by K. J. Emrick
Darcy reached further outward, trying to sense Annie’s ghost but still without any luck. She didn’t have all the time in the world to search. This had to be quick, and there was still one more person’s ghost to look for.
Charlie’s brother.
She reached into Charlie again, this time casting about for his feelings for his twin, Samuel Huntsman. They were there, buried deep down inside, kept in a tangled knot so immense that Darcy couldn’t begin to unravel it. There were multiple strings leading away from it, arcing away in every direction. She didn’t understand what she was seeing but she didn’t have to. She just needed to touch that twisted hot ball of emotion, immerse herself in it and then reach out through the ether to feel for his brother… for Samuel…
And then his face was there, the spitting image of Charlie’s except… the flesh was tattered, and torn, and the red hair was thinner and brittle and the mouth hung open in a scream that Darcy couldn’t hear, showing off jagged, broken teeth in a gaping hollow of darkness. Samuel’s face was huge as it loomed at Darcy, larger than life, larger than death itself, and she threw herself back from him with a reflexive shudder.
With a gasp, she found herself standing in her kitchen again. Her heart was hammering. Her vision blurred, and then cleared again.
Charlie looked over his shoulder at her. “Do you mind?”
Her hand was still on his shoulder, she realized. His twin brother had scared her half to death, but she hadn’t let go of Charlie. After everything she’d just done, everything she’d seen, she knew that only a fraction of a second had passed out here in the real world. They had been between tick and tock, the second hand barely moving. Now, time was in motion again and she had no explanation for her hand being where it was.
Or why she was suddenly tired right down to her bones.
“Sorry,” she said, thinking quickly. “I slipped. Thanks for catching me.”
He blinked at her. He knew something had just passed between them, but of course there was no way for him to know what that something was. An odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. A tickling at the base of his skull. That was all he would remember.
Darcy, on the other hand, remembered all of it.
“Just give me my money,” he finally said, “and I’ll be on my way.”
Jon gave her a glance, silently asking her if she had everything she needed. A shiver ran down her spine because, yes, she had an answer.
That face rushing at her out of the darkness of Charlie’s soul…
The severed connections that had once linked him to his girlfriend…
When she nodded back to him, he took her meaning.
“You’re absolutely right,” he told Charlie as Darcy took her hand away. “We’ve held you up long enough. Here’s the money, tip included. Thanks again. Good night.”
Charlie took the cash, holding it tightly in his left hand, staring at it like it might evaporate into thin air if he looked away. “That’s all? No more questions?”
“You said you didn’t want to answer anything. Why would I push you? This thing between you and your brother is obviously a private matter. Let’s keep it that way.” Jon was laying it on thick now. “You have a good night. Thanks for the pizza.”
“Uh, sure. Right. I guess… good night, then?”
Jon clapped Charlie on the back in a way that was friendly, but dismissive. The man hung his head low as he scurried for the door, back out into the warm evening sunshine.
“Isn’t it weird,” Jon said, almost to himself, “that he keeps wearing that windbreaker? I mean, this is the hottest August we’ve had for years. Not exactly jacket weather.”
“That is what makes this weird for you?” Darcy asked him, pushing her hair back from her face with both hands, holding it at the nape of her neck, thinking back to what her séance had shown her.
Weird didn’t begin to cover it.
The deep exhaustion from her casting sent an ache through the muscles along her shoulders, as if she’d been physically pushing a boulder uphill. Her body would recover in a day, maybe two. It was the images in her mind that she would never get over.
Jon came to her, stepping up close behind her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as if he could read her mind and know right where to… oh. Oh, yes. He used his thumbs to expertly put pressure on all the tight little knots, making them relax, easing all the tension away. She didn’t know how he knew where to work his magic. She didn’t care, either. She just eased into it and let herself be putty in his hands.
Those wonderful, sexy hands.
