“Where is it?” he demanded, shifting his sword from hand to hand.
She held her arms wide, looking completely confused. “What?”
“The poltergeist. Where is it?” Hell, he could feel it, so close.
“Cristian, there isn’t….” Her voice trailed off as her gaze went to her bedroom windows. Her skin paled, her pupils dilated with surprise. There, in front of the windows, just barely visible, was the slightest wavering of the air. He couldn’t see the spirit, but he could imagine how it looked…long, stringy hair, white face, red eyes, ugly little bastards.
“Oh my God.” She stumbled back, hitting the wall.
“Where exactly!” he demanded.
“The…the windows!”
With a war cry, Cristian swiped his sword through the air. As the blade connected with the beast, the poltergeist became visible. Disgusting, but he’d seen worse. Still, the noxious odor could have made a lesser man puke his guts upon the floor. The demon exploded in a burst that sent Ashley stumbling back into the wall. She slid down the plaster, landing with a thud on her arse. Even though instinct told him she was fine, his heart still missed a beat.
“Are ye well?” he demanded, a little more loudly than he’d intended. Shite, his heart was racing, his worry palpable.
She blinked rapidly. “Yeah.” She was dazed, but still with him. Gripping the fireplace mantel, she managed to regain her feet. “Is it dead? Gone?”
The urge to go to her overwhelmed him, but he refused to lose focus. He had a job to do; he would not let his human feelings get in the way. Sword still held firmly in hand, he slowly scanned the room, looking for that telltale shimmer in the air. The poltergeist might be gone, but this was far from over.
Ashley jerked the hem of her t-shirt down, straightening the garment with flustered movements. “Okay, then how about you tell me what the hell that sword is…how…how the hell it can kill ghosts.”
But he didn’t answer, he didn’t have time to chat. Cristian paced the room, looking, watching, waiting, for he knew it would appear soon. A sudden chill crawled over his skin like the black spider making its way across the floorboards.
“Wait a minute,” Ashley whispered. “You…you’re still waiting for something else to happen, aren’t you?”
He shifted his sword from his right to his left hand, focusing on the air in the room. Had the temperature dropped? “Coome on ye bloody bastards. I know yer har.”
His accent had grown thicker, as it usually did with the excitement of a kill. Bloody hell, he could feel the very air shimmering. More than one was coming. How many could he handle at once? He spun around to face Ashley. “Where is it? I feel anoother.”
Looking rather annoyed, she started to shrug, then froze. He could see the shift wash over her, those otherworldly powers coming into play. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t need to. Slowly, she turned her head. There, just barely visible next to her, a slight shift in the atmosphere. Hell, they were coming through faster than he could kill them.
With a war cry, Cristian sprang forward and swiped his sword over Ashley’s head. She screeched and dropped to her knees. A gust of air burst through the room, rustling the curtains and bedspread.
“Christ!” She stumbled back and fell to the ground. “You could have killed me!”
He barely bothered to glance at her. “If I wanted ye dead, ye would be by now.”
She narrowed her eyes, and glared up at him. “Okay, so now is it done?”
He glanced at her in disbelief. Was she joking, or was she really that ignorant? “Doone? We still havenae closed the portal.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Well, what was all this?”
Cristian rubbed his hand over his weary face. She hadn’t a bloody clue. “That was merely a few rogue poltergeists.”
She stared up at him with those wide, guileless eyes that made him feel guilty as hell. Fate be damned, he didn’t want to drag her into this mess. But he knew it wasn’t up to him. He could only make it right; even the playing field. He settled on the floor, his sword beside him.
“Come closer,” he demanded.
Apparently, she was too stunned to disobey and she quickly came to his side. “Sit.”
“What?”
“Now!”
Swallowing hard, she settled across from him. He was determined to ignore her. Determined to ignore the overwhelming urge to protect her from what would come. Determined to ignore the very heat he felt by merely sitting close to her. Cristian closed his eyes. “In the name of Christ, I ask ye tae be gone.”
