The Ghost Hunter, a Paranormal Romance (The Hunter Series)

by Lori Brighton

  A whisper of wind swept through the trees rattling the branches like skeletons fighting to escape their coffins. Ashley wrapped her arm around herself and found the slate path that led around the pub. Bill obviously wasn’t here. Damn, but she was too tired to deal with more nonsense.

  Her foot landed on the first stepping stone when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Ashley froze, her heart hammering madly in her chest.

  She knew without a doubt someone was watching her.

  Slowly, she lifted her gaze and scanned the back of the pub. A dark shadow of a human form stood in the window above. It took her only a moment to realize the window was located in Cristian’s room. He was watching her; only Cristian. No ghosts. No demons. Just a man. Why didn’t that realization make her feel any better? She hesitated, wondering if she should acknowledge his presence with a nod or wave.

  Before she could decide, he turned and disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 13

  “Hello?”

  Ashley knocked on Rose’s door and waited impatiently for the old woman to answer. This time she wasn’t going to barge in and get reprimanded for her actions. Nope, she’d be ready for the witch and her sharp tongue.

  But she needed answers and she wasn’t leaving until Rose told her where Dad had gone. And she had no doubt Rose knew more than she was letting on, after all, the woman had lived here for years. The sooner she could find out, the sooner she could leave. Although where she’d go, she wasn’t quite sure.

  Anywhere was better than here. She was of the firm belief that the entire town, perhaps the entire country of England, was insane. She was getting answers, finding out what happened to her father, and getting the hell out of Dodge.

  Of course the one time she was ready for the old woman, no one responded.

  Ashley slammed her fist against the door one last time. “Damn it.” With a sigh, she turned and started toward the gate. If Rose couldn’t answer her questions, she’d talk to the ghosts…again.

  “Oy,” someone called out.

  Ashley spun around. A young woman with short pink hair and green eyes that popped against her dark skin watched her from the corner of the house. For one crazed moment Ashley thought she might be an elf or fairy, something conjured from her overactive imagination.

  The woman stuck her hands into the pockets of her cargo shorts and tilted her head to the side in a thoughtful manner, her diamond stud nose ring catching the sunlight. “Can I help you?”

  She was English and younger than Ashley, but that was about all she could surmise. “I was looking for Mad Ro…” Realizing her faux pas almost too late, heat shot to Ashley’s face. “I mean I was looking for Rose.”

  Gracefully, the woman moved onto the front stoop like a model on a catwalk. “She’s not here. Went to the city to visit friends.”

  Rose had friends? For some reason Ashley couldn’t imagine anyone putting up with her snappy retorts. “Oh. I see. Well I’ll just come back then.”

  With a nod of farewell, she started down the dirt path toward home. Just freaking wonderful. How long would the woman be gone? And why did she have the feeling people, and ghosts, were trying to avoid her?

  “Maybe I can help.”

  Ashley paused and glanced back. The woman had moved closer, a shy smile upon her lips. “My name’s Camile.”

  Camile took her lower lip between white teeth, the eagerness shimmering in her gaze was almost endearing. She was either super nice, or super bored. Yeah, sure she could help, if she could read the past and talk to ghosts. “Thanks, but I don’t think you can.”

  Camile glanced around the front garden, then stepped closer to her as if about to tell Ashley some dark secret she didn’t want overheard. “Is it about…you know…”

  Ashley glanced around too, wondering what the heck Camile was looking for. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the overgrown lawn and rolling green hills. “Uh, no, I don’t know.”

  Camile lifted her hands into the air, her palms facing up, an action that clearly stated she thought Ashley was being dense. “The other worldly, paranormal…”

  Ashley’s mouth dropped open in shock. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what to say. Was this Camile serious? Did everyone in this damn town know about ghosts and witches? What kind of alternate universe had she entered? Where she was from, people didn’t discuss these things. It wasn’t… normal.

  Camile frowned and stuffed her hands back into her pockets. “My aunt, she’s a witch, didn’t you know?”

