by S. K. Yule
“Johnny Ralston.”
“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
There was a long pause, and for a moment she thought her caller had hung up. “No. I got your number from Scarlett Young. I was wondering if I could schedule a session with you?”
“Oh. Um, I was actually planning to take some time off.”
Which wasn’t a lie. With everything that had happened with Cyrus, Stephen, and the new mystery man, she was ready to take some time off and figure things out.
“Could you possibly make an exception?”
Isabelle sighed. “Why do you want a session with me?”
“I lost someone special. I thought maybe you could help me talk to her.”
She was such a sucker. She never could turn down someone in pain. “Are you located close to Landings?”
“Yes. Maybe I could come to your place?”
“It’s easier for me to make contact during a session if I’m surrounded by a setting occupied by the departed.”
“To tell you the truth, I only arrived in town yesterday, and I don’t have a permanent address yet.”
She sighed again. If the man had recently moved, he obviously wouldn’t be living in a place occupied by the spirit anyway. Her main hesitation, at the moment, was caused by the fact that she didn’t know him.
Maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe a session here would provide a much-needed distraction. She was adept at reading others. His voice was soothing and calm. He didn’t set off any warning bells. Besides, in the past when she’d held occasional sessions in her home, she’d call Nina to let her know. Once the session was over, she’d let her friend know all was well, but if Nina didn’t hear from Isabelle within a couple hours, she’d check up on her.
“Please. This is important.” His quiet voice was laced with sincerity.
She silently sighed and propped the phone in the crook between her ear and shoulder. “How about tomorrow night at six?”
“That works for me. What’s your address?”
She gave him her address and hung up the phone. Now what have I gotten myself into? She should have told him no. Technically, she had. She just hadn’t stuck with it. For the next few days, the phone could ring off the hook if it liked. The machine could get it, and if there was anyone on the other end whom she wanted to talk to—basically, only Nina—she’d pick up.
Isabelle’s stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. Glancing at the clock, she groaned. Noon already. Damn, she was going to have to get some groceries. She picked up the phone, dialed the local pizza place, and ordered some pasta with extra cheese and breadsticks.
She was going to lie on her butt and do nothing until her session tomorrow night. She deserved it and was too depressed to do anything else anyway. After allowing herself to wallow in her self-pity, she’d pick herself up and get back into the game of life.
Chapter Ten
Cyrus couldn’t deny that he’d been disappointed when Izzy hadn’t recognized him on the phone yesterday, despite the fact it was a ridiculous notion. He did, after all, have a new voice. Still, a part of him had hoped she’d realize it was him. While he wished he hadn’t had to lie to her, he didn’t feel guilty, since he’d done it to protect her. Besides, he had lost someone special, and Izzy definitely could help him talk to her since she was that someone.
It was only five when he pulled up in front of Izzy’s. His appointment with her wasn’t for another hour, but he didn’t care. He wanted to see her. He made a U-turn and parked the car half a block down the street so she wouldn’t notice it. She might not recognize him, but the car was another story altogether.
He didn’t know exactly how this evening would play out, but he was certain that he would not leave Izzy alone again—not while the Havoc was around. To say that he’d been beside himself, thinking that the bastard might pay her another visit while he wasn’t there to protect her, was putting it mildly.
It took spirits some time to recuperate from an attempted possession, and he figured she was safe for a couple of days. But the Havoc—Stephen, she’d called him—had been fairly strong, and Cyrus didn’t know exactly how much time it would take Stephen to regain all his strength and come after Izzy again. And Cyrus had no doubt that he would go after her again.
The only way Cyrus could kill Stephen on his own was to trap him inside the body he was possessing and hold him in it until the body died. Since Izzy would also die in the process—and that was not an option—Cyrus had to come up with another plan. And he had an idea.
