Whispering Hearts

by Cassandra Chandler

  “You about ready?”

  When she heard Garrett’s voice, she let out a little yell and fell backwards onto her bottom. He ran to her and knelt at her side.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. Large, strong, warm. The hair on her arms stood on end as a shiver of pleasure swept through her body.

  His eyes were dark blue. Deep and rich, like the ocean. But warmer than the waters she had known.

  He was ridiculously gorgeous. His face had the perfect symmetry of a model, his jaw and bone structure as strong as a superhero’s. And he was built. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, but not too bulky.

  When he hugged her, he enveloped her. It made her feel safe.

  The ideas that sprang into her mind when he touched her were the hardest to handle. Her imagination tortured her with a future she had no right to think about. At least when it came to him.

  “How are you here?” she asked.

  Garrett was always there when she needed someone. Even when she didn’t ask. He always knew.

  “Well, it took some poking around, since none of the staff was of a mind to help me. But if I stayed in that room with your mom another minute…” He let out a sigh through his nose, his lips tight. “Let’s just say I might have turned ungentlemanly.”

  She couldn’t imagine Garrett being anything but gentle. Case in point, he cupped her elbows and helped her to her feet. Her hands wound up resting on his chest. She couldn’t stop staring into his eyes.

  He grinned, the lopsided smirk making her heart feel like dandelion seeds. The two of them could float away on a trail of gossamer white to a place where they could put down roots, enjoy the warm sun, press themselves closer together…

  “You keep looking at a guy like that, you might give him the wrong idea.” His smile vanished as pain and worry shoved it aside. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I forgot for a minute…”

  “Forgot?”

  Oh right. Her ex-boyfriend, Michael. The ex-person, thanks to her.

  Her hands curled into fists and she dropped her gaze to Garrett’s feet. She started to pull away, but he gently tightened his grip on her elbows. Just enough to get her attention and make her pause.

  “Have you been taking your medicine?”

  “It’s right there.”

  She pointed at the bedside table, to the army of bottles containing the exact amount of pills she should have left based on the instructions her doctors had given her. She disposed of several every day in case someone counted.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  She managed to look at him, then. “The longer we stay the more likely something will happen to keep me here. Please, Garrett. Can we just go? I want to go.”

  He nodded and let his hands drop from her arms. “Yeah. But I’m going to want to talk later.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She ran to the table and threw the bottles in her backpack to reassure him. They took up precious space, but getting away quickly was most important. If they took too long, the yard would be crowded with spirits by the time they made it outside. Everyone wanting something from her. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

  In a moment, she’d have nowhere left to run to.

  “Can you get the glass ball that’s hanging in the window?”

  He did as she asked, detaching her witch’s ball from the swag hook in the ceiling. He stared for a moment at the chords of blue-green glass that had been created inside the sphere. The strands were meant to catch and confuse spirits trying to enter the room.

  Taking down her witch’s ball would weaken her boundaries. She wasn’t sure how much. But she would need it wherever she ended up.

  Her heart pounded as they removed the strongest part of her defense. Leaving the others in place would buy her enough time to leave in peace—she hoped.

  “It’s pretty handy, being tall. You want this thing too?” He reached for the poppet.

  “No!”

  She took a few steps toward him, but stopped when he jerked his hand back from the doll. His puzzled look turned to concern. She would deal with that later too.

  “Rachel?” Her mother’s voice carried down the hallway.

  “Rachel…” The echo came from her closet.

  Rachel’s heart leapt to her throat. That was fast. Too fast.

  She grabbed the glass ball from Garrett and stuffed it in her backpack with her clothes, cushioning it as best she could. Her hands were shaking as she zipped everything shut. She grabbed her purse and a spray bottle full of saltwater from her desk.

  “Can you get the suitcase?” She slung her backpack over her shoulder.

  “Sure.” Garrett lifted her suitcase by the handle rather than wheeling it around. He nodded toward the spray bottle and said, “What’s that for?”

  “I’ll explain later. We have to go. Now.”

  The door to the bathroom slammed shut and they both started at the sound. It reminded her of the popping noise Michael’s gun had made.

  “Is there a window open in there?” Garrett asked.

  “No.” There were no windows in the bathroom at all.

  Too fast and too powerful.

  Rachel grabbed Garrett’s hand and pulled him toward the hallway. They needed to leave immediately. For that level of manifestation to take place so quickly…

  They must have been waiting for her. Waiting for her to let down her guard even a little. Like they had warned her they would.

  Her mother was already in the hallway, her small frame somehow taking up the entire space.

  “It is highly improper to have a gentleman in your bedroom.”

  Rachel froze. Her mother was a master manipulator. All she had to do to destroy Rachel was tell Garrett that the voices Rachel had heard in the hospital—the ones that made everyone think she was crazy—hadn’t gone away. Rachel doubted it would help if Garrett knew they had always been there.

