“Okay. Let’s think about this rationally. Chronologically, where are we? Which premonition is supposed to happen first?”
“I don’t know. I guess you would go first, because I saw myself at your funeral. When I saw mine, you weren’t there, but…” She raked a hand through her hair. “I’m frustrated to no end. I don’t know which way is up anymore, and I…”
“Is this what your life is like? Are you constantly seeing people’s deaths?” He couldn’t imagine living with this kind of ability. It would have driven him insane a long time ago.
“I’ve seen one other death. Just one. I don’t know why I’m seeing so much now. Before all this started, I could go weeks without having a premonition, and the ones I did have—aside from Courtney’s death—were happy or at least easy to solve.”
She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “All I know is that my visions show me what will happen if things continue on the track they’re running. I thought by us being apart that I could change it. That we could avoid the death the universe is predicting. But all it’s done is added my own death to the formula.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, rolling her words around in his mind. “Our being together must not be the track that needs changing.”
“Ugh.” She flopped onto her back. “What are we going to do?”
His heart warmed at her words. Sure, they were discussing both of their impending deaths, but they were doing it together.
She rolled onto her side to face him again. “Why are you smiling?”
“You said ‘we.’” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “‘What are we going to do?’ I think that in itself is a start, don’t you?”
She smiled. “Yes, it is. So, what are we going to do? I hope you have some ideas, because I’m stumped.”
“What’s changed in the past week?” He sucked in a breath. “I know. We moved the haunted Mardi Gras sculpture out of the museum and into your krewe’s warehouse. Do you think it could be related to that? The activity here hasn’t stopped, so maybe Bernadette isn’t physically attached to it. Maybe she’s angry with you?”
“It’s possible. I can ask Sean to come to the warehouse and talk to the ghost again. I’ll have to sneak him in, because our floats are top secret until the parade.”
“Which is only two days away.”
“Jeez, you’re right. Where has the time gone?”
“We’ve wasted far too much of it.” He reached for her hip, tracing his fingers along her soft curves.
She rested a hand on his chest. “We sure have. I’ll call him first thing in the morning.”
He gazed into her dark brown eyes, and his chest swelled with hope. They could beat this. Whatever ending the universe had planned for them, they’d chart a new course for their lives and win. “We have a plan now.” He glided his hand up her side and over her shoulder, reveling in the softness of her skin as he slid his fingers into her hair. “We’re doing all we can, so we might as well enjoy the moment.”
“I suppose we are.” She slipped her hand beneath the sheets to grip his dick.
He gasped at the feel of her fingers wrapped around his rock-hard cock. God, he loved this woman.
She grinned. “Seems we’re thinking the same thing.”
He rolled on top of her and made love to her slowly, gently, showing her how much he treasured her. With their needs satiated, he lay on his back, Sydney snuggled into his side, and he drifted into a contented slumber.
Soft morning sunlight filtered into the room, painting the backs of Blake’s eyelids red. He hesitated to open them, fearing last night had been nothing more than a dream, but as his senses awakened, the feel of Sydney’s soft, warm skin on his was unmistakable.
He opened his eyes and kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering on her hair as he wrapped himself up in her feminine scent. She stirred, snuggling deeper into his embrace and letting out a contented sigh.
“I like waking up with you.” She brushed her lips to his chest before lifting her head and smiling at him sleepily.
“It’s something I’d like to get used to.”
“Me too.” She traced a finger from his nose to his lips, tugging the bottom one down before leaning in for a quick kiss. “You’re on the guest list for my krewe’s masquerade, if you’re interested.”
He arched a brow. “Am I?”
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
“Are you asking me to be your date?”
“I am.”
“Hmm…” He feigned deep thought. Hell yes, he wanted to go to the ball with her. He’d have given anything to undo the mess their relationship devolved into when he missed the first one. This was his do-over. His second chance.
She drew a shoulder toward her ear. “I should have asked you sooner, but I was busy being an idiot. If it’s too weird…”
“As long as you promise not to dump me before it happens, I would love to be your date to the masquerade.”
She pulled back, looking him square in the eyes. “I have no plans of dumping you ever again. I promise.”
Not a shred of doubt entered his mind. Sydney was finally his, and he could have leapt to his feet and bounced on the bed with excitement. Instead, he simply smiled. “Okay then. What are we going to wear?”
She grinned. “The theme is Wonderland.”
“How perfect.” The doorbell chimed, and he glanced at the clock. Eight a.m. “Who the hell?”
Sydney sat up, and the sheet fell away from her body, exposing her breasts and the delicate curve of her waist. Her hair was mussed on one side, and she had a crease across her cheek from the fabric of the pillowcase. She was the sexiest woman alive. “Were you expecting any deliveries at the museum?”
Blood rushed to his groin, and every fiber of his being urged him to tug her down and make love to her again. To hell with whoever was at the door. They could come back later. “Not that I recall.”
