Ben stared at her intently and she wondered what he hoped to find in her gaze. He rubbed a thumb along her jaw. “You’re you.”
“Uh…yeah.”
“It’s just…you’ve been lost for so long.”
“I know.” Her heart clenched at the relief on his face. God, she had worried him too much. Trapped in her own pain, she’d been unable to reach out to him and only now had she begun to realize how much he had suffered, too. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m sorry I wasn’t—”
“All the bad things are behind us now.”
She smiled sadly. “I don’t think what happened to me will ever be gone from our lives. It’s like trying to throw away your shadow.” She kissed him. “But it’s okay. I’m okay. I think I should go back to therapy. And after that, I want to help others who’ve been through the same thing. I mean, after I get to a place where I can do that.”
Ben hugged her so hard she lost her breath. “I love you, Sarah.”
“Does that mean you think it’s a good idea?” she murmured into his shoulder.
He released her. “Yeah.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
“And what about Dunley? About our…about what we shared with him?”
“I like the way it pleased you.” He smiled. “I liked the way it brought you back to me. If you’re asking if I’m jealous, then yeah, I am. But if you’re asking if I’m going to regret what we did, the answer is no.” His lips brushed her temple. “You’re mine. And just for the record, I have no plans to share you again.”
He tucked her into the covers and in seconds, she felt sleepy. “C’mere.”
“Dunley’s been gone too long. I’m going to check on him.”
“He’s probably downstairs burning the hot chocolate,” she murmured, feeling herself sink deeper into oblivion.
When Ben crept out, she barely heard the click of the door shutting.
* * * * *
The darker floated in the third-floor hallway, thinking. It felt stronger, more in control, alive. Hurting Dunley somehow helped make it that way. In the long mirror that hung in the hallway, it saw how it now formed a shadowy figure. Hands. It needed hands. Legs. Torso. Penis. Yes. It needed a penis. Mouth? It felt lips and tongue and teeth. Every time it thought about what it wanted, what it needed, it got those things.
At the sound of the door creaking open, the darker ceased its attempts to create a solid shape and hid in the shadows.
It watched as Ben slowly shut the door and walked toward the staircase.
Look how Sarah’s husband left her alone again. Just like before…yes, it had watched Ben leave her then, too, and had waited patiently for opportunity.
Just like he would this time.
Hah! The darker was meant to have the woman.
Hovering above the stairs, it followed Ben’s progress. At the top of the second-floor staircase, it watched the man take the first step. It focused on the big bare feet.
Trip! Fall! Die!
Another step. And another.
Frustration welled in the darker. It focused on the feet again.
Trip! Fall! Die!
This time, it heard the crack of an ankle turned wrong, the surprised yelp of pain, and watched, gleeful, as the man rolled down the rest of the stairs and thumped to a stop at the bottom, lying pale and still.
Trip. Fall. Die.
Good.
* * * * *
“How far?” shouted Annie. The roar of the wind and the slap of water against the boat nearly drowned out her words. Crowded into a space meant for two people, the three—four if she counted the ghost—of them hunched together in the tiny space and peered out the windows. The cabin was stifling and hot, but it protected them from the storm.
Captain Dweedy shrugged, his attention on the gauges, and his grip tight on the wheel. “In fair weather, about fifteen minutes.”
“And in foul weather?”
“Don’t know.”
Annie looked out the window and saw nothing but blackness. How the Captain knew his destination much less how far they were from it boggled the mind. “We waited too long.”
“The preparations required time and perfection,” soothed Ti. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll make it.”
Annie took her daughter’s hand and squeezed, taking comfort in the warmth and strength she found there. Again, her gaze sought the dark ahead, hoping to catch some glimmer of land or light. It was like looking into the gaping abyss of hell. If she and Ti did not arrive in time to catch the darker, that’s exactly where Sarah, Ben, and Dunley would be—in hell.
