Haunted Years (Shadow Promised Book 3)

by Rebecca Royce

  He’d gladly undertake that job and he wouldn’t even let himself question why he felt so happy about it.

  Heather grabbed his hand, squeezing it so hard that she dug her fingernails into his palm. He tried not to wince. “They want me to show you.”

  “To show us? Ivan is looking.” Braxton looked back at Ivan. “You still are, aren’t you?”

  “Still looking, but all I see is a bunch of ghosts swirling around in some mansion. What else am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “The Pendleton Mansion. We have to go there.” Heather’s now-bloodshot eyes met his. Whatever this was, whatever they were doing to her, it caused her a tremendous amount of pain. He would find a way to stop it. “That’s where we have to see. Where you have to know. That’s what they keep saying.”

  “Tell them we’ll come. We’re going now.” Braxton cleared his throat. “If they let you go. Now. Otherwise they can pull as many tricks as they want. I don’t do favors for rude ghosts who harm people. They can all kiss my ass.”

  Heather took a deep, ragged breath. He hoped he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.

  Chapter Four

  The day might have been beautiful if the invasive chill hadn’t frozen Heather’s soul. She held Jim’s hand in a brutal grip, her knuckles white from the effort.

  “This is the place?” Ivan leaned his head back to stare at the top of the house.

  She nodded. They’d driven up a street that was loaded with huge houses. Some of them were obviously still family homes, in good shape, with lights on and life evident on the inside. Other homes were in disrepair. The economy had clearly hit the place hard. But none of the dwellings was in such a state of disrepair as the place they had to visit.

  The Pendleton mansion. Not that she’d ever laid eyes on it before, other than in the visions the ghosts were shoving at her, yet she’d guided them without pause to the exact location Maybe the dead could also deposit directions into her unconscious. Or maybe she was just a big old lunatic.

  Heather shuddered. When would this be over?

  As if he’d read her mind, Jim spoke quietly. “We’ll put an end to this ordeal shortly and then figure out what to do next.”

  “I don’t know that there is any real solution.” She hated vocalizing her worst fear. Thinking it was one thing—telling them made it seem a little bit too real. Still, once she’d started she had to get the whole thing out. “Maybe only death—my death—can make this end.”

  Jim shook his head. “That’s not you talking—that’s too much ghost exposure messing with your head. Frankly I’m shocked you haven’t shouted out suicidal stuff before now. People who are being haunted get bogged down in death. They start to feel as if that’s where they’re headed.”

  Ivan raised an eyebrow and laughed. “It’s where we’re all headed, isn’t it? I mean, none of us get off this ride alive. Except for that dude in Toronto. But I’m not convinced he’s two hundred years old. I don’t buy it.”

  Jim sighed loudly. “Ivan, can it. Would you?”

  The giggle that escaped from her throat surprised her. For one second she gasped, before she doubled over with a case of hysterics like she hadn’t had in years. They were just so…funny together. One of them was always poking at the other. They dealt with paranormal crap all day long, yet they still managed to be amusing. How was that possible?

  She clutched her stomach when her giggles turned to tears. How could any of this be happening? If anything, her situation had gotten worse. The ghosts couldn’t only harass her in person, they could take advantage of her anywhere from a distance. She would never be free—never find relief. Never.

  “Hey.” Jim pulled her against him. He felt warm, alive and solid, as if his presence alone could shut out whatever threat waited in the house. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. You can count on that. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

  She looked in his blue eyes. She witnessed the determination he’d vocalized in their quiet depths and the severe line of his eyebrows. A muscle ticked right below his ear in the line of his jaw. The man meant business.

  “Okay.” She nodded. Her insides heated up. He smelled like soap. She pressed her head onto his chest. Jim must already think she belonged locked up—she might as well get a good whiff of him in the meantime.

  He held her closer instead of pushing her away. Why did he do that? She closed her eyes.

