Whispering Hearts

by Cassandra Chandler

  “Okay, that makes sense.”

  “Good.” She took a deep breath and went on. “Ghosts tend to think of themselves in terms of their human existence. Doorways and windows are obvious ways to get into someone’s house. Warding them keeps ghosts from being able to enter and usually stops them from even seeing or hearing anything that goes on inside.”

  “What if a ghost doesn’t see themselves as human?”

  She shivered as she remembered her conversations about the topic with Hiram. Garrett was dealing with so much. She didn’t want to burden him with yet more knowledge that most people never had to deal with.

  “You don’t want to tell me. I can feel it.”

  “I would rather protect you from knowing this.”

  “I think I’ve proven by now that you can tell me anything. I can handle it.”

  She nodded, then said, “If a ghost stops thinking of themselves in human terms, their soul devolves. Over time, they become what most people think of as demons. Different rules apply. They are much more dangerous than ghosts. Thankfully, it’s very, very rare for a ghost to become a demon.”

  “Okay. That’s a pretty scary thought.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’d rather know—be prepared for it if something comes up.”

  “Well, hopefully we’ll never need to worry about that. Anyway, Hiram told me that everything is kind of foggy on the other side. Trying to look through doors and windows is a little bit like looking through frosted glass. Unless it’s warded, and then it’s all opaque. But mirrors make everything crystal clear. And they glow on the other side.”

  “Do you like beards?”

  She blinked at the sudden shift in topic. Her penchant for non sequiturs might be rubbing off on him.

  “I guess they’re okay.”

  “Good. Because I doubt I’ll be shaving again anytime soon.”

  He gave her a small smile and she laughed, grateful for him easing the tension of the moment.

  “So that’s why you can see ghosts in reflections. Because those are the real windows from the other side?”

  “Exactly. That’s also why I have to be so careful around reflective surfaces. Mirrors especially can act like a sort of amplifier. Ghosts can use a mirror to get to a place or person they don’t already know. I cover them so that I don’t see anything disturbing and so they can’t see me in a warded environment. If I tried to ward one and did it wrong…”

  Her skin crawled at the thought. She knew some psychics used mirrors extensively in their work. With her already amplified abilities, putting any sort of energy on a mirror seemed like a colossally bad idea. Not until she had learned more. Had more practice.

  Garrett squeezed her hand. She could feel him willing reassuring energy into her and welcomed it gladly.

  “Then we keep the mirror covered and we don’t mess up the line of salt. Got it.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “Doesn’t matter. One way or another, we’re getting this done now.”

  She nodded, then turned back to the door.

  Strangely, when Misha had been an unknown, she was less nervous around him. Not as much was at stake when she thought she was just talking to an easygoing ghost who was hanging around like Hiram had been.

  But Misha wasn’t like Hiram. She was certain of it.

  Which meant one of two things. Either the ghost in the guest room was Garrett’s brother Dylan and they were about to have an emotional reunion—or the ghost was a stranger pretending to be a friend.

  As much as she hated the thought of Dylan lingering, the second was infinitely more frightening. One way or another, they needed to know.

  With a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold. Garrett followed right behind her.

  “Misha? Are you here?”

  No one answered.

  She walked deeper into the room, holding tight to Garrett’s hand. “Misha, we’d like to talk to you.”

  After another few moments of silence, Garrett spoke up. “Dylan? Is that you?”

  Still nothing.

  “He might not be here,” Rachel said. “I asked him to find the spirits of the women who are haunting me and tell them I want to talk. Maybe he decided to help with that after all.”

  “I’d like a few words with them myself. They need to stop stirring up bugs and snakes. Immediately.”

  When Garrett had offered to look intimidating, Rachel had laughed it off. Seeing the look on his face at that moment was anything but amusing. His jaw was set, brow drawn together and lips in a tight line. She could practically see lightning sparking from his eyes.

  He might be able to scare ghosts after all.

  “We should hear them out first. Try to talk. If they ever show up, that is.”

  She glanced around the room. No reflective surfaces to try to catch a glimpse of ghosts. No voices. Nothing.

  “I don’t want to have to do a summoning,” Rachel said. “Those always ruffle the ghost’s feathers, so to speak.”

  “I read a little about those in the books you loaned me. It sounded like an involved process.”

  “It can be. Or it can be a simple one, depending on how you go about it. I don’t go in for show. My rituals are always simple and practical. Like the poppets and saltwater.”

  “I didn’t know that qualified.”

  “If you do it in the right mindset, anything can be a ritual.”

  They could just wait for Misha to return, but who knew how long that would take. Rachel was already feeling antsy.

  “Maybe I could use a rune…”

  “Like a Norse rune?”

  Rachel had always felt a pull to runes and collected volumes dedicated solely to their use. But they weren’t mentioned in any of the books about ghosts she had loaned Garrett.

  “How do you know about runes?”

  He snorted, then gestured down the length of his body. “Witness my heritage.”

  She laughed, leaning into his broad chest. “Just because your ancestors were Nordic doesn’t mean you’ve read up on them. And runes are a pretty obscure subject.”

