Double Booked

by CJ Anaya

  “Ahh,” I screamed as I kicked my leg against the door as hard as I could. The pain that shot through my knee effectively broke up the darkness that kept threatening its way in. “Why isn’t this working? Getting distance from a place that’s haunted usually works.”

  “Haunted? Are you— ?”

  “Miguel, I don’t think I have time to explain this to you before it happens, but you have to understand one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I pass out it may look like I’m dead, but I’m not. You got it?”

  “I knew it. You contact the dead just like my mother did.”

  “What?” Now it was my turn to throw an incredulous look his way.

  “I was correct in my assumptions. This is how you verify claims of hauntings. You astral project just as my mother did.”

  There were about a million things I could have said to that and five million things I could have asked, but my fight against this latest summoning was more than kicking my fanny. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay awake.

  “I…can’t fight this. I don’t know why it can still summon me now that we’ve left the restaurant.”

  “Can you make it to the hotel?”

  “Not a chance. At this point, no amount of self-inflicted pain is going to be an effective distraction.” I could feel my eyes fluttering shut as Miguel jerked the car to the right and pulled over.

  “Then we must avoid pain altogether and try something different.”

  Before I had time to register his intent, Miguel slid his right arm around my waist, cradled the side of my face in his left hand and quickly crushed his lips to mine.

  The intimate contact did more than keep me from the brink of unconsciousness. It penetrated my inner core, grasping hold of my senses so thoroughly that all I was capable of focusing on was the sweet pressure of Miguel’s lips as they hungrily embraced mine. He wasn’t soft about it either. Instead, his kisses burned me with the force of their passion, power and possessiveness.

  With every forceful brush of his lips, I felt him claiming me, marking me his though I was certain it was impossible to do so. He coaxed my mouth open and deepened the kiss, pulling me ever closer to those very emotions I was hell bent on avoiding.

  I couldn’t help but run my fingers through his hair and my thumb along the length of his jaw line, feeling empowered when he let out a soft moan and then moved his lips to the hollow spot at my throat.

  I felt his magic reaching out to me again, but this time it exhibited no hesitation. It wrapped itself around me, penetrating my core and warming me from within.

  I gasped at the overpowering sensations shooting through me, and abruptly pulled back, throwing myself all the way against the passenger’s side door, and expelling his magic from my system.

  Miguel and I stared at each other, breathing heavily, neither one of us daring to speak. At least, I didn’t dare speak. I knew if I tried to say anything, it would be to beg Miguel to take me in his arms and kiss me over and over again, and I couldn’t let that happen. My reaction to him was too explosive, too wild and uncontrollable. Kissing him again would send the logical part of my brain into a coma. I’d never recover from it. At least not in time to save myself from getting my heart broken again.

  “You kissed me!” I spluttered.

  Awesome, Analise. Way to state the obvious.

  “Did it work?” Miguel asked.

  “What? Did what work?”

  He grabbed my hand, but pulled back when I flinched at his touch. He studied me carefully for a moment and then moved his hand to mine again, more slowly this time as if trying to calm a skittish colt.

  “Did we break the connection the spirit was trying to make with you?”

  I blinked as his meaning penetrated my battered thought processes. He’d kissed me, thinking it would be enough of a distraction to break the connection between my spirit and the ghost summoning me. I couldn’t believe how badly it hurt, knowing the real reason he’d kissed me like that had nothing to do with how he felt about me.

  On the other hand, I couldn’t believe how liberating it felt to encounter someone who not only knew of another person that spoke with spirits the way I did, but who also seemed to have a healthy understanding of it.

  “"Yeah. That was...that was very effective. I don’t feel it pulling on me any longer.” I swallowed hard and then ran my fingers through my disheveled hair.

  “I think you and I have a little explaining to do, yes?” he asked, giving me one of his ridiculously adorable grins.

  “You first, Miguel.”

  He glanced in the rear view mirror. A troubled look flitted across his face.

  “Miguel?”

  He tore his eyes away from the mirror as I looked behind us. Through the back window, I could see a black SUV slowly approaching.

  “Let’s talk while we drive. I promised you an historical outing to The Strand.”

  I peered at his profile as he put the car in gear and pulled onto the highway. His usually lighthearted look had changed to that of grim determination, and the normally relaxed set of his shoulders now appeared taut and stiff.

  A chilling sense of foreboding crawled its way along the length of my spine. Something about this whole situation did not sit right with me, and if Miguel thought I hadn’t noticed that black SUV following us, he was either crazy or thought I was clueless. He was about to discover that I was not the right girl to underestimate.

  Chapter Four

  “My mother’s gift was never something we broadcast to our neighbors and friends, though she was willing to help anyone who came to her with special requests. This usually included a search for loved ones or getting rid of pesky ghosts,” Miguel began.

  It felt surreal to be talking about another woman who communed with spirits in the same way I did.

  “Did your mother understand where her gift came from?”