  “Do you believe me?” His voice soothed her anxiety like a balm.

  “Yes.” She nodded and took a step back. Her head was clearer, the lines around the house sharper, as if her vision had improved. Heather took a deep breath. “How did you do that?”

  Jim shook his head. “Do what?”

  It took her a moment to realize he had no idea what she meant. She moved away, rubbing her arms. Jim had made her better just by holding her and he had no idea how he’d done it. She cleared her throat. Should she be embarrassed? Could she somehow play this off so she didn’t look really, really sad?

  “Ready to go in, you two?” Ivan stepped toward the house.

  “I see you are.” Jim followed him, his hands in his pockets. Her back burned where he’d held her and she wished she could have his arms back around her, maybe permanently.

  It had felt so right to be held by him. Heather winced at the thought. She’d had sex with him once on a plane. No way should she be getting sentimental.

  She followed behind him. “How long have you two been friends?”

  “We’re not friends,” Jim answered. “We’re Shadow Promised together but that’s about the extent of it.”

  Ivan whipped around and laughed. “We’re friends. You don’t realize it because you’re so dense.” He turned his attention to her. “Braxton never had one until he met all of us. Somehow he didn’t figure out that we all constituted his friends.”

  Jim didn’t respond and instead moved forward. He was obviously a man who kept his own counsel. Ivan walked up to the door of the mansion and turned the handle. The door swung open with a creak.

  “Guess no one is home, huh?” She hadn’t really considered that anyone could be living there. Now that they were there, however, it seemed as if she should have considered it.

  “My guess would be that no one has lived here for years and years.” Ivan walked in as if he owned the place.

  Jim turned to look at her. “I want to suggest that you stay out here, but whatever is in there can drag your conscious mind anywhere it wants. You might as well be in there where I can keep your body safe.”

  He said the words and then his eyes got large. Without another word, he turned away and stormed into the house.

  Ivan snickered. “Smooth move, bud.”

  What were they even talking about? Men didn’t make any sense to her. It was as if they had their own language. She followed them through the door and shivered.

  Glimmers of the mansion’s grandeur peeked from beneath the faded façade. White paint peeled from the raw wood fixtures and the blackened windows didn’t let any natural light enter the home anymore. Still, it could be beautiful again.

  Like her.

  She blinked at the thought. No one would call her gorgeous at the moment. Not with her so pale and so out of it. But maybe she could be again. If Jim could be believed and this could be managed.

  Could she have a life?

  Heather shivered. The house might be empty, but someone was paying the air-conditioning bill. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “Really?” Jim stared at her. His gaze traveled up and down her body. “I’m not cold. Maybe a slight breeze but not frigid. You’re really, really psychic, honey. I wish someone had helped you manage instead of medicating you.”

  She wished the same darn thing. “No one in my family would ever believe this.

  They never have. It’s not reasonable.”

  Ivan snorted. “Nothing in our lives is reasonable. You’ll get used to it.”

  Jim move
d forward into the center of the room. “You getting anything, Ivan?”

  “Not my field.” He shook his head. “If one of you two sees something, I can see it too. Otherwise I’m going to be useless in here.”

  “You can kill things. That makes you really non-useless.”

  “Can’t kill what’s already dead.” Ivan shrugged. “And in case anyone is interested, I’m not cold.”

  She’d had enough. The ghosts had wanted the guys brought here and that was what she’d done. What had to happen now?

  “Hello?” she called, hearing the sound of her own voice resonating throughout the house. Silence met her shout. Heather tried again. “Hello?”

  After a few seconds, Jim spoke. “No luck?”

  “I’ve never tried to speak to a ghost before. Here I engage them and they don’t say a word. What’s the deal?”

  Jim shrugged. “All right,” he called into the hall. “We’re here. You have ten minutes to do something with us and then I’m leaving. I have to go to work.”

  Ivan laughed. “If you can call what you do working. It’s hardly a career.”

