Obsession (The Talisman series)

by Sofia Grey

  God knows how long it would take for her to get a divorce, but that didn’t bother me. We were together. And now, after spending a tedious week in hospital, we were back in Britain and taking some quiet time for ourselves. Suki wanted to escape to the peace and quiet of Trearddur Bay and Jon had offered his house; they would be in Spa a little longer. I was still feverish, but Suki was okay to drive now and we cruised along the country lanes simply enjoying being together.

  It’d been a long day, but I still wanted to stop and take a look at the grey mansion on the way to Jon’s. Suki parked on the grass verge and we admired the view, the setting sun casting long golden shadows across the bay. “That’s weird,” she said. “There’s lights on inside the house.”

  She was right. They looked like proper lights this time, not the flickering candles Dante had lit. “Maybe the new owners have moved in.” I still felt drawn to the place in a way I couldn’t explain. I gazed at it longingly and Suki noticed.

  She smiled as she spoke. “Shall we go and take a look? See if the natives are friendly?” My grin answered her and she took the winding path that led along the side of the house, finding a new black Lexus parked there. I felt nervous. It seemed awkward to just knock on the door and introduce ourselves. And what would I say? “Hi, I’ve been dreaming of your house for years.” Yeah, right. Hello, Crazytown.

  Suki climbed out first and paused, staring at the guy walking out of the side gate. Big, brawny and dark skinned with a mass of black dreadlocks and a beaming white smile, he didn’t hesitate. As I got out of the car, he strolled up and stuck out his hand. “You must be Raphael.”

  Crazytown, here I come. This had to be something to do with Dante.

  “We’ve been expecting you.” His grin looked genuine, his lazy Texan drawl oddly familiar.

  Suki looked as baffled as I felt. “Do you know me?” My voice still rasped; it made me sound like a dedicated thirty-a-day smoker.

  “In a way. Come on inside.” He ushered us into the house, now clean and fresh-looking. Through an open door I saw boxes stacked in a haphazard fashion, books and newspaper-wrapped bundles spilling onto the floor.

  “Coffee? Or would you prefer a beer?”

  I squeezed Suki’s hand and she nodded. “Umm, beer for us, thanks.” We followed him into the kitchen. Everything sparkled, every surface gleamed. It could have been a different house. He reached into an oversized fridge to produce three bottles of Rolling Rock, cracking off the tops with a practised movement.

  “Sara sends her apologies. She had to stay behind. She’ll be here in a couple of days though.” He pulled out a chair from the long pine table and gestured for Suki to sit. We followed suit.

  I took a tentative sip, relishing the cold buzz on my aching throat. Our host looked at me expectantly. “I’m, uh, Josh and this is Suki. But yeah, I’m also known as Raphael. And you are…”

  “Mitch, Sara’s husband.” He laughed and clinked his bottle against mine. “Damn it, we’ve been married over five years and she still surprises the hell outta me. She was adamant I had to be here to welcome you, and here you are.”

  Suki leaned forward, her hand still meshed with mine. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused. How could she know? We only drove by on the spur of the moment.”

  “Well, now, there’s a question.” Leaning back so far his chair scraped against the fridge, he didn’t look surprised at all. “We’ve just bought this place, moving in as you can see, and Sara tells me—insists—that Raphael is coming. That’s all.” He slurped his drink and smiled fondly. “Proper US import this, none of your brewed-under-licence-in-the-EU hogswill.”

  We stared at him and he pulled back to the table. “Sara is special, and not just because she’s my lady. She sees things—flashes, you know. She saw this house and told me we had to buy it. And she saw you.”

  I nodded, speechless.

  He shrugged. “So there you go. I’m kinda hoping you’ll stay to dinner so we can get acquainted?”

  I glanced at Suki. She nodded and spoke for us both. “Thanks, we will.”

  Mitch, despite his night-club-bouncer appearance, turned out to be a successful mover and shaker in the publishing world, owning several high profile publishers of fiction. The mysterious Sara was an artist. He was a good host—attentive and friendly. We both relaxed in his gently amusing company despite the weirdness of the entire situation.

  He served us generous portions of a beef casserole and we settled around the kitchen table like long lost friends. I told him about my encounter with Dante and his assertion that I had died in this house. How he called me Raphael, a name I never used anywhere else. Suki chimed in and told how the estate agent claimed the house was haunted. “So why did you want to buy this place? It’s been empty for years.”