She hadn’t realized her eyes had closed until she heard a soft thump next to her and opened them again, to find Tiptoe up on the countertop. Her tail curled around her feet as she narrowed her eyes at the front door. Had she been listening, Darcy wondered? Yes. Of course she had. Tiptoe was always around somewhere, stealthily paying attention to everything. She was a smart cat. Right now, she was thinking about Charlie, same as they were.
“So what did you see?” Jon asked, but only after several minutes had passed with just the silence, and his wonderful hands.
“Well, I went looking for both of them, like we discussed. Annie first.”
“Okay. The girlfriend is missing, and he doesn’t seem all that upset about it… so is she…?”
“Dead?” Darcy pushed back into his massaging fingers as the knots threatened to tighten up again. “I think so. I didn’t actually see her ghost, but all of the emotional ties that used to connect the two of them have been cut. It happened suddenly and forcefully. That’s usually associated with a deep loss.”
“Like death.”
“Right.”
“Usually,” he clarified, “but not always?”
“No, not always. That’s what it seemed like to me but, I mean, this isn’t an exact science…”
“It’s not a science at all. It’s more like—”
“Don’t you dare say witchcraft Jon, so help me.”
“I was going to say,” he corrected himself, “it’s like magic. You know how it works and no one else does, and that’s fine by me. You’re not a witch, Darcy. You’re an amazing woman with an amazing talent.”
Willamena Duell was Darcy’s most distant ancestor that she was aware of. She’d come here to America from France after accusations of her being a witch had surfaced. As far as Darcy was concerned, the jury was still out. Willamena Duell might be an ancestor but that didn’t mean there was anything left of her in Darcy’s genes. Whatever Willamena might have been into, it had nothing to do with Darcy. She was not a witch. No pointy hats. No crooked nose with a wart. No green skin. Just a rare talent that scared most people.
She loved Jon for saying so.
“Okay,” he said. “So we’re pretty sure Annie is dead. I can let Maxwell Dillon know to have his people start looking into Annie’s disappearance as a possible suspicious death and yes, don’t worry. I’ll make it sound like it was a lead I came up with on my own. Now. Here’s the really big question. What about Samuel Huntsman? Did you find out anything about him?”
Darcy saw that decaying face from her casting again, broken teeth in a gaping mouth, horrible blank eyes, racing up at her from the dark depths of oblivion.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “He’s dead. Samuel Huntsman is definitely dead.”
His arms wrapped around her and pulled her in close. “Then we’re sure. We definitely have another murder mystery on our hands.”
“Without a doubt.”
Darcy sighed, rolling her head back against his shoulder. Misty Hollow never failed to disappoint.
On the counter next to them, Tiptoe mewled softly. Apparently she wasn’t happy about the news, either.
Darcy smiled at her. “You know cats aren’t allowed on the countertop, right?”
Tiptoe twitched her whiskers and resettled her feet. It was the posture of a queen, sitting on her throne in her own castle. That was where she belonged, she was saying. Up here where she h
ad the best view of everything.
Jon hummed thoughtfully. She could feel it vibrating between her shoulder blades. His body felt so nice pressed against hers like this. He made her feel safe, and comfortable, like no man ever could. He made her feel… like a woman should feel. Maybe, she thought to herself, there would be time to sneak upstairs before everyone had their slices of pizza…
“Mom?” she heard Zane ask suddenly. He was standing just inside the entryway from the living room, right at the corner of the cabinets, and she wondered how long he’d been there. “What’s a murder?”
Well, that answered that question.
Darcy sighed. She had always answered her kids’ questions when they wanted to know something, and she wasn’t going to stop now just because the topic was unpleasant. “Murder, honey, is when one person makes another person dead on purpose.”
She kept the explanation simple for Zane. He’d learn all about malice and jealousy and the cold things that lurked in peoples’ hearts later. For now, a simple answer would be best for him.
“Oh,” he said, and pursed his lips while he thought about it. Then his eyes lit up. “Hey, I smells pizza!”
