To Free a Phantom (Spirit Chasers Book 3)

by Carrie Pulkinen

  “Oh, hell.” He hardened in her grasp, and he pulled her closer, planting a passionate kiss on her lips. If this was what she needed, right here, right now, he would give it to her. He’d give her anything.

  With a hand on his shoulder, she pushed him away, never releasing her hold on his dick. “If you really want me, you should take me right now.” She shoved him into a chair and straddled him, hiking her skirt up around her hips.

  Pulling her panties aside, she sheathed him, her wet warmth enveloping him, scattering his thoughts to the wind in a million microscopic pieces. Not that he had time to think. She rode him hard and fast as if she were a completely different woman than the timid angel he’d made love to days before. She gripped the back of the chair and moaned as she came, and his own orgasm ripped through his body, turning his muscles to jelly.

  She let out a contented sigh before rising to her feet and straightening her clothes. Turning to the mirror, she ran her fingers beneath her eyes and around her lips to fix her makeup.

  Dazed and a little breathless, Gage buttoned his pants and watched her as she gazed at her own reflection in the mirror. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

  She looked at her watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  “I’m on my lunch break.” He stepped behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  He caught her gaze in the reflection, and she flashed a tight-lipped smile. She may have forgiven him, but she hadn’t forgotten. “I promise to make it up to you.”

  She pulled from his embrace. “You better get back to the office. You don’t want to lose your job too.”

  “All right. I’ll see you at seven?”

  She narrowed her eyes at her purse sitting on the table. “Text me the time. I’ve got a lot to do here, and I don’t want to forget.”

  “Okay.” He eyed her skeptically. She was acting strange, but he obliged and texted her. I will make it up to you. See you at my place at seven.

  She pulled the phone from her purse and typed a response. I’ll be there. “Now I’ll remember.”

  “I hope so.” What was going on with her? “Are we good now?”

  “Of course.”

  Her half-smile was less than convincing, and when he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek, she didn’t turn to him. Didn’t kiss him back. He released his hold, and she busied herself cleaning the makeup mess. “I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you later.”

  He hesitated to leave. Two nights ago, she’d been afraid she was too inexperienced for him, and now she’d ravished him in an almost animalistic act of passion. Not that he was complaining, but what had gotten into her? “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “Just peachy.” She gave him another half-smile. “Bye, Gage.”

  “Bye, Erica.”

  He shuffled across the stage and up the aisle to the exit. No spirits tried to get his attention on his way out of the theater. Shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight, he jogged through the parking lot and slid into his Jeep. That encounter didn’t go anything like he’d planned. Her behavior had been…confounding. Had she really forgiven him, or was she trying to prove a point?

  She had every right to be angry with him. Tonight, he’d make it up to her. He’d make a candle-lit dinner in his apartment, and screw the advice columns, he’d buy her flowers too. Then he’d tell her how he felt, and hopefully she’d say she felt the same. No more rules. No more games. He would follow his gut and get his woman.

  Erica opened her eyes and lifted her head from the desk. Had she fallen asleep in the theater? She rubbed the sore spot on her temple and gazed into the mirror. Her skin felt dry and flaky, as if she’d washed it with hand soap and forgotten to moisturize. She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty p.m.

  “What the hell? How did I lose seven hours?” She tapped on the mirror. “Colette?”

  The ghostly image appeared, though her translucence made her barely visible. “What are you still doing here?”

  Erica opened her mouth to speak, but she closed it. What was she doing there? She’d gotten to the theater around ten that morning. Discussed her plans with Colette, and then… What? “I’m not sure. I think I fell asleep.”

  “I’m not surprised. You were very busy today. You’d best check your messages and go home. The scripts will be here tomorrow, and we’ve got rehearsals scheduled every night until show time.”

  She blinked, her mind reeling as she tried to connect the pieces of what the spirit was saying. “Wait. We do? How are the scripts getting here tomorrow? I haven’t ordered them.” Or had she? A vague memory, as translucent as the spirit before her, flashed in her mind, but she couldn’t grab onto it long enough to make it seem real.

  Colette shook her head. “You ordered them this afternoon, dear. Overnight shipping. Well worth the cost, if you ask me.”

  Okay, so that part was real. Why couldn’t she hold on to the memory? “And the rehearsals?”

  “E-mails sent out to everyone. All the actors are on board. I really must recharge now. Have a good night.”

  The ghost faded until only Erica’s sallow reflection stared back at her. Had she really done all that today? The entire day seemed like a fog in her mind. She rose from the chair and shuffled to her office. Pulling up her theater e-mail account, she found a group e-mail sent to all of her kids requiring rehearsals five nights a week plus Saturday afternoons.

  A vague memory of typing the message flitted through her mind, but nothing solid would form. The proof she’d done it stared her in the face, though. Was she going crazy?

  What had the kids said about Mrs. Spencer? That she didn’t know upstage from down by the time her life had ended. Was something in the theater affecting her? Mold? Asbestos? Maybe the so-called friendly spirits weren’t as friendly as Gage thought. She said hello to them every morning, and they hadn’t caused her any more problems… Unless they were making her brain foggy.

