by Jenna Kernan
He usually ate in the formal dining room looking out over the lake. But everything was in easy reach from here and she’d said she was hungry. He added canned peaches as an afterthought, dumping the slippery, syrupy fruit into a bowl and adding a large spoon. He told himself he just wanted her strong enough for the journey to Kanka, but then why did he keep taking sidelong looks to see if she enjoyed what he provided for her?
The next time he cast her a glance, he found her studying him. The unease returned.
“Sebastian, how do you do it? Travel on the wind, I mean.”
He lowered his fork and regarded her. “Do you wish to return to your life one day?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Of course.”
“Then you must not know these things.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“And so I can return you to your path. Once you understand, you must stay with me.”
The prickling of her skin told her this was not an idle threat. Would he kill her? Surely he could have done that already just by leaving her behind.
“Why did you help me?”
“I did not want Nagi to have you.”
She raised her eyebrows again, urging him to continue, and her patience was rewarded.
“And because you intrigue me.” He sipped his wine, slowly lowering it back to its place. “Nagi has his world and we ours. Yet he hunts you.” He studied her with an intent, searching gaze. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you killed anyone?”
She blinked in shock at the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. He might well have asked her to pass him the salt.
“What?”
“Murder,” he clarified.
She lowered her corn bread, feeling her appetite abandon her. “Of course not.”
“What evil have you done, then?”
She shifted uncomfortably as she recalled the legend—if it was a legend.
At death, all ghosts walked the Spirit Road. But before entering the Spirit World, the soul faced Hihankara, the withered old crone who guarded the path. If the soul did not bear the correct mark, she pushed it from the road where it fell into the Circle of Ghosts.
“I am not evil.”
“Nagi does not pursue the innocent.”
She had no answer to this, the most bizarre conversation of her life.
“Who are your parents?”
“My mother was Maggie Proud. She lived in the cabin near where you found me.”
“The old woman?”
“Yes. Have you met her?” Michaela held her breath as she waited for the answer.
“I have seen her.”
Her mother had told her the place was magical, but Michaela had never believed it.
“What of your father?”
“I don’t remember him.”
Sebastian set his plate aside. “Why?”
“He left us when I was young. I don’t know much about him.” Because her mother would not speak of him. It had been an ongoing source of conflict between them. She did not even remember what he looked like.
He had gone long ago and that hurt most of all. She tried to pretend that she did not need the man who did not need her. But secretly she had longed for him to come back to them. He never did. And now she didn’t want him to. She didn’t need him or any man. It was easier to rely on herself.
She lifted her gaze to find him staring. “He just left, you know. Happens sometimes.”
“I don’t think so. What was his name?”
“Michael Proud.”
“You are named to honor him.”
Michaela dropped her gaze and reached for the wine, draining her glass.
“Do you know where to find him?” asked Sebastian.
“Last I heard he was in Nebraska. He stopped writing to us a long time ago.” Yet she had waited for him year after year. Michaela had had several dreams in which he was dead. She’d had enough of this topic. “Why do you live all alone?”
He hesitated, then seemed to decide to indulge her. “I do not like company.”
She glanced to the living room and the massive bookshelves that stretched up and out on either side of the fireplace. He had a plasma television and iPod set up in a speaker system. “But you have so many books, music, television. They are all company.”
“But require no attention. I do not have to feed or water them and they are easy to silence.”
She threw down her linen napkin. “If I am such an inconvenience, take me back.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because your wound is dangerous.”
“Contagious, you mean?”
“No, I mean it cannot be explained in your world.”
He did not want others to see her injury and he could not heal it. She did not believe his fairy tale about the sorceress. That meant…A cold wave of fear rushed through her as her eyes widened. What a stupid little fool she was, sitting here, drinking his wine.
“You’re waiting for me to die out here.”
He did not deny it.
The wineglass fell from her numb fingers, shattering on the stone counter. “Oh, my God!”
“Michaela, listen. I admit I considered it, but I have already given you my aid and protection.”
She trembled from head to toe, unable to even speak past the terror.
“If I had intended to kill you, there are easier ways.”
Was that meant to reassure her? She gasped at the clinical way he thought of her. She knew better than to trust a man. Her father had taught her that lesson early on. But she had no choice, no other option but death.
“Take me home this instant.”
Chapter 7
“P lease.” Michaela was astonished she could speak past the fingers of terror constricting her throat. “Please take me home.”
“Not until I know why Nagi seeks you.”
Were his words a trick to reassure her?
She didn’t care. This reason was so much more appealing than the thought that he meant to wait with her until she died. He offered hope and she snatched at it with both hands, not caring if his version was fact or illusion.
“How do we do that?”
“Discover what you have that he wants or…”
His hesitation did nothing to comfort. “What?”
“Wait until he comes back.”
She went pale at that. “It will come back?”
