With all the commotion of having lost her body, they didn’t come when I hammered Annabeth’s door shut.
In the closet, Annabeth’s wedding gown hung flat and lifeless.
That’s all I would have ever felt in this life, if I’d continued to go on without her. A cloak of skin over bones with no purpose or emotion driving me. My soul had died with Annabeth.
Taking a gun propped against the bed, I sat in the floor of the closet, the long train bustled behind me.
“Lord.” I paused, taking in a shaky breath. “My life is pointless if she’s not breathing. Forgive me.”
A comforting weight rested on my shoulders, then floated away. With peace settling around me, I held the gun between my legs.
There would be no more pain.
Not in that lifetime, anyway.
Epilogue
Over the next few lifetimes, when puberty set in, I seemed to wake from a long sleep, a dream of a life that hadn’t been mine. I’d been playing the role of some human I didn’t know when reality hit me. When it did, I always found my way home.
Working quietly at the Rollins Manor, the house I’d known as home for over a hundred years, I kept my vow to never make contact with Annabeth.
I was never really alone.
I had a voice inside my head, or an apparition following me at every turn, tormenting me to insane extents.
Throughout those years, to keep myself occupied, I accrued so many degrees a wall wouldn’t have held all the plaques. Just to name a few, I received a doctorate in medicine, a Ph.D. in psychology, and a Juris Doctor, Master of Laws and Doctor of Juridical Science. I applied to take the bar examination in Tennessee, but sat outside the testing center as other students in colorful shirts and bell bottom pants passed.
No matter what I did to fill the void of space and time without Annabeth, it would always be empty. And I’d always do the same thing. Miss her.
The second time I killed myself out of grief, I wasn’t sure I’d come back. I really didn’t care if I did.
The face of a woman I hated was always in the mirror behind me, but when I turned to look, she was gone. The brush of her hands was always on my skin, though I could never brush it away. Endless whispers of love turned my stomach with every passing day.
And an endless hunger that came with my body mutating into a monster no one could ever love left me empty.
I wanted it to be gone. I wanted to be gone.
After a couple decades of the same circular existence, I lasted a little longer with each lifetime. Each day was the same. Boring, though modern technology offered plenty of toys to keep the male mind occupied. But my mind was a bit different than the normal male mind.
In the beginning, I’d thought insanity had surely taken me to depths irretrievable.
When people walked past, odd jumbled sentences flowed through my mind. I could only figure that the animal I became was still inside me when I was in human form, and that it had advanced senses.
I could hear thoughts of other humans and had an uncanny way with animals.
After so many lifetimes, I began to develop those senses into something I could use.
Through social settings, I learned to make people do what I wanted them to do by some sort of telepathic suggestion, placed thoughts inside their head, and with extensive practice, to erase bits and pieces of their memory.
Those senses helped me hide when the animal under my skin decided he no longer wanted to stay put and to search out a girl with a crescent moon birthmark. Not a lot of those existed. And with eternity to do nothing, I spent it doing exactly the opposite.
If all of Grace’s taunting was true, then a girl who embodied Annabeth’s soul was out there somewhere.
In a moment of weakness, I found her and met with her once in a library in New York City. The second I touched her arm and she looked into my eyes, my soul recognized her, though her appearance was a bit different.
Her hair was blond this time. Not the kind of fake white blond most models wore, but a golden cascade of curls down her back. Her eyes were blue, and on her neck was an easy target. A little crescent moon.
She had no idea who I was. As Grace had promised in what I thought had been one of her many insane ramblings.
I talked with her of the Manor. My job there. The previous owners. Just dropping tidbits of information to see if it triggered anything for her, but in the end it was simply fascinating conversation.
We found ourselves in the upper levels of the library in each other’s arms. She didn’t give me much chance to try to hold back a hundred years of frustration.
“I’ve never done this.” Her brown cheeks darkened further. Her lips curved into a shy smile, but she took my hand. “I don’t know how, but I feel like I know you, and if I don’t take this chance, I’ll hate myself forever.”
For the rest of the evening, nothing existed but us in that library.
“Is it possible to fall in love with someone you just met?” she said.
A whisper from inside my head jolted me away from the sofa. “You’ve touched and now the curse is triggered. Just a few more words, and I’ll have her body. Tell her you love her. I’m sure she’ll say it back.”
“What’s wrong?” Annabeth gathered her clothes to her.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Just like a guy.”
I couldn’t remember what she’d told me her name was that time around. So, for the first time I was like all other guys. But it was probably the only time I’d ever been accused of it.
“No, I have to go to the bathroom. Hold that thought.”
I found the roof and jumped off.
Grace would have had no reason to want Annabeth if I was dead.
So I saved her.
She would have been so pissed if she’d known the truth.
In the next life, I kept my vow. Keeping to myself, I went home and tried to mind my own business.
Until Ava Rollins forced her way into my life.
