The Exorcist Who Loved Me

by Jennifer Savalli

  “I understand. But you don’t need Celia for any of that.”

  “Did you see her face when she talked about how no one cared to find the truth about her death? About how everyone thought she was a slutty punch line?”

  “Yeah.” Despite everything, it was hard not to feel bad for Celia. No one deserved their death to be a joke.

  “She’s twenty years old. Twenty. To die that young, before you’ve had a chance to live? Sure, her morals suck, but that’s not why she died. She died because Paul swept her off her feet. He did the same to me and I’m eight years older than Celia. Paul got her involved in his schemes. She deserves peace before she moves on.”

  He should nod his agreement, promise not to disturb Celia, and sneak back here tonight to burn the bones. He could hit the road before Holly figured out what he’d done.

  Instead, he gazed into her pleading, witchy eyes and heard himself making a promise he intended to keep. “I won’t banish Celia. I’ll stay and help you.”

  She exhaled. “Thank you.”

  Rising to her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He slipped a hand around the curve of her waist, holding her in place when he should have let her go. Her hair tickled his face and he breathed in her scent. Lemon, sugar, and his protection herbs.

  She sank slowly back on her heels, but her hand stole to his cheek, keeping him close. She tilted her head up. He brushed his lips against hers.

  Her soft sigh sent blood pulsing to his groin. She tasted as good as she smelled, and when he broke the kiss, she wasn’t the only one whose breath was ragged.

  Over Holly’s shoulder, Martin shook his head sympathetically.

  If a lovesick ghost felt sorry for him, he was in deep trouble.

  Chapter Four

  The Hotel Coloradan was as haunted as local legend claimed. Since its ghosts brought in tourist dollars, management would probably be pissed if Lawe exorcised Piano Girl. So would she. With that in mind, he left her to silently play the baby grand in the upstairs gallery and headed down to the main floor.

  Atmospheric gloom shrouded the bar, despite the bright afternoon sun outside. Soft hanging lights shone on the tin ceiling and the polished wood. Most of the tables were empty, but a scattering of guests ate a late lunch. One or two might be getting an early start on drinking. Declan and his cousin Ryan were ghost hunting in the back.

  Lawe rapped on a metal-topped café table and whistled the opening bars of The X-Files theme.

  Dec and Ryan looked up from an EMF meter. Ryan clapped him on the back. “What the heck are you doing here, man? Thought you’d be halfway to Seattle by now. We handed you an easy one with the Archer case.”

  “There were some complications.” That was an understatement. “What about you? Thought you paranormal investigators only worked after dark.”

  Declan raked a hand through his dark hair, frustration clear on his face. Over at the bar, a redhead in a business suit snuck glances at him. Nothing new there. Most women Lawe met had aspirations higher than what an exorcist’s salary could provide. But Dec had the kind of tall, dark, movie star looks that overrode financial considerations.

  “Welcome to the new world of ghost hunting,” Dec said. “We’re part of the ambiance, here to entertain the tourists. Management had us start in the restaurant at noon, in time for the lunch rush.”

  “Worked out great.” Ryan clicked off his EMF meter and grinned. He was a heavier, happier, more relaxed version of Dec. “I gave out half a box of business cards and booked twelve tour tickets. We should do this every Friday.”

  Dec snorted. “What’s next? Kids’ birthday parties? This sucks, man. The more we do this shit, the more paranormal investigation gets treated like a carnival sideshow.” He turned to Lawe. “Tell him.”

  The three of them had had this argument over beers in dozens of bars, most of them a lot more country dive than this one. Lawe held up his hands. “I’ve switched sides, dude. Ghost hunting has reality TV shows now. It’s you guys and the Kardashians. Forget getting taken seriously.”

  “Easy for you to say. You pop a demon out of someone, you get some respect. You play an EVP recording, people just shrug and ask for better proof.”

  “I like that kids’ birthday party idea.” Ryan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, rocked back on his heels. His tone was a little too innocent. “Big market there.”