  He hesitated before answering, and I had to wonder why. “It has to do with certain bloodlines from specific families in Spain.”

  I narrowed my eyes at that. “But I’m not Spanish.”

  He took his eyes off the road long enough to quirk an eyebrow at me. “You’re quite certain of this?”

  I sighed. “No. When it comes to my own family history, I’m afraid the details are a bit sketchy. I’m adopted. I never met my birth parents.” I decided he didn’t need to know why they gave me up. Revealing their concern for my safety would only encourage him to ask questions I couldn’t answer.

  “I’m nearly one hundred percent certain you are a descendant of one of these bloodlines. Your blonde, nearly white hair is a dead giveaway.”

  I self-consciously raised a hand to my hair, surprised that its unusual coloring would be an indicator. “How many bloodlines are there?”

  “There used to be several, but many were eradicated during the Spanish inquisition. Anyone capable of communing with spirits during those dark times was considered a heretic and put to death. At the moment, there are only two remaining bloodlines left upon this earth. The Salazar line and the Saint-Mauxent line.”

  “And your mother passed away?”

  “Yes.” That one word conveyed an aching pain that had yet to heal.

  I felt deeply disturbed that I’d never had the chance to meet his mother.

  “How long ago did she die? I ask simply because you mentioned her before as if you still spoke with her.”

  “It’s been...a while now.”

  I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he kept curtailing his comments and holding back the complete truth.

  “I find it a strange coincidence that you and I ended up double booked in the same suite. It’s almost as if our encounter was orchestrated, and I’d like to know why.” I searched his face to see what reaction that comment might elicit.

  His face revealed nothing, a sure sign he was hiding something. “I would call our encounter fortunate, a happy twist of fate. It is clear you have had no one to guide you through this
process. My mother was blessed with loved ones capable of training her. They helped her learn how to avoid a forced summoning. I would imagine it more than a little debilitating to be at the mercy of every single spirit who wishes to make contact with you.”

  That was the understatement of the year.

  “I don’t get out much socially, but I usually have more control over when I astral project. I’m not sure why it’s been more difficult to keep the summonings on my own terms since I got here.”

  “It most likely has to do with the island itself. It is considered one of the most haunted areas in most of the United States.”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Why is that?”

  “There was a hurricane here in the year 1900. The devastation and destruction hit the entire island. Six thousand people were killed during the storm and several more went missing. With thousands of lives taken so abruptly, you can imagine why so many spirits might have unfinished business in this area.” Miguel checked his rear view mirror again and grimaced before continuing. “Galveston Island has a bit of a sordid and mysterious history, inhabited by pirates, smugglers and, it’s been rumored, Jack the Ripper. I’m surprised you aren’t being summoned more often to be perfectly honest with you.”

  That did it. From now on, I would pay more attention to researching the areas I traveled to. Not that it would have done me any good. Turning down this assignment hadn’t been an option, but learning the island’s history could have prepared me for what I was getting myself into.

  Of course, no amount of research would have sufficiently prepared me for Miguel Galvez.

  We pulled into a public parking area where Miguel took another look behind us. At this point, I didn’t even care if we were still being followed. I wanted to know more about his mother.

  “Did she always have her gift?”

  Miguel forced his attention back to me and nodded.

  “Born with it. She was an important member in our tiny community, and we all respected her and guarded her secret well. We understood the importance of spirit mediums and their abilities to travel to a different realm, setting unfinished business to rights. It is a heavy responsibility, but I have found that most spirit mediums, such as yourself, rise to the occasion.” He gave me an encouraging smile.

  The guilt I felt for abusing my gift sliced at my own moral compass.

  “There was a time I used my abilities in the way you have described, but I haven’t been that person for a long time.”

  My revelation didn’t seem to surprise him. “What changed?”

  “I honestly don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then I will pry no further until you are ready to discuss it with me. I would like to know how far along you are in your training.”

  “My training?”

  He narrowed his eye and considered me. “That’s right. You have had no one in your life to assist you in this process. How long does it take for you to assimilate in the spirit realm?”

  I marveled again at his expansive knowledge of my gift.

  “It usually takes me anywhere from three to five summonings to see and hear the ghost in question.”

  He nodded. “That is why you are booked here for the entire week then?”

  I nodded.

  He let out a resigned sigh and started the car again. “Then I’m afraid our plans must change. Instead of a leisurely stroll along The Stride, we are going to have to go somewhere else entirely.”

  I narrowed my eyes, puzzled. “Miguel what are you talking about?”

  “Your skills, though powerful, are not yet sharpened. At your age, you should be able to see and hear a spirit within the first summoning. Something is blocking your progress, and we need to remove the block.”

  I swallowed hard. “A block? Even if that were true, what would removing this blockage entail?”

  Miguel placed a hand on mine and squeezed it gently as we continued down the highway. We soon came to an area that I recognized immediately, not because I had ever physically been there, but because the tombstones gave away the purpose of the location.

