He turned, clipping his hip on the edge of the closest cabinet. “I see what you mean.” He gave her an arched eyebrow.
“You want a bottle of water or a glass of wine?”
“Wine, of course, my dear.”
She moved to the fridge and pulled it opened. Taking out a bottle, he groaned behind her.
“Red in the fridge?” He visibly shivered when she turned. “Have I not taught you anything?”
“Nope. I like what I like.” Anora grabbed two glasses from the top cabinet beside the fridge. With bottle, glasses and a corkscrew in hand, she waltzed past him to hold the swinging door open with her hip.
Holding the takeout metal containers and two packets of plasticware complete with salt, pepper and napkins, Elijah strolled into the main room of the log cabin. “I got you the lemon chicken dish with pasta and me the fried fish of the day with slaw and sweet potato fries.”
Her stomach roared like she’d swallowed a lion. He grinned. “Guess my timing couldn’t have been any better.”
Chapter Two
“Thanks for the meal.” Anora poured the last of the wine into their glasses, then took a seat beside Elijah. The log cabin had a wide front porch and a comfy swing hung from its ceiling. They’d moved to the swing to relax after dinner.
The storm subsided to a steady rain. Woods surrounded three sides of the cabin. The front yard faced the lake and it was a short walk across the dirt road to the dock. A pair of rental cars sat in the driveway, hers and Elijah’s. Owning a vehicle wasn’t necessary in the city with the buses, cabs, and subways.
“Couldn’t let you starve.” He clinked his glass to hers before taking a sip. “Besides, I wanted to see you, make sure you were okay.” He leaned toward her. “You didn’t sound well before you left.”
Anora rested her head on the back of the swing and stared in the direction she knew the lake sat, though there was no seeing it this night. “I just needed to get away from all that crap, from Tony and his shit brigade. Still can’t believe he got almost half my money.”
“Consider it well spent if it means he’s gone.” Elijah took a swig, then added, “Never liked him anyway. He was the load of bricks holding you back.”
She sighed heavily. “What if it was the need to prove him wrong that drove me to write, to prove I wasn’t stupid and could create a world people wanted to read about? I haven’t written shit since the divorce started.”
“You’ve written something. I read it while you threw away the plates.”
“That crap?” she gasped. “You shouldn’t have read it.”
“It wasn’t your best, but it wasn’t your worst either.”
A long silence lingered between them before she spoke again. “I’m thinking of stepping away from the Josie James series. Start something new, different.”
“Like what? Any ideas you wanna bounce off me? I’m game.” Elijah turned into the corner. He faced her and used his foot to gently sway the swing. Its creak, mixed with the steady cadence of the rain, blended into an unusual background noise, pleasant with an eerie twist.
“Not sure, but this area is full of inspiration. Did you know a gypsy and her lover founded this town? Antanasia and Alexandru. He was a fisherman. Together, they built a store in what is now the town of Chariot. They sold necessities like groceries, fish, bait and tackle. They bartered with the locals, traded goods for furs and deer meat. In the back of the store, she told fortunes. Apparently, she made a unique black raspberry jam, which kept hunters and fishermen returning just to lay claim to a jar.”
She didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Once they established their business, the town grew and it needed a name. The tale goes, Antanasia set her tarot deck on the counter, tapped it three times and told Alexandru to pull a card. That would be the name. He lifted the top card and it was the Chariot, the card of succor, triumph, and providence or vengeance. In her opinion, it was the right choice. They’d been cast out of their homeland because neither family approved of their union. This card proved they were triumphant in their new life by being successful when no one believed in them.”
“That’s an interesting story.”
“Oh, it gets better yet, sad and frightening.” Anora wet her mouth with a sip of wine. “Alexandru drowned in the lake while fishing. His boat was found capsized, but his body was never found. Antanasia’s heart was broken. She believed he’d been murdered but couldn’t prove it. Legend has it her spirit remains in the area seeking vengeance for Alexandru. This cabin was theirs. It’s been renovated, given a modern kitchen and plumbing, but the ghost remains, lurking, taking souls in exchange for her lost love.”
