Love & Ghosts: Crescent City Ghost Tours

by Pulkinen, Carrie

  * * *

  Emily woke to the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread, like she did every day. Living above a bakery ensured every morning was a pleasant one, at least until she got out of bed. Her stomach growled, and she rolled to her side, reaching for Sean.

  She found the place where he’d slept cold. Opening her eyes, she let out a sigh and buried her head under a pillow. His scent still lingered on the sheets. But, of course, he was gone. She’d acted like an animal last night. He probably high-tailed it out of there as soon as she fell asleep. What was she thinking coming on to him like that?

  She wasn’t thinking, and that was the problem. There was no happy medium for her. She either overthought everything, sucking the fun right out of her life, or her brain shut down completely. Last night she’d given in to lust and hormones, and now she’d probably never see him again.

  Tossing the pillow aside, she dragged herself out of bed and threw on a pink satin robe. The softness of the fabric gliding across her skin reminded her of Sean’s gentle touch and the not-so-gentle way he’d made love to her. She shivered and rubbed her arms to chase the goose bumps away. Well, at least she’d always have the memory.

  She took a deep breath and stretched her arms over her head. Wait. Was that coffee she smelled? She inhaled again. Though the aroma of the bakery was overwhelming, the distinct scent of roasted coffee beans danced in the air.

  Opening the bedroom door, she stepped into the open living room area and found Sean sitting at the table, sipping from a paper cup and scrolling through something on his phone. When he looked up, he smiled that familiar crooked smile that made her heart stutter.

  “Good morning.” He put his phone on the table and rose to his feet.

  “Hey.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.” He swept her up in his arms and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

  Suddenly very aware of her disheveled appearance and probable morning breath, she pulled away and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “No. It was,” she waved her hand in the air to indicate the smell, “bread.”

  “Does it smell like this every morning?” He offered her a cup of coffee, and she sipped the bitter liquid, thankful for anything to ease the cat litter taste in her mouth.

  “Every morning.” She sat at the table, and he opened a paper bag.

  “The scent is intoxicating. I woke up starving and had to go get something. Their croissants are decadent.” He offered her a pastry and took one for himself.

  She picked at the croissant, savoring the buttery flavor, but her appetite had disappeared. Sean was still here. Waiting for her to wake up. Not just waiting—he’d left to buy breakfast and come back. The knot that had tied in her chest when she woke up alone loosened.

  “Sean, about last night. It was…”

  He grinned. “Magical?”

  “Well, yes, but I was…”

  “Amazing.”

  She blew out a hard breath. “The way I acted last night? That wasn’t me.”

  “It sure felt like you.” He put the croissant down and took her hand.

  “I don’t know what came over me, but I don’t do stuff like that with…other people. I don’t want you to think poorly of me.” She picked at the flaky layers of her pastry, unable to meet his gaze.

  “Emily, look at me.” He hooked a finger under her chin and raised her head to meet his gaze. “I will never think poorly of you. Do you want to know what I really think?”

  She swallowed the dryness out of her mouth and nodded.

  “I think you like me, and I know I like you. And when we’re together, amazing things happen. I think we’re both doing things we don’t normally do because it feels too good to fight it. I don’t want to fight it. And every time things get passionate between us, you tell me it’s not you. But I really hope it is you, because I like it.”

  He took her other hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Do you regret what we did last night? Because I don’t.”

  She looked at their entwined fingers and then at the concern in his eyes. He knew exactly the right words to put her fears at ease. She didn’t want to fight it either. “No, I don’t regret a thing.”

  “Good.” He ran his thumb across her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I would love to stay longer and show you just how much I like spending time with you, but I have a breakfast meeting for a fundraiser at eight.”

  “Breakfast?” She raised her eyebrows and glanced at the croissant on the table.

  “There’s always room for croissants.” He shoved the rest of the pastry into his mouth.

  “Are we still on for tonight?”

  He swallowed his food and took a sip of coffee. “Absolutely. Still just dinner?”

  “I think we’re beyond that, don’t you?”

  “Why don’t you come to my place, and I’ll cook for you?”

  “You cook?”

  “I dabble in the culinary arts from time to time.” He stood and walked behind her chair, massaging her shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Then we can watch a movie and…hang out.”

  She couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips. “You mean Netflix and chill?”

  He pressed his thumbs deeper into her muscles, and her shoulders drooped in relaxation. “Or you can go home after the movie. Whatever you feel like.”

  She doubted going home would cross her mind until the next day. Leaning her head against his stomach, she tilted up to look at him. “Well, it will only be our first official date. I’m not sure how far I’ll be willing to go. You might not even get to second base.”

  Sliding his hands down her arms, he pressed his lips against her ear. “Let’s just see how it goes, hmm?” His warm breath against her skin raised goose bumps on her arms, and when his teeth grazed her lobe, she shivered.

  “Yes. Let’s.”