  “With a last name like Wolfstrom, I was curious. I’ve read a bunch of myths. Runes came up from time to time. The stories made them seem powerful and dangerous.”

  “Anything powerful can be dangerous. The trick with runes is to use them with the correct intention.”

  “I stand enlightened.”

  She laughed again, until a sudden icy feeling shot through her. Looking around the room, she sought out the threat.

  “What is it?” Garrett asked.

  “Misha?”

  “I found them!” Misha’s voice sounded even younger, a sure sign that he was in distress, even without the urgency in his tone. If this wasn’t Dylan, it was someone who had been carrying a lot of emotional baggage when he died.

  “Hello, Misha.” Rachel tried to keep her voice calm. She wanted Garrett to be part of the conversation as much as possible, even though she also wanted to shield him from what might be said. “Thank you for finding the ghosts for me. I still want to talk to them, but I’d like to speak with you first.”

  “There’s no time to talk. They’re getting ready to act.”

  The near-panic in his voice confused her. He sounded as if she and Garrett were in imminent danger. What could the spirits possibly do to hurt them? Glancing around the room, she didn’t see any animals or bugs. Unless the ghosts had found a herd of rhinoceroses to stampede into the house, they seemed fairly safe.

  “The house is warded,” Rachel began.

  “They aren’t just after you. They’re mad at Elsa for escaping too.”

  “What?”

  Garrett pulled Rachel closer. “What is it? What’s he saying?”

  “Misha, what are the ghosts p
lanning to do to Elsa? How are they going to harm her?”

  “Christ,” Garrett hissed.

  “By going after Dante. He’s in surgery and they’re controlling insects that they’ve hidden in the room. They’re going to startle the doctors while they’re cutting him.”

  “Oh God…” Rachel shook her head. This was too awful.

  Dante had already had one emergency surgery after Michael had shot at him. Even though the bullet missed, it hit nearby mason jars full of debris. The shrapnel had hit Dante in the face.

  The only reason he needed surgery in the first place was because he tried to save Rachel. She didn’t know he was going back under so soon. It had only been two months.

  Her cell phone was on the bedside table. Rachel dove for it and dialed Elsa’s number. Nothing happened. She looked at the screen and saw that there wasn’t a signal.

  “Garrett, we have to warn Elsa.”

  “Hold up a minute. What is he saying? Warn Elsa about what?”

  “The ghosts of those women aren’t just mad at me. They want payback against Elsa too.”

  “What! Why?”

  “Michael wanted both of us. And we lived.”

  Garrett’s forehead crinkled and she heard his teeth grind together.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “I don’t know! I can’t get a signal to warn her. Where’s your phone?”

  “In my bedroom.” He had already turned and was headed for the door. In his haste, he scuffed the salt line in the threshold. “Dammit!”

  “I’ll fix it later. We don’t have time to waste.”

  They ran to his room and he picked up his phone. As he looked at the screen, his shoulders slumped.

  “No signal.”

  “Have you ever had that happen before?”

  “No. Maybe one of the towers got hit in last night’s storm?”

  Rachel shook her head. Her stomach was doing somersaults. “It’s possible that the ghosts are messing with the signal. But that’s a good thing. If they’re here messing with our signals, they can’t be at the hospital.”

  “Hospital?”

  The urgency in his voice had spiked. She hadn’t filled him in on the vengeful spirits’ plan yet.

  “Misha said that Dante’s in surgery right now. The ghosts are planning to hurt him by distracting his doctors at the worst moment. They’ve already herded insects into the room. But if they can block cell signals, they’re more powerful than we imagined. Working together, they could do all sorts of things.”

  A single ghost that was this angry, this focused on revenge wouldn’t need to make a bug fly into a surgeon’s face. It’d be able to bump their hand, maybe even throw scalpels across the room. It could kill the lights, bite or claw at someone, give them a chill at just the wrong moment.

  And more than one was after her. After Elsa.

  All of the research Rachel had done on hauntings by angry spirits surged up from the back of her mind. All of her memories of her own experiences. She had shoved them away so that she wouldn’t be too terrified to ever leave her house.

  Garrett pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “Take a breath and calm down.”

  He was feeding steady emotions into her. Calmer than her own, but tinged with fear. They still helped, and she let them in, using them like an anchor to keep from being pulled into the memories that clawed at her mind.

  “They might be able to move things.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

  “What?”

  She stepped away and took that deep breath he suggested. As she let it out, she made herself focus. Solutions. That was what they needed.

  “It’s possible that one or more of them has become a poltergeist. If so, they’ll be able to move things. Nothing too heavy, but in a room full of surgical equipment…” She shook her head, her imagination taking her to places too dark to think about. “How fast can you get us to the hospital?”

  “Twenty minutes. But Dante shouldn’t be back in surgery for another couple of weeks. He has to heal before they can do anything else.”

  “Something must have already gone wrong, then. Misha says he’s being operated on now.”

  “Shit.” Garrett started to pace.

