Haunt My Heart

by Medley, Lisa

  Perhaps some things were best not resurrected.

  Tanner walked the house, peering out the front windows from time to time, while Sarah showered and dressed for bed. Respecting her privacy was what his gentlemanly upbringing required, although every cell in his dematerialized body demanded another look, another touch, another taste. The memory made the physical loss of her all the sharper.

  His heart soared briefly when she pulled the ring up by the chain from the depths of her purse. Holding it to the light, she inspected her reflection in the shining black stone. Hesitantly, she lowered it into her palm and closed it around the ring. The downward curl of the corner of her mouth and the worry swirl between her brows quashed the hopeful flutter in his chest. Her free hand fisted around the ring, knuckles turning white with the effort, and then she dropped it back into the dark cavern.

  She’d made a choice.

  *

  Dreams and an unfamiliar bed had left Sarah with fitful sleep. Once she’d startled herself awake, thinking Tanner had slipped in beside her. Her heart hammering against her sternum, she’d rolled over to find Bitly curled against her. No one else.

  Perhaps she’d imagined the entire thing. Maybe she’d been under more stress than she’d thought. Had a psychotic break of some sort. If not for Ellie, she could have made herself believe all that. Instead, she’d felt better, if only briefly, after spilling the entire truth to Ellie and been validated by her friend’s supportive response.

  Hours after she’d fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep, the sound of breaking glass stirred her. Bitly rose, arched and hissed beside her, staring at the guest room doorway.

  Fear rose inside her as she came to full alertness, her eyes adjusting in the darkness enough to make out someone moving through the house. She slid out of the bed silently, dragging Bitly off the bed beside her, stroking him to ease his low growling. Searching the room, she looked for something she could use as a weapon. There was really nowhere to hide except for the side of the bed not facing the door where she already crouched, which offered no real coverage.

  A quick glance showed her the window behind her was locked, and she couldn’t unlock it without drawing attention. The intruder made his way through the main bedroom, and she heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor.

  The doorway filled with torso and shadow, and she cowered further, half crawling under the bed. His heavy breathing sounded in her ears like ocean in a seashell, drowning out even the pounding of her own heart.

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  Jason.

  Relief and dread battled within her. At least this was a devil she knew. But this was a devil she knew. She drew herself up from the floor and stood, keeping the bed between them.

  “What are you doing here, Jason? I have a restraining order.”

  He flipped on the bedroom light, and her eyes squinted against the harshness as they adjusted. Several days of unshaved beard covered his lower jaw, his hair hung limp and stringy without his usual array of products to keep it erect and in place. She’d never seen the thrift store quality clothes he wore. The gloves on his hands worried her most. They weren’t winter gloves. They were rubber gloves, the sort used for dirty labor.

  “Right. Fifty feet from your home. This isn’t your home or work. And when you weren’t at either of those places, I knew you’d come here.”

  “It’s also fifty feet from me. You understand contracts. Do you want to go back to jail?”

  “You’ve already ruined my career.”

  Sarah started to protest, but the look in his eye told her he wasn’t interested in rebuttals. He took one step toward her, and she pressed her back against the wall. His second step brought him to the opposite edge of the bed. She sidestepped to the right, and he lunged, catching the end of her T-shirt and yanking her across the bed. The shirt ripped from her shoulder and hung across her, barely attached by the reinforced collar.

  His second lunge had her by the hair. Jason dragged her as she scrambled for her footing on the slick hardwoods. Struggling, she lashed above her head, trying to make contact, to inflict damage, to force him to release her. Jason pushed his knee into her back and pinned her face to the floor. An unusual tearing sound caused goosebumps to creep across her flesh. Her flailing arms were caught and twisted behind her back. Wide sticky tape bound her wrists against one another and her fear rose like bile.

