by Angie Sandro
“Dena, please.”
“Told you…Now it’s too late to save yourself,” she whispers, close enough that I feel her warm breath in my ear.
I spin, arms waving. The tip of a finger brushes across her icy skin, and I lunge toward her, but she’s already gone. “Stop running from me.”
“He’s coming.”
“Who?” I hold my breath, straining to hear.
Only Dena’s voice pierces the darkness as she laughs, and the madness in her tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “Thinks he’s so sneaky.” She singsongs the words, as if using this conversation with me to taunt this unknown person. “He can’t catch you if you don’t stay still, can you, Redford? You try and try, but you can’t catch me.”
A wave of hatred flares like a fire lighting up a moonless night.
Redford Delahoussaye’s voice comes from right behind me. “I’ll kill you.”
I drop to my knees with a shriek and I crawl away as fast as I can. I think I move at an angle, but the dark disorients me. The echoing nature of this place makes it difficult to determine where sound comes from. It plays with my senses, deceiving with every turn.
Oh God, Red’s trapped in here.
With Dena. Me. That murdering psychopath’s continuing to terrorize my cousin. Bad enough he kidnapped and beat her within an inch of her life, then shot her. Now they’re trapped together in this limbo…and it’s all my fault. Their fates are linked. When I tied Dena’s soul to her body, it also left Red in a vegetative state. My fear doomed my cousin to an eternity of bondage to the person who tormented her.
Revulsion floods through me. I can’t breathe it’s so thick. I return to my body and sit up, gasping for air. Spots dance in front of my eyes. I blink, and the spot condenses into a giant, blurry blob. A second blink and the blob forms into a scowling face. Landry flips his chin-length black hair out of his face, and my chest tightens with the surge of love flowing through me. His bristled jaw flexes, and I throw my arms around his neck. “I’m so happy to see you.”
Our bodies cling together so tightly that it’s almost as if we’re one. I let his scent fill my nose and soak into my skin. He doesn’t speak for several minutes, just rubs my tense shoulders until my breathing slows and the tears dry up and then he leans back. “Are you with me now?” He cups my cheeks between his palms. His stormy gray eye stares deep into mine as if trying to read my thoughts. I jerk my head aside, and his hands drop. Some thoughts are best left private.
A spasm rips through my lower back from being propped against the side of the hospital bed. With a grimace, I set my hands on the cold floor and try to push upright, but my body doesn’t cooperate. Maybe I’m still in shock. “Help me, please.”
Landry stretches my legs into a more comfortable position before speaking again. “What happened? One minute we’re talking. The next you’re falling. Then your eyes roll up in your skull. Freaked me the fuck out.”
I rub my sticky tongue along the roof of my mouth. “I need some water.”
His nostrils flare, but he slaps his hands down on his thighs and pushes to his feet. He reaches out, and I let him lift me to my feet. Dizziness almost topples me back over, but he wraps his arm around my shoulders. Maybe he does read my mind because he senses I can’t be in this room another second. He helps me walk to the water fountain by the elevator, and I drink until my stomach hurts.
I clutch the fountain with one hand and press the other against the wall, letting my head rest in the crease of my elbow. I’ve never fallen asleep while standing up, but…My eyes drift shut. Not even the stomach-dropping sensation of falling pries open my eyelids because I’m caught and lifted before my mind processes the reason for my vertigo. I lay my head on Landry’s shoulder and shut off my brain. Or try to.
It doesn’t really work.
My thoughts race, fighting my control. I focus on rebuilding the shield, but each brick I shove in place crumbles. I can’t conjure the finesse needed to lay them in orderly rows. The spirits haunting the hospital sense my presence. They swarm like a plague of locusts, set on leeching away my remaining energy. Cold fingers tug at my hair to get my attention. Voices whisper in my ears, pleading for help. Gruesome images of death and carnage pass behind my eyes, and I dissolve into a quivering mess.
“Mala Jean,” the voice breaks through the shouting mass. I crack open an eye. Bessie blocks Landry’s exit from the elevator. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing that getting out of this place won’t cure,” Landry says impatiently. “Follow me if you want to talk.” He sidesteps to get off the elevator before the doors slide shut, but when he tries to go around her, she blocks him again.
