Ghost of a Summoning

by J E McDonald

  Trying to figure out what had clued him in, Roman turned a corner he hadn’t been planning on, changing his direction from his true objective. One more block and his suspicions were confirmed, but it wasn’t fire demons. He took the next right, then stopped as soon as he was out of sight.

  Thirty seconds later, a man with curly black hair rounded the corner. Dark slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a navy-blue tie immediately screamed “government.” The man tried to cover his surprise at being caught, stepping to the side like he was on his way somewhere else.

  Roman blocked his path. “Why are you following me?”

  For a second, the man looked like he would play dumb, but then he gave Roman a considering look. “You keep some interesting company.”

  The thoughts in Roman’s head all paused, questions filing in. Did this stranger know something of Roman’s work? Or did he know about Moe? Roman forced himself to keep his eyes on the man instead of searching for the demon. “You don’t know me.” He kept his voice casual.

  “Roman Milone,” the man said, leaning against the brick of the building and crossing his arms over his chest like he had all the time in the world. “You served in the French Foreign Legion from 2004 to 2009 and rose to the rank of corporal, stationed mostly in Kosovo and French Guiana.”

  Roman managed to keep his face blank. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  The man nodded. “Yeah.”

  He was impressed a little. The guy had to be working for the government if he knew that much about Roman’s service record. He shrugged and tucked his hands in his front pockets. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mr.…”

  “I do, don’t I?” the guy said, ignoring the prompt for his name with a grin. Then his expression fell and he straightened. “I’m actually more interested in a friend of yours, Jude Folkes, your former guardian.”

  Roman stiffened, knowing he hadn’t covered it enough for the man to not notice. “He’s no friend of mine.”

  “Oh?” The man relaxed against the wall again. “That’s even better. You might even want to talk to me if you’re the kind of man who likes doing the right thing. We could help each other out.”

  “Don’t need any help.” Roman turned on his heel and strode away. He heard the guy jog to catch up. “I especially don’t help people who won’t even tell me their name,” he added when the man fell into step beside him, small puddles splashing beneath their feet.

  The man jogged two paces and stopped in his path to extend his hand. “Ander Martinez.”

  After hesitating a moment, Roman took his hand, his glove protecting him from the pain of seeing the man’s soul. “Always a pleasure to meet an FBI agent.”

  It was Martinez’s turn to stiffen. “How do you know that?” He dropped his hand.

  Roman made an educated guess based on his outfit, the gun he wore at his ankle, and the earpiece in his ear. Without answering, Roman stepped around him to continue on in the completely wrong direction he needed to go.

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?” Martinez asked, falling into step beside him.

  “Yeah, you’re supposed to be impressed.”

  “I have to admit, I am a little,” Martinez said after a minute, studying him. They walked that way a while until Martinez spoke again. “Your friend-not-friend Folkes has been into some heavy shit lately. Know anything about it?”

  Roman shook his head. “No,” he said honestly. But his curiosity piqued to the max. What had Jude been involved in to have the FBI following him? Was he taking side jobs or was it something else? Did Roman even care? He probably should, but he had enough to worry about, and Jude’s problems were his own.

  “Look,” Roman said, stopping on the corner, traffic rolling up and down a busier street. “Whatever you planned by following me, Agent Martinez, it’s not going to work. And I don’t partner up. So how about you go back to following Jude and stay away from me?”

  Martinez stared at him, his head tipped to the side. Getting orders from his earpiece? Or was he the guy giving them? Could go either way, but if he’d been doing the leg work on this one, he probably followed them.

  The agent slid his hand in his back pocket, and Roman tensed, for a second believing Martinez was about to pull out cuffs. Instead, he held out a business card. “Take this in case you ever have the urge to chat.”

  “I won’t,” he replied but took the card anyway, sliding it into the pocket of his jacket without looking at it.

  The man nodded, then stepped in the direction of where they’d come from. “Be seeing you, Corporal.”

  Roman didn’t bother correcting him. He hadn’t been a corporal for ten years, not since he’d finished his service contract with the legionnaires.

  Once the agent was completely out of sight, Roman addressed the brick wall beside him. “How do you feel about some reconnaissance?”

  “Yes. Moe likes the sneaky stuff. Fun. Fun. Almost as fun as volcanoes and furry lollipops.”

  “Follow him. Find out where he’s going and what he’s up to.”

  Without saying more, Moe disappeared into the shadows. Roman probably should have reminded him not to eat dogs but couldn’t worry about that now.

  He continued on in a westerly direction, waiting to see if another tail would reveal itself. He couldn’t sense anyone as he scanned the area, searching, waiting, listening. Only when he felt completely alone did he circle back and continue on to his destination in old downtown: Relics Antique Store.

  Thankfully, the help wanted sign was still in the window where he’d seen it yesterday. Tinkling above his head signaled his entrance as he pushed open the door. The store looked empty, and the woman he’d met yesterday was nowhere to be seen.

  The plant holders she’d been struggling to install hung from the ceiling near the window, the green plants healthy in their mesh holders.

  “I’ll be right with you,” called a voice from behind the curtain that read “Staff Only.”