  “Jason! What are you doing? This isn’t you. Stop before…”

  A piece of tape pressed against her mouth, silencing her. Only Ellie knew where she was, and she wouldn’t be back until Thursday. Sarah wondered if she’d even make it through the night, let alone until Thursday. She hadn’t screamed. Not that it would have done any good. Ellie’s neighborhood was along the highway, just on the outskirts of town. On the edge of the historic district. Her father had bought the house ostensibly as an investment, letting Ellie live rent-free. The homes were each on a half-acre lot. No one would have heard her. And now?

  Sounds emitted from her, unbidden. She couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper leaking out. There was no Adam or Tanner to save her this time. The sound of more tape tearing spurred her to action. Sarah rolled beneath him and pulled her knees up, then kicked him hard in the groin. Jason doubled over, and she struggled to her feet.

  Out of the house!

  She raced to the front door as Jason squirmed on the floor, cradling his damaged jewels. Desperate, she forced herself to slow and concentrate as she worked the door knob behind her back with her entrapped hands. The door clicked, and she pulled it open. Sarah pushed out of the screen door, and it slammed back against the house with her effort. She scanned up and down the empty street, but found no passing cars this early. She turned right, back toward town. There were twenty-four hour gas stations and a McDonald’s if she could make it there before Jason recovered enough to take chase.

  Hands on her shoulders nearly stopped her heart as she spun around.

  “Shhh.” Agent Sykes peeled the tape from her mouth in one quick effort, the removal stinging as it pulled her skin. A knife slid between her skin and the tape around her wrists, freeing her arms.

  “He’s inside. My ex. He…he…”

  “Go to the Suburban, a block down. Lock yourself in and wait for me. Don’t come out until I come for you. Use the OnStar and call the police.” Agent Sykes pressed the key fob in her hand. “Go!” He turned and raced back to Ellie’s house. His drawn weapon flashed in the street light.

  She didn’t ask any questions. She ran. Straight to the Suburban and did what he told her, trembling nearly beyond control as she waited for some sign of help.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Agent Sykes entered the home to find Sarah’s assailant gathering his supplies into a duffle bag and preparing to make a hasty exit. When the man saw him, he turned for the back door.

  “NSA. Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  The man turned, raising a 9mm from his side. Agent Sykes shot him once in his upper chest and the man fell to his knees, dropping the duffle bag. Sykes kept his gun trained on the assailant and waited. He’d shoot him again if he had to. Seconds later, the man fell forward, his face turned to the side, eyes wide. His head cracked upon impact against the hardwood floor and blood oozed from his open mouth, the result of the last beats of his ruined heart.

  Sirens wailed, distant at first then growing louder as they approached.

  Good girl.

  It wasn’t the first man Agent Sykes had shot in the line of duty, but it didn’t get easier. Normally, his quarry sat behind thick eye glasses and a computer screen. Geeks and hackers. He used the barrel of his weapon to part the unzipped duffle bag, revealing a roll of duct tape, two hunting knives and a box of heavy duty trash bags. If he hadn’t been surveilling the girl after dropping her off at her house, Sarah Knight would, from all appearances, have ended up a victim of a violent crime. Nothing in the duffle said romantic interlude.

  Some days, a guy got lucky.

  Off
icers arrived outside. Agent Sykes holstered his weapon and held his badge high above his head, both hands showing. The next six to twelve hours would be filled with questions and paperwork, first at the local precinct then at his own, despite the fact the kill was clean. The assailant faced him on the floor, his weapon still in his hand.

  This girl was in a mess the depth of which he had yet to determine, and he wondered if the attack was related to the Brothers of Peril.

  The dragon scar on the palm of the dead assailant’s hand said it was.

  *

  Tanner drew as much energy from the investigating officers as he could while Sarah sat inside the ambulance, covered in a blanket. Shock, the paramedics had said. He wasn’t surprised. Tanner had experienced quite a fright himself. Helpless to come to her aid, he’d watched in horror as Jason subdued her. A shudder passed through him. The fresh thought of Sarah coming to harm further enraged him. He needed to be careful he didn’t materialize, rather store enough energy so he could reveal himself to Sarah when they were alone again. God only knew how long that might be now. At least she was safe, in police hands. And Jason…would no longer be a threat to her.

