here, but there are some ghosts that are threatening Rachel. They’ve even brought you both into it, trying to trick us and…”
And get Rachel alone.
The churning in Garrett’s stomach intensified and a chill swept over his skin making his hair stand on end. When it came to the ghosts threatening Rachel, Garrett wasn’t sure who he was talking about—Michael’s victims or Misha.
Michael.
It had to be.
Michael had been enough of a narcissistic prick to call himself “Michael Angelo” as a painter. Going by Misha as he fooled Rachel into thinking he was a friend of Hiram’s would be just the thing to play to his ego. She had said ghosts sometimes shared information. Michael could have learned about Hiram and…
Fuck!
Garrett jumped back into his car and pulled on his seatbelt. Who knew what was in store for him once he drove back into that storm. He had to be alive to help Rachel. He had to get to her.
He also had to warn Elsa. She was in even more danger than they thought.
“What can we do?” Elsa asked.
“I don’t have time to explain, but Michael is back. I’m sure of it.”
How the hell was he supposed to protect everybody? Rachel was miles away in the center of what was building up to a landlocked hurricane from the looks of it, Elsa and Dante were miles in the other direction, ignorant of the issue and how to protect themselves. Even Winston and Jazz might be on Michael’s list.
“You know that little bookstore on Sunny Lane with the dragon reading a book on the sign?” he asked.
“Bookwyrm. Yes, I did a signing there last year.”
“Good. Then you know the owner.”
“Chloe.”
He relaxed the tiniest bit. “Call her. She’s a medium and can help you. Tell her there’s at least one poltergeist coming after you and everyone you care about. If you can’t reach her—”
This was going to sound crazy, but he barreled on. “Make up some saltwater in spray bottles. Spray it on the windows, doors, any entry to the loft.”
“Our windows are two stories high,” Elsa said.
Shit! He’d forgotten about that. “Then make lines of salt across all your windowsills and the door to your place. And cover your mirrors. Make sure Winston and Leo stay inside too. And call Jazz and tell her what’s up.”
“How great is the danger?” Dante asked.
Lightning streaked from the sky and hit the ground less than a mile in front of Garrett. The thunder rolled in after like a warning. Or a challenge.
Garrett’s jaws tightened, the muscles nearly cramping. He bit out each word. “Ward your place. I’ll take care of the rest.”
He ended the call, then dropped his phone in the drink tray and knocked the car into drive, flooring the gas. Once he was home, he was going to figure out a way to end this once and for all.
He felt the car hit the water like it was a solid thing, but then it gave and he was back in the downpour. He just had to keep the car going straight. And not miss his driveway.
The rain started to lessen. It made him more anxious. What else did Michael have up his sleeve? What was distracting him from trying to drown Garrett?
By the time Garrett neared his home, the rain had all but stopped. He started to turn into his driveway when something huge lurched up from the brush lining his property. Swerving to miss it, his car went off the drive and into the sand.
“Shit!”
He looked out his window to see an eight-foot alligator walking toward his car. He hit the gas again, but all his wheels did was spin, throwing up patches of grass and digging in deeper.
The gator opened its jaws and hissed. Rows of sharp teeth surrounded the pale flesh of its mouth. Its eyes should have been black, but they glowed bright blue.
At this point, it was just one more weird thing. He pushed it from his mind and focused on what to do next.
His drive was long. Maybe fifty yards. Gators were faster on land than most people knew, but if he had a head start, Garrett could outrun it.
He slid his chair back and climbed into the passenger’s seat. As he opened the door to jump out, something slammed against it. The door hit him in the head with enough force to send him sprawling back, seeing stars.
The tip of another gator’s nose came into view through the passenger’s window.
His heart was pounding. He took a few breaths to calm himself. Looking at his hands, he saw they were okay. If they’d been in the door when it shut—hell, if he’d made it out of the car…
Best not to think of that.
He was a little dizzy and his forehead itched. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw blood flowing down along his temple.
The wound was superficial. Head wounds always bled more. He could fix it later.
At the moment, what he needed to do was think of a way out of his car. Crawling out the windows or using the doors wouldn’t work. A gator could jump up and grab him easily. And if he hit the ground too close to one, the same thing would happen. They could strike like a snake.
His heart sank.