  Roman debated with himself again. Coming here today could be a total waste of time. There was no way Aubrey Karle could be the harbinger of evil the prophecy claimed. And if he’d gotten the wrong person, then he needed to find the real location of the Orphan Karle. He was running out of time. The date of the autumnal equinox drew closer with each passing second.

  But if she was connected to the prophecy, then he needed to know how. And needed to put a stop to it.

  She burst through the back curtain, then froze, her chin-length hair tucked behind one ear. A navy blue sundress highlighted her curves, stopping above the knee to show off shapely legs.

  “You,” she groaned, true horror on her face. “Oh my God, I can see the bump where the drill landed. You’re going to sue me, aren’t you?” She walked toward him, her eyes wide with caution and dread.

  Roman resisted the urge to touch his forehead, not realizing it was that visible. “I came to apply for the job.”

  A nervous laugh erupted from her lips as she stopped in front of him. “I was joking about that. I don’t need a keeper.”

  He frowned, then glanced over at the front display. “The one in your window.” He’d hoped the part-time position was still open.

  “Oh, that job. Of course.” She ran a shaky hand through the strands of her hair, her eyes darting over his body, his gloves, then back up to his face before she cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”

  Was he making her nervous? It didn’t surprise him. Women had never felt very comfortable around him. Maybe it was his size. Maybe it was something more intangible.

  “Roman Milone.” He retreated a step to give her more space, away from her intoxicating scent. Strawberries? Something sweet. Something delicious.

  He shook his head to clear it.

  “Nice to meet you,” she replied with a small smile, extending her hand for him to shake. “I’m Aubrey Karle.”

  Confirmation of her name settled inside him. He knew it was her, had seen her picture in the community newspaper during his
preliminary research. But deep down he’d hoped the article written about her when she’d opened the store was wrong.

  He took her hand, his glove protecting him from her skin and the blinding brightness of her soul.

  “Do you have a résumé?” she asked after dropping his hand.

  He shook his head. The stuff he could put on his résumé would give most people nightmares.

  “Have any experience in retail?” Her brows raised over hopeful eyes.

  He shook his head again.

  “References?”

  Hesitating, he thought of his commanding officer in the Legion or Father Robertson. It almost made him laugh. Meeting her eyes, he shook his head again.

  She bit her lip, and his whole body tightened in response. Damn. Why did she have to look good doing that? Being appealing on a physical level was not part of the plan. Not at all. She was his fucking target. One little gesture shouldn’t put him all out of whack.

  Brow furrowed, she tipped her head to the side. “Why should I hire you, then? You know, besides the whole employer-employee role playing scenario I’ll be fantasizing about later—” Her eyes widened. “Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

  His heart rate sped up. Every nerve in his body sprang into awareness. She’d definitely said it aloud.

  A flush crept over her features, and she cleared her throat again. “Right, so why should I hire you?”

  Good question. Besides needing to stay close to figure out the meaning behind the prophecy, there wasn’t much else he could tell her. “I’m strong.”

  Her assessing gaze warmed him. “I can see that.”

  “I can lift things.”

  “I have no doubt,” she said, her eyes moving to his gloved hands.

  “I work hard.” Even though he was starting to feel like Tarzan with his answers, it was the truth. When he started something, he followed through. He didn’t quit.

  With her lip caught between her teeth, she stared at him. Roman expected her to refuse, to say she needed someone who knew antiques, retail at least, but then she said, “I can’t pay you much.”

  “Minimum wage is fine.” He wasn’t here because of money. The Church paid him well. On top of that, he never spent his money, and his investments had grown enough he could retire in a few years if he wanted to.

  She pursed her lips. Her eyes narrowed like she was weighing her options, then she nodded. “Okay. Let’s start small. You can come in the mornings, and we’ll see how it goes.” She reached for one of her cards on the front counter. “Email me here, and I’ll send you the W-4 to fill out. Are you available tomorrow?”

  Taking the card, he nodded once.

  “Perfect. I open at nine-thirty. If you could be here five minutes before, that would be excellent.” Then she gave him a brilliant smile, one that seemed to shine from her core. “I’m really glad you aren’t here to sue me. That would have seriously wrecked the whole week.”

  That smile did something to him, warmed him in places he hadn’t realized were frozen. He backed away from her, heading toward the door. She watched him, her brow wrinkling adorably. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he said, grimacing at the sound of his rough voice. The bell tinkled again as he retreated.

  “See you tomorrow,” she called, the words muffled as the door closed behind him. He knew he shouldn’t have left so abruptly, but with her smiling at him like that, he needed to get away before he did something stupid. Without looking back, he headed out of old downtown.

  6

  The sun was low on the horizon as Aubrey walked through the sliding glass doors into the pet super-mart. She needed to grab some more cat food for her and Stella’s cat, Loki, and wanted a few other things for him too: treats and a couple new toys to keep him occupied during the day. Grabbing a basket from beside the cash registers, she headed toward the cat food section.