The bell rang again, followed by three knocks. Oh, for Christ’s sake. He rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “Let me go see what they want.” He leaned down and kissed her temple. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
He hurried down the steps, mentally willing his hard-on to retreat, as the bell sounded again. Someone was about to get an eyeful. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
As he opened the door, he found Claire standing on the steps, reaching one arm across her body to clutch her purse strap on her shoulder. She’d cleaned herself up and applied a coat of makeup, the redness in her eyes the only indication of the hangover she was surely battling.
“Hey.” She lowered her gaze as a blush spread across her cheeks. “Did I wake you?”
His dick instantly deflated. “It’s okay. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. Can I come in?” She moved forward, but he leaned against the jamb, blocking the entrance.
“Now’s not a good time.”
She stepped back, nodding. “I understand. I just…I wanted to apologize for last night.”
He let out a dry laugh and crossed his arms against the chill in the morning air. “Do you remember last night?”
“Unfortunately, I do. I don’t know what I was thinking, and I want you to know I would never… I mean… I know where I stand with you, so it won’t happen again.” She cast her gaze to the sidewalk and then blinked up at him.
Her eyes held regret, and her apology seemed sincere. He uncrossed his arms. “Thank you. I won’t mention it again if you won’t.”
“I…” She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as footsteps sounded behind him.
“Hi, Claire. How are you?” Sydney reached the bottom step and stood next to Blake, resting a hand on his bare back.
The contrast of her warm palm against his air-chilled skin gave him goose bumps and tightened his nipples. Why hadn’t he put on a shirt?
Claire swallowed, her gaze bouncing between Sydney and him, her eyes calculating as she assessed the si
tuation. “I didn’t know you two were back together.”
He wrapped an arm around Sydney. “We are.”
She leaned into him, resting her hand on his chest, claiming him. “For good this time.”
Claire’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Umm… I didn’t…” Her brow furrowed for a moment before she beamed a smile. “Good for you. Does this mean you figured out your vision?”
“No, but we’re going to work on it together from now on,” Sydney said.
“Great.” Claire’s smile widened, her entire demeanor shifting as if last night and this morning’s awkward apology never happened. “Well, I can’t wait to see the parade tomorrow. I’m sure it will be magnificent.”
“I know it’s last minute,” Sydney said, “but you’re on the guest list for my krewe’s masquerade. The theme is Wonderland. If you can put together a costume in time, I’d love for you to come. Jason, Eric, and Trish will be there too.”
Claire’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “Really? I’m invited to a real live New Orleans masquerade?”
Sydney laughed. “What do you say?”
“Yes!” Claire bounced on her toes. “Thank you!” Her smile faded. “I don’t know if Blake told you what happened before you got here last night.”
“He told me.” She slid her hand from his back to his side, tugging him harder against her body.
“I’m really sorry. I was so drunk, and I…”
“It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” She wrapped her other arm around him, linking her fingers at his hip, as if saying he’s mine now; hands off. “Forgiveness is the best gift you can give someone.”
His body warmed, and his lips tugged into a smile. The way Sydney could be kind to Claire with her words while standing her ground with her body language amazed him. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do?
“Thank you.” Claire nodded toward the museum entrance. “Looks like your resident crow won’t be bothering you anymore. Anyway, I’m going to call my mom and beg for a costume. See you guys tomorrow.”
Blake stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk, cringing at the feel of the cold concrete on his bare feet as Claire strode away. The crow lay on its side, its neck bent at an unnatural angle, the light in its eyes gone.
Sydney gripped his arm. “Did you call the exterminator already? Maybe it ate some poison.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t called yet. It looks like its neck is broken.”
“Maybe it flew into the wall? Can you read its energy to see what happened to it?”
“I can only read energy absorbed by inanimate objects. Living things make their own, and I can’t access that.” His stomach sank. “Claire mentioned crows are bad omens. What does it mean when one dies on your doorstep?”
She slipped her hand into his, tightening her grip as she stared at the animal. “I have no idea.”
Chapter Eighteen
Leaning her hip against the horizontal bar latching the door, Sydney shoved it open and inched into the warehouse. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she fumbled for the light switch, her breath coming out in a rush when the fluorescent bulbs flickered on, flooding the enormous room in yellow light.
She’d been investigating the paranormal for the last six years, and while a few spirits had managed to get her blood pumping a time or two, she’d never been terrified for her life.
Until now.
Her vision of her own funeral had shaken her, but Blake had soothed her frazzled nerves with his promise to stay by her side and help her figure it all out. She took solace in the fact that she didn’t have to bear the burden alone anymore, but the thought that this ghost, whom she hadn’t heard a peep from since she moved her out of the museum, could be responsible for both their untimely deaths was unnerving.
She’d been seeing Blake’s death until they moved the sculpture to the warehouse, adding it to the float for the parade. With the ghost away from Blake and closer to Sydney, and now the vision changing to her own death, the pieces of the puzzle were finally starting to click.
“Wow.” Sean’s voice made her jump. “I’m honored to have the chance to see all this before it rolls. It’s magnificent.”
“Yeah.” Her voice trembled, so she cleared her throat. “We’ve outdone ourselves this year. It’s going to be our best one yet…if I live long enough to see it.” She jerked her head, motioning in the direction of the float, and strode through the warehouse.