  She could ask Gage, but… An image of him standing in the wing flashed through her mind, and her mouth went dry. Of him sitting in the chair, her straddling his lap. She shook her head. That had to be a dream. She may not remember sending an e-mail, but she would never forget having sex with Gage.

  She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She’d been spending way too much time in this place. Locking the doors as she exited, she pulled out her phone and checked the screen. Her heart fluttered. Gage had messaged her. I will make it up to you. See you at my place at seven.

  And, apparently, she’d responded. I’ll be there.

  When had she typed that message? Was she going out of her mind? Could he really have stopped by the theater today and apologized? She pictured herself standing in front of the mirror, Gage standing behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

  That couldn’t have happened, because that would mean the rest of her dream had happened too. And there was absolutely no way her dream had been real. She was furious with Gage for not calling. She wouldn’t have done that.

  She glanced at his text again and sat in her car, slamming the door. He had a lot of explaining to do if he planned to make it up to her. Putting the car in drive, she slowly pulled out of the parking lot. Maybe she shouldn’t go. Let him see how it felt to be stood up. She could go home, not answer the phone when he called to see why she didn’t show.

  Then again, what would that prove? That she could be just as stubborn as him? And he hadn’t exactly stood her up, had he? He simply hadn’t called. Her stomach sank. She hadn’t called him either. If he wanted to make it up to her, she at least owed him a chance to explain.

  She drove to his apartment and knocked on the door.

  Gage grinned as he opened it, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her across the threshold. His masculine, musky scent filled her senses, the warmth of his embrace melting the tension in her muscles. She allowed herself five seconds of pleasure in his arms before pushing him away
. “Stop.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

  The dream she’d had of him in the theater grew clearer in her mind, flushing her cheeks with heat. Fisting her hands at her sides, she chewed the inside of her cheek as she chose her words. “You can’t sleep with me, ignore me for two days, and then act like everything’s okay. You at least owe me an apology…and an explanation.”

  He dropped his arms by his sides. “I gave you both this afternoon, but I’ll say it again.” Stepping toward her, he rubbed his hands on her shoulders. “I was so afraid of screwing this up, of scaring you away, I took some very, very bad advice from Chelsea of all people. She convinced me not to call so I wouldn’t seem too clingy. She said I should give you time to process what happened between us, and even though I knew in my heart I should have called you, I didn’t.” He took her hands in his. “It’s not an excuse…just an explanation. I’m sorry, Erica. Please forgive me for my temporary lapse in judgement. It won’t happen again.”

  “I…” She stepped back, pulling her hands from his grasp. His words sounded so familiar, like she’d heard this excuse before. Her thoughts scrambled, and she couldn’t focus on exactly what she’d heard, but… Had he really been at the theater this afternoon, or was this simply a case of déjà vu? If he was at the theater, did she really…? She rubbed her temples. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you okay?” The corner of his mouth pulled into a crooked smile. “I thought after you pushed me into a chair and had your way with me, all was forgiven.”

  Her stomach dropped. “I did not have my way with you, Gage. What are you talking about?” She couldn’t have. She’d never be so bold. It was a dream. It had to be.

  His eyes tightened with concern. “Why don’t you come sit down, and I’ll get you a glass of water. You’re looking a little pale.”

  “I don’t want to sit down.”

  “I made dinner. Look.” He gestured toward the table. A bouquet of pink roses acted as a centerpiece with candles on either side.

  The savory scent of thyme floated in the air, and she shuffled toward the table in a daze. She peered at the candles, and her chest tightened. He hadn’t forgotten her aversion to open flames; the candles were flickering LEDs.

  If she’d been in her right mind, she’d have accepted his apology, sat down at the table, and had a nice dinner with him. But something was very wrong.

  She rested a hand on the back of the chair. “You’re saying you came to the theater this afternoon?”

  “Yes. Don’t you remember?”

  She backed toward the door. She did remember, but she didn’t at the same time. Everything…her memories of the entire day were cast in a haze. “I…don’t know.”

  He reached for her but let his hand drop to his side when she recoiled. “We didn’t use a condom. Are you on birth control?”

  “I…yes, I am, but…” She fumbled with the doorknob. She needed to leave. To get away from Gage and figure out for herself if the things he said were true. Please don’t let them be true. The memory grew more vivid in her mind, the haze dissipating like a fog burning off the damp grass in the sunlight. If she had done those things, she hadn’t been in control of herself.

  “Please don’t leave.”

  She pulled the door open. “I’m sorry, Gage. I need to think.”

  He caught her by the hand. “What’s going on?”

  She slipped from his grasp and paused on the porch. “Can ghosts…control you?”

  “They can get inside your head if they’re strong enough.” He stepped through the doorway and lowered his voice. “Are you having trouble with the spirits at the theater?”

  Her chest felt like a solid block of ice that quickly spread through her veins. One of the so-called friendly spirits had been controlling her mind. It was the only explanation. “I have to go.”

  She turned on her heel and darted through the parking lot. Playing the foggy memories of the day through her mind on the short drive home, she still couldn’t comprehend what had happened to her.