  She perused the name brand cat food and toys with feathers stuck on the ends of strings, but her thoughts returned to Roman Milone. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d been by herself at Relics until closing time, few customers and only Stella’s check-in text to distract her from her thoughts. Not even the matches on Simmer engaged her enough to keep her mind busy.

  After Roman left, Finn hadn’t wasted any time telling her he didn’t like him, first with a large X in the window of the entrance, then sad faces in shiny surfaces throughout the rest of the day. When she’d told him to stop it, he’d even made one of her boxes in the back, full of mismatched watch pieces, smash to the floor. Upset, she’d told him to back off or leave. Roman was going to work in the store and that was that.

  The show of Finn’s aggression surprised her. He’d never acted so volatile. While she’d swept up the gears and cogs, her thoughts raced. Was her ghost angry because she wouldn’t be able to converse with him freely with an employee in the store?

  As kids, they used to play twenty questions or “would you rather” all the time. Like her, Finn grew up in the Spokane, Washington area, and they shared a similar sense of humor—that was, until she grew up. She didn’t have much time to play games anymore. Her business was a constant worry.

  So was his outburst about that or something else? She couldn’t help thinking he didn’t like Roman for the simple fact that she found the large man attractive.

  And she did. And he was. Even if he had the whole “I can kill a man with bare hands” thing going for him, he appealed to her on a level she hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. Had she been so obvious about her feelings that Finn noticed? God, she hoped not. Letting the whole role-playing scenario thing slip had been bad enough. Fantasies were meant to stay in her head, not pass her lips.

  But if Finn thought he could influence her love life, then he was dead wrong.

  She winced at her own thoughts, glad she hadn’t voiced something that insensitive aloud. Finn might be a ghost, but he still had feelings. A twelve-year-old when he’d first shown up, he still remained a twelve-year-old today, complete with all the emotional trappings of an adolescent.

  And she really shouldn’t be thinking about the term “love life” and her future employee in the same sentence. She should put a stop to those thoughts right now.

  Sighing, Aubrey focused on the shelves in front of her, picking up a box of dried cat food and placing it in her basket. Scanning the different toys farther down the aisle, she straightened when she caught sight of a familiar physique out of the corner of her eye. Her limbs froze. Roman. After thinking about the guy all day, she’d somehow made the hunk of a man appear.

  As quietly as possible, she tiptoed to the end of the aisle, then around the corner. He stood in the dog food aisle, tall shelves on either side of him, the biggest dog bed she’d ever seen tucked under his arm. He still wore the same gloves, brown jacket, and black jeans she’d seen him in that morning. Though the outfit suited him, it was a bit much for the weather. It might be September, but the air still held the heat of summer, autumn only hinted at in the shifting colors of the trees. She could get away with wearing dresses without tights for a while yet.

  Her eyes inspected him up and down, liking the strength of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders. She never would have thought big guys would do it for her, but there was something about him that sent a shimmer along her nerves. He had an air of authority, of decisiveness, something dynamic she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

  The phone in her back pocket dinged a high-pitched tone. She stiffened.

  Roman’s eyes immediately tracked to her. Heart pumping hard in her chest, she smoothed the front of her dress and straightened from her position of flimsy concealment at the end of the aisle. “Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there.” She cringed at her feeble lie but decided to bluster through as she walked toward him. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  A silly thing to say, really, since she didn’t know anything about him. He must have realized how absurd the comment was too, because he cocked his head to the side and
didn’t answer.

  “What kind of dog do you have?” She cleared her throat and nodded her chin to the dog bed.

  Hesitating a moment, he said, “He’s a rare breed.”

  “I’ve always liked mutts myself. You know, saving a life from the shelter and all that.” She gestured to the cat food in her basket. “But my roommate and I have a cat, and he doesn’t like dogs, so that’s kind of out.”

  “The cat or the roommate?”

  “Ha!” she said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder, then wondering what the hell she was doing. Flirting? She’d never been any good at it. Shaking her head, she said, “No, my roommate is a woman. The cat is a boy.” She sucked at this small-talk thing so bad. And from the way he glanced down to where she’d hit him, his expression incredulous, it looked like he agreed.

  A scraping sound made her look up. Unbelievably, a large bag of dog food inched its way to the edge of the shelf.

  On its own.

  Right above Roman’s head.

  The sight made her blink and shake her head in an attempt to process what she saw. It happened in a heartbeat, too fast for her to articulate the danger.

  “Oh shit,” she murmured as it began to fall. She sprang at Roman, hitting him square in the chest, her whole body throbbing like she’d run straight into a brick wall. The force made him stumble backward, and she fell on top of him, her breath leaving her in a whoosh.

  A half second later, the bag hit the floor. Thwack. Kibble exploded from the package, beef-flavored orbs spraying everywhere, rolling and rolling down the aisle. A few startled shouts erupted from shoppers nearby.

  The sound made her flinch against him. They were pressed together, chest to toes, all the way down, her dress bunching around her thighs. His hands gripped her upper arms, and his heart beat a steady, unconcerned rhythm beneath her breasts—the exact opposite of her rapid pulse. With her face close to his, she could smell the earthy tones of his aftershave, the amber flecks in his blue eyes glinting at her.