A Haunting Experience

by Kessily Lewel

  He sighed, a touch of dramatics to it. "You're hard on my ego, April."

  She didn't take him seriously, but smiled as she stood in the doorway and watched them go. She could see the angry face of Carson, sitting in the back of the dented silver mini-van, glaring out of the open window at her, so she gave the sulking girl a sarcastic salute. She'd told Jerome she'd give the woman another chance; she’d never said she'd be nice about it.

  Suddenly, she realized something and frowned, "Hey, where's the lawyer?" she called at their retreating backs.

  Jerome turned back, looking embarrassed and hesitant. "He's, uh, in the library." He exchanged a look she couldn't decipher with the professor, who nodded carefully. Jerome trotted back up the steps to talk to April. He kept his voice down and moved in close to her so he couldn't be heard. "He said he needed copies of the footage. Usually, Professor Marlowe gives that directly to the owner, so he told him no. Guy got a little pissed about it. He has authorization to see the data as her proxy but not to take copies, so we had to let him watch. He was being kinda creepy about it. Like, I dunno. Just be careful with him, okay? I'm sure it'll be fine, but—" he trailed off.

  April listened with growing unease. She could tell that he wanted to say more but was stuck in an awkward place. The investigation and the data they were collecting were essential to all of them, so rocking the boat with the owner's legal team could end up messing everything up for them. Over the past week, she'd made friends with Jerome, and she could see a look of concern in his eyes for her. She forced a smile.

  "I'll be fine. He's kind of sleazy, but nothing I can't handle," she assured him.

  He looked relieved at the confidence she'd put into her words. "Yeah, well, sic your ghost on him if he gives you a hard time," he said, only half joking.

  "C'mon, Jer!" Carson yelled from the van. She looked pissed and maybe jealous at how close he was standing to April.

  He sighed and backed up quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, flashing her a slightly worried smile as he jogged back to the minivan and climbed into the driver's seat.

  Chapter 8

  She watched them roll through the gate before she went back in the house. It felt colder inside suddenly, and she rubbed her bare arms briskly to warm them up as she walked down the long hallway. Ten short steps from the library a picture rattled on the wall beside her, and she stopped to look at it. It was daytime, but she'd recently learned that it didn't always matter what time of day it was. Just because things didn't usually happen in the house during the day clearly didn't mean they couldn't.

  She waited, watching for something to happen, but the picture didn't move again. She reached up and nudged it tentatively. The heavy, ornate frame barely shifted under her touch. It seemed to be fastened firmly to the wall, and there was nothing unusual about it. Just an ordinary, though lovely, painting of a still life. Flowers overflowed a copper bowl in shades of fuchsia and blue to spill to the edge of the canvas. She could see her face reflected in the glass that covered it, and her fingertips had left a smudge. She hesitated a moment longer and then turned towards the library, and there was a soft thump as the picture jumped, just once.

  After a few more seconds of nothing happening, she shrugged and went to the library. She poked her head in the door to find Mr. Bruebeker sitting on the edge of the desk, in almost the exact spot Jerome had settled earlier, looking at something on his phone.

  "Hello?" she said softly from the doorway.

  His head jerked up, and he fumbled the phone for a second before standing up and slipping it into his pocket.

  "April," he said, nodding. He looked at his watch impatiently and then turned to the desk, flipping open a manila file. "Took you long enough to get down here. I've been waiting fifteen minutes," he said. His tone sounded slightly aggravated.

  She blinked, wondering what had happened to calling her Ms. Cassidy. He seemed suddenly informal for some reason.

  "Well, I didn't know you were coming until a little while ago. I assume you're just dropping off a check?" she asked. She wondered why he couldn't just leave it and go if he was in such a hurry.

  "I was under the impression Ms. Hagmaier told you I was coming to make changes to the contract?" he said. He tapped a stack of papers on the desk that he'd laid out carefully. "And yes, I have your check, but I need some signatures from you. Here, please," he said, gesturing to her.

  With everything else that had happened during her meeting with the owner, she'd somehow spaced on that little detail, but now that she thought about it, she did vaguely recall something about Charlie coming to fix the contract. She slapped herself lightly on the forehead.

  "Oh, damn it—she did. I'm sorry. I completely forgot about it," she admitted, feeling sheepish. She started to relax, now that his return was so easily explained.

  She moved over to the desk, waiting for him to step aside, but he didn't move, and she was forced to press against him as she leaned over to read the papers he'd spread out. The first was a simple form saying she'd received a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. The check was clipped to the top of it, certified like the last one, and she signed that eagerly.

  "I guess it makes sense to have me sign for it. It's a lot of money," she commented as she scrawled her name and tugged the check loose to look at it. Her eyes kept rolling over the numbers, engraving them in her mind.

  "Yes, well be careful with it. It's certified, and those are a pain to replace," he warned her. She started to straighten, and he put a hand on her back. Frowning, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, but he didn't move his hand. Instead, he flipped that page to the side, face down and tapped the paper under it. "This is the modification to your contract. You'll need to initial and then sign."

