by Lindsay Mead
"The voices didn't hurt you?" His tone was even, but his eyes gave away his worry.
"No." Reaching around to her back, she pressed on the edges of her bandages, making sure they were still in place. "I don't think they're evil. I think they're desperate."
"That can be a fine line." Ian walked over to close the door, finally daring to near.
Viola watched him press a button on the side panel. The door shut of its own accord, and Ian glanced at her. Their eyes met. He felt close, but not close enough. Memories of his hands on her body, his lips on her mouth, flashed through Vi's mind. Her breath caught—Oh, hell—did they ever have some unfinished business!
Aaron cleared his throat. "So, what did you find?"
Lana pulled off her headphones to listen.
"It's blood money, which I'd suspected." Shutting down her naughty thoughts, Viola crossed her arms and peered at Ian. "Someone was paid a lot of money to kill a lot of people."
"Whoa." Lana gaped at him.
"Well, hold on," Ian rushed out, seeing Aaron shift for his sidearm. "I didn't kill anyone!"
Aaron glowered. "Sin never lies."
"Oh, nice one-liner, priest!" Lana grinned, immediately breaking the unexpected tension. "You belong in an action movie."
"Actually Aaron," Viola interjected. "I think, in this case, the sin might actually be a lie."
At her words, the alertness left Aaron's body and he crossed his legs as if he were intrigued. "What do you mean?"
"Blood money is money that has literally been bound with the souls of those who died for it"—Viola unfolded her arms, gesturing toward Ian—"so, the sin of that deed becomes attached to whoever acquires the money."
Ian's eyebrows shot up and he shook his head. "I don't understand; it's my grandfather's money."
"But you picked it up for him, you accepted charge over it, so you get the sin." His gramps royally screwed him over, but Viola felt that went without saying.
"Fuuuuck," Ian groaned, running a tense hand through his hair. "So, what do we do?"
"We're going to Mexico." Viola rocked on her heels, excited to be returning to an old stomping ground. "The voices gave me a roundabout idea of where this all started, and I think when we get there, I'll know what to do."
"Really?" Aaron closed his bible with interest. "The money came all the way from Mexico?"
"Yeah, it's exchanged a lot of hands. These souls have racked up quite the body count." Vi couldn't help smiling as she thought of all the gang members and assholes who probably had it coming.
Lana inhaled loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "What about Halloween? Handing out candy? Or the Scare Bowl?" She looked at Viola with downturned eyes and her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "We'll miss the party at the farm too, won't we?"
"It would be a shame to skip." Aaron winked at Vi. "You know how much our parents love Lana."
Viola frowned. In all the excitement, she'd completely forgotten about the approaching holiday. Chagrin filled her, eradicating her enthusiasm from a moment ago. Of course, she didn't want to miss Halloween—it was the best freakin' holiday ever! But the longer it took to fix this, the more at risk Ian was.
"I don't know, you guys. We could put this off a few days, but I'm not sure it's morally right to." Biting her lip, Viola glanced from the saddened Lana to the Scotsman. "Ian's soul is about as dark as it can get. If he gives up the ghost right now, he'll be getting a meet-n-greet with Satan himself."
Ian crossed his arms and stared at Viola for a long moment, then a big eager-grin stole away his calm exterior. "I've actually never experienced a proper American Halloween. We don't really do that here."
Lana gasped as if he'd punched a kitten. "That's horrible!"
"I know." Ian nodded mournfully. "I was really deprived."
"Well, if you did die—" Viola laughed. Was she really letting this happen? "It would be a shame if you went out having never gotten sick from candy or alcohol on Halloween."
"Goodie!" Lana clapped.
"I'll have Ailbeart ready the plane"—Ian started down the hall, seeming as giddy as Lana—"And get reservations at the local hotel."
"Don't bother," Aaron shouted after him. "There's no way our parents would ever let anyone stay at a hotel."
"Go pack, kids." Smiling, Vi still couldn't believe they were doing this. And yet, she was pretty damned thrilled about it. "We're going home."
"Awesome," Lana sang, snatching up her photos.