The Rollins Plantation’s name had changed to Rolling Hills Manor.
I walked in the main entrance and found Ava yelling at the interior workers. “I swear if any of you had brains, you’d be dangerous. This elevator has been in use since my Great, Great, Great Grandfather built this house. Most of you have been here at least twenty years, and you still don’t know how to perform maintenance on it.”
I put my duffel bag down. “If you’d step aside, I’m sure with a screw driver, a can of oil, and some TLC, I can get her up and going for you in ten minutes.”
Ava poised a finely manicured hand on her perfect hip and poked her chin in my direction. “Four of these gentleman, including the head groundskeeper, have been working on her for two hours and can’t get her moving. If you can in ten minutes, you have a job.”
I stepped through them and took the tools from their hands.
In eight minutes, I had her purring the way she had when she was original to the house.
“If any of you dumbasses could work like he had, we’d get a lot more done around here,” she said.
“You would probably get a lot more done if you’d treat them with more kindness.” I couldn’t help it. This woman needed some direction. This house and its curses needed to end. They could with her.
She turned to me. “Do you want to be hired and fired in the same day?”
“It looks like you need me more than I need you. Now, would you mind terribly if I stay in that little dilapidated cottage out back?” I picked up my bag.
Her mouth dropped open.
The head groundskeeper searched through his set of keys, took the key off, and handed it to me. The rest of the workers stared wide-eyed between me and Mrs. Rollins.
“Get back to work before I fire you all.” She turned on her high heel and sauntered through the vestibule.
The farm part of Rolling Hills Manor had closed, other than the apple orchards.
I
worked them more than I did anything. I tried to stay away from Ava, for she reminded me of Grace in many ways. I had to contend with Grace’s voice inside my head and all around me enough as it was.
After a few years, though, I couldn’t help but come to respect Ava. She reminded me of Annabeth’s mother with even more decades of sadness heaped on her shoulders.
As if she somehow knew I was different than the other workers or that I was part of her heritage, she was more patient with me. She barked orders to every other person in the house, but I normally could carry on a full conversation with her without the first flagrancy tossed in my direction.
She was a force to contend with in an argument, though, just like her ancestor Annabeth Rollins. If I didn’t feel like talking, she found a way to make me.
Just like she made me tell her all about myself, my lives, and how I could never search out the only person I could ever really love. After I finished the last of my epic tale, I should have known a plan had formed in that demented mind of hers when she walked away from me, humming happily.
Because Ava never hummed.
And she was never happy.
Meet the Author
Odessa Gillespie Black lives in the beautiful North Carolina foothills with her husband, four children, Chihuahuas Little Bit and Rico, and rescued Lab and Pit mix, Mo. When not chasing dogs around the backyard and tackling the daily duties of mother-and-wife-hood, she enjoys watching horror movies, and reading and writing paranormal romance. Readers can visit Odessa’s website at odessablack.wordpress.com, and find her on Facebook.
Be sure not to miss Book 1 in Odessa Gillespie Black’s Cursed series.
EVER AFTER
Their love is one for the ages.
In order to fully inherit a millionaire’s fortune, Allie Knowles must survive a month on her property—easier said than done when the enormous house is haunted by a violent ghost who claims to know Allie. But the true mystery lies with Cole Kinsley, the handsome groundskeeper. Cole and Allie have never met, though he’s been driving her wild in her dreams for years. Yet now, every effort to get closer to him pushes him further away…
Cole has only ever loved one soul and that love has endured for centuries. Now that soul rests within Allie’s body and it takes everything in his power not to confess the truth. For her presence has put them both in mortal danger. Racing against the clock, Allie will have to break the ghost’s curse—or history will be doomed to repeat itself.
A Lyrical novel on sale now!
Learn more about Odessa at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31686
Chapter 1
Between dream and reality, I fumbled for my phone, knocking over my nightstand lamp in the process. The phone felt like a cold wrought iron handrail of a sweeping Victorian staircase from my dream. I shook off the feeling and answered. “Hello.”
“Allie, you have some mail here,” Mama said. “It’s marked urgent. From the Law Offices of Preston Dawkins of Nashville, Tennessee. You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“Seriously? When was the last time I was in trouble?” I righted the lamp and turned off my alarm. It was set for eleven AM, and I had two minutes before it blared some ridiculous talk show host’s voice in my ear.
Mama sighed and glasses clinked in the background. “Well, it’s odd it came here instead of your apartment. And you are too perfect. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Because I fell from the same tree as your other rotten apples doesn’t mean I have to be tainted, too. It’s probably junk mail.”
“Well, to ease an old woman’s mind, would you have time to come open it?”
“You’re not old. Let me put on some clothes.” A night of restless sleep had left me drained, so I wobbled as I stood. “You could always open it for me. I’m not going to convict you of a felony.”