  “We have to get to the hospital to warn them. We can ward the room to keep Dante safe while they work.”

  “No, I will ward the room. If these ghosts can throw around scalpels, they might have tricked Misha to lure you into a trap. Plus the hospital staff won’t let you into the OR. They’re not going to like me spreading salt in the doorways, either.”

  Garrett ran his hands through his hair, leaving them on top of his head so his bangs were pulled back from his face. “I don’t know how to help him.”

  “If you can at least be there, maybe you can run interference. You’ll know that something might go wrong.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides. “I won’t leave you alone in the city. You’ll be swamped by ghosts.”

  “Then I’ll stay here. I can re-cleanse the house and put the wards back up. Elsa and Dante will need a safe place to stay anyway. And Winston and Leo. When Dante is able to be moved, you can bring them all home with you. I’ll keep trying to call so I can warn them. Maybe talk them through setting up some wards of their own.”

  She could sense how torn he was—wanting to help his friends and facing the overpowering urge to protect her. Pulling him into a hug, she said, “I’ll be okay. Misha is here and seems to genuinely want to help. He can warn me if they start to focus on something more than blocking the cell signal.”

  Honestly, she’d be the safest one of them all. She hated the idea of staying behind, but at the same time, she didn’t know what would happen if she went back to the city now.

  All of her mental energy would be spent just sifting through the voices that would undoubtedly be piled on top of each other vying for her attention. And she doubted the ghosts of Michael’s victims were the only ones savvy enough to make physical contact.

  She remembered all the pinching and shoving, invisible hands grabbing at her wherever she went. She had to stop thinking about this. If Garrett sensed her fear, he’d never go.

  Instead, she willed her determination into him. They were going to help their friends. She would make a haven for them when they returned. Garrett would make a temporary safe spot for Dante in the hospital. They could do this.

  “I get it,” he said. “Enough with the psychic pep talk. I’ll go.”

  She followed him to the foyer. He quickly pressed his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. Then he grabbed his wallet and keys from the table and headed for the car.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  At barely lunch time, the sky was so dark it looked to be dusk. Clouds hung above—thick and heavy, and low enough he felt he could reach up and touch them. Garrett’s grip on the wheel was turning his knuckles white. Twenty minutes to the hospital meant he was driving fast enough that there was no room for error.

  The sky opened up as soon as he had the thought.

  “Shit!”

  Water hit the windshield like a tidal wave. His instincts told him to slam on the brakes, but he refused to listen. His arms tried to spasm from the jolt of adrenaline in his already saturated system. Years of training and experience helped him control his response.

  Surprises happened in the ER all the time. Twitching could cost someone their life. In this case, it would be his.

  He eased up on the gas pedal and let gravity and the weight of the car slow him down steady and safe. Florida might be full of bugs and snakes, but at least it was flat. Hills and ditches could have meant disaster.

  Even though the road had to be slick, it traveled through the countryside in a straight line toward the city. All he had to do was keep himself calm and let physics do the work for him.

>   When the speedometer was in a more reasonable range, he turned on his wipers and checked his bearing. He was driving down the center of the road, but at least he wasn’t close to running off either side. Rain that thick would turn the ground to quicksand as far as his car was concerned.

  The wipers swung furiously back and forth over the glass. The deluge instantly replaced the water they flung away. Lightning crackled right next to his car, bright enough to blind him briefly. Thunder pounded his eardrums right after.

  “Fuck!”

  This time, his nerves got the better of him and the wheel twitched to the side. The roads were as slick as he thought. The back end of the car swung around so that he was facing the wrong direction.

  His momentum kept him going, coasting backward down the straight road. He used the passenger’s seat headrest for leverage as he twisted around to look out the back window and keep himself on the asphalt.

  He said a silent prayer of thanks that he lived far enough out of town that the roads to and from his home were deserted on weekdays. Gently hitting the brakes, he slowed the car to a crawl. He was planning to stop it, but was too stunned when bright sunshine dazzled his eyes.

  Turning back to face the front of the car, he finally stepped on the brake fully, his inertia making the seatbelt pull across his chest. Steam was already rising from the hood as the summer sun heated the water running down its surface.

  Rain while the sun was shining wasn’t new to him. But this… This was something else. Garrett put the car in park and stepped out so he could see the sky.

  In front of him, a wall of dark gray clouds rose up through the atmosphere—a smooth wall that curved away from him. It was like the storm was centered right over his house. A house where Rachel was trapped. Alone.

  Well, not exactly alone. She was with Dylan.

  Or Misha…

  A sick feeling filled Garrett’s stomach, spreading out through his body. Something was very wrong. Beyond the bugs, the snakes, the storm, the pissed off ghosts behind it all. They were missing something.

  Dante’s doctors were at the top of their fields. Garrett had hooked Dante up personally, calling in every possible favor to ensure he received the best care. If Garrett could keep himself from wrecking during that freakish storm, Dante’s surgeons could handle a moth in the face or a poke in the ribs. They were trained to deal with distractions, power outages, emergencies.