  So Rose had family. Another shocker. Ashley had assumed the woman had sprouted from the earth. “Rose is your aunt?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, white people and black people can be related.”

  Heat crawled up Ashley’s neck. “I didn’t mean…It’s just that her accent is Scottish and yours is English—”

  Camile laughed. “And contrary to popular belief, English and Scottish people can be related.” She waved her hand through the air, dismissing Ashley’s comment. “No worries. I was just having some fun.”

  Ashley rubbed the back of her neck, really wishing she hadn’t come. She didn’t need more people hearing about her ghostly problems. She already had a good handful who probably thought she was insane. Although, at this point, she was starting to think the town was way crazier than she’d ever been.

  “Oh, well.” She looked eagerly toward the path. “I should go.”

  Camile edged closer, her dark brows drawn together. “That’s not why you came here? I mean for the paranormal stuff?”

  Ashley resisted the urge to groan and wondered what, exactly to say. Camile was so young. Okay, not that young. Probably a few years younger than her. But still, was she really qualified? Did witches have resumes and would she be offended if Ashley asked for references?

  Camile flushed and stepped back, obviously sensing her hesitation. “Sorry then, no worries. She’ll return in a couple days.”

  Camile started toward the door, but not before Ashley noticed the flash of disappointment that crossed her eyes. Who was she to judge what Camile was capable of? Besides, Camile was actually friendly and she hadn’t met many friendly and helpful people in this town.

  “Wait!”

  Camile paused and looked back, her gaze hopeful. “Yeah?”

  “It’s just…I…well…I can’t find someone.”

  Camile frowned, hopping off the stoop and starting toward her. “Someone’s missing? Have you gone to the police?”

  Ashley laughed, a harsh sound that came out more hysterical than amused. “It’s not that easy.”

  Camile rested her right hand on her hip, a blue bracelet encircling her slim wrist. “How so?”

  Ack, how was she supposed to explain? “You see,” Ashley plucked a leaf from the vine weaving its way through the fence. Apparently Camile was open to the otherworldly, but everyone had their limits. “I think…well…I might have had a ghost at my house, but now…he’s gone.”

  “Balls,” Camile whispered. “You mean there’s no more activity?”

  Ashley nodded and studied the young woman’s face, waiting for her mocking laughter, or for her to at least race back into the house and lock the doors. She did neither, which frankly worried Ashley. Wouldn’t a normal person being freaking out?

  “That is odd.”

  Camile wasn’t shocked. So Camile either was a witch as well, or was crazy. Ashley shook off her surprise and surged onward. “So, I was wondering…if…I could find this ghost.”

  She leaned her hip against the fence, her pose thoughtful. “See if he’s still in the house?”

  Ashley nodded.

  She took her lip between her teeth, and Ashley could practically see her mind spinning with possibilities. “Do you have anything of his? A shirt? A comb? Anything?”

  Ashley’s excitement faded. “No, he died quite awhile ago.”

  Camile sighed. “I’m not going to lie, it could be difficult.”

  Ashley’s heart sank. Fanfreakingtas
tic, how was she going to find Bill? The other ghosts were so upset by his disappearance, they’d gone back into hiding. Would she ever get the answers she needed?

  “Difficult, but not impossible,” Camile said. “Come on.”

  She was already in the house by the time Ashley’s shock wore off. She didn’t dare hesitate, but raced up the path, afraid the witch would change her mind. The cottage had gone downhill since Rose had left. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Clothes were scattered about the couch. It looked like her college dorm room from freshman year.

  “You in college?” she asked.

  Camile nodded and tossed the clothes from the chairs that circled the kitchen table. “Herbalistic medicine.”

  Ashley had no idea what that was, but it sounded impressive. “Oh, wow.”

  She shrugged. “I’m in college to get my parents off my arse. But what I really like is doing spells, like my aunt.”

  So, someone actually wanted to grow up to be like Rose? The surprises kept coming.

  “Tell me about this ghost.” Camile settled at the table and patted the chair next to hers.

