by Kris Tualla
He waved a hand. “I know—I know. But I’m hungry.”
Hollis climbed under the comforter, leaned back against the pillows, and waited to be served. It was a sort of test, considering that Matt was seldom so thoughtful in their previous relationship.
This time though, he passed.
Matt carried the cheese plate first, then poured her wine and brought it to her, before bringing his glass and the bottle to the sofa bed.
He picked up the remote. “What do you want to watch?”
“Do we have to be done with Christmas?”
Matt shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to be.”
Hollis smiled. “White Christmas?”
It was another test; Matt hated musicals in general. He huffed a little laugh. “Tonight, your wish is my command.”
As he pulled the movie up on Netflix, Hollis stacked some cheese on a cracker, ate it, and sipped her wine. Things with Matt were going better than she expected and she felt her walls start to come down.
“Do you mind if I watch?” Sveyn asked. He sat on the floor on the other side of the end table. “I will be quiet.”
Hollis sighed. And then there’s the Viking.
Saturday
December 26
Hollis slept late, not opening her eyes until nearly nine thirty. Matt wasn’t in the bed but the smell of bacon told her where he was. She sat up, stretched, and tossed the comforter aside.
Matt turned around when the bed squeaked. He smiled at her from the tiny kitchen. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Hollis got out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” He turned back to the stove. “Scrambled okay?”
“Sure.” Hollis preferred over medium, but when someone else was cooking she was willing to flex. “Thanks!”
She hurried to the bathroom, wondering if Matt had a spare toothbrush. He did.
Hollis washed her face, brushed her teeth, and changed back into her jeans and sweater. She dug through her purse for a hair tie and, using her fingers as a comb, corralled her curls with the elastic.
“At least it’s out of my face,” she muttered.
Sveyn stood behind her and watched in the mirror. “I love how you look in the morning.”
“You are a majority of one, then.” She looked at the Viking’s reflection. “Were you bored last night?”
He nodded. “I am afraid I have become accustomed to watching television while you sleep.”
“I’ll be at home tonight. Alone. I promise.”
Hollis folded the flannels and left them on the bathroom counter, then went out to join Matt in the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Please. With cream.”
He grinned at her as he popped a K-Cup into the machine. “I remember.”
Breakfast was basic: crisp bacon, eggs scrambled in the fat, whole wheat toast with real butter, coffee. All-American comfort food.
“What do you have planned today?” Matt asked. “Since you don’t have any gifts to return, that is.”
Hollis laughed. “I’m not sure. Maybe clean my condo.”
Matt lifted his coffee mug and winked at her. “I’m available for boredom removal. Just give me a call.”
When she finished eating, Hollis didn’t offer to stay and clean up the kitchen—yet another test. “I better get going.”
Matt glanced at the dirty dishes but didn’t say anything. “Okay. I’ll call you later.”
Hollis gave Matt a medium-depth kiss goodbye. More than a peck, but nothing like last night. He opened the door and she nearly tripped over the box on his doorstep.
Hollis cried out and stumbled backward.
Matt caught her. “What is it?”
Panic zinged through her veins. “Who is that addressed to?”
Matt started to pick it up, but Hollis stopped him. “Don’t touch it! Just read the label.”
Matt straightened. “There is no label.”
Hollis turned around and retreated into the apartment. “I’m calling Detective Campbell.”
*****
The detective donned latex gloves and cut open the corrugated cardboard box. He folded back the tissue paper. Hollis hid her face in Matt’s shoulder.
“It has a tag,” Campbell said. “Number three.”
“A dead cat?” Matt’s voice was strained. “So this is what you were talking about?”
“Yes,” she said into his shirt. She heard the snap of a plastic bag and turned to look at the detective. “How did they know I was here? Are they following me?”
Campbell tied the bag shut. “At some point, maybe. But it’s more likely that they know about your relationship with this gentleman.” The detective stood as he addressed Matt. “I’m going to need to take a statement from you.”
“Um, sure. Yeah.” Matt’s face was pale.
Campbell took the grisly package to his car, then returned with his notebook. He asked Matt all the basic questions while Hollis grew increasingly upset.
“How are the cats killed?” she interrupted.
Detective Campbell appeared appropriately concerned, yet calm. “The first two were asphyxiated. Probably a plastic bag over their heads.”
“Is that a clue?” she demanded.
He smiled softly. “Everything’s a clue.”
“But did they know I was here? My car’s outside.”
“In a visitor spot, right?” Campbell shook his head. “This is a big complex. Experience tells me that Mr. Wallace was the targeted recipient, and your being here was coincidence.”
Matt’s eyes widened. “Why go after me?”
The detective made a show of looking through his notes. “I believe you recently filed for divorce. And you had a previous long-standing relationship with Ms. McKenna?”
“Yes…”
Campbell met Matt’s eyes. “Her place of employment and your residence are both known to your wife?”
“Oh, God.”
The detective stood and walked toward the door. “I’ll have one of my colleagues in Milwaukee stop by and have a chat with her.”
Hollis cringed. Suzan was going to go absolutely ballistic.