Please don’t let there be snakes waiting out there too.
Surely gators were enough. Right?
One way or another, he was getting to his house. He would get to Rachel.
He looked around the car for a way to escape. There was no sun roof. Damn, he should have bough
t a convertible. He could pop the top off, climb on the hood, jump clear of the gators, and run like hell for the house.
Wait…
He turned around to face the trunk of his car. He pushed his chair flat and crawled into the back. The releases for the back seat were a little hard to track down, but once he did, he lowered it so he could reach into his trunk and dig out his tire iron.
He pushed the seat up again and took a deep breath, staring out the glass of his rear windshield as he tested the weight of the metal in his hand. He really wished he was wearing thicker clothes.
Covering his eyes with his elbow, he pulled back his other arm and struck the window as hard as he could.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As soon as Garrett left, Rachel went to work. She lit incense in her censer and refilled the saltwater bottle, then headed to Garrett’s room. Walking through the house, she tried to keep her focus. Her mind kept wandering to her friends.
Were they okay? Was Garrett putting himself in even greater danger by trying to help them?
There was nothing she could do about that. All she could do was make the house safe for them whenever they managed to arrive.
She also wanted it to be safe for Dylan. Or Misha. Whoever he was. She even still wanted to help the women who were haunting her, though at this point that probably meant helping them to cross over rather than resolving their issues. She couldn’t believe how far they were going—how angry they felt just that she had survived.
Rachel’s own issues were fighting against her as well. She made a line of salt in front of the garage door rather than cleansing it. Garrett would be returning through the garage and she’d have to cleanse the space again anyway after he pulled in, especially the way it was raining. She had never heard such a storm. Better to just block off the garage from the rest of the house for now.
When she reached the guest room, she paused again. Misha or Dylan—whoever he was—had seemed comfortable talking to her in this room. And she preferred the comparatively controlled environment to talking outside. There were too many variables in the yard, too many ways things could sneak up on her.
Plus, she liked the idea of letting Dylan stay inside with them. As Garrett’s brother, she wanted this to be his home too.
She made a new line of salt across the threshold, then took the censer back to the kitchen and set it on a trivet on the counter. After hesitating for a moment, she set the spray bottle next to it. Walking into the room carrying the equivalent of a shotgun wasn’t the reception she wanted for the troubled spirit—Misha or Dylan.
It was time to figure out who this guy was and what he needed. Rachel headed back to the room. She stepped over the barrier carefully.
“Misha? Are you here? I’d like to talk to you.”
She listened intently for his response, but heard nothing but the rain pounding against the window. A shrill sound broke in, rattling around in her head. She jumped, heart pounding.
It was her phone. She had brought it back to her room before cleansing the house so that she wouldn’t lose track of it.
Strange that it suddenly had a signal again. Maybe a tower had been struck by lightning like Garrett thought and repairs were just finished.
She ran to the bedside table and picked it up. The caller ID read Jazz.
“Hello?”
Without preamble Jazz said, “Are you absolutely sure that Michael is gone?”
Rachel felt a chill that shot straight through to her bones. Why did people keep asking her that?
“He was cremated.” She sounded unsure, even to herself.
Jazz’s voice kept cutting out as she spoke, like the signal wasn’t stable.
“I know…if…found…connection…could…possess…someone?”
“Possession?” Rachel’s stomach clenched again and the icy feeling in her bones intensified.
No way. He would still need an anchor, some physical remains. He couldn’t—
Jazz said, “Oh God—” just before the call died.
The door slammed shut.
All the hair on Rachel’s arms stood on end as the room dropped in temperature. She felt a cold breath on the back of her neck.
“Hello, Rachel.”
She dropped her phone on the bed, then ran to the door and tried the handle. It turned, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled as hard as she could, then threw herself against it, but nothing happened. Slowly, she turned around and took a few hesitant steps back into the room.
“Dramatic as always, I see.”
She pinched her lips shut and closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Michael…
“You look lovely, my dear.” Lines of cold traced down her arms like fingertips, lingering over the scars on her wrists. Michael let out a contented, “Mmm…”
“What do you want?” Her voice crackled as she forced the words out.
“You, of course. I have a little harem on this side, and you will be my crown jewel.” He chuckled. “I thought Elsa was the strongest one, but you… You surprised me, Rachel. When you killed me.”