  Voices of the dead.

  Garrett was a doctor. He would think in terms of pathologies and cures. He would take her back to the hospital, where the rooms and halls were filled with wandering spirits. She wasn’t sure her sanity would survive another stay.

  “Don’t let it trouble you.” Garrett squeezed Rachel’s hand, pulling her along. “We’re leaving.”

  He shouldn’t be the one facing off against her mother, but Rachel didn’t know if she was strong enough to do it herself. She knew what her mother was capable of and was terrified of the woman.

  In that moment though, she hated herself. Hated her weakness.

  The past few weeks were a gray blur of pain and despair. Her mother’s words only seemed like an anchor pulling Rachel deeper into the abyss. An abyss that was calling out to her.

  “Rachel…” she heard again.

  “And where are you taking her?” Rachel’s mother asked.

  “You don’t deserve to know,” Garrett said. Rachel had never heard him sound so angry. His hand was trembling, his grip tight. “I can’t believe you’re more concerned about bad publicity than your own daughter.”

  “Don’t leave us.” The voice was louder, closer. Then another spoke. “You’re supposed to be with us.” And another. “You were never supposed to leave.”

  The voices were right next to her. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh as she felt a breath of icy cold air on the back of her neck. She quickened her pace, but her mother followed along as Garrett led Rachel down the stairs into the foyer.

  “My daughter has already been abducted once,” her mother said. “I think that’s quite enough.”

  “Mother!” Rachel didn’t recognize the shriek that came from her mouth as she wheeled around. Her entire body was shaking. “Don’t you dare compare this with what happened to me,” she said. “Garrett
is trying to help, which is more than you’ve done since I came home.”

  Wherever Garrett was taking her had to be better than this—as long as it wasn’t back to the hospital. She was fine with whatever he had in mind. She trusted him.

  She didn’t trust anyone else in the house with the knowledge of where she would be. Why did her mother even care?

  Wait—she didn’t care. She was a merciless, vengeful woman. Rachel’s cheeks tingled as she understood her mother’s plan.

  Either get Garrett to say where he was taking Rachel, letting the spirits in the house overhear and seek her out to torment, or even better, watch Rachel slip up and mention the voices in front of him.

  It didn’t matter that her mother knew they were real from first-hand experience. Rachel had inherited her ability from her mother—not that the woman would ever let anyone know she was psychic. Without the moonstone earrings she always wore that somehow blocked the voices, her mother would hear the ghosts too.

  No, she didn’t want to know where Rachel would be. Her mother wanted to punish Rachel for leaving—like she’d punished Rachel for befriending spirits as a child.

  Rachel’s rage became a living thing inside her demanding release. Thoughts and feelings she had stifled for days, weeks, her entire life pressed against her lips. For one brief moment she wanted to know what it felt like to be free.

  She stepped in front of Garrett, walking right up to her mother. She had never noticed how small the woman was.

  “That’s the first time you even admitted that I was abducted,” Rachel said.

  She dropped her purse and the bottle of saltwater so she could pull the sweatbands off of her wrists.

  “I’m done. I’m done being a marketing prop. You want a picture?” She threw down the wristbands and held up her arms, revealing the shining red and white scars Michael had left behind. “Take one now!”

  Her mother’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. Rachel would remember that sight for the rest of her life. She felt a thrill of victory. Lillian Montgomery, speechless.

  “That’s why…” Garrett’s voice was almost a whisper, so soft Rachel thought at first it might be one of them.

  “That’s why she had you wearing the tennis outfit,” he said. “To match the wristbands. So no one would see and ask questions—no one would know what happened to you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Rachel bent down to pick up her things. “We’re leaving.”

  “It does matter!” Garrett stepped toward Rachel’s mom, glaring balefully. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  She knew Garrett had seen through Lillian’s act the first time the two spoke. It was one of the things Rachel loved about him. Her mother had never been able to fool him.

  Rachel had been watching him all night at the fundraiser, unable to pull her eyes away. She’d caught the look of revulsion on his face as he walked away from his exchange with her mother. Their gazes had locked across the room.

  He’d looked nervous, but Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes at him, then shrugged. His smile had been hesitant—the first one he’d directed at her. Butterflies had swarmed up from her stomach, words sticking in her throat.

  She had left early to avoid talking to him.

  Rachel put her free hand against his chest. Her voice was shaking. “Garrett, please.”

  “Where are you going, Rachel?” a voice said. Another whispered, “Where are you going?”

  Rachel’s heart lurched at the sound—at the low, even tone of the women’s voices—vaguely familiar. Three people in the hallway. Five voices.

  Garrett looked stricken as he gazed down at her. Rachel struggled to appear at least a little bit calm.

  “She’s your mother,” he said.

  Rachel cast one last glance over her shoulder at the woman who had given her life and then proceeded to make it a living hell.

  “Not anymore.”

