by Claire Marta
She sighed. Asier was into some kinky fucking. It was leaving her with a sharp hunger for his brand of sex. One that filled the void since Eric had broken her heart.
Jasmine knew she was in trouble. It was becoming more than addictive. In truth, she liked the pleasure pain. It kept her mind off the blue-eyed vamp.
She only wished Asier had helped her forget him completely. Yet, that seemed impossible.
Did Eric know she was seeing Asier? As far as she knew, he hadn’t returned to England in months. The Italian would have told her. She was sure of that. He knew she wanted to avoid Eric.
The gentle brush of fingers against her cheek jerked her from her reflections. Eric was close. Daydreaming had allowed him to move in without her realising it. The vampire’s wintry scent curled itself around her. Snow and pine. It was so familiar it caused a painful pang in Jasmine’s chest.
Taking a step back, she put some distance between them.
Eric’s hand dropped, reluctantly, back down at his side. “You are lovelier than Aphrodite.”
“I’m not interested in your chat up lines. I’d prefer you only talk to me if it’s regarding work, nothing more,” she told him resolutely.
What the hell was he playing at? Did he really think she’d fall for his smoothing talking all over again? She wasn’t as gullible as she’d been when they’d first met, nor as innocent thanks to Asier.
“Guys, the Medium’s ready.” Gemma was watching them from the doorway. Lips pressed together, her expression assessing.
“Thank fuck for that.” Without even glancing the vampire’s way. Jasmine hurried towards the door. Being alone with Eric was something she needed to avoid. With her team here, she could make sure it didn’t happen too much. Work was what she needed to focus on. Not her libido that went screaming into orbit the moment she set eyes on this wintry vamp. Besides, she had plenty of sex. Asier kept her carnal side satisfied in, oh, so many ways. Why Eric turned her on more than Asier, though, she didn’t know.
“You’re going to have to try better than that vamp,” Gemma taunted as she passed. “She’s immune to your slick talking, this time. We all are.”
Eric didn’t respond. Jasmine knew he was right behind her. Every cell in her body was aware of how close he was.
She only wished her friend were right.
As they trooped out into the corridor, the tap of heels caught their attention. Descending the stairs and dressed in a stylish black dress, which lavishly showed of her fit trim figure, a woman came into view. One slender hand rested on the banister. Her hips swayed as she took the steps down. Noticing them. she paused. Deep set whisky-brown eyes regarded them with a hint of suspicion. Framed by thick black eyelashes, they were a startling contrast to the female’s fine-boned face. Hair cut short in a pixie bob, the strands were a mix of tawny-brown highlights which could only have been achieved at a salon. Slowly continuing her motion towards them, her thin mouth lifted in a half-hearted smile. “You must be work colleagues of Mark’s. I’m Caroline O’Hara, and this is Ellen Carter, my daughter’s Nanny.”
It was then they noticed the other woman hovering just behind their hostess. Short and mousy, her hair was permed in a dense mass that had been scraped back into an untidy ponytail. Her clothes were a couple of sizes too big. So much so it did nothing for her shape. A pair of glasses were pushed right back on her nose. The lenses were thick, making her blue eyes look impossibly big. With an awkward nod, she greeted them, “Hi.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jasmine consoled her.
Gaze dropping from hers, Caroline’s features tightened in grief. “Thank you...it’s been a difficult time for all of us, since my father passed.”
“My condolences,” Eric sympathized softly. Standing tall and commanding, he loomed at Jasmine’s side. Jasmine fought the urge to make some space between them. She was sure he was doing it on purpose.
“Caroline.” Striding from the dining room, their boss appeared.
“Mark.” Taking his offered hand, Caroline planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for arranging all this. I know my father meant a lot to you.”
“Anything I can do to get to the bottom of what happened. Eric if you would kindly talk to the medium. We’ve been able to direct her, but her English is very bad.”
“Certainly, Detective, anything I can do to help.” With a small polite bow, the vampire detached himself from the group.
