Jade's Spirit (Blue Collar Boyfriends Book 2)

by Jessi Gage

  It took her two tries to speak past her tight throat. “What…what happened? How did I get here?” The last thing she remembered was the library. She’d been reading about Mercy Birmingham and her fiancé, Joshua Harrison. She’d been so excited to tell Nick about the deaths on her property. Now she was on the floor of Emmett’s room feeling like she’d been doused in ice water and run over by a Mack truck.

  “Oh, baby.” He cupped her face and gazed down at her. He looked like someone had ripped his heart out. “So much,” he choked out. “So much has happened. I’ll tell you, but we need to get some food in you. Do you feel like eating?”

  She nodded like a bobble head. She was starved.

  Emmett stood up and scooped her off the floor. After setting her on the edge of the bed, he grabbed a zippered Herald and Son hoodie out of his closet.

  “Why do I have an IV in my arm?” she asked as he threaded her non-IV arm through one sleeve and tucked the soft fabric around her other shoulder. “And why was I on your bedroom floor in my underwear?” The hoodie settled around her with the comforting scents of cut grass and Emmett.

  “It’s a long story,” he said. He knelt on the floor to help her into a pair of her jeans. Then he took her hands in his. “How do you feel?”

  He asked with such sincerity she took a few seconds to think about it. “Like hell,” she said. That summed up the nausea clenching her tummy, the raging headache, the foul taste in her mouth, and the shakiness making her feel like someone had flipped her switch to “Martini mixer.” There was also a dark weight of fear covering her. But she couldn’t think why she was afraid, so she tried to ignore it.

  Emmett wrapped her in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why?” She pushed away to look into his eyes. They were beyond sad. She’d never seen cheerful, flirty Emmett look so down in the dumps.

  “Because it’s all my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?” She hated to see him beating himself up, especially when she didn’t know what it was over.

  He stood up. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs. There’s someone you’re going to want to meet.”

  She did not want to meet anyone. She wanted to crawl under the blankets and never come out, preferably with a leg of chicken and a milkshake. And some mashed potatoes. And buttered green beans. And a slice of Grandma Nina’s homemade pumpkin pie. But Emmett tugged her off the bed and was leading her from the room before she could protest.

  He had his arm around her waist and was holding her tight enough to support most of her weight. The IV bag rested in the crook of his arm. He was being so careful with her. “Easy does it,” he said as they stepped down the stairs together. She felt ridiculously safe and cared for, and the feeling made her bristle. No one treated her this good unless they wanted something from her.

  But this was Emmett, she reminded herself. He was one of the good guys. If Emmett acted like he cared, it was because he genuinely cared. She hadn’t known him long, but she knew that much.

  Then why was her instinct to run so close to the surface? Why did she feel like an invisible trap was on the verge of snapping closed around her?

  Shaking off the uneasy feeling, she let Emmett lead her into the kitchen. The sun was streaming through the windows with the happy yellow glow of morning. The microwave clock said it was 8:25. She blinked, disoriented. Her internal clock said it was somewhere around dinner time since it had been lunch time when she’d gone to find Nick in the library. It had to be the next morning. What had happened to her recollection of the last twenty hours?

  Speaking of Nick, he was sitting at the table, texting on his phone. He had a glass of orange juice at his elbow and a network of crisscrossing cuts all over his head. A particularly thick cut streaked in front of his ear. Butterfly stitches held it shut.

  “Jeez, what happened to you?” she blurted.

  He looked up and smiled a huge, jolly smile. “Jade!” He scraped back his chair and came to give her a hug. It was suffocating, mainly because Emmett didn’t let go of her, so she was sandwiched between the two men.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a final right now?” she said into Nick’s shoulder.

  Nick chuckled. “Yeah. Guess I’ll have to try and reschedule it.”

  Someone who wasn’t Nick or Emmett cleared his throat.

  She patted Nick’s arm, the universal gesture for, “Okay, good hug, let go now.”