  He kissed her cheek and stepped away from her chair. “I need to go, but…” His gaze fixed on something behind her, and he ground his teeth together.

  “But?”

  “That chest.” He gestured with his head. “Where did you get it?”

  She followed his gaze to her sister’s box sitting on the counter. Stepping toward it, she ran a protective hand across the top. “An estate sale. My sister found it.”

  “Have you opened it?”

  “No, I don’t have a key.”

  “Good.” He rocked to his toes like he was going to step toward her, but he hesitated. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, and he pressed his lips together in a hard line. Finally, he let out his breath in a huff and marched toward her. “That box is… It could contain negative energy.”

  Oh, not him too. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What? Like a ghost? The woman at the locksmith said evil lived inside it.”

  He reached out a hand to touch it, but he hesitated. “Locksmith? You said you haven’t opened it.”

  “I haven’t. The locksmith was trying to get it open when a woman came running in yelling about it being evil, and she shooed me out the door. I tried to pick the lock myself, but all I managed to do was ruin a ton of hairpins.”

  “Please don’t open it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Do you see these markings carved into the top?” He pointed to the lid but still didn’t touch the box. “Those are ancient symbols for dark…energy. Whoever built this box trapped a lot of negative energy inside it.”

  “You mean a ghost.” And here it started. She’d known his belief in the paranormal would be an issue.

  “No, it’s not a ghost. I have a feeling it’s similar to the type of energy that causes your nightmares. The type you block out of your dreams with salt every night. Only…more concentrated.”

  She reached for the box and pulled it toward her, a fist of possessiveness clutching her heart. There was nothing wrong with this box. “What are you trying to say, Sean?”

  “You need to get rid of it. It’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” She looked
at the wooden container. It might break her toe if she dropped it on her foot, but that was the extent of any danger she could imagine.

  “How long have you had it?”

  “A week or so.”

  “Have you had any headaches since you got it?”

  “No.” Aside from the one she had last night, but that was because she fell asleep using the hard surface as a pillow. There was no dark energy making her head hurt.

  He sighed and put his hand on her hip, pulling her into an embrace, kissing the side of her head. “I would feel much safer if you didn’t have this here. Do you have a storage unit or somewhere…anywhere else you can keep it besides your apartment?”

  His strong arms wrapped around her. His warm, firm body pressed to hers. She couldn’t help but melt into him. How did he manage to distract her so easily? “If it bothers you that much, I’ll get rid of it.”

  “Really?”

  “Consider it gone.”

  The tension in his muscles relaxed. “Thank you. It could be nothing at all, but you’re better safe than sorry when it comes to stuff like this.”

  “I understand. I’ll take it to a dumpster this afternoon.”

  “Do you want me to take it now?”

  “No. I don’t want you to be late for your meeting. Go ahead, and I’ll take care of it. What time do you want me to come over?”

  “How about six?”

  “Sounds great.” She walked him to the door and watched him go down the stairs and around the corner to his car.

  Maybe she should get rid of the box. She had been obsessing over it lately, and it might be better if she didn’t have it in her house, reminding her of everything that happened with her sister. She picked up the chest to move it to the table but hesitated. The smooth wood felt nice against her fingers, and if she put a coat of paint on it, it would look perfect with her décor.

  And it belonged to Jessica. She couldn’t throw it away. There was nothing wrong with this box; Sean was being paranoid. His belief in spirits was already causing problems in their relationship, and they hadn’t even been dating a week.

  She put the box back on the counter. It was her apartment, and if she wanted to keep the box, she would. She’d just put it in the closet when Sean was over. He’d never know the difference.

  Chapter Ten

  Sean tossed a twenty-pound bag of salt onto his shoulder, and a sharp pain sliced through his arm. “Damn it.” Hopefully he didn’t rip the wound open. His favorite nurse had done such a good job sewing him up, he usually forgot the stitches were even there.

  He dropped the bag and lifted his sleeve to examine the damage. It was a little red from placing twenty pounds of pressure on it, but otherwise, it looked fine. He picked up the bag more carefully this time and carried it to the fence.

  He’d never salted his entire house before. He’d never had the need. Learning to control his gift at an early age had allowed him to live a somewhat normal life. Most human spirits weren’t dangerous; they only wanted to be seen. Angry ones could drain people’s energy if they were trying to manifest, but he could always sense when that was happening, and he knew how to stop it. Spirits couldn’t force themselves on him. He had the ability to ignore them.

  And real evil had to be invited in.

  He scooped out some salt and sprinkled it around the fence line. Emily was sensitive to spirits. She had to be, but she refused to accept it. The only kind of energy salt could keep away was spirit energy, and the only way spirits could be giving her nightmares was if she could sense them. Maybe she never developed her ability. Or maybe she buried it a long time ago when the bad experience happened, but it was there.