She rests the back of her hand against my forehead, and I shiver from the coldness of her touch. “She’s burning up.”
I lift a trembling hand and wave my fingertips in her direction. “I’m okay, Bessie.”
Her dark eyebrows draw in to an intricate knot on her mahogany forehead. “Girl, I’ve felt enough fevered heads in my lifetime to know you’ve come down with a cold. Probably from stomping about in the rain with George this morning.”
“Be better if it were a cold,” Landry mutters, hugging me tighter. “Stupid—”
“Did you call me stupid?” Bessie lurches forward.
Landry steps back to keep her from chest-bumping us. “No! I called—”
“Do you think calling Mala stupid is supposed to make me feel better?” Bessie’s got the scary don’t-bullshit-me glint in her eyes and tone. Saints, she’s royally pissed, and this has nothing to do with whether or not I’ve got a cold. Oh no, this anger comes from deep within, a brimming pot seconds away from boiling.
“Enough!” I snap the word like a sopping wet rolled-up towel, hoping the sting sets them back a notch. It works better than I imagined.
Bessie’s eyes widen. “Malaise Jean Marie—”
“Don’t throw all three names at me, Elizabeth Faye Caine,” I cut in before she works herself into full-froth. “I’m not a child, and I don’t deserve to be scolded like one.”
Bessie sucks in a startled breath, and a spurt of satisfaction flows through me. I’ve always shown her the utmost respect, and I’m quaking in my rain boots at talking back to her. Still, I’ve neither the energy nor the patience to deal with her diplomatically. “Put me down, Landry. Bessie and I need to talk in private.”
Landry sets me on my feet, and I pretend like I don’t see the slight quirk to the corner of his lips. He’s laughing at me. I know he is. Bet he thinks I can’t handle Bessie. That she’s going to recover from her shock, eat me alive, then spit out the indigestible chunks. Maybe he’s right. But it’s time to try. I can’t let her treat me like a child forever. Not if I want her to see me as an adult capable of consulting on the murder investigation.
“I’ll meet you at the truck,” he says, walking off. Right before he gets to the door, he throws a last I-double-dare-you grimace over his shoulder. Ha, I’ll show him.
I blot the dots of perspiration off my forehead with the back of my hand. Bessie’s right about the fever, just not the source. Stupid spirits. They manifest by drawing on energy from their surroundings, including the living, but they’re especially attracted to people who are aware of their presence. Like me. Too much exposure to spirits wears the body down bit by bit. This is why the shield’s so important. I learned that much when Lainey haunted me. I didn’t realize she was the cause of my runny nose and aching muscles, not the flu.
“I need to sit down,” I mumble and stagger over to a bench beneath the WASHED HANDS SAVE LIVES sign. My stomach rolls at the picture of an open sore labeled methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. I take a few deep breaths to fight down the nausea.
Bessie gives me the dirty eyeball. “Tell me again why you’re not sick when it’s obvious you’re suffering?”
The habitual lie sticks to the end of my tongue, and I swallow it. Now that Bessie knows the truth about my abilities,
I don’t have to hide what’s really wrong. “Hospitals tend to affect me like this. All the voices in my head sap my strength.” My lips purse…Hmm, that sounds like I’m having a psychotic break. “These halls are full of the dead. Too many ghosts in one place can be draining. Once I get out of here, I’ll be fine.”
“About that…”
“Don’t you dare say you don’t believe me!”
“What do you expect? I’ve known you since you were a little girl. Are you saying you’ve kept this secret all this time? That you didn’t trust me with the truth?”
Now the real reason for her anger comes out. “I’m sorry, Bessie.”
“Sorry?” Her eyes close for a minute, then pop open. “So if George hadn’t spilled the truth, you never would’ve said anything. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“How do you think I feel?” I snap, then realize how my loss of control must appear to her. Mother Mary, help me stay calm. Be rational. I force my words out in an even tone. “Do you think it’s been easy? Letting everyone think I’m insane because sharing this secret would only make it worse? At least PTSD from seeing Mama murdered seemed like a probable explanation for my supposed breakdown. But saying I see ghosts, well, that’s an ongoing psychosis, isn’t it? You believed Dr. Rhys’ diagnosis easily enough. Even tried to force me to go to therapy and stay on those horse pills.”