  Nick stepped back, and a short black man came into view. He was wearing a pink shirt and khaki pants and his eyes were bloodshot. He was holding a mug of steaming coffee and looked like he’d need a heck of a lot more than one cup to rejoin the land of the living.

  “This is Dr. Chiboza Owusu,” Nick said. “My mentor.”

  She stared. What was this man doing here? Wasn’t Nick’s mentor some kind of demon expert? “Did you find out something about my house?” she asked. “And seriously, what happened to you?” She motioned toward Nick’s head. “Did the roof fall on you while you were at the house last night?” She turned to Emmett. “Why don’t I remember last night?”

  “She doesn’t remember?” Nick asked. His expression changed from happy go lucky to concerned.

  Emmett shook his head infinitesimally. “Maybe you should sit down,” he told her, guiding her to the seat beside Chiboza.

  The professor looked her in the eye, and an expression of subdued satisfaction transformed his face from weary to beatific.

  While she wondered at that, the man removed her IV. For some reason, the touch of this stranger didn’t bother her. In fact, Chiboza made her feel safe the way a good father should make his kids feel safe. Okay, that was weird.

  Looking paler than usual, Nick piled eggs, bacon, and French toast on a plate.

  When he set it in front of her, she stopped wondering about the stranger beside her and fell on it like a beast. “Why am I so hungry?” she asked between mouthfuls, grateful to have the needle out of her arm.

  Emmett sat on her other side. He looked back and forth between Nick and Chiboza.

  “Tell her,” Chiboza said in a deep, accented voice.

  Nick said, “Rip off the Band-Aid, man.”

  No one was answering her questions. And they were all so damn somber, it was starting to freak her out. She put down her fork. “What Band-Aid? What’s going on?”

  She was leaning over her breakfast when she felt Emmett’s hand on her back. He rubbed circles that should have been soothing but only managed to put her more on edge.

  “What?” she demanded, wiggling away from his touch. She was losing patience. There was still a lot of food on her plate, and she wanted it in her belly. But she had a feeling she should hear the three stooges out first. “Whatever it is, just spit it out.”

  Emmett cleared his throat. “You were, uh—” He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, searching for the right words. “Um, there was this spirit—”

  “Entity,” Nick said.

  “Entity,” Emmett repeated. “That kind of took over your body.”

  “Possessed you,” Nick said.

  “Pseudo-possessed,” Chiboza said. “Or oppressed. It can be difficult to tell the difference.”

  Emmett nodded. “Yeah, what he said. And the only way to get it out of you was for us to get married.” He winced. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember, but we kind of got married this morning.”

  “Did you know she wouldn’t remember?” Nick asked Chiboza.

  “I suspected,” he said to Nick. To Emmett, he said, “There is no ‘kind of’ about it.” He fixed his gaze on her. His expression was long and grave, sort of like a depressed Basset Hound. “You were pseudo-possessed by a spirit calling itself Mercy Abigail Birmingham. Have you no memory of this?”

  She blinked a few times, still getting over the fact that this man was here at all. She wasn’t exactly a morning person, but for some reason, she was finding it more difficult than usual to focus. “Don’t you live down in Mass?” she said. “You teach at Nick’
s school. What are you even doing here?”

  “I came last night when Nicholas phoned me to say a friend of his had been possessed. Tell me the last thing you remember before waking up this morning.”

  She told him about the library and the article she’d read on microfiche. Something clicked into place in her brain. “Mercy! Hey, you said I was possessed by an ‘entity’ that called itself Mercy. Could they be the same—wait, I was possessed?” She scrunched up her nose. “Who gets possessed? Doesn’t that just happen in the movies?”

  “Pseudo-possessed,” Nick said.

  “But you’re okay now,” Emmett said, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. She really looked at him then, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the creases at the corners. His hair was lumpy and needed washing. He had a thick layer of stubble that would have made him look dangerous if he hadn’t looked so exhausted. He’d aged five years since she’d last seen him. He smiled at her, but his eyes remained sad.

