I found the kitchen chair, half blind with the tears, and slumped into it while Eric served me a big bowl of something warm. I started spooning it into my mouth without asking what it was, letting out a hmm of appreciation at the Cajun spices, and chased it with slices of fresh bread slathered in butter. My belly was immeasurably happier as I filled it with things that made me feel loved.
“Talk to me,” I mumbled around a mouthful. “What happened with Corb?”
Eric sighed and sat across from me. “Corb separated us from you, and he told you that we wanted to be alone. That wasn’t true. I told him Suzy and I were going to my house for the night to get a few things and talk about how to best handle her siren abilities. By the time we came to find you, you were in jail. Corb never contacted us about trying to break you out. Crash did.”
His words halted the spoon halfway to my mouth. “Why would Corb do that?”
Alan appeared and sat next to Eric with a grunt. “Because Corb is like that. I told you he gets what he wants when it comes to women. And for whatever reason he wants—pardon me, wanted—you. The fact that you kept turning him down probably only made him want you more.”
I frowned at him and so did Eric. As a bigfoot, he lived kind of in between realms and could see and hear ghosts.
“She is lovely, despite what you want to see or say,” Eric said. “And as she continues to gain confidence, more men will be drawn to her because confidence is beauty. Especially for a strong man. But you’re not wrong about the way rejection is affecting him. Sirens don’t get turned down.” He blushed a little because, of course, Suzy was a siren and she and Eric were together in every sense of the word. “But being turned down is a new thing for Corb, and he doesn’t know how to handle it.”
Alan’s face twisted up. “You aren’t his usual type is all. He normally picks women who have no brains and big—” He held his hands out in front of his chest, making the classic cupping motion.
Eric lifted a hand. “You made the right choice, sending him away. He . . .is not thinking straight. Sirens are dangerous, especially when their hormones are out of control. It’s not a good time to deny them—”
“You saying I should have slept with him?” I spluttered out bits of my soup.
Eric shook his head. “No, let me finish. My point is that he’s not really in control of his behavior right now. Possessiveness and hormones are driving his actions. The effect is similar to that spell that the O’Seans put on the Hollows Group. These are classic symptoms of a male siren going through a change. Add in the whole turning him down thing, and you have a perfect storm of emotions that even he doesn’t know how to handle.”
Eric was a psychologist to the shadow world, and I forgot sometimes that he was very good at what he did.
Alan rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Please, he went through puberty years ago.”
Eric glanced at him and then at me, his eyes serious. “Think about it as a second puberty. The one he is hitting now. . . well, it’s basically his paternal clock ticking. I think part of the reason he wants you is because he could see you’d be a good mother—”
“She can’t get pregnant,” Alan spat out. “Couldn’t carry to term. All that money spent on in vitro, and nothing. So maybe Corb’ll leave her alone if she tells him that.”
My stomach turned as the old disappointment—so bitter, so wrenching—tumbled through me.
Eric’s eyes softened, and he reached over and put a hand on mine, which had suddenly gone cold. “Bree, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
I stood up. “Eric, thank you. I’m going to go lie down. Alan, if you come near me in the next few hours I will take you back to Marge and ask her to stuff you into a voodoo doll.”
Through blurred eyes, I found my way to the stairs and stumbled into a bedroom.
Of course, it wasn’t mine.
I bumped into Crash’s chest—smelling him before I truly saw him—and bounced back, feeling my way blindly back to the door. I couldn’t even speak. There were no words for the wave of emotion and grief that had caught me so off guard.
Years, it had been years since I’d last tried to get pregnant, but those losses still hurt. They still reminded me of the one thing I couldn’t do. Something I, as a woman, should have been able to do.
His hands swept up and settled on my shoulders. “Easy. What happened? Are you okay?”
“Corb wanted to get me pregnant, and I can’t, and that was the only reason he wanted me. That’s not how it works for me.” The words blubbered out of me, along with a fair number of tears and probably snot.
