Hot Nights, Dark Desires

by Eden Bradley

  “Hex, please…”

  “Don’t, Brenna. Just don’t. Not now.”

  “I’m so sorry. I had no right to say that.” Her voice was a whisper that wove its way through his seething temper, softened it somewhat. She stood with her arms wrapped around her and took a deep breath.

  “I just…well, I used to have everything I wanted. Money. Clothes. Expensive cars. Now all I have is this house, which I’m going to lose any day now. I can’t afford to pay my bills. I’m going to end up on the streets, Hex. I’m terrified.” She looked down at her feet and said quietly, “I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a kid, my mom and I had to live out of her car. There were times I was lucky to get one meal a day. I liked going to school, even though I had to wear the same dirty clothes every day, because at least I got a free lunch.” She wrung her hands, swallowed audibly. “I can’t live like that again.”

  He could still hear her calling him a coward in the back of his mind. “Arlen’s coming for you. You told him what you wanted—you invited him back.”

  “It doesn’t matter—he was going to come back anyway.” Her voice was dull, uncaring, and he wanted her—needed her—to care. It was all the more apparent at that moment.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you not to invite trouble?”

  Her head jerked up and she stared at him unsteadily. “I’m so tired of all of this. Please make it stop.”

  He caught her right before she collapsed, just as the windows began to blow in toward them, one by one.

  He scooped her up into his arms and ran into the upstairs bathroom, the one with the claw-footed tub. He got them both inside and ran the water over them, icy cold and refreshing, despite the chaos happening around them.

  “Brenna, honey, wake up.” He gently patted her cheeks, and her eyes fluttered open.

  Arlen would be here soon. It gave Hex limited time to get a plan together.

  “Listen to me—are you listening?” he asked. She nodded through chattering teeth. “Baby, I’m sorry, I don’t want to put you through anything more, but we’ve got to find a way to end this.”

  “I know, Hex.” She caressed his cheek and suddenly it didn’t matter that the water was freezing, because his blood ran hot for her, hotter than the hottest New Orleans summer.

  His stomach knotted, his head swam. “I’m going to get Arlen’s deal—and once I do that, you’ve got to be the one to convince him to leave my body.”

  “But that’s what you’re trained to do. I’ve never talked to a ghost.” She paused. “Wait a minute. What did you just say?”

  He was shaking all over, and it wasn’t because of the chill in the water. “The only way I can try to figure out who Mattie was to Arlen, what actually happened to make him start latching on to you, is to let him inside of me. Invite him in.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “You’re shaking.” She rubbed his arms under the water.

  He reached up and shut off the water before she had a chance to stop him. “If this works, I might be able to see him without the camera.”

  He didn’t want that gift back. He’d been pretty damned happy with the light version of his gift all these years, but understanding just how fucking vulnerable he was by not being able to see the ghosts without the cameras made him realize how many times he’d probably escaped possessions by the skin of his teeth.

  Just because he could only see the ghosts through his lens didn’t mean they weren’t always around him. The markings protected him, definitely, but he’d acted like if he couldn’t see the ghosts, they didn’t exist.

  He was an idiot. And a coward, just like Brenna said.

  He’d have to trust her to be strong enough to pull him out of this. Between her and the tribal protection bands, he’d been all right so far. But inviting a ghost inside was a very different thing. Once Arlen had an invitation, all bets were off—the tribal markings wouldn’t work worth a damn and Hex would be possessed, for all intents and purposes. “It’s up to you to join our protective auras if necessary, to bring me back when we learn what we need to about Arlen.”

  She nodded, leaned up to kiss him, and he noted that she was shivering badly. It was time to start the wheels in motion.

  “I’m going to call out to him,” he told her. “Just be prepared to talk to him. To tell him to go.”

  “Suppose you can’t see him after you let him in?” she whispered. “Suppose he refuses to leave?”

