Raging Spirits

by Angel Smits

  Suddenly, David’s face hovered above hers. His gaze probed hers, seeking and finding her responding desire. He kept his weight off her with his arms, and Clarissa sensed the restraint in his muscles. He rested just on top of her, his skin barely brushing hers.

  With one swift movement, he settled deep within her. At first he didn’t move. Eyes closed, head thrown back, he paused as if relishing the hot, wet feel of her.

  Slowly, enticingly, he moved again, and Clarissa arched against him, pressing her swollen breasts against the taut muscles of his chest. There wasn’t room in her desire for any distance between them.

  When the tenderness faded, she didn’t know or care. The urgency grew with each step of the dance, and just as she was sure she could take no more, she felt herself falling.

  She welcomed the hot fire searing her and ached for the bright shimmering stars that shattered in her mind. His name tore from her throat, echoing in the room and through her mind in an endless caress.

  Her cry broke the air. Together they fell into the blissful heat, then landed in the quiet of the night.

  The room grew silent except for the sound of their rushed breaths. Louder and louder it grew despite her desire to remain with her eyes closed. Relishing the sweetness thrumming through her body, Clarissa slid her eyes open.

  David’s eyes were open and staring down into hers. Gone was the warmth and tenderness. Gone was the sweet longing that had bound her to him from the beginning.

  The darkness had stolen back in. The evil had slipped through when their barriers were down.

  “No!” she cried, wanting to get away but knowing she could never escape his strength. She was still beneath him, and the heat that had enticed her earlier now scorched her skin.

  “Let me go.” Looking into his eyes, she knew this wasn’t David. Not really. Not the David she knew.

  “I can’t.” His voice was no longer soft but had returned to that growl she had come to associate with him. She trembled as the sound of his voice filled the room, growing strong with each resounding echo.

  What was happening? Struggling, she fought to escape his embrace. He was big and strong, though their energetic lovemaking must have weakened him some. Clarissa knew she would have done better against him without the throbbing protest of her still trembling limbs. What had he done to her?

  He rose, and she watched his silhouette in the moonlight. Hastily, she pushed away. She stood beside the bed. She had to run, but where? There was no door. All she saw was the single window where the moonlight crept in.

  The growl came again, this time a mighty roar. She spun around to find a mammoth lion crouched in the corner.

  Its eyes glowed in the darkness. A scream escaped from her throat, but the lion appeared not to hear it. With one mighty lunge, it came at her. Long, sharp teeth surrounded the roar and stinging pain scraped across her throat.

  Darkness settled around her, and she struggled against the heaviness of the air that wouldn’t allow her to breathe. She was dying. She was sure of it. She didn’t want to die, but pain and blackness like this could be nothing else.

  Suddenly, her eyes opened and she jerked up in bed. She stared at the familiar walls of her room. The air was cool, and the only sound was the slamming beat of her heart.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes, feeling the tangles and sweaty dampness. Her eyes darted around the room, finding nothing out of the ordinary. But she didn’t trust her own eyes. She turned on the bedside lamp and looked around again. She stopped short of peeking under the bed.

  She tried to still the pounding of her heart, tried breathing slowly, but to no avail. Her heart was still reacting to the intimacy with David’s dream image and the fear of the lion’s attack.

  Had it been a dream? Was it a vision? Or had it been real? No, it couldn’t be real. But it had felt so real. She threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. As she did so, she caught her reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

  Her eyes were wide with fright and her skin pale. She moved closer and couldn’t stop staring. Looking down, she noticed her swollen breasts with a light rash running across her skin. She’d had few lovers, but she knew whisker burn when she saw it.

  Her body told her the truth. Every muscle screamed to her that she’d experienced reality.

  She shoved her hair back and stared at her neck. A bright red scrape cut across the tender skin. Touching it, she winced. The pain was real.

  She stared at the bed, here in her room. The truth was confusing, but she knew that somewhere in the darkness she’d been made love to, but by whom . . . or what?

  Eight

  WHEN THE DOORBELL rang, a few minutes before ten the next morning, Clarissa nearly jumped out of her skin. Since she’d awakened from that horrid dream—or whatever it was—she hadn’t slept again. Every time she tried to close her eyes, the frighteningly sensual image of David reappeared.

  She wasn’t sure what scared her most. The vision dream—or the reality of knowing he could actually change into an animal. Did the fact that he’d changed into a bird mean he could become a lion? Or was that just her mind playing tricks on her? Or was it Rachel? A dozen questions swirled around in her mind. Like why and how this could happen.

  As she went to answer the door, she rubbed her burning eyes. She had no idea how she was going to make it through the day.

  Through the peephole in the door, she saw the all too familiar shape of David’s head. The bright morning sun glinted off the dark strands of his hair, and her knees trembled.

  But who—what—was really on the other side of the door? The bird ready to take flight? The man with the gentle kiss? The angry lion from the dream? The lover who’d caressed her body with sweet expertise?

  Last night’s haunting images were too real. What if she opened the door and that horrid beast was there, ready to lunge at her? Putting a protective hand to her throat, she shivered. Even the soft fleece of the turtleneck she wore provided little comfort.

