Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  “Why, Juliana?” Alex’s voice cracked. “Why did you try this without me?” The knife scar on his face reddened and that infernal muscle ticked in his jaw again. Telltale signs of his ire…and alarm.

  Guilt pricked her, and she caressed the ridge of his scar. “You avoided the subject every time I raised it this morning, then you got called down to the precinct.”

  Cheeks aflame with emotion, he scowled, opened his mouth to object, shut it.

  She winked. “Come on. You can’t deny it.”

  “Doc Brian said I need to be your anchor.”

  Andrea jerked on his pant leg. “What I am? Chopped liver. Juliana and I go way back, in case you forgot.”

  “Not the same.”

  Juliana held up her hand to halt the sibling rivalry from launching into her orbit. She sat up and distanced herself from Alex’s enticing body. “I had a strong gut feeling I could handle this one. This person isn’t evil. In fact…” Wobbly, she stood and stepped to the credenza. He rose alongside her, inches away to catch her if she fell. She picked up the prom photograph on the credenza, ready for a vision to hit her, but the frame was clean, innocent. Wheeling around, she asked, “Penknife, please?”

  He dug into his pocket, opened his penknife, and handed it to her. She eased apart the photo frame and set the backing aside to reveal newsprint folded in half on top of the photograph.

  Alex clutched her hand before she picked up the news clipping. “He hid this here,” she said.

  “Fingerprints.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, you already said the guy left no prints anywhere.” Silent, he exhaled heavily, rubbing his scar.

  Regardless, she handled the small piece of paper by the corners. As Juliana read the headline of the article, her pulse accelerated and she leaned against Alex’s supportive weight. “Oh. My. God.” Her jaw hung open. “The Paranormal Scientific Institute of New York’s Latest Discoveries of the Mind.” Andrea hovered on her other side, reading the article over her shoulder. Juliana continued reading the unfamiliar text from the science pages of a popular New York newspaper. “Teenagers Leigh Duncan and Lauren McKenna are the newest test subjects exhibiting unusual and strong psychic activity to join the Institute. Both have suffered traumatic events in their lives that have opened their minds to worlds beyond the normal realm of science…”

  “Who’s Lauren McKenna?” Alex asked.

  “I just told Andrea about her,” Juliana half-whispered.

  “She’s the one you mentioned?” Andrea gripped Juliana’s arm to steady her wavering hand on the piece of paper.

  Juliana nodded and repeated what she’d told Andrea earlier for Alex’s sake. “How weird is it that I’d never told anyone about her until today and now this?”

  “Déjà vu.” Andrea shivered.

  “You think she planted this?” Alex handed her a plastic evidence bag.

  “No. I doubt she knows who I am. No one has exposed me as Leigh Duncan. The debacle during the kidnapping never even linked me to that name. Surprisingly.” Juliana slipped the article into the baggie. Not that Alex could’ve controlled how the press plastered her real identity around the world as the psychic assisting the police in finding Lisette.

  “Someone’s linked you two.” Alex reassembled the frame and set it in place. “For what reason? I don’t like it.”

  “Should we do more touch testing?” Andrea asked.

  Alex rounded on her. “Are you deranged? Besides, I need to get back to work.”

  Juliana rubbed his arm, an encroaching ache increasing in intensity behind her eyes. “I’m wasted. Only so much my mind can handle at one time. I want to think about this, and we’ll brainstorm later, discover what other info the police dug up.”

  Alex tossed Andrea a smirk. “Can I trust you two to go straight home?”

  “We need groceries. No lie there, bro. Beer and cold cereal makes for a cranky female population in your house.” Andrea picked up their purses, handed one to Juliana.

  Worlds away, she recalled the brief time in New York when she’d met Lauren. They’d shared few precious moments and welcomed a kindred connection before the docs transferred Lauren to another facility. Devastated and barely able to keep it together to talk to Juliana, Lauren explained how she’d recently lost her mother to a freak accident. Worst of all, they called her a clairvoyant, yet Lauren didn’t remember having any psychic abilities. Her father had shipped her off to the Institute the same as Juliana’s father dumped her there. In Lauren’s case, she welcomed the change, welcomed the opportunity to discover the missing links. Whereas, Juliana hated it with all her might.