Ellen, the nanny, trailed behind him as they all made their way into the room. She looked a little shy. The quiet, introvert type, Jasmine noted.
The dining room was long and narrow. Steeped in shadows, the only illumination was coming from tapered candles, which had been placed around the room in expensive looking brass candelabras. They bathed the space in a soft yellow glow. This did little to ease Jasmine’s unrest. In fact, the odd feeling of being observed by unseen eyes began to increase.
“Hey, Jaz, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assured Fergus, who joined her by the door.
“You don’t look fine. You’re kind of pale.”
“I think you’d be shocked, too, if your ex-lover turned up out of the blue after being a dick to you,” Gemma remarked as she brushed past them.
“Guys, please, let’s drop it. I just want to get on with the investigation,” Jasmine whispered back well aware that several of them had supernatural hearing, the vampire included.
“She wishes us to take our places at the table and join hands for the séance to begin.” Eric’s calm voice interrupted them.
Jasmine glanced at the woman who sat at the head of the table. A silky scarlet scarf was tied around her forehead, and large round golden earrings were dangling from her earlobes. She looked like a gypsy. Bangles adorned her wrists and jangled as she moved her arms. A thick head of auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders beneath swath of colour. Generous lips painted in a matching scarlet, her eyes were also heavily lined with eyeliner for a dramatic effect. A loose, cream, off-the-shoulder top clung to her ample upper frame, matched with a long flowing skirt.
Eric coiled his long, lean body into a chair beside the medium. In silence, the others moved to take their places. Before Jasmine had a second to think, she found the only seat left available was right between Ellen and the vampire. Sighing internally, she resisted the urge to give her co-workers an evil glare. So much for keeping away from Eric.
Gemma smirked as she caught Jasmine’s eye. The situation seemed to amuse her.
Fergus, who was sitting between her and Mark, frowned as he realised his mistake at taking the wrong spot. As he moved to get up Jasmine shook her head. Having him change now would just be childish. She could do this. All she needed to do was act professional. It’d be a piece of cake.
Perching on the edge, she kept her legs together with the hem of her dress securely around her thighs in a ladylike fashion before tucking her knees under the table. It was round in shape and left little room beneath. Nudging her legs, she felt them bump into the nanny’s.
Without hesitation, her hand slipped into the warmth of Eric’s. On her right, Ellen took her other.
For a moment, his fingers tightened the grasp before they relaxed. She could feel the strength of his hold. Fingers long, his hand engulfed hers.
His touch always did weird things to her insides. This time, it sent heat flashing through her, and she could feel her heartbeat jump.
Jasmine was more than conscious of every line of his body, aware of the muscles that packed his frame and how they’d felt under her touch.
Speaking softly, the medium began. Head thrown back, her features were taught with concentration as her eyes closed.
“She wishes to know who we are contacting tonight.”
“My father, Professor John O’Hara,” Caroline told Eric from where she was seated beside Mark. Her expression was intent. “We want to know why he killed himself. The reason that drove him to do it.”
In flawless Hungarian, the vampire impa
rted the instructions. It made Jasmine wonder just how many languages he knew. Eric was ancient. No doubt he’d spent time mastering as many as possible.
“She will attempt to make a connection, but there is no guarantee that he will be the one to communicate with us,” he told them as the woman responded. “She says there are many restless souls waiting here to speak out.”
Jasmine knew with the Musee Grotesque full of human remains that was not surprising.
A hush fell over the room. The only sound that could be heard was their breathing and the tick of the clocks from the living room. As the candles flickered low, it deepened the shadows in the room.
Jasmine could feel invisible eyes fixed on them. It made her skin crawl. Nervously, she glanced around. They were alone, yet she knew they were not. Imperceptible forces oozed into the space with them.
The gypsy’s breathing quickened. A faint smile touched her lips, eyes still closed. Chin lowering to her chest her hair tumbled to hide her exotic face.