He nodded. “All you’ve told me indicates he will. Nagi can’t reach you as a Spirit, but he can possess other creatures.”
“Like the bear.”
“Yes.”
She glanced about, searching for the next attacker, hating herself for suddenly swallowing the nonsense her mother talked. Nagi could have possessed that moose or…her eyes fell upon her protector…or Sebastian.
She inched away.
He reached out and she dodged his hand, but he easily captured her wrist, dragging her from her perch. He held her trapped between his knees and the granite counter as he stared at her with those knowing eyes. She tried to escape but gave up the attempt as futile. The man was a mountain of brawn. She wasn’t going anywhere until he said so. She did the only thing left to her, she stilled and stared defiantly into his eyes, but it did not matter, for this time she felt the connection of his mind to hers.
He remained motionless for several moments and then released her. She fell back into the counter, gripping the smooth polished edge.
Sebastian did not try to recapture her as she put the stool between them.
“He already tried to possess me,” he said, “and failed.”
She stared at him. “He tried?”
He nodded.
“But how did you stop him?”
“That’s complicated.”
She recognized the expression. She was intruding on his precious secrets again. But Nagi was stalking her. That gave her the right to know—even though the information she discovered would likely scar
e the daylights out of her.
He wouldn’t tell her. That was clear, but it wouldn’t stop her from trying her damnedest to uncover what she was up against.
She laid a hand over his. He flashed her a questioning look but allowed it. She recognized it was the first time she had initiated this contact and hoped she might see his thoughts as he so easily read hers.
“My mother said ghosts had to be exorcised by a medicine man.”
“Ghosts, yes. Once a creature is possessed, the ghost will usually not leave unless forced by a shaman or by death of the host. But Nagi is no mere ghost. He has much power.”
He spoke the truth. She instinctively knew it.
Michaela ignored his worried look. It made him appear as if he cared about her welfare more than his secret. “Well, then, why does he keep popping up to terrify me when he could just take possession of me and walk me into traffic?”
Sebastian raised his brows as she registered his astonishment. He hadn’t thought of that, but she had. He gave her an approving smile, as if impressed.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he cannot. But why?”
“You’re asking me?”
The heat and energy of their contact made it difficult for her to think. Powerful images filled her mind. She saw herself stretched out naked on his wide, bare chest. She closed her eyes at the lure of flesh pressed to flesh. She jerked back her hand and scowled at him.
“You wanted to know my thoughts,” he said. “Now you do.”
The look he cast her was so primal, so hungry, she braced as she faced a different kind of threat.
Instead of lunging at her, he reached for his wine, finishing the contents in one sensual swallow.
He set the glass beside her shattered one and walked to the windows. “He comes to you often?”
Apparently he was not ready to act on impulse.
She released her breath and resisted the urge to follow him. “Only in my dreams, until today.”
“When you saw the bear?” He seemed to brace himself for her answer, planting his feet and clasping his hands behind his back.
“I saw him in the kitchen window first.”
He glanced back at her, one brow quirked. “Does he speak to you?”
She nodded.
“What does he say?” he asked.
“In my dreams he says things like, ‘I can see you.’”
He turned, his brow knit in concern. “See you?”
She walked as far as the couch, then sat on the armrest, facing him. He looked magnificent framed against the vista behind him. She wished she were a painter and could capture him here, like this. Michaela recognized belatedly that he waited for her to elaborate. How long had she been sitting here mooning at him like a teenager waiting at the stage door?
“What? Oh, yes, as if it couldn’t see me before,” she said. “Another time it said, ‘I’ve found you.’”
“How long has it been visiting your dreams?”
“Since the accident.” She glanced at her strange protector. He acted like some king of surveying his territory. She could not resist joining him there. “I was on a bike trail in a park near Vancouver. That’s where I lived until my mom got sick. But I ran into a bad patch, lost control and hit my head. The doctors said if I hadn’t worn my helmet I’d be dead.” She stopped beside him and lifted her hair back so he could see the tiny scar. “Pressure cut. Anyway, my friends called for help and I spent five days in intensive care. When I woke up…” She hesitated, thinking what had happened next was too bizarre to relate. She didn’t tell people this part, but neither did she travel on whirlwinds or wrestle with bears. Michaela drew a breath to gather her resolve. If she was going to buy in to this madness, she might as well tell him all of it. “I woke up and there was a raven on my windowsill at the hospital.”
“A messenger from the Spirit World. When did your mother die?”
Michaela’s eyes burned as they always did when she fought tears. “A month later. It was very aggressive, the cancer. I moved in with her and—” she shrugged “—I stayed after she passed.”
“Did she follow the old ways?”
“Oh, yeah.”
His gaze seemed to judge her and find her lacking. She lifted her chin in defiance.
“But you do not.” He made it sound like a condemnation.