“Is there any way to warn them?” She turned her beseeching gaze to Miranda. Annie knew a lot about the spirit realm, but surely Miranda knew more than she. She’d dwelled in Limbo long enough to figure out some ways around the so-called rules.
“I can’t leave you or Ti. I don’t know why.”
“There is a greater force at work,” said Annie. “We can’t always know our purpose—or the purpose of others.”
“Darkers serve no purpose.” Ti’s gaze burned with anger. “They’re evil.”
“Everything serves a purpose.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t do anything? We should leave those poor souls to their fates?”
“Of course not!” Annie shook her head. “But we must take some comfort in the idea that we will arrive when we are needed—and that everything unfolding is necessary.” Once again, she looked at Miranda. Fate or not, she could not abide the idea Sarah and Ben might get hurt. If only there was a way to tell someone on that island about the terrible danger. If only…
* * * * *
Sarah slept…and dreamed.
It was her wedding day. Under a rose-entwined arbor in a beautiful garden, she spoke vows with Ben. Her parents sat in the first row, tears glittering in their eyes. Birds twittered, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and the sweet scent of roses clung to the air.
The scene melted away.
Now, she stood in the kitchen of the house she loved and stirred the stew she’d made for dinner. This house. This beautiful, wonderful, perfect house. She and Ben had saved years for the down payment. It was the place where they would make babies and live out their dreams of wedded bliss.
The kitchen walls were butter yellow. She’d painted them herself, and put a cheerful rose border at the top. She loved roses. They reminded her of the day she married Ben. The best day of her life…
She hummed, stirring the stew, and thought about Ben.
“Sarah?”
She turned, surprised to see a dainty woman with curly brown hair and warm brown eyes looking at her.
“I’m sorry…do I know you?”
“You’re in danger.”
“What?”
“Tell Ben and Dunley…” The woman whirled around and stared at the wall behind her as if Satan might burst through it. The fear etched on the woman’s face made Sarah’s heart leap.
“What’s wrong? Who’s Dunley? Where’s Ben?” Chills danced along her nape.
“Go, Sarah. Run. Run!”
The terrifying urgency in the woman’s voice made Sarah drop the ladle and sprint toward the back door. She flung it open and ran out, dropping into a cold, black hole. “Help! Help me!”
Everything shifted, changed…
She lay on her bed, her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. Something had awakened her from a deep sleep. A noise. Foreboding crept through her…a deep ugly feeling lodged in her stomach…she removed the covers, her feet touching the floor…there, in the corner, a movement…no, a man…two men…
They pressed her to the bed, ripping at her shirt, grasping at her flesh…
She screamed…and screamed…and screamed…
Sarah awoke, screaming, her throat sore, her eyes blinded by tears. “Ben? Ben!”
Her gaze focused on the room around her. Candles had burned low. The storm still raged. Dunley had not returned. Ben was gone.
/> And something malicious and evil was in the room with her.
She felt its gaze, its hunger. She licked her dry lips and tried to calm her erratic heartbeat. Her first impulse was to run and to hide, but she knew it was futile. What hunted her from the shadows would find her, no matter how fast she ran or how well she hid. She stared at the darkness, waiting…
Chapter Ten
It slithered into the rim of light provided by the dying candles. Human-like, but fuzzy, like a smeared pencil sketch, the only discernable feature was the red glow of its eyes.
“Sarah,” it lisped. “Sssssaaaarrraaahhh…”
She scooted backward until her back smacked against the huge wooden headboard. Her heart pounded fiercely and she felt chilled to the bones. Her hands clenched the comforter and for a moment, she wished she could toss it over her head and make the Boogey Man disappear.
“I want you, Sarah. You were good. So good.”
Were good?
“That night, I shared you. I am generous. But tonight, I have you all to myself. Tonight, you will scream and beg…and bleed.”
Sarah shivered against the cold, against the nausea threatening. Her stomach churned, her mind wild with fright. She remembered those same words, that same expression.
The man stood at the end of her bed, watching her struggle in the too strong grip of the one who held her. “Tonight, you will scream and beg…and bleed.”