  Lillian stiffened her spine, getting ready to light into them again. “I will not be spoken to in such a disrespectful manner in my house!”

  Garrett opened the door and tugged Rachel’s hand. “How about in your yard? Because we’re heading outside and if you want to follow us and keep being a royal bitch, you’ll have to come along.”

  Rachel wished she could laugh at the scandalized expression on Lillian’s face. But all she could think about was getting away.

  “Where are you going, Rachel?” The voice was in front of her.

  She ducked behind Garrett and quickened her pace, almost stepping on his heels as he led her down the front walkway.

  She was reminded of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. Garrett was braving the underworld to bring Rachel back to the world of the living. She had a feeling Hades was kinder than Lillian.

  Rachel kept her gaze on her feet and softly chanted, “Don’t look back. Don’t look back.”

  She matched Garrett’s pace until she felt the heat-soaked asphalt nearly scald her legs, burning her feet around her sandals. She walked a little faster.

  He led her to the far side of his car, into the green grass along the verge of the road. How long since she’d breathed fresh air?

  He set down her suitcase, then dug in his pocket for his keys. The car beeped as he hit the button to unlock it. He opened the back door and set her suitcase on the seat.

  “Let me help you.” He lifted her backpack from her shoulder.

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  He stared into her eyes and she knew they weren’t talking about her bag anymore. He set it in the car and closed the door without looking away.

  Her heart had been thumping like a jackrabbit since he asked her to come with him. The thumping turned to thunder as she realized he was still holding on to her hand. His grip was tight, as if he was afraid she would slip away.

  She had tried. Tried to stay out of his life—to leave him alone so he could find a nice normal woman to settle down with. But every time she thought he was moving on, something happened that brought them back together. Like now.

  Looking back at the house, she saw her mother standing in one of the front windows, arms crossed and condescending smile firmly in place. Hopefully that smile would fade when she realized that Rachel wasn’t coming back. One way or another, she was never coming back.

  Rachel stood a little straighter, determined to leave with her head held high. She tried to compose herself while staring at her mother—Lillian—before turning back to Garrett.

  The sun glared off the top of his silver car, blinding her for a moment. The car’s window reflected back the palm trees behind them, the open sky and white clouds above…and the two dead women standing over her shoulders.

  Blonde hair, blue eyes. Michael had a type.

  “Where are you going?”

  For a moment, Rachel could only stare in shock. Both women were gaunt, their skin absolutely white, which made the dark circles under their eyes stand out like livid bruises.

  The spirits lifted their arms for her to see. Their wrists were mangled, bloodied and torn in the same places Rachel’s had been.

  Michael’s victims. Two of the spirits who had begged Rachel not to kill him.

  “I’m sorry.” Rachel closed her eyes tight, tears spilling down her cheeks. Hearing the women Michael had killed was bad enough. Seeing them was unbearable.

  “Hey,” Garrett’s voice was so gentle it hurt. She felt him dust his knuckles over her cheeks, wiping away the tears—even though more quickly followed. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”

  “You have every reason to be sorry!” One of the ghosts shouted right next to Rachel, a blast of cold hitting the side of her neck.

  Her eyes snapped open as she pulled away from Garrett, lifting her spray bottle. He held up both hands and backed away as if she was holding a gun.

 
She wanted to laugh, but knew she would sound hysterical.

  “Didn’t we suffer enough, Rachel?” one of them asked. “You barely suffered at all!”

  The other said, “We told you what he did to us. We warned you not to kill him.”

  Rachel tried to ignore the voices. She knew she must look crazed to Garrett. Taking action would only make things worse.

  “You killed him anyway. You let him reach us,” the first one said.

  Rachel shook her head and tried to cover her ears without setting down her spray bottle.

  “Rachel, what’s going on?” Garrett asked. “Talk to me.”

  A voice hissed into her ear. “But now we can reach you!”

  Icy cold pressed against her wrists and around her neck. The spirits hadn’t figured out how to cause real damage yet. But they were trying.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Rachel started spraying in the direction of the voices, saturating the already salty air with concentrated saltwater. Any spirits in her immediate vicinity would be disrupted for a few moments at least—time she needed to use to her best advantage.

  She threw open the door and jumped into the back seat, spraying everything. The windows, the seats, the floor, the ceiling. She reached into the front and did the same thing.

  Garrett stood outside the car, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. How was she ever going to explain this?

  That was a problem for later.

  “Get in!” she yelled. “Get in and drive! Please!”

  As she slammed her door shut, he ran around to the driver’s seat. He slid behind the wheel and started the car, then peeled away from the curb. Maybe he was trying to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

  She would jump out of the car if it came to that. She wouldn’t go back to a place packed with spirits, with environments she couldn’t control. The vengeful spirits from her mother’s house would probably check the hospital first anyway.

  Rachel didn’t want to jump out of the car. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed.

  “Please don’t take me back to the hospital. They don’t know how to help me.”