by Ruby Raine
"Can you help her?" asked Michael, instantly wanting to take back the words because it meant opening up his girlfriend to potential vulnerabilities he wasn't familiar how to help with. But if they were going to have any real chance at a future forever, they needed to start with trusting in each other's magical gifts.
"I think so. It might not be easy, but I've practiced this sort of thing. Turns out, being a vessel is so much more than dead spirits trying to take over my body. Who would have thought?" she tried to play coy, to lighten the mood.
But all Michael could think was, thank God Lucy was still around because at least Emily would have some backup should something go wrong. He frowned—already failing at being the supportive boyfriend. But it wasn't like he had reason not to worry. It wasn't like things around here ever went as expected.
Without realizing it, Michael had been clenching his teeth in worry. Emily rolled her eyes and returned to him, and he tried to let go of the tension.
"Sorry. It's taking some getting used to—this whole you're a supernatural thing."
"I guess it's your turn to be on the other side of the fence and experience what it feels like every time your significant other goes off on a job the other can't help with. Other than research."
He groaned at that. "Then I'm doubly sorry, because this kind of sucks and I'm sorry I put you through this, like, a gazillion times."
"It's worth it, though, right?" Emily asked him.
"It's not always easy, but worth it, most definitely. Yes." And about two seconds later Michael realized he was on the verge of being that old self again. The asshole who'd prefer to keep Emily locked up and safe somewhere, when what she needed what his undying support. If she could watch him jump into danger to do his job, he had to do the same.
"Do what you need to do. Let's help Becky. I'm here for whatever you need from me." And he'd help however possible.
"I'll be doing what we call an intervention—that's when a dead person doesn't realize they're dead and need to understand so they can move on. Basically, instead of a spirit seeking me out as a vessel, I'll be seeking out the spirit myself. I'll talk to her and convince her that she's dead, so she can move on."
"And if you can't?" asked Mack.
"Last resort, let her use me as a vessel so she can witness it with her own eyes. Unfortunately, sometimes it's the only way to make them believe. Albeit a brutal way."
"Isn't that dangerous, though? Letting a spirit take over?" Michael found himself asking.
"It can be, if you're thinking of the big bad wolf, Eva Jordan," Emily retorted hotly. "But it helped you talk to your mother, too," she reminded. "And I'm much better at this now. I know way more than I did before. And I can assure you, Becky Gardiner is nothing like the evil bitch Jordan."
Michael refused to hold back the grin forming on his lips. His Emily was a spitfire, take-no-prisoners when she wanted to be.
"I have more vile nicknames if you'd like to hear a few more," Emily clucked.
"Don't we all," added Mack from across the room. "But you're right. Becky's not Eva. She was a nice woman and I'd like to see her rest in peace."
"Spirits aren't always representative of the life lived," Emily admitted a second later. "Depending on how confused Becky is, her spirit might fight the truth."
"Good God, let's hope not." Michael didn't even want to think about bad shit going down again. And shitballs, even thinking for a minute had them drowning in doubt, and Michael's empathy picked up on it quick. He knew better than to make some silly jinx of a statement like, you've got your mom and aunt as backup, so what could go wrong...
Instead, he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and whispered in her ear.
"I love you. You've got this. If anything does go wrong, we can call in backup. I won't let anything take you away from me again." He cringed. "And that wasn't supposed to come out sounding like a possessive asshole—"
She stopped him with a kiss. "You're way overthinking things. Do I need to start calling you Charlie?" she teased. Michael pushed out a frustrated groan. "And I don't mind that you're possessive. It comes from a good place. Not a selfish one." Okay, perhaps just a little selfish. But she definitely didn't mind it at night and his heart was in the right place. Poor guy was a mess though and it brought them right back into dangerous territory like they suddenly didn't know how to act around each other, and were questioning every move, word, or action.
"Time and honesty, right?" he whispered. "We'll get there."
"You bet we will. Now, though, let's save Becky."
He nodded and backed away, hoping to holy hell this didn't go badly.
