Patrick didn’t know how those souls got split when the person died. He could only speculate. Maybe they felt they still had much to accomplish, or they’d found the good in themselves too close to the time when they died. Or death came too early.
He took a deep breath, hearing his breath come out as a snore, but unable to stop it. He continued to drift, his thoughts full of Alaina and her body pressed against his.
Something tickled his nose. He rubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. Damn fly. Why couldn’t it leave him alone? Giggling filtered through his irritated haze. He opened one eye to see Alaina holding a red feather pen.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s time to work.” She leaned forward with the pen, giving him a nice shot of cleavage. If he kept staring, he wouldn’t be able to get up for a little while.
“Leave me alone,” he managed, closing his eyes when he really wanted to continue to take in her breasts.
“No. Sorry. Don’t make me get ice cubes. Mick said to tell you the guys will be here in a few minutes. He didn’t think you’d want to be sleeping.” She tickled him again. He breathed in, getting a nose full of feather.
Pushing the feather away, he sat up, glad for the blanket still covering his lower body. “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”
“It wasn’t as long as you think. The guys rearranged their schedules to get here as soon as they could. They’re excited and want to get started. At least that’s what Mick said.” She turned and sat at the makeshift desk made out of a TV table.
He leaned against the back of the couch, watching her while he did his best to shake off the urge to go back to sleep. She shut down her computer and then bent over to pick up the files and papers on the floor, giving him a terrific view of her butt. The next thing he knew, a pillow whacked his chest.
Alaina reached over to retrieve her weapon from his lap. He snagged her wrist. Thankfully he grabbed the uninjured one. The momentary fear that he’d hurt her caused him to falter, and she fell against him, landing in his lap. Her head ended up close to his, her breath brushing his cheek.
He turned his head, wanting more than anything to kiss her.
Mick burst into the room, followed by two other members of his crew. Alaina jumped up as if his lap had caught on fire. He guessed in a way it had. Chuckling to himself, he begged his body to return to normal as he stood and folded the quilt. Luckily, the interruption had helped certain physical evidence of his attraction to Alaina resolve itself.
After a brief meeting and a quick dinner of whatever spaghetti-type casserole Alaina and Mick had thrown in the oven, they were ready to set up the equipment. Patrick couldn’t keep his brain focused on the job. He had to reposition the camera three times before it finally covered the right area. If he could only stop watching Alaina gather figurines and glass animals, maybe he’d get this setup done and be able to start the evening. He tried to tell himself his interest in what she was doing was purely protection, but since his gaze landed on her ass every time, even his subconscious knew it was a lie. He couldn’t get involved with her, especially now. Probably never.
The image of Alaina naked filled his brain and caused him to drop the batteries he held. The uncharged and fully charged mixed into a frustrating pile on the pink puppy throw rug in front of shelves full of dog figurines. Mick shot him a confused raised eyebrow, and then shook his head with a knowing smile when he realized Patrick had been watching Alaina instead of concentrating on what he was supposed to be doing. This had to stop.
Except the thought of sending Alaina with Mick or any of the other guys irritated him in a way he couldn’t describe. Hell no, he wasn’t jealous. Every other member, besides him, was happily married. There was no reason for resentment to take up residence in his gut.
Alaina bent over to gather what appeared to be a stuffed dog from the bottom shelf. Patrick dropped all of the batteries he’d managed to pick up. Mick rolled his eyes and came to stand in front of him.
“Dude, what is going on?”
Patrick shot him a glare, especially when it was already obvious what was causing his lack of concentration.
“I need another box,” Alaina said over her shoulder, still bent over the collection of stuffed dogs.
“And you need a break,” Mick said quietly before turning to Alaina. “I’ve got a pile of boxes in the foyer, and the owl crap in there is freaking me out so bad I can hardly get the equipment set up. Come on.” Mick winked, wiggling his eyebrows before turning to follow Alaina down the hall.
The urge to tackle Mick and knock a few teeth out nearly overwhelmed him, even though Patrick knew he was teasing. It might be a good way to release some of his frustration anyway. He rested his head against the wall. The harassment would be relentless since Mick had picked up on his attraction to Alaina. That was reason enough to take a preemptive strike.
Shoving thoughts of her and how he’d already rejected her out of his head, he finally managed to get the batteries sorted. The cameras were nearly set up and the cords all taped and checked. They’d be ready to roll in a few minutes, as long as he kept his head on straight. A scream from the foyer halted his theory of forward progress. He ran, getting there in time to see Mick throw something off Alaina’s left arm.
“What the hell happened?” Patrick rushed to her side.
Alaina clutched her arm close to her body. Her eyes filled with tears as she breathed deeply. Patrick held her, waiting for her to answer.
“I . . .” She shook her head, looking over his head to where Mick stood.
Patrick turned. Mick held something small, furry, and stuffed between his thumb and forefinger. “This bit her.”
Impossible. “What?”
“She was taking care of all these creepy owls when she screamed. The damned thing was hanging off her arm, wiggling around.” Mick shook the stuffed animal, but nothing happened.
“Let me see.” Patrick reached for her arm, and she slowly complied.