  She didn’t like the way everyone was looking at her like she’d almost died or something.

  “Your condition was very serious,” Chiboza said. “You very nearly died. Do you understand?” he asked, like she was a child.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to take his condescending act and hit the road, but he drew himself up in the chair and looked for all his 5 feet 5 inches like a man only a moron would cross.

  “Do you understand?” he asked again. He wasn’t treating her like a child but like someone who might be disoriented. And she was, she realized. She’d lost almost an entire day. She felt like hell. She couldn’t concentrate. And there was this cold feeling in her gut and in her bones, like when she’d gone in her basement to flip the breakers. She wanted to call it dread but it seemed ridiculous to feel dread when the sun was shining outside and she was with Emmett, in this comfy kitchen that smelled like coffee and bacon.

  “I was possessed,” she said, the words sounding unreal.

  Chiboza nodded solemnly.

  Emmett’s hand tightened on the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry,” he said, but she didn’t look at him. She watched Chiboza.

  “Does this have to do with my house?” Emmett seemed to believe whatever they were telling her, so she gave it an honest effort, wanting to trust him. But possessed? Seriously? It just sounded so religious and insane.

  “I believe it does, though I do not think you need to worry any longer. I believe the entities are gone now. To be on the safe side, though, I would suggest you not stay there alone until Nicholas can sweep it for activity.”

  “He didn’t find anything last night—er, two nights ago,” she said. “He told me whatever was there was gone.”

  “Not gone, per se,” Nick said. “I just thought it might be regrouping. But now I think it might have hitched a ride on you. That’s why we didn’t find anything the other night.” He was leaning on the counter, nervously picking at a belt loop on his shorts. He looked at his mentor. “But where did it go? If the entity that called itself Mercy was in her, and now it’s not, where did it end up? And what about the demon?”

  “Demon?” she asked in a flat voice. This couldn’t be happening. She was having a calm discussion with her boyfriend and his friend and some theology professor about demons and hauntings. All while her stomach was on the verge of turning itself inside out with hunger. She forked in a huge mouthful, deciding the guys could talk it all out while she refueled.

  “The body of the crow is on the roof,” Chiboza said. “Who is to know where the demon went. The important thing is, it cannot hurt any of us.” He looked pointedly at Jade. “Not anymore. We must trust that the angel took care of the demon and its minion.”

  Her throat stuck on a swallow, and she coughed. Emmett pounded her back until a piece of scrambled egg flew out of her mouth and bounced on the table. “What the hell are you all talking about?” she asked. “Demons, minions, angels? Dead crows? Have you lost your minds?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Chiboza said. “We determined there was a demon named Draonius who sent its minion, Mercy, to pseudo-possess you. I arrived last night and found your spirit gone from your body, which usually means death. But an angel named Joshua was protecting you.”

  She remembered reading about a young man named Joshua in the article in the library. There hadn’t been a picture on the microfiche, but a face popped into her mind anyway, the startled face she’d seen in her bathroom mirror. Did it make her gullible or just plain crazy that she was considering believing all this?

  “It was his idea that I marry you and Mr. Herald,” Chiboza was saying, “thus bringing your spirit under the protection of his Christianity. You are now permanently bound to each other, body and spirit. When you apply for your state license, I will gladly sign and notarize everything.” He rose from the table, drained his mug, and handed it to Nick. “I must be going. I will compose a letter to excuse you from your final exam,” he said to Nick. “You’ll arrange a make-up test with your professor. Your assistance was very much appreciated.” He hefted a backpack over his shoulder and said, “Good luck to you, Mr. and Mrs. Herald.” His wide mouth quirked in an almost-smile, and then he left.

  Jade’s breakfast made some noise in her stomach. “Is he for real?” She could not possibly be married. To Emmett. Who she’d only known a week and some change. Who was claiming he’d married her because she’d been so unworthy that a demon had possessed her and his goodness was the only thing that could save her. What a crock of insulting shit.

