Haunt My Heart

by Medley, Lisa

  She’d never believed in the paranormal—not really—and until last night, nothing unexplainable had ever happened to her. In fact, her mind still played tricks with her even now as she recounted the actual events of Jason’s attack, alternating between calm assurance and incredulous uncertainty as to what she’d actually seen. And to think there had been an entire society dedicated to using such supposed supernatural forces against their enemies. People were crazy sometimes. While Ellie was much more attuned to supernatural possibilities, Sarah couldn’t deny what was happening to her.

  Clearly the ring she’d found was tied to her current predicament, and much more than a lucky talisman. On the one hand, she’d love to turn it into a piece of jewelry, but her trip to Chatham had proven the ring was, indeed, a precious artifact. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to give up the object.

  Looking back down at her plate, she noticed half of her pasta had already been consumed. When had she eaten it? She’d been so absorbed with her thoughts, then the book, she hadn’t even realized what she’d done. She motioned for a to-go box from the waitress, then quickly gathered her things. She scraped her leftovers into the box before heading to the counter to pay.

  All she wanted to do was get home and pour through the rest of the book while sitting in front of her fire. Tomorrow, she’d tackle the flash drive. Coded language was her thing. Sure, she spent all day, every day, working with computer languages, but she also had some specialized training in encryptions and cryptography. Who didn’t love a good puzzle? While greater minds than hers had more than likely already taken a crack at breaking the coded message, what did it hurt to try?

  Sarah eased into her parking space in the garage and made the short walk back in record time, motivated to continue her search. When she reached the top of her apartment stairs, her heart sank. Her letter to Tanner remained exactly where she’d left it.

  It was getting silly that he lived so close, patronized the coffee shop directly beneath her, and they still hadn’t met. She was growing more suspicious. She had enough mysteries going on right now. It was time to press him into action. Snatching up her letter, she resigned herself to writing a new letter in its place, demanding a face-to-face meeting. Clearly, they both had problems that needed to be dealt with. Sarah was at least somewhat in control of her own side of that equation, but growing tired of waiting for someone else to make the next move.

  Slipping into her apartment, she smiled as she noticed her gorgeous new drapes against the street-side windows. She crossed to the windows, then pulled each panel loose from its ties and slid them closed. The heavy, rich velvet blocked out all but a dim glow seeping through the cracks between the drapes. Tonight, she’d sleep in a cave instead of a showroom. And it would be wonderful.

  *

  Tanner paced as Sarah showered. Why had she retrieved her letter? Had she already lost interest? How much longer could he play at this game with her before she grew tired and cast him aside? Perhaps some contact, even if it was less than ideal, would be better than no contact at all. He was certain now that she was beginning to piece together their connection, even though she didn’t yet know where it would lead. She was a smart girl. He was equally as certain, however, she would not be able to break the code.

  Only two people had the key and the Major General was dead. Truly dead. Of that Tanner was sure, or the book would never have survived. How the current government hadn’t tracked down the book before now, he had no idea. Lincoln had, of course, known of its existence, and, Tanner assumed, even more of his many aides and trusted confidants knew as well. Yet it had been placed upon a dusty shelf in plain sight? He shuddered. To think the key to all war and peace could possibly lie in his bewitched brain was even more overwhelming than his condition.

  Enough residual energy remained, likely from the group of children, that Tanner managed to peel open the drape and he peered below. When his hand materialized into view before him, he startled and jerked it back. He patted it along his chest and shoulder, feeling his form begin to solidify beneath his touch. Finally seeing his own physical body once again made flesh was miraculous.

  His heart raced as he heard the water turn off in the small bathroom. Half materialized in her bedroom in the dark was not how he wanted to meet Sarah for the first time. Tanner fled to the door and came to an abrupt stop against it as his formerly ethereal form refused to pass through the wood. The resulting thunk caused him alarm. He spun around to see if Sarah heard it as well. Panic filled him and he fumbled for the door handle, desperate for escape before it was too late. The door refused to open, but then he remembered the bolt. He slid the lock open and turned the knob. He stepped into the hallway just in time. The door snicked closed quietly behind him.

