The third floor of the museum looked much like the other, numerous historical museums and societies Justin had visited over the years. Dirty windows allowed dim sunlight to filter in, casting odd shadows around the stiflingly hot room, even on a bright summer day. The scent of musty objects filled the air and he had to suppress the urge to sneeze. He felt that any sound other than his hollow footsteps would somehow shatter the unnatural quiet that hung over this floor of the building.
There were ghosts here; he could sense them. Not in the way that someone like Tim could, but rather, in the way any normal person could, as if someone was watching them. He had the sensation that ghosts and spirits, ones who had long ago attached themselves to the other objects in the room, were watching him. Even for a ghost hunter like him, the sensations were unnerving. Still, he wasn’t about to be deterred.
Crossing to the far corner of the room, he came to stand before the Dorsey exhibit. Worn and faded by time, the images and text were still clear enough to read. Following the story of the Dorsey family across the decades, at first, Justin didn’t see anything worthwhile. Then, he found James’ name towards the end.
The placards told the story of a man who was more sinner than saint and of Rose Dorsey’s fall from grace at his hands. The entire town, it seemed, had conspired to keep them apart during those tumultuous few years that he courted her. It had even been a community decision to send Rose away to boarding school in the hope that she would meet someone else, someone more equal to her station in life. She had been the shining star of the community, the favored daughter that everyone had longed to see happy and settled, eventually taking her place as a pillar of the community.
However it seemed that Rose hadn’t been quite as willing to go along with that plan as everyone assumed she was. Headstrong and rash, the exhibit noted that she had spurned another, more appropriate suitor just before she’d been sent away, though it didn’t mention the young man’s name. Rather, it skipped ahead several years to her return to town and her almost immediate disgrace only days later.
The picture painted of James Morgan was not a good one, either. Cold and unfeeling, the exhibit hinted that perhaps there had been some bits of good inside James, but that few people could see them, Rose being the exception. Instead, it focused on his abusive childhood and a lifetime of misdeeds, including what the town of Blue Spring considered the ultimate sin – debauching Rose in his uncle’s barn not two days after she returned home.
As expected, there were also the details of their deaths, but not much else. Instead, everything focused on their lives and whether or not James had truly loved Rose or if he had simply used her the way he had used countless other women throughout his life.
Justin knew the answer to that question and had for a while now. James had loved Rose, but he hadn’t known how to show it.
Confused, Justin closed his eyes and tried to absorb everything he’d just read. This portrait of James was closer to what he had seen in his visions, though still not completely accurate. Then again, it was much closer to reality than the cotton candy sweet version of her husband that Rose seemed to remember.
Moving to look at the glass case, Justin studied the objects on display. A man’s gold pocket watch was open and shone dimly in the dusky light, with the words “To my beloved James” engraved on the inside front. An ivory handled comb and brush set, now yellowed with age, rested beside it. A small chip was missing from the brush’s handle and instinctively, Justin knew how it had gotten there. He’d thrown it against the wall and the brush had cracked as it narrowly missed Rose’s head.
The last object in the case was a brass-tipped, cherry wood walking stick. He, or rather James, had struck out at someone with that cane in anger. Not at Rose but someone else, someone who had challenged James and James’ right to be with the woman the other man claimed to love. That same man who also claimed that Rose was still a virgin and that the scandalous scene in the barn had never really occurred, or, if it had, it hadn’t been as bad as it had appeared.
Anger welled up inside of Justin at the mere thought of this nameless, faceless person. It was an old anger, one that transcended time and space, and was unlike anything Justin had experienced before. Overwhelming and harsh, it threatened to swallow his soul and Justin knew that James had struggled mightily against giving in to that anger.
The heat inside the building, which had been bothersome before, suddenly became overwhelming and Justin fought to breathe. He felt as if he was drowning in quicksand, with the pressure of a thousand hands pushing on his chest all at once. Images swam and danced before his eyes, showing him more scenes from his past – none of them very pleasant.
His last thought before he lost consciousness was that, perhaps, he would have been better off not knowing the full truth about the man he’d been and all the unhappiness he’d brought to the one woman he’d sworn to love, cherish and protect above all others.
Chapter Seventeen
Justin didn’t know how long he’d been out, but when he came to, the third floor was still deserted and he could hear muffled noises from below. Glancing at his watch, he knew the museum would be closing soon. The last thing he wanted was someone finding him here, sprawled across the floor and asking questions he couldn’t answer.
Instead, he gingerly picked himself up and stumbled down the stairs into the lobby where the elderly docent was still manning her post, determined to stay until exactly closing time. After mumbling a few words of good-bye and a promise to visit again soon, Justin managed to get himself back out into the sunlight and clean air, a vast change from the dusty museum.
Spotting a nearby café, he made his way across the street and sat down at one of the outdoor tables. A waitress took his order for a sandwich and a large soda, and then mercifully left him alone to gather his thoughts. Once he was convinced that he wasn’t going to collapse or make a babbling fool out of himself, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called Tim.