  She’d ordered scripts she wasn’t sure she wanted to order. Planned rehearsals for a play she hadn’t yet fully committed to. Had sex with Gage in the theater wing. Nausea churned in her stomach. What must he think of me now?

  Why would Leroy or Stanley, male stagehands who died ages ago, make her do those things? They rarely showed themselves to her, and once she acknowledged their presence, they hadn’t messed with the lights or caused any more problems. Unless they were pretending to be someone they weren’t. Could ghosts even do that? Or maybe Colette… No, she was trapped inside the mirror. What could she do?

  Erica had been able to see ghosts since she was a kid, and they’d never gotten inside her head before. Why would they start now?

  She was stressed. That’s all it was. People acted out of character in extreme circumstances all the time. Though her circumstances weren’t that extreme—lord knew she’d been through much worse—surely the stress of the situation was getting to her.

  But what she’d done with Gage… Her abdomen tightened as a flush of hot humiliation spread through her body, melting the ice in her veins. How could she face him again?

  Chapter Twelve

  What the hell? Gage dropped into a chair and leaned his elbows on the table. He’d been able to dismiss Erica’s peculiar behavior at the theater for the sheer relief that she’d forgiven him…or so he thought. But for her to not remember him being there, much less having sex with him, was beyond strange. The unexpected way she’d acted. The bizarre look in her eyes as she’d prowled toward him… Erica wasn’t the type to prowl.

  It was almost as if she’d been…possessed.

  Shit. He shot out of the chair and raced to his bookcase. Pulling volume after volume of paranormal references off the shelves, he stacked them on the coffee table and began his research. He scoured the texts, searching for anything that resembled what had happened to Erica that afternoon. After an hour of reading, pausing only to turn the damn oven off before he burned the place down—so much for that candle-lit dinner—he’d come to one conclusion. She hadn’t been possessed by a demon.

  Too many tell-tale signs of demon possession hadn’t been present in Erica. Her eyes hadn’t glazed or gotten glossy…they’d been hungry. Her movements had been fluid like whatever was controlling her had experience with a human form. That meant whatever got inside her had been human once itself.

  But could a ghost exert that much control over a living being? He’d seen the long-term effects channeling too many spirits could have on a medium, but he’d never witnessed anything like what he’d seen this afternoon. Unfortunately, the one person who could answer his questions was vacationing seven thousand miles away. Allison had told him to call her if anything urgent came up with D.A.P.S…

  He checked the clock. Eight-thirty p.m. What time would it be in Fiji? Twelve-thirty tomorrow? One-thirty? It was afternoon, anyway. Hopefully she’d have her phone on her. He dialed her number and prayed the call would go through.

  “Hi, Gage.” Allison’s cheerful voice rang in his ear.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you on your vacation.”

  “It’s no problem. We just finished lunch. What’s up?”

  He let out a hard breath. “I need some psychic advice.”

  She chuckled. “I can’t do readings over the phone. You know my ability doesn’t work that way.”

  He switched the phone to his other ear. “Not that kind of advice. I have this…friend. Her name’s Erica.”

  “Oh? A girlfriend?” Her voice raised an octave as if she were smiling.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Anyway…Is it possible for a spirit to possess someone? I’m not talking about channeling like you do. Not communication through a living person, but can they actually make a living person do and say things against their will?”

  She paused, the humor draining from her voice. “It’s possible. The ghost would have to be incredibly strong though.”

&nb
sp; He shot to his feet and paced the living room. “Has it ever happened to you?”

  “Logan’s ghost got inside my head, remember? I might’ve jumped out the window if you guys hadn’t stopped me. What happened to Erica?”

  “Nothing dangerous like that.” He plucked a rose from the vase and pressed the soft petals against his nose. The sweet smell tickled his senses, reminding him of the floral scent of Erica’s hair. “She was acting…out of character today. She did some things I don’t think she’d normally do.”

  “Like what?”

  His face flushed with heat, and he returned the rose to the vase and resumed pacing. “I’d rather not say.”

  She cleared her throat. “Can I ask where it happened?”

  “Remember the old theater we investigated on Center Street? She owns it now.”

  “I remember that place. Leroy and Stanley were the ghosts we encountered there, right?”

  He ran a finger over the spines on his bookshelf, pausing on a title by Nora Roberts. “Yeah.”

  “They aren’t strong enough to control someone like that. Maybe the former owner is there now?”

  “I don’t think so. Erica would have told me that. She can see spirits.”

  Allison paused. “If she’s a medium, she should be able to figure out what happened to her.”

  Gage sighed. “She’s a medium, but she doesn’t know how to control it. Says she can only see the spirits if they show themselves to her. She’s owned the place for two months and didn’t know it was haunted until I told her.”

  “Oh, wow. Well, I’ll be happy to check it out for her when we get back in town. Do you think you can handle it until then?”

  He chuckled. “I can handle anything.” Hopefully.

  “Based on what you’ve told me of the situation, all I can say for certain is that it’s possible a strong spirit got ahold of her, especially if she can’t control her psychic abilities. That makes her more susceptible to possession. But it’s also possible she was acting out of character for another non-supernatural reason.”