  The hallway presented the next challenge. He was relieved to find it mercifully empty, but he didn’t know how long his good fortune would hold. What to do next? With more energy, he might be able to come to full corporeal form, but for how long? Seconds? Minutes? Longer? And as he was, half-spirit half-man, he couldn’t exactly walk into the coffee house downstairs and leech energy from its patrons. He also couldn’t remain in the hallway. Eventually, one of Sarah’s neighbors would wander by, and then what? Still tethered to the ring, he couldn’t go far. He walked down the stairs and stopped at the door marked Service Entry. Trying the knob, he was intensely relieved when it turned without resistance. After slipping through, he stood in the darkened room until his sight adjusted. Sounds of the coffee house drifted through the closed storage room door from the shop and light seeped beneath revealing steel racks filled with supplies.

  Tanner tried to calm his pounding heart. He had to make his move. With each passing moment, each energy boost, he was becoming more and more corporeal. He had to reach out to Sarah.

  He’d do it tonight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sarah sat curled by her fire, consumed by Mr. Carnahan’s book. She’d already rewritten her letter to Tanner and slipped it beneath her door. Now she read, captivated by what she found. It was all so crazy. And although it was mostly urban legend, if an nth was true, what an amazing story it was. It made her wonder what other insanity the government had secretly been up to all these years. Conspiracy theories abounded on the internet. The longer she searched, the more she realized there was a website, group or both for every theory under the sun.

  She googled “Brothers of Peril” and came up with tons of links, but none related to the book. It seemed very little pertinent information on this particular conspiracy panned out, which she found even more intriguing. Unless, of course, research into the group had already been quashed online? Hundreds of broken links and dead ends made her wonder. But if so, why did the book remain at Chatham? And Carnahan’s book? And the easy access to the flash drive? Encouragement, even?

  An icy shiver ran up her spine as she considered the possibility she was a spider caught in an invisible trap. Maybe the government waited for interested parties to come to them. If one was persistent enough to track the information to Chatham and find the book, then perhaps that same person might be helpful in solving their mystery?

  And the park ranger, Ruby, had all of her pertinent information. Which Sarah had willingly provided.

  Good grief.

  How easily she had fallen down the rabbit hole.

  No. This was no conspiracy theory. She hadn’t been pulled into some governmental intrigue. Her imagination ran wild. What she needed was sleep. And a fresh start tomorrow when her mind was not jumbled with all of this nonsense. Clearly, her subconscious mind couldn’t adequately process her experience with Jason last night.

  Good God, was that last night?

  She rubbed her eyes and gave Bitly a scratch behind the ears, which led to his full-throated worship in return.

  “Time for bed, boy. God knows what I’ll dream up tonight with all this strangeness floating around in my head.”

  She laid the book on her table, switched off the lamp, and then climbed into bed
, her body sinking into the mattress. Staring at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted, she tried to remap her apartment in the new darkness provided by her drapes. The familiar shadows of the past few months were all different now and her home felt more like a cocoon. Sarah rolled over and pulled the covers tight around her. The bed rocked as Bitly pounced upon it, pawing at her through the covers as he made his nighttime nest beside her.

  One uneventful night was all she needed.

  *

  Tanner waited for hours in Greysmith’s storage closet until the last of the customers had left and the front door was finally locked. He needed energy. A lot of energy to succeed, however briefly, in his plan. Even then, there was no guarantee he’d be able to manifest long enough to make his case to Sarah. His heart lay like a lead ball in his chest. He had to try.