  Mitch chuckled. “Sara came here on holiday as a child, and she fell in love with the place then. She talked for years about the grey house by the sea, and then she had a dream one night, that we bought it. She checked online, found it for sale and we put in a bid.” He shrugged. “We wanted a UK base for her galleries, so this was as good as anywhere and it’s quaint. Old fashioned. I like that.”

  He paused to load his fork again and Suki sneaked in another question. “Does she have precognitive dreams too?”

  “Sometimes.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Most times, it’s just flashes during the day. She’ll be looking out of the window, say, and she’ll see something else entirely. I’ve learned to trust her judgement. She’s never wrong. So when she told me that Raphael would be arriving, I knew he would be.” He smiled. “You’re here, ain’t you?” He gestured towards me with his fork. “Apart from dreaming about the house, do you have visions or anything?”

  I was about to say no, then I remembered when Suki had been locked in the cupboard. I glanced at her and she placed her hand over mine on the table. “Sometimes,” I admitted. “I’d really like to meet Sara.”

  “She’s unwell at the moment.” A shadow crossed Mitch’s face. “But I’m hoping she’ll be here soon. I know she’s keen to see you in person.”

  Waves of tiredness pressed upon me, but I fought them and chatted a little longer. It was a futile effort. I yawned early. Suki fussed over me a little and suggested we leave. At the back of my mind, I knew what was going to happen. It felt like a row of dominoes all tumbling in sequence. Us. The house. The stranger expecting us. My weariness. It came as no surprise when he suggested we stay the night, using the only furnished guest room.

  Suki eyed me strangely as Mitch left the room. “Isn’t this…” I nodded, inhaling, smelling a faint hint of the burning sage leaves.

  Hours later, when I found myself gazing out of the window, I struggled to figure out if this was just the dream again, or if it was now real—the two worlds had crossed, fused and the separating lines were blurred. My fever simmered, instead of the burning heat a few days ago, the window glass felt cool beneath my palm. I inhaled deeply again. Burning sage, but only faint now. I puzzled once again—something was going to happen. Staring out at the moon playing patterns across the sea, I heard the familiar creak and footsteps. This time I knew it was Suki’s arm snaking around me, her face pressing against my skin, her perfume. And this time when I smiled, it was because I knew exactly what she was going to say.

  “Come back to bed. You’re still not well.” She pressed a kiss against my collarbone. “Bed,” she repeated. I smiled some more. At last, it was all playing out. There was still one change to come, and this one I welcomed. I knew—absolutely knew—this was not our last time together. Instead, it was just the start for us. And when I whispered my anxious plea to her, not to leave me, her reply was so much more than I could ever have hoped.

  “Josh, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  ~*~THE END~*~

  CRAVING

  Book 2 in the Talisman series

  Dante

  The muffled hum of rock music flared briefly as the side door opened to the night club; a soft wash of l
ight illuminated us for the briefest moment before we faded to almost black again. I could smell dope; the sweet scent lingering in the air after the smokers had strolled away. They paid us no attention. I probably looked like just another druggie trying to score a hit in a back street alley.

  “Is it true what they say about you?” The hard faced stranger smirked as he took hold of my chin. “You’d sell your own grandmother to make a buck.”

  I struggled against the two gorillas holding me, both arms tight against my back. Rivers of pain poured down from my aching shoulders. “I make a living.” I spat the words out, my mouth constricted by his grasp, fingers digging into the soft flesh under my jaw.

  Footsteps approached.

  “What about your brother?” Alistair had joined us.

  The question threw me. “I don’t have one.” It hurt to speak, but he seemed intent on conversation.

  “Raphael?” His tone mocked me. “Fetch me Raphael and I’ll wipe your slate clean.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He moved a fraction closer. I could smell Aramis after-shave, pungent and sickly; I tried not to gag. His nose almost touched mine. The tension in my arms intensified.

  “If you don’t…. even your famed spirit guides won’t be able to help you. Not where you’re going.”

  About the Author

  Romance author Sofia Grey spends her days managing projects in the corporate world and her nights hanging out with wolf shifters and alpha males. She devours pretty much anything in the fiction line, but she prefers her romances to be hot, and her heroes to have hidden depths. When writing, she enjoys peeling back the layers to expose her characters’ flaws and always makes them work hard for their happy endings.

  Find her at: www.sofiagrey.com and on Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/sofiagrey1