The paintings on the walls rattled as the room shook. How was he so powerful? How was he even here? None of it made sense.
“It was self-defense,” she whispered.
“It was selfish. Short-sighted. Like everything you do.” The cold traced over her cheek, freezing the tears on her face. “Don’t worry. I forgive you.”
She turned her face away from his touch, just like she had done in his garage when he held her prisoner. It had been so long since she had felt a spirit’s hands on her. Her flesh was crawling.
“My ladies can’t wait for you to join us. They told me they warned you about what would happen if you killed me. But you didn’t listen.” He laughed again. “Another of your strongest suits—only paying attention to yourself.”
Her heart broke at his words. She had been selfish for so long, focused on not hearing ghosts to the point that she didn’t listen to her friends.
Elsa had warned Rachel about Michael, and she hadn’t listened. Rachel had known Garrett loved her, but she’d ignored it instead of telling him straight out that they couldn’t be involved or explaining the situation and discovering that they could.
She had wasted so much time. And she wasn’t sure how much she had left.
“I’m grateful, actually. Death is much more fun than being alive. If I had known, I would have arranged this years ago. There are so many things I have to teach you, but I want to wait till you’re here with me. I want you to feel everything I do to you—and you will feel it.”
His hands were on her shoulders. She had nowhere to run.
“I’ve been practicing on the others,” he said. “Warming myself up for you.”
Bile rose in the back of her throat. Those poor women. She had to help them somehow.
“I’ve been experimenting on someone else too. Someone close to you, though you’ve never met.”
What was he talking about? Hiram maybe? But Hiram had crossed over. She prayed it wasn’t Dylan.
“He’s been teaching me all kinds of interesting tricks—how to slip into bodies like a fine suit. When I’m done with him, I’m sure I’ll have no problem finding another meat-puppet to play with. And another and another.”
His cold breath brushed her ear. “I will kill so many women, Rachel. In so many ways. Ways I haven’t even imagined yet. And the men I use to do it…”
He chuckled. “They won’t be able to stop me. I’ll twist them around inside until they won’t know where they stop and I begin. I will remake them in my image. And you’ll be right at my side to watch. Forever.”
No. No no no. This was not going to happen. She would find whatever part of his body was left and destroy it. She would find a way to end his twisted soul permanently.
“I can see what
you’re thinking,” he half-sang. “I studied you, remember? I’m in your head as much as his. He just doesn’t realize it yet. But he will. The moment I use his hands to crush Ms. Zhou’s throat. When he hears me laugh while she dies and tries again to sort out his thoughts from mine.”
“Stay the hell away from my friends!”
Rachel dove for the reading chair and hefted it over her head, then threw it at the window. Glass shattered, some of it falling into the room as a blast of rain-drenched wind hit her.
The chair lodged in the window. Rachel shoved it as hard as she could. It crashed to the ground on the other side. She hopped up onto the windowsill, ignoring the warning from her primal brain about the sharp glass that was scraping her arms, ignoring…
A low rumble sounded from the ground below. Instinct kicked in and she lurched back just as an alligator struck, its jaws clacking shut inches from her face.
She stumbled backward through the broken glass, not stopping when the backs of her knees hit the bed. Even though the alligator couldn’t climb into her room, she kept moving away, crab-walking over the mattress. She was breathing so fast her vision was tunneling.
Calm. She needed to be calm. She couldn’t help anyone if she was unconscious. And goddammit, she was going to protect her friends.
She took a few deep breaths, her body quaking with adrenaline. The sheets were sticking to her arms and legs where she’d been cut. Pain began to register.
She checked her wounds and found that most of them weren’t too deep. Some still had small bits of glass in them. She steeled her nerves and picked them out, throwing them toward the window.
“Keep cutting.” Michael’s voice was right at her ear, but she didn’t flinch. “That’s a nice piece there. Use it on yourself. Maybe I’m haunting you, and it will stop me. Or you can have a go at me from this side.”
He nuzzled her ear, the cold almost burning. “I would love to see you try.”
Rachel was adept at ignoring spirits. She used that skill, picking up the edge of her sheet and wiping away some of the blood on her arms. A flash of blue-green glass caught her eye and she quickly covered it back up.
Whispering Hearts Page 23