Whispering Hearts

by Cassandra Chandler

  She pushed past him, running down the hallway to the guest room. Garrett was right behind her. She made sure they crossed the threshold together. Being trapped in the room alone with Michael once had been quite enough for her.

  Her phone was still ringing, buried in the sheets that she had dropped near the window. Garrett threw them aside and picked it up, then hit the speaker button while Rachel set down what she carried on the bed.

  He held the phone up between them and said, “Hello?”

  “Garrett?” Jazz’s voice. She sounded wrecked. “Where’s Rachel? Is she okay?”

  Rachel’s stomach started doing flip-flops again. She had never heard Jazz sound so upset. Nowhere close.

  “I’m here. I’m fine.”

  Garrett glared at her, but Rachel stared him down. Now wasn’t the time to go into details. They could lose the connection at any moment.

  “Thank God.”

  At the same time, Rachel and Jazz both said, “Listen to me,” then paused.

  “Me first,” Jazz said. “He’ll find me any second.”

  “Who will?”

  “Finn. I mean Michael. I don’t even know anymore! I’m losing him. He’s losing himself. Michael is possessing him.”

  Garrett let out a breath like he’d been punched in the stomach. As if that and the feeling of loss and dread pummeling through Rachel from Garrett wasn’t bad enough, Jazz sniffed loudly, her voice hoarse as she continued.

  “He’s coming for you and Elsa. You have to warn her. He’s going to kill you and… You don’t want to know what he has planned then. If I can’t save Finn—”

  “Stop,” Rachel said. “We’re saving everybody. And we’re taking Michael out in the process. Permanently.”

  As in eternity. Michael was done hurting people Rachel cared about. He was done hurting anyone.

  Even without their bond, she could see that Garrett was barely holding it together. With it, she could sense how much he cared. He loved Finn like a brother. She wouldn’t let him lose another one. And whatever Finn was to Jazz…

  “Where are you?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t know exactly. I was knocked out. But I’m in a swamp. Probably somewhere near Clearview.”

  “Why Clearview?”

  “Finn and I were trying to find out more about Michael’s other victims. It’s Michael’s home town. We found the house where he grew up.”

  “Listen to me carefully. I am certain that Michael’s body was cremated but there must be something of him left behind. Something acting as an anchor in the physical realm. With how powerful he is, it can’t just be a lock of hair. It has to be something with more substance.”

  For a brief moment, she was actually sorry she and Michael hadn’t been intimate. She hadn’t had a chance to check him for surgery scars or find out if he’d ever had something removed. All those jars of keepsakes in his garage… Maybe one of them held an organ. Even his tonsils or appendix would be enough.

  If Jazz couldn’t find an anchor in Clearview, they at least had a lead on where to try next. In the meantime, Rachel had a plan to keep him contained.

  “I think I know where it is,” Jazz said. “What do I do with it?”

  “Burn it. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. But what about Finn?”

  “Once you destroy the anchor, I’ll be able to take care of Michael and Finn will be free. We’ll be working from here to try to weaken Michael, but we need you to help Finn keep fighting.”

  If Finn was half as worked up about Jazz as she was about him, they stood a good chance.

  “Jazz, you have to reach him,” Garrett said. “Any way you can. He won’t be able to live with himself if he hurts anybody.”

  “I know.”

  Garrett was frowning deeply, his brow lowered over his eyes. “Watch out for wildlife too. Michael can control snakes and gators and the swamp’s full of them.”

  “It’s good if he’s spreading himself thin,” Rachel said. “The more fronts we can hit him from, the better. Work on your connection to Finn. Try to reach him and help him to hold on.”

  Jazz’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Hurry.”

  The call ended.

  “Tell me your plan is going to work,” Garrett said.

  “It’s going to work. But you’re not going to like it.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  She wasn’t entirely sure. She was cobbling things together from all the different books she’d read, everything Hiram and Chloe had taught her. Mostly, she was going on instinct.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure how this will play out. I just know I need you with me.”

  So much was at stake. She had never been more frightened in her life. If she failed, everyone she loved would die. And that was just the beginning. What Michael had planned, the lives he would take, the people he would destroy—

  No. Just…no. She was going to stop him. Right now.

  Garrett nodded. “What is it you’re going to do?”

  “Ask you to trust me.”

  She pulled him down for a kiss, lingering more than she probably should. A small part of her warned that it might be their last one. She pushed the thought away.

  The witch’s ball sat on the bed with her other supplies. She handed the container of salt and the spray bottle to Garrett, then picked up the glass sphere and headed to the bathroom with him right behind her.

  This is where it had to happen. The mirror and the witch’s ball were her best weapons. Plus her blood and her knowledge.

  She made a line of salt across the door’s threshold and another along the back of the sink’s counter underneath the mirror, then handed the container of salt to Garrett. It was starting to feel disturbingly light.

  “Mix up more saltwater, please,” she said.

  As he did that, she pulled some towels from the shelf and wrapped the witch’s ball, then set it on the floor in a corner where it would be safe. When Garrett was done using the sink, she put in the stopper and filled it with warm water, then added more salt. Having the saltwater easily accessible would help with her work.