  “We’ll never know if I don’t try.” He kissed her, a long, hard kiss that seemed as if it might go on forever, his tongue teasing hers, their wet bodies pressed together, steam rising as cold water hit hot air, and he yanked himself away from her with his last dose of willpower.

  “Come on out to play, Arlen. I’m letting you in, all the way,” he called out. The bands around his arms began to burn in protest, as if they knew what Hex was doing. As if they knew their power would soon be voided. “I’ll be your vessel, Arlen,” he continued. “Come tell your story to Brenna.”

  Not Brenna. Mattie. My Mattie.

  Hex whirled around at the sound of the voice, but he couldn’t see Arlen. Yet the voice was getting closer, whispering in his ear, until it started coming from inside his own head.

  He didn’t realize he’d fallen onto the bath mat, not until Brenna’s body covered his and he heard her crying out, “Hex, please, no…”

  Mattie, come home with me.

  “She’s not going anywhere with you,” Hex told Arlen, even as consciousness seemed to whirl around him. Somehow, he rolled on top of Brenna. He was vaguely aware that her arms were around his back as he urged her legs to spread, and even the whisper of his own name didn’t seem to change anything.

  Brenna had never been so terrified in her entire life. Not even when she and her mom had been living in a shack on the outskirts of town and a drug-crazed burglar had broken in while they slept. He’d muttered incoherently, his words stringing together in a jumble, like what Hex was doing now.

  Or maybe it was Arlen.

  She pushed out from underneath him, escaping his roving hands, which felt so good, so warm, but until she knew who was in charge of them, those hands would have to wait.

  “Hey, there,” she said softly. “Who’s running the show?”

  His eyes opened and went half-lidded as a smile spread across his face. “Mattie, my love.”

  That she’d expected this didn’t matter. She wanted to scream, to beg Hex to come back. But he’d given himself up so they could learn the truth about Arlen’s connection to her, and she had to use what might be the only chance to fix all of this. Shaking with cold, she grasped Hex’s hand.

  “Tell me about Mattie, Arlen.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. We’re together. We will be always.”

  “I need to know.” She leaned over him, smoothed her fingers over his cheek. “Please tell me.”

  Something like an electric current ran through her. Hex’s body bucked, stiffened, and she knew he was fighting, trying to come to the surface. Light flashed, and suddenly she was in another time, another place. A party. Somehow she knew the year: 1923. She was looking through Arlen’s eyes at a woman who, with her blond hair and slim build, resembled Brenna, but who she knew was Mattie. And Mattie was angry. Very angry.

  “You finally did it,” Mattie snapped at Arlen. “You finally ended my career.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, doll. McKinney wants you to star in his new film. He’ll cough up the dough.” Arlen snared a flute of champagne from the man passing by with a tray laden with drinks. “He always does.”

  “I’m going after him.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mattie—”

  She ran off, as well as she could in the tight dress and high heels. Arlen signaled a server to take his glass, but dropped it when a chill skittered up his spine from out of nowhere. Then the sound of a crash, and panicked shouts, reached his ears.

  “Matti
e,” he screamed. He ran, stumbling into the darkness outside. “Oh, Mary, mother of God.”

  Mattie was lying in the road, her limbs splayed awkwardly, blood pooling around her broken body. The smashed front end of a Packard told the story.

  Brenna gasped, the vision so real, so powerful she could feel Arlen’s pain. She blinked. The bathroom. She was in the bathroom. And it wasn’t 1923. Thank God, oh, thank God. Still, her heart pounded crazily, and tears streamed down her face. Finally, some of this was making sense.

  Another image blasted through her, of Arlen in a graveyard, staring at Mattie’s monument. Then Arlen again, this time in a richly decorated study—in this very house—with a pistol. The sound of a single shot ricocheted off the inside of her skull.

  He’d killed himself. After Mattie died, he’d been unable to carry on. She could feel his happiness when, immediately afterward, his spirit had found Mattie’s on the earthly plane. They’d wandered New Orleans for decades, not realizing that a better place awaited them.