“Ghost, really? You believe this cabin is haunted?”
“I’d like to think so. It’d make for a creepy setting, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “What do you mean by taking souls? Has someone died in this place?”
“Not sure. The real estate agent wasn’t specific. She told me there have been multiple unexplained occurrences throughout the years.”
“Occurrences? What sort of occurrences? Chains rattling, sightings of ghosts?” His sceptical tone told her he didn’t take her seriously.
“People have gone missing. No bodies were ever found, but each one had stayed at this cabin.”
“You mean they disappeared while staying here?” His voice deepened with concern. “Did they ever find out what happened? A serial killer possibly?”
Anora shrugged. “It’s just a ghost tale. You know, something someone started so far back that no one knows if it’s true or not. An urban legend of sorts. But it’s the reason the agency has difficulty renting this cabin. No one wants it after they hear the tales.”
“No one but you,” he noted.
“Yeah, I like the place. Even though it’s kind of scary.” Thunder rolled as if on cue and the rain increased its pace.
“Has anything scary happened to you since you’ve been here?”
Was he teasing her? “Not really.” She paused. Anora wasn’t sure if she should tell him since he didn’t seem to take the possibility of the supernatural being real seriously. “It’s just…”
“It’s just what?” He straightened. In the dark, she couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but she knew he stared directly at her.
“I’m probably being silly. I’ve been here a couple days and nothing bad has happened, but sometimes I feel like I’m being watched.”
“Have you seen anyone hanging around the cabin? Maybe peeking in at you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s not…” She bit her lip, not sure how to proceed, then blurted, “I’m not certain it’s human. It’s a sensation, an icy chill, and doesn’t seem friendly.”
A cool breeze blew across the porch, causing Anora to shiver. Elijah’s arm came around her shoulders, hugging her close to him in a warming embrace against his side. This close, she saw and felt him much better. Was that desire she read in his eyes or simply her wishful imagination? His heat him chased away all that chilled her, making her hunger for more. Anora couldn’t move. She licked her lips, anticipating what he might say—or better yet, do. But hesitation replaced the flicker, dousing the flame.
“You sure you haven’t seen anyone lurking around?” Concern riddled his words as his hand absently stroked her shoulder.
Her brain focused on those fingertips for a millisecond before she responded, “No.”
“I think being in such a desolate location as this cabin has set your vivid imagination on fire and rekindled your muse.” His tone softened. “So you want to write ghost tales? Then do it.”
Her stomach sank. God, they’d been best friends forever. What was she thinking? The recent sex dreams starring Elijah had tormented her nights. Having him here, alone with her in this cabin in the middle of nowhere, this was a fantasy come true. She’d been secretly attracted to him for years, but never acted on it because of her marriage. She believed in those vows, even when Tony hadn’t. She stra
ightened, placing a bit of space between them. But was she woman enough to follow through on these feelings now? She hadn’t been with another man for almost eight years. Granted, she hadn’t had sex with her ex in the last three, not since the night she’d first suspected him of cheating. She mentally shook the images from her brain and forced herself to focus on what Elijah had asked.
“Maybe romances with paranormal elements.”
“Everybody’s doing it. Not sure I can sell it with the market slush right now.” Her eyes landed on his hand as it brushed the renegade lock that had fallen over his brow back into place. Her fingers twitched to do that for him. “How about romance with a murderous element?”
Anora sat upright, a bit too quickly, and her head spun from the wine. She caught the arm of the swing to steady herself and breathed deeply the wonderful scent of the fresh rain mixed with wet wilderness smell. Nothing like a good dose of air to clear the head. A hint of an idea took root in the base of her brain. She could do this. She could write a murderous romance, and she knew just the name she’d give the first character she’d kill off.
She stood, leaned and kissed Elijah on the cheek. Hovering nearly nose-to-nose, she made the mistake of inhaling the essence of the man. Inch a bit to the left and she’d get that taste she desperately wanted. Anora righted, spun, and called over her shoulder, “Let me think on it. You’re welcome to use the downstairs guest room. It’s the door beside the stairs.”