The miscarriages, the inability to get pregnant without help, all of it was my fault. Okay, yes, I knew it wasn’t a fault thing but that was how it felt. Like I was broken, or less of a woman because I couldn’t have a child.
A sob escaped me, and I clapped my hands over my mouth. No, I wasn’t allowed to break down about this—of all things!—now. Two people I loved were depending on me to find them.
Crash scooped me up then sat in a large chair in the corner of the room, cradling me in his lap.
“Let it out, lass,” he whispered into my ear, holding me tightly against his chest.
Those four words undid me, and the tears and whimpers slipped out of me in a way I’d never allowed to happen before. Yes, it was the loss of those sleeping babies. Yes, it was the loss of never being a mother.
But it was also the loss of Gran.
Of my parents.
Of all those years that had been a blur with Alan because I’d been too afraid to step up and demand better from him.
Sitting in that jail cell, thinking I’d be killed for a crime I didn’t commit. All those emotions had welled up without getting any release, and they’d come for me with a vengeance.
Crash didn’t shush me. He held me tightly and let me sob against his chest as I clung to his shirt, my nails digging into the soft material. The warmth of his body curled through me like a blanket just pulled out of the dryer on a cold night, and I breathed it in. Warmth and safety, he was both, and I needed it more than I wanted to admit.
The emotions came in waves, and I just let them flow through me, out my eyes, and down my cheeks. For the first time, I really let myself process everything that had happened to me.
“It isn’t weakness to feel this way, lass,” Crash murmured. “You’ve handled all that’s been thrown at you, and that includes me being an ass when you needed me to be better. It was bound to come out at some point.”
He kissed the top of my head and a final hiccupping sob popped out of me, and that was the last of it. Not that I wouldn’t feel any of this sorrow or grief again, but the thought of what Corb had wanted from me was gone, washed away. I could put him behind me, once and for all.
“Sorry.” I grimaced and tried to pull away from Crash, wiping ineffectually at the wet spots on his shirt. I wasn’t embarrassed, but I teetered on the edge of it. “I didn’t mean to slobber all over you.”
“Don’t go.” He tightened his hold on me as I tried to pull back, his gold-flecked blue eyes staring hard into mine. “Don’t go, Bree. Please.”
Well, who was I to deny a plea like that? I leaned back into him, letting myself sink into his warmth again. Letting my arms sneak around him. He gave a satisfied rumble that I could hear through his chest.
“Nemeth was helpful,” I said and yawned. “Thank you. Is Kinkly okay?”
“Kink is fine. She is an excellent spy, which is what she is doing now.” He paused, then added, “You asked for help?” The surprise in Crash’s voice was not lost on me.
“Am I that bad?”
I looked up, and he shook his head. “No, you aren’t. I’m just surprised you let him take you to Homer. He’s a scummy little pawnshop broker on the east side of the city.” Crash’s hands trailed up and down my back in gentle circles.
The motion of his hands was distracting me from his words. “No, he took me to Homer and Marge.”
His hands s
topped quite suddenly. “He took you to the voodoo priestess?”
I looked up. “Yeah, but she was super helpful. She likes me, I think.”
“What did you give her?”
Crash’s worry infecting me, I sat up straighter and shook my head. “Nothing. I gave her nothing. I mean, I gave Homer a fifty-dollar-bill for his time. Why?”
He puffed up his cheeks and then blew out a slow breath. “You get away with things that would get the rest of us hung up by our toes. You were very lucky if you didn’t have to give her anything else. Like a lock of hair. She can make a voodoo doll out of anything, even a single hair would be enough.”
I gave him a dry look and once more made an attempt to raise a single eyebrow. Nope, it wasn’t happening. “Um, you do remember that I’m being accused of a murder I didn’t commit? I wouldn’t call that getting away with anything.”
He gave me a quick smile. “I know. I meant your luck with the rest of the shadow world. If I’d gone there, at the very least, she’d have tried to take something to make a voodoo doll of me.” His face paled rapidly as he looked me over, but I shook my head.
