Midnight Magic (A Ghost & Abby Mystery Book 1)

by Jo-Ann Carson

  His silvery-blue essence shimmered. “At least let me come with you.”

  “You’re done with your quest for mortality?”

  “About that,” he said.

  I scrunched up my face and tried to think of every nasty word I could blurt out.

  “I have news.”

  I blinked. “You don’t mean . . .”

  “No, no, I have not found a way to live again.”

  He all but said, “yet.” I bit my lip, not sure I wanted to hear more.

  “We have an opportunity to be together, alive.” He held up his hand so I wouldn’t interrupt him. “It will be in the past, and it will be for only a short time. It is a gift.”

  “Both of us will be alive?” My cheeks burned, emotions boiling to the surface, competing for my head.

  “Yes.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “I believe it is, though one can never be certain with magic.”

  My heart soared, but my mind reeled. This sounded too good to be true, and you know what they say about things that sound too good. It was like a triple-fudge sundae labeled no calories. I hugged myself as I digested the sheer largeness of what he was saying.

  “Guiden,” he continued, “a well-revered sorcerer, has taken an interest in our star-crossed-lovers situation. He offered us the magic to take us both back to the golden Viking age, when I was alive.”

  “In Sweden?”

  He nodded.

  “When?”

  “On the first night of the next full moon. We will have six hours together,”

  Okay, this was way too good to be true. Way, way too good. Six hours with a flesh and blood version of Eric! “What does he want?” I asked.

  His full mouth pulled down. “I may as well tell you. He wants me to become his private assassin. He is clear about that. In exchange for my allegiance, he would give me the magic to become immortal.”

  “Eric!” I hissed. It went against all the laws of the universe. Even I knew that.

  “I declined. I told him I would not kill people for him.”

  “So why the all-expenses-paid vacation to ancient Sweden?”

  “He offered us this getaway for free. He thinks it will change my mind about the assassin job. He was very transparent.”

  “Let me get this straight. Guiden thinks if we have six hours together, you will do anything to have more.”

  “Something like that. Ja.”

  “What if he gets angry when we come back happy to resume our regular forms?”

  Eric shrugged.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. Talk about a shady deal. “Okay, I think we need to slow this down. Can you trust Guiden?”

  “Sorcerers are immortal magical beings. They do not have the same moral compass as humans. They have their own agendas and reputations to uphold. There are good sorcerers and bad ones. Brunhilde and Azalea believe it is unwise to trust any of them.”

  “Does Guiden practice black magic? Is he one of them?”

  “You have to understand sorcerers do not see the world in black-and-white designations as we do. No sorcerer would practice only one or the other; he would practice what he needs to, to achieve his goal.”

  “Don’t avoid the question. On the whole, does Guiden lean towards the light or the dark?”

  Eric winced. “Dark.”

  “And that’s why he wants a Viking assassin.”

  Eric shrugged.

  “It feels wrong, Eric.”

  “He’s offered us a chance to be together. I’ll hold you in my arms and taste your perfect lips.” His shimmer turned bluer. “I’ll spend hours making sweet love to you.”

  The temperature in the room shot up the scale by a pornographic movie or two. Images of us being together, forever together, in the most intimate of ways, in the ways I dreamed of every night, took my breath away.

  “He says there are no strings attached. He gave me his word on that.”

  I grumbled. “Can we trust his word?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  A big grin spread across his nicely-stubbled square jaw. “I have thrown the runes.”

  I cringed. Here we go again, Viking mumbo-jumbo. No doubt he had prayed to Odin, his Viking god, as he threw the stones, which he thought held the answers of the universe. I sighed. “And what did you learn?”

  “Gluttony leads to the unspeakable.”

  “Unspeakable what?”

  “Just the unspeakable. Horrors that cannot be put into words. Horrors best left unsaid. Horrors no one dead or alive wants to ponder.”

  “Great. It sounds worse than your Norse tales.”

  “Abby, my äskling, you’re worth the danger.”

  I inhaled his woodsy scent and let my eyes rove his perfect, Viking-warrior body slowly. To be entwined with him would be so wonderful. A dream come true. An answer to our wanting, our love. “Maybe once would be enough,” I said, but I didn’t believe it. Not for a second.

  His arctic-blue eyes melted with heat, and, even though his ghostly presence cooled the room, my body burned. To be with my Viking warrior for a night would be a fantasy come to life.

  “We won’t do it if you have any concerns.”

  “Of course I have concerns. What if I get trapped in the past? What would happen to my kids?”

  “The magic charm breaks at dawn. You will be home with the kiddoes in the morning, as if you had never left. I trust him on this. It is the way of magic.”

  “But I will remember our time together?”

  “Oh yes. You will remember.” My serious warrior gave me a truly provocative grin. “I will give you many memories you’ll never forget. Trust me on that.”

  “You talk big.”

  He winked. “I am big.”

  My cheeks burned. Okay, I’ll be honest. I had always wondered whether his frank and beans were in proportion to the rest of him, but of course there was no way of finding out. And to talk so candidly about it made me uncomfortable. I had never talked dirty with a guy before Eric. Modern guys were interested in action. I leaned back and thought about using Draino in my kitchen sink because it was draining poorly. But even that couldn’t cool my blood.