  It was no surprise when Samuel entered through the storage closet to lock the back door. Tanner had heard Samuel greeting and serving customers all night as he waited for his opportunity. Stepping into Samuel’s path from the shadows, Tanner let the young man pass through him and the boy stumbled. Falling to his knees, Samuel’s eyes filled with fear. He blinked rapidly. Tanner felt his body begin to solidify after the infusion of Samuel’s energy. His hands took form first, then his torso, as he returned to visibility and literally appeared before Samuel’s eyes. Tanner could only imagine how unsettling that must be.

  For the first time in more than a hundred fifty years, Tanner heard his own voice say, “I’m sorry.” And he was sorry. Draining the energy from someone was likely to have consequences. He worried a complete exhaustion of another’s energy could be catastrophic. Bringing harm to one of Sarah’s friends was unthinkable, yet his situation demanded action.

  Tanner’s voice was the last thing Samuel heard before he passed out cold on the floor.

  With not a moment to spare, Tanner soaked himself in the aura surrounding Samuel. Samuel was a healthy young man and Tanner absorbed his energy. When Samuel’s aura—his life energy—began to change to a dirty gray, Tanner tore himself away from his sphere of influence. Remorse filled him. Even knowing what he was doing was the only course, it didn’t make his actions any less deplorable.

  Samuel’s pale face glowed like a moonflower in the dark storage room. Regret crept into Tanner’s conscience, but what was done was done. Tanner was only glad he hadn’t tried it first on Sarah. Infused with Samuel’s energy, Tanner strode from the storage room and into the empty coffee shop. He made his way to the lavatory, where he’d seen a mirror earlier in his investigations while Sarah had scrutinized the shelves. He was curious how he appeared, now that he was corporeal. Would he be decomposed? Hideous?

  Flipping on the light, he gasped when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror across from him. He hadn’t aged at all. He appeared exactly as he remembered himself the day he’d gone to battle. Only his clothing had changed. After burial, he had been dressed in his finest long Union blue coat and woolen trousers. Gone were the bloodied and torn clothes of his demise. Impulsively, he pressed his hand to his face and dragged his palm across his beard-roughened jaw and then his forehead, unable to believe he was whole again. It was a miracle.

  Fumbling at the buttons of his coat, he finally forced one through a buttonhole, then another. He lifted the shirt beneath to inspect his not-quite-so-mortal wound. Pocked scars across his upper chest marked the points of impact for the gunfire that had taken his life—otherwise he was living flesh.

  For how long was the question.

  Tanner hurried back to the storage room and checked on Samuel. He briefly considered undressing the boy and stealing his clothes as well. While his current attire might be more convincing, he didn’t want to overwhelm her. His odd midnight calling would be unusual enough.

  He laughed at the absurdity of that understatement. Honestly he had no idea how he would even begin the conversation with her. But it had to be done.

  Deciding against changing his clothing, he bent to feel for a pulse in poor Samuel and was relieved to find one. Sarah liked the young man and Tanner certainly didn’t want to be responsible for bringing any more unnecessary grief upon her than he was about to. He made his way out of Greysmith’s and up the ever-stretching staircase to Sarah’s home.

  He stood for many long minutes outside her door, praying for the courage to knock upon it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The soft knocking at her door had Sarah sitting straight up, her heart careening inside her chest. Off kilter in the still-new darkness, she tried to place exactly where she was. After several long seconds, she threw back the covers and went to the door. The bolt was already open. Had she forgotten—after all that had happened—to slide the deadbolt?

  Oh, how she wished the peephole had been installed already.

  In her mind, she knew it couldn’t be Jason again. She still needed that restraining order, however, regardless of how long he did or did not stay in jail. Although she wasn’t all that confident a piece of paper would keep him away. The fear of ruining his reputation was the best card she could play. And she would.

  Another quick series of soft knocks revved up her heart and the words stuck in her throat before finally coming out.

  “Who is it?”

  A long pause stretched between her and the visitor as a shadow shuffled intermittently under the door.

  “Sarah…it’s…Tanner.”