CHAPTER 4
"OKAY. HERE WE GO." Emily dragged a chair over next to the metal table and raised her hand to lay it on Becky's bare shoulder like Michael had done. She let the energy of the dead woman's spirit coax her closer. After a minute or so, the connection got stronger and Emily latched on—her next breath and blink, she was no longer sitting in the examination room but rather a dimly lit bedroom.
"Oh now, what's this?" It was Becky sitting up in her bed with tussled black wavy hair and silky pink pajamas with bunnies on them. "This dream gets more messed up by the minute. Wait, I recognize you."
Emily found her tongue frozen for a few seconds, facing the dead Becky a suddenly insurmountable task. She'd been so focused on helping and using her gift, she'd forgotten about the very real and daunting task of telling someone they had died.
How exactly did she go about that?
She maybe should have thought that part through a little before jumping right in.
"Yeah, um—hi," she finally got out. "It's me, Emily. Morgan. You know, from high school. Here on the Isle," she blathered anxiously. "I graduated valedictorian of our class." And I added that part why. Geez. Get a grip! She either remembers you or she doesn't.
"Yeah. Um. I remember you." Becky rolled her eyes like the thought that she'd forget Emily was downright silly. "You know, you shouldn't have been valedictorian by the way."
Okay, this isn't how Emily picture the conversation going. But at least Becky was talking and seemed like her normal self. Hopefully this meant she'd understand her death had happened and accept it and move on. Smooth sailing, right? Because telling someone they died could only go smoothly, right? Not...
"Sorry, I didn't mean to blather. It's just um—nice to see you, Becky. It's been a long time. How are you?" Oh my God! Really? Dumbass question of the night!
"Meh. Same shit, different day. Honestly, though, this is the wackiest dream I've ever had. It's so—real. And bizarre. And you are the last person I'd ever imagine popping up in my dreams. But I was about to read a book, so, I don't know. Stay. Go. Dance around naked. Whatever."
Becky hadn't changed much since high school. She was still the same say whatever came to her head woman she'd always been.
Becky picked up a book she'd been reading as if to ignore the guest visitor in her bedroom, but grumbled in frustration when the page in her book wouldn't turn. She tossed the book down onto the bed and tried to throw off the covers, which refused to budge. But instead of trying again, she simply grunted, like, what-the-hell-ever, and plunked back against her pillow that was propped against the headboard.
"Not having a great night, I take it?" Emily prodded gently. Perhaps she could stir up a memory or realization. Now that she was here in front of Becky, figuring out how to convince the woman she was dead seemed nearly impossible.
"I'm fine. I could get out of bed if I wanted to," she made claim, and then frowned as if to say, stupid ass dream, can I wake up now?
Emily breathed out in determination. She wasn't getting anywhere fast. She needed to get Becky closer to the truth, not beat around the bush. But curses! This was not an easy task.
"Um, Becky, do you remember going to bed last night?"
"Sure, same as every night. Crawl under the covers, read a few pages of a book until I get sleepy. Although, crazy vivid and wacky dreams are
not usually part of my night," she admitted.
"What have you been dreaming about?"
"Long dead relatives and voices I recognize, but can't quite place, talking to me—but I can't really hear them. And super wacky, I swear when I woke up earlier, there was a wooden doorway sitting at the end of my bed. Like, out of nowhere. But it vanished. And then I dreamed of long, dark corridors that seemed to go on and on and on...only to end up right back here in my bed."
Emily got daring and moved over to Becky's bed, sitting down gently on the edge.
"Oh, hey!" Becky lit up with a beady gleam in her eye. "I heard you were dating Michael Howard?"
"Oh, um, yeah. I am."
"What a twat he was back in high school."
"I thought you liked him? You dated him for half of senior year."
"Sure. He was hot. And popular. Could get away with murder with that sexy as sin grin of his. And he was a dang good kisser."
"I'm so glad we're not in high school anymore," Emily grumbled.
