by Ani Gonzalez
I want to sleep in peace. I want the dreams to cease. I want to break the curse. I want to right the past. What do I need to do? Guide me.
The kitchen lights flickered and she opened her eyes. The lights flashed on and off, then went dark. She was alone in the dark, with only a few candles for light.
Alone. In the dark. In a cursed house.
But the house didn't feel cursed right now. It suddenly felt...interested, almost expectant. As if it were waiting to see what happened. The presence around her didn't feel hostile. It felt kind.
As Kat stirred the oil, a strange feeling crept over her. This had happened before. Someone had stood in this room and stirred the oil, she was certain. The tiny stone on her wedding ring winked, seemingly agreeing with her.
She closed her eyes again. Fix this. Fix this.
A sudden breeze swept through the kitchen. The candles flickered.
But they didn't go out.
She felt a force around her, something powerful and sorrowful. It didn't feel dark. It just felt sad.
She kept stirring. Fix this. Fix this.
As incantations went, it was probably pretty lame. She wished she knew Latin or even her Grandmother's native Spanish. That would sound witchier. Unfortunately, she didn't know either. All she could do was focus on her goal.
What do I need to do?
The flames stilled. The atmosphere felt electric, like the sky before a lightning storm. The world seemed to stop. A feeling of power swept over her.
"Kat?" Liam's voice came from the mudroom area. "Did we blow a fuse?"
The feeling of power vanished as soon as he spoke. She was left alone in a dark kitchen with only a couple of candles for illumination.
"Kat? Are you okay?"
"In the kitchen," she replied, her voice shaky. "I have candles."
"I'm going to check the fuse box."
She heard his footsteps echoing down the stairs as she hurriedly poured the oil into a glass bottle and hid the remaining ingredients in a nearby cabinet. She dropped the dirty bowl and spoon into the sink and poured water and dishwashing liquid on them.
Then she remembered that she hadn't applied the oil. She dabbed the scented mixture on her wrists, neck, forehead and chest, like the Santelli book instructed. The lights came on as she started to wash the dirty bowl.
"Are the lights on?" Liam asked as he approached the kitchen.
"Yes," she said, putting the bowl on the drying rack with a shaky hand.
He entered the kitchen holding a brown paper bag. "Were they out for long?"
He was dressed in a gray t-shirt and jeans and looked very normal. She suddenly felt horribly self-conscious. What was she thinking, lighting candles and casting spells? Had she gone insane?
"Nope." She washed the spoon and set it aside. There, she'd disposed of the evidence. There was nothing to show that she'd been silly enough to try a magic spell.
Nothing, that is, except for the tall bottle of golden liquid that sat next to the sink.
Liam put the bag on the countertop. She was suddenly acutely conscious of his nearness. Amy's words rang in her head.
I can tell you what you've forgotten.
Liam patted her shoulder in what was probably meant to be a platonic, reassuring gesture.
His touch, however, made shivers run through her skin. An electric residue, similar to the surge of power she'd felt during the spell, ran down her body.
"We blew a fuse," he explained. "Which is not supposed to happen. If it happens again, tell me. I may have to bring in my electrician."
She nodded, even though she had the distinct feeling that an electrician would not help.
At all.
He scanned the counter, taking in the glass bottle surrounded by glowing candles. "Good thing you had the candles handy."
He smiled, and it made her melt. The warm feeling disappeared when she realized that the candles still bore tags that read "Sorceresses' Best."
Liam chuckled. "What were you doing here? Magic?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KAT BLUSHED. Was it his imagination or was that a particularly meaningful reaction?
Nah. He opened the take out bags and took out two plastic containers. Caine had brought up the question of S-E-X, but that didn't mean that Kat, of all people, was thinking along those lines. She was probably completely oblivious.
He wasn't, though. He was thinking about it really hard right now. Kat was wearing the flannel pants and t-shirt combo she always wore to bed, and she looked like she'd just taken a shower. He didn't know what shower gel she used, but she smelled delicious, a mixture of roses and other scents he couldn't identify. Chamomile?
Whatever it was, it was enthralling.
She quickly blew on the candles and extinguished the flames.
"Don't be silly," she said, not meeting his eyes. "These were just the only candles around."
The words yanked him out of his reverie. Yes, he should stop obsessing over Caine's comments. The guy wanted a freaking Sasquatch blind, for Pete's sake.
"Yolanda must have left them behind after her last exorcism."
Kat shifted her feet, as if suddenly uncomfortable, and he instantly regretted his words. Why remind her of the curse.
Time for a distraction. He walked to a cabinet and took out two bowls and a plate for the bread. "Can you get some spoons? I'm starving."
She hurriedly opened a drawer. "What did you bring?"
"Remember Zach?" He set the bowls and the plate on the kitchen table. "He owns the pizzeria and he made us some Italian wedding soup as a belated present."
"Poltergeist Pizza?" Kat stared at the bags in undisguised interest.
"Yes," Liam opened the plastic containers, unveiling the appetizing contents. "It's a new recipe. They're calling it the Bride of Frankenstein soup."
Kat grabbed a small plastic bag and held it up. "Hence the lightning bolt croutons."