When Ailbeart came to inquire about their desired departure time, Viola requested that very evening. Another night in a Scottish castle would've been awesome—had she not tried to sleep with the owner and then been cockblocked by an angry horde of restless souls. So, if any steamy action or peaceful sleep was in her future, it wasn't going to happen here.
11
In their picturesque hometown, the car turned the final block and Viola's childhood home came into view. It was not a particularly special house, similar to every other in the neighborhood. Built in the forties, the house was two stories with white siding, a large screened-in front porch, and an unattached single-car garage to match.
Viola's mom, Amy, stood in the front yard adding fake headstones to her makeshift graveyard. The one she was currently installing read, I told you I was sick. Ian chuckled as he leaned across Vi to read the others. He smelled of oakmoss, fresh and earthy. As Viola's bones turned to liquid, her mind conjured images of them naked and entangled in a Scottish forest.
"That zombie prisoner is amazing." Ian sat back, taking his yummy scent with him and shocking Viola out of her daydream.
Tugging on the noose of a zombie dangling from their young sycamore tree was Aaron's dad, Ronald. The fake corpse wore a bright yellow prison uniform. Vi briefly wondered at what sort of story her stepdad had concocted for it. As the car rolled to a stop in front of them, both parents peered curiously into the tinted windows.
Ian's driver opened her door as Viola unbuckled her seatbelt. She accepted his offered hand—as strange as that was—and slipped out of the expensive ride. Meeting the gazes of her awesome parents, she beamed. How many months had passed since she'd last been home?
"Viola!" Her mother squealed with excitement.
"Hey, kiddo." Pushing the zombie felon aside, causing it to swing wildly, Ron made his way toward the car.
"Surprise." Viola threw out her arms as the others filed out behind her and the driver began removing the luggage from the trunk. "We decided that we couldn't miss Halloween."
"Well, of course, you couldn't." Amy jumped in front of her husband and wrapped her arms around her daughter.
"And we could certainly use your help with decorations," he said, wiggling between them to get a hug of his own.
"Aaron! Lana! I'm so glad you're here!" Amy left Vi to her stepdad and went to squeeze the others.
"Are you cutting back on decor or something?" Viola peered around him at the sparse decorations.
"Nah. We just haven't had the time." Ron threw an arm around Aaron next. "I've been busy at the garage this month and your mother has been spending her free time volunteering at the church."
"Well, you're quite handsome. Who're you?" Amy exclaimed in her not-so-subtle way of getting Viola to make introductions.
"Goodness, Mom." Vi glanced at Ian apologetically. "This is Ian Grave, a new client of mine."
"Oh, it's nice to meet you," Amy said as Ronald shook Ian's hand. She gazed suspiciously at Viola. "My daughter has never brought a client home before."
"Mr. Grave's problem requires some traveling and he was gracious enough to let us spend a couple days here." Seeing her mom's raised eyebrows, Vi explained further, "Because of Halloween. He's never experienced one before."
"It's a pleasure to meet you both." Ian smiled, causing Amy to inhale abruptly. "You've raised some very interesting kids."
Ron snorted. "Not our fault. You can blame God for that."
"It's not God's fault either, Dad," Aaron lightly chastised.<
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"I hope it's not an intrusion," Ian said to Amy.
She crossed her arms and raised a dangerous eyebrow. "Are you going to help with the decorating?"
"I'm all yours." He held out his hands, showing that they were free to be utilized. "Tell me what to do."
"Then, it's not an intrusion." Ron gestured for him to follow. "Come on, help me get this zombie prison snitch a foot higher."
Ah, there's the back story. The formerly-living prisoner had gotten himself hanged for being a snitch, and it just so happened to be at the dawn of the zombie apocalypse. Viola smirked as they headed toward the white-barked tree.
"Lana, Aaron, there is some spider webbing and some lights on the kitchen table," Amy said, drawing Vi out of her musings. "They're for the bushes and the front porch."
"Got it, Ma," Lana said, using her nickname for Amy.
