I forced my attention back to the Arctic blast that was giving Miss Prim a run for her money and took in the details I’d glossed over earlier. Logan’s facial expression wasn’t simply rigid, it was enraged.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Three pissed-off ghosts in one week. Why me? I searched out Hellhound. The blasted beast was asleep in the corner, oblivious to the gathering storm. We were going to have another talk about who was dragging the ghosts to Hell. Seriously. But later. Right then, an irate dearly-departed—minus the dearly—needed calming down before the situation got ugly, and my hyperventilating breaths screamed in protest at me being the one to calm him down.
I can do it. I can do it. Yeah, I wasn’t big on wordy pep talks. Instead, I sucked in a large breath. “Logan.”
And nothing. I wasn’t even a blip on the ghost’s radar. Thankfully, I wasn’t the object of Logan’s anger, either. Someone else held that privilege. Eric? Logan stared at the table squished full of his former co-workers, but I couldn’t tell who was awarded his focus. But obviously, somebody at that table had some explaining to do, over a stolen sandwich out of the work kitchen fridge, or murder. Which had yet to be determined.
“Logan,” I said in the loudest voice I dared to speak, which was exactly one decibel louder than a church mouse. Yet it struck his attention. A furious gaze held mine. Logan’s eyes were red. Just like Red-Eyed Ghost’s eyes from years before. Gone were the blue I had on filed memory. The red blazed the hate now directed at me. Oh, quadruple shit. And I hadn’t even confessed to being a Praedator.
“I only want to talk. I have—”
While flying backward through the air, the rest of my words went unsaid. Crashing down onto a table hurt like hell. Through the haze in my mind, I realized the surrounding voices had finally diminished. Static from the TVs was practically the only sound.
I rolled off the wooden surface and dropped to the floor. Pulling myself up to my knees, the lights went out right as I looked up. Nope, nothing was good about this at all. Damn ghosts and their taste for the dramatics. They loved to use pent-up energy to throw things around. And right then, it included me.
Glass shattered and screams echoed. I had a difficult time pushing to my feet as bodies of fleeing customers slammed into me, causing gravity to welcome me back with open arms. The room wasn’t completely dark as light flooded in from both the front windows and the open doorway where people poured outside.
I tracked Logan walking toward the back corner table. Tables shoved out of his way, and chairs flew through the air as he passed. Sideswiping a bottle of ketchup, I knew I had two point seven seconds to figure out what the hell to do before I reached his side. Except he stopped, and the front of me slammed into the back of him at the two point one second mark. He turned and faced me. Fury spread across his features, and it didn’t require a light to see. Why was my mind hell-bent on rescuing humans from an irate ghost? My butt should have been out the door when the first TV flicked off.
Gravity once again greeted me as my trembling knees gave out, and I dropped down to the sticky beer-drenched floor. My heart hammered so hard I knew I was three seconds away from a heart attack. Even though my mind screamed that distance between me and a certain death was a good thing, Logan had apparently lost the memo. He leaned over me, closing the small gap between our bodies. The place went up in sparks.
Except he wasn’t causing the flickers. The light show came from the fixture hanging above the table where I’d sat less than five minutes before. Miss Prim stood on top of the table, still wide-eyed and paler than death. The light bulb hanging from the fixture above her was having a spastic seizure from her outstretched fingertips, and the blinking light gave a rave-like atmosphere in the otherwise dim room as it sizzled and sparked from her volt of energy.
Logan swung around to face her, and she poofed. The light went out. Darkness. Silence. I realized I stood alone inside a bar with an angry ghost. The Health-Tech Systems crew had managed to slip out during Miss Prim’s light show. With one bitter yell, Logan disappeared.
Then it was just me. Alone in a bar. TVs shattered. Chairs knocked over. Beer puddled all over the floor. As I shook like a bobblehead doll, I realized none of my eleven-year-old questions were getting answered.