Her heart froze.
Impossible. Not him. It couldn’t be him.
The creature shifted, melded, and solidified into the shape of man, but appeared sooty. Except for the eyes. The eyes looked at her with hunger, with malice.
He can touch me. Hurt me.
Its features, though malformed, looked familiar. This…this thing before her, dear God, she knew this tormenter.
“You.” Her voice cracked on the single word. “No. No!”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” It grasped the footboard with ashy fingers. “Me. Hmmm? Remember our games? Such fun.”
“Fuck you.” The words held no courage, no fire. They were whispered, a frantic entreaty, a horrible hope wrapped in false bravery.
“Okay.” It swept toward her, a wave of black, a thick blanket of evil that brought with it the smell of sulfur and the promise of retribution. Throwing the comforter at it, she was surprised to find it tangled in the coverlet.
Sarah wasted no time scrambling out of bed. “Ben! Dunley! Somebody help me!” She ran to the door and wrenched it open, but before she could step out into the hallway, the knob flew out of her hand and the door banged shut.
She grabbed the handle and pulled, her palms aching from the effort.
Then she felt its hands on her, wrenching her away, spiraling her toward the bed. No! She wouldn’t be violated again. What could she do? Her gaze landed on the French doors. If she could make it out to the balcony, she could throw herself over the railing and free herself from the creature—and the world.
Somehow, she found the strength to push her thumbs into the red orbs. Her stomach roiled. It felt like puncturing Jell-O. The demon-man howled and released her, grabbing at its face.
Rolling off the bed, Sarah scrambled to her feet and fled, her only goal to reach the balcony railing.
I’m sorry, Ben. I love you.
* * * * *
When Dunley awoke, he found himself in his ghostly form. The spell was either at its end or had been broken when whatever—or whoever—had hit him. He hovered for a moment, considering his options. Usually when he was finished with one of Annie’s charity cases, he returned to her and she shoved him into the box again. Except this time, she would give the locket to his mother and release him to the Light.
He looked down and saw the wrench. Had Ben, jealous about sharing his wife, followed him to the shed and bopped him with the heavy tool?
“Dunley!”
Whirling, he found Miranda staring at him. “How the hell did you get here?”
“Annie released me.” She held up her hand. “No explanations, not now. Where are Ben and Sarah?”
“How do you—”
“Dunley, where are they?”
Miranda’s urgency made him uneasy. “At the house. What’s going on? Where are Ti and Annie?”
“They’re just making landfall. I couldn’t come to you while you were human. But when you returned to spirit, I finally connected.” She waved at him. “We must check on Sarah and Ben. There’s a darker loose.”
“A darker!” He looked at the wrench again. Suddenly it made sense. “Oh my God.”
They zoomed toward to the resort, two arrows of light in the darkness.
* * * * *
Ti and Annie struggled against the wind and rain, wading through the last three feet of churning water. The Captain rowed the dinghy back to his boat, his yellow slicker the only sliver of color in the roiling black sea.
“The house is dark,” yelled Ti.
“The storm probably blew out the power,” said Annie.
Ti nodded, but she knew the inn had a backup generator and it hadn’t been turned on. Why not?
“Miranda and Dunley can’t offer much protection.” Annie readjusted the black satchel on her shoulder. “We must hurry.”
Carrying her own satchel, Ti followed her mother up the beach, struggling through the wet sand and scratchy grass. The house was a dozen yards away—it might as well have been a million miles. Her heart thudded in dread. If the darker could harm mortals, it could harm spirits. Miranda and Dunley were in just as much trouble as Sarah and Ben.
The resort loomed ahead. She peered at the old Victorian house through the pelting rain. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was empty. Lightning flashed, and for a split second, she thought she saw a pale form lurching across the balcony, and watched as one pale leg was thrust over the railing.
Miranda?
No…not a ghost. A woman.
Ti grabbed her mother’s arm and pointed up. Annie’s gaze skittered to the top of the house. “Oh my God. It’s Sarah.”