  She felt awkward and uncomfortable with him touching her, but she wasn't sure what to say, so she tried to ignore it. She nodded and leaned over to read again. Some changes had been made to allow her to leave the house while in the company of the owner or her legal proxy. The first made sense; Elizabeth wanted to take her out to lunch. The second— Jerome had mentioned the lawyer was Elizabeth's legal proxy.

  "Legal proxy would be you, right?" she asked, clarifying.

  "Yes. You are now allowed to leave the grounds with Ms. Hagmaier or myself during the next three weeks," he replied.

  "But—" She paused, feeling some confusion about why she would ever need to go anywhere with the lawyer. Elizabeth had promised to alter the contract to allow them to go out to a meal together, but that was it. Feeling unsure about how to ask without being rude, she finally settled on blunt. "Why would I need to go any place with you?"

  His tailored suit shifted neatly at the shoulders as he shrugged and then fell back into place perfectly. "While putting in the first part, it occurred to me that in case of emergencies, it would be useful. I don't expect it to be necessary, unless, of course—" He trailed off, and the weight of his hand on her back seemed to grow heavier.

  "Unless what?" she asked, an expression of confusion on her face.

  He tilted his head, a slight smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. "Well, it's not easy being trapped in a house for a month. You're going out to lunch with Ms. Hagmaier; it might remind you of all the things you're missing, trapped in here. If you were to call me, maybe we could arrange something," he said. His voice was deceptively casual, but his eyes were a different story. There was hunger there, and he wasn't bothering to hide it.

  "I, uh. I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Bruebeker," she said politely as she thought to herself that there was no way in hell it was ever going to happen.

  "Do we have to be so formal, April? You can call me Charles, or Chuck, if you prefer," he suggested.

  His hand slid down her back in a gentle caressing motion, and she shuddered.

  She swallowed and dropped her eyes back to the page, quickly initialing a paragraph and signing at the bottom of the page. "Oh, uh thanks—Charles. Sure," she mumbled as she flipped the page over and looked over
the next section. It also required a signature. "Is that it?" she asked coolly as she shifted out from under his hand, moving to put a few inches between them.

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment as he picked up the papers and rifled through them, checking that she'd initialed all the highlighted places and signed at the bottom of each page.

  "Yes, this seems to be in order."

  He slid them back into the folder and put that out of sight in an elegant leather briefcase. He snapped it shut and then turned his attention to her again, letting his eyes rove over her body blatantly.

  She wondered if it was on purpose that he'd strategically placed his back to the camera in the corner of the room. "You sure you're not too lonely in this big house all by yourself? I don't think ghosts and spooks are much company for a living girl," he said in a low voice.

  "I-I'm fine, thank you. You'd be surprised what good company they can be," she said firmly. There was a slight hint of a blush that spread across her cheeks as his smirk broadened.

  "So I've seen." He leaned in close, voice barely a whisper. "I can be rough, April. And I'm alive, which is more than I can say for your dominant ghost. Wouldn't you rather fuck a real man?" he asked, lips almost brushing against her ear.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she backed up so rapidly that she almost fell. "Mr. Bruebeker!"

  "Don't act all innocent, April. What I saw on those tapes isn't innocent. It was a sexy woman needing a man's hand. A real man, not some pathetic memory who should have gone to the other side years ago," he said in a coaxing tone, but under it she could hear a subtle threat.

  "I don't know what you think those tapes mean, but I'd like you to leave now," she said firmly.

  She folded the check and tucked it in her pocket as she moved away from him, towards the door. She stopped in the doorway and waited for him to move. For a minute he just stood there and watched her. The smirk had turned into a menacing sneer, and a little nervous tremor went through her. He was at least a foot taller than she was, and it wouldn't be easy to fight him off, but she had something going for her. She shifted her glance pointedly, staring up at the camera nestled in the corner near the ceiling.

  He followed her look and then quickly picked up the briefcase from the desk. "I'll be on my way then, April. Don't forget to call me if you decide you want to get out for a while," he commented in a pleasant tone as he brushed past her.

  She stayed where she was, listening to the sound of his shoes as they tapped against the parquet flooring. The slam of the front door got her moving, and she hurried over to lock it behind him. Pointlessly, since she knew he had all the keys, but she felt safer with it locked and the safety chain in place.

  She made her way back upstairs, a frown fixed firmly on her face. The lawyer had gone from borderline flirty to outright creepy, and she was stuck there alone. But she suddenly remembered that she wasn't really alone, not in that house.

  "John?" she called softly.

  Immediately he flickered into sight in front of her. Between one second and the next, he was there, a warm reassuring presence, and she threw herself into his arms. He looked startled, his arms automatically wrapping around her and holding her tight.

  "What's wrong, April?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice.

  "I just— Ugh. Nothing. I'm fine. I just got a little creeped out, is all," she mumbled.

  "Creeped out?" He frowned as he tried to decipher the meaning of the phrase. It wasn't the first time they'd run into the problem, but it happened less often than she expected.

  "I got nervous. The lawyer guy who hired me was here, and he was hitting on me. The first time I met him he was very professional right up until the end and then he started to get weird. This time he just— It was worse," she explained.

  Her words were slightly muffled because her face was pressed firmly against his chest, but he understood enough. His body stiffened against her, tense.

