Dane’s gaze became ice-cold. “My personal life isn’t your concern.”
The rage seething in my veins burned hotter. “Your personal life isn’t my business?” My fists tightened, ready to deck this man right up to the damn moon. “Oh, I see, but it’s all right that you happily fucked with mine?”
Dane’s eyes narrowed into slits, and his lips parted, no doubt ready to offer another round of insults, when Amelia interjected, “Stop it, Dane. She’s here to help.”
After a long staring contest I wouldn’t dare lose, Dane turned away from me to his wife and sighed. In the same moment, Gretchen squeezed my hand, probably because my limbs trembled.
Jerking my head toward Gretchen, I spotted her troubled expression and I didn’t need further confirmation. I was stuck between fucked and royally fucked. I had bound myself to the promise with Wayde. As much as I wanted to leave and refuse to help Dane, considering Alexander was family to him, I couldn’t. But something else at the moment held an equal concern. “Did you know about this?”
“I told Wayde to tell Dane to stay away.” Gretchen glared at Wayde before looking back at me with a softer expression. “Regardless that he clearly ignored me, Dane doesn’t have to be involved and you need their help. They will have answers for Kipp. There is no other way, Tess.”
I did need their assistance—badly—but my mind remained fixated on Dane. “If he doesn’t have to be involved in this, then why is he here?”
She frowned at the enemy. “Why, indeed?”
“Alexander was my family,” Dane retorted with a bite to his voice. “I’m staying in this house until we find answers for him. Deal with it.”
Pulling out of Gretchen’s hand, I shook my arms out, shedding my need to castrate Dane. You’re doing this for Kipp. Besides, what choice did I have now? The promise to Wayde couldn’t be undone, even if now I regretted doing the binding spell. “Fine. You’re here. I can’t change that. But stay the hell out of my way.” I pointed at Dane, hoping my finger looked like a knife ready to slit his throat. “I mean it.”
He scoffed. “Not an issue.”
“We’re grateful,” Amelia interjected with a smile her husband didn’t extend, and tears filled her eyes. “Anything you offer can help us.”
Dane glanced down at her and all the coldness directed at me melted away to a warm expression. While normally I’d have a gooey moment, it boiled my blood to witness their love. Dane had her, I lost Kipp because of him, and he caused my heart to shatter. His happiness infuriated me.
“She’ll find him,” Dane said softly.
Amelia wiped her cheeks and smiled at him, then at me. “I know.”
The sadness drifting along her expression touched a part of me I wanted to hide in Dane’s presence—my kindness. I cursed under my breath, hating I couldn’t be a cold-hearted bitch. “I’ll do what I can, Amelia.” Gratefulness filled her features and I disliked that I couldn’t hate her. I wanted to, simply because she associated herself with Dane. “Where do I start?”
“Dane has felt his presence in the swamp,” Amelia said, continuing to brush the fallen tears off her cheeks. “It's faint, but he still lingers there.”
I sighed at the daunting situation, for more reasons than the obvious. “Do you have any rain boots?”
All notes of misery vanished from Amelia’s face, replaced by an arched lip. “Rain boots?”
At any other time, her bemused expression might amuse me, but the seriousness now erased the funny. “If you expect me to ruin my Jimmy Choos trudging around in a swamp, magical promise or not, the deal is off.”
Amelia considered me a moment, and then looked at Dane. “Get her boots.” At his answering scowl, she gave him a look, making me want to do a fist pump. “Now, Dane.”
His death-look shot to me before he left the room.
Amelia sighed, watching her husband vanish into the hallway, then she turned to me. “You’re a guest in this house. My father would have welcomed you, so I want you to be comfortable. If you need anything, do ask.”
I wanted to point out I didn’t intend to stay in this house, especially if Dane remained. I intended to go find Alexander in the damn swamp, discover who killed him, then get what I needed and get out. But why bother wasting my breath?