  Dec shoved the camera back into its case. “This is a waste of my time.”

  Lawe scanned the bar. Nothing but live ones. The redhead seemed to be working up the nerve to approach Dec. “You’re right. No spooks here. Try the second-floor landing near the baby grand.”

  “Fucking hell.” Dec pounded the table. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

  Ryan chuckled, already packing up his gear, one happy ghost-hunting dad.

  Wishing he’d kept his mouth shut, Lawe nodded. “I checked in before I found you. Girl in her late teens. She very politely asked me to let her play the piano in peace. As long as I don’t try to talk to her again, she’ll probably stick around long enough to light up your equipment.”

  Declan raked his hand through his dark hair. “We’re stuck searching for temperature variants, fluctuations in electromagnetic fields, ambiguous sounds that may or may not be paranormal. I’m able to feel the presence of spirits, and that puts me on the high end of the sensitive scale. But you. You stroll in and actually see ghosts. Talk to them. If we could figure out how you do it, we could change the world.”

  Dec’s tone was almost rabid. Lawe might be tight with these guys, but even with them he kept a protective distance. Civilians were bad enough. Either they didn’t know about his abilities or were creeped out by them. Ghost hunters like Dec would slice and dice his brain to find out what extra sense made the spirit world visible to him. Lawe was a freak among the freaks.

  “Speaking of seeing ghosts…” He trailed off as the redhead sidled up to Declan.

  The woman handed Dec her card and whispered, “Call me.” Dec smiled and tucked the card in his back pocket. After a last lingering glance, she sauntered out of the bar.

  Every investigation he did with Dec included a parade of women coming on to the man. Occasionally, Dec hooked up for the night. Lawe doubted any of his relationships lasted longer than a month.

  Holly’s words from the night before came back to him. No ties. No attachments. No family responsibilities.

  He had zero moral high ground on Dec.

  As soon as the redhead was out of earshot, Ryan gave a low whistle. “He’s collected as many business cards as I’ve given out. Let’s hit the second floor.”

  “Two. Two women have given me their cards,” Declan muttered as he and Lawe followed Ryan through the lobby and up the wood-paneled central staircase.

  The second-floor landing was set for a wedding reception with lace-draped tables and flowery crap everywhere. Piano Girl played the carved giltwood baby grand. She looked about sixteen and wore a high-waisted frilly white dress from the early nineteenth century. Daisies nestled in her long, loose hair. Her fingers flew across the keys, but there was no sound.

  Ryan set his duffel bag on the floor and walked a slow circuit around the room, his usual first check for cold spots. Ghost hunters had all kinds of fancy equipment, but they craved any kind of direct sensory experience with the paranormal. “You gonna call either of today’s lovely ladies?”

  “No.” Dec glanced around the room, a hungry look on his face as though hoping, this once, to see what Lawe did. Fat chance. “You know I’m with Tia.”

  “Not after she finds out about Holly.”

  Lawe’s right hand spasmed, clenched. Taking a deep breath, he forced his fist to relax. The desire to punch Dec in the face was way over the top. He never got jealous.

  Ryan stopped near the piano, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s here, isn
’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Lawe ground out. “Good sleuthing.”

  Piano Girl shot him a warning look.

  She wanted them gone, but an annoyed ghost wasn’t his priority.

  “You’re messing around with a widow with two little kids?”

  He’d meant to sound casual, but that idiotic hostility must have leaked into his voice. Dec and Ryan stopped what they were doing and stared at him like he was a thermal camera on the blink. A sinking feeling slid into his chest, the kind that told him he’d just made an ass of himself.

  Amusement lit Dec’s face and he laughed. “I knew something weird happened to keep you in town more than a day. You’ve got the hots for the lovely widow Archer. Whoa, hold it there, cowboy.” Dec held up his hands as Lawe advanced. “I’m not dating Holly. I’ve never had a single sexual thought about her. Swear. I’ve got a girlfriend.”

