A chill drifted over her. "Not a good time, Anna."
Movement on the other side of the room indicated that the ghost hadn't listened.
Goosebumps arose on her skin so she snuggled deeper beneath the blankets. This was a one woman pity party, no ghosts allowed. "I said go away."
A long, lanky silhouette formed on the opposite wall. Its thin arm lifted toward her then touched her blanketed leg. The mattress dipped beneath someone’s weight, so it definitely wasn’t Anna.
Micah snapped her head around to stare over her shoulder.
A man wearing a vintage black suit and a dusty old derby hat sat on the edge of the bed. Wispy white locks of hair hung around his face and rested against his shoulders. Bright blue eyes stared down at Micah, and a dour expression dominated his features.
“Who are you?” Micah scrambled onto her knees and stared at the somber man. This shadow was more corporeal than the ones she’d seen before. Clutching the sheet against her naked chest, she whispered, “What do you want?”
He removed his hat and placed it in his lap. In a low voice he said, “I believe you are the one I have been searching for.”
"Please.” She took a calming breath and edged toward the other side of the bed. “Just go away."
He blinked, his gaze never leaving hers. “I had to be certain.”
“You know me?” Micah met his gaze. “The real me?”
He reached fingers toward her and grazed Micah’s forehead. A strange sensation, much like she was about to pass out, overwhelmed her. She scrambled backward until she was on the floor on the other side of the bed. Pressing her bare back against the wall, she peered over the mattress at the creepy dude.
“Forgive me.” He moved closer to the end of the bed. "I had to make certain that it was really you."
"What are you talking about?" Micah inched toward the bathroom. The shower was running, which meant Sully was still here.
The man smiled pensively then removed something from his jacket pocket. He tossed a curled, yellowed scrap of paper onto the bedding. “Find St. Clair, and embrace your full potential.”
“What?” The man made no sense.
“You are special, my dear. You carry the light inside you.” Instead of fully explaining the riddle, he pulled a pocket watch out of his suit and peered down at it. With a great sigh, he said, “I’ve already been gone too long. I must go. Find St. Clair. He can help you understand what you truly are.”
His fingers came just short of touching her, and then he disappeared.
Micah remained huddled between the mattress and wall, until she heard the shower shut off. Dragging herself off the floor, she spied her dress from the night before lying nearby and shrugged it on.
“Sully?” She slung the door open then ran smack into his chest. Micah stumbled backward, and if not for his quick reflexes, she would have fallen.
"What's wrong, doll?" He pulled her into a tight embrace then smoothed a hand through her hair. His misty grey eyes were full of concern. “You’re shaking.”
Laying her head against his shoulder, she wound her arms around his waist. “I saw a shadow."
Sully’s hands ran across her shoulders, then down her back. “Did it hurt you? What did it want?"
“He said he’s been looking for me.” Micah relaxed against the fragrant warmth of his skin. “He knows about the light.”
Sully tipped her chin up then claimed her lips. The kiss was gentle, his tongue darting out to taste her bottom lip. Micah's arms lifted to clasp around his neck as the kiss deepened.
When finally they drew apart to take in a breath, Micah pointed at the bed. "He gave me a message.”
Sully's expression went from confused to suspicious in a matter of seconds. His voice was tight, guarded as he looked it over. “Did he say anything?”
“He told me to find St. Clair and embrace my potential. He said Thomas could help me understand what I am.” Micah peered at the tattered piece of parchment in Sully’s hand. An address was scribbled across it. “What am I? What does it mean?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.” The expression on his face left no room for argument.
Micah frowned. “Then why are you upset?”
“This is Thomas’s address.” Sully’s voice softened a bit, like maybe he knew something terrible had happened to his friend. He crumpled the paper and shoved it into his pocket. “You will not go there, do you understand?”
Micah didn’t like the idea of him telling her what she could or couldn’t do. She gripped his upper arms and stared up at him. “Tell me what’s going on. Who was that man?”
“I think you’ve just been visited by Azrael.” He sounded angry now.
“Death?” Her heartbeat pumped into overdrive. Death had sat only a foot from her. He had touched her.
“He rarely leaves his office.” Sully stared at her as if he was searching for a clue. “What did he say exactly?”
“Nothing really.” Micah touched her forehead, wondering if Azrael had done something to her. She didn’t feel any different. “He said he’s been looking for me. He seemed to want to say more, but when he looked at his watch, he said he’d been gone too long then disappeared.”
Micah opened her mouth to say something more, but clamped it shut again. She saw the scar. She tried to look away from it, to meet Sully’s gaze, but couldn’t. On the left side of his chest, right where his heart beat steady and strong, a circular ring of scar tissue marred the skin. It was old. The skin was slightly raised and had faded to a silvery white.
Sudden understanding stilled the breath in Micah’s lungs, and everything else was shoved aside. This is why he didn’t want her to see his chest before. The reason he’d stopped her from unbuttoning his shirt. The only reason he'd been okay with being shirtless last night was because it had been too dark to really see him.
Her hand lifted ever so slowly to touch the ridge of scar tissue. “Is this what I think it is? A gunshot?”
His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “Yes.”