“I was trying to help. Jasmine—”
“Yeah, Mama. Let’s talk about how well seeing spirits worked for her.”
“Mala, you’re not your mother.”
“But I could be, Bessie. This is how it started for her. In a few years, I could be a drunk too. That’s what seeing ghosts does. It messes with the mind. Turns a sane person insane. Makes a mother abandon her child.” Where are all these words coming from? “That’s what’s in my future. Why I was scared to tell you.”
“Oh, cher,” she whispers, opening her arms.
I step into her embrace. “Mo chagren…” My tightening throat chokes off my apology. My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I struggle to hold them back. When I think I’ve got my emotions under control, I step aside but remain close enough to study her expression. “I need you to believe me. It’s the only way you can help me stay sane. Mama tried to hide from her gift by denying it. She didn’t get help to learn how to control it. That’s why she drank.” I swallow around the bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m lucky. I’ve got Landry, but he’s in the same situation.”
“As in he sees ghosts too?” Her eyes do a quick roll before she catches herself. “Sorry, it’s just…”
“When he died in jail, he came back able to see spirits.”
“Okay, that’s asking a bit much for me to take in.”
I can’t help but laugh. She’s got a point. Bringing a demon possession into the mix will only make the situation worse. “Fine, let’s leave full disclosure for a later time. So how did you find me to have this conversation, anyway?”
“I didn’t actually come for this reason. I came to interview the victim of an assault by”—she pulls out a notepad and reads verbatim—“‘a big-ass black guy’ who held his victim at gunpoint while Carl Acker beat him up.” She gives me a sideways glance. “Bet you can guess where this all went down?”
“That son of a bitch!”
“The victim was here getting treatment for a broken nose. Says he wants to press charges.”
“Did the so-called victim also tell you that he’s the boyfriend of Pepper Acker, Carl’s mother, or that he attacked Carl first? If anyone’s gonna press charges, it should be Carl. The victim’s a grown man, putting hands on a kid.”
“Hey, I understand. Sounds to me like the kid defended himself, but he signed a citizen’s arrest form. It’s out of my hands unless he drops the charges.”
“But that’s not fair. Was Pepper there when he made his report?”
Bessie shakes her head.
“Are you seriously gonna arrest Carl?”
“He’s already in custody. Deputy Winters picked him up when she saw him in the parking lot. That’s why I’m here getting the statement. We’re a bit shorthanded while we finish processing the crime scene you and George found. Once we get Carl’s statement, you can pick him up from the station.”
I head for the exit doors at a fast pace, and Bessie matches my stride. My heart races as I imagine Carl’s expression as he’s locked in handcuffs and hauled off in the patrol car. Poor kid. Sure, he can be a brat, but he’s never gotten arrested before. He must be terrified.
Sunlight stabs at my eyes, and I blink at the patch of blue in the cloud-filled sky. Judging by the position of the sun, it’s almost time for the boys to get out of school. Guess Carl and I won’t be making that appointment with his principal after all. No telling how long it’ll take before he’s released.
Landry has the truck pulled up by the curb. When he sees me, he honks. I hold up a single finger in answer, and he gives a jerky nod. “You’ll need Landry’s and Sophia’s statements.” I talk fast, not caring to waste time. “Pepper’s too. Hopefully she’ll be honest and back up her son. The ‘big-ass black guy’ must be Ferdinand. If he hasn’t left town, I’ll ask him to come in.”
“George was transporting your friend Ferdinand when Dixie dispatched the call. He brought him down to the substation, and Ferdinand provided a corroborating statement to what you just told me.” Her lips twitch. “I must say, Ferdinand Laffite is quite impressive.”
I’m not sure I like the awed, lust-struck husky tone to her voice. Far as I know, Bessie hasn’t been interested in a man since her husband died. He was killed on duty during a traffic stop. “Yeah, Ferdi’s been a big help to my family.”