Once his friend picked up, Justin quickly brought Tim up to date on what had happened at the museum without wasting words, not wanting to risk being overheard. At the spur of the moment, he asked if Tim could meet him at the café where they could talk in private without the AR people listening in. Quickly agreeing, Tim assured Justin that he would be there in only a few minutes.
Ending the call, Justin leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and allowed the soft heat of the day to just wash over him while he waited for Tim to arrive. The white noise of the traffic in the background soon had Justin relaxed and on the verge of sleep. He was startled when the waitress returned with his meal. Embarrassed, he paid her, including a very generous tip and told her that he didn’t need anything else.
Almost as soon as she was gone, Tim arrived and pulled out a chair, dropping into it as if completely exhausted.
“You missed a fun morning, man,” Tim said, stealing a french fry from Justin’s plate. “After you high tailed it out of there, the AR folks went nuts, demanding to know where you were going.” He was quiet while he chewed. “They don’t like the idea that the potential star of their show could bolt whenever he feels like it.”
“How did Mia take the whole thing?” A part of Justin really didn’t want to know. Mia had staked the future of the entire organization on this show and he’d just gone and potentially destroyed the whole thing. Looking back, it had been an incredibly selfish thing to do, but he honestly couldn’t say he’d change anything, even if he could.
Tim stole another fry and dipped it in some ketchup. “ About as well as you’d imagine.”
That made Justin wince, though given Tim’s calm demeanor, he found it unlikely that he’d been fired. In a whole lot of trouble, perhaps. But not fired, at least not yet.
“Still,” Tim continued as he munched on yet another fry, “she didn’t completely fly off the handle and she stuck up for you. She told the AR people that they should count themselves lucky to have found an investigator as passionate as you.”
Sitting back, Tim slipped his sunglasses down over his eyes, as if he didn’t want Justin to be able to read any emotion on his face. “They weren’t buying it at first, but I think she convinced them in the end. What the hell were you thinking, Justin? Or weren’t you thinking at all, just using that one certain piece of your anatomy that has gotten you into trouble more than once?”
Stunned, Justin didn’t know what to say. He was used to Mia lashing out at him, but not Tim. “I found a clue.” His words sounded hollow to his own ears. “This is our case. I needed to help Rose! You know that. I’m sorry, but I did what I had to do.”
“It’s Mia you need to apologize to, not me,” Tim finally said after a long silence. “And I think you’re forgetting one important thing. Sophia Hamlin is our client, not Rose. Somewhere along the way, you lost that distinction and that’s partly my fault. I saw it happening and I let you go.”
“It seems to me that if you help one, you help the other.” Justin knew that wasn’t a very good explanation, but it was the best he could come up with. “And I’ll apologize to Mia. I promise.”
Nodding, Tim pushed his sunglasses back up on his head and Justin noticed that his friend’s eyes had darkened to an almost midnight blue, something that only happened when he was angry. It was a measure of their friendship that Tim wasn’t busting his balls over the incident and Justin knew it.
“I also need some help.” Justin was almost afraid to ask, but he knew he had to. “I told you that when I was in the museum, I fainted again. It was just like before and all of these memories came rushing back to me. I can’t make sense of them, can’t figure them out. I need to run them through Callie’s mind again and see if she can help me put them in order, figure out what’s real and what’s not.”
At his words, Tim’s face darkened to ominous proportions. “Jus, I love you like a brother but I can’t and won’t ask that of her. Even if Mia would allow it, and I seriously doubt she would, there is no way you’re getting past Reed.”
“But I can make him understand…” Justin began but Tim held up his hand before his friend could say anything more.
“I’m not going to ask that of her and neither should you.” Tim’s voice was firm and Justin knew there was no way his friend would help.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Without Callie’s talent, Justin’s only other option was to examine his memories himself, something that hadn’t proven too effective before.
Tim considered that for a moment. “Go see Rose. It’s the best piece of advice I can offer you right now. It’s where you want to be anyway.”
“You don’t want me to apologize to Mia?” In Justin’s mind, that seemed unlikely, given how angry Tim had been moments before.
“Oh, I still want you to do that,” Tim confirmed, “but not right now. Give her some time to cool off. And whatever you do, don’t ask for Callie’s help.” He looked away, not meeting Justin’s eyes. “She’s not doing well.”
That bit of news sobered Justin quickly. “I thought she was doing better. Reed didn’t say anything when I saw him earlier.”
“Well, she isn’t good,” Tim said. “In fact, I just stopped by the infirmary to see her before I came to meet you. That’s where I was when you called.”
“So what’s the problem?” Justin didn’t like the possibility that Callie was really and truly hurt after their memory transfer.
Rubbing his eyes, for a moment, Tim seemed far older than his thirty two years and Justin had to wonder what secrets his friend was carrying around with him. When this was all over, Justin vowed that he and Tim would sit down some night at a local bar and just talk. It was long overdue.