A beak mark surrounded by still-oozing blood was clearly visible on her forearm. Patrick held his palm over the area, feeling the malice behind the attack as well as the fear and confusion of the victim. The lingering malevolence worried him the most. The sense of evil was far greater than the dark shadows.
Alaina’s fearful, questioning eyes locked with his, and he was able to feel even more of what he previously couldn’t—to read her deeper emotions and get a brief glimpse into her soul. The jolt of awareness that came with the sense of her emotions almost knocked him over. And he thought he’d lusted after her before. The need to touch her again overwhelmed him. Even though he held her hand and supported her back as he helped her up, it wasn’t enough.
He wondered how much would be enough.
She stood in front of him, studying his face as they waited for Mick to return with a first aid kit. “What happened here?”
“Something attacked you.” He averted his gaze, sure that wasn’t what she meant.
“Not the attack. When you touched me I could feel you inside my head. I swear I could see inside yours, and then . . .” She didn’t finish, but he was reasonably certain of what she’d been about to say. The sexual buzz still coursed through him.
“I don’t know. Wait. You think you were in my head?” He avoided touching her, afraid he’d kiss her when she needed him to take care of her wound.
She backed up a little. “I’m not sure, but I don’t know what else it could have been.”
“What did you see?” He reached for her hand, his stomach in knots.
Alaina put a hand to her chest, avoiding his. “Dark hair. Very pregnant woman in a white nightgown lying at the bottom of the stairs. Her head was in an unnatural position, her mouth open as if she’d been screaming. One hand was on her belly, the other over her heart. Her eyes were closed. It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”
<
br /> Jana. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his balance. Alaina’s description was exact. How was it possible she’d delved into his memories?
He ignored the plea for help with camera two from the walkie-talkie at his side and shook his head. He’d have to tell her something soon, even if Alona hadn’t passed on the ring. He didn’t have much of a choice. There were too many questions he couldn’t explain away—not that Alaina would accept a fairy tale answer. Mick’s return with the first aid kit stopped him from spilling his guts.
“Dave’s having some trouble with camera two,” Patrick said, taking the industrial-sized first-aid box he kept in the back of the truck and motioning to the walkie-talkie.
“Everything okay here?” Mick paused, looking between the two of them with concern.
“Fine. The wound isn’t too bad. I’ll fix her up. We’ll be ready for lights out as soon as Dave gets camera two set.” Patrick’s gaze was stuck on Alaina, his mind spinning with what she’d said about Jana.
Alaina held her arm up to him after sitting on one of the high-backed chairs in the foyer. “Think I’ll live?”
Her tone was all bravery and humor, but Patrick’s connection to her emotions continued, and he knew she put on a show—either for him or herself. He opened the case, grabbing disinfectant and gauze.
“I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a stuffed animal bite.” He paused with his hand over her wound, not sure if he should touch her again, but wanting to more than he cared to admit.
She took a shaky breath and repositioned her arm on the chair. Patrick finally touched the gauze, soaked with cleanser, to the bite. When nothing happened, his concentration clicked into place and he inspected the bite while removing the clotted blood from the edges. Alaina seemed to relax, though her hair brushing against his shoulder threatened his sanity.
After smearing antibiotic cream over the bite, he attached a large adhesive strip. The sense of Alaina returned, stronger than before. His hands shook as he smoothed the edges of the bandage. Alaina covered his hand with hers.
He could swear her heart beat inside his veins, adding to the erratic rhythm of his and throwing him off-balance. She leaned forward when he did, their lips meeting in a clumsy bumping of heads. Pulling back, he met her eyes and lost the tenuous battle for distance and professionalism.
She kissed him back with a moan, her hands tangling in his hair. They weren’t close enough. Patrick wrapped an arm around her lower back, moving her forward in the chair and settling her against him. She used her uninjured arm like an anchor. He wanted inside her so badly he thought he’d die if it didn’t happen.
Something crashed into his head, but he was so wrapped up in Alaina’s warmth he didn’t register the oddness of the activity. Until it happened again. When he looked up, hundreds of differently-sized things swarmed around them. He reached up and grabbed one as it dive-bombed the chair, capturing a small, pink, stuffed owl. The squawk the impossibly alive thing let out was enough to burst his eardrums. The other birds attacked his head as he gave the stuffed pinkness a shake. Considering the bite on Alaina’s arms, he swatted them away before they could attach to his flesh. Glancing to the left, he grabbed an old badminton racquet Alona had on display behind some small trophies and took aim.
He volleyed several of the nasty little suckers with one swing and cleared the room within minutes. Alaina dissolved into giggles. Besides worrying about the state of their collective sanity, he couldn’t help but join her. She grabbed the racquet from his hand and sent a lime-green pipsqueak of an owl down the hall with a shout of glee. She leaned against him, her breath coming in short gasps. He bent to kiss her as the walkie-talkie at his side beeped. Alaina moved out of his reach to sit in the chair after dropping the racquet into his hand.
“Yo, Ice Man. We’re ready to roll.” Mick’s voice rumbled through the speaker, followed by the device’s paging signal. Great. The crew probably had every idea of what was taking him so long to clean her small wound.