She stops walking to stare over my head with slightly glazed brown eyes. “Did you know he served twenty years in the Marines before starting his own private security firm? His employees are hired to protect some pretty famous stars when they visit New Orleans.”
I glance over at Landry. He tilts his head in a come-on gesture, and I shake mine in return. “I didn’t know that.”
She blinks. “Really?”
“I always see him with my aunt Magnolia. I didn’t know he was the president of his own company.”
If the president’s guarding Magnolia, I guess that makes her pretty important. But more important than those rich billionaires? This information puts a whole new spin on his motivations for helping me. Is he licking her boots out of loyalty or is the Hoodoo Queen of N’awlins holding some sort of magical blackmail over his head to gain his compliance?
Bessie nods. “Well, he gave me a business card and showed me his permit to carry concealed. The background check came out clean. He single?”
“Good Lord, Bessie. As tough as you are, I don’t know if you can handle Sir Hotness.”
“Humph, better ask whether he thinks he’s up to the challenge of handling me.”
Chapter 12
Landry
Playing Possum
Mala gives Bessie a bone-crushing hug, then drags herself over to the truck like each step hurts. My chest constricts at seeing her obvious strain. When she reaches the truck, I lean over and pop the latch. She stands in the doorway, staring at me with dark eyes glittering with pain, and I force a grin. “Score one for my girl. Bessie didn’t eat you alive.”
A smile flickers then blooms. “Did you really doubt me?”
“I’m no fool. I’ve seen you back down to spare someone’s feelings, but I’ve never seen you lose in a fight. You’re too damn stubborn. And cute…” Come on, think of something to shake her out of her funk. “Too amazingly sexy to ever be able to stay mad at for long.”
She snorts at the cheesiness of my compliment. “I don’t think Bessie sees my hotness as a factor in whether or not she’ll forgive my lies.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Lies?
Rather than climbing into the truck, she folds her arms on the seat and rests her chin on top of them, totally creating a gap down the front of her T-shirt. Her
breasts strain upward from being pressed together—twin mounds, within easy reach. My mouth waters, imagining the taste of her smooth skin, and I run my tongue across my lips.
Her long eyelashes sweep down and then flicker upward. “George blabbed to Bessie and the sheriff about my ability to see ghosts when they asked how we found the crime scene. She’s still in the denial phase, but I’ll win her over.”
“Oh shit, seriously? He told?” Damn him. “Is he trying to get you killed or locked up in some government facility or—”
“Calm down. That won’t happen. I was pissed at first, but it’s for the best. I couldn’t hide how I found the crime scene if I wanted them to take my vision seriously. It’s the only way to catch the killer.”
“Why the hell not? Did he tell them about me too?” I tap my head, and she shakes hers so hard that flyaway curls tumble over her eyes. I fall back in the seat with a sigh, all my lusty thoughts dried up at the insta-panic I felt when I thought Bessie had learned about the demon.
“No worries, I handled the situation like a pro.” She brushes her hair back and straightens with a shrug. “I faced it head-on. I won’t run and hide from this anymore. It’s a part of me…us. It’s time to use our abilities to help others. Don’t you think?”
I rub my hand over my chest, afraid I need to pull my inhaler out of the glove box. I draw in a breath, then another, willing my heart to slow. Everything’s okay. Mala will be safe. They won’t try to burn her alive. Bessie and Chief Keyes, they’re good people. They’ll see the benefit of having Mala on their side. Just like George did. Course this line of bullshit doesn’t make me feel much better given how much trouble he’s gotten her into today.
The lopsided curl of Mala’s luscious lips captures my attention. That’s my girl, cocky and sexy as sin. I grin, stuffed with my own bit of pride now that the sadness has drained from her eyes, and I lose myself in the sparkle, like a jeweler mesmerized by an onyx gemstone surrounded by diamonds. I’ve got to remember this thought when buying her engagement ring. Course, I need cash. Which means I need to find a job, since I don’t need to worry about fixing up the Acker place anymore.