"You and me both. Look, he could be a nice guy. But anyone he dated knew damn well he wasn't a permanent fixture, but merely a flavor of the month. Especially once you came along."
"Really?"
"Of course, really. Miss freaking geek goddess of the year. He was irritatingly annoying talking about you all the time. Never understood why the idiot never asked you out. Seems like he straightened out his shit though. So, you know, good for him. I had a much better boyfriend in college. But we broke it off after we graduated, seeing as our paths were just heading in opposite directions."
"Do you miss him?"
"Sure. But we both realized even though we had a good time together, we just weren't meant to be forever."
"But he was nice to you?"
Becky smiled, getting a distant gleam in her eye. "Yeah. He was a great guy. I wished we could have made it work, but as it goes sometimes, life's not always that simple."
"Boy, don't I know it."
"Anyway, when it comes to men on this Isle, I guess miss perfect smarty pants—I mean you—won." But Becky didn't sound overly bitter about it.
"I never saw it as a competition," Emily argued. "And Michael's not why I'm here," she tried to swerve back to topic. But Becky wasn't done yet.
"You want to know why Michael and I broke up?"
Emily didn't answer right away, thinking at first, yes, but then, hell no and why does it even matter?
Becky smirked. "You want to know. You can't hide the curiosity in your eyes."
Emily sighed in surrender. Perhaps somehow, this would help Becky understand she was dead. Although, exactly how, she hadn't a damn clue. Okay, so yeah, she kind of wanted to hear why Becky had broken up with Michael.
"So, why did you break up?"
"I wanted more. I was old enough to see that I deserved more. But I'd never get it from him, I knew that wasn't possible after the whole breaking into the principal's office and changing his grades debacle. That pretty much put the nail on the coffin." She rolled her eyes like Emily would know what she was talking about. But Emily shrugged, not having any idea.
"I know Michael pretty well. I can't imagine him cheating like that. Or taking a chance at getting caught. And he was smart! He didn't need to cheat," Emily defended.
Becky eyed her, hard and inquisitive, and then her eyes widened, and she laughed.
"Oh my God. You don't actually know, do you?"
"Know what?"
"He didn't make his grades better. He couldn't have made them any better. He was such a closet geek. He lowered his grades. And guess who jumped ahead of him as valedictorian?" Becky added with a hint of jealousy. "Not like I was even in the running..." she added with an I'm over it shrug.
Emily didn't have to ask for the answer because she knew it. She'd graduated valedictorian, with Michael's grades very close behind hers. But in doing so, she'd gotten a scholarship she needed to attend college. And Michael had been absurdly happy that she'd get to fulfill her dream of doing so.
That lovable asshole...she'd never found out and he'd kept the secret all this time. Never even had an inkling he'd done that for her. She always hoped he'd come around and realize he was in love with her, and he had eventually, and even told her how much he wished he hadn't waited so long, repeatedly. Hell, even today!
But it was all the little things she had never witnessed herself that only made her fall in love even more. But he needed to live his own dream too. It wasn't all about being witches and spirit vessels. He had wanted to go away and enroll in classes too, but it hadn't worked out because of being a witch and being needed on the Isle. And he'd basically given his dream to her.
"Well, if you're going to get all dreamy and starry-eyed, go find his bed and leave me to mine, huh?" Becky got herself comfy again, reaching out for the book she'd tossed aside, seemingly frozen open to a certain page.
"Um, Becky, it's been fun reminiscing with you," stated Emily, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "But we need to talk." She watched the dead girl attempt to turn the page in her book with no success, and Emily's heart sank swiftly, swirling around in her gut.
This was going to be hard. Maybe the hardest thing she'd ever had to tell someone. Even harder than when she'd run away from the Isle and run out on Michael and broken him and made him question his entire self-worth.
Shit.
How the hell did you tell someone their life was over?
"Stupid book," Becky spat out in frustration. "Wasn't really into it anyway." She tossed it again and stared expectantly at Emily.
"Becky, you are, um..." damn, the words wouldn't come. "Let's go at this another way. Back to last night. You remember going to bed, right?"