“I’ll just wait. Besides, it’s a good excuse to see you.” She let out a laugh that had always made my less than desirable childhood experiences bearable.
I hung up and fumbled around, looking for my other shoe. Every morning, after that stupid recurring dream, my chest ached, and the cramped one-bedroom apartment was even lonelier. Most psychology books would instruct me to go to a club with people my age and fraternize more.
Outside, a mixture of baby diapers and rotten salmon patties scented the air. Even breathing through my mouth hadn’t helped. The dumpster next to the apartment overflowed. The little two-door monstrosity, which the local car lot had called the best car there, fired to life. Welcoming the fresh air, I cranked the window down as I made my way to Mama’s.
* * * *
“And you’ve never heard of her?” Mama and I eyed the letterhead, the address, and the body of the letter.
“Nope. She’s no long-lost relative of mine.” Mama scanned from over my shoulder. “But it has a legal letterhead, and it appears real.”
“If it’s too good to be true, then it probably is.” I tossed the letter to the center of the chipped Formica table along with the enclosed plane ticket.
“She might be leaving you a million dollars.” Mama smirked as she shoved a sandwich, a banana, and a bottle of water in a lunchbox.
“Or it’s an elaborate sorority prank.”
“You know, I always thought you were meant for more than this.” Her gaze darted toward Daddy as her voice dropped to a whisper. “It may be a case of mistaken identity, and even if the woman leaves you her most valuable cross-stitched quilt, it’s a trip you’ve never taken before. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“Never say that when someone is about to board a plane.”
“That’s my girl.” Mama kissed my forehead. “Now I can’t be late, or I’ll be fired.”
“Love you.”
The screen door slammed behind her.
According to the letter, a video of the deceased reading her will would be shown at the funeral. Apparently, she wanted me to witness it.
A few days later, I boarded a plane to Nashville, Tennessee.
* * * *
A cold, murky thickness surrounded me. Seconds felt like minutes, and my lungs burned under the water.
Mud suctioned against my feet as I trudged forward.
Through the frothy murk, a rectangular box emerged, a casket of rotting wood and rusted latches embedded in green sludge.
My heart did a staccato against my chest, and my lungs burned deeper. My hands grabbed the wooden hatch on the coffin, and the latches broke free.
I pushed the lid upward, and the corpse’s hair lifted with the current. Through the settling hair, leathery gray skin stretched across a deformed skull.
My feet were trapped in mud. Though observing the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen, I couldn’t swim away. A large rock pinned down a decomposing corpse in a long white dress.
My hair tangled around my face as my hands pulled the rock from the box. With a steady jerk, they severed what was left of the rope preventing the body’s escape. I willed my hands to stop, but they wouldn’t.
I shook my head frantically.
The hands that had disobeyed me weren’t mine.
I tried to push up from the bottom of the watery grave, but a force too strong to fight compelled me to stand erect, motionless.
The hands reattached themselves to the forearms of the corpse. Skin and tendons snaked together and pulsated to create unity. The fingers wiggled as the corpse tried them on. The long slender fingers grasped the side of the coffin.
A sucking, popping noise pulsated from the corpse’s neck as it turned its head toward me. The eyelids popped open, revealing large yellowed orbs with white irises.
Thin leathery bands of flesh stretched back into a leering smile.
The rotting corpse rose from the bottom of the coffin with stiff jerky movements. Her face changed and death fell away, little by little, but not enough. She still looked like a dead girl, but she had been beautiful in life. Her
skeletal cheekbones became covered in whitish-blue skin, and her eyes blacked out, hollow.
She no longer had difficulty moving through the water.
Propelling myself backward, I stumbled, and my bottom hit the muck. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. Dirty water filled my mouth, gagging me. I yanked free of the impossible suction.
She leaned in toward me with her arms outstretched.
With all I had, I flailed against the water to get away.
Under the black depths, a voice that could only be hers blasted through my skull as I reached for the surface. “You have something that belongs to me.”
My fingers scraped against the rough embankment, and jagged rocks cut into my knees. Grass and tree roots gave me anchor as I dug my way out of the pond. I gasped and coughed until I caught my breath. Behind me, the corpse stood motionless at the water’s edge, eyes now black and expressionless.
When I turned to run, a guy with no face appeared. He was the same sweet guy from all my recurring dreams, but this time he was desperate.
“I never belonged to her,” he said. “You have to forgive me.”
His face shifted in and out, giving me an unclear picture of what he looked like, but bright green eyes shined through the vision.
The landing gear skidded across the pavement.
I jumped awake.
The arms of the plane seats were slick, and my shirt was damp with sweat.
Recurring nightmares had found me any time I closed my eyes since I’d received the letter. I’d liked having only the faceless young man dominating my dreams much better. These made no sense.
No one seemed to notice my abrupt jerk awake. The little bald man on one side of me smiled, and on the other side, the elderly lady’s face pinched in irritation.
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