“What’s she doing?”
Annie didn’t answer. Instead, she started to run, and so did Ti.
* * * * *
When Ben awoke, he stared through the pale faces of Dunley and a young woman he’d never seen before.
Through their faces?
“Jesus!” He rolled to his feet and almost vomited. His head throbbed to the beats of a thousand drums. He put his hands on his knees and breathed slowly. His right ankle hurt like a bitch, but he could walk on it.
“Are you okay, Ben?” asked Dunley.
“I fell down the stairs.” He slowly straightened. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“It’s a long explanation, but the really short version is that we’re ghosts.”
“That’s impossible! How did you…” His gaze slid toward the girl and he waved his hands. “You know…with me and Sarah?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“I’m Miranda,” the woman said. “Where’s your wife?”
“Upstairs, asleep. I was going to find Dunley and I swear something—” He shook his head then groaned as stars burst behind his eyes. “Shit that hurts. It felt like something knocked me down the stairs.”
“We must check on Sarah,” said Miranda.
Her insistent tone prickled the hairs on his nape. “What’s going on?”
The rattle and bang of the front door bursting open startled Ben. He limped to the edge of the second-floor staircase and watched two drenched woman hurry toward the stairs. “Who the hell are you?”
One woman looked up, her expression grim.
“Annie?”
“Ben! You’re okay. How’s Sarah?”
Ben’s heart tha-thumped and sweat pearled his brow. His mind couldn’t process everything—Dunley was a ghost, Miranda, too, by the looks of it, Annie was here with another woman, both carrying big satchels, and everyone was concerned about Sarah.
The ghosts, or whatever they were, had disappe
ared, and Annie and her friend hurried toward him. Without another word, he hauled ass up the stairs to Room 30 and grabbed at the door handle. It was locked.
“Sarah!” He pounded on the door until his fists stung. “Sarah!”
“Move, Ben.”
Annie sprinkled a yellow powder across the floor and muttered some words. Then she placed her palm out and commanded, “Open!”
The door wrenched off its hinges and flew backward, smacking the back wall so hard, it splintered.
She rushed inside, followed by the younger woman, and Ben followed. What met his gaze was more fantastic than ghosts and magic. Dunley and Miranda sparred with a dark figure that looked like a man with skin made of ashes.
He saw Annie and Ti kneel on the floor and pull items out of their bags. What the hell was going on? Frantic now, and so scared his body trembled, he sought his wife. Where was she? The bed was empty, the door to the bathroom was open and no one was in it, and the room held only the terrible battle.
“Sarah!” He ran to the open French doors, cursing the pain jolting up his leg from his injured ankle. “Sarah?” What had that monster tried to do to his wife? Had she escaped? But if she’d gone down the stairs, she would’ve found him. That left…no! He leaned over the balcony. “Sarah!”
The storm’s frenzy was gone. The rain fell softly now, and the velvet black of the sky peeked through the gray clouds. He looked everywhere, around the balcony, above him, at all angles of the roof, and finally, at the sandy ground three stories below. Tears pricked his eyes. “Sarah!”
“Ben?”
Her voice came from the right. He leaned as far as he could over the railing, and saw her hands grasping the rain gutter that ran under the balcony and along this section of roof. “Hang on, baby! Just hang on!”
“I’m already doing that. Any other swell advice?”
He choked on the laughter. She sounded scared, but strong. Yes, she was strong, his Sarah. He clambered over the railing, his feet sliding on the tiles. “Shit!”
“Be careful!”
“Yes, dear.” He crouched low, slowly stretching onto his belly. He inched toward the gutter, sweating and cursing, until his hands grabbed hers. “Thank God. Are you okay?”
“Almost.”
He slid his arms down on hers, offering his strength, until his hands reached her armpits, and he pulled her up. She grabbed onto his arms and struggled upward, until her knees hit the roof. She slowly turned and sat, watching as he rolled over and did the same.
Two Men and a Lady Page 24