  “So, handsome, will one kiss be enough to sell your soul?”

  His face darkened. “That’s not funny.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be.” Someone had to be an adult in the room. Someone had to see the bigger picture. The sorcerer wanted Eric for his own dark deeds.

  “Let us enjoy the kiss. We deserve it.”

  That we did. “And what about the draugr? Can we leave, knowing she’s in town?”

  Eric grumbled and the sound echoed through the room, low and aching. “I will ask the pirate to protect your house. He acts like a fool, but he’s a good man in a fight and a loyal friend. He will not allow any harm to come to the children.”

  “I wish I could tell them they had a pirate for a friend. They would love that.”

  “And a Viking for a father.”

  I nodded slowly. A father? He was more or less living with them, in a dead sort of way, so I guess that fit. “Yeah, that too.”

  “Someday, they will know the whole story, my äskling.”

  I nodded. This was all a lot to take in and the exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on my shoulders. “I gotta get some sleep,” I said and headed to my bedroom. Normally, Eric left me at this point to play poker with his friends, but tonight he stayed with me and I made no comment.

  He watched as I took off my clothes. Maybe he had watched me before, but I wasn’t aware of it. Tonight I was very aware. I could feel his eyes on my body. Maybe I should have felt embarrassed, but instead I felt cherished. When all my clothes were gone, he groaned at my nakedness. A very male groan. I reached under the pillow for my nightgown.

  He groaned again. “I like you naked.”

  “But I’ll be cold.”

  “Let me warm you with my thoughts.”
/>
  I lifted a brow.

  “When we have our night together, I will take you in my arms and hold you close to my chest, feel your soft skin against mine, smell your scent. And then I will prepare you.”

  “Prepare me?” I laughed. “I sound like a trussed chicken.”

  “I will run my hands over your body, over every curve.”

  Uh. Breathe, dear Abby, breathe. “With butter? Or do you baste your foul with other things?”

  “I will hold your luscious breasts in my hands and feel their weight.”

  Uh. I swallowed. I was definitely losing my feathers.

  “And rub your nipples with my fingers. Slowly.”

  Ah hell.

  “I will have no mercy.”

  Stubborn Viking.

  “I will play till you scream.”

  I sighed, no longer feeling like a chicken. Nope, not a chicken.

  “Then, after you shatter, I will trail sweet kisses down your body.”

  I waited. This was the best Norse tale of all.

  “And with my tongue . . .”

  11

  As the morning mist blanketed the land and a low gray sky threatened rain, Eric arrived at Graystone Manor. The official plan was that he and Abby would go together in the afternoon, but he had no intention of putting her in any danger without knowing the draugr’s intentions.

  The place appeared suitably scary for human consumption, complete with howling hounds, blackened windows and thick, sticky cobwebs, but such things did not bother him. He had seen worse in other dimensions, much worse, especially in those inhabited by creatures that had lost their souls.

  He floated through the door and waited at the base of the staircase. “Aslog the draugr, I am Eric Eklund the Viking, and I am here to talk with you.” His voice echoed inside the cavernous stone building. A cat skittered across the floor and ran up the stairs as if it were chased.

  Out of the tense stillness came an image. At first it appeared to be a black blob of dried blood, and then it congealed in front of him in the form of a woman, a living corpse of a woman, tied at the ankles with chains.

  “I am Aslog. You, my blue-eyed Norseman, must belong to that Abby-girl who visited me yesterday.” Her form flowed around him, checking out his specter as her chains rattled.

  “What is it you seek, draugr?”

  She cackled. The unearthly sound set his ghostly nerves on edge. “Viking, I want nothing from you.” A long red tongue emerged from her mouth to lick her lips. “I might want to rephrase that. Nothing for now.”

  “Why are you here?” The walls of the front foyer appeared to breathe in his words and amplify them back into the room with a crisp clarity that irked him. They didn’t sound as if they came from him. Something was off. Perhaps the manor held a magic of its own, or his voice rose of its own accord.

  “I seek a treasure hidden within these walls.”

  “What treasure?”

  “No small talk, handsome? Girls like a bit of small talk first.”

  Erik looked at the finely carved ceiling, willing himself to slow down. The medallions carved into its surface reflected light in an unusual way that might look magnificent on a sunny day, but, on this dreary one, they amplified the somber mood of the neglected building. He would like to strangle the beast, but that would achieve nothing. No doubt she was lonely and wanted conversation. But could he manage that? Her decaying flesh smelled worse than a fresh corpse. No doubt a result of her raw-food diet of souls. “I am not here to chat. You came by Abby’s house, the one I share with her. I must know your intentions.”

  “You want to get rid of me.” She rattled her chains.

  The ghastly sound annoyed him. “Stop with your nonsense, draugr. I want to make a deal with you. We can help each other.”

  “A Viking helping a draugr? That would be a first.”

  “We are both searching this house for its secrets. If we work together we can find what we are looking for faster. If we oppose one another, we’ll become locked in a battle which neither of us needs.”

  “My my, good-looking, you have a brain.”