  She could still see the gnashing teeth, still feel the throbbing pain of the gash along her throat. Backing up, she bumped against the wall.

  Time stretched on, and after a few more minutes, David rapped on the door. “Clarissa? Are you awake?”

  His voice echoed around the front porch. She knew she had to answer it, but she also knew she didn’t have the nerve. She had to know before she opened the door what she’d be facing.

  Slowly, she slid down the wall, huddling on the floor. She put her hands over her ears and breathed deep and slow. Like she had as a child, just as Granny had tried to teach her, she worked on clearing her mind of the negative images and her own fears that clung tightly to her sanity. She breathed slowly. In. Out.

  That’s it, child. She heard her grandmother’s remembered voice soothing and encouraging her. Trust your instincts. This was Granny’s technique for reaching past the concrete and pulling the elusive to her mind. It had worked for Granny, and it had to work for Clarissa now. It just had to.

  Softly, the world slid away. Clarissa’s rough nerves soothed, and in a short while she drifted away from the worries that plagued her.

  She could feel the vibrations coming around the door’s solidness. They were strong, which wasn’t unexpected with David’s strength of being. Sorting them out proved more difficult than she’d anticipated. Slowly, she again breathed out, cleansing her own confusion away. Sensing his emotions, she found concern and worry. Those feelings buoyed her flagging spirits.

  But deep beyond that, she felt fear and a healthy dose of complete terror. Once she picked up on that emotion, it seemed to bombard her, assaulting every emotion she held dear.

  It wasn’t just David. He was strong, yes, but this was beyond him. Something dark and evil clung to him. She couldn’t discern its origin, but she knew it was there, holding on to him. Trying to control
him. And whatever it was had failed so far.

  David was still in control.

  For now. But for how long?

  Lifting her head, Clarissa stared at the closed door. It hurt to deny him, hurt to turn away from him and the feelings she felt growing for him. It didn’t hurt to turn away from the beast, though.

  She stood and turned and walked into the kitchen. The silence pressed in on her as she strained to hear the sound of him leaving. When an engine roared, her eyes misted, and with the fading sound as he drove away, the tears slid down her cheeks.

  The phone rang, which didn’t surprise her. She stared at it, certain it was David calling. She let it ring. Let the machine answer. When his voice reached out and filled the room, she slammed her hands over her ears. She wasn’t ready to connect with him yet.

  Instead, she waited until the machine had stopped. Then she picked up the phone. After dialing Faith and asking her for a ride to work, she laid the receiver on the counter beside the phone.

  FAITH HAD BEEN gone for less than a week, yet Clarissa felt as if she hadn’t talked to her friend in years. After climbing into the car, Clarissa stared silently out the window as the city passed by.

  Faith managed to stay quiet for half a block. “Okay, what’s up?”

  Clarissa almost laughed out loud. “You don’t even want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. Especially when you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

  Clarissa probably hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the last time they’d talked. Faith twisted the rearview mirror toward her. “See?”

  Clarissa pushed the mirror back. She knew how bad she looked.

  “Does this have anything to do with that guy you were looking for? Did you find him?”

  “That’s an understatement,” Clarissa mumbled, then cleared her throat. “Yeah, I found him.”

  “Really?” Faith’s excitement brightened the car. “Who is he? Is he okay?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. We, uh . . . ” What should she say? “His name is David Lorde. I went to the bank where he works and told him about the visions.”

  “The David Lorde? As in the gorgeous bank owner? The one rolling in dough? The one people think killed his wife? Holy shit.”

  “Thanks so much for your help.” Clarissa leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, and her eyes ached. Heck, her whole body ached from the exhaustion. But instead of peace and rest behind her closed eyes, she saw David’s tormented face.

  Was there no escape?

  She felt the car come to a halt. She knew Faith was in curious reporter mode, but Clarissa didn’t need or want that right now. “I just need a friend,” she whispered.

  The silence was heavy, and Clarissa knew the decision was tough for Faith. She’d been a reporter too long to let go of her training.

  “You got it,” Faith said softly. “I won’t say a thing if you don’t want me to.”

  The offer was tempting, but Clarissa knew her thoughts were too mixed up, her emotions too raw to be able to judge what to do. There were too many variables to the whole situation. Visions. Ghosts. Shapeshifting. Passion. She needed Faith’s impartiality to help her decide what to do.

  “No. I need to talk to someone. Let’s head to the shop. Lindsey needs to go home. Do you have time for a cup?”

  “Twist my arm and I’ll take that triple mocha you’re famous for.”

  “Deal.”

  They accomplished the remainder of the drive in silence, though Clarissa knew Faith’s mind spun a mile a minute. She could almost see the gears turning in her friend’s head. Faith managed to hold off the questions, though, and that meant a lot to Clarissa.

  As it turned out, Lindsey had to wait for a ride, so she agreed to stay awhile longer as Clarissa and Faith sat and talked. By the time they settled into the privacy of Clarissa’s office with their coffee, Faith was ready to burst.