Besides, it seemed almost wrong to be cruel to Amelia considering her grief. Perhaps she wouldn’t be an enemy, considering she appeared to be on my side. If Dane pissed me off, I’d send Amelia after him. My advantage was she needed me to find her father. Like the saying goes, payback is a bitch.
If I had my way, Dane would become Amelia’s bitch before I left Louisiana.
Chapter Three
I should’ve stayed inside or refused the idea altogether, with or without the rain boots. The night was eerily dark with no light in the yard except the spotlights pointed at the mansion.
With a sigh, I yanked myself away from the stunning house in all its Victorian beauty, and glanced at the stream of light offered by my flashlight. Gretchen swept her beam of light from left-to-right. Why? I had no idea; she couldn’t see a ghost anyway. Lucky her.
I had to admit, having her next to me was comforting. Like hell, I’d go out into a spooky swamp alone. Gretchen would remain glued to my side, since right now, I didn’t trust anyone here, and the oddest sense of worry engulfed me. Creepy sensations like icy fingertips crawled up my spine. Not a real shock—I never did well with scary places.
As we trudged through the wide open yard, I cursed Amelia’s rain boots. They were slightly too big and not only did my feet slide around, but the tops came up to my knees, since she was an inch or two taller than me. Each step had me clenching my toes to keep the boots in place as they squished into the damp grass below.
“Do you see him?” Gretchen asked.
I glanced away from the grass lit up by my flashlight and focused on her. “Of course not. I can barely see anything.” Turning back to the yard, I scanned through the dark night and inhaled the sweet scents of nature. The house was to my back and the yard was stuffed full of big, healthy trees. But as we drew closer to the swamp, stagnant water made the air less pleasant.
When we reached the edge of the swamp, I stood where the water met the dirt. My flashlight lit up the water, showing tiny fish swimming about. Endless plants surrounded the swamp, all giving off a lovely fresh scent, even if the swamp itself smelled musky. A bullfrog made a low croaking noise somewhere in the water, but being a pitch-black night, I couldn’t see it sitting atop a lily pad.
“Hello,” I called, feeling silly. “Alexander?” I paused a moment, but when only silence greeted me, I added, “If you are out here, why you picked a gross swamp to stay at is totally beyond me.”
“We’re not Alexander,” a feminine voice said.
Whipping around, goose bumps trailed my arms, and I spotted three ghosts behind me, two men and one woman. Terrific! “I need to speak to Alexander. You will have to wait. So, get in line and take a ticket. I’ll get back to you when I can.”
A young man, who was maybe in his early twenties, gasped in surprise. “Did she hear you, Victoria?” His hair was messy, spiked in complete disorder, and his brown eyes were soft. The gentle contours of his face portrayed youth and his slender body told me he didn’t eat well before he died.
Victoria nodded frantically at him, clutching at the front of her nineteenth century white blouse. “Yes. Yes. Sammy, she heard me.”
The older man stepped forward, looking me over from head-to-toe. No doubt he’d died centuries ago, since his breeches and boots with tailored jacket looked ridiculous next to Sammy’s casual clothes from the eighties. “How can you see us?”
“Oh, no, we are not doing this,” I snapped. “I have enough ghosts to help, thank you very much. I can’t deal with you right now.”
Victoria’s blue eyes widened. “Can you help us…leave here?”
“Yes, I can, but not now.”
While I felt bad for them—I really did—I also didn�
��t have the patience to take on anything else. The moment I opened the doors of communication they’d suck me in with their sad story. I had officially reached my limit.
Remembering the power I owned, that Dane had taught me, I pushed my irritation into my voice. “You are to leave me alone—all of you. Go away.”
As my lips sealed shut, they instantly winked out of existence and the dark night settled in once again. I’d never been so happy to see nothing but black sky. I sighed. “Thank God that works.”
“How many were there?” Gretchen laughed.
“Three.” I gave her a look. “In this old place, I imagine they won’t be the only ones pestering me.”
Before she could respond, a sudden shimmer flickered in my peripheral vision. I jerked my head to the side and an odd light formed. I turned to fully face the white orb that fluttered around in front of me. It started at the ground then floated about a foot above me. Slowly, the light began to become solid. “This is weird.”