  What the hell was the man thinking?

  Obviously, Tanner hadn’t known Jason prior to meeting Sarah, but the man’s apparent decline in the past few weeks had been rapid. He’d gathered that while he’d always been a bully, he’d been respected in his professional circles.

  The most puzzling aspect now, as the technicians rolled the body into a black zipper bag, was the dragon scar Tanner had spied on Jason’s hand. When Jason had attacked Sarah the first time, he’d been burned by the ring. Could that interaction have somehow transferred the contagion of his hex? There were such laws of magic, like the Law of Contagion, which might account for such a thing. An object, once hexed, could in theory continue to project its magic onto any and all who came into contact with it.

  His mind churned.

  Police personnel gathered Sarah’s personal belongings and presented her purse and phone to her upon her request. They insisted she ride to the hospital for a more thorough evaluation. Much to his relief, she agreed to the checkup, but refused to let them call anyone on her behalf.

  Tanner took his place inside the emergency vehicle and worried at Sarah’s vacant stare. He gathered her hand in his, and let her draw energy from him, although she wasn’t aware of the exchange.

  Ten minutes later, she was being put through an entire battery of tests and given a light sedative so she would sleep. A few hours of rest—the most healing and restorative medicine. Tanner used the time to roam the hospital halls and reenergize completely from the host of visitors. Sometime in the early afternoon, he caught a young maintenance worker alone in a supply closet and took his fill to fully materialize, then made his way back through the labyrinth of hallways to Sarah’s room. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes focused on him with recognition and relief as he entered.

  “Tanner? Where have you been?”

  Tanner approached her cautiously, uncertain.

  “I’m so sorry. I told you I might not be able to stay. When my energy faded, so did I. I’ve been with you though. The entire time. I saw…everything.”

  Sarah covered her face with her hands. “Jason is dead. I don’t know how this has happened. Or what happened to him. He has disintegrated these past few weeks. Like something had hold of him. Changed him.”

  Tanner crossed to the side of her bed and tentatively reached for her hand. “I think it’s the hex. I think the black magic of the ring has affected us all somehow. That first time he touched the ring. Do you remember?”

  “It…burned him. His hand.”

  “Yes, I think the hex affected him after that. It may well have been the reason behind some of his actions.”

  “Poor Jason.”

  “It wasn’t the reason behind his first attack on you. That was solely the responsibility of his own heart. Regardless, it’s time to end this before anyone else gets hurt. Before you get hurt.”

  “How?” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I’ll tell you how,” Ellie said, standing just inside the doorway of Sarah’s room, surprising them both. “Alex. We’re going to destroy that ring and whatever bullshit voodoo is attached to it.”

  “Ellie? How did you know? What are you doing here so early?”

  Ellie’s eyes bored into Tanner, her distrust and anger evident. “Tanner, I presume?”

  “Yes. It is my honor to make your acquaintance, Ellie.” Tanner extended a hand in greeting, which was rebuffed.

  “I’m not feeling real warm and fuzzy about you yet, Tanner. I’m not sure if you’re the cause or the cure for this fiasco.” Ellie closed the distance to the bed and gave Sarah a thorough appraisal. “So he’s dead?”

  “Yes. NSA Agent Sykes killed him after Jason drew a gun on him. Ellie, he broke into your house. He was trying to abduct me…or worse. I kicked him and ran. If Agent Sykes hadn’t been there…”

  Ellie hugged Sarah to her. “Shhh. For all that’s happened, you’re still a lucky, lucky girl. Where’s that damned ring?”

  “It’s in my purse,” Sarah offered.

  “Alex is expecting us. Let’s end this thing.” Ellie gave Tanner a hard look.

  Tanner slid his hand from Sarah’s. “Yes.”

  Sarah’s concerned gaze met his own. “What will happen to you? If we manage to destroy the magic of the ring?”