Ronald and Amy were the closest things Lana ever had to real parents. Lana was only fourteen—and a mess—when she'd approached Viola. Since Vi wasn't keen on being anyone's babysitter, Amy insisted that Lana live with them instead. That lasted for about half a year. Lana loved being with Ron and Amy, but she'd struggled in school. She remained only interested in being an exorcist—and when Viola and Aaron returned from their travels, Lana pestered the living hell out of them. So, Viola caved, and it turned out to be one of her best decisions.
Amy tugged at Viola's shirt to get her attention. "Vi, help me with these gravestones."
As everyone got to work, Lana opened one of the windows on the front porch and placed a radio on the frame. A second later, a DJ announced that they were tuned into the world's number one station for classic Country. Generally, when Lana and Vi listened to music, they preferred Rock. But when they came home, it was Country and Bluegrass all day long. Johnny Cash's, Ring Of Fire warbled on a weak signal across the lawn, setting the mood perfectly.
With the changing leaves of Fall all around them and temperatures unseasonably warm, the afternoon slipped by with a quickness. They completed the creepy graveyard, the prison snitch was raised, and webbing soon covered the whole front of the house along with strings of light-up ghosts. They then stuck silhouettes of witches in every upstairs window while Ron hung a sign on the front door that read, Dead Inside. Finishing the afternoon, they carved pumpkins. This turned out to be the most fun since pumpkin guts were the perfect weapon against bad jokes and playful teasing.
"So, where's your client from?" Her mom asked as Viola handed her a flameless votive candle.
"Scotland." Viola fished out another light and watched Ian help clean the flung pumpkin guts. "I'm surprised you took this long to ask."
"You've never brought a client home and I wasn't sure what was appropriate." Amy dropped the candle into the pumpkin. "But then I saw the way you two look at each other."
Viola scrunched her nose. "Come on, what are you talking about?"
"You two look at each other the way you used to look at that boy, Billy Johnson." Amy set the pumpkin alongside the sidewalk and moved to the next in line, flipping her hand back and forth expressively. "You remember, the football captain you dated—"
"Yes, Mom, I remember Billy." How could she forget the first asshole to break her heart? "So, what of it?"
"I don't want you to get hurt like that again." With a shrug, her mom picked up the next pumpkin.
Frowning, Vi handed her mom another candle and stared at the goofy face her stepdad had carved. "I've had boyfriends since Billy, you know."
"Boyfriends and lovers are not the same," Amy dragged out the word.
Her inner teenager squirmed with disgust. "Please don't do that."
"I'm just saying that this appears to be something different, something more." She yanked the lid off of the silly pumpkin and tossed in the votive. "And if it is, then you need to ask yourself—What happens after the job is done?"
"I think you're getting ahead of yourself."
"I don't think it's me who's getting ahead of myself." Amy gave her a knowing look and replaced the pumpkin's lid. "Whatever happens between you two, make sure he's not the wham-bam type like Billy was."
Vi pushed back her shoulders and plastered a devilish smirk on her face. "Maybe I'm the wham-bam type."
"Yeah, right," her mom snorted. "Tell that to your face when you look at him."
A couple hours later, their two-car convoy rolled down the long dirt road that was the driveway to her grandparent's farm. Ronald, Amy, and Lana rode together in the family truck while Viola drove Ian and Aaron in the jeep. Her mom had insisted that there was really no point in calling Ian's driver when they had two perfectly capable vehicles.
Viola's heart thumped with excited anticipation as the jeep bounced along the uneven driveway. The old farmhouse loomed in the distance; two stories with a tin roof and white siding. On a summer evening, there was no better place to be than sitting on its wraparound porch, gazing at the big red barn—home to some of the sweetest horses a person could ever ride—and the rolling acres surrounding the property. Vi loved this place more than anywhere else in the world.
The sun was about to set on the horizon, streaking the cloud-wisped sky with pinks and yellows. Half a dozen trucks and cars were already parked outside the barn—and a few dozen more were still expected. No one threw a party like Grams and Gramps did. Lights from inside the stable poured from the big open doors, inviting everyone from miles around to come on in.
