by Keri Arthur
“Why?” I rose and reached across the table to touch her forehead. “I can’t feel a temperature or anything, so you’re not sick.”
She laughed and knocked my hand away. “I really do like him, but I just don’t want to be jumping into anything feet first. This time around, I want to be friends first, bedmates later.”
Suggesting that despite her protestations, her split with Zak had affected her more than she’d let on. “I still can’t remember seeing him in the café.”
“Think six-five, dark hair, neat beard, and the most amazing green eyes you’ve ever seen.”
I clicked my fingers. “The French-sounding guy with the sexy voice.”
“The very one.” She grinned. “I think that man could make me come just by reading the newspaper out loud.”
“Experience talking there, I take it?”
She grinned again but didn't elaborate. “I’ll probably see him at the gym again tomorrow night, so I’ll ask him then.”
“Good.” I pushed away my plate and picked up my coffee. “Of course, the other major problem is the two damn spirits.”
“Yes.” Belle wrinkled her nose. “There must be some way to stop them outside ensnaring and banishing them with a spell.”
“If there is, there’s apparently no damn record of it.”
“That anyone has uncovered thus far. Doesn’t mean it’s not there, just that it’s kept in some obscure manual or note.”
“Very obscure.” I drank some coffee and shuddered a little at the taste. I’d forgotten to put sugar in it. “You know, Ashworth suggested we store the soucouyant’s skin in brine to counter any attempt by her to regain it, which makes me wonder if it would also be a good weapon against her.”
“Possibly,” Belle said. “Salt’s been used to both purify and sanctify places—and ward off evil—for eons.”
“And if we combine it with holy water, we might just have a workable weapon.”
“One that will at least weaken them even if it doesn’t kill them.” She clicked her coffee cup against mine. “Good thinking there, Sherlock.”
“I think Sherlock would be highly offended by your gifting his name to an investigator as amateurish and haphazard as me.” I stirred sugar into my coffee and took another sip. “We’ll need a quick and easy means of applying the brine—”
“Water pistols,” Belle said. “Easy to get and easy to use.”
“I’m not sure a water pistol will hold enough water to damage a fire spirit.”
“A Super Soaker, then.” She paused. “Of course, there’s also the problem of acquiring enough holy water to fill it.”
“It might be worth talking to the local priest—if we explain the situation, he might be willing to bless a large amount.”
“Worth a shot.” She glanced at her watch and then downed the rest of her coffee. “If I go out early, I can be back before the brigade gets here.”
“You might as well go talk to the priest while you’re out. Penny and I will be able to handle things even if there is a rush.” Belle had certainly held the fort down often enough—time for me to carry some of the load for a change.
“Great.” She bounced up. “I’ll go get ready.”
I nodded and finished my coffee, then cleared the plates and got everything ready for the day’s trade.
We were busy from the get-go, but Belle was back by the time the brigade came in. Mrs. Potts tried a number of times to question me not only about the murder of her neighbor but how my relationship with Aiden was going. I didn’t give her much on either, but couldn’t get angry at her nosiness. Not when she actually had my best interests at heart—at least when it came to my relationship with the ranger.
Aiden came in just as we’d finished cleaning up for the day. He tugged me into his arms and kissed me with all the hunger and desire a woman could want, then pulled back and licked his lips. “You’ve been eating brownie.”
“I was just taste-testing the latest batch.”
“Meaning I’ve timed my arrival just right?”
“It would appear so.” Belle came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of brownie slices. “Would you like a coffee to go with it?”
“Please.”
He walked over to our usual table and slid out a chair. I followed him across and snared the biggest piece of brownie before he could. “How goes the soucouyant hunt?”
He grimaced. “Not well.”
“Couldn’t Monty replicate the tracking spell?”
“He did, but it appears that by salting the soucouyant’s skin, we severed her connection with it.”
“Ah. Bugger.” I sat down beside him, my thigh lightly brushing his. “Has he come up with anything else?”
“As yet, no. But he was talking to some professor up in Canberra when I left, so there’s still hope we might yet get some definitive information on these things.”
I bit into the brownie, well aware that he was watching me. Watching and enjoying. I chewed the delicious gooey slice for several seconds, then said, “Have you finished for the day?”
“No, unfortunately.” There was a decided huskiness to his voice, and my hormones danced in delight. “I’m actually here for business rather than pleasure.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Indeed.” He glanced up as Belle walked over, three coffee mugs in hand. “Thanks for that.”
She nodded and sat down opposite us. “What about the skinning murders? Any progress on that?”
“No, but they’re why I’m here. I wanted to follow up on Liz’s premonition about the Greenhill skinning.” He picked up a piece of brownie and demolished it in short order.
Belle glanced at me. “You didn’t tell me about that one.”
I grimaced. “Because it wasn’t a premonition, more a feeling that something about the timing of that particular murder was off.”
“Huh.” She snared a slice as Aiden went in for a second one. “In what way?”
“The fact that it was done during the day rather than night or the near morning, as all the others.”