"Exactly." He smiled at her joke, but it was through gritted teeth. Her body had grazed his as she'd bent to pick up the croutons and the shock of arousal surprised him.
He never reacted to women this way. Never. What the hell was wrong with him? All he could was think about was her flannel-encased body.
And the intoxicating scent of roses and who knew what else.
"Did you ask Yolanda and Amy about the curse?" he asked, trying to ignore the magnetic smell.
Kat jerked, as if surprised. "Er, yes."
She seemed embarrassed and he wondered why. "Did they tell you anything useful?"
Another blush spread over her cheeks. "No." She peered into the bag and he had the distinct feeling that she was trying to avoid his gaze. "How about you, did you ask Caine if there was anything else we had to do to break the curse?"
"Yes. He wasn't helpful either. He's far more interested in this Yeti-hunting structure he wants me to build. All I got was a two-hour lecture on the eye anatomy of the Sasquatch."
"Really? How would they know?"
"One of their guys consulted a simian anatomy expert. He catalogued all the known sighting and photos and figured out the distances. That allowed them to estimate the vision range. From there, they developed a Sasquatch eye recreation."
"All I got from Amy was her marketing strategy for the Chinese Ghost Festival. It involves floating lanterns and flammable Monopoly money."
"Don't remind me. I have to build a platform for that too."
He poured out the soup into the bowls while Kat took the bread out of the bag. He found himself staring at her, her domestic movements oddly enthralling. He forced himself to look away, but it took great effort.
"Ouch." Kat threw the bread loaves on the plate. "It's super hot."
"It's straight out of the..." He turned toward her and lost his train of thought as she put a finger in her mouth and sucked on it to relieve the pain. He cursed, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward the sink. He turned on the faucet and put her hand under the water.
"Liam," she sque
aled as the ice cold liquid ran over her skin. "It's not even a real burn."
She was right. Her flesh wasn't even pink.
But if it wasn't a real burn, why had she licked and sucked on the wounded flesh, making him think of that lush mouth wrapped around...other parts?
He tried to push the thought away, but her shapely butt rubbing against him as she strained to escape his grip wasn't helping.
He shut off the water. Kat turned and faced him, her brown eyes wide and dark. They stared at each other for a long minute, the scent of roses swirling around him.
"Let's get the first aid kit," he said.
"Let's get the soup," she said at the same time.
They both stopped, then laughed.
She licked her lips, and he couldn't look away from the sight of her mouth. His fists clenched. He didn't know what was going on, but he had to put a stop to it. He absolutely, positively couldn't kiss funny, precious, maddening Kat.
Even if he sorely wanted to.
It wasn't part of the deal. He had to focus on that. Their arrangement was that they would live in the house as man and wife until the place was sold. Once that was done, she'd be going home to New York.
And he wouldn't see her again.
The thought hurt, but he pushed it aside. He had to focus on the deal.
"Let's get the first aid kit," he said tightly. "Better safe than sorry."
Kat's warm dark eyes settled on his. She raised her hand and flexed it.
"I don't need first aid." She placed her hand on his shirt, directly over his heart. The contact made his breath catch.
The deal. He had to think about the deal.
But he couldn't. She smelled like flowers and spring and all he could do was stare at her mouth and wonder what those lovely pink lips tasted like.
Crazy. He'd gone crazy.
She grabbed his shirt and leaned up.
"I need this."
In an instant her lips were on his. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative as if she were exploring dangerous territory.
Which she definitely was. It took every ounce of self-control he had to stand still and let her kiss him. A strange feeling of deja vù came over him, as if he'd done this before. As if he'd stood in this kitchen, surrounded by spent candles and the scent of roses, and kissed this woman before.
That was impossible. The kitchen was new. He'd built it himself.
The feeling faded away and Kat's kiss took over his senses. He struggled to remain still, but she bit down on his lower lip and his control snapped. He grabbed her tightly and lifted her up, pressing her curvy body tight against his. He heard a loud growl and realized that it came from him.
The ceiling lights flickered, then went out. He paused, confused. They should stop. He should go check on something. Fuse box? Bandages?
But Kat was pushing up his shirt, her lips crawling down his chest and her tongue licking his flesh greedily. All thought fled from his brain. It wasn't dangerous, he told himself. All they needed was the light from Kat's candles.
Wait, hadn't Kat extinguished the candles? And yet, he could see them all lit up on the counter, surrounding a bottle that seemed to glow brighter than their light.
But then Kat's hands reached his belt buckle and reason fled.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE MORNING light hit Kat's eyes. She turned and snuggled back into the pillow, unwilling to let go of her dream. The master bedroom bedding was undeniably cozy, but that wasn't what was keeping her in bed.
It was the dream.
She sighed and let her thoughts drift, floating back into her dream. Liam was nude on the floor of the kitchen, his muscles glowing in the candlelight. She was straddling him, naked as the day she was born, holding the bottle of chamomile oil. She tilted it, letting the aromatic liquid fall on his flesh. He jerked and his eyes darkened as she rubbed the oil into his skin. She could feel his body hardening beneath her.
She stilled her hand and opened her eyes. This was no dream, at least not all of it. Her hand really was touching hard flesh.