“It’s the Imperitas,” Tim said, pushing himself out of his chair and standing up. “As long as it’s on her wrist, she can’t completely recover from the transfer. Both Reed and Mia have appealed to the international committee, but they’re not budging. If the bracelet is removed, Callie’s life is forfeit and she has to turn herself in to the committee for violation of international law.”
Justin swallowed hard. If that were to happen, Callie would be tried and convicted within a week or possibly even days, especially considering how little regard or trust most of the paranormal community had in Mimics. Until a few years ago, it had even been legal to kill a Mimic, as they were viewed as less of a person just because of their abilities. He didn’t want that to happen to Callie.
Nodding in understanding, Justin looked up at his friend and once again was struck by the weariness in Tim’s eyes.
“I get it,” he said, a sick feeling in his stomach at the possibility of his friend being put to death because she’d done nothing more than help him. “No Callie. I’ll find another way.”
“We’ll get through this,” Tim assured him, putting a comforting his hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”
With that, Tim turned and walked back in the direction of the Ghosts, Inc. offices, leaving Justin still sitting at the small café table.
As he watched his friend’s retreating back, Justin remembered when they were in college and their biggest problems had been what bar they were going to visit on any given night and what woman they were going to take home for hot, sweaty jungle sex, even though Tim inevitably left the bars alone, while Justin always had his pick of women. Life had seemed so much easier back then.
Suddenly frowning at the thought, he realized that, to some extent his behavior wasn’t really much better than James’ had been. Though the women Justin slept with more or less knew the score, he’d still used them, used their bodies to get what he wanted, which was mostly just physical release and a chance to brag to his buddies.
Ben had been right.
What made him any better than the man he’d once been, a man Justin had, in his mind at least, come to condemn over the last few days?
He wasn’t. In some ways, he was just as bad as James had ever been, maybe worse, because until Tim had put his foot down just now, Justin had been fully prepared to use Callie for his own purposes, never once stopping to think about what the physical strain might do to her. Or worse.
In his heart, Justin knew that, to a degree, he hadn’t really changed at all, had never moved beyond the self-centered man he had been so long ago. That was why it was so easy for the last vestiges of James’ spirit to take over his body every time he entered Rosewood House.
He also wondered if he was capable of change? He wondered if it was even in him to really become the man Rose thought he was now. More than that, Justin was terrified to admit that he really didn’t know.
Chapter Eighteen
Several hours later, Justin found himself at Rosewood again. He hadn’t purposely made the decision to come here. However, after Tim had left the small sidewalk café, Justin really didn’t know where else to go. The Ghosts, Inc. offices were out, at least for the day. He needed to be sure that the AR people were gone. The last thing he wanted was to have to justify his actions to a bunch of suits that didn’t really care about the paranormal and instead, just wanted a hot, new television series.
He could have gone home, he supposed, but that hadn’t seemed like a good idea either. His apartment was small and cramped, more bachelor pad than a real home. In fact, since he’d left college, Justin hadn’t ever really had a true home. He’d lived in plenty of places as he had chased ghosts across the country, but those had been little more than places to sleep at night. He hadn’t really felt as if he’d belonged in any of them.
The old house in Blue Spring was different, and it wasn’t just because Rose was there, though her presence did help. Every time he walked through the doors, he felt a sense of peace and belonging, even though the house played tricks on his mind and made him more than a little crazy. Like everything else that concerned Rose, it was as if there were two parts to the house – the good and the bad.
Opening the door with the key, he stepped quietly inside, not wanting to scare Rose. When she didn’t come to greet him right away, he wandered a
round the first floor. This time, with no Rose to distract him, Justin really looked at the walls and furnishings. Though much of the furniture was new, it sat where similar pieces had rested for years. The house had a distinctive design and there were only so many places to put a couch or a love seat.
Running his hand along the chair rail, Justin could almost feel another presence in the house, but he quickly dismissed it. If there was another spirit in the house, Rose would have told him, or, at the very least, Tim or another investigator would have seen or sensed it during one of the trips to the house.
Justin pushed the feeling aside as he continued to wander from room to room. He passed through the formal dining room, past the entrance to the library and into the servants’ preparation area where food would have been put on trays to be served. After a quick look in the kitchen, he went back the way he had come and soon found himself in the front parlor.
This room had changed little since Rose and James had lived here. Apparently, all of the owners preferred the room as it was, which Justin found strange. Though the room was small, it could have been used for something other than an ornate, Victorian-style sitting room. Instead, every owner of Rosewood House had allowed the fringed, rose-patterned lamp to stay on the hand-carved rosewood table. The now slightly musty, high backed chairs were still in the same places they had always been, facing a small love seat and a matching fainting couch.
It all seemed rather odd to Justin as he examined the old furniture, hoping for some glimmer of a clue to pop into his mind.
“I asked them all to leave the parlor as it was.” Justin didn’t even jump as Rose appeared in the corner of the room.
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