“Is it possible the farmer walked in on her?”
“That’s what I’m thinking—and why I’d like you to come along,” I said. “If his death wasn’t destined, we might be able to question his ghost.”
“He might not be able to tell us anything—it really just depends on how he died.”
I nodded. “Still worth a shot.”
“Yes.” She licked the chocolate off her fingers then picked up her coffee and rose. “I’ll go grab our gear.”
As she left, Aiden said, “So, tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing my lips. “What about it?”
“We need to finish our Lord of the Rings marathon.”
“It’s hardly a marathon when there’s a couple of days between the two,” I said. “And given the length of that movie, I find myself unable to commit to such a venture when I have to work the next morning.”
“What about dinner then? Perhaps a little dancing afterward?”
My smile grew. “Only if dancing is a euphemism for hot monkey sex.”
He laughed. The warm sound sent a shiver of delight down my spine. “I actually did mean dancing but more than happy to do the hot monkey sex thing as well.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Considering that whole exploding possibility you were mentioning earlier, why on earth would you want to go out dancing? I didn’t figure you’d be the type to enjoy a venue like Émigré.”
“I’m not—I’m more your ballroom type of guy. Used to do a lot of it when I was younger.”
With the wolf who’d broken his heart, if the shadow that briefly crossed his eyes was anything to go by. “I didn’t know ballroom dancing was big around these parts—or that werewolves were even into that sort of thing. It’s rather old-fashioned and straitlaced, isn’t it?”
“You’ve obviously never indulged in ballroom dancing,” he said. “It can be very erotic done right.”
�
�I think it’s fairly safe to say that I’ve never done it right, then.”
“I think it’s safe to say that she has three left feet and has seriously injured the toes of anyone who has tried to teach her,” Belle said, as she came out of the reading room. “And I’m speaking from experience there.”
“Then I’ll just have to risk bruised and battered feet,” Aiden replied. “Because we can’t sit around all weekend just watching movies and having hot monkey sex.”
“We can’t?” I let my expression fall. “Just so you know, this is my disappointed face.”
He laughed, threw an arm around my shoulder, and hugged me. “It is possible to do all three things—or four, if we include feeding ourselves at some point.”
“Good idea to add the food,” Belle commented. “She gets very grumpy if she’s not appropriately fed.”
“‘Appropriately’ meaning chocolate?”
I gently patted his knee. “Keep thinking like that, and we won’t ever have any problems.”
Aiden snorted. “Considering the flashes of temper I’ve seen of late, I’m doubting that.”
“You just need to stop going all macho on me.” I drained my coffee then rose. “I do know what I’m doing.”
Most of the time, anyway, Belle all but drawled.
I grinned and didn’t deny it. Aiden picked up another piece of brownie and then stood. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a werewolf. Macho protectiveness comes with the territory.”
“Then expect a few more of those temper flashes, Ranger,” Belle said, amusement evident. “Where have you parked?”
“Out the front, just down the road.” He spun on his heel and led the way out of the café.
It took us just over an hour to get to Greenhill. Aiden slowed as he approached the small intersection that was basically the entirety of the town, and turned left after the pub. We drove for about a mile and then turned into a graveled, tree-lined driveway that swept up a long hill. The house—a white weatherboard with a tin roof that had seen better days—sat three-quarters of the way up the hill, but we didn’t stop, driving on through a couple of farm gates until we came to a massive old barn. One half of it was open on three sides, and stacked to the brim with hay. The other half was fully enclosed.
Aiden stopped near the hay and climbed out. “We found the body in the shed.”
“I couldn’t imagine a soucouyant hiding out with the hay.” My voice was dry. “To say that would not end well would be an understatement.”
“It would have been better the hay than the man.” Aiden led us around to the other side of the barn. “It was his poor wife who discovered him.”
“Is she okay?” I asked.
He half shrugged. “Unknown. She had a heart attack not long after she called us in, and is currently in a coma. The docs don’t know when or if she’ll recover.”
I didn’t say anything, because there was really no point. I didn’t know the family, but even if I did, I knew from experience that all the “sorries” in the world didn’t make a blind bit of difference.
We turned the barn’s corner and walked up to the old wooden doors that dominated the center of this section. Aiden pushed one of them open, then ducked under the police tape and disappeared inside. We followed.
Almost instantly, energy hit us.
And while some of it was simply the lingering heat of the soucouyant’s presence, the majority wasn’t.
There was a ghost here.
And it was in an almighty snit.
Nine
Belle sucked in a deep breath. “Well, he’s not happy, is he?”
Aiden glanced around sharply. “Baker’s ghost is here?”
“Hell yeah.” Belle glanced at me. “A protection circle is called for, I think. I can’t feel any magic here, but his anger is fierce and he might well attack.”
She unzipped the backpack and handed me the spell stones. I walked past Aiden until I found a nice open area between the various farm machines and other bits of equipment, and then quickly set up a protection circle. Baker’s fury continued to burn around us, and it was bad enough that sweat was now rolling down my spine.