  “Juliana? More clues?”

  Alex’s voice sliced through her morose thoughts. “Thinking about the Institute, my dad.” She set the alarm and he locked the door. Even though he didn’t want her staying overnight at her house until he deemed it safe, she wistfully peeked over her shoulder at her haven. Despite the intruder, she still sensed a fragile refuge in her home. Will I never have a truly secure place in the world?

  Alex snaked his arm around her waist and plastered her to his side. “We’re together now. You’re safe. All that counts,” he said, his voice as soft as a caress.

  Joy cascaded through the sunlight warming her face as her real safety net surrounded her with his solid body. She cradled his warmth on her skin. “Love counts, too. I love you, Alex MacKenzie.”

  The weekend flew by in a blur. No visions. No news about the accident. No leads on the intruder. They spent the days in family bliss at Alex’s house with James, Andrea, and Lisette. What if’s, the intruder, the news clipping, the accident/murder, the weird “twilight” message kept piling up, and Juliana’s need to join the Guild was an ember refusing to die inside her. By the time Monday rolled around, she’d reached her limits of inactivity and was going bonkers.

  Slurping down the last dregs of her coffee, Juliana’s brain spun a million revolutions a minute. She stared out the kitchen window into the backyard, her gaze settling on the rope swing the guys had hung on the magnolia tree for Lisette over the weekend. Strong arms embraced her from behind, and Alex nuzzled her neck.

  “You’re pensive,” he said in her ear, sucking her earlobe between his lips. She gasped as heat assaulted her, the electrical storm Alex’s touch always created zinging in her veins. “Thinking about lazing in bed with me?” He cupped her right breast, his thumb flicking over her sensitive nipple.

  “Keep that up and we won’t make it to bed.” She pressed her rear against his hardening erection.

  “Oh, gross. Get a room, will ya?” Andrea’s gagging laugh shattered the quiet tension.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” Alex spun Juliana in front of the stiff evidence of his desire, blocking his view from Lisette bouncing inside the room.

  “Can we do family game night again tonight, Uncle Alex?”

  “It’s up to your mom.” He rested his chin on Juliana’s head.

  “She said no. It’s a school night.” Lisette pouted, shooting a dark glare at Andrea slipping on her purple nurse’s jacket. “But it’s your house. You make the rules.” A smile flirted with her lips.

  “Oh, no you don’t, missy.” Andrea handed Lisette her lunchbox. “You know Uncle’s a pushover for your bright blue eyes and beautiful, minxy smile.”

  “I know, Mom.” Lisette rolled her eyes. “You taught me.”

  Everyone busted out in a companionable laugh that sank into Juliana’s soul in overwhelming joy. She couldn’t wait for her and Alex to have kids. In due time…

  “Hey, dude, let the little ladies go and let’s hit it.” James sauntered into the room, strapping on his gun and badge. “Looking forward to game night. I’m gonna wipe the floor on Monopoly tonight.”

  Lisette clapped and jumped up and down. The blonde minx had them all twisted around her pinky.

  Alex walked Juliana to her car and opened the door for her. “Busy day?”

  “Not too bad for a Monday. Enough to kee
p me occupied. I guess I need to dig through Falbrooke’s files and draft a presentation for his daughter. See how she wants to proceed.”

  “Substantial portfolio?”

  “Yes. Plus, I’m investing for the law firm too. And I have to contend with McAllister’s interest in the partnership. They’ll have important decisions to make. Heck, who knows? Maybe she’ll can me.”

  “She’ll need you to manage his financial life until she can focus. I’m glad you’ll be there for her. She couldn’t ask for a better financial manager.” He leaned through the window and kissed her. “Love you. Stay safe. Call me if anything, I mean anything, looks suspicious.”

  “Love you more.” Failing to ignore the weird burn of urgency in her gut, she asked, “Can we go to the impound lot today?”

  Alex rubbed his scar, thinking. “I’m stuck on this new case. But I’ll call you when I get a break,” he replied.