Gretchen stepped in next to me. “What’s weird?”
I’d never seen a ghost look like…a ghost. Normally, they looked like everyday people—exactly like the ones I’d just seen—only the goose bumps along my body and the sensation of coldness indicated spirit. But weird might not have been a strong enough description for the happenings now. “Do you not see the light?” I pointed at the strange glow. “Right there, in front of me?”
“I see nothing,” Gretchen replied in a low, drawn out voice.
Perhaps I suspected she would, since it was bright enough to force me to squint. The change of light to a solid happened so gradually, as if I could see each part of the body forming. Fingers shaped, arms and legs followed, all building from the mass of light. “It’s a ghost.” I shook my head, searching to find the right words. “I mean, it was light, and now it’s becoming a ghost.”
“What?” Gretchen gasped.
I would’ve looked over at her and nodded in agreement over the same sort of shock I heard in her voice, but I thought it wise to keep looking at the ghost in case something happened. Exactly what would happen, I had no idea. “He looks like an apparition.”
Gretchen sighed. “Which is different than usual because…?”
“They’re never see-through.”
Gretchen stayed silent. Maybe she took the hint I knew nothing else, since I definitely would’ve told her. I shielded my eyes against the piercing light as the misty haze continued to morph into the shape of a body.
One blink later, the body had formed.
It still, in no way, resembled anything I’d seen before. The man figure wasn’t solid. I could, in fact, look right through him. But his features were there. A crooked nose, wrinkled face, short white hair, and dark eyes, even if I couldn’t make out the color.
Standing to the right of the swamp, he stared at me and a long awkward pause followed. I figured best get right to it. “Are you Alexander?”
He waved.
I finally looked at Gretchen and she watched me fiercely, thoughts clearly rummaging in her mind. Then, she turned to where I’d been looking. “Is he there now?”
“Yes.” I regarded Alexander and his odd state. “But he’s different—ghost-like.”
Gretchen snorted a laugh. “You do realize that sounds peculiar.”
“It is peculiar,” I retorted, equally as sharp.
I wondered if his condition had been caused because his death was recent, but immediately ruled out the thought. Kipp had been shot only days before he made contact with me, and he didn’t look like Alexander.
After a moment of examining the strangeness before me, I gave up on trying to figure it out myself. “Your daughter asked me to come and find you. Why are you hiding?”
He shook his head.
I scrunched up my nose, gazing over him from head-to-toe, noting something was more off than the off it already was. “Can you talk?”
Again, he shook his head.
“Yes, very weird. You are see-through and can’t talk.” At his nod, I glanced at Gretchen, who had lifted her flashlight enough to see her face. “You’re the witch. Do you know why this is?”
“No.” She frowned. “He can’t talk to you?”
“Doesn’t appear so.”
Gretchen sighed, her gaze lowering to the ground where she slid the tip of her shoe against the grass. When she finally raised her head, sadness swam across her features. “I’m sorry this has happened, Alexander. Can you somehow tell us who did this to you?”
I rolled my eyes. How would he show us if he couldn’t talk? But then I looked at Alexander. His head tilted back as if he was looking at the sky, pondering, before he glanced at me again.
He held up a finger.
“A finger,” I stated.
He shook his head and, even in his current state, he looked frustrated with a furrowed brow and tight set to his jaw. His eyes focused as he lowered his hand, only to raise a finger a moment later.
I considered him, trying to understand his point, and inhaled the murky air around me. The more he repeated himself, the more an absurd thought formed in my mind of a similar action I’d seen as a child. A game my parents used to play. Seeing that he kept doing it, I figured it better to rule it out as ridiculous so we could move on. “Are you suggesting we play charades?”
He nodded.
“What?” Gretchen gasped.
Chapter Four
The bullfrog croaked again and I grumbled a curse. Without a doubt, the confirmation from Alexander showed on my face because Gretchen’s smile died off, and her expression became measured. “Actually, that’s brilliant.”
