by Ellen March
“He didn’t try to grab your tits again?” she said as she chewed. “Mmm, this is scrumptious; you make a mean chilli, got to say it.”
Grace put a finger to her lips, trying to silence her. She didn’t want Breece going off on one again. He still hadn’t calmed down. It was her fault; she never should have raised the subject. She could sense the anger emanating from him, an almost feral possessiveness.
“Answer her.”
Grace jumped. He was whispering close to her ear.
“What’s wrong?” Cricking her head to the side, Amy stared at her curiously.
“Nothing, it’s just Breece playing games.”
“I said, answer her!”
“Will you cut it out and stop ordering me around?”
“If you don’t, I’ll talk to your friend Amy, with my hands or through the board. Either way, you will tell me what he did.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, he grabbed my tit, okay? Are you satisfied?”
Amy looked on, and shivered at the icy blast of air that blew through the room. A sudden sweep of books scattered off the shelf, bouncing across the floor, making them both jump.
“Breece, will you behave and stop throwing childish tantrums?”
“What’s wrong with him?” Amy looked up. Her small hazel eyes darted and flitted across the room.
“He’s jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” He appeared besides her. “I don’t like anyone touching what’s mine.”
“Breece, you’ve got to understand that I’m not yours. We’re in a fuck relationship, okay? Plus there’s the little problem that you’re dead. You seem to keep forgetting that.”
“How can I,” he almost yelled, “when you remind me every two minutes?”
Grace turned to Amy, who was staring at her, spoon held in midair. “Sorry about this; he’s not usually such a childish twat.”
“I’m not being childish!”
Grace wagged her finger at him. “Temper, temper.”
“I’m going.” He began to fade.
“Breece, wait, where are you going? You’re supposed to stay. Amy wanted to see what you can do.” Her voice was laced with panic.
Amy squealed, dropping her spoon. She rubbed her nipple and then blushed and held a hand to her throat.
“Breece!” Grace was furious at his actions. She knew damn well what he’d done. A cold wind blasted over her. When it was over, seconds later, she knew he’d left.
“Oh my goodness,” Amy said in a breathless voice, fanning herself. “He kissed my throat, and the tingles that shot through me!” Her face was bright red. “No wonder you want to keep him. If his lips can do that, I dread to think what his cock can do.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Grace tried to sound indifferent, but she felt anything but that. She glanced around, worrying where he’d gone. And what if he didn’t come back? She’d never seen him so ornery and stubborn. “Come on, let’s have another glass of wine,” she said, pushing her plate away. Her appetite had suddenly disappeared.
“I won’t say no to that.” Amy finished the last of her meal and rubbed her stomach. “That was lush.” She looked over at her friend. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just … that’s the first time we’ve argued.”
Amy shook her head. “Come on, let’s get the Ouija board out, have some light-hearted fun. And don’t forget what I said. No asking for proof.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Look what happened the last time?” She stood and put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes in disbelief at the smirk on Amy’s face. “I’m not entirely stupid. I do learn from my mistakes.”
Ten minutes later, they both knelt alongside the coffee table, fingers on the marker. Grace thought back to the last time, and what had happened, and a shiver snuck over her. Why was she doing this again? Didn’t she already have enough problems? She just couldn’t help herself. Perhaps she’d learn something more about Breece and the other side.
“Is anyone there?”
Nothing happened. Amy repeated the question several times. She was looking discouraged when suddenly it moved.
Yes.
She grinned up at Grace, “What’s your name?”
Chelsea.
“Is that your name?”
Yes, I just said that.
“Okay, why are you here?” Amy whispered to Grace. “Seems like she has bit of a temper, the way that shot around the board.”
To see Breece.
“What? How do you know him?” asked Grace, eyes wide with panic.
He was in love with me.
“I don’t believe you.”
Why would I lie?
“Were you married?” Grace closed her eyes and whispered the question. She didn’t want to think of him loved up with a wife. It suddenly came to her she didn’t like the idea of him with anyone.
No.
“Thought you said he loved you.”
“Grace, calm down,” Amy urged, sounding anything but calm herself. “You’re getting too emotional.”
He did, he still does. That’s why I want to see him.
“He’s never spoken of you.”
Breece is the best in bed. Are you sleeping with him?
“Why?”
Because you won’t be when I get there.
“You can’t get through. You’re stuck on the other side.”
How do you know I’m not already here? How do you know he’s not waiting for me? He’s not here now, is he?
“You’re telling me you’re here?” Grace said, furious. “That he’s with you? Prove it!”
“Oh fuck!” Amy swore. And the board flew up into the air and landed on the floor. Another freezing blast swept the room. Then silence.
Grace swiped at an angry tear. Why couldn’t she learn to control her temper?
“You’ve done it again. That ghost was taunting you, and you fell for it,” said Amy, shaking her head.
* * *
“What have you done?” Breece suddenly appeared besides her. He could sense a presence, a not-so-nice one. Yet felt as if it was one he should know, and a host of strange sensations bombarded him.
“So you came back.” Grace turned to him, her silver eyes almost black. “Did you know a girl called Chelsea?”