She gave Matt a sympathetic glance. He looked like he was being strapped into an electric chair, while his soon-to-be ex was at the switch.
Thursday
December 31
Hollis had to admit it; this last week had been magical.
Or Matt-gical.
She giggled happily and accepted another glass of New Year’s champagne from a tray. Matt had bought tickets to a party at the top of the tallest building in Phoenix, and while the hors d’oeuvres were average, the view was spectacular. And the champagne was flowing freely.
Matt pulled her into another dance, holding her close against his chest. “You are so beautiful, Hollis,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s like we were never apart.”
Hollis shook her head. “No, Matt. You’ve changed.”
He looked down at her. “Have I?”
“You seem to appreciate me more.”
He huffed a laugh. “It’s true I think. Now I realize how stupid I was to walk away from you.”
Hollis smiled. He finally said it. He didn’t lose her, he left her. “Well, don’t make that mistake again.”
He kissed her warmly. “I won’t.”
Hollis rested her cheek against Matt’s shoulder and considered the Viking standing by the window, staring out at the city. Ever since Matt arrived ten days ago, Sveyn had kept his distance. He hadn’t entered her dreams once—and after what she began to think of as regular conjugal visits, she missed him.
Of course she couldn’t have simultaneous relationships with two men, even if one wasn’t corporeal. In reality, Hollis was a one-man-at-a-time woman and right now she needed to focus on Matt. She had to know if he was going to be her future, or only her past.
Future’s looking good.
The urge to cry surprised her. Were these happy tears? Or
tears of regret?
And if they were prompted by regret, what was she giving up?
Hollis wasn’t a fool. She knew that answer.
Sveyn entered her life like no man ever had—and not because he was an apparition. The Viking had accepted her just as she was from the very first day.
He told her his story with complete honesty. He assured her she wasn’t going insane. He observed her imperfect life twenty-four-seven and went along for the ride without complaint.
And then he fell in love with her, and he loved her wholeheartedly.
On her side, she adored showing him her twenty-first century world. She enjoyed how quickly he learned. How deeply he embraced life, even in his odd state. The Viking was a very extraordinary man.
And she was absolutely in love with him.
Tears sprouted then. Hollis pulled her head away from Matt’s shoulder to keep from leaving tear blotches on his jacket.
His brow furrowed. “What is it, darling?”
“I’m just emotional.” She couldn’t say she was happy and be truthful. “It’s been a weird month.”
“Yes it has. I can’t argue with that.” Matt kissed her forehead. “But tomorrow a new year begins, and there are so many possibilities ahead.”
Sveyn turned around and looked at her. His expression was somber, his eyes full of love—and pain.
“Yes,” Hollis whispered.
And so many impossibilities.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Friday
January 1
Except for Christmas night, Hollis had slept alone in her own bed since Matt arrived in Phoenix. Last night, however, she almost caved.
“Whatever you feel for that man, and whatever your shared past has been, you must not give too much of yourself too quickly,” Sveyn warned. “Or you will not be able to discern his motive for returning to you.”
“I know,” Hollis grumbled as she tumbled into bed wearing her slip and strapless bra.
“Finish changing,” Sveyn chastised. “Or you will not be comfortable.”
Hollis groaned and sat up. “You’re annoying.”
“That is why you love me.”
“No. It’s in spite of that.” Hollis stood, her head spinning from the champagne. She stripped the garments off and let them fall to the floor. “Happy?”
Sveyn’s intense gaze traveled slowly over her skin making it pucker with pleasure. “Very.”
With a groan of frustration, Hollis fell back into bed and covered herself to her armpits. Then she punched her pillow, plopped her head on it, and closed her eyes.
“Goodnight.”
After a moment, she added. “Don’t think about me.”
Sveyn didn’t respond, so she opened one eye. He was not in the room. Even so, Hollis knew he heard her.
This morning she awoke with a dull ache in the back of her head and a sharper one in the front.
Damn champagne.
Gets me every time.
New Year’s Day was dedicated to football in America and Hollis couldn’t care less. Matt was all excited because the University of Wisconsin Badgers were playing in the Fiesta Bowl and he scored a pair of tickets. Hollis declined to go, so he invited George Oswald to join him.
In retaliation, Stevie was coming over later to work on wedding stuff.
“Okay, she’s not actually coming here to punish me,” Hollis admitted after her shower. “But weddings aren’t my favorite thing.”
Sveyn sat on her bathroom counter and leaned against the mirror. “I have not attended a wedding for over a century. I admit I am curious.”
“Well, this won’t be typical by any stretch of the imagination.” Hollis combed out her wet curls. “Being in costume and on a public stage is not normal.”
“Will you wear the yellow dress again?”
Hollis paused. “Maybe. I’ll ask.”
Sveyn smiled. “You were exceptionally beautiful in that gown.”
“Thank you.” Hollis’s mood lifted at the Viking’s words. She put her comb in the drawer and looked at the man. “If Matt knew about you, what do you think he’d say?”
An airless laugh burst from Sveyn’s chest. “He will know about me after the Ghost Myths, Inc. program is shown on the television.”