He’d learned of Izzy’s witch friend, Nina. It hadn’t been hard to get the information from the diner he’d eaten at—some throwback to the sixties, but with surprisingly delicious food. Apparently, Izzy was some kind of celebrity. Everyone knew her there, and everyone had an opinion about what she did…good or bad. The waitress seemed to be fond of Izzy, and when she’d brought up the topic of Izzy’s witch friend, he’d casually inquired.
While he wasn’t particularly fond of witches after what Lily had done to him, Cyrus was hoping Nina could help him out. After all, they held a common interest—keeping Izzy safe. If his plan worked, the risk to Izzy would be slight. However, when she found out what his plan was, she wouldn’t like it. But that didn’t matter. He refused to let Stephen get to her again. Fear and pain ripped through his chest at the thought. Cyrus would never allow that to happen, no matter what he had to do. He would get rid of Stephen forever.
All-in-all, his plan was a solid one, but he couldn’t carry it out without the witch. He hoped he could convince her to help him. If she cared about Izzy at all, surely she’d do anything to keep her safe. The problem was convincing Nina to trust him enough to believe that what he was asking her to do would be in Izzy’s best interests.
Cyrus looked at the green glow of the clock on the dashboard. Five-thirty. Close enough.
He opened the car door and stepped out into the brisk evening breeze. The sky was overcast and cloudy. No surprise there. He straightened his leather jacket and walked down the street toward Izzy’s green-sided house. He stood in front of the ebony door for a moment, contemplating.
He’d been in such a hurry to see her again, yet now he was apprehensive. Some tinge of foreboding told him things weren’t going to go as he had planned them. The problem with those fucking little warnings? They were only that…warnings with no useful information. Though, to be fair, those warnings had saved his ass on more than one occasion.
Cyrus let out a low, irritated growl and punched the doorbell with his finger.
* * * *
Isabelle dressed in a long black skirt and green top and brushed her hair up into a messy bun. She was finishing up when the doorbell rang. Her client was early.
She slipped on a pair of black boots and made her way down the hall to answer the door. Her breath hitched when her visitor was revealed. He reminded her of the man she had dreamed of last night, the one whom Cyrus had morphed into. What the hell was going on?
She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Isabelle.”
The spark of electricity that ran through her arm when they touched made her jump.
“Hello Izz-Isabelle. I’m Johnny.”
Something was strange here. He seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t figure out why. It was as if she’d met him before. Was it simply one of those weird déjà vu moments?
She stepped aside to let him in, watching him swagger into her living room. Good-looking men always seemed to swagger, and, damn, Johnny was certainly good-looking.
As she checked out Johnny’s backside, her heart thumped. She rolled her eyes and closed the door. So unprofessional. He’s not a piece of meat.
Isabelle calmed her hormones and followed Johnny into the living room. “Please sit,” she said, motioning to the leather couch.
After taking his jacket off and draping it over the back, he took a seat on the couch.
She sat beside him, careful to leave a modest amount of dista
nce between them. “Tell me about who you lost.”
“She was only in my life a short time, but she left an impression. Classically beautiful, charming, and damned stubborn.”
“Okay.”
This was odd. Johnny was being vague. Usually the first thing someone told her in a session was the departed loved one’s name. She didn’t need to know much about a spirit to invite one in, it was true, but she preferred to have an idea about the character of the potential guest in her body. Sometimes—many times—there was more than one spirit around at any given time, and she needed to make sure to let the right one in. Not only was Johnny being vague, but the way he watched her was…unsettling. His green eyes stared out from under half-closed, thick-lashed lids. It was a sexy, smoldering gaze that most men probably had to practice to get right. In Johnny’s case, it appeared to be a natural talent.
Isabelle cleared her throat. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”
Once she’d lit the candles she’d placed on the coffee table earlier, dimmed the lights and sat back down next to Johnny, Isabelle pulled a small vial of anchoring potion from her skirt and drank it down. “I’m going to invite her in now.”