“We are not alone. Someone is here,” Eric’s voice was low as he spoke along with her as she began to speak.
“Is it benevolent?” Mark asked.
“Yes. It has a message,” Eric translated in his deep baritone.
The chill, which had filled the room, began to move, until it focused in one area, the top of the table where the woman sat. With it came an oppressive presence.
Jasmine watched as her expression became blank. A dark silence hung thickly. Everyone hushed, dangling on a moment for when some otherworldly being would make contact.
Without warning, the medium jerked. Back bowing in her chair, her mouth gaped open as her eyes shot side. Fingers twisting and locked in rigid claws she scored them down the table top. It was if she were possessed. Taken over. Her eyes were white and bulging, eyeballs looking as though they were trying to squeeze their way out of their sockets.
The light withered around the gathering.
From her peripheral vision, Jasmine could she shapes and forms. They adhered to the darkness that cocooned them so intimately it was if the light itself were afraid to reappear.
“The dead do not rest easily, here,” Eric continued to interpret as the woman’s words came out in an unearthly hiss.
Whispers.
Jasmine could hear them trickling in through the shadows. As if the things watching them had found a crack into their world. What they were saying was intelligible. A garble of soft sound.
Frightened, she tightened her grip on Eric’s hand. Squeezing back gently, his thumb traced soothing circles over her skin. She knew it was meant as a calming gesture, but it ended up being the complete opposite.
Her mind centred on his touch. The fear dropped away as heat infused her. She was very aware of every inch of her body, how the dress moved against her skin. The trails of sweat sliding slowly along each curve and nook.
“Illa Venit!” The words broke from the medium’s lips.
“That’s Latin not Hungarian,” Mark spoke up as he peered at her from over his glasses.
“Indeed,” Eric confirmed as he observed the female with an expression of mild curiosity. He looked unfazed by what was going on. “She is coming.”
A vibration strummed across the table top. As it hit again the whole thing shifted of its own accord.
“That’s not funny, Fergus.”
“It’s not me,” the werewolf insisted, throwing Gemma a look of astonishment at her accusation. It shuddered below them. Then, the sound of the table legs scraping across the floor beneath them could be heard. Jasmine’s grip clenched bruisingly around Eric’s. It was if the piece of furniture had a mind of its own.
“ILLA VENIT!”
A sinister cackle filled the space around them.
Failing at keeping her breathing slow and even, Jasmine got the impression something grotesque stalked the séance. An entity that had been awaiting its chance to speak.
Across the surface, Gemma bucked in her seat as the piece of furniture they were gathered around was flung from side to side. “Fuck this,” She cried out, her voice rising an octave in fright.
“Take it easy,” Mark advised calmly. “It’s just showing off.”
“I don’t feel like it’s giving us a warm welcome, whatever it is.” Fergus was clutching the huntress’s hand, preventing her from snatching it free. “More like a get the fuck out.”
The air around them felt close and sticky, despite the chill.
Just as quickly the medium crumpled forwards, freed. Shoulders shaking, she seemed to be getting herself under control from whatever had consumed her.
Evaporating, the shadows abruptly receded as the light crept back in.
“What the heck just happened?” Ellen asked. Eyes round as saucers, the nanny look petrified at what had just occurred.
A stream of harsh sounding Hungarian fled the gypsy’s lips as she pushed away from them and onto her feet. Taking it as a sign, everyone broke the circle.
“She refuses to carry on.” The chilliness in Eric’s eyes encompassed all of them.
“What? Why?” Jasmine could still feel the warmth of his hand even after he released it and moved away.
“She says this place is cursed with evil. That we should not stay here.”
“Local mumbo jumbo,” Caroline dismissed. Lips twisting slightly in distaste, she rose from her chair her sleek bob swinging with the motion. “I am not leaving my home because some false hack tells me to. She’s as fake as the exhibits in this place.”