  Ashley took the seat, feeling ridiculous. People just didn’t have conversations about ghosts. At least, not where she was from. “Well, his name’s Bill. He’s…maybe…from the 1800s? I’m not sure.” Her face heated; she was embarrassed by her lack of knowledge, but more embarrassed to be talking about a ghost as if he was a real, everyday person.

  Camile picked up a t-shirt from the table, and tossed it aside. Underneath was a small, wooden box. “Hmm, and what does he look like?” She lifted the lid of the box and pulled out a stack of cards.

  Ashley shrugged. “Forties, maybe fifties. Short beard, round stomach.” She sighed, realizing she’d just described twenty-five percent of the world’s population.

  Camile held up her hand and Ashley stopped, wondering if she’d said too much. With eyes closed, the witch took in a deep breath, then released it. “Does he smoke pipes?”

  Ashley’s heart jumped into her throat. How had she known? Was this some sick joke? Or was it possible she was seeing Bill? She glanced around the room looking for signs of the ghost. “Yeah, maybe. Is he here?”

  “No, just something that came to me.” Camile shuffled through the cards then laid them face down on the tabletop. “Do you know anything else about him?”

  Ashley shook her head. “Not really.”

  She nodded and took in another deep breath, then released it. Quickly, she placed the cards in a cross-like pattern on the tabletop. One by one, she flipped the cards over, leaving only the last face down.

  Tarot cards, Ashley realized with a start. Crap, was she reading her future?

  Ashley scooted back from the table, suddenly uneasy. She’d always been afraid of what divination would reveal. She liked to keep her secrets close. “I think, maybe—”

  “Shhh,” Camile snapped.

  Ashley swallowed hard and focused reluctantly on the cards. She was far from knowledgeable about the symbols, but she knew enough to know that some didn’t look good. A skeleton. A man hanging upside down. Some guy with a bunch of swords through his body. Yeah, not good. But in the middle of those scary cards was one that immediately drew her attention. One that tempted her to scoot closer to the table—A male and female embracing.

  Ashley was mesmerized by the loveliness of that picture and had to resist the urge to reach out and touch the card to make sure it was real.

  “Change is coming,” Camile said, drawing Ashley’s attention back to her. She tapped her finger on a card with a Skeleton. “Big change.”

  Ashley was close enough to read the card. “Death?” she squeaked. Yeah, she’d say death was a big change.

  Camile smiled. “Nah, doesn’t mean death, just change.”

  Relieved, but still feeling a little ill, Ashley sank back into her chair. At least something was going her way. But what could change mean? Good change? Bad change?

  Camile stiffened and leaned closer to the table. “Now this…this is interesting.” With her brows knit together, she moved her hands over the cards like she was trying to sense something. Finally, she looked up at her, surprise evident in her green eyes. “You’re one of us?”

  Ashley frowned, confused. “I don’t…”

  She reached out, grabbing her hands before she could move away. Her gaze shot to Ashley, her hold tightening. In her eyes was awe and something more…excitement. “Bloody hell, I’ve been waiting to meet someone else like me. Well, other than my aunt.”

  Ashley pulled back, unease whispering across her neck. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  Camile frowned, twisting the blue beaded bracelet around her wrist. “You…you’re psychic?”

  Ashley shook her head a little too frantically.

  “Well, you’re something, right? I mean different.”

  Her gut twisted and heat crawled slowly up her neck and into her face. Different. It was what her mother had always called her and it hadn’t been a compliment.

  “No, I’m not.” Ashley forced a laugh past her lips. “I wish.”

  They were silent for one long moment, a silence of wills. Camile waiting for Ashley to admit her ability, Ashley waiting for Camile to give up.

  Finally, Camile shrugged. “Well, anyway.” With a sigh of apparent disappointment, she narrowed her eyes on the cards again. “This here…I think this is your ghost.” She pointed to a card and frowned. Finally, she flipped over that last card.

  A red devil leered back at Ashley. She sucked in a sharp breath, but Camile didn’t react to the evil-looking symbol. Maybe, like the Death card, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

  Camile closed her eyes and laid her hands on the cards. “I think…I think your ghost has gone on.”