“I didn’t touch anything, and with the exception of Alan pissing her off—shocker, I know—it went fine. We man bashed and she warmed up to me real quick.” I shrugged. “I have a knack with pissed-off, disgruntled women. What can I say?”
Crash cupped my face with his hands, and I thought for a brief and giddy moment he was going to kiss me, but all he did was press his forehead to mine. “I won’t get in your way, but please be careful. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”
I pulled back a little and summoned some of my new self-confidence. “You mean you want all the crazy I got going on?”
His lips twitched. “Are you saying that you forgive me for being an idiot?”
Hmm. I narrowed my eyes. “You told me why you turned away from me after your fight with the goblin king. What has changed?”
Crash didn’t let me go, didn’t back away from what had to be an uncomfortable question. “The reason is still there. I just realized that I would have to take the chance if I want you in my life. It really is that simple. No matter how much it makes me want to follow you around with bubble wrap, that isn’t going to happen.”
“Yeah, no.” I bobbed my head in agreement. “And the note you left? I probably have a screen shot of it in my head.”
He cleared his throat and gave a slow shake of his head. “That was the work of someone else. Who unfortunately you are going to have to talk to at some point.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk to Karissa.”
“Wasn’t her,” he said. “But I think that should be a discussion for another day. Right now, I can feel the exhaustion in you and you should sleep.”
I smiled. “I am tired. But some fairy honey would help.” Oh, that would be amazing. Fairy honey was a wicked fae drink that would wipe away the crushing fatigue and keep me going. Sure, there was a kick back at some point, but I was willing to pay that price to find Charlotte and Gran quicker.
“I’ve got none, but if I run across any while I’m here, I’ll grab it.” He stood but didn’t put me down, just held me in his arms. Those big biceps of his had no problem lifting me. If I’d been standing, I totally would have swooned. “You sleep a few hours, and then you can go out again. Hopefully, Kinkly will be back by then.”
I took note that he didn’t say anything about coming with me. I yawned before I could form a question about that.
He laid me on his bed, and as I slid down his arms, my fingers found his. I held onto his hand. “Stay with me. Just . . .until I fall asleep.”
There was no hesitation in him. He didn’t ask me why I wanted company, nor did he imply that I was lesser for it. He just accepted that I needed something he could give me.
And that was how I ended up in bed with Crash.
Again.
20
The bed was plenty big enough for us to not touch, but Crash pulled me into his arms and I settled against him with a sigh. I wanted to tell him what I’d learned from Marge the voodoo priestess and Homer, her seemingly submissive partner.
“Homer said—”
“Go to sleep,” Crash repeated, his body solid and warm and so very safe. “We’ll talk when you wake up.”
Mind you, being snuggled up to him when he was wrapped in nothing but a sheet was preferable, but this was good too. I’d take it.
He must have felt my smile against his chest.
“Sleep, and stop thinking about me naked.” He growled the sound making my skin flush and my hormones perk up in a way that was probably not conducive to sleep.
Don’t worry, it’s not one of those scenes. You’re good to keep reading.
I sighed and snuggled up close to him, drawing in a deep breath that was all Crash. A hint of smoke, a curl of coal fires, and the slightest whisper of something musky and manly. My eyes closed, and while I’d thought sleep would avoid me, I had a full belly, the room was dark, and the safety and warmth of Crash. The only other man who I knew for sure was on my side was Robert.
As if thinking of him drew him to my dreams, I blinked and found myself standing back at the edge of the St. Louis Cemetery Number 1, Robert at my side. The lifelike version of him.
“Hey,” I said. “Dreaming here, do you mind? I don’t really like this place, and it doesn’t much like me. Too many ghosts, remember?”
He turned an icy blue eye my way. “I didn’t bring you here. I’m tied to you, Bree, and you came here. The question is why?”
I turned away from him to look at the cemetery and let the words flow from me. “Because something in there scared me, and I don’t like feeling weak or afraid.”
Robert crossed his arms. “Fair enough.”