“But how…” She flattened her palm against his heartbeat. Sully should be dead. No one could survive a direct shot to the heart. Could they?
"She deserves the truth," Anna said from the hallway behind them. "All of it."
Sully grimaced. “Mind your own business, shepherd.”
Anna knocked the mirror off the wall in the hall. It dragged down the wall as if by an invisible hand and landed on the floor at her feet. “Micah is my friend, so that makes it my business.”
Micah dropped her hand to her side and took a step back. She met Sully’s grey gaze. “Tell me.”
"There isn't an easy way to say it." His voice softened, and his eyes were downcast.
Micah took another step back, putting more space between them.
Anna drifted closer. Her ghostly fingers brushed against Micah's and numbed them with a chill. It was the only way she could offer comfort. She said, "You might want to sit down."
Sully followed Micah into the kitchen. He wore only black jeans. His chest and feet were bare.
Micah forced her gaze away from the bullet wound. "I'm confused. Are you alive or dead?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Technically, I died a long time ago. But I’m not exactly dead either."
"Tell her when," Anna said.
Micah wondered if Anna got some kind of sick sense of pleasure out of this.
“1862, a few months after the Civil War ended.” Sully cast an irritated glance at Anna then rested his elbows atop the breakfast bar. "I returned to Savannah and was killed for being a traitor. Folks didn’t like that I’d gone to fight for the north. I was killed by my own cousin. He shot me for being a traitor to the south."
Micah planted herself on a barstool. Her legs were wobbly, and her stomach felt like a cold brick of dread had settled in it. She dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes as her thoughts spun out of control. Just when she thought life couldn't get any more complicated, she
met and was possibly falling for a guy who was over a hundred and fifty years old. Either that or they were both out of their freaking minds. Way to go, Micah!
"This is just too much. I'm not ready to hear this." Her stomach roiled, and she feared she might be sick.
“I awoke in a shallow grave in the woods behind my family home.” Sully's solemn gaze met hers. "After I clawed my way out, a man in a black coat was waiting. He was holding a short handled scythe in his hand. I thought he might be there to make sure I was dead."
“But how? You were shot in the heart. You should have been dead.” Her fingers reached out to touch the scar again, but she dropped her hand onto the cabinet instead.
Sully’s gaze studied the pattern on the countertop. "That man was Death."
"Mr. Azrael," Anna said with a hint of uneasiness in her voice.
"I believed he was a demon, sent to hand down my punishment for all the men I’d killed in the name of war. I wouldn’t go near him. By the time I reached the next town, he was already there, waiting for me.”
Micah gripped the counter as her head swam, and a wave of dizziness shook her.
“He pressed the scythe into my hand, and something strange happened." He raised his arm and pointed to the underside of his bicep. A dark mark, resembling the shape of a scythe, looked to be tattooed there. "He told me I had a choice. I could rot in the ground, or I could live again. But there was a catch.”
“There always is,” Anna said as she moved to the other side of the kitchen.
“He granted me eternal life, as long as I did his bidding. My family believed me dead, and I could start anew.” Sully ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I've been delivering souls ever since then."
They stared at each other in silence for the space of several heartbeats. Finally, Micah sucked in a lungful of air in hopes of calming herself. "How do you know who to kill?”
He scowled at her choice of words. "It isn't like I enjoy it, doll. We have to make room for new generations. Otherwise, the world would be even more overpopulated than it already is. It’s necessary."
"How do you know?" She insisted, not allowing him to sugarcoat it.
Sully cursed under his breath. "A name comes to me, along with a time and manner of death. If I'm lucky, I'll know the face, too."
"Did you kill the old Micah?"
"It’s not like I'm the one actually doing the deed. I touch them, and then they die in the way Azrael predicts. Only he knows who, how, and when."
"Answer me." Micah's features twisted into an angry scowl. "Did you do it?"
"Yes." He finally met her gaze. “I did.”
Micah practically jumped off the stool and ran to her bedroom. This was too much. All of it.
“Oh come on! She wasn’t you,” Sully called after her, but she ignored the angry, hurt sound of his voice.
Anna drifted into the walk-in closet just as Micah finished her shower and dressed in clean clothes. She did not look pleased.
"You let him spend the night." It wasn't a question.
Micah didn't look at or answer the resident ghost.
"I thought we agreed he was bad news." Anna crossed her arms over her chest.
"You shouldn't have done that, Anna."
"Done what?" Her brows knit in confusion.
"I really liked him." Micah's hands trembled so badly, she could barely put makeup on. "I don't know if I can look past him being a walking, talking dead man. The fact that he takes people's lives kind of sucks, too."
Anna watched her apply pink lip gloss, but didn't offer any words of comfort.
Micah tossed the tube of gloss onto the dresser. Her emotions were in turmoil as she fought a wave of tears.
“And why the hell did Azrael give me Thomas St. Clair’s address?” She asked as she pulled a comb through her wet hair. “What does he want? Why doesn’t he just tell me what he expects of me?”
“He doesn’t ever leave his office,” Anna said in a near whisper.
Sully's motorcycle roared to life outside and startled her. She raced out of the bedroom, but it was too late. He'd already pulled away.