Chapter Twelve
The alley was pitch black, but sunlight would’ve been odd at that time considering it was ten o’clock at night. Boogeyman-repellant light would have been very much appreciated since a monster was certain to be lurking around every corner. The setting was ripe for a bloody death in a horror movie, and I apparently had no qualms about taking the lead. Head being chopped off was my destined future.
“Where are you?” My voice sounded too loud. Body shook as if I were suffering from a nerve disorder. Would ghost scaring the crap out of me be considered a proper medical diagnosis? Miss Prim, I could handle. But with New Target and Logan, all I saw was death. Mine. And I didn’t relish the thought of dying before I hit the depressing hair-tearing-wine-drinking-life-is-over thirtieth birthday.
Hands fisted as I turned in circles. With mind focused, the somewhat muted cars from the street behind me tuned out as I willed for him to appear. Damn, how I wished for a rewind button, giving me a re-do that guaranteed I wouldn’t be standing in an alley late at night while begging to be mugged. Or have my head sliced off. Maude would have been told to shove it on that particular night when the demands for coffee invaded my texts well after quitting time. Hadley and her employment law rants needed to be acknowledged. She was probably on to something.
Small rustling sounds echoed to my left, followed by tiny scampering feet. I found myself standing on top of an overturned crate that moments before had been sitting to my right. The pitter-patter had stopped before I cautiously stepped back onto solid ground. Yeah, well, walking into a deserted alley after dark was apparently a stupid idea. I turned, and a rock hard chest put an abrupt stop to my planned departure.
“Looking for me, mademoiselle?”
Words flowed over me like smooth honey. The sexiness in the tone of voice made me think of satin sheets. Nothing that night needed to involve satin sheets. Not a damn thing. Mind was informed to stop thinking about them. A charming grin on a handsome face reflected in the dim light—the face positioned too dangerously close to mine for comfort. As long as those teeth weren’t at my neck, all was good. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re in my alley.”
“You live here?” Scattered newspaper faintly glowed white on top of hard concrete in the darkness, and I wondered where he slept. “Seriously?”
“Of course not,” Tristan said. “But I’m the reason you’re here.”
“Arrogant much?” I pushed past him, and his hand caught my arm. A traitorous rush of heat shot through me, and Mind desperately sought to remember that he was a vampire. Tristan’s charms meant nothing more than his natural predator spell emitted to conquer a victim.
“Why do you search for me, Praedator?”
His thumb traced slow circles across my bare arm until goosebumps fleshed across my sensitive skin. Proof positive that my plan to search for a vampire in a dark alley was a bad decision. Very bad. Home would have been the wiser choice right then—tucked all cozy into bed while keeping far away from the bogeyman. And sexy vampires. But bed wasn’t where I stood. Teeth clenched tight as I decided to not admit a darn thing to Mr. Sexy Arrogant.
Tristan leaned forward, his voice low while his breath tickled my ear. “You need my help sending ghosts to Hell.”
“What if I do?” I jerked my arm from his grasp and missed the sudden loss of warmth. Which was odd considering vampires should be cold since they were dead. “What if I want to be trained?”
“Then you’re at the right place.” He stepped back, bending forward in a mocking half-bow. A smug smile tilted the corner of his lips. “Come.”
Come wasn’t a request. It was a demand, and my feet obeyed. I followed Tristan out of the alley and to the busy sidewalk. Ther
e was a sense of isolation while hovering at his back, despite the number of pedestrians scurrying past in the late hour. Brain still fought for common sense. Tristan should not, under any circumstance, be trusted. He had a charming smile. Nothing good ever came from a man with a charming smile. Most certainly should I not have been following said man with said smile to God-knows-where. Feet, however, gave brain very little heed as they kept walking.
Five minutes later, I was led into a first-floor apartment located surprisingly near my own building. Eyes scanned the room for the black coffin as I entered the vampire’s lair. Surely, he had a coffin.
Nope. The space, larger than my postage stamp of an apartment, but smaller than the top suite at the Ritz-Carlton—not that I’d been inside the top suite at the Ritz-Carlton—was crammed full of normal furnishings. Overstuffed leather sofas, a large flat-screen TV, and a stainless steel refrigerator. In other words, Tristan had a bachelor’s pad.