Liam's flesh.
He was in bed with her. Naked.
She peeked under her covers. Yep, she was naked too. Naked and sore in interesting places.
Her Kill-The-Bad-Dreams spell?
One thousand percent effective. Not bad for a newbie witch. The curse was definitely broken now. It had to be.
They'd broken it on the kitchen floor. Then on the rug in the living room. Then the dining room table, where Liam had sat her down, legs spread so he could do unmentionable things. Then he carried her upstairs to the guest bedroom, where they'd drenched the bed in aromatic oil. Bed ruined, they'd finally ended up in the master bedroom, curled around each other.
Yep, they'd broken the curse in pretty much every single room in the house.
Except the foyer, of course. That's where Liam had drawn the line. He didn't want to take a chance with that chandelier.
The hazy dream faded, replaced by sunlit reality. She smiled. She couldn't help it. She felt good, better than she'd ever felt before.
Sure, this was still a business arrangement. Hot sex didn't change that. She was still leaving for New York as soon as they sold this house, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the here and now.
The thought of leaving made her sad, which was very surprising. The house had, after all, tried to kill her car. She pushed the feeling away by focusing on the one thing that would make this morning even better.
Bagels.
Liam was going to sleep in for sure—she'd really drained him last night—but he'd probably wake up hungry. They never got to the soup, which was now chilling in the fridge, so they'd gone to bed without dinner. She was absolutely starving now.
She crawled out of bed, making sure not to wake up Liam, and headed for the walk-in closet. She needed a bagel fix now.
The closet was still mostly empty. She'd brought pretty much all her clothes for the extended stay, but they only occupied a small corner of the cavernous room. Frankly, even if she brought over all the stuff in her New Rochelle storage unit, it would only fill a quarter of this closet. It was immense.
Which meant the house should sell very well.
She dressed quickly, not wanting to think about that. She could, she had to admit, become fond of the house. It was hard to be objective about a place when you'd thoroughly debauched a beautiful man in nearly all of its rooms.
The house was not so bad. It actually looked rather cheerful this morning, she thought as she admired the sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. She drew the curtains so the light wouldn't wake up Liam, but that didn't change the general feel of the house. It felt happy.
Maybe they'd really broken the curse this time. The thought made her giggle. She'd definitely gone above and beyond the call of duty, hadn't she?
She walked down the stairs and exited the house through the back door. Even if the curse was finally broken, they should probably wait a couple of days before using the front door.
The bright summer morning was warm but not overly hot, so she could actually walk to town without melting into a puddle of goo. Good thing, too, because her car was still in Rafe's shop. Luckily, she was a New Yorker and walking was in her blood.
She headed for Main Street. The bakery was a good place to start. She hadn't seen bagels during her last visit, but they had to have some, right? What was a bakery without bagels? Hopefully, they'd have some lox and cream cheese to go with them. Onions and capers would be even better, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. This was the boonies, after all. Civilization hadn't reached Banshee Creek yet.
She walked down the street, visions of thinly-sliced smoked salmon dancing in her head. The Hagen House sat on top of a hill in a small residential neighborhood close to Main Street. It was the kind of neighborhood that had Craftsman bungalows, small Colonial houses, and dignified Victorians in various states of disrepair. Liam's house was the biggest one on the street.
A hand
some couple with a tow-headed two-year-old waved hello as she walked by. An older woman greeted her as she walked her ancient basset hound. Everyone seemed happy and friendly.
Hauntings notwithstanding, Banshee Creek seemed like nice place to live.
She turned onto Main Street and headed for the bakery. The town was getting ready for the Ghost Festival and the PRoVE contingent was out in force, hanging red Chinese lanterns from the lampposts and putting up banners with intricate calligraphy. She peered at the decorations, trying to see if there was a translation written somewhere.
"No subtitles this time," one of the PRoVE staff said as he carried a ladder up the street. "But don't worry. Most of them just say "Greetings, Good Brothers" and "Good tidings, Uncles."
Kat frowned. "Who are the brothers and uncles?"
He placed the ladder on the street, right next to a lamppost. "The ghosts. They are terms of respect. Hey, at least they look festive."
Kat laughed and kept on walking, admiring the decorations. The shops were busy putting up new window displays and the restaurateurs were updating their menus. The movie theater was displaying a list of Hong Kong films they planned to show for the movie festival. Apparently, they were showcasing the jianshi or "hopping vampire" genre. Kat had no idea what that was, but she could see that their marketing chief had a big crush on Maggie Cheung. Her picture was everywhere. Even the pizzeria got into the groove with a Hungry Ghost All-You-Can-Eat Pizza Buffet featuring unlimited plum sangría and Ching-Ling Yam Linguini.
This place was growing on her.
The botánica was the only exception to the hustle and bustle around her. The sign announced that the store was open, but the store was dark and seemed to be empty. A pile of boxes sat in front of the door, and the "Help Wanted" ad she'd seen yesterday now sported additional exclamation points.
She inspected the packages around the front door. The shipping labels were in English and Chinese, and large red labels pasted to the sides announced that the contents were fragile. Labels that, she couldn't help but notice, were upside down.