  And he didn’t want any uninvited guests ruining their evening. He scattered the salt around the backyard fence and up the sides of the house. When he reached the front yard, a static electricity formed in the air, pricking at his skin and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He’d never met a spirit so persistent.

  “As soon as I close this circle, you won’t be able to cross it for a while. So if you have anything new to say, go ahead and say it.” He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath, opening himself up to the spirit. When he opened his eyes, the blonde woman stood before him wearing jeans and a Ghostbusters t-shirt. How ironic.

  She was still translucent, but less so than the last time he saw her. And, thankfully, she projected herself as she’d looked when she was alive. Looking at a spirit in her death state was creepy, even for someone with his experience.

  She lifted a hand toward him and opened her mouth. “Help.” Her voice was a strangled whisper, but at least she could make sound now. Not a very helpful word for her to waste her energy on, but it was a start.

  “I know you want help. What do you want me to do?”

  The image of tears formed in her eyes. He’d always found it strange ghosts could cry. Did they have other bodily functions too? He’d never had a spirit sneeze on him, but the idea of being covered in otherworldly nose goo wasn’t the slightest bit appealing.

  “Help her.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Help who?”

  The spirit tried to speak again, but only a wisp of breath escaped her lips. She was fading, her image flickering as she tried to pull in more energy. The air around him grew so cold he could see his breath, and his skin tingled as her energy attempted to draw from his.

  “No, ma’am. I don’t play those games with ghosts.” He stepped into the salt circle and closed the ring. “You’ll have to get your energy from the atmosphere, not from me. Come back in a week or two and try again. I’m taking a break from spirits.”

  He closed his channel, and the specter disappeared. She was still there, and she’d probably keep following him like she had for the past week, but he was on vacation now. The salt would seep into the earth and keep everything off his property for a solid week or two, so he could focus all of his attention on Emily.

  He burned some sage in each room of the house and the back yard to be sure the space was clear and set up for their date. Would Emily let him sage her apartment after she got rid of the box? He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He should’ve taken it from her right then and there, but he’d been afraid to touch the damn thing.

  Someone with experience in black magic had carved that inscription, but the box still could be empty. Lots of people attempted magic and failed. Hopefully that was the case with Emily’s box. He hadn’t sensed any type of spirit energy in her apartment, but he hadn’t exactly been paying attention that night. And the type of energy people liked to trap in boxes like that wasn’t usually human. A demon would have no trouble hiding from him if it didn’t want him to know it was there.

  Emily said she’d get rid of it, and he’d have to take her word for it. Until he could get her to open up about her own experiences with spirits, there wasn’t much else he could do. And as long as the box stayed locked, it couldn’t hurt anyone.

  * * *

  Emily drove her Prius down St. Charles Avenue into the Garden District. As she turned off a side street and went deeper into the residential area, the houses grew grander and more ornate. She’d been to Madeline’s mansion, the house where Sean must’ve grown up, but she assumed he lived in a big apartment somewhere, not in a mansion of his own.

  She checked the address on her phone and turned into his driveway. Definitely not what she was expecting. The white two-story house had four columns holding up the gallery and floor-to-ceiling windows with dark green shutters. Four steps led up to a wood and glass front door, and a gas lamp illuminated the porch. It could’ve been called modest compared to the neighbor’s homes, but it was still way bigger than she’d expect a single guy would ever need.

  She figured he had money, considering how well-off Madeline was, but his house must’ve cost several million dollars, definitely not something a simple tour guide could afford. A metal gate slid shut behind her as she rolled to a stop behind his Tesla. She must’ve been gaping as she
climbed out of the car and walked toward the porch because he stepped outside and chuckled.

  “You’re in the right place.”

  “Your house is incredible.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against a column. “Thanks. My dad left me a little money when he died.” He wore jeans and a dark green shirt, and an image of what was underneath the shirt flashed in her mind. Heat crept up her neck as she approached and offered him a bottle of wine.

  “Merlot. My favorite.” He took the bottle and pulled her close, placing a tender kiss on her lips. “You look stunning.” His gaze traveled up and down her body, lingering on her feet. “Red looks so good on you.”

  She smoothed her sweater down and adjusted the hem. “Thank you.”

  “And you wore the shoes.”

  “You mentioned you liked them.”

  “I do. It’s going to be hard for me to concentrate on dinner when you look good enough to eat.” He glided his fingers down her arm and pressed his lips to hers. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and smiled, his mouth hovering so close to hers, his breath tickled her skin. Her pulse quickened, and she fought the urge to start undressing him right there on the porch.

  He opened his eyes and straightened. “Very hard. Let’s go inside. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  She stepped into the foyer and set her purse on a table. Her heels clicked on the dark hardwood floor, and it took her a moment to grasp the modern look of the inside contrasting with the antebellum feel the outside projected. The walls were painted a creamy beige with white crown molding, and the modern fixtures and doors gave the illusion she was standing inside a brand-new home.