The screen door slammed behind her, making her flinch. Before he followed her inside, Anora hurried across the room and upstairs. Anora flopped across the bed. With Elijah sleeping in the same house, this was going to be a long, hard night filled with frustrated, unfulfilled dreams. She punched the pillow, before she rose and dressed for bed.
Chapter Three
Elijah stood outside the screened door and watched her cute ass until she reached the top of the staircase. Missed the moment. Her lips were so close he smelled the wine on her breath. He swore he’d seen desire in those beautiful green eyes. Sitting beside her on the swing, he’d ached to tangle his fingers in her long red hair, especially that lock of natural blonde that ran down the right side of her face. It was a streak of nature making her oddly more beautiful to him. Her ex made her try to dye it to match the rest, but the color never took. Elijah smiled at the memory. It was her body’s way of telling her to leave it be.
Thinking of her body had him wishing he’d followed her. She was perfectly rounded in all the right places as far as he was concerned. That damn asshole, Tony, kept her on edge about her weight nearly twenty-four-seven. He snorted. The jerk had a beer belly. What gave him the right to condemn? Elijah had shared that opinion with Anora every chance he’d gotten.
He walked in, empty glasses in hand, and headed to the kitchen. They’d shared a spark. He felt it and he sensed she had as well. For a second, he’d almost acted on it, but sensed her hesitation. He checked the back door to assure it was locked, before stepping through the swinging door. It squeaked sharply, making him cringe. That he would fix tomorrow.
Longingly, he stood at the base of the stairs, contemplating his next move. Follow her, or wait. Hell, he’d gotten good at waiting—years of it. Elijah resolved to stick to his plan as he walked out, retrieved his overnight bag from the trunk and locked the door. From its solitary location, he doubted anyone would break into the car. On the ride here, he hadn’t seen many neighboring houses and almost missed the narrow driveway in the pouring rain. He squinted in the direction of the lake but couldn’t see it. The continuing storm made it difficult. Trees lined the small front yard. Their moss-covered limbs hung low, weighed heavy by the rain as they danced freakily in the wind. Elijah shook his head at the thought. Damn! He’d been hanging around authors for way too long.
Even though he held an umbrella, he hustled back inside before getting completely soaked through. He shook it closed and leaned it against the outside wall beside the front door before entering.
Looking around, he noted the log cabin wasn’t huge. If he had a guess, it was nearly a hundred years old. Someone renovated it and turned it into a vacation rental by the lake. It had two bedrooms. Anora had told him the second floor consisted of the master bedroom, bathroom and a closet. The main floor had an open floor plan. The front door opened into the main family room, complete with a fireplace, big comfy couch and chairs. A desk sat in the far corner to the right of the door and had an an old swivelchair. An antique grandfather clock stood watch beside the front door. The stairs ran along the wall to the second floor. At the back of the first floor, from left to right, was the small kitchen, beside that a full bath with a shower, no tub, and on the opposite side of that the guest bedroom, which just to the left of the staircase.
Elijah opened the door, flipped the light switch. Nothing fancy inside—a queen-size bed, nightstand and an old wooden armoire stood in the corner. A small lamp on the nightstand barely lit the room. He wouldn’t be catching up on any reading by that. Something banged against the cabin and scratched along the solitary window of his room. The wall shook. Elijah dropped his bag on the bed, zipped it open and withdrew the one thing his grandpa had left him, a Colt forty-five. It was probably the storm causing branches to knock against the cabin. He eased his shoulder against the wall and peered out the corner of the window into the darkness of the roaring storm. Nothing. What the hell did he think he’d see?