  But now that she had to talk, Clarissa wasn’t sure what to say, where to begin, or even if she should.

  Faith had other plans. “You can’t fink out on me now. You have my curiosity going, but that’s not the worst of it. You look like hell, Clarissa. What did he do to you?”

  Clarissa liked the protective sound in her friend’s voice. It comforted her, made her feel like she hadn’t lost quite all of her mind. “He hasn’t done anything bad. Not yet.”

  Clarissa felt herself relax and would have laughed at herself if her vision last night hadn’t been so vivid and frightening. She couldn’t seem to get it—or David Lorde—out of her mind. Everything made her think of him.

  Heck, what didn’t make her think of him? His eyes were the color of her morning coffee. His hair was the same shade as the rich imported chocolate she loved. The way the long strands fell just past his shoulder when they were freed and rippled in the wind as if beckoning to her . . .

  Faith snapped her fingers in front of Clarissa’s face. “Where are you off to?”

  “Oh, nowhere.” Clarissa reached out and picked up her drink. The rich mocha scent filled the air before they spoke again.

  “Have you ever done any para-photography?’

  “As in trying to take pictures of ghosts?

  How simple she made it sound. “Yeah. Sorta.”

  “What are you involved with? Does this have something to do with Lorde?”

  Clarissa hesitated. She wasn’t sure if Faith, who focused on facts as a photojournalist, would believe her or not, but she needed to talk to someone she trusted.

  “Don’t get mixed up with him.” Faith stirred her drink with more force than was necessary. “They never cleared him of his wife’s death, though the autopsy report said she died of cancer.”

  The image of Rachel as Clarissa had seen her in the mansion came to mind. He’d told her about the cancer, but had he hastened her death?

  “Her cancer was treatable, if caught early enough. She wasn’t getting treatment from any doctors here,” Faith said.

  “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t getting any treatment.” Once again she heard David’s remorse about trying to help her.

  Faith didn’t look convinced. “It wouldn’t be so suspicious, I suppose, if David Senior hadn’t killed his wife.”

  “What do you know about that?” All of a sudden Clarissa felt as if she were nosing around in David’s life. He’d asked for her help, but did that mean prying into his past? Did it have anything to do with what was going on now? “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “There isn’t much to know.” Faith took a deep swallow of her drink and smiled. “Yum. I don’t know what you put in this, but it’s heaven.” After another sip, she grew serious again. “There were no witnesses in the first Lorde case, and all the evidence showed it was a murder-suicide.”

  No witnesses? But David had told her he’d seen it all. That he’d been hiding in the music box. Had he lied? Had he seen it and never told anyone? Was that part of why he kept his emotions so tightly controlled? Or had the papers simply chosen to protect him and not report the entire story?

  The only person who knew was David, and she wasn’t sure if asking him was a good idea. Not only might she be putting herself in physical danger, but emotionally it was too risky.

  “So, how did you keep your vision from coming true?” Faith interrupted her thoughts. “Did he believe you?”

  “Not really. Not at first.” Clarissa explained what had happened that night at the diner. Was it really only a couple of days ago?

  “There you are.”

  The sound of David’s voice startled both of them, and Clarissa nearly spilled her drink. She swore and hastily set the cup down.

  He filled the entire doorway, making the office suddenly seem even smaller than usual. “H . . . hello, David.

  “I was worr
ied.” His smile was bright, but there were dark smudges under his eyes that marred the effect. “I stopped by your house this morning to give you a ride.”

  “Uh, David, this is my friend, Faith Burke. Faith, David Lorde. Sorry about this morning. I had things to do, so Faith gave me a ride.” Faith nodded but didn’t speak.

  David turned to face Clarissa. “Could we talk?” he glanced at Faith. “In private?”

  “I’m pretty busy right now. Can it wait?” Clarissa picked up their empty dishes and carried them out to the sink. Anything to escape the close confines of the office and Faith’s too interested gaze. David followed. Clarissa noticed Faith stayed in the office, though she knew her friend could hear every word they said from where she sat.

  David’s steps sounded heavy and loud in the sparsely filled coffeehouse. Lindsey sat at one of the tables by the door, rolling silverware in napkins, not paying them any attention.

  Clarissa’s mind kept seeking conversation starters, but all she came up with seemed so inane that she gave up. She didn’t want him to see how nervous she was. She didn’t want to alert whatever seemed to be shadowing him to the instability of her emotions.

  “So, how did you sleep last night?”

  She nearly stumbled. “Not bad,” she lied, again unsure how much she should tell him. “You know how it is when you’re too tired. It’s almost worse than being wide awake.” She walked to the sink and immersed her hands in the hot soapy water. “Want a cup of coffee? You look like you could use it. Help yourself.” Normal everyday activities helped keep her grounded.

  “So, how did you really sleep?” He filled a cup and took a deep swallow of the black coffee, never looking away from her.

  “What do you mean?”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous sound. “I can see you hardly slept at all. It’s not worth lying to me. I’ve been living in the land of insomnia too long not to know the signs.”