Damn vampire fantasy ruined. A king-sized bed with a satin comforter peeked at me through a bedroom door. More comfortable than a coffin, I felt certain. Undisputedly more pleasant for overnight guests. Yeah, my mind totally was not going there. Except it did.
Crap.
“What’s in the fridge?” I asked.
“Beer and food,” Tristan said. His body brushed against mine as he shut the front door. The space suddenly felt smaller than my bedroom closet. He leaned close. “My kind of food.”
I gulped. “Is now when you have your way with me?”
His lips curved. “Do you want me to have my way with you?”
He circled me. The lean muscles of his arm stretched as he reached out, brushing against my waist. Heat shot through to my core, and I stared into his eyes. A flame seemed to be lit in them and…
And I landed hard on my butt. Freakin-A. It could only take so much.
“What the hell was that?”
“You need to focus, ma chère.” His hand reached down in a gentlemanly gesture. “That’s your problem. You don’t focus.”
I brushed away his offer of help, my pride taking a stand. Gentleman did not knock women on their ass. Then I took a stand, literally, as I climbed back to my feet. “I focus.”
His brows raised.
“Normally, I’m focused.” Shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s been an off week.”
“What is a ghost to this world?” His circling started again. “It’s pure energy. A ghost doesn’t have to be near you to touch you.”
Butt hit floor. “Would you stop doing that?”
“I will after you stop thinking and start paying attention. Focus on your surroundings.” His fingers gave a frustrated push through short hair. Blond locks stuck high from the assault. “I believe you do have keen observation skills. Demon blood inside a human intensifies their senses and traits, although you’re limited compared to cambions. But right now, you’re letting your emotions overrule your gift. Figure out how to focus.”
How was I supposed to do that? Rubbing at my sore butt, I noticed his eyes following the movement of my hand. Heat flooded my cheeks. “You haven’t shown me how to send a ghost to Hell.”
“You’re not ready for that.”
The damn circling started again. My focus never strayed from his arms. “I’d still like to know, and don’t you dare tell me to get my sword.”
His arm shot out, and I caught it. His subsequent grin didn’t appear impressed. With a quick jerk of his arm, I was back on the floor.
“Get your sword.”
“I told you, I don’t know how to use it.”
“Then learn.” His arms crossed, and he leaned in a casual stance against the edge of his sofa. “First, learn how to prevent a ghost from creating energy to stop you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your demon blood allows you to pierce the veil.”
I thought back to Hadley’s words that day in the café. “What’s the veil?”
“It is what separates the different planes of existence. Ghosts live in another plane, one parallel to our world, that’s how they’re separated from the humans.” He pointed at me. “Your blood possesses the power to break through the veil onto their plane, which is something humans can’t do.”
“What?” My jaw dropped. “I can go where ghosts exist?”
“It’s possible, but the important detail to remember is that you can interact with ghosts the same way you interact with humans. Come.” He walked to a closed door located on the wall, catty-corner to his bedroom. “Humans can’t feel ghosts until the spirit has created energy in this world, but you can always touch them.”
Having been around ghosts my entire life, on some logical level, I already understood this. But to hear it spelled out, as Tristan had done, it finally clicked. A logical sense existed for how I was tormented by the dead while everyone else I knew enjoyed a life of oblivious bliss.
Tristan had disappeared from view. My feet moved toward the door from which he had vanished. Of course, following him was due to pure curiosity and not because the vampire snapped his fingers. Again. Damn curiosity. My curse better come with nine lives. One of these days, I was going to need every last one of them.
A staircase was tucked behind the door. Tristan’s apartment was on the first floor, and I expected to barge in on unsuspecting upstairs tenants eating a late night frozen entrée in front of the television when I reached the top step.
Instead, I stepped into a wide open space, a large square mat, and fitness equipment. Tristan had a gym rivaling any 24 Hour Fitness. And I had thought his place was smaller than the top Ritz Carlton suite?