  Ashley jerked her gaze away from that Devil card. “Gone on? To like…another house?”

  Camile chuckled, the hazy film of meditation gone from her eyes. She shuffled the cards together, making a small, neat pile, the only thing neat about the cottage. And just like that, she was done. “No, like to the other side. Toward the light.”

  Ashley surged to her feet, so surprised she could barely contain herself. “What?”

  Camile shrugged, unconcerned. Obviously not realizing the importance of her words “To Heaven, or whatever it is afterward.”

  Of course she was unconcerned because she apparently didn’t know the truth. “That can’t be right. They don’t want to go to Heaven, he was quite adamant that he didn’t want to go to the other side.”

  Suspicion sparked to life in her green eyes and Ashley immediately realized her mistake. “He told you this?”

  How she wished the floor would open and swallow her whole. “Well…I…” Frantic, she tried to come up with an excuse, but found herself floundering, sinking fast.

  Camile leaned closer, her face alight with possibility. “Can you talk to ghosts?”

  Ashley stepped back, feeling the sudden urge to flee. “I…” God, there was no way to escape without making things worse. Besides, she was tired of hiding. “Maybe.”

  Camile’s mouth dropped open. “Balls! So you are like us!”

  Horrified, Ashley took another step back. “What? No! Not at all.” How could Camile even think that? No way she was anything like these freaks.

  Camile started toward her, her steps quick and sure. “You can talk to ghosts, see them…I’d say you’re different all right.”

  She said it so casually, as if it was something to be proud of. For one moment, Ashley almost believed her. “How do you know I’m not just insane?”

  Camile shrugged, her gaze serious. “How do you know I’m not?”

  Ashley didn’t respond. How could she? Maybe Camile was insane. Hell, maybe they all were. Camile lifted the lid of her box and stuffed the cards inside.

  “Well, whether you want to believe it or not, your ghost has gone onto the other side.” She leaned her hip against the table and crossed her arms over her ch
est. “And whether you want to believe it or not, you are like me.”

  Chapter 14

  The house was silent, always too silent. But Cristian knew what lurked underneath that silence. He’d seen what could happen; life had taught him to never underestimate and his nightmare had been a reminder of the evil that lurked in this home. An evil he needed to destroy.

  Or had it been Ashley’s nightmare? He paused in the middle of what had once been a stately parlor as the woman came so easily to mind. The feel of her soft skin. The scent of her…warm vanilla. The taste of her…

  His body grew hard, lust surging to his groin. How he’d wanted to take her last night, make her his own. Claim her, and kill anyone would dare to touch her. It was unnatural, animalistic, almost, and it was a sin for him to even think of having her. Yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  He swung his sword wide, the blade flashing in the sunlight coming through the open windows. He attempted to concentrate on his movements but his mind and body remained focused on her. He felt her crawling inside of him, a virus that had invaded his blood.

  The more time he spent with her, the more his senses seemed to awaken when she was near so that without her, he felt a pale, numb reflection of himself. He knew when she was sleeping, knew when she was awake…Hell, he was jolly fucking Santa Claus.

  Even now he felt her coming closer, knew she was near even before he saw her stroll across the front garden. He felt her move into the house, felt her pause in the foyer. It wasn’t right, damn it all. He’d always worked alone. She was supposed to help, not hinder.

  She waited there on the other side of the door and whether she knew it or not, she sensed him as well. Why else would she pause directly outside this room when he hadn’t made a sound? She was drawn to him as he was to her. Would they be forever connected? Or if she left, would things return to normal? She turned the handle and the door squeaked open. He forced himself to turn his back to her, to continue to swipe that sword in long, practiced strokes.

  He didn’t need to face her to know she was watching him move, watching his muscles flex and bulge. Like last night, he wore only shorts and the sunlight would highlight his tattoos until they practically burst from his back. Cristian closed his eyes as he resisted the urge to turn, to step closer to her like a druggie looking for a fix. His drug of choice? Woman. Very hot Ashley.