  “Gets the bills paid. For God’s sake, Christian used to strip.” Jim rolled his eyes.

  “I think he preferred ‘exotic dancer’.”

  Heather didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about and she didn’t care. The ghosts had told her to come here. They were going to tell her whatever they had to say so she could move on with her life.

  She stormed through the house, looking for the ghosts. When none appeared, she clenched her fingers and actually stomped her feet. Was this some kind of sick game?

  Why do this? Why bring her all the way here and then not communicate when she arrived?

  What was the fucking point?

  She shivered again and gripped her coat more tightly. Why did she have to come to the Pendleton mansion, bring Jim and Ivan, and then have nothing happen?

  “We know you saw real things. Ivan saw them too. Neither of us is thinking you’re anything but sane. We’re as confused as you are.”

  She’d been so preoccupied with her hissy fit that she hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

  “What do you think this place is? This room, I mean. What do you think they once did in here?”

  Jim looked around. “Looks like some kind of study. See the shelving over there? That looks like book storage to me. But what do I know? I’m not an expert on architecture or history or whatever.”

  What was that tone she heard in his voice? Heather turned to look at the hard lines of Jim’s face. “Do you think you should know about that stuff?”

  “I think I might have liked to have the kind of life that would have allowed for the option of learning about it.”

  “You really have no idea how amazing you are, do you? You save people. You deal with psychics, demons, ghosts, whatever. You’re my hero, saving me from the home I put myself in. Why would you want to be ordinary when you’re extraordinary?”

  Jim laughed, throwing his head back when he did. “You’re asking me that? Never craved the mundane, Heather?”

  He did have a point. Still, Jim shouldn’t be feeling that way. Not when he was in control of what made him unique. She wouldn’t mind her gift—or whatever he wanted to call it—if she could manage it better.

  Opening her mouth, she started to tell him just that when the world went black around her. She gasped but couldn’t think past the haze in her head.

  * * * * *

  Braxton grabbed his head. The room spun and, even though he blinked to try to make the sensation stop, it changed colors a couple of times. Next to him, Heather groaned. He reached out to touch her. What the hell had happened? His jaw hardened and he felt the telltale sign of anxiety in the upper part of his mouth. Giving himself TMJ had been a real treat. He had to stop clenching. That was before he’d discovered poker. A hard game of five-card draw sounded really good at that moment.

  He raised his head and looked around. The empty room he’d been in earlier was filled with stuff now. A desk covered in papers, bookshelves covered in textbooks, and a maroon-covered ottoman in the corner.

  “You were right. This was a study. My personal study.” A male voice spoke from behind him and Braxton jumped to his feet.

  All thoughts of tension fled. Someone had knocked him and Heather to the floor. He had a pretty good idea that whoever had done it wouldn’t be classified as friendly.

  Heather groaned, her eyes still closed. Braxton took two seconds to assess her level of vulnerability. It was too high. He swung around, putting himself between her and the direction of the unknown male’s voice.

  No one was in front of him. He looked left and right. As far as he could tell, there was no one in the room with them.

  “Show yourself.” Fuck. This.

  “Certainly.” In front of his eyes, a man materialized where seconds earlier there had been nothing but air. “We can be civilized, can’t we? Or maybe we cannot. You demon hunters have always been so grotesquely simple-minded.”

  “I’m not a demon hunter.” He did fight and kill the disgusting creatures but it wasn’t all he did. Not that he should be explaining himself to this…thing.

  A tug on his pants alerted him to Heather’s awakening. He almost wished she’d stay unconscious. If she lay unmoving, she’d be better protected. Of course, awake she could duck and cover if needs be. He offered her his hand and she took it, hauling herself to her feet.

  Braxton turned his attention back to the situation. “What are you? A ghost?”

  “He’s Dr. Pendleton.” Heather’s voice sounded scratchy and she cleared her throat. “I saw that much when I got dragged here last time. He’s doing something bad here.