  “Close the drain in the tub and then spray it down. Put a towel over the toilet tight enough that nothing can crawl out of it. See if you can find something to put on top of the toilet seat too. Just in case.” She thought about that, then added, “Maybe make a salt line around the whole thing as well.”

  Garrett raised an eyebrow, but did as she said. He put a sturdy metal trash can on top of the seat when he was finished spraying and salting everything. Hopefully anything that might try to come up from the toilet wouldn’t be strong enough to lift it.

  “What next?” he asked.

  “Spray me down.”

  He hesitated. “With those cuts, it’s going to hurt like hell.”

  “I’ll deal. And you’re next, by the way.”

  She didn’t let herself wince, even though the salt stung each and every wound. Turning in a circle and spreading her arms, she made sure he was able to get her covered in a fine coat of saltwater. Then she did the same for him.

  It didn’t feel like enough.

  Using her blood to protect him was out of the question. Not only would he not stand for it most likely, but with what she had planned, it would make him a target. Their connection already opened him up to Michael more than she liked.

  If he had her blood on him, it would act like a beacon—like the one she was about to set up. But a saltwater symbol on his chest would hopefully be lost among the others she was about to draw. She had just the rune for the job.

  She dipped her fingertips in the saltwater in the sink, then lifted them to his chest and traced the shape of Eihwaz—like a backwards letter “Z”—a powerful rune of protection. She visualized him being surrounded by a bright golden light, strengthening his aura and
keeping him safe.

  She wished she could do the same for herself, but the saltwater spray would have to be enough. She didn’t want to scare Michael off.

  “Help me get the sheet down.”

  “Won’t Michael be able to see what we’re doing or use it as a door if we do?”

  “The salt line should act as a barrier.”

  The way he scowled let her know that he didn’t like the idea of taking down the sheet as clearly as the waves of apprehension flowing from him. Still, he moved to one side and carefully lifted the sheet off the corners of the mirror, making sure he didn’t disturb the line of salt. He dropped the sheet on the floor behind them.

  Rachel bent and picked up the witch’s ball, then set it on the counter within reach but not too close to the edge.

  “I’m going to need a few minutes of silence,” Rachel said.

  Garrett nodded and she went to work.

  First Thurisaz—a straight standing line with a triangle jutting out from its middle pointing to the right. Thorn. She traced it in the top left-hand corner with the saltwater from the sink.

  Upright, it was another rune of protection. As she drew it, she thought about herself and Garrett—all her loved ones, even the people she didn’t know who stood to lose their lives if Michael was free.

  Then she drew it in the corner opposite, with the arrow pointing to the left—a mirror image of the first rune. Reversed it meant ill-fortune, things not turning out as one hoped. She focused her thoughts on Michael.

  The next rune was Sowelu, the sun. A symbol of victory. It had always looked like a lightning bolt to her. She thought of Michael’s narcissism and played into that. Let him think this energy was for him—let it lure him in, make him feel secure.

  But it wasn’t for him. Or even for her. It was for Fate.

  The next rune finished her thought. Jera—two arrow-heads facing away from each other, touching so they defined a sealed space between them. It also looked a bit like a “Z”, but with an open rectangular space in the diagonal line. The harvest time for karma.

  “Reap what you sow,” she murmured as she traced the symbol.

  She continued to tell their story through the runes. Kenaz reversed, a single arrow-head. Darkness. Loss. Symbolizing both what she had felt during her time chained up in his garage and what Michael was about to experience at her hands.

  Each rune flowed from her fingertips onto the mirror, her skin buzzing with energy, her arms crawling with it. Uruz, a little like an upside-down “U”. The wild ox. Untamed. She wanted Michael to know he hadn’t broken her.

  In the mirror, she noticed her grim smile as she traced Tyr—justice. A single arrow pointing up.

  She was placing the runes in a spiral pattern, visualizing a vortex, a spinning whirlpool of energy that would trap him.

  And finally, in the center of the mirror, a single vertical line—Isa, the ice that held the whirlpool in check. The stick that held up the cage. The snare beneath the leaves.

  It was ready. All she had to do was place the bait.

  Her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The air grew heavier by the second, charged with energy like the moment before lighting struck. Goose bumps ran over Garrett’s skin. With each design Rachel traced on the mirror, he felt it thicken.

  And she was smiling.

  That unnerved him most of all. The way she smiled into the mirror, like she was daring Michael to come. Daring him to do his worst.

  Taunting him didn’t seem wise. Almost everyone Garrett cared about was on the line.

  What Finn must be going through, having that sick fuck playing around in his head. And Jazz trying to help Finn through it, sounding like her heart was being dragged across razorwire in the process.

  Elsa and Dante were somewhere hiding behind a line of salt with Winston and Leo. Damn, even their cat wasn’t safe. And it wouldn’t end with his circle of friends. For Rachel, it might not end at all.

  He could sense she was keeping things from him. Trying to protect him. But that just left him with his wild imaginings.

  What if they failed and Michael managed to take them all out? Could he grab her spirit and keep it from moving on? She had mentioned Michael’s other victims, that he was already tormenting them on the other side. There was no way Michael would let Rachel go if he had any say in it.