Ron pulled into a makeshift spot alongside the other cars and Viola parked next to him. Turning off the engine, she quickly pulled down the visor and checked herself in the small mirror. Vi was dressed to impress—in the country girl sense. She wore her best cowboy boots and fraying Daisy Duke shorts made from a pair of her old blue jeans. Her shirt was flannel which she'd tied a few inches under her breasts to show off her midriff. Revealing some of her tattoos, Viola had rolled the sleeves up over her elbows. Naturally, she also wore a cowboy hat planted on top of her long black and blonde waves.
"You look great." Ian watched her instead of getting out while Aaron was already heading for the barn.
"Thank you—oh, no." She burst into laughter, only now noticing what he was wearing. "You can't wear that."
"This is my best suit." He gestured to himself like it should have been apparent.
"Yeah, that's great for a club, but this"—she chuckled so hard, she nearly snorted—"is a party in a barn."
He glanced at the people streaming into the stable. "Okay, I see your point."
"Honestly, how did my mom let you leave the house like that?"
"Actually, she laughed much like you're doing now." He shook his head, running a hand over his face. "So did the others, now that I think about it."
"I'm sorry." Vi pushed open her car door. "Get out, I think we can sorta fix this."
The second she hopped out of the car, Jax was there to greet her. He was her grandparent's Australian Shepard with flecks of blue, black, and gray in his white fur. His little nub of a tail wiggled at her and his two-toned eyes—one baby blue and one brown—shined in the dying sunlight. She gave him a hug while scratching behind his ears, before walking to Ian's side of the jeep. The gravel crunching beneath her cowboy boots sent a thrill through her. That was the sound of impending good times.
"All right, take off your jacket," Vi said over the distant Country music.
Ian did immediately as he was told. Despite the white shirt he wore under the coat, Viola could clearly see his broad chest pressing against the material. Mr. Grave tossed the jacket into the jeep through the open window.
"Good. Now lose the tie."
He raised a sinister eyebrow and tugged at the knot. "Why do I feel like you're trying to get me undressed?"
"Nah, that comes later." She half-grinned, attempting not to think dirty thoughts…much.
Ian chuckled and dragged the tie from around his neck. The blush creeping into his sharp cheeks was too damned adorable. Perhaps her mom was right. This man could be trouble.
/> He chucked the expensive strip of fabric into the car. "Now what?"
"We need to roll up your sleeves." She moved closer to help with one sleeve as he worked the other. "This shirt will get dirty, just so you know. Dirt floors 'n all."
"I don't mind," he murmured, peering down at her through his soft lashes. "The experience is more important than the clothes."
"Words to live by." Pushing his sleeve above the elbow, she started unbuttoning his shirt without asking. He raised that naughty little eyebrow at her again and she smirked. "Just four buttons."
Finished with his other sleeve, he dropped his arms to his sides. "I trust your judgment."
"Oh, now, those are dangerous words." She stepped back to check her efforts as the driveway became a stream of endless headlights. There was something not quite right… He was still a little too clean-cut. "Ah, last thing."
Viola moved close again and reached up to his hair with both hands. Her fingers trailed through the black strands, loosening and pulling them forward a bit. As she worked, Vi was fully aware of his eyes on her face and his breath gently caressing her temple. It made her temperature rise, her heart pound a little faster.
Hardly breathing, she dropped her hands and studied how the tussled hair affected his face. That was a mistake. Somehow becoming unkempt made him more handsome… and in a dangerous sort of way. It was entirely too inviting to her. Then, Vi noticed how ragged his breathing had become and how intently he stared at her. She ripped her gaze away from his, but her eyes landed on the bare chest beneath his open collar. She gulped—when did her mouth get so dry?
"Viola! Come see your grandparents," her mom shouted from the barn, causing Vi to jump away as though she'd been caught doing something naughty. Okay, maybe in her mind she kinda was. Thank God, her mom couldn't read thoughts. "You'll miss all the fun standing out there."
"Somehow, I really doubt that," Viola mumbled to herself, thinking of the fun she and Ian could have in the backseat of the jeep. "Coming, Mom!"