"I think we've established this," she retorted.
"At any point did you wake up? Have to pee? Get thirsty? Maybe, didn't feel so good?"
Becky wrinkled her brow and shook her head. "Nope. Slept right through the night. Although, I'm kind of over it now and would like this wacked out annoying dream to end." Her eyes grazed the still darkened windows and her brow quirked as if she was wondering why it wasn't light out yet.
"Okay, um, this is hard to explain Becky, but you're not sleeping. Those windows are never going to light up with a sunrise. This dream, though, it can end—because it's not a real dream. Something happened to you last night."
"Like what? I mean, look at me, I'm fine."
"Then why can't you turn the pages of your book?" It was time to get down to it.
Becky kicked at the book. "I'm having a stress dream. New job starts soon," she argued. "Stress comes out in dreams in wacky ways. I'm sure I'll wake up any minute now and forget all about it."
"Okay, try to get out of your bed?" suggested Emily, sliding off the bed and back to her feet.
"I've tried," Becky pushed out. "I can't." But she waved her hand around as if to remind Emily it was all a wacky dream and not real.
"Becky, you've lived on The Demon Isle all your life, right?"
"Well, duh."
"But being from here, you must be aware that this place isn't like other places? Like with all the rumors of witches and magic and things."
Becky laughed. "Well, duh, again! Be an idiot to live here and not know it existed. And how do you think Michael changed his grades? He used magic, of course! That's when I knew I had to break up with him. If he was willing to chance using magic or get caught changing your grades, I had no chance of winning over his heart."
"And we're veering off track again. Becky," she got the dead woman's attention. "I need you to hear my next words. Like, really hear me, okay?"
Becky frowned but nodded in an I'm bored manner.
Emily let her eyes find Becky's, so she'd see the truth as she spoke.
"I can speak with the dead." Emily eyed the deceased woman with knowing intent.
"Well, um, good for you. What do you want? A party?"
"Not so much really. Especially tonight," Emily let out desperately. Telling someone they were dead wa
s so much harder than she'd anticipated. And the truth was seeping out of Emily's pores and filling up the room with a terrifying chill as the distress in the Spirit Vessel's features gave Becky a shudder and momentarily took away her ability to form words.
The cold and bitter truth was right in front of her and starting to sink in.
Emily scooted back onto the bed and grabbed Becky's cool hand.
"I'm so sorry, Becky. This can't be easy to hear. I can't even fathom someone telling me this. But—you died last night."
"I'm still right here."
"In a bed you can't get out of with a book that's pages won't turn and windows that are forever dark..."
"It's—it's not possible. I felt perfectly fine when I went to bed."
"You died in your sleep. We're not sure why yet."
Becky pulled her hands out of Emily's grip and backed away as much as the imprisoning bed would allow.
"I'm not dead. That's just—no. I'm only twenty-four for Christ's sake! People don't just die in their sleep at twenty-fucking-four!"
"You're right, it's not normal. But it did happen. I wish I could tell you otherwise." Emily shook her head and sighed. "Do you remember anything at all about last night?"
"Stop asking me about this." Becky glared upward as if talking to an invisible no one. "I'm quite ready to wake the hell up now." She spun her glare at Emily. "This dream and you can fuck right the hell off."
"I can prove it to you."
It was all too apparent that Becky was fighting the truth and would need to see it with her own eyes.
"And exactly how are you going to prove to me I'm dead? If I was dead, we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation."
"I'm sorry, Becky. I truly am. But I am going to prove it to you because you need to understand. You can't stay stuck in this bed or this dream, forever."
Becky's glare turned inward, an inkling of the truth wading there, but her spirit fighting it.
Emily took a breath and explained what she was and that she'd basically be letting Becky use her as a meatsuit, so she could be back in the world of the living long enough to confirm the truth. To which Becky replied with a haughty snort. But before she argued the point, Emily opened her heart and mind drawing in Becky's spirit into her own body, a moment later, eyes opening in the chair in the examination room.