* * * *
When he and Izzy had touched earlier, Cyrus was certain she’d felt the spark of recognition between them. Unfortunately, she must have taken it as a sign of awareness or attraction instead of familiarity.
It had only been a few days since they were together, but he’d missed the spark of anger in her eyes when he rubbed her the wrong way and the sting of her sexy, smart mouth when she let him have it. His body twitched in anticipation of claiming her again, and he took a deep, steady breath. He couldn’t jump her. She thought he was someone else.
He watched her instead, his beautiful Izzy, with her eyes closed in concentration. Her pale skin glowed in the flicker of the candlelight. Because Cyrus could see spirits, he knew there were none present, but he let her continue, seeing she was not in any danger. He hoped she wouldn’t find it overly strange that his spirit wouldn’t show—how could she, when she was sitting right beside him? Izzy sat motionless, chanting under her breath.
Ten minutes passed, and he wondered how long it would take before she gave up. After five more minutes, he was about to say something when the atmosphere in the room changed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and, out of instinct, he scanned the room looking for the Havoc. He couldn’t find anything threatening, but knew, without a doubt, trouble was coming for Izzy.
He reached for her just as a black and red spirit materialized, hovering under the ceiling. Before Cyrus’s skin could make contact with hers, the mist dove into her body. Izzy’s eyes flew wide, she gasped, and jerked hard before falling sideways.
Cyrus caught her before she hit the floor and gently eased her onto the couch. A fine sheen of sweat covered her quivering body, and she moaned.
Son of a bitch! That bastard, Stephen, was back already, and if it hadn’t been for Cyrus, the Havoc wouldn’t have carte blanche of her body. “Hang on, baby. I’m coming,” he muttered.
Cyrus leaned back in a position that would keep his body from falling to the floor when he left it, then seeped out of Johnny’s empty shell and into Izzy.
Stephen’s red and black soul was already wrapped tightly around Izzy’s, dimming the intensity of its light. Izzy’s screams echoed inside of her.
Rage filled Cyrus, and his dark blue form expanded and swooped down on Stephen, jerking him away from his target. The Havoc screamed and made another go for Izzy. Cyrus’s anger exploded when he saw her soul, crouched and quivering in fear. Would the emotional pain be too much for her?
When a Havoc tried to possess someone’s soul and body, the experience was similar to rape. The main difference was the absence of the physical trauma to the outside of the body. The psychological trauma was the same.
No! Izzy is strong. She’d be okay. He had to focus on what needed to be done—evicting Stephen’s ass once again. This time he’d make it hurt more.
He squeezed his form around Stephen’s until the spirit screamed in pain. “Stay away from my woman, Havoc.”
Stephen struggled once again, black and red tendrils creeping out from the edges of dark blue. “She’s mine, demon. I will have her.”
Impressive. Stephen had figured out exactly who and what Cyrus was, yet still had the balls to fight him. He couldn’t be stupid enough to think he’d win, though, could he?
Cyrus tightened his hold. “Get out and don’t come back. If you come near her again, you won’t like the outcome.”
Cyrus ripped at Stephen’s pulsing soul, inflicting as much damage as possible and causing Stephen to let loose another furious cry as he was tossed out of Izzy’s body.
Satisfied that Stephen wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, Cyrus floated toward Izzy’s still crouching, quivering soul. It was dimmer than he remembered. He wrapped himself around her soul, trying to soothe it, but Izzy cried out. Could it be she didn’t understand who he was?
* * * *
The same dark blue soul that had saved her at Scarlett’s had saved her again, and now it wrapped itself around her soul as if it wanted to comfort her.
Something familiar slid through her—no, someone. Cyrus? How was that possible?
But it was. The bright white of her soul blended with the dark blue of his, and they glowed together as one, iridescent blue spilling everywhere.
“I have to go now, Izzy. You’ll be okay. You’re strong.”
The dark blue light flickered, as if caressing her, then receded from her altogether.