She felt the need to defend herself. “My mother was always trying to get me to listen to legends and join the tribe.” Michaela looked out over the glassy blue waters before her. What had Maggie known of this?
“You should have listened. You would have been better prepared for what will come.”
Michaela stiffened at the rebuke. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“But they believe in you.”
She found her breathing coming too quickly. “But ghosts are just souls that have not crossed over to the other side.”
He shook his head. “Not all. Some are what remains of evil men and women after their bodies die. They are greedy for the life they have lost—vengeful creatures. Nagi collects these souls from earth, like a bounty hunter, keeping humans safe from the dangerous criminals.”
She shifted uncomfortably. It was her mother’s variety of ghosts, not the Christian version. Ghosts were to be feared, avoided and protected against.
He eyed her critically. “I begin to think that Nagi wants your soul. But he cannot take a life. It is his misery, to wait until the evil ones finish their deplorable lives before collecting them. But I do not find you evil.”
Her mother had always said she was special, but all mothers said that. When odd things happened, Michaela ignored the creepy stuff that she didn’t understand. She could disregard them no longer.
“How do I get rid of him?”
“By discovering why it pursues you. Nagi does not stalk the innocent. So his actions confuse me. I want to hear more about the hospital.”
She gazed out at clouds just beginning to turn pink against the blue autumn sky and dodged the question.
“Where is this place?”
“A place with no name. Canadian Rockies. One of my homes.”
“One of?” She lifted an eyebrow. “How many do you have?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t see any roads.”
Sebastian pointed to the seaplane tied to the dock as if it were a sailboat, its large pontoons looking like twin kayaks. “I use that, mostly. Lake’s big enough for a landing.”
He found her staring at him with lips pursed. She was obviously irritated, judging from her folded arms and lowered chin. Why, then, did he find it nearly impossible not to grab her and pull her close?
“You prefer the hurricanes.”
There was no need to answer, so he did not, merely stared at her with hungry eyes taking in her high color and the clinging scent of her arousal.
“I can’t believe I even said that. This whole thing is crazy.” She flapped her arms like a baby duckling. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Down the hall.” Sebastian pointed.
Michaela headed through the living room and out of sight. Sebastian followed her with his eyes until she disappeared and then listened to her light footfall as she slowed at the bathroom. He heard the click and then the sound of water running. He switched his attention to the lake. His hearing was good, good enough to hear the ground squirrel burrowing in the roots of the ponderosa pine on the south end of the deck. But it was his sense of smell that was most acute, which was how he could smell the pine-scented soap she now used. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to nuzzle at her freshly washed wrist.
He cast his gaze like a net over the water. Sebastian had placed his home on the eastern shore of the secluded lake so as to take in the sunset. The water was so calm this evening that the lavender clouds were fringed in scarlet, reflected in mirror image upon the still lake. He saw such things as a bear, but their magnificence escaped him. He took in the moment, savoring it, letting the tranquillity fill a part of him he had not
known needed filling.
He sought a view, not to search for game or guard against intruders, but for this. He threw open the doors and breathed deep of the sweet, clean air.
Down the hall the running water ceased. Was she coming? His body twitched in anticipation. How could he miss her when she had been out of his sight for only a few moments? Yet he recognized the eagerness and the anticipation, but forced himself to keep his eyes upon the still waters.
She was human, and human females were the only creatures on earth powerful enough to hurt him.
Chapter 8
M ichaela looked longingly at the shower and then at herself in the large mirror hanging over the sink. Dirt flecked her pink camisole and ragged denim shirt and her hair fell in a wild tangle. She washed her face and arms. Rummaging in the drawer, she did locate a comb, making use of it before heading back to Sebastian. She had not even cleared the hallway when she sensed him, his attention on the vista but his focus entirely on her approach.
She paused. This was new, wasn’t it? She had always known when someone was staring at her. That was some deep instinct of the hunted, but this was different.
He had left the doors to the deck open and now stood at the rail. She went to him, stopping right behind him, and following her instinct, she rested a hand on his arm. He glanced at her hand but allowed the contact.
He seemed deeply troubled by her. Worried over her wound, perhaps, and his inability to heal her.
His gaze rose to hers, intensified, his pupils dilated, and he gave her a look that hummed of unfulfilled desire. He wanted her.
Her blood turned to quicksilver, flashing through her hot and cold as she responded to his unspoken desire. Sebastian had not made any physical advances toward her, but now she understood the intense internal battle he waged not to do so. It was a battle he was losing.
But how did she know?
She stared at the bandage on her arm. Somehow this was related.
She felt the heat of his gaze as it swept down her body and then flashed back to her eyes. His expression most resembled a grimace of someone stoically avoiding some great temptation, as if she offered food to a fasting monk. She should be cautious. Wine or no wine, this man, or whatever the hell he was, was dangerous and he didn’t like her, felt somehow threatened by her.