While I agreed with her, with no other form of communication, this one was a good alternative, but caused a huge problem. “Just so you know, I’m terrible at charades and lose every game. But hopefully I’ve gotten better.” I thought over what he’d shown me, remembering the rules my parents had taught me. “All right. So, one word.”
He tapped his nose indicating right answer with an approving smile. After which, he wrapped his hand around his throat.
“Strangled,” I offered.
Again, he tapped his nose, then he pointed at the ground.
I glanced to where he had pointed, eying the dark water before I turned to him in full understanding. “You were strangled at the swamp.”
He nodded.
“By who?”
His eyes became sad and he shrugged.
I nibbled my lip as a cricket now joined in with the bullfrog and I considered what he had already shown. It didn’t add up. “You didn’t see who killed you?”
He shook his head.
A hundred questions raced through my mind, all of which would remain unanswered. I gazed over him, regarded his peculiar situation and a thought formed. This situation was even stranger than I first suspected. I looked at Gretchen. “After Alexander died, did you see his body?”
“No.” She hesitated. “Why?”
“Because, how is he remembering all this?” Ghosts only remembered what they needed to, to cross over—nothing more. The fine details of his death weren’t relevant to easing his distress to ensure he crossed in peace. If ghosts remembered some finer details, it was because they had been a ghost for years, which seemed to bring clearer memories. “Kipp is the only ghost who retained his memory and that’s because he’s not dead.”
Gretchen’s eyes widened, but then she shook her head. “Dane told me he was cremated, meaning they did have his body. They had a very private service with Dane and Amelia, and plan to hold a larger memorial after this situation is resolved for the members to say goodbye to him.” She nibbled her lip, gazing over the spot Alexander stood, yet clearly only seeing the dark night. “I wonder if Alexander cast a spell before he died allowing for him to remember.”
Alexander touched his nose.
“Yup, he did.” I ground my teeth together. “This would be a lot easier without this…restriction.”
He appeared to sigh, and the slight incline
of his head confirmed his equal frustration.
Glancing up at the sky, the stars above me twinkled, and I found myself at a loss as to where to go from here. If I couldn’t talk to him, how could I get answers? Truth was, I couldn’t, so I changed tactics. “Why do you look like you do?”
He pointed at Gretchen.
I turned an accusation glare onto her, my heart skipped a beat, and my voice sounded on a snarl. “You did this to him?”
“I did not.” She gasped.
An icy cold tickle sped up my arm and had me glancing to Alexander, my breath lost to me. It didn’t rattle me that a ghost touched me, but it was the reminder of what Kipp’s touch felt like…and how much I missed it.
Tears threatened to rise and I forced them back on a deep swallow. Alexander’s dismayed expression somehow made me believe he understood. He pointed at Gretchen again, his gaze intent. Shaking the thoughts off Kipp, I shoved the memory away and considered Alexander’s message. “A witch?”
Nodding, he waved his hand, urging me on.
“Magic,” I offered.
With a sad smile, he tapped his nose.
“Ah, gotcha.” I turned to Gretchen, discovering her scowling at me. Clearly, I had insulted her. I understood; we’d become close in an odd circumstance, but if she had accused me, I would’ve ripped a strip off her. “Okay, I’m sorry I blamed you. You never would have done anything like this, but cut me a break. It’s all very confusing.”
She lifted her chin, unfolding her arms. “I accept your apology.” Her look of vindication shone through her gaze before her eyes narrowed. “Don’t do it again.” After a long stern stare down, she relaxed her features. “Now, what’s this about magic?”
“He said—or gestured, I mean to say—that it’s magic.”
She studied me a moment, then she turned to the spot where I’d been looking at Alexander. “You suspect someone used magic on you at the time of your death?” Without giving me a chance to get his response, she added, “Actually, that makes sense. Perhaps someone used a spell on Alexander to force him to cross over, but he stopped them.”
Mystically Bound (Frostbite, Book Three) Page 2