  Garrett thought he might be sick, his nerves were so bad. He fought the bile in his throat back down. There was no way he would lift that toilet seat after what Rachel had implied. He imagined a rattler springing out and hitting him in the face, or dozens of scorpions crawling from under the lid.

  The thought made him shiver. What Rachel did next made it worse.

  Reaching out to the counter beneath the mirror, she drew her finger through the line of salt, breaking it.

  Garrett shifted so that he stood behind her, ready to help however he could. Their reflections caught his attention. He outlined her perfectly, framed her smaller form, but didn’t dwarf it. The result was harmonious. Balanced. It calmed him to think of how perfectly they fit together.

  He had seen pictures of auras in her books. The image was almost the same as what he was seeing. It gave him faith.

  He was going to protect her. They were going to get through this. All of them.

  He rested his hands on her shoulders and sucked in a breath as their bond blew through him, electrified him. She was radiating power.

  Garrett’s eyes were tingling and he blinked a few times. The mirror was illuminated—all the symbols she had traced glowing with a faint silver light. He had no idea what they meant, but felt a tug, like he was looking into a pit instead of sideways into a mirror.

  But not a mirror. Not anymore.

  Their reflections and the room around them blurred and vanished. Instead, the glass was filled with gray fog and dark shadows.

  Holy shit…

  His disorientation grew worse as a silhouette emerged. The features were fuzzy, but gradually came into focus. Tousled blond hair, three days’ stubble around a broad smile, straight nose, large eyes… Finn. But not Finn.

  Those eyes were supposed to be gray. The same blue-gray as Rachel’s, in fact. Instead, they glowed bright blue. Blue like the gators’. Blue like Michael’s.

  Garrett sensed Rachel’s confusion. He shared it himself. If Michael had appeared, that would have made a sort of sense. Reflecting his soul and all that. But even possessing Finn, why would he appear that way?

  Unless Michael was using more than Finn’s body.

  Shit! Why hadn’t Garrett thought of that before? Finn was psychic too. And from what Garrett knew, Finn’s powers made him a prime target for a ghost looking to jack someone’s body.

  If having some sort of special anchor already gave Michael a boost, what would riding around in Finn do?

  Make it easier to get in people’s heads. Or animals. Make it easier for him to charm people, to connect. Especially through his hands, one of which was lifted as he reached out toward Rachel, that disarmingly charming smile on his face.

  Rachel lifted her arm in return. Garrett could feel some sort of feedback loop, energy rippling out from the mirror and from Rachel as well. There was some sort of connection there, a pull that neither of them understood. But Garrett did understand that she should absolutely not touch the mirror. He grabbed her arm to hold her back.

  Finn’s gentle smile twisted and another face lurched toward them. Garrett could still see Finn standing in the mirror, his expression pained and his hands reaching for the translucent thing coming out of him. Superimposed over Finn in a sick parody of Garrett and Rachel’s reflections earlier, Michael’s features took shape.

  In life, Michael had been handsome by any measure. Death had wiped that out. His cheeks were sunken, dark circles surrounding eyes blazing with that unholy blue light. Straw-like st
rands of hair floated around his face, and his teeth were serrated like a shark’s. His skin was waxy and bloodless.

  “Hello, Rachel,” Michael said.

  He lunged at them, his face and shoulders coming out of the mirror. On this side, they looked solid. How was that possible? He reached out and locked his grip on Rachel’s arms—and pulled.

  She screamed, and Garrett tightened his hold on her, keeping her tight against his chest. His feet started to slide on the tile floor.

  “What do I do?” Garrett yelled.

  “The ball! The witch’s ball!”

  The…? Right. That glass ball she’d hung in her room. It was close enough for him to reach. He wrapped his arm around her chest, keeping her pinned to him, and picked it up with his free hand.

  Michael let go of one of Rachel’s arms. The pull toward the mirror lessened and Garrett gained some ground, bringing Rachel with him. But it gave Michael the opening he needed.

  Laughing, he swatted the ball away. It hit the floor and shattered.

  “Trinkets and baubles,” he said. “Oh Rachel, I have so much to teach you once you’re on the other side with me. Stop fighting it, love. We’re all waiting for you.”

  Then Garrett saw them—dark forms lurking behind Michael in the mirror. The ghosts of his victims.

  Their spirits looked like the portraits Michael had made using their blood. Distorted bodies, faces hidden or turned away. The pain and despair Michael captured on his canvases blew out from the mirror like a cold wind, freezing Garrett down to his soul.

  Police had identified a dozen different victims from DNA testing of Michael’s portraits. There were more than a dozen spirits in the mirror. So many more.

  Rachel began to cry. Her right arm was turning blue where Michael’s spectral hand held her.

  “Rachel…” Garrett’s teeth were chattering. “Rachel, sweetie, I need you to focus. I know you’re scared. I am too. But everyone is counting on us. Including those women. We need to help them, remember? That was always the plan.”

  “The plan…” She sniffed loudly, then nodded.

  Reaching up with her free hand, she dug her nails into one of the deeper cuts on her right arm. Blood welled to the surface.