Realization quickly hit that there was a heck of a lot more than gym equipment inside the room. Swords, knives, and other objects designed to cause mayhem and death were prominently displayed across a wall. One particular sword immediately captured my interest. The object was smooth as I traced its hilt, similar in size and weight to my own, the same one I refused to use. Where the heck had he gotten this? The man had enough weapons to start his own army—albeit, a seventeenth century one. Guns were noticeably absent from his Wall of Danger. I set the sword back in its place. “How do you have an upstairs gym?”
“This apartment is also mine.”
“How did you manage that?”
He shrugged. “Easy when you own the building.”
“You own this building? The entire building?”
“Sure.” He walked over and took a knife out of my hands. “I went through a real estate phase years ago.”
“How many years ago?”
“Years.” He pointed to the mat. “Over there.”
“You know, we need to establish a few rules. Rule number one, stop bossing me around,” I said while walking to the center of the mat exactly where he’d told me to go. He grinned.
“Before you learn offense, you’ve got to learn defense.” He kicked off his shoes and stepped in next to me. “Before you learn defense, you’ve got to learn to hone in on your observation skills and always, always be alert to your surroundings. Figure out how to separate it all from your emotions.”
My butt was back on the floor. Thankful for a softer landing than what had been available downstairs. For the next two hours, my butt got very friendly with the mat, and if it wasn’t having a social moment with leather and foam, it was sharing a quick brush with Tristan’s hand. His oh-so-innocent expressions mocked my glares, but absolutely nothing was innocent about his hand. And as soon as I was back to daydreaming about lack of clothing, satin sheets, and sensual bliss, he’d lecture me to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Damn hard to do when half the time I was worried about vampire seduction.
By the time I left Tristan’s place, it was midnight. Thankfully, in one piece and with no bite marks. But really, I stumbled more than walked. My neck may have still been intact, but my legs were a different story. They quivered rather than stood. Muscles existed within them I hadn’t even known about until right then, and all I’d really done was have Butt and Tristan’s
mat become best friends. Hadley had new competition in the friendship department.
I still wasn’t certain how bruising my posterior was going to keep me from having that same ass handed to me by an irate ghost. But never fear, I reminded myself. An upcoming defense portion of the training would hopefully be of some use. Oh. Joy. Muscles rebelled at the thought. And unfortunate for Muscles, my body was a dictatorship, not a democracy, and Muscles didn’t get a vote. Brain was in total control. Somewhat. So training was what I would do, as soon as I knocked out a schedule with Tristan. Which, at that moment, I was too tired to think about.
For once, the city’s streets were quiet as I stepped out into the lukewarm air, mentally kicking myself for rejecting Tristan’s gallant offer to walk me home. But there were still valid concerns the vampire would either wind up in my bed, or I’d end up on his dinner plate. If I wanted to be completely honest with myself—and I didn’t—my bruised ego only wanted to be left alone. Too many wounds to lick. Lots of them. Luckily, my apartment was not far, only a few blocks. I’d already taken eight hundred painful steps and counted every dang one of them. There seemed to be several hundred more to go, despite the current view of my building. I sighed. Cell Phone’s text notification chimed.
“Dang it, Maude!” Shut off the phone and go to sleep is what I itched to text back. Except it wasn’t Maude. “What the hell?”
Dinner @ Nicola’s tomorrow night. 7 p.m. Be prepared to discuss dress colors
Dress colors—what? Wrong number. My text notification chimed again. It was my mother. At midnight. Really? What the heck was going on?
SPOKE TO LACEY. YOU’RE IN WEDDING. BRIDESMAID DINNER. GAVE HER YOUR NUMBER.
Aw, crap. Dress colors… Bridesmaids dresses… I shoved the phone back into my pocket and set my jaw. Nope, not happening. And for the record, that wasn’t a no, but a hell no.
Reaping Havoc: Kiara Blake Book 1 Page 13