Hollis startled. “That’s true. I hadn’t thought about it.”
Sveyn lifted one shoulder. “What you tell him after that is your decision.”
“Like how you’re with me all the time, even when I’m naked?” Hollis teased. “Or that you’ve made love to me all over Europe in my dreams?”
Sveyn’s head fell back and he roared his laughter.
Hollis grinned. “Maybe I won’t tell him that.”
Sveyn wiped his eyes. “Perhaps not. But after Wednesday night, you will have to tell him something. Especially if you choose to remain with him.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Hollis walked to her closet. “I’ll decide after he sees the show. No sense in stoking a fire too soon.”
Stevie arrived at one, just as she said. When Hollis opened the door, her welcoming smile faded when she saw Stevie’s stark expression.
“Call Detective Campbell, Hollis. There’s a package on the hood of your car.”
*****
“Haven’t you found out anything yet?” Hollis asked the cop. “Anything at all?”
The detective nodded. “We know how the cats died. We know that they are feral—meaning they are roaming around various neighborhoods without owners.”
At least there’s that.
“We also know that each package is put together by a different person, because none of the fingerprints are the same. And, none of those prints are in the system.”
“What about the tags?” Stevie asked.
“Different handwriting and different pens.”
Hollis blew a sigh of frustration. “So the mastermind, if you will, is somehow convincing random people to suffocate feral cats, wrap them in white tissue paper, tie a label around their necks, put them in a cardboard box, and leave them somewhere?”
Campbell shrugged. “That’s about the size of it.”
“And that Hollis is the focus of these weird—threats?” Stevie added. “Is that what they are?”
“With the numbered labels it does appear that, unless Ms. McKenna stops doing whatever it is that offends the perpetrator, she will eventually be the target.”
Hollis folded her arms over her chest. “And what I’m doing is either reconnecting with Suzan Wallace’s husband or dabbling in the occult with the spiritualists at the museum?”
Campbell nodded. “Possibly.”
Stevie elbowed Hollis. “Don’t forget what George said.”
The detective’s attention focused on Stevie like a gunsight. “George Oswald?”
“Yes. My fiancé. And Hollis’s lawyer.”
“For the civil lawsuit against Everett Sage.” His pinpoint gaze shifted to Hollis. “I spoke to Mr. Oswald. He seemed to believe Sage might be orchestrating this from prison.”
Hollis’s gaze jumped from the detective to Stevie and back. “And?”
“We have a trace on all of his communications.”
Stevie leaned forward. “Is he in solitary confinement?”
Campbell closed his notebook. “He will be, starting today.”
Hollis’ pulse surged. “What should I do?”
The detective stood to leave. “You could send Mr. Wallace back to Wisconsin and you could cancel the séances at the museum.”
Hollis’s shoulders slumped. “Those aren’t great options.”
The corner of his mouth curved. “You didn’t ask for great options.”
“If you did, you would know if it’s Sage,” Stevie offered.
Hollis shook her head. “The civil trial is in six days. There’s hardly time to stop that train.”
“At least cancel Monday’s séance,” Stevie urged.
“All right.” Hollis drew a deep breath and rose to her feet. “Sho
uld I ask Matt to tell Suzan he’s coming back to her?”
Campbell walked to the front door. “If you think it’s her, that might not be a bad idea.”
*****
“It’s not Suzan. Trust me.” Matt’s tone was hot enough to fry her phone. “And I’m not going to toy with her emotions by giving her false hope!”
Hollis clenched her free hand. “I respect that, Matt. I’m only telling you what the detective said.”
“Well, he’s wrong. I mean, come on. You know Suzan.”
Hollis’s jaw dropped. “I know Suzan?”
Hollis heard a whispered shit. “She was at Jon and Cyndi’s wedding.”
“At?” Hollis prodded. “Or in?”
“In,” he admitted.
“Cyndi’s cousin? The maid of honor? Dammit, Matt!” Hollis dragged a hand through her hair. “Her?”
His silence was his affirmation.
Hollis hung up.
“So you know his wife?” Sveyn asked as Hollis’s phone rang.
“I’m acquainted with her,” Hollis said and rejected Matt’s call.
“Do you believe her to be capable of these abominations?”
“I don’t know. You can’t tell by looking at someone.” Hollis rejected the next call and turned off the ringer. “But she was a skinny thing with big eyes and amazing cheekbones.”
Bitch.
Sveyn pointed at Hollis’s vibrating phone. “Are you going to speak with him?”
She rejected the call. “Not yet. I’m too angry.”
“Might you tell him that?”
Good idea.
Hollis answered the next call. “Matt, I’m livid. I think it’s best if we don’t talk right now.” She hung up.
Hollis and Sveyn stared at the phone, waiting.
Nothing.
Hollis looked at Sveyn. “What do you want for dinner?”
*****
Matt arrived at the door an hour later with garlic knots, wine, and roses in hand.
At least they aren’t red. Hollis shivered at the memory of Everett Sage’s ridiculously large delivery and what it sparked.