Trotting into the room beside him, Cha Cha sniffed the air. His tongue fell out of his mouth and he cocked his head over to one side while his long ears dangled. He smelled the pizza too. His doggy eyes were full of hope that he might get some of it.
“Pizza is not for puppy dogs,” Darcy reminded him. “You can have some of your nice kibble. Maybe a small amount of cheese if you’re a good dog.”
He chuffed happily at the mention of cheese.
Tiptoe sneezed.
“Yes, you too,” Darcy promised her cat. “Cheese for everyone.”
Jon moved to keep her in his arms, reminding her how wonderful his body felt, and the idea she’d had of taking him upstairs for maybe just a few minutes of alone time. They could always set Zane up in the living room by the television with a big plate of pizza and chips, and then tell him there was something Mommy and Daddy needed to take care of…
Then the front door opened behind them, and a whirlwind in the shape of a twelve-year-old girl came flying inside.
“Hi guys,” Colby called out to everyone. “I’m home for supper. Hey, are we having pizza again? All right!”
Darcy felt a sigh welling up from inside, but Jon beat her to it.
“I’ll get the plates,” he said, reluctantly letting go of her.
His mind had been going the same direction as hers, she realized, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling like a fool. She loved her kids. Even when they interrupted her romantic life with her husband, she would put them first. They could have her attention for now, along with Cha Cha and Tiptoe, and maybe even a new murder mystery.
But she promised herself there would be time for her and Jon to be alone together later, after little children were tucked in bed, and the only one watching them would be the moon through their bedroom window. No children to interrupt. No pets to beg for food.
Imagine, she thought to herself. Just imagine what their life would be like if they had a third child in the mix.
Just imagine.
Chapter 8
Jon had already left for work the next day when Darcy’s alarm woke her. It was still early, and she had plenty of time to get ready and go to the bookstore before it opened, but she was exhausted. She gave half a thought to texting Izzy that she would be late coming in, rolling over and going back to sleep for another two hours, but that wouldn’t be fair. This was what being an adult meant. Getting out of bed when you really didn’t want to.
Besides. She had two young children and two furry babies who all needed her attention.
Last night with Jon had been… wonderful. If there was another word that meant the same thing, only double, then that word was what last night had been for Darcy. Jon had kept her up well past midnight, paying attention to her every desire. There was this thing he did where he rubbed her shoulders while he was… um, paying attention to her.
The memory was going to keep her smiling all day, she knew that. Frankly, she didn’t think she did too bad by him, either. When he finally went to sleep, he drifted off right away, leaving her to listen to his heartbeat and watch his face shadowed by the silvery moonlight until sleep claimed her as well.
She was humming to herself as she got up and dressed herself in her pajamas and her robe. She had to get the kids up first, and then make sure Cha Cha and Tiptoe had food in their bowls, and then she could take a shower after that. And get some breakfast for her and the kids. Oh. And get dressed, unless she wanted to sell books in her pink cloud pajamas. Which, for the record, she did not.
Still singing under her breath, she stretched and went down the hall to Colby’s room to wake her up. She knocked on the open door and poked her head inside. To her surprise, she saw Tiptoe was in here, curled up on the bed next to an already awake Colby. She purred loudly as the little girl stroked her back and scratched between her ears, loving every second of it.
Colby was sitting on the edge of the bed, not just awake but dressed in her jean capris and a purple tank top that reminded Darcy of the ones she used to wear herself when she was Colby’s age. Like mother like daughter, she supposed.
“Wow, look who’s ready to greet the day.”
“Hi, Mom,” Colby mumbled.
Hmm. That didn’t sound all that enthusiastic. She went over to her daughter’s bed and sat down on the other side of Tiptoe, and now their furry feline was just in heaven to have two people petting her all over. She rolled over onto her back, paws in the air, eyes closed, tail twitching, and if ever an expression said “don’t stop” it was the one on this cat’s face.
“I think she likes this.”
“She’s a good cat,” Colby said. “She doesn’t even chase the birds anymore.”