  "Did he press you? Threaten you in any way?" John demanded.

  "No, not really; just suggested I might like a living man better. It wasn't what he said, it was more what I felt from him, I guess," she said.

  She'd been hit on before, many times. She'd even had men come on harder than the lawyer had, but she'd felt real malice from him, not just a horny asshole looking to get off.

  "He saw the tapes, and I think they got him riled."

  John's expression, which luckily April couldn't see, looked murderous for a moment. He could feel her body shivering against him and knew she'd been more than just a little nervous. She was a smart girl with good instincts and powers beyond the normal; if she felt fear, there was a reason. The idea of this man watching what had transpired between them didn't please him, either.

  "April, I often let myself drift during the day. Not watching what happens in the house, to give you some freedom and privacy. I wasn't aware of what was happening today, but from now on, I don't want you alone in the house with that man. If he should arrive or if you should ever be in fear for any other reason, you've only to say my name and I'll hear you," he said, pushing her back a step and looking down into her face earnestly. "Do you understand? If you need me for any reason, just call, and I'll come," he repeated.

  She nodded slowly and then burrowed back into his arms as her body finally began to relax. She couldn't remember ever feeling so safe in someone's arms, not since her childhood, anyway.

  "I didn't think of it, honestly. But you know, I don't think he noticed the time on the tapes or maybe he didn't put it together, because I think he's still under the impression that the house is dead during the day," she said thoughtfully. "I remember the first day when he showed me around, he was so anxious to get out before dark that he practically ran for his car. If he knew you were active—"

  "Well, should he try to harm you in any way, he'll find out just how active I am," John said grimly. His arms tightened around her protectively, and his eyes glittered with a dangerous gleam to them, but he said no more about it, and instead began to soothe away her stress. "Come, lie with me," he said, pulling her gently to the bed.

  She looked up, a soft smile on her face. "Yes, that sounds nice, but I'm not ready for another bout of exhibitionist sex, John," she warned him as she clambered up on the high bed. She flopped back against the mound of pillows and let her body sink into the softness as he settled next to her. Lying on his side, he watched her get comfortable. "I love this bed. Do you think she'll leave it and the other furnishings?" April asked. It had never occurred to her to ask if all the things in the house would be staying when (if) the house was signed over to her.

  He chuckled as his hand slid lazily over her thigh, caressing her. "I wouldn't know. But surely all the money you'll have earned by then will be enough to buy you a new bed if she doesn't. We can leave all the other rooms empty so you can spend the whole of it on a glorious bed, and then since there won't be any other furniture, we can just stay in it all of the time," he teased, making her laugh.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said with a snort.

  "Staying here with you? Forever? Yes, I'd like that," he said. He leaned in and brushed his lips across her forehead. "Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more, actually."

  His hand worked its way up to her lower back, pulling her closer to him, and she sighed, melting against his body. Despite her insistence that she wasn't interested in another night of energetic sex on camera, her body pinged in response to his nearness, and she found that her own hands were starting to wander.

  Her panties dampened as she pressed against him. One hand pressed flat against his hard chest while she licked the soft spot at the base of his neck. She'd noticed he seemed to be especially sensitive to that. He growled low in his throat, and his hand came to rest on the seat of her jeans, squeezing her ass possessively through the thick denim.

  "Don't tempt me, darlin'," he whispered lazily.

  His hand slid through her long raven tresses, fingers hooking in the strands so he could use
the grip to tug her head up. His piercing blue eyes stared deep into hers, and her clit throbbed in response.

  But John had his own kind of stubbornness and having heard that she didn't want to be exposed on camera again so soon, took her at her word and gently disengaged, releasing his hold on her hair. He ignored her reluctance for him to move away and sit up, with a knowing laugh as he shook his head

  "You'd regret it if I gave in," he said and he was probably right.

  She knew that, but still. "Yes, but I—"

  She trailed off. She couldn't really deny that she'd end up being embarrassed all over again, and two days in a row was a bit more than she could handle. Especially if she got any more shit from Carson over it. But her hormones had kicked in, and turning them back off wasn't quite as easily done. She'd gone so many years thinking she didn't really care about sex, and now that she'd discovered how enjoyable, it could be she felt like a nympho.

  "Tease," she muttered with a bitter turn to the words.

  That made him laugh again, a loud bark of pure enjoyment. "Perhaps. I have to give you a reason to want to stay, don't I?" he said.

  He smiled wide enough to flash white teeth, and she tilted her head curiously as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

  "John? Don't take this the wrong way but, uh—" She stopped. Was there a way to ask this question that wouldn't sound completely rude? She couldn't think of one. "Your teeth are really nice," she finished awkwardly.

  His eyebrows went up in surprise, and he seemed at a loss for a response at first. "Thank you?"

  "I mean it's just I thought everyone in the old days had horrible teeth, but yours are almost perfect," she mumbled, feeling embarrassed.

  "I think your television gives you interesting ideas about the past that are not always accurate," he said.

  He clenched his teeth together, lifting his lips to give her a better look. They were a little out of alignment, but white and clean. She noticed he was missing one on the side, however.