Had to be those stories of unexplained disappearances she’d shared that had him spooked. Guess coming from a long line of cops gave him a suspicious mind. And a weapon. He’d never fit the mold for a cop. He remembered telling his grandpa. He loved books. Fell in love with the whole publishing industry in college. He shook his head as he checked the safety and placed the gun back in his bag. If it wasn’t for his grandpa’s encouragement, he wouldn’t have started his own literary agency, and he wouldn’t have landed his finest client. The woman he…
He eyed the ceiling, knowing her bed probably sat directly above this one. When she’d told him she was leaving the city to gather her thoughts, he’d expected her to disappear to a spa somewhere, not a log cabin by a lake deep in the woods. A spooky damn cabin at that, he snorted. The divorce took its toll, wore on her soul to the point she’d lost weight and her muse had taken a dive into hiding. It was his job to bring it back. The world deserved more stories from A. G. Barrett.
Something thumped behind him. Elijah straightened, turned. Had a shadow moved in the corner? What made the noise? Eek, eek, eek, whoosh. He stalled. That he decided was the wind and a limb hitting against the window and the cabin. The lamplight flickered. Power surge. He hoped the storm wouldn’t take down the lines. Squeak. Scratch. Thump. He moved around the room, honing in on the noises. His heart raced and he breathed deeply, trying to steel his nerves. Standing in front of the large, wooden, ornately carved, tall armoire, he grasped the handle.
He tugged. It didn’t budge. With both hands, he pulled the jammed door until it flung open. He stumbled, off-balance, as something black and large flew out at him. The dark shape surrounded him, covering him from head to toe. The more he struggled with it, the tighter it wrapped around him, confining him, suffocating him with its musty, putrid smell. Elijah tripped, landed hard on the floor and rolled around until he won the battle. He freed himself from his adversary, stood, then burst into laughter at his stupidity. A blanket had attacked him and nearly won.
A creak overhead stilled his laughter. Was she walking about or was that the mattress while she got comfortable? Elijah scrubbed a hand down his face. This was going to be a long weekend, knowing she lay above him and not in the fashion he’d fantasized about for years.
He stripped down to his boxers, kicked the blanket into a pile in the corner and crawled into bed. He plumped the pillows behind him and caught sight of a mouse scurrying from the armoire. Well, that explained the mystery noises as far as he was concerned.
Complete darkness filled the room when he switched off the lamp. This was definitel
y not like the city where the billboards acted as a nightlight even with the window blinds shut. Elijah shifted, settling in the bed. This reminded him of the backwoods swamps of the Carolinas where he was raised. Dark nights, no lights, and the beauty of a sky filled with stars. Maybe tomorrow they’d see the stars because tonight was all about the storm. Thunder rumbled while the deluge of rain pounded the roof slates.
Coldness brushed his cheek. Elijah opened his eyes, disoriented for a moment, before he remembered his location. Feeling for the watch he never removed, he touched a button, lighting the dial. Two a.m. Why was he awake? He rolled onto his side as the light faded, and he froze. Something caught the corner of his eye. Blinking, he adjusted his vision to the darkness, turning toward the object. A low shimmering glow hovered in his doorway. It flickered in a series of long, then short bursts of levels of brightness, beckoning him to watch. He didn’t believe what he saw.
Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, then reached for his glasses. Once his vision adjusted, the image remained; yet now it traveled, moving in his direction. It had to be the wine combined with Anora’s ghostly tale about this cabin that created this surreal dream. He tired to convince himself his imagination was running rampant. He shook his head against the pillow, attempting to clear his thoughts. When he opened his eyes, it had grown.
The object spun, casting rays of sparkling white light, dispersing them like arrows bouncing around the room. Elijah ducked as these beams whizzed dangerously near his head. His earlobe stung when one zinged past. He touched one, looked at his fingers but saw no blood. The temperature dropped, making him shiver. What the hell was this thing? He inched lower on the bed, trying to work his way to the overnight bag and his gun. Seconds before he reached it, the bag forcefully launched across the room into the armoire and the doors slammed shut.
Elijah prayed this was a nightmare and he’d wake soon. Then it hit him. What if it wasn’t Anora! He couldn’t let this thing go after Anora. He attempted to roll away from the spinning ball of brightness, but his body refused to move. It was as if unseen ties suddenly bound him to the bed.
Never Fear - The Tarot: Do You Really Want To Know? Page 17