  They had been happy until Katrina hit, and Arlen hadn’t seen Mattie since.

  Brenna continued to stroke Hex’s cheek as something her mother said came back to her. Reports of hauntings often peak after hurricanes. Their electromagnetic fields can confuse earthbound spirits, can shake up the ghost community like a beehive. Many of them cross over during that time. Others are more lost than ever.

  Mattie must have crossed over. Arlen had come back to the house where he’d killed himself, searching for Mattie…and had found Brenna here, helping her mom after the storm.

  Confused and alone, he’d latched on to her, and when Brenna’s mother had died of a fast-moving and undiagnosed cancer just weeks later, he’d identified with Brenna’s grief and pain.

  “Arlen, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  He shook his head. Shook Hex’s head anyway. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now. Forever.” He shot forward and grabbed her, tugging her against him with Hex’s incredible strength. His mouth came forcefully down on hers.

  “No! Hex!” She squirmed, turned her face away until he tangled his hand in her hair and wrenched her head back.

  “Hex can’t hear you, lover.”

  “I’m not Mattie, Arlen. She crossed over. You need to follow her, and you need to let go of Hex now.”

  Rage twisted Hex’s handsome features. “Never.”

  Chills swept over her flesh. Hex must have known there was a possibility that he wouldn’t come back, but he’d risked it. For her.

  The selflessness of the act sat like a lump in her stomach. Would she have done the same for a near stranger?

  She didn’t want to think about the answer to that. What she wanted was to get Hex back so he could send Arlen packing into the afterlife, and she could get on with her current life.

  But where would that leave Hex? Because the truth was, they weren’t strangers anymore. They were much more than that, and that distance he’d been talking about was closing with every minute they spent together.

  Twisting, she tried to wrench free of Arlen’s hold, but he brought her in closer, dropped one hand low on her hip as he flipped her onto her back on the fuzzy bath mat. “I won’t lose you again.”

  “Hex, please.” She pummeled his shoulders, ribs, everything she could reach, but he only settled his weight on top of her. “Fight him, Hex. Don’t let him win. I need you.”

  “Shut up,” Arlen ground out.

  She was getting through. She could hear it in his voice. “Arlen, we can help you find Mattie, but you have to let Hex come back.”

  A low, rattling groan came from deep in Hex’s chest, as though he was clawing his way back from the pits of hell. “Brenna…”

  She grasped his face in both hands and held him so he couldn’t rear back. The battle raged in his eyes once more, flashes of umber and fire. “Stay with me, Hex.” Slowly, gradually, his expression softened, and whiskey eyes stared down at her. “Hex? Tell me it’s you.”

  “It’s me. Shit, it’s me.” He rolled off her, his breathing harsh and heavy.

  She crawled to him, not caring that she was naked and he was wet and shivering, and climbed into his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his shoulder. “Don’t do that again. Never do that again.”

  “I won’t.” His arms came around her, pulling her close with precious care. “He’s so hurt. Angry.”

  “He killed himself to be with her,” she whispered.

  “It makes sense now, why he attached himself to you.”

  “Besides looking a lot like her and sharing similar professions?”

  He nodded. “This was his house. In all the confusion, he needed you.”

  “So what do we do?”

  He pulled back and tipped up her chin to force her gaze to his. “You’re going to call Mattie.”

  “What? No. I can’t. My mom was the medium, not me.”

  “That’s not true. You saw into the past with Arlen, didn’t you?”

  “That’s because he made me—”

  “Brenna, he couldn’t have made you see anything if you didn’t possess the ability to communicate with the dead.”

  Oh, God. She’d spent her entire life trying to avoid all this, to keep her feet firmly planted in the land of the living, and she did not want to open her mind to the bullshit that had made her youth miserable.

  “There has to be another way.”

  “I can communicate with Arlen, but he’s earthbound. I’ve never been able to channel those who have crossed over. You’ve got to give it a shot. We need Mattie, or you’ll never be free of Arlen.”