The house trembled, the window panes rattling. “What was that?” Ashley whispered.
Cristian opened his eyes, focusing on a distant point behind her. “The lord is my shepherd…”
From the corner of his eye he noticed the chair near the fireplace tip forward, then fall back with a thud that shook the room. He didn’t even flinch. He knew there’d be more.
“Umm, Cristian, I think the chair’s moving.”
But he didn’t stop his religious chant, didn’t bother to look at her. He needed to concentrate. In most circumstances, closing a portal should have been easy, but he wasn’t merely closing a portal. She didn’t know his true intentions and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her. Females tended to overreact when blood was involved.
The chair flipped forward, this time landing on its side with a crash that sent the arms splintering like toothpicks across the room. Ashley sucked in her yelp. Above, the tinkle of crystal rang out. She tilted her head back. The chandelier shook, rattling.
“Uh, Cristian,” she said softly. “We should really, really move.”
“Give me yer hand.”
She held out her hand, still watching the light waver above. Completely unconcerned with his motives, which was good as he had a feeling she’d object. He lifted the sword, then hesitated for the slightest moment. What was that cringe of guilt he felt? Shite. He pushed the nauseating feeling aside. He was doing this for her own damn good. Lowering the sword, he slid the blade across her pale palm. He felt her pain sharp and intense as if he’d been cut himself.
“Aww!” she cried out and tried to jerk her hand back, but Cristian held it captive. She looked more than shocked, she looked betrayed.
“I command ye tae leave in the name of God.” He grasped her wounded hand to his, the contact stinging his cut. Their blood mixed, then dripped into the stone bowl. He knew the portal was closing, he was vaguely aware of the shift in energy. But he wasn’t concerned with the portal. No, he was too mesmerized by the feel of her blood, her life’s energy, surging into his body, flowing through his veins.
“Haven’t you ever heard of diseases?” she hissed, jerking on her hand once more.
He wouldn’t release his hold until he was sure she had his blood in her as well. The mixture in the bowl hissed and bubbled, resisting the power. When he felt her completely in his body as if her soul and his had merged, when she’d grown quiet, staring oddly at their hands and he knew she felt him inside her, only then did he release her hand. The spell broken, she jerked back, cradling her palm against her chest and stared at him with a look of equal parts horror and confusion on her face.
He tore his attention from her and stared at the ceiling. “In the name of God, I command ye tae leave. I command the portal tae close.”
The room trembled and the lights flickered. The mattress shook like it was a bed from a seedy motel and someone had put a quarter in it. What was done, was done. He would feel no guilt. Ashley had refused to leave this town and so he’d done what he had to do to help her survive.
Cristian jumped to his feet, unfolding his tall body and holding his arms wide like Moses parting the Red Sea. “I command ye in the name of God tae leave an’ never return.”
Wind rushed through the room, pulling at their clothes and hair. Still holding her hand to her chest, Ashley stumbled to her feet. He felt her terror surge through his body, but he couldn’t comfort her. He couldn’
t explain. At least not until it was completely over.
“In the name of God, I command ye tae leave.”
The wind howled and pushed her into him. Yes, he should have pushed her back. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his body her only anchor in this insane ocean. He wasn’t sure how long the wind tore at them, but just as suddenly as it had arrived, it was gone and the room fell silent. The only sound was the thump of her heart against his chest. She was the first to move.
Slowly, she pushed away and tilted her head back, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. “Please tell me it’s done.”
His body remained rigid even when he told himself that she merely held onto him because she was scared. Hell, he hated himself for wanting her. “It’s done. It’s closed.” He stepped back, away from her, trying to keep his distance, which was proving harder each day. His gaze was cold and direct. “And the next time ye get a ridiculous idea tae do magic, remember what happened here.”
He was taking his anger out on her. He knew that, didn’t care. Self-preservation urged him to leave. He leaned down and snatched up his sword. Without another word he started toward the door.