  “As real as a heart attack,” Nick said.

  “I think you mean serious,” Emmett said. “It’s ‘Serious as a heart attack.’”

  “How’s this for serious as a heart attack,” she said. “We are not married. This is crazy. You all are high or something. Is there a gas leak in your house? Carbon monoxide? We should probably all go outside and breathe some fresh air.” She nodded resolutely, but couldn’t bring herself to leave her plate behind. Picking it up, she started to push back her chair. She was getting out of this nuthouse, and she was taking breakfast with her.

  Emmett stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Believe it, babe. We’re married.” A flicker of his usual charm made it through the apology in his eyes. “I proposed. You said yes. We said vows and everything.”

  “It was really beautiful,” Nick said. “Except for the possession part.”

  She rolled her eyes at Nick and glared at Emmett. This wasn’t funny anymore. Hell, it hadn’t been funny in the first place. “Did I spew green gunk all over my wedding dress? What happened to my veil when my head spun around?”

  “Please don’t make light of this,” Emmett said, taking her plate and setting it down. “I almost lost you.” He gathered both her hands in his and caressed her knuckles with his strong fingers.

  Maybe it should have felt comforting, but his grip was like the trap closing around her. She felt suffocated and judged. And most of all, she hated him for making her want to believe this nonsense even if just a little bit.

  Wrenching her hands away, she kicked her chair back. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to say? I wake up this morning and you tell me I was possessed! And that we’re married! Gee, how romantic, Emmett. Thanks for giving up your comfortable bachelor life to take demon slaying to a whole new level. God is going to be so thrilled with you. You probably have wings waiting for you somewhere up there.” She threw her arms in the air and turned on Nick. “What was your gift for the bride and groom, huh? A crucifix? A monogrammed Bible? Were you like, the best man or something? Did your responsibilities include tying the possessed bride to the bed and straightening the groom’s halo?” She wheeled on Emmett. “Why don’t I remember any of this? Why are you all so in-sane? We are not married. I cannot be married.” Her chest shuddered with panicky breaths. The muscles in her legs bunched with the urge to escape.

  When Emmett took a step toward her, his face was wounded and concerned instead of angry. That was the last straw. She could
have handled angry. It would be no problem to run from angry. Damn him for making her feel like a jerk for running.

  She turned and flew from the room anyway, retreating upstairs to look for her phone and keys. If he was going to make her feel like a jerk with those compassionate eyes, she might as well live up to it.

  “Jade,” he yelled, his voice at the bottom of the stairs. She ignored him and stuffed the few articles of clothing she’d had littered on the floor into her carryon bag.

  She heard Nick say, “Give her a few minutes, man.”

  “Fuck that,” Emmett said, and the sound of his hushed cursing unwound a little of her tension. “She’s my wife, and she’s hurting. Can you blame her? She’s been through hell and back, and she doesn’t even remember it.”

  His footsteps started up the stairs, and she had mixed feelings about seeing him. He was coming after her, and she liked that, but he’d supposedly married her just to get her un-possessed, and she was pissed as hell at what that said about his opinion of her. Marriage should be something special two people do because they love each other, not a formality to undertake to kick a demon out. Not to mention, who was Emmett to think he was better than her because he was a Christian? What an ass. She didn’t buy that a demon or minion or whatever was forced to leave her body just because holier-than-thou Emmett married her in a pinch. And she didn’t believe they were actually married. She would remember getting married. There had to be some other explanation for this craziness.

  Emmett came up into the room. She refused to look at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Leaving. What does it look like?” She zipped up her bag and patted the front pockets. Where were her damn keys?

  “Please don’t,” he said, and his voice was pained. She chanced a look at him, and he looked so dejected, her heart kicked.

  The muffled musical tones of his phone in his pocket saved her from having to respond. “Aren’t you going to get that?” she asked, when it seemed he was going to ignore it.