  “What about him? Do you need your camera to see him?”

  “No.” He turned toward the door, his eyes haunted, his face pale, and at that moment, she realized what all this had cost him. “He’s standing right there.”

  CHAPTER

  Six

  For the first time in many years, there was no protective shield of the lens between Hex and the otherworld. No barriers.

  One look into Arlen’s lifeless eyes and Hex knew he’d never been safe anyway. The ghosts had always been there, surrounding him. It had been stupid to think otherwise.

  He tried to calm his breathing, to forget that it was all happening again, just the way Creed had constantly warned him.

  Hex, you’ll have to try to see the ghosts without the aid of the camera lens—do it on your own, before you’re forced to do it when you’re not prepared, Creed would say. But Hex had refused to listen.

  He’d told his friend that he would never willingly make that sacrifice—he didn’t want to see dead people around him all the time, the way he had as a child and teenager. And yet, there was nothing unwilling about what he’d just done for Brenna.

  “Shit.” He closed his eyes but he could still somehow see Arlen, as though the image had been seared into his brain. His wrist began to burn like the fires of hell, the way it had where Malachi had originally grabbed him. He had no doubt that there would be a raised, angry handprint on his skin within seconds.

  “Hex…Oh, my God, what’s happening to your wrist?” Brenna asked him, and he couldn’t speak, could only will all the ghostly remains from his body with the last drops of energy he had.

  “Leave him alone, Arlen. If you love me the way you say you do, you won’t hurt Hex.” Brenna held tight to his arm, protectively, and her voice was surprisingly calm. Firm, even.

  I’ll hurt anyone who gets in the way of you and me, Mattie. I promise you that. Arlen took a step forward, and Hex recoiled, and hated himself for that.

  “Don’t, Brenna,” Hex heard himself whisper. “Don’t antagonize him like that. He’s already upset that we’re close.”

  Hex had revealed things to Brenna, things that no woman had ever known about him.

  Mattie, why don’t you want to come back to me, Arlen asked.

  “She’s not Mattie,” Hex said, hearing the hoarseness of his own voice. Getting Arlen and Mattie’s story had be
en exhausting and Hex desperately needed a break. He would have to regroup quickly. “Go away, Arlen. You lost, and now you’re too weak to fight me,” he told the ghost.

  This isn’t over, Arlen told him. Like Hex didn’t know that. He had to fight the urge to give the ghost the finger before Arlen dematerialized into a misty smoke and left the room.

  “We’re alone,” Hex said. “He’ll be back, but for now it’s just us.”

  He ran his palms over his face and realized again how much this possession had taken from him. He brought his fingers around to the tribal markings, which seemed to burn more when he touched them, as though they were unleashing some of their anger on him for diluting their power.

  They’d eventually forgive him, heal him, but it would be a slow process.

  “I need…” he started, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he needed.

  “You need rest. Food. You need off this hard floor,” Brenna said.

  With her help, he peeled himself off the cold, tiled floor and let her lead him into the bedroom, where the shades were still pulled, keeping out the light…and some of the heat. It didn’t matter—the feel of the soft mattress against his back was heaven. His muscles bore a heaviness, as though he’d run a marathon.

  “Do you think he’ll really leave us alone for a while?” Brenna asked him as she wiped his forehead with a cool washcloth.

  “If we’re lucky.” He stared up into her eyes, still wide with worry. “I can see him if he comes back; I can warn you.”

  “So it worked—you’ve got your gift back, then?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” He managed to keep his voice calm, even as his heart hammered in his chest at the thought.

  “What about getting rid of him for good?”

  He shook his head. “He’s not ready to go. That’s why we need Mattie.”

  “Can’t you cast a spell, a hex or something to keep him away until then?”

  He managed a smile, because he’d been getting that request his entire life, based on his name. “‘Hex’ doesn’t mean what you think—it means six, which represents the universal number for sin. And sex.”