  “I’m ready to find out,” Tanner said. “You’ve been through enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alex Cayce worked out of the psychic shop only a few blocks from Sarah’s apartment. The street-level shop windows were filled with candles, stone and ceramic angels, fat Buddhas, live plants, and flowers. An oval-shaped neon blue sign flashed PSYCHIC READING with a red neon hand glowing within its center. A sunburst wind chime hung from the doorway and tinkled as Sarah followed Ellie through the already partially opened door.

  It was after five and most of the shops along the street were locked up for the night. Weekday hours were short in the winter, with the exception of First Fridays. Ellie led the way, a longtime customer of Alex’s.

  Alex peered around the door frame between two floor-to-ceiling curtains, and then crossed to the door to shut and lock it behind them. “This way.”

  She led them through the shop. Clear bottles lined the back wall, bright yellow, hand-lettered labels describing the contents: oils, powders, herbs and more. Books, tarot cards and CDs lined the other walls and displays of jewelry, stones, crystals, candles and wands filled the center display tables. In front of the apothecary wall ran a long glass counter filled with an array of ritual knives. A rack of Tshirts and tie-dyed dresses hung in the center. One black shirt with a colorful third eye stared at them, pinned to the wall by the video surveillance camera declaring, “I have my eye on you.” An impressive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting prisms around the room.

  “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. I—“

  “Stop.” Alex held her spread palm toward Sarah. “Don’t tell me anything else. I understand you have questions about a hex? The less I know, the more accurately I can determine if a hex exists. That’s all I need to know for now. I’ll ask more when the need arises.”

  Alex continued into a back room, which was, in contrast to the shop itself, homey and ordinary. Sarah realized she’d imagined more Romanian gypsy than shabby chic.

  Alex sat in an overstuffed red chair—lace doilies covering each of the piece’s threadbare arms—and motioned to the small chair that circled a rather large wooden coffee table.

  Ellie grasped Sarah’s hand and led her to the loveseat, leaving Tanner to sit alone in a single, hardback chair.

  “Before we begin, you’re probably wondering about my fee. I charge a flat fee for an hour of service—seventy five dollars—regardless of how long it actually takes. If a hex or curse is determined to exist, I’ll gladly assist with its removal for no addition
al cost. No one likes a hex. Now, which of you is afflicted?”

  As usual, Ellie took charge and pointed an accusatory finger at Tanner. “It’s him. And this. Show her, Sarah.”

  Sarah pulled the ring by the chain from her purse.

  “Lay the object on the table, please. And then sit back away from it.” Alex let the object settle on the table, and then turned her attention to Tanner. “Your name, please.”

  Tanner cleared his throat. “James ‘Tanner’ Dawson, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Dawson, have you been out of the country recently? Or do you have any enemies proficient in any magical systems?

  “No, I have not been out of the country. Yes, I have encountered a woman quite capable with magical systems.”

  “Your hands, please. Palms up.”

  Holding her own hands forward and palms up, she waited while Tanner leaned in and placed the backs of his hands in her palms. At the instant of contact, Alex’s hands closed tightly around Tanner’s and her head snapped back, eyes rolling up behind her open lids. Sarah pitched forward, uncertain whether or not an intervention needed to be made on either’s behalf, but Ellie quietly held her in place with a hand on her thigh and shook her head ‘no.’

  After several long moments, Alex came out of her trance-like state and focused, once again, on Tanner’s face. Her gaze slid down his torso, taking him in—his dress, his form, his essence—and settled on his palms.

  “Your aura is darkly mottled and thin. The energy you have is not your own. You are an incubus of some sort, a psychic vampire somehow incarnate. You are something I haven’t seen.” The skin of her brow, between her eyes, furrowed in a grim swirl.

  “This star.” She pointed to a starburst of lines on his hand, which looked like an asterisk. “This is the Star of David, sitting directly upon your lifeline. Run through by your lifeline, if you want to be exact. See how it stops just at the right, outside edge of the star? This indicates life before the hex, the hex, and then…nothing.”

  Sarah’s nails bit into her palms as she sat silent, listening. Normally she would have discounted Ellie’s psychic, but now? She hung on her every word. Jason was dead because of her. Somehow she was sure of it.