Alaina giggled again. Not quite the reaction he expected. “Ice Man? That’s the second time I’ve heard him call you that. Why?”
“Don’t ask me. He’s called me that since he came on board. Every time I ask him what it means he comes up with a different reason.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and seeking the calm he’d need to get through the night with her by his side. “On my way.”
Clipping the walkie-talkie to his belt, he reached to help Alaina up. She rose quicker than he expected and ended up crushed against him. He kissed her gently, erasing the control he’d worked so hard to get back.
Alaina said nothing as she followed him to Alona’s office. He had to admit the removal of even the minimal amount of clutter already made their job easier. Alaina had given them free rein with the placement of the cameras in areas they normally wouldn’t consider. As long as they didn’t damage furniture or any of the wood surfaces, she didn’t care. Apparently, she planned on removing the embossed velvet from the foyer walls and the old-fashioned red and black village-scene wallpaper from the halls. The historical society would throw a fit about that.
Patrick held in a chuckle, glad stupid wallpaper helped get his mindset where it needed to be. At first, he’d been worried her need to change the house would lead to more dissention among the shadows. Then he realized she had to redecorate to suit her tastes or the entities would never take her seriously. It was bad enough she might be living in Alona’s shadow without the benefit of training, she needed to take control of her environment in order to do her job the right way—if it was her job, though he still hoped it wasn’t.
Alaina sat on the couch, studying the increased amount of equipment they’d brought in. The room had been rearranged into stations, with the running equipment away from the windows and facing the door. They’d moved the coffee table and one of the overstuffed chairs out to make room, leaving the couch and a smaller chair. He dropped the first aid kit beside the couch, hoping he was wrong in assuming they would need it again tonight.
“Thanks for being here,” he said as he surveyed the newcomers. “Three floors, attic, and basement. We’ll split into teams of three, keeping at least one floor between each team to eliminate crossover noise. Alaina will be with me. We’ll cover the third-floor bedrooms first. You guys take the basement. We’ll meet back here in forty minutes to switch out and take breaks.”
Everyone nodded, flipping on the communicators at their sides and gathering equipment.
“Be extra careful.” He explained the knickknack attacks, trying to keep a straight face at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “There’s an opportunity to gather a lot of evidence and maybe some experiences we don’t normally get. Don’t provoke.” He pointed at Mick, who was well known for getting spirits to interact via taunting.
“Got it, Ice Man. Let’s go.” He saluted and then disappeared through the door, followed by his mini-team.
The crew was well trained and confident. Somehow the knowledge didn’t help Patrick’s growing wariness about what should be an interesting night. Alaina stood, taking the flashlight he offered and tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans. He was doomed.
~ ~ ~
Alaina waited for Patrick to finish checking the camera setups on the display monitors and tried her best to keep her gaze off him. What the hell had he done to her earlier? And what had she seen when he’d touched her?
If she’d had any doubts about his psychic ability they were gone after what she’d seen so far today. Would he purposefully allow her into his buried memories? That’s what they were. Without question, she’d witnessed a painful part of his past.
She’d seen his wife’s death. Mick said he lost his child, too. Gram had never told her much about Patrick’s personal life. Neither had Patrick. Alaina hadn’t really cared before now. All she could focus on was her own hurt, not what Patrick might h
ave gone through. Now who was the jerk? The sense of desperation and evil continued to flow through her, throbbing through the bite mark on her arm. The need to be with Patrick matched the desperation in equal amounts. She tried not to let the fact that he’d kissed her obliterate the past. The physical interest she acknowledged earlier paled in comparison to the current desire to jump Patrick’s bones without caring who was around to watch.
So not like her. And yet, she felt no guilt about kissing him. Weird, and very different from the last time she’d tried to kiss him. He stopped in the doorway in front of her. She realized she was again staring at the way the tight black T-shirt hugged his back. Well. This was getting kind of annoying, especially since she’d missed every instruction.
“Did you catch anything I said?” He eyed her up and down with an almost mocking grin. The urge to punch him grew.
“Sure.” She rolled her eyes and followed him out the door, wondering if she’d missed anything important.
Once in the hall, he waited for her, allowing the other members of his team to go ahead. “I said we’re going to start with your grandmother’s room. Be alert, keep your mind open. And stay with me.”
She nodded, her body catching on the instruction to stay with him as she followed up the steps. The corners pulsed with dark life. She and Patrick arranged themselves on Gram’s bed with crewmember Dave seated at the end facing the closet. The room quieted. The silence had an edge that made the hairs on her arms stand up—and she didn’t think it was from years of not being allowed in here. She glanced at Patrick. He slowly scanned the room with his camera and then followed Dave’s movements as he covered the space with an electromagnetic field detector to pick up possible spirit energies.
The ominous sense increased. Alaina fought to keep her fear tucked away. Nothing was going to happen to her with Patrick right next to her. The wound on her arm throbbed, mocking her as the temperature dropped and her breath puffed out in little white clouds. Patrick grabbed her hand and squeezed as Dave quietly asked questions into a tape recorder.
The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates) Page 5
