A Viking Ghost for Valentine's Day (Gambling Ghosts Series Book 2)

by Jo-Ann Carson

  He knew better than to comment on her prejudice. “I want to help her.”

  “Hmm. Help someone in need? You may be more ready for the light than you or I ever expected.”

  “So let me be.”

  Brunhilde scowled and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not happy about this.”

  “I get that.”

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  Deal? This should be interesting. He waited while she floated around him twice and stopped a couple inches from his face.

  “I won’t bother you about this … this … improper dalliance between you and a human woman, if you promise me to finish it within a week.”

  He nodded, but he seriously doubted that was going to happen.

  9

  Getting to Know You

  A VIKING … AND A HOT ONE. Just her luck he was dead.

  Abby’s mind reeled as she finished her last chores for the night and the time for her walk with Dodger neared. Digging deep to find some humor to lighten the tingle of terror that skittered around her senses, she came up with a new mantra: I can live with ghosts. Not that she was sure she could, but it seemed as if the universe had decided she must. Fate is a bitch.

  When she came out of the bathroom with her mop and pail, she ran right into him. As her body touched his apparition, a chill gripped the base of her spine and spiraled upwards. She stepped back. “Sorry,” she said.

  “You ready yet?” he said, looking closely at her mop. “I hope you don’t plan on using that on me.”

  “Hi,” she said and swallowed.

  “You do remember our date.”

  Date? He’s calling this a date. She pulled her hand through her hair, hoping it didn’t look as messy as she imagined it must. “Give me five.”

  “I’ll wait for you outside the front door,” he said and walked past her. Hmm, nice back side. Hard and round.Oh my goodness what am I thinking? She shook her head and headed to the janitor’s closet to put things away. Cold, as in dead cold. That was how he felt. Dead. She needed to remember that.

  A few minutes later she joined Eric on the front porch. As she stepped down the stairs he kept pace with her, floating by her side.

  It was a gorgeous night, warm for February, with a clear sky filled with stars and a full moon. It was a lover’s sky. He’s dead, she reminded herself.

  “So they call you Dodger,” she said out loud.

  “Ja, my friends call me that, but my real name is Erik Eklund. I am from Sweden and I am a Viking warrior.”

  “And you dodge the light.”

  He looked up at the stars and her eyes followed. He sighed. “Something like that. But tell me more about you.”

  “My name is Abigail Jenkins. Friends call me Abby. I hope you’ll call me Abby.” The words flowed out of her mouth as if she were talking … as if she were talking to a real guy. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “I feel so silly.”

  “Don’t,” he said. “It’s just you and me. Let’s just be ourselves, our true selves.”

  The timbre of his voice resonated within her, masculine … strong … and oh so sexy. This had to be the craziest experience she had ever had, but the sincerity in his voice anchored her. There was no point in lying to a dead man. “I’m a widow and I have three children under the age of five. You can run now. Or float away, or whatever ghosts do when they want to escape a complicated situation.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The megawatt smile he gave her warmed her from the ring on her baby toe to the top of her head. Not exactly the response one usually had when a ghost tells you he’s sticking around. But this guy, this ghost, this whatever, was something else. “Uh-huh,” was all she could manage to say.

  ***

  ERIC WANTED TO TELL HER that he thought she was the strongest and bravest women he had ever met, but he didn’t want her to know he had already been in her home and seen her family and the hard road they traveled. She would feel stalked. And while stalking was quite acceptable in his world, it wasn’t in hers. He needed to be careful what he said, so he said nothing.

  Part of him, the practical part that he rarely listened to, thought this walk would cool his interest in her. After all, he had met many beautiful women over the years who seemed much less beautiful when they started talking. But this one was different. Everything about her was different. She had a brave and warm heart.

  After a hot, uncomfortable minute, he broke their silence. “What happened to your husband?”

  “Ben.” She bit her lip. After a second’s hesitation, she continued, “had brain cancer.” She swallowed. The memories of his illness and his death, still so fresh and painful made her stop in her tracks for a minute. Eric stood beside her and said nothing.

  “But between you and me,” she continued as she started walking again, “he could have lived longer. He gave up on life.”

  “I can’t imagine him wanting to leave you.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was the drugs and the never-ending tests. Cancer is a horrible way to die. It takes you down bit by bit. He got tired of fighting and just wanted it all to stop.” She shrugged as if the action could rid her of her feelings. “I know I’m supposed to feel sorry for him, but I don’t. I’m angry as hell at him. He gave up.”

  “Did he have a choice?”

  She nodded. Her throat thickened. “There was one more experimental drug he could have tried. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t give it a chance. He left me to raise the kids alone. He could have given our family one more try.”

  Eric said nothing, just stayed beside her as she spilled her guts all over the city sidewalk. After a few seconds he flew behind her and came up on her other side. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up for feelings that are so natural. Death is hard on all of us.”

  “You must think I’m a horrid person. Normally I hide behind a mask, but you’re not human, or at least not … Well you know what I mean. I’m sure you couldn’t care less about the details of my predicament.”