That kind of caught Darcy off guard. “Wait. When was she chasing birds?”
Colby shrugged. “A while ago. She doesn’t trust the birds. Something about them being spies, or something. Ask Zane. He asked her about it but I can’t remember everything he said. He’s such an annoying little brother.”
Tiptoe brought her face up to sniff at Darcy, and something about the way she had her eyes narrowed and her whiskers laid back seemed to convey the thought that birds were evil and should die.
Darcy thought that was probably just a little bit of jealousy on the cat’s part. Birds could fly, but all members of the feline species were confined to the ground. On the other hand, she was happy to see how well Colby was accepting her little brother’s unique gift. Even if he was ‘annoying’ just for being born a boy.
“Are you going over to Audrey’s house again today?” Darcy asked her as she stood up to go and get ready. Tiptoe eyed her, obviously wondering why some of her petting had stopped.
In response to her mother’s question, Colby flopped herself down across the bed, legs dangling over the side. “Ugh. Not today.”
Tiptoe rolled over, tail in the air, eyes wide, because now all of the petting had stopped, and she definitely did not like that. Not one bit. Darcy kind of felt sorry for her but she was more concerned with why Colby was having a sudden change of heart about hanging out with her new friend.
“Did something happen between you and Audrey?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Colby shook her head, staring up at the ceiling where she’d put glow-in-the-dark sticker stars. “Audrey’s great. We like the same things, we listen to the same music, we both want to grow up and become doctors. We have a great time together. It’s just…”
Darcy thought maybe she knew where this was going. “Her brother?”
The look on Colby’s face more than confirmed Darcy’s guess. “I mean, why does there have to be boys, anyway? Why can’t the whole world be women and then everyone could be happy?”
Oh, wow. That was a multi-tiered question full of snags and pitfalls, for sure. Colby might not be ready to hear the whole explanation on that one.
At least, not for another few years. “I think boys have their virtues. Their good points, I mean. Like your father. I definitely wouldn’t want him to be a girl.”
Especially, she added silently, not after last night…
“Well, sure,” Colby said, bringing her mother’s attention back to the conversation. “Dad is a guy, and he’s awesome, and I wouldn’t want him to change at all. That doesn’t mean that all guys are like that. Especially brothers. I love Zane I really do and he’s fine and all, too, I guess. But sometimes I just want to hang around my friend without Tony—that’s Audrey’s brother—having to mess things up. So… yeah. I think I’m going to skip going over to her house today.”
Darcy could understand that. “Okay. I can bring you over to the bookstore with me and Zane. How about that?”
“Um.” Colby sat up again, reaching over to pet a grateful Tiptoe again. “Actually, if it’s okay, I was thinking maybe I could just stay here? I’m twelve, and I’m old enough to stay by myself.”
It took a second for Darcy to process that. They’d left Colby alone by herself for a few hours before, sure, but never for too long. She was a very grown up twelve-year-old, though, and… well, yeah. Darcy believed she could handle having a day to herself. Besides, the bookstore wasn’t too far away so if anything did happen Darcy could be right back here in a matter of a few minutes.
“You could even leave Zane with me, if you wanted,” Colby added, trying to sweeten the deal for her mother. “I mean, I’ll watch him and Cha Cha and Tiptoe so you don’t have to. We could make it a regular thing, if you wanted.”
What a little negotiator her daughter was turning out to be. Well, well, well. She and Jon had been talking about getting a babysitter, and some babysitters started around Colby’s age anyway, so why not?
“How about we see how it goes today,” Darcy suggested. “Trial basis. You and Zane hanging out for the day. No wild parties, hear me?”
Colby grinned from ear to ear. “Nope. Just lots of television and maybe a game of frisbee in the yard. Cha Cha loves that.”
Tiptoe snuffled a breath and stretched. She wanted nothing to do with frisbee tossing. Staying right where she was, all day, with people treating her like royalty was all she wanted. Darcy laughed, wishing she could have the life of a cat.