  At least he didn’t outright deny her. She smiled and reversed her car down the driveway, leaving him glowering, half in jest, half knowing she might be up to her own shenanigans of the psychic kind. He already knew her too well. Speeding off, she dialed her assistant and had Marie clear her one morning appointment.

  Chapter Eight

  That weird pressure of insistence inside her gut had expanded, and she needed to connect to Falbrooke somehow before the link dissipated forever. Since she couldn’t get into the police impound lot without Alex, not that she wanted to, the next best solution was to revisit the so-called crime scene.

  She’d barely parked her car along the deserted road on the hillside when her nervousness twitched across her shoulders. Maybe I should wait for Alex. What if the gunman still hung around and recognized her? What if the threats to Guild members extended to her? Her persistent need to solve the mysteries, to give the Guild more ammunition to pad her resume for admittance into the exclusive club overshot all her questions. Tamping down the jitters in her stomach, Juliana snagged the gun from her glovebox and shoved it inside her cross-body purse.

  The pre-autumn day brought a slight chill to the air. A handful of yellow leaves drifted off the trees and floated down to dance across the empty road. Juliana’s flat-heeled shoes crunched on gravel peppering the roadside. Sunlight twinkled off scattered windshield glass and broken headlight pieces. She searched the ground for car parts the cops missed: possibly a door handle, a sheared off side mirror, any leftover hunk Falbrooke may have touched. Most of all, she wanted to find a stray bullet, to prove her vision was more than a message from beyond the grave. Could she get so lucky?

  A visual scan produced nada. “Damn you, Lady Luck. Come play with me here and now.” Juliana drummed her fingers on her purse, comforted by the solidness of the gun Alex forced her to carry in her car. At first, she hated it, hated guns, period. Yet, she was getting used to the idea, especially since she may not always have him by her side as she investigated crimes her way.

  “Guess I’ll scurry through the bushes like a ground squirrel sniffing for lunch.” A cache of small boulders surrounded by dried grasses from the long hot summer marked the farthest perimeter from the road.

  Golden grass and a thorny bush brushed dust on her black slacks as she knelt on the ground. Rocks, leaves, and limbs littered the ground. The occasional piece of paper and a plastic bag floating on the breeze towed her attention to each. Sunlight caught on a small object sticking out of dry, brown leaves off to Juliana’s right. She scooched over, picked up a stick, and brushed the leaves aside. Her pulse quickened as she took in a three-inch pewter sword on a torn piece of leather, a pendant or a rearview mirror dangle.

  “Did this belong to you, Michael?” She hoped he’d answer with a resounding “yes” from heaven. No such luck.

  Juliana sat on her butt, not caring about the rocks poking her rear or the dirt coating her black pants. A slight incline in the road, and her car hid her from passersby. Not that it mattered. Not one car had driven up or down the mountain since she’d arrived. If she passed out and someone spied her, they’d assume she was sunning against a boulder. She hoped. Unless I slide to the side and look like a dead idiot. Juliana bit her bottom lip, tasting copper. This whole touch telepathy was too new, and she hadn’t figured out how she’d handle the situation in public or on pseudo-public mountainsides.

  “Crap. Maybe Alex was right about always accompanying me.” The dire need to touch blazed through her, awakening that psychic part of her brain. Who knew if she’d accomplish anything if she waited and the need evaporated? She had to strike while her psyche was hot.

  She picked up the tiny sword. Before she batted an eyelash, the vision hit, weak and sketchy at first, growing stronger. Juliana fisted the dusty sword, and darkness rolled over her, stealing the light.

  “Planning on stabbing me with that toothpick?” a vaguely familiar man said, a smooth chuckle following his deep baritone tease. An indiscernible accent laced his voice.

  “Maybe you, if you don’t park that beast where it belongs for once in your life,” Falbrooke said. “My daughter gave me this sword, our Scottish clan design.”

  “Noticed. Kinda matches the sword dangling from my neck, old man.”

  “What can I say? You and my daughter have great taste. Similar tastes.”

  “Speaking of great taste.” The strange man’s voice sobered. He lifted a tumbler of amber liquid to his lips and tossed back the contents. “You know the Guild wants what’s best for her. For all.”