“Wait!” she called out.
He paused, bloody hell if he didn’t, and glanced back. In those hazel eyes he could see the fear fighting with anger. Her anger won out. “You could have warned me you were going to cut off my hand.”
“If I would have warned ye, ye wouldn’t have let me. Besides, I was a bit preoccupied at the time trying to clean up yer mess. So ye’ll have tae forgive my lack of manners.” He turned, disappearing into the hall.
“Well…what about disease?” she demanded, coming after him. “You could have given me something!”
He laughed. “I don’t get diseases and I’m immune to anything you might have.”
She paused and he made the mistake of looking back. “Well…I don’t…have anything, that is.”
He pushed open his bedroom door. His cut was throbbing. Her hot blood pulsing through his veins was foreign and his body wasn’t sure what to do with her sudden invasion. Hell, now he’d never be rid of her.
“So it’s okay now?” she asked, pausing outside his door. “The poltergeist won’t return?”
He sighed loud and long. Inside his room, he glanced back. “As long as ye don’t do anything stupid, they won’t come back. Get yer rest. Yer going tae need it.” He closed the door in her face. He moved toward the center of his room and pulled off his t-shirt, smeared with the blood from his cut…her cut…he wasn’t sure whose. Damn he was tired. Exhausted with the emotions, exhausted with this world.
The door was thrown wide. “Umm, excuse me. I don’t think we’re done…” Slowly, she took in his naked torso.
He tossed his t-shirt to the bed. “What?” He turned to face her.
She looked away, her cheeks flushing. “You…you just said I’m going to need to rest. What the hell does that mean?”
He started toward her. If ignoring her wouldn’t work, he’d scare her with the truth. “Ye feel it. Ye know it’s here.”
“What?” Her voice came out breathless and she was still avoiding his gaze.
He lifted his arm, stabbing his finger toward the hall. “In the basement, behind that door. When it’s released, all hell’s going to break loose.”
Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. She was doing her damnedest to appear calm, but he could see the fear lurking in her hazel eyes. “Why’s it going to be released? What do you know, Cristian?”
He smiled, a slow, wicked smile. “It’s coming soon. I know that much. And when it’s released, I’ll be ready, will ye?”
She ignored his question. She was trembling, her face pale. “What is it?”
He stepped back, still smiling. “A demon.”
“A…demon?” She flattened her palm to her chest as if trying to keep her heart inside.
His gaze swept over her. “That’s right, my sweet. A real, bloody demon who would kill ye just as soon as look at ye.”
She was silent for one long moment. “You’re telling me that in the basement of my pub, there’s a…a demon?”
Finally, the truth was coming out and damn it all, if he wasn’t relieved. “Aye. An’ he’s going tae play soon, so ye’d best be prepared.”
“What the hell happened to you?” Devon roared from the doorway.
Ashley spun around to face the man. Devon was looking toward her chest where she held her bloodied hand, her white t-shirt soaked red.
“Nothing…I…”
“I did it,” Cristian said, moving closer to her. He’d take the former ghost’s ire. He’d welcome the fight. “Got a problem with that?”
“He had to.” She stepped in front of Devon just as he started forward. “He helped me close the portal.”
Devon’s jaw clenched and unclenched and for a moment Cristian thought he’d spring. Devon wasn’t sure whether to believe Ashley and Cristian or not. But in the end, he knew Cristian wasn’t a liar. A murderer, perhaps, but not a liar.
“Go on then.” Cristian gave them a little wink. “Have fun ye two. And like I said, rest while ye can, yer going tae need yer energy.” He closed the door in their faces.
Chapter 22
“What the bloody hell did he mean? What were you doing?” Devon demanded, his footsteps quick as he raced to catch up with her.
Ashley rolled her eyes heavenward and continued her speed walk to Rose’s cottage. She just wanted to get there and ask the old woman about the damn demon who supposedly lived in her basement. She didn’t feel like reliving the evening’s events and that’s just what Devon wanted; details. She’d come here to uncover her father’s whereabouts, not battle with ghosts and demons.