“Might have. Guess I knew a lot of girls. Why?”
“How can you forget the woman you loved?” She felt a sharp pain in her chest. Didn’t want him fucking another woman, didn’t want to see him loving her. And yet? Could she believe Chelsea? Could she trust Breece?
Breece scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“She said she was here because of you, that you loved her.”
“Listen Grace, there’s a lot I don’t know, can’t remember. But that’s a downright lie. Call it intuition, a feeling, or anything you want to name it but I’ve never loved any woman.”
“Then why did she say it? Why is she here?”
“How the hell should I know? You’re the one who messed around with what you don’t understand.” Breece felt a chill, and turned to stare at the slight, dark-haired woman before him. A trace of a smile flashed cherry red, and her vivid blue eyes pinned him.
“Aren’t you going to give me a welcoming kiss?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, not you!” He recognized her immediately. It was just her name he’d forgotten. The gates to his memory opened. She’d been hot in the sack, but was a stubborn bitch who couldn’t take no for an answer. They’d been together for a few weeks, and as usual he became bored and moved on. Except she hadn’t. Stalking him with calls until he’d changed his number.
Grace stared. Goose bumps rose on her skin. “Who are you talking to?”
Chelsea swayed towards him, and her hand smoothed across his cheek. She chuckled when he veered back, as if her touch burned him.
“Haven’t you missed me?”
Breece stared at her huge tits—not a ripple of movement. She batted long lashes, as false as t
he colour of her eyes, which was heightened by vivid blue contact lenses. The long hair extensions waved around her waist. It had all been true, the images that had been invading his mind, and he looked over at Grace, his natural beauty. “No I haven’t. What are you doing here?”
“Breece, answer me, who are you talking to?” Grace clutched his arm, tugging at him. He shook free.
“I came to apologise.”
“What are you on about now? Apologise for what?” He threaded his fingers through his hair in exasperation.
“For killing you. I was the one driving the car.”
Breece rubbed a hand over his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You what? Why?”
“I don’t like being dumped. You really shouldn’t have taken up with another girl so soon.” Her smile was more of a grimace, her lips a harsh slash of red across her face. She studiously examined her nails, which matched the colour of her lipstick.
“It was you, the hit and run?” He began to pace around the room. “I don’t get it. I never loved you, and we were together for such a short time.” Grace, who was hearing only his side of the conversation, was thoroughly chilled by his words. “But to murder me, why?”
“Well, actually, I just meant to hit you slightly, to injure you. Put you out of action for a while.”
“You were driving a car, for fuck’s sake! What did you expect?”
“Yeah, I misjudged. The next thing I knew you were dead.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry, but I didn’t mean it.”
“And that’s it? Sorry but you didn’t fucking mean to?”
Breece couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A casual shag had been the one to take his life? To kill him because he’d called it a day? Shit, if he’d done something serious he could understand, but this? Hell, she was high maintenance and he was glad he was rid of her, even if she had put him in this predicament.
“Breece, will you tell me what’s going on?” Grace’s worried gaze followed him as he paced the room, and she nibbled nervously on her lip. “Is what she said true? That you were in love with her?”
His silence hung in the air.
Chelsea glared at her. “Who’s that?”
“Never mind, she doesn’t concern you. You’ve given your apology. Now piss off.”
“No way, Breece. I intend to make up for lost time. You’ve got a delectable cock that I want.”
“Well tough, because you’re not getting it.”
“I hope she’s not, or I’m not going to be happy.” Chelsea moved towards Grace.
“Keep away from her! I’m warning you.” Breece crossed the room in two long strides and stood beside Grace. His arm snaked protectively around her waist.
“I could have some real fun with her, because you won’t always be around.”
“I swear to you, I will.”
Grace took his hand, her fingers threaded through his. “Will you speak to me?”
Breece sucked in a sigh. He knew he had to explain the one sided conversation she was listening to. “You’ve only gone and fetched an ex-girlfriend of mine. She wanted to apologize for running me down.”
“She’s here?” Grace glanced around, her eyes wide and glittering darkly. “I’m sorry, Breece,” she moaned, “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“Yeah, and I warned you to leave it there, but you had to do it again, didn’t you.”
Amy looked over, confusion evident on her face. “Has another ghost come through?”
Grace nodded. “Yep. It’s his ex, and not only that, she’s the one who killed him.”
“Oh great, bet that’s pissed him off.” She rose and began to pack the board away. “From here on in I’m going to lock this in the cellar and leave it there. Because so far it has caused all sorts of problems.”
“That’s the understatement,” muttered Grace.
Breece glared at Chelsea, a myriad of sensations crossing his face. Confusion, regret, anger. “You’re not staying here, so I suggest you leave.”
“No can do.” She dropped down onto the settee, then happened to glance up. “Where’s Darcy come from?”
Breece checked out where she was looking and recognized the newcomer, the ghost straight out of the Regency period. “He’s your welcoming committee.”
“Who are you talking about now?” asked Grace, twisting around at the direction he was looking in. “Please don’t say there’s another ghost in here.”