Raking a hand through his short chestnut locks, their boss shot their hostess a frown. “Caroline...”
“No, Mark. I appreciate you doing all this, but I don’t think it’ll help discover why my father killed himself.” Gracefully, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a headache starting.” Not waiting for a reply, she swept from the room with a haughty air.
“She’s a little snotty, isn’t she?” Gemma muttered the moment they heard the tap of Caroline’s heels on the stairs.
“Grief can make you lash out, she doesn’t mean it,” Ellen told them meekly. Flicking on the overhead lighting, she visibly relaxed. “She’s been dealing with so much since John died. It’s not the first loss she’s had to deal with in the last few months.”
“You were here when it happened? Saw his death?” Jasmine questioned. She was aware of Eric talking softly with the distraught medium. Whatever he was saying was doing little to ease her fears.
“No, I was out with Tabitha, and Caroline was shopping. The only people in the house were the housekeeper and the handy man, Tamás.” Moving around the room, Ellen busied herself, blowing out candles. “I better check on Tabitha. She has a habit of sleep walking, poor thing. After what I just witnessed, I’m not sure I’ll be getting any sleep tonight.”
Almost in the same instant, the gypsy accompanied her out in a flurry of skirts. It looked like she wasn’t going to be hanging around. She looked thoroughly spooked. Knowing they were spending the night in the place after what had just happened, Jasmine wondered how any of them would get any rest.
“Perhaps I can be informed of what exactly we are dealing with?” Eric enquired. One eyebrow raised, his posture exuded a calm confidence.
“Professor John O’Hara was a close friend of mine. For over fifty years, he dealt with mystical and arcane artefacts, as well as owning the Musee Grotesque. He was a world-renowned expert among the supernatural community,” Mark explained to the vamp as he stretched his legs out from where he was still sitting. “Over a week ago, I received a message from John. He was raving about something he’d discovered, something beyond any of the things he’d found before...something dangerous.”
“Did he tell you what this item was?”
Pursing his lips in irritation, Mark shook his head. “No. He didn’t want to tell me over the phone. Said it was far too hazardous. We were wrapping up the end of a case, so I couldn’t fly over straight away...the next thing I knew he was dead.�
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“Unnatural causes, I presume?” Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, Eric continued to regard them with a cool interest.
“He threw himself from the roof of this building after raving about ghosts plaguing him. He died on impact.”
“And we’re here to discover what happened,” Jasmine butted in, hating the vampire’s unbreakable facade. It was part of his handsome deception. Eric was never just Eric as far as she could see. He always took a part. Changed like a chameleon to suit any situation.
“That and find the artefact he mentioned.” Finally standing, Mark pushed his chair back into place under the table. “If it’s as deadly as he told me, it can’t be allowed to fall into the wrong hands or remain in this museum unprotected.”
Long, thick black eyelashes lowering, the vampire took a moment to absorb their words. “I believe you are lodging here?” He asked after a beat.
“Yeah we are,” Jasmine confirmed.
“Excellent.” An enigmatic smile curved Eric’s lips and chased the coldness from his features. “I shall take a room myself.”
Shooting him a disbelieving look, she felt a bout of anxiety rise. “I don’t think there’s any space left. The family don’t have much with most of the place containing all of the macabre things they have on display.” Having him under the same roof for the entire stay wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. Being rich, and with extravagant tastes, she assumed he would’ve booked himself into one of the expensive hotels. It looked as if she wasn’t that lucky.
Eric’s clear blue eyes met hers. “I am sure some small corner can be found. I do not require much.”
“You’ll have to ask the housekeeper.” Jasmine turned away from his attractive face. The bastard was enjoying this. Although he was very hard to read, she hadn’t missed the flash of amusement.
“Very well, I shall do so, now, before retrieving my bag from my rental car.” Not waiting for a reply, he strode from the room with a purposeful step.
“Well, it looks like we’re stuck with the vamp,” Gemma commented when they heard the bang of the front door as he left.