  “For now.” Ryan busied himself checking out equipment, but Lawe could hear the laugh in his voice and felt even more like an idiot. “Dec’s girlfriend is Holly’s therapist. She’s gonna dump his ass when she finds out Dec stole her patient files and contacted Holly about her ghost.”

  Dec’s face closed down. “Tia doesn’t believe in ghosts, and I knew one of her patients needed our help. If she ever finds out—which she won’t—I’ll handle it.”

  That made two dumbasses in the room.

  “Not even you can smooth talk your way out of that one,” Lawe said.

  “My problem. Not yours.”

  “And thank God for that.”

  “Guess you’ll be in town over the weekend.” A gleam shone in Ryan’s eye. “The invitation’s still open for our Halloween party Sunday night. Bring Holly and the kids.”

  “What?” Dec said, outraged. “He can’t bring Holly. I’m bringing Tia. How are we going to explain her patient showing up with an exorcist?”

  “Oh, what a tangled web we weave…” Ryan chuckled.

  “I’m not dating Holly,” Lawe said. “I’m not bringing her to your party. I’ll be on the road before Sunday.”

  He hoped.

  “Listen, the reason I stayed over is because there’s some strange spectral stuff going on.” That was a crock, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk to Dec and Ryan about his feelings. “You guys noticed anything unusual lately?”

  “There’s been an increase in paranormal activity the last few weeks,” Ryan said. “More sightings, more phone calls to us. Something’s up, but we’re not sure what.”

  “Why?” Declan pulled out an EMF meter. “What did you see?”

  “I saw the ghost of Holly’s husband’s dead mistress. The weird thing is, Holly can see her too.”

  “Damn.” Dec dropped the EMF meter onto the piano, and Piano Girl scowled. “Who else can see her? Did you get video?”

  “Audio only. The ghost isn’t on it. I doubt anyone else will be able to see her.”

  “I should talk to Holly. Get some readings on her ghost. I promise I won’t put the moves on your girl.”

  “Shove it.” The words held no heat. He was over his jealous fit.

  “Seriously. You’re an exorcist, not a paranormal investigator. Maybe I can help.”

  “I can eject a ghost from a house as easily as I can from a body.”

  “Come on. Let’s tag team this like we did in New Orleans.”

  That made him pause. Dec’s skills might come in handy, and Lawe needed to do some experiments, check the limits of Celia’s power. Why use himself as a test subject when he had Dec?

  Early afternoon sun warmed Holly’s skin despite the crisp fall air. A few leaves rustled across the driveway as she pulled the handle to slide open the door of her sister’s minivan. Janey was taking the twins for a few hours.

  “Bye, Mommy. Love you.” Sadie patted Holly’s cheek with one chubby toddler hand. Her caramel eyes shone with that innocence and happiness that was the special province of very young children. Holly squeezed her daughter tightly, her heart constricting with the need to keep her babies safe.

  “Can we watch Ha-wold at bedtime?”

  “Of course, baby.” Holly bit back a groan. They’d seen every episode of Harold and the Purple Crayon at least twenty times.

  Holding Sadie on one hip, she hoisted Theo onto the other. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the baby-shampoo-and-yogurt scent of their curly hair.

  Quieter than his sister, Theo said only, “Bye,” and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. He glanced back at the house and repeated, “Bye. See-ya.”

  “All righty, in the car.” Janey’s brisk voice ended the sweet little moment. “Nappy time at Aunt Janey’s in T minus fifteen minutes. I have a load of PTA stuff to do while you sleep. And then you can help me make cookies that your cousins will scarf down ten minutes after they get off the bus.” Janey grimaced, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. She loved having a houseful of kids to mother.

  The twins’ eyes lit up at the promise of cookies and they scrambled into the back of Janey’s red minivan. Holly helped Theo into his car seat, and Janey walked around to the other side with Sadie.

  “Thanks for taking them,” Holly said.

  “No problem.” Janey snapped the buckle in place. “I think that therapist is helping. You look more relaxed than I’ve seen you in a while.”