  Eric winced. And you would be wrong. But he nodded hoping she would reveal more of herself. When she didn’t, he spoke. “I don’t understand how a man would leave you, not to mention his three children, if he felt he had a choice. I suspect Ben had come to the end of his road. He made the best choice he could.”

  She kicked a stone with her toe. “Ben stayed alive until I had the baby and then he stopped eating, and a few days later they pronounced him dead.” He had chosen his time yes, but it would be a long time before she would forgive him for it.

  “Abby, it’s not your fault. None of it’s your fault. Not his cancer. Not his death. And not your anger. Give yourself a break.”

  She stopped and looked into the Viking’s blue eyes, the color of the sky on a clear spring morning. A woman could get lost in those peepers. What was it she was trying to say? Darn those eyes. They made her feel as though tropical ocean waves washed over her, warming her, caressing her, washing away her pain. If she weren’t careful his baby blues would carry her off to sea.

  She swallowed. Yup, she had spilled her guts. And nope, he hadn’t run. “Thanks for listening.”

  He shrugged.

  “Do you think Ben is around?” Abby looked into the dark night.

  “We’re alone right now.” Eric kept pace with her. “That’s all I can really say. Who lives and who dies and where they roam is beyond my understanding.”

  “But you would feel him, if he were near.”

  “Ja.”

  “Ah well. He probably took the express bus upstairs, being raised a good Catholic boy and all.”

  Dodger nodded. “Most people take the express, one way or another.”

  “But not you.”

  His jaw clenched. “Back to you. Raising three kids is hard. Do you have any family that can help you?

  “My cousin, Jillian. She’s all I got, but she’s darn special.” Abby waved her hand in the air. “She and her husband Mike moved here last fall, so after Ben die
d I came to town to be near them. Jillian babysits for me and helps me out as much as she can. But that’s enough about me. Your turn. How old are you?”

  “The dead don’t tell time.” He tilted his head, a smile tugging on his perfect lips. “It passes differently in our dimension. But I can tell you I was born in the tenth century, before the Norman conquest of England.”

  “You’re over a thousand years old!”

  “Ja, and I’m a 1B ghost, which means I’m powerful.”

  And humble too, she thought.

  “The one means I can manifest in human form at any time, to anyone I choose. The B part means I’m benevolent. I would never hurt you or anyone else.”

  “So if you’re so powerful, why don’t you go to heaven?”

  He paused a moment and then spoke in a quieter voice, as if he had decided to tell her something he didn’t like to talk about. “As a young man I dreamed of going to Valhalla. That is where Vikings who die in battle go. But that was not my good fortune. So I continue here on earth where I have fun.”

  “So you didn’t die in battle.”

  “Nej.” A dark shadow crossed his eyes warning her not to ask more.

  A little breeze ruffled Abby’s hair and she eyed him.

  “You know in all my years I have never met a woman like you.”

  Abby put her hand up for him to stop. “Don’t.”

  “Why not? I thought we would speak true.”

  And sometimes a man and a woman need a little mystery. But she didn’t say that. She stopped in front of her little house. She knew it looked like a rundown shack to most people, but to her it was home. “Here we are. I would invite you in, but …”

  Her words were interrupted by a loud, female scream coming from inside her house.

  10

  An Unwanted Ghost

  AS ABBY FUMBLED WITH KEYS, Eric walked through the door into the front room.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes. Pure, black energy swirled around a woman. A poltergeist! The woman had stopped screaming and looked unconscious. With her eyes wide-open she had slid into the poltergeist’s power.

  “Poltergeist, be gone,” Eric shouted.

  The front door opened and Abby ran into the room.

  Hearing Eric, the poltergeist’s energy stopped swirling and sucked itself back into a human form, a boy with half his head missing. A truly gruesome sight. As he tightened the grip on the woman’s neck her face paled to deathly white.

  “How dare you interrupt me, Viking.”

  “You don’t belong here.” He swiped the air with his massive arm. I vanquish you.”

  “You cannot.” The boy laughed. “You may be bigger than me, but we both know you’re not stronger.”

  “Let the woman go.”

  Electric energy buzzed through the room

  Abby edged to Eric’s side. “Sweet Jesus, what the hell is that.” She pointed at the boy, whose ghastly image fazed in and out, looking human one moment and like black mist the next.

  “A poltergeist. Let me handle it.”

  “Making friends with humans, Viking? How cute.” The leer on the boy’s face chilled the room.

  “Be gone. Dra åt helvete.”

  The boy laughed.

  “I said, go to hell.”

  Abby picked up a lamp from the side table and threatened the poltergeist with it. She didn’t really think a lamp could hurt a spirit, but she wasn’t about to stand by and watch her cousin die. “In the name of all that is holy, be gone. Get out of my house,” she screamed.

  The evil spirit evaporated. She rushed in and gathered her cousin in her arms.

  “Jillian, are you all right?” Holding her close she felt warmth return to her cousin’s cold, body. Jillian coughed. Abby stroked her hair.

  Meanwhile the Viking stood beside them and said nothing.

  “What? What just happened?” Jillian sputtered as she regained consciousness.