On the breakfast bar, Sully had left a note in tight, neat writing. It read: Had to go, but we still need to talk. See you soon. S.
Micah smoothed a finger across the scrap of paper and sighed. He'd be back. Maybe she hadn’t totally wrecked whatever was blossoming between them.
"Death calls," Anna said with a roll of her eyes. When Micah picked up her car keys, Anna said, "Hey, where are you going?"
"I have a couple houses to show." A bubble of dread burst within Micah's chest. "And I’m going to check on the house in Andreas Hills. I found a buyer who might be interested.”
Anna frowned. "Are you going to see Sully again?”
"I don’t know,” Micah said honestly and tried to ignore the emotion in her voice. She hurried to her car without saying goodbye.
The ghost appeared beside Micah as she backed the car out of the driveway. "I could do some checking around, see if Thomas St. Clair has crossed over.”
Micah slanted a glance in the ghost’s direction. “I thought you didn’t like Sully. Why would you help him?”
“I’m not.” Anna turned to stare out the window. “I’m helping you.”
Micah opened her mouth to speak, but Anna cut her off with a frustrated groan. "Damn it! Your guy is such an overachiever. He's already claimed two souls. I have to go."
Chapter Twelve
Hours later, Micah threw her purse in the car. She was exhausted not only physically, but mentally as well. The newlyweds had looked at house after house, but couldn't agree on what they wanted. She dreamed of owning a pool; he didn't. He wanted a backyard kitchen. She thought that was a waste of patio space. She wanted a house they could renovate and make their own. He argued that was a waste of time and money. He wanted an extra room he could convert into a man cave; she said it could be an office. She wanted an extra room for a nursery. He really, really didn't.
Before they finished looking at the last house, the newlyweds were sneaking scowls at each other and whispering biting comments. They decided to postpone their house hunt until they could agree on what they were looking for. By the time Micah closed and locked the last house, her head was pounding and she was in a snarly mood. Why the hell did people get married if they couldn't even agree on a single or double garage?
She parked outside the massive house in the Andreas Hills community and took a calming breath. The property held no memory for her, but knowing the old Micah had died here gave her a bout of nervous jitters.
Micah walked through the house one last time, making certain the rooms and decorations were perfect. It was staged and ready, a picturesque imitation of how it might look if someone were to actually live here. Tomorrow would be the first time since old Micah’s death it would be shown. She wanted to make sure everything was in order and flawless before opening the doors to potential buyers.
She stepped onto the back patio and gazed at the sparkling, clean pool. Old Micah had died there, but she felt no whisper of memory. And why should she? As everyone kept reminding her, this wasn’t her body.
Kicking off her shoes, she allowed her toes to skim the surface. The water was cool and inviting. One quick dip wouldn't hurt.
Micah shimmied out of her dress then sat at the pool's edge. Water licked at her calves as she sat in her bra and panties, enjoying the liberty of doing something out of the norm. A gasp escaped her as she slipped down into the water. No longer inhibited, she allowed the cool water to envelop her. She floated on her back then tilted her face toward the late afternoon sunshine. The contrast of coolness and warmth felt wonderful on her skin.
Diving beneath the water, she swam to the other side of the pool then back again. Of course she couldn't remember, but she was willing to bet that she loved to swim. How could she not? This was so relaxing and felt so natural, like she’d swum her entire life.
She surfaced, then stretched across t
he water on her back once again.
The scuff of a chair or perhaps a shoe forced a squeak of surprise from her. She flung herself around, and her hair sent arcs of water out all around her.
Sully sat at the other end of the pool, his jeans rolled up past his ankles. His elbows rested on his thighs, and his feet dangled in the water. The dark shirt he’d been wearing was tossed over the chair back, his chest and stomach fully exposed. Now that she’d seen the scar, she supposed he didn’t feel the need to hide it.
Micah's heart skipped a beat as she tread water. He looked so damned good with the afternoon sunshine on his tanned shoulders, but his downcast gaze worried her. "Hi."
“Hey." His voice revealed nothing, and his features remained neutral.
She asked, "How did you know where to find me?"
"Anna."
“Did she find your friend?” Micah couldn’t help the hopeful sound of her voice. She wanted nothing more than to see him smile again.
Sully shook his head.
She didn't realize she was drifting toward him until her body bumped against his knees. Biting her bottom lip, she searched his face for any hint of emotion. There was none. "I'm sorry about this morning. I should have handled it better. It’s just a lot to take in.”
Sully caressed her cheek, his fingers lingering on her skin. “Damn it, doll. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Her stomach bottomed out. “What are you talking about?”
His grey eyes shifted away, and he sighed. When he spoke, his voice was so low, it was almost a whisper. "I came to say goodbye."
The sting of tears surprised her. This amazing, sexy guy had just found his way into her borrowed heart. Now he wanted to squash something beautiful blooming between them? No sir, she wasn't going to let him stomp on her heart. Not when she'd just decided to give it to him.
"I don't like goodbyes, Sully." She traced a fingertip across his chest, over his heart, then the scar that marked it. Her other hand rested on his thigh. "Why are you doing this?"
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