“Why is he so angry at us?” I said. “We didn’t kill him.”
“I’m not sure he realizes he’s dead.” Belle stepped into the circle and sat down opposite me. “There have been some instances where there’s a mental disconnect between the ghost and the body they see lying on the ground. And given that the body here would have been skinless, confusion is not unexpected. Especially if he also saw his body—or a replica of it—walk out the door.”
I grunted and glanced across at Aiden. “I take it you want to record the session?”
He nodded. “His full name is John Baker, by the way.”
As Aiden dug his phone out of his pocket, I took a deep breath to center my energy and then raised a protection circle, lightly layering the threads of the spell onto each stone, until what surrounded us was a glowing weave of red, gold, and silver.
The silver was wild magic. It wasn’t anywhere near this barn and yet here it was. Uneasiness stirred yet again, but I thrust it aside, tied off the last line of the spell, and then activated it.
As the threads glowed brightly, I raised my gaze to Belle. “We’re protected against fits of anger and thrown objects.” Silently, I added, so that our ghost didn’t hear and get ideas, But not really heavy missiles.
He’s only a new ghost, so he shouldn’t have the power to throw anything truly heavy. Most can’t even interact with cutlery at this stage.
She wriggled closer. Once our knees were touching, she took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and gather her energy, and then closed her eyes and placed her fingers in mine. While some spirit talkers used personal items to make contact, or objects such an Ouija board or even a spirit pendulum, Belle had no need. According to my mom—in what had been a rather rare moment of kindness—Belle was one the strongest spirit talkers currently alive.
With our hands lightly touching, I felt the moment she silently summoned John Baker. His anger instantly intensified, but the shimmering walls of my protection spell kept most of it out.
What has happened to me? he all but shouted. Why can’t I leave this place? Where is Elsie? Is she okay?
I’m afraid you were murdered, John—
I repeated both their comments for Aiden’s sake, but kept my attention on Belle.
No, he cut in. I can’t be. I don’t feel dead.
Whether or not you feel it, you are, Belle said gently. Your spirit lingers here not only because you were killed before your time, but also because your anger and sense of unfinished business hold you here.
I’m not dead, he replied stubbornly. I’m not.
Belle didn’t bother arguing. You need to tell me what happened here yesterday.
Yesterday? There was puzzlement in his voice. Nothing happened. It was just a normal day.
A statement that suggested he was blocking the memory—and that really wasn’t surprising given how traumatic his death must have been.
If nothing happened, then why were you so concerned about Elsie? Belle asked.
His anger ebbed as concerned flowed. She came into the barn and screamed. I don’t know why, but she called emergency services and then fell down. I couldn’t wake her. I couldn’t help her. He paused. Is she all right?
Yes. She’s in hospital, but she’s receiving good care.
I need to see her. Why can’t I see her? Why can’t I leave this place?
You can’t leave because of what happened to you, Belle said. I can help you move on, but I can’t get you past the walls of this place and to the hospital. No one can now, John.
His anger surged again; the threads of my magic burned brighter, countering and muting the emotional wave.
That is unacceptable, he growled.
And with that, his spirit moved around my protection circle and raced toward the barn’s doors. He hit them, and bounced back. The interior of this barn
was his prison. He couldn’t move beyond the barn’s walls or doors—not without Belle’s help, and only then to whatever new life fate had decreed his soul be reborn into.
Damn it, let me out. I need to see her.
You can’t help her, Belle said. Not now. But you can stop what has happened to you from happening to others.
I don’t want to help, he growled. I want to see Elsie.
The force of Belle’s magic crept into the connection. She was now compelling him—forcing him to remember what he obviously had no desire to even acknowledge. It was something very few spirit talkers could do.
Tell me what happened yesterday, John.
No. It was sullenly said.
Her pressure increased. What brought you into this barn yesterday, John?
I needed a tractor part. The damn thing was playing up again.
And then what happened.
Fire. He hesitated. I saw fire.
Where?
It was sitting in the corner, all curled up like a ball.
What did you do?
What do you think I did? I grabbed a hose and tried to put it out.
Then what happened?
His energy twisted, turned. Fighting the memories. I don’t know.
Yes, you do, Belle said. I need you to tell me.
Damn it, no!
Yes. Belle’s magic surged a third time. Tell me.
When the water hit it, John said, the thing unfurled and damn if it didn’t look like a woman. I kept spraying it with water, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. She came at me and then... and then.... He stopped, a catch in his mental tones.
And afterward? Belle said gently. What happened after her flames kissed you?
I was standing in the same spot, but there was this red thing at my feet. He hesitated, the crack in his voice increasing. And then I saw myself, walking out the door. But that can’t be possible. How can I still be here and yet have walked out of the barn?
“The soucouyant is wearing his skin?” came Aiden’s abrupt comment.
I glanced at him and nodded. “My phone is in the backpack if you want to put out an APB. But warn your people not to go near him if they spot him.”