  Abby looked up at Eric. He shook his head.

  “I’m not sure,” said Abby and that was the honest to goodness truth. “When I came in you were … not looking good. You look better now. Do you remember what happened?”

  Jillian pushed herself away and put her hand to her forehead. “The last thing I remember was hearing a noise outside the door. I went to check it out, but before I reached the door … No, that makes no sense.”

  “Just tell me what you remember.”

  “I must have fallen asleep. It must have been a dream. A nightmare.”

  “Tell me.”

  “A little black cloud …” She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face. “Came at me and kind of … devoured me. It made horrific slurping sounds as it ate me from the inside out. I screamed and then everything went black.” Her body trembled and her face remained an unearthly white color, making her look more dead than Eric. “It had to be a nightmare. The worst ever.”

  Abby looked again at Eric. He folded his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. Well, maybe he wasn’t a hot shot at helping with the living, but it sure had been nice to have him around when she had to deal with that other thing.

  Mike, Jillian’s husband, came in through the open front door. “What’s going on? Why is the door wide open?” Seeing Jillian on the floor, he rushed towards her.

  “She’s okay. She’s going to be okay,” Abby said, wanting to believe it, more than actually believing it, herself.

  Jillian gave him one of her determined looks “Take me home.”

  Mike looked over her head at Abby and raised a brow. She gave him a thumbs up.

  “Abby, I don’t want to leave without knowing what happened. Are the kids okay?” Mike was the uber-responsible one in the family and she loved that about him.

  The kids! “I’ll check,” she said. Eric flew ahead of her down the hall. They checked the bedrooms. All three slept soundly, as if they had no cares in the world.

  When she got back to the living room, Jillian was standing on her own. Wobbly, but vertical. That had to be a good sign. Right? Her cheeks had some color, but her eyes still had a nasty yellow glow to them. A hangover from the dark spirit.

  “The kids are fine. I can’t thank you enough, Jillian, for taking care of them.”

  She nodded slowly. “Glad to help out.”

  “Let’s go home,” said Mike, putting an arm around her waist. Normally Jillian wouldn’t have liked that sign of love in public, but she didn’t object. Abby saw them to the door and watched them get into their car parked at the curb.

  After they re-entered the house, Eric spoke first. “You were amazing.”

  Abby felt a lot of things, but amazing wasn’t one of them. “What was that? Why was it in my home? What the hell just happened?” Anger rose inside her as words gushed out.

  “Älsking, calm down. You and your children are safe. I am here.”

  “Great, a ghost guard.” Her emotions rampaged within her, tearing her apart, not letting her hide behind a façade of politeness. Was this the cost of taking the janitor job? She wanted to kick him or bite him, or someone, hard. Her home and her family had been assaulted. And Jillian, her sweet cousin who would do anything for her, had been hurt.

  “Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  “I don’t want tea.” She threw her arms in the air. “I want an explanation. What happened?”

  “The swirling dark energy was a poltergeist. By his color and abilities, I’d say he’s powerful. Very powerful. And mean. And vicious.”

  “What would he want from me?”

  Their eyes locked for a moment. Eric’s glacial blues didn’t flinch. She could hear the wheels turning in his ghostly noggin, wondering how much to tell her.

  “Just tell me.”

  “He wants your children.”

  11

  Just a Regular Ghost

  “MY CHILDREN? THAT … that thing wants my children? What would he do with them?” Air rushed out of her lungs.

  “I wish you’d let me make you tea.”


  “Does he eat kids?”

  “How about honey? Would you like honey in your tea?”

  She glared at him. “Tell me, or I swear I’ll … I’ll . . . ”

  A slow, sly grin spread across his face. “And I thought you couldn’t look more beautiful. Did you know that when you get riled up, you’re really something? A momma bear. No, more like a panther mom ready to go for the jugular.”

  “Eric.”

  He blew wind in her direction, forcing her body backwards, towards the sofa. She sat and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s better,” he said.

  Her hands clenched into fists.

  “Have you ever met a poltergeist before?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Well, for starters, don’t believe all the stories you’ve heard, or the horror movies you’ve seen. Poltergeists don’t come in a one-size package of misery. They come in all sizes and shapes. The most important thing to remember about them is that they are evil, pure evil.”

  “Are they ghosts?”

  His head toggled from side to side. “Nej. I wouldn’t call them ghosts. Mostly they’re left over anger.”

  “Anger?”

  “Ja, when a person dies with a lot of anger, it can be left behind.”

  “And they’re dangerous.”

  “I wish you would let me make you a cup of tea.”

  She shook her head. “Tell me everything you know about poltergeists.”

  Eric sat beside her on the couch. “They are distinctly different from all other spirit forms, a wicked mixture of negative energies, remnants of anger and hate, too volatile to pass over to higher dimensions. Black to their core.”

  “And they use this dark energy in our world? My world?”

  “It can’t leave the mortal plane. It’s trapped. Their pain wants to cause more pain. It feeds on pain. Like I said, it’s pure evil.”

  She ran a hand through her hair. How could this be happening? An evil spirit in her house! “So what does he want with my children?”