  “Not at the expense of her heritage,” Falbrooke growled out, knocking back his own drink. “I’m not rejoining their ranks. Been there, done that, it’s over for me.” He ran his fingers up and down the tiny blade.

  “You know it’ll never be over. You need their protection, especially now. Don’t let Rose and Ethan’s deaths have been in vain.”

  “In view of threats to the Guild, everyone’s suspect, including you.” He stabbed the sword in the leather desk pad and left it sticking in the air.

  “I’m on your side.”

  “Are you? I heard last night from the round table that you want to bag Twilight as much as anyone who knows of its existence.”

  “That’s fucked up.” The younger stranger vaulted out of his seat and arched over the desk menacingly. Long dark hair came unraveled from the band tying it at the nape of his neck. “Who bent your ear?”

  “See what I mean? Everyone’s suspect.” The older man shrugged. “Too many people want it. Twilight will appear above ground, and everything I’ve worked for to protect what’s left of my family will be for shit.”

  “Then let me deal with it,” the stranger said, avarice flashing in the black holes of his eyes.

  “Over my dead body.” Falbrooke topped off their glasses with a top-label Scotch.

  “May come sooner than you think.”

  The stranger’s voice filtered into Juliana’s ears from outside her head. “Yo, Juliana Westwood? You okay? Want me to call an ambulance?”

  Head leaning against a hard, unyielding object, her eyelids fluttered open, blearily landing on one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. Chiseled cheekbones and chin, blade nose, and blue eyes that rivaled Alex’s liquid azure orbs. Long dark hair framed his face, flowing free in the breeze, brushing across his shoulders. The aura of danger surrounded him along with an emotion she had a difficult time naming. A not unwelcome desire oozed inside her and fire speared down her middle. A silver sword dangled from his neck on a thick silver chain. The younger man from her vision.

  “Jake McAllister?” She pulled her knees up to her chest, imprisoning her purse against her middle. She squeezed her hand inside the small leather bag and curled her grip around the gun handle. “What are you doing here?”

  “Guess I don’t need to ask you the same,” he drawled in the slight New Orleans accent Juliana recalled from the one time she’d met him in Falbrooke’s office, and the same accent she’d just heard in her head. Holy murderer’s hell. His half-zipped hoodie parted and drew Juliana’s perusa
l to his ripped abs outlining his snug T-shirt beneath. And the telltale leather strap of a gun harness. Her stomach gurgled.

  The voice, his presence, the connection to Falbrooke. It all fit together in one startling moment of clarity. She should fear this man. Yet when she’d met him in Falbrooke’s office, she’d been drawn to his charisma, his hard and soft edges, his sexy southern drawl. Times have changed. In her mystical psychic handbook, he was a suspect in Falbrooke’s “accidental” death…the silhouette in the mirror, the man who’d broken into her house, and possibly the man who’d breached her mind during the accident vision—that scared, fleeing entity. Did all those moments and events boil down to Falbrooke’s young partner, Jake McAllister?

  What are they trying to protect, other than Lily Falbrooke? Twilight? Twilight what?

  Narrowed eyes, she regarded him. He held out his hand to give her a lift up, and she cringed against the boulder.

  “Sorry, no offense. I don’t touch strangers,” she said lamely, but by the same token, knowing he understood.

  “We’re hardly strangers. After all, you’re my financial advisor, right? You know me rather intimately, I’d say.” Jake chuckled, a sardonic twist to his mouth. “I’m down with it. You’ve got the touch thing.” His slow twilight-eyed perusal stripped her bare.

  No surprise that news of her abilities had preceded her. Did the entire Guild membership know her inside and out now?

  Standing on shaky legs, she dusted off the seat of her pants, stuffing the sword in her rear pocket. “Did you find what you were hunting?” She stretched her mind out, hit the walls in his head, and quickly retreated. What psychic ability did he possess? What role did he play in the Guild? Falbrooke’s Guardian, killer, or both?

  “The question is, did you?” He eyed her critically, digging deep for non-vocal answers.

  “I asked first.”

  “I found you.” Jake extended his hand to touch her, realized his mistake, and thrust his hand in his hoodie pocket.