  Sarah looked to the floor again and saw her letter to Tanner was missing. Had he read it in the hallway and responded so quickly? She glanced back at her illuminated clock. It was after midnight. Way too late for this and dangerously inappropriate, especially considering her experience the night before…with someone she knew and had once trusted.

  Still, curiosity got the best of her.

  It killed the cat, the voice of reason in her head reminded her.

  Satisfaction brought it back, Sarah countered.

  “Just a minute.” Sarah sped to the bathroom and retrieved her robe. She stuffed her phone and, on second thought, her scissors into the robe’s oversized pocket. Just in case he turned out to be a homicidal maniac. Which totally would not be the case. Most likely.

  She clicked the handle lock open, then gripped the knob with a damp hand.

  This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid.

  At the very least, she should call Ellie and tell her what was going on—or Adam, even. How many times could she expect them to come to her rescue?

  She pulled open the door and stared into the face of the Civil War soldier from her dream.

  Lieutenant James Dawson.

  Tanner.

  Dear God, what is going on?

  Sarah had meant to step into the hallway and not let Tanner into her apartment until she had a strong vibe of safety about him. Instead, her legs grew wobbly as she tried to reckon with the improbability that her dream soldier and Tanner were the same person.

  She forgot how to stand. Her resolve crumbled along with her upright position and when she came back to her senses, the man hovered above her.

  Gah! I’m a hazard to myself.

  Shaking the fogginess from her head, she scrambled back, away from him. Distance was what she needed. And the scissors maybe? Just-in-case seemed suddenly rather imminent. Her door was closed, and Tanner—the soldier—stood in front of the fire, covered in shadow. The flames made him appear to flicker so she couldn’t make him out clearly. The brief glimpse she’d had in the hallway before her brains went south wasn’t nearly enough. Her curiosity wanted to see him up close, but her good sense warned her otherwise.

  She reached back for the lamp on her nightstand.

  “Please don’t turn it on,” Tanner said. “Not yet.”

  Her heart did a stutter that had everything to do with fear. She gripped the scissors. She could scream and Adam would come running. Probably. Damn those new drapes. If they were open, she could see him plain as day.

  She eased against the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. “Why a
re you here, Tanner? So late? Why are you…dressed that way? You’re scaring me.”

  Tanner fussed at the tails of his long coat and light flickered off the large gold buttons lining the center of his chest. He lowered his head, drew in a long breath and held it, eyes closed.

  “I am truly sorry to have inconvenienced you with such a late night intrusion but I felt…I felt it imperative that we meet.”

  “Because of my letter?” Sarah asked. “I’m very confused.”

  Tanner hesitated. “Your letter, among other things, prompted me to action. Yes. Please don’t be frightened.”

  “Then let me turn on the light so I can see you clearly.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.”

  “And why would that be? What are you hiding?” Sarah pulled her phone from her pocket. She couldn’t make a call without him noticing the glow in the darkness, but if he turned away—even for a second—she would certainly try.

  “Sarah.” He hesitated. “There’s no easy way to explain this.”

  “Start at the beginning then.”

  “The beginning. That’s the very problem. The beginning was 1862. The day I died.”

  Tanner turned toward the fire, and Sarah noted his strong profile illuminated by the glow of the firelight. His eyes glistened as he composed himself, and she tried to make sense of his last statement.

  “I’m sorry. The day you died? What are you? A reenactment soldier? Cosplay nerd? Funny you didn’t mention any of that in your letters. Were they all a lie too? Are you another crazy stalker…or…something worse?”

  “Worse.”

  Sarah pulled the scissors from her robe pocket and slid her hand behind her back, her fingers laced in a death grip around the handles. She pushed herself up from the floor and backed against the wall, measuring the distance to the door, and then to Tanner. If she attacked him first, would it still be self-defense? She’d let him in her home, after all. Sort of. Finally, she couldn’t bear the silence any longer. If he was going to make a move on her, let him get on with it. The suspense of waiting was killing her already.