  Eric’s ghostly gut twisted. The more she talked, the more her breath excreted the stench of her inner foulness. It took a minute for him to recover his voice. “We don’t have time for insults, woman. Tell me if you’ve seen the diamonds.”

  “No, sweet cheeks, I have not.”

  “Tell me what you seek.”

  “Why should I? What will you do for me in return?”

  “I’ll remove your chains.”

  “You would?” Her chains stilled.

  He nodded.

  “It will make it harder for you to catch me.”

  “I have no interest in ending your existence, Aslog. You do not interest me. I am here to find the diamonds for Abby.” Which was mostly true. Having a draugr around was not good for the neighborhood, but he could worry about that later. Right now he wanted the diamonds for Abby.

  Her visage flew back and forth in front of him, as if the repetitive movement helped her think, and then she came to a stop at his side. “Remove my chains and I will tell you what you want to know.” The foulness of her breath swept over him.

  “No. You must tell me first.”

  She cackled and the sound made his ghostly specter cringe. He felt as if a razor blade trailed along his ghostly nerve endings, fraying them one by one. She cackled again. He glared at her.

  “All right, Viking. I will take pity on your old, Norse soul and tell you my mission. I seek the grimoire of an ancient family of witches, the Zagars. Some say their book of magic has a potion in it that sets draugrs free. That is all I want: my freedom.”

  Eric nodded. “So why did you go to Abby’s house?”

  “I went to see if Abby was really who she seemed to be. And she was. I have no further interest in your home or your family.”

  “The Zagars’ grimoire is an interesting quest.” He rubbed his chin. The idea of a draugr becoming free did not appeal to him, any more than a draugr owning a powerful book of spells. He wanted to believe her capable of doing some good with the wisdom she had gathered over the centuries, but he had never met a well-intentioned draugr. He appraised her rotting figure once more and used his kinetic ability to break the chains that bound her ankles. The magical iron bands burst into blue flames and melted into mist, releasing her legs.

  She cackled her delight. “Sweet cheeks, I didn’t know you cared.”

  He grumbled, and the unhappy sound echoed through the rooms of Graystone Manor, acting as a low note to her high-pitched laughter.

  “We’ll make wonderful partners,” she said with the toothless grin of her maggot-ridden corpse. Had he had made a deal with a she-devil?

  “Tell me about the Zagars.”

  “They go way back. Back before written time, back before draugrs and Vikings, back to a time when all that existed was the chaos of mist and myths. Their magic is arcane, stronger than any magic that followed. I must have their grimoire. It will set me free and then I will sell its magic.”

  “Do you not wonder why it has been hidden for so long?” He had been around long enough to know that things happened for a reason and one needed to pay attention to such things.

  She shrugged.

  Her motivation seemed clear enough. “And you have no interest in the diamonds we seek?”

  Her decaying face shook, and her left ear fell off. She caught it in mid-air and squished it back onto her blackened head. “Diamonds don’t interest me. Don’t get me wrong, I do like pretty rocks, but over the years I’ve collected more than I need. What I seek is freedom. Help me find that book, and I will help you in any way I can. I can be a worthy ally.”

  “An interesting offer.” He bit his tongue. The thought of being bound with her wrenched his gut.

  The sound of heavy rainfall hitting the window panes brought him back to the moment. “I must get home, where I am needed.”

  Aslog followed him to the door. “I will keep a
n eye out for your shiny rocks, big man.”

  “And when Abby and I come back to begin our search of the manor, we will keep an eye out for the Zagars’ grimoire.”

  “Deal.” She cackled her delight as he exited as fast as his ghostly apparition could manage.

  Why, he wondered, was his death so complicated?

  12

  As Eric neared the teahouse property, his essence compressed to a thin slice of being as if he had been squeezed between two rolling pins. He had experienced this squished sensation once before, as a result of engaging with protection wards set up by a witch with a wicked temper, but he had never experienced anything like it in Sunset Cove.

  What was going on? Built on a power nexus, the teahouse was an inter-dimensional threshold, a portal between worlds. While several such sacred places existed on the earthly plane, few had the power and warmth of the teahouse. It helped the good and repelled the bad. It nurtured. It loved. And it protected. It did not squish.

  Who set up the blasted protection wards? Had the teahouse built them? Who was it protecting, and from whom?

  Joy stood at the reception desk, dressed in one of her French maid’s outfits, and her thick black makeup could never hide her beauty. She smirked when he shimmered into view in front of her.

  “Well, well, look what the storm blew in,” she said in her flat tone.

  “The house feels different today,” he said.

  She narrowed her stormy grey eyes. “How can this house, which is completely different from all other houses on earth, possibly feel any more different than usual?”

  “Oh, for the love of Odin! Are you studying philosophy again?”

  “Naw, I’m just PM Essy.”

  Eric winced.

  “Too much information, eh?”

  He gave a ghostly grumble. “Where is Azalea?”

  “Right here.” The older woman emerged from the first tea room, looking her implacable self. Piled on top of her head her silver hair appeared ready to fall over at any moment, but her gray eyes were as solid as granite.

  He smiled at her. “Did you place a spell on the property?”