“We’re going to take care of you.” Sean followed close behind. “If the ghost shows any signs of violence, I’ll carry the sculpture out of here myself and dump it in the river.”
As she turned the corner and her float came into view, the blood drained from her head to her feet. A giant yellow flower situated next to the artifact had toppled over, the petals separated from the stem and strewn about the trailer.
Sydney’s hands curled into fists as she marched toward the float and climbed the short ladder to reach the platform. This float was her baby. She’d spent a month designing it, taken countless inspection trips to the warehouse when the artists were creating it, and worked her ass off on the presentation that would light up the spectators’ phones as they scanned the giant QR code. Dangerous spirit or not, nobody messed with her baby.
“Listen to me, Bernadette,” she growled the ghost’s name. “I’m doing you a favor by bringing this half-finished, antiquated piece of faux art on my float. You have no right to destroy my creation.” She shook her finger at the sculpture as if it were the spirit herself.
“Cool it, Syd.” Sean climbed the ladder and picked up a petal. “I’ll help you put it back together, but if you want me to talk to the ghost, you need to stop scaring her off. I can’t sense her.”
Sydney clenched her teeth, swallowing the bile in the back of her throat. What if she—or one of her krewe members—had been here when the ghost went poltergeist on the float? Someone could have been hurt.
Or killed.
Her heart sank into her stomach. “Here I was, trying to do something nice for a dead lady, and she’s going to kill me for it. So much for the ghost not being dangerous.” She dropped onto a bench, leaning her elbows on her knees. “We have to get this thing out of here. I’ll call Jason and see if he’ll bring his truck.”
“Wait.” Sean held up a hand, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “Calm down. You’re going to use up all your energy before you tell me what you have to say.” He stared straight in front of him, but Sydney couldn’t see anything except her destroyed float.
“Is it Bernadette?” Coldness crept toward her, making her arm hairs stand on end, a classic sign of a spirit trying to manifest. She tugged her phone from her pocket and turned on the audio recorder, setting the device on the bench and watching Sean expectantly. With any luck, she could catch some of the ghost’s words on the device.
Sean’s brow furrowed, and he nodded his head. “I believe you, but you’ve got to calm down. Take a minute to gather your strength. I’m not going anywhere.” He blinked. “She’s gone.”
“What did she say?” Sydney didn’t wait for an answer. She clicked play on her phone and turned the volume full blast. The recording of her own voice echoed in the warehouse, followed by the faint, hollow sound of a woman saying, “Didn’t do it.”
She stopped the playback and crossed her arms. “Well, if she didn’t do it… Oh no.” Damon.
Sean sank onto the bench next to her. “She was frantic when she appeared. She said, ‘It wasn’t me. Someone. A mask. I didn’t do it.’”
Aside from knocking the box cutter to the floor when Claire accused her of planning Blake’s murder, Bernadette hadn’t shown any signs of violence. It didn’t make sense for her to destroy the float the day before the parade she’d waited decades for. “A ghost didn’t do this.”
“I’m not sensing any hostility from her. Just panic.”
The overhead lights flickered as the ghost drew in more energy to manifest, and Sydney glanced at the float
behind hers. A nine of hearts playing card that should have been upright lay flat on its face, a huge crack running through the papier mâché on its back.
Rising to her feet, Sydney scanned the other floats near hers. Two others had broken pieces, while another sported four flat tires. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She jumped to the ground and inspected the other floats from one end of the hall to the other. Seven in total had been damaged. “There’s no way a ghost did all this.”
But surely Damon and his krewe wouldn’t stoop this low. They could have hurt someone. Nausea churned in her stomach as she crept through the warehouse toward her float and Sean. Suddenly the shadows stretching across the ground grew ominous, their shapes no longer reflecting the whimsical nature of Wonderland, but a more macabre underworld where danger lurked in the darkness.
Adrenaline coursed through her system, her fight or flight instinct kicking in, making her want to run. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts or that sorry excuse for a krewe. Get a grip, Syd.
“Three men in masks…” Sean’s voice cut through the eerie silence, and she gasped. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He hopped off the float and strode toward her.
“I’m not scared. I’ve merely seen a premonition of my own funeral, and now something has gone poltergeist in my warehouse. Nothing to be frightened of.” A nervous giggle escaped her throat, so she clamped her mouth shut. Stop being absurd.
“Ghosts didn’t do this. Come on.” He motioned toward the back of the warehouse. “Let me show you.”
She followed him past the floats, averting her gaze so the shadows couldn’t take on any more ghoulish shapes.
He stopped in front of a cargo door. “Does it feel colder in here than usual?” He pointed at the floor where the massive rolling door should have met the concrete. Cold winter air flowed in through a gap about a foot and a half high.
“Would you look at that?” She knelt to examine the open door. A block of wood sat wedged in the corner, holding it up. “Now that I think about it, I did notice the temperature difference. I was more concerned with the ghost though, so I didn’t pay attention.”
Love & Omens Page 19