  I tended to avoid cemeteries with the same fierce determination I used in avoiding coleslaw, relationships, and exercise.

  “Why have you brought me here?” I practically choked.

  He switched the ignition off and turned to me. “We’re getting rid of that block, and the best way to do this is by overloading your system.”

  I gripped either side of my seat, refusing to look at him. “You can’t be serious. Do you have any idea how awful it feels to be summoned by one spirit let alone a few hundred. I won’t be able to handle this.”

  He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I know this is not going to be pleasant, it might even be painful, but you will never lead a normal life if you have no control over these summonings and no way to assimilate into the spirit world within an acceptable time frame.”

  He stepped out of the car while I remained rooted to my seat. If he thought for one second that I was going to enter that awful looking cemetery, he had seriously misjudged my character.

  I’m not a brave person and I’m no hero, nor am I the kind of individual who’s eager to jump out of her comfort zone. I’m simply a freak who gets paid by a crummy newspaper to speak with spirits. Not a glowing recommendation as far as dating went, but seeing as how I’d given up on that social activity, I saw no reason to aspire to loftier goals that might involve a better paying job or possibly landing an actual boyfriend.

  I am a shallow individual. Shallow, shallow, shallow.

  I sang that mantra in my head over and over again as I heard the passenger door open and felt Miguel gently tug my hands from either side of my seat.

  “You must not be afraid, querida. I will be with you the entire time.”

  “I am not getting out of this car.” I gave him a chilly glare, daring him to make a move. I would so take him down if he even tried forcing me out of this vehicle.

  Before I had time to react, Miguel grabbed me around the waist, pulled me forward and then effortlessly swung me up and over with my stomach landing across his shoulder.

  Well, so much for my non-existent ninja skills.

  I immediately began beating his back with my fists.

  “Dammit, Miguel, this is not a game. Do you understand me? Do you have any idea what could happen if too many spirits attempt to contact me at once?”

  Miguel leisurely strolled toward the front gate of the cemetery as if my weight and my wild flailing didn’t affect him in the slightest.

  “I take it this has happened before?”

  “Yes, when I was twelve!” I shuddered. My grandfather had passed away and the visit to the cemetery where we laid his body to rest had been the most traumatizing experience of my life.

  “And when you were bombarded by these spirits, what did you do?”

  "My body shook so badly that my parents thought the summoning had caused a seizure. They did everything they could to bring me out of it, including spraying me with a hose." I freaked out just thinking about it and increased my efforts to get out of Miguel’s grasp.

  I thought I heard Miguel tsk in disapproval. “Barbaric and completely uncalled for. However, it lends credence to my theory.”

  “Theory?” I tried to push up off his shoulders but fell forward when Miguel lightly leapt over a small bush.

  “Your block is all mental,” he continued. “That experience scared you so thoroughly that you now subconsciously fight against the summoning, lengthening the process. I suppose we cannot blame your parents for their ignorance. In truth, we must thank them for their unconditional love and patience in the face of such a bewildering situation. They could have just as easily placed you in a psych ward when your abilities began cropping up and left you alone for the rest of your life.”

  “Wow! Thanks for that. Has anybody ever leveled with you on how much of a complete and total jerk you are?”

  “Not to my face.”

  “
Put me down, and I’ll be happy to remedy that for you.” I beat his back again while rearing up, attempting a swift kick to his tender parts. He tightened his grip, locking my legs in place. I felt him lightly swat me on my butt.

  “Did you just spank me?”

  “You’re misbehaving!” He said it like my behavior justified his actions.

  I let out a few choice expletives that produced a lighthearted laugh from my captor and a comment about how surprising it was to find a woman who possessed a vocabulary rivaling that of the most seasoned sailor. I wasn’t sure if I felt flattered or chagrined. Either way, my anger had reached a boiling point. I threw one more wicked punch into his back before he stopped moving.

  “I’m going to set you down now, but only if you promise to refrain from punching me in the face.”

  “I promise nothing. Guess you’ll just have to take your chances you filthy Spaniard.”

  "I’m not above using whatever means necessary to deter you from your hostile behavior, and since I already have firsthand knowledge of the best way to distract you, I’m fairly certain I’ll survive the outcome." He slowly allowed me to slide down the length of his chest, but held me just under the seat of my dress as our eyes met. “Do I need to kiss you again, Analise?”

  I looked at him aghast. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. He looked like a man on the hunt, and he had me in his sights. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve dared to do in order to get close to you, Analise.”

  Huh? Exactly how long had he been trying to get close to me?

  He inched his lips a small space from mine, and heaven help me, I couldn’t form one single rational protest to save myself from what was sure to be the most amazing kiss I’d ever received.

  Unfortunately, er, I mean, fortunately for me, my gift chose that exact moment to kick in. The full force of what felt like hundreds of spirits pulling on my soul made my body stiffen in pain. I let out a small cry and bit my lip to stay conscious. The coppery tinge of blood assaulted my taste buds.