  Hurting people.”

  “Ah…yes. The ghosts have been dragging you around.” Pendleton laughed, a high-pitched giggle. “Well, that can be stopped and I’ll see to it. You’re quite right, my dear, I am Dr. Pendleton. Dr. Lawrence Pendleton, to be exact, and you are in my home. Well, a manifestation of what it looked like once, when I lived here.”

  “Heather.” Braxton had had enough of this crap. He wanted this ghost gone. “This is a ghost, I’m going to get rid of him.”

  “Wait, if you will.” The ghost held out his hand. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “You have a proposition for me?” What kind of ghost was this? He’d never spoken to one before. He looked at Heather. Her eyes were huge and her skin too pale. If he could find a way to make Ghosty suffer, for that alone he would make Pendleton’s banishing damn painful. “Is this normal, Heather? Are they always like this?”

  “No. They usually can’t hear me when I talk. It’s more like watching a scene than participating in it.”

  “But I am not an ordinary ghost.” Pendleton floated to the window and looked out. He sighed dramatically. The ghost really liked to put on a show. Braxton had no use for people like that when they were alive, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with a dead version.

  “Ghost is a ghost is a ghost. I happen to be able to make you all disappear. It’s my talent. Not good for much, but in this situation it’s key. I’m going to make you go away now.”

  The ghost whirled around. “You could do that or you could let me arrange it so your girlfriend never has to face the onslaught she’s lived with for the last fifteen years again.”

  “What?” Heather’s question came out breathy.

  Braxton looked at her and gritted his teeth. How could she have gotten even paler? “Don’t believe him, honey. I don’t know what this guy’s deal is but it can’t be truth telling.”

  “In my life, I studied the paranormal until I became an expert in it. I could raise and kill demons on command. The most evil creatures feared me. Life and death existed because I said it did.” Pendleton gave a loud giggle again.

  “Then how did you end up in this situation? If you’re so powerful, how did you get stuck in this place?” Strength surged in Heather’s tone.


  Braxton liked the spunk returning to Heather’s voice—she didn’t sound defeated anymore. Being screwed with by the dead had taken its toll on her, but it hadn’t destroyed her. Not yet. It never would. He wouldn’t allow it.

  “I was moments from figuring out immortality when I was killed. As you can see, I still won. I’m a fully cognizant creature, not a floating, ridiculous ghost that can do nothing but lament its fate for all eternity.”

  “And you can teach me how to get them to leave me alone?”

  Pendleton nodded. “If you two help me, I can teach you to control them as I did. I’ll see to it that you know how to use your gift instead of being destroyed by it.”

  “A person who is clearly as powerful as you,” Braxton nearly choked on the word— stroking egos had never been his thing, “couldn’t possibly need anything from us. What could we do for you to earn such a gift as your help?”

  “Find my killer.”

  Silence filled the room. Braxton clenched his hands to keep from punching the wall. “I’m not a detective. Find your own damn killer.”

  “It’s the one thing I can’t do. For whatever reason, the man who ended my life is closed off from me. I cannot see it. I need you to do that.”

  “Go haunt yourself a private detective. I’m not in the mood. Come on, Heather, take my hand. This is over.”

  “Hear me out, demon hunter,” Pendleton interrupted.

  “I told you. I’m not a demon hunter.” Did the man not pay attention?

  “Let’s listen to him, Jim.” Heather squeezed his hand. “Maybe he can help me.”

  “He can’t.”

  She tugged on his arm and he looked down at her.

  “How do you know?”

  “Yes, Jim, how do you know? Maybe I’m the only being in the universe who can give Heather what she needs. Would you deny her that to satisfy the rage inside you? Would you be that selfish?”

  “The rage inside me? Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, ghost. I don’t have rage issues.” Other problems, perhaps, but not rage. “I don’t believe your crap because that’s all it is. If you were able to do what you claim, you’d have people more qualified to solve your problems than us.”