  “Mmmm. Yeah.” She’d canceled her appointment with Dr. McGarry, but hadn’t told Janey that. She and Lawe planned to visit local banks until they figured out where Paul had his safe-deposit box.

  “Or maybe it’s not the therapist.” Janey met her eyes across the minivan aisle. “How was your date last night?”

  A full-sensory memory of kissing Lawe hit her.

  Heat tingled along the back of neck and she fumbled Theo’s car seat harness. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Like Mom wasn’t on the phone with me five minutes after you asked her to babysit? She probably called Rachel and Lu immediately after she hung up with me.”

  Her other two older sisters. Great. How they’d restrained themselves from calling her already was a mystery. Maybe they’d made a pact.

  She snapped the car seat buckle and didn’t answer. Her hand drifted to the herb sachet hidden beneath her baggy old flannel shirt.

  “Well?” Janey watched her.

  “It was fine.”

  “Fine, fine. Or Holly got some, fine?”

  “On the first date? Honestly, Janey. You keep thinking I’m Samantha from Sex and the City when I’m not even Charlotte.”

  “You sure got preggers with these two fast enough.”

  Holly put her hands over Theo’s ears.

  Sadie stared with big eyes. “What, Mommy?”

  “Aunt Janey’s being nosy.” She glared at her sister. “Shhhh.”

  Janey laughed and got in the driver’s seat.

  Holly kissed Theo and Sadie goodbye and paused at the driver’s side window. “I’ll swing by your place to pick up the kids around five.”

  That’d give her and Lawe a solid few hours to visit banks before she ran the nightly gauntlet of dinner, baths, Harold, and bedtime. An hour later, she’d collapse into her own bed, alone. And Janey thought two weeks without Brad was a lonely existence.

  She waved as the van reversed out of the driveway, then let herself back in the empty house. Things could be worse. She could have married Paul and not had a big, supportive family around. She could be alone. Like Lawe. She couldn’t imagine his kind of rootless existence, roaming from town to town, nowhere that was really home. No loud, nosy clan to return to. No family to lean on.

  He’d said he wasn’t good with the living. Dealing with ghosts as long as he had probably made it hard to relate to real live human beings.

  She headed for the basement and Paul’s office. When he was alive, she’d hardly ever come down here. The dark leather and heavy
furniture clearly marked this as man cave territory. No girls allowed. But after his death, she’d had to go through his papers, take care of the million details required of the surviving spouse.

  She sank into the leather desk chair and opened the bottom desk drawer. Paul had always kept his desk locked, not that it had done any good in the end. She’d found all his secrets. Or so she’d thought until yesterday.

  A long wooden box was nestled in the drawer. She pulled it out, placed it on the mahogany desk. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands over its smooth surface, opened the lid.

  “What’cha got there?” The bright voice sliced through the stillness.

  Holly shot up and the chair hurtled backward on its wheels. She whirled to find Celia, doubled-over and cackling like an iridescent witch.

  Leftover adrenaline quivered through Holly’s legs and she leaned her hips against the solid wood desk. “What the heck are you doing?”

  Celia wiped the glistening trail of ghost tears from her cheeks. “Scaring you. I’m a ghost, remember? That’s what I do.”

  Expelling a breath of air, Holly rubbed her arms through the flannel. “Next time, bring me a jacket. You’re freezing the whole room.”

  “No can do. I can’t move solid objects. I’ve been trying, but so far nothing will budge.” Celia floated to the desk and sat on a stack of papers, crossing her long legs. She still wore her slutty burial outfit of short dress and knee-high boots. Holly wondered if she could change her clothes—or the illusion of her clothes.

  Celia leaned over, peered into the box. Her blond brows furrowed. “Hey. That’s my bracelet.”

  Holly snatched the box up and held it to her chest. “No, it’s not.”

  “Is too. I was wearing it when I died.” She glanced down at her bare wrist. “I wondered why it didn’t make it to the other side. This outfit needs some accessorizing.” Celia glanced up, blue eyes narrowing. “Why do you have my bracelet?”