“Damn it, Ashley.” His finger’s bit into her upper arm and he spun her around. Even in his weakened state, his grip was strong, bruising almost.
“Aww,” she cried out, jerking away. “What’s your problem?” She rubbed the injured limb and glared up at him.
His face twisted, anger fighting with control. For the briefest of moment’s he closed his eyes. Finally, he looked at her, his blue gaze calm, once again the Devon she knew. “I’m sorry. I…tis everything.”
She sighed, her anger dissipating. Of course he had a right to know what was going on. The man had been forced back to life, forced back into a world he barely knew. She understood what it was like to be in the dark. “It’s all right. We, Cristian and I, closed the portal.”
His eyes flashed, that anger back as quickly as it had fled. “And you didn’t want me there to help?”
She resisted the urge to snap back at him. Of course they didn’t want him there. He was weak, although she wouldn’t dare say it that way. “I was worried it’d be too much for you.”
His masculinity called into question, his ire flared. It was there, obvious in the glare of his eyes, the clenching of his fingers. She’d never seen him so upset before and she couldn’t stop herself from stepping back.
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can.” She rested her hand on his arm, attempting to calm his irrational emotions. Fighting with the man wouldn’t help. She needed all the allies she could get. But she couldn’t help but notice how stiff his muscles were under her touch and it made her more than nervous. “Come on. It’s closed. We have other things to worry about now.”
He swallowed hard, his throat working. “You should get the injury stitched.” He reached out, taking her hand and she let him, not wanting to anger him further. She’d tied a clean tank top around the wound, the most she could do while running out the door.
“Does it still hurt?” Just like that, the Devon she’d come to know was back, concern flashing in his baby blue eyes.
She shook her head. Truth was, her hand had gone sort of numb. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “It should be fine. But if it starts turning black, I promise to head to the hospital.”
He smiled and she couldn’t help but smile back, w
hich was slightly ridiculous. How the hell could she smile now, after what had happened with Cristian? After what she’d learned? After…everything. Disconcerted, she pulled her hand away.
He was so incredibly different than Cristian. An inch or two taller, but his build was slighter. That didn’t mean he didn’t have power. No, he’d shown how powerful and agile he was when he’d fought Cristian. Even half-dead…or half-alive, she wasn’t sure which, he’d held his own until the end. He’d practically saved her life and he’d won her respect that day.
“What happened?” His eyes were intense, too intense and she couldn’t lie under the scrutiny of his gaze.
So instead she turned and moved down the path, following Rose’s picket fence. Devon opened the gate for her, but she knew he was still waiting for her answer. He wouldn’t relent until he had the truth. Fact was she wasn’t sure what to say. If she told him Cristian had cut her without her permission, he’d be back to his avenging angel-self.
Fortunately before she had time to respond the front door creaked open. “Are you all right? Did it close?” Camile rushed from the cottage as if she was a child eagerly awaiting her parent’s return. “Rose wouldn’t let me check afterward, said we needed to come back here…” Her voice trailed off as her attention focused on Ashley’s hand. “What the hell happened to you?”
Ashley gave her a half smile. “They didn’t mention you needed blood to close the portal.”
The woman cringed. For a witch who was supposed to do spells with things like eye of newt, she was rather squeamish.
Looking uncomfortable, Camile stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “So, did it close?”
Ashley nodded. “Yeah. We closed it.” As if that mattered when there was something so much worse festering under her house.
“Told ye,” Rose said, waddling onto the stoop. “Told her ah felt it close, but she didnae believe me.”
Camile rolled her eyes, but refrained from snapping back at her Aunt. “So that’s it then? All’s well that ends well?”
Ashley didn’t know quite how to respond to that question. Rose turned and moved back into the house; an odd reaction, to say the least. There was something in her silence that bothered Ashley.
The Ghost Hunter, a Paranormal Romance (The Hunter Series) Page 18