“Did you feel it, though?” I asked him. “The menace?”
“I did. Less effective on someone who isn’t really alive.” He grinned and lifted a hand to touch the tip of my chin. “You got rid of the siren. I’m surprised you held out against him, to be honest. He had some serious sex mojo going on.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Not talking about men right now, Robert.”
He grinned and laughed at me. “Life doesn’t come in nice tidy boxes, Bree. That’s why your relationship status is set to ‘complicated.’ Events don’t happen one at a time. They cascade and snowball and try to crush us. Why in the world you think that your story would be orderly is beyond me.”
I frowned at him. “Robert? Any ideas? And how the hell do you know about relationship statuses anyway?”
He looked away, out across the dreamscape of the cemetery. “This place has seen a lot of death and a lot of sacrifices. And I hang out in the bottom of your bag as a finger bone. Sometimes your phone gets turned on. I’ve seen your attempt at duck lips. Stop doing it, it’s terrible.” He winked at me. Cheeky bugger had the nerve to wink!
My jaw dropped. I’m not sure which part was more disturbing—Robert creeping on my Facebook status and photos, or the idea that this cemetery had seen basically a lot of ritual murder.
I pulled myself together and focused once more. Robert seemed to have a lot of knowledge, and I didn’t want to be swept away before I got some of it. I reached out and took his hand, holding him tightly. He squeezed my hand back as if he didn’t want to let me go either.
“Robert, what’s keeping me out of this place?”
He looked back at the cemetery. “Guessing here, but I’d say our necromancer friend is to blame.”
“Yeah, that was what I was worried about,” I muttered. “So how do I—we—get in there?” I asked. “If Charlotte is being held at the abandoned amusement park with the coven, Gran could be here.”
A scuffle of leaves across the ground at our feet and an arctic breeze pushing in from my right side turned me in that direction before Robert could answer me.
A black-robed figure stood across from us, staring out at the cemetery.
I squeaked, pretty su
re I peed a little, and tried to back up. Robert caught me around the waist, holding me to his chest so he could whisper in my ear. “I don’t think he can see us.”
The robed figure took a step forward and touched the wrought iron fence. A sizzle and a snap lit up the air as voices rolled out around him, screaming that he wasn’t welcome. I recognized those voices.
He pulled back with a snarl and a grimace.
Well, well, well. He couldn’t get in either. That was interesting. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he looked.
And then it hit me.
Gran had been looking for angel wings. This necro guy was looking for something, and a coven of dark witches was waiting in the wings . . . witches who could do a spell for him if he found the ingredients?
“Shit,” I whispered. “What do you want to bet the Coven of Darkness is working with him? That they went for Gran, saw or sensed Charlotte, and took her as a bonus? They could work a spell for him.”
Robert tightened his arms around me, and I clung to him. “That makes sense. But what are we doing at this graveyard?”
He had a valid question. “Maybe there’s a clue to where the angel wings are hidden?” I nodded, already seeing the pieces of the story come together. “It wouldn’t shock me in the least if the ghosts know. Maybe they aren’t bad, but protective?”
Robert’s arms tensed around me. “So you need to talk to them.”
Ugh, I did not want to ask the ghosts from that cemetery anything, but he was right. Eyes on the black-robed necromancer, I took a step back, dragging Robert with me. “Just in case he sees us.”
As if I’d been shouting with a ducking megaphone, the robed figure turned slowly and looked in our direction.
He tipped his head and raised a finger and spoke to me, but pointed at Robert. “I see, so you have found a way to make your mentor teach you. Interesting. Perhaps I should have buried Evangeline deeper. Lovely, then I can kill you both. Properly.”
Mentor? I glanced at Robert to see his face was closed off, giving away no emotion. Evangeline’s grave was where the faux cross had been buried. Robert had said she was a friend, but maybe she’d been more than that?
Midlife Ghost Hunter: A Paranormal Women's Fiction (The Forty Proof Series Book 4) Page 16