It took Isabelle a moment to realize that the moaning she heard was coming from her own lips. She opened her eyes and slowly sat up. There was no sign of Johnny. She was alone.
What the hell had happened? How had Cyrus saved her from Stephen when he wasn’t even here?
Johnny walked back into the room carrying a glass of water, which he handed to her. She took it and sipped it while eyeing him carefully as he sat next to her. His golden skin had a pallor about it now.
A nearly unnoticeable shadow passed over his eyes for a second. She’d seen the same thing happen before with Cyrus’s eyes.
Izzy dropped the water. No. It wasn’t possible. “Cyrus?” she whispered, covering her heart with her palm.
* * * *
Cyrus would have to tell her everything now. She’d hate him, but if he could protect her, that was all that mattered. As long as she was safe, he’d handle her loathing him…maybe.
He’d have to move fast. Put his plan in motion and get rid of Stephen for good. Izzy was in too much danger while that damn bastard was free to possess her.
But if he got rid of Stephen, she’d have no further need of him.
Cyrus’s gut clenched. He was stuck. Totally fucked. The alternative was unacceptable. He couldn’t let Stephen remain a threat, so Izzy would have no other choice but to allow Cyrus to stay in her life.
He looked at Izzy. “Yes, it’s me.”
Her eyes were wide, confused like a starved animal deciding whether to trust the hand trying to feed it, bite it, or run away. “How did…what…? I don’t understand.”
“I guess you’re going to get your explanation after all, Izzy.”
“My explanation?”
“Of how I can do what I do.”
“Now I understand my dream.”
She hugged her arms around her middle and rocked back and forth.
“What dream?”
“I had a dream last night. You were in it. Well, the first you… Then the new you.” She shook her head. “Ugh! You know what I mean.”
“I understand. Go on.”
“You were there. The first you, I mean, but suddenly your face morphed into…”
“Into the new me?”
She nodded. “Please. My brain is going to explode if you don’t explain how you are in a different body and how you saved me from Stephen.”
She took a deep breath and waite
d.
“I’m a demon,” he revealed.
Her mouth gaped open, and he put his hands palm up, silently pleading for her to listen to him before judging him.
When she calmed, he continued. “I’m an Akem soul-demon, which means I take souls.”
“You steal other people’s souls?” Her voice squeaked. “But how can you do that?”
He watched her closely, afraid she might run screaming from the room at any moment. But she didn’t. That was one of the things he admired most about her. His Izzy had courage.
My Izzy?
“I only take the souls of murderers, rapists, child molesters, or the like,” he proclaimed. “I don’t take the souls of the innocent. The Creod soul-demons do that.” He went on to explain to her the difference between his kind and the Creod. He also told her the story of how he had been bound by Lily for fifty years. “My kind is not widely known. Those who are aware of us do not discriminate between Akem and Creod. They believe we are all the same—all abominations.”
“You can survive outside a body?”
“Yes, but the body I’m residing in at the time can only survive for about five minutes without me in it, before it dies permanently. Any body I occupy can be killed in the same way as any human can. If that happens, I have to find another one, which is why I’m in a new one now, by the way. It turns out that Jimmy, the owner of my previous body, had more enemies than I thought. When I stopped for gas earlier, I was stabbed through the heart. Fortunately for me, Johnny here, was worse than Jimmy. I happily rid him of his body.”
“How do you know these souls you steal are evil? You can’t possibly research them all, if you jump from one to the other like you said.”
“I can read minds, Izzy. That’s how I can tell.”
“Oh my God. You can read my mind?”
Cyrus shook his head. “No. I cannot read yours. Never have been able to.” He shrugged. “Don’t know why. That’s never happened before.”
He smiled as relief washed over her beautiful face.
“What do you look like when you don’t have a body?” she asked.
He reached for her hands, thankful she didn’t pull away from him when he took them in his own. “You already know the answer to that.”