“Tell you later.” He noted the shock written on the familiar stranger’s face. The man had never introduced himself.
The small man pulled out a sheath of papers, not the single sheet Breece’s details had been on. “It seems you’ve been one busy spectre.”
“I get bored easily.” She tapped her yawn with the back of her hand.
“Quite.” He frowned. “You appear to make a habit of this. Who met you last time?”
“Don’t know, but he was hot.” Her bored gaze scrawled over him dismissively. “Now that was one hell of an introduction. Much better than this pretty shit one.” Again she assessed him and gave him a dismissive glance.
“Hmm, appears he was too busy, er, introducing himself, and forgot to mention some rather important details.”
Chelsea rose. Her gaze was fixed on Breece. She noticed how he stayed close to the redhead, shadowing her almost protectively. She flashed a nasty smile and without warning, snatched at a book, a hardback with sharp sides, and flung it at the redhead.
Amy looked on in horrified amazement as the book flew through the air, straight at Grace.
Breece moved in front, and seconds before the book reached her face, smashed it away. Grace screamed and ducked. “Chelsea!” Breece yelled. “I warned you, now cool it before I lose my temper.”
“Such devotion,” she sneered, hurling a succession of objects. She snatched at ornaments, photos, anything she could lay her hand on. Even the remote control winged its way across but bounced harmlessly across the floor. Breece had stood in front, easily blocking each missile. Grace hovered close behind. The TV flicked on, and the sound boomed in the room.
Amy crouched behind the settee. She’d never seen poltergeist activity before, or an irate ghost. Whatever this was, she was determined to lay low.
“I wish I could say I’d kill you, but that’s not an option,” growled Breece, still crouched in front of Grace. Hell, he felt like a fullback.
The voice of the stranger bled through. “No, but I can arrange something. The hierarchy doesn’t tolerate such actions. And it’s up to me to enforce the rules.”
“And just who do you think you are?” Chelsea turned her scorn on him. “You’re a nobody, simply a messenger. Go away, little man! Back to Great Expectations or whatever scene you’ve walked out of.”
“I’m a little more than that,” the stranger said, drawing himself to his full height. “And in my time women had respect for themselves, and they earned the respect of others. They didn’t spread themselves around as you appear to.” He took his spectacles off and pinned her with a glare.
His eyes, which had been a bland colour, glowed red, and his gaze burned eerily across the room, bathing it in crimson light. He flung his arms out, and flames shot out of his long pale fingers, scorching over Chelsea.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was finally edged with fear. She felt strange. Her limbs were leaden, and heat was building there. Her blood boiled as it rushed through her body. She blinked, her vision blurred, and stared in horror as her body began to fade, disappearing from the floor up. “Stop it, please! I’ll listen to you, anything you say.”
Breece stared in shocked horror as she slowly vanished, her begging ignored. He heard her agonizing scream echo throughout the room. Then looked across to the TV; she was inside it, her hands hammering on the screen. Her fists slammed against it, desperation and fear written on her pale face. Her mouth open, and the slash of red lips moved against the glass.
Pleading.
The stranger bent and p
icked up the remote. He paused. “Say goodbye.” And flicked it off. The silence in the room was deafening, a cloud that hovered over them all.
The Regency-era ghost turned to Breece. “She’ll be away for a long time, at least until she learns some manners.” He gave a shake of his head. “But some never learn, and we send them down, into the pits, which are as black as their souls.”
Breece swallowed. “Will she go there? Will I?” He didn’t give a toss as long as Chelsea wasn’t around to hurt Grace. He resolved to have a chat with her about releasing spirits. He hoped this experience would stop her in the future, serve as a cautionary tale.
“Most likely, but you? No.” He checked his fob. “Time’s passing.” He tilted his hat in a sweeping gesture. “I’m sure I’ll see you again.”
Breece blinked, and he was gone.
Chapter Twelve
Grace clung to his hand, listening to the silence, straining to catch a sound and almost afraid to breathe. “What’s happened?”
“She’s gone. Didn’t you see her in the TV?”
“No, it was the usual channel. Why, what do you mean?”
“Never mind.” He pulled her over to stand in front of him, tilting her head back, his finger snuck under her chin. “Promise me you won’t mess with that Ouija board again.”
Grace nodded. He wasn’t getting an argument on that one.
Amy snuck out from behind the settee; a sheen of perspiration glazed her face and she was still breathing rapidly. “I can’t believe what just happened.” She swiped at an errant strand of hair with a trembling hand.
“Neither can I.” Grace glanced up at him. “Shit, Breece, you really know how to pick them.”
“Shut the hell up. She could have seriously injured you. That was her intention.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She pulled her hand from his and crossed to Amy. “Don’t ever fetch that over here again.”
“I don’t intend to.” She grimaced at the case that held the board. “This is getting packed away. Speaking of which, think I’d better make a move.” She glanced around the room. “Lucky Breece was here to protect you. I guess he was standing in front of you?”
Grace nodded. A whole gamut of emotions raced through her—gratitude, fear, guilt, shame and one other.
