Occult and Battery

by Lena Gregory

  Now what? The thought of going home without Beast brought a wave of sadness. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and pressed her hands to the vents, letting the warmth blow up her arms. At least the visit hadn’t taken long, and the heat was already blowing warm. She lifted the coffee cup from the cup holder and took a sip. Yuck. She’d been gone long enough for it to become ice-cold. She returned the nearly full cup to the holder and dropped her head forward onto the steering wheel.

  Okay. She was going to have to make a decision. The snow had stopped, but the wind still whipped the existing accumulation wildly, reducing visibility to nearly nothing. She’d closed Mystical Musings early to take Beast to the vet, but if what Sue said was true, she might still get a few customers. A gust of wind rattled the car. Probably not.

  A truck passed the parking lot, spreading sand onto the road.

  Cass wiped a few tears from her face, shifted into reverse, and backed out of the parking spot. With darkness beginning to fall, she’d just go home. She braked and hesitated before shifting into drive. Of course, Emmett’s Garage wasn’t that far out of the way. She could swing by and ask if it was Conrad whom Joan had been arguing with.

  The ringtone from her purse allowed her another moment of procrastination as she put the car back in park and dug the phone from her bag. One glance at the screen chased away some of the chill. Luke. A small smile formed as she swiped the screen and answered. “Hey there.”

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  Heat surged. Why did the same phrase Bee often used turn her insides to mush when Luke said it? Oh. Right. That sexier-than-anything southern drawl of his.

  “How’s the weekend going? Are you wowing them with your superior psychic abilities?”

  “Uh . . .” The image from above the fireplace flickered through her mind. “I guess you could say I was.”

  “Was? Not anymore?”

  “Nope. The weekend got cut short because of the . . . um . . .” Surely it was okay to tell Luke about the murder. He was a detective on the mainland, so he couldn’t have possibly been involved.

  “Cass?”

  The concern in his voice eased the gap between them, stirring feelings she wasn’t ready to think about. Heat was one thing, tenderness something else entirely.

  “It got cut short when Conrad Wellington was found hanging in the cupola.”

  “Hanging?”

  “Dead.”

  “He hung himself?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly? How do you not exactly hang yourself?” A slight touch of frustration crept in to overshadow the concern.

  “It seems someone helped him get up there.”

  “He was murdered? Cass!”

  She ripped the phone away from her ear. She could still hear his voice as clearly as if he were in the car next to her. She allowed one moment to wish he were, to envision laying her head on his hard chest, to feel the strength of his arms surrounding her as he pulled her into his warm embrace. She shook her head, dispelling the image. Okay. Enough of that. Now, what was he saying?

  “Do they have whoever killed him?”

  She cringed. “No.”

  Luke took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She imagined him counting to ten in his head. “Okay. I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to get upset. I’ll give Tank a call and get the details of the case.” Luke and Tank had become fast friends over the past few months. “Now. Are you all right?”

  “I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess? Were you hurt?”

  Cass shook her head, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “No. I’m fine, just a little . . .” What was she? “Sad.” She gave him a brief rundown of the weekend—he flipped a little when he found out she’d been trapped in the mansion overnight with a killer—then told him about the incident with Beast. After she assured him Beast was going to be okay, he had a good, deep belly laugh over that one.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get there to see you. Things have been crazy here.”

  “I understand.” Except, she didn’t. Not really. Or she did, but she just wanted to see him, so it didn’t matter.

  “Forgive me?”

  She avoided answering that one. “The ferry’s not running right now anyway.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll see if I can get away next weekend. We’ll do something special.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Usually, when she hung up the phone with Luke, she was left feeling pleasantly relaxed—even a little tingly—by his southern-boy charm. The thick drawl reaching some part of her that hadn’t been touched in a long time. But if she never got to see him, what was the point? She tossed the phone on the seat, pity her new companion.

  She once again shifted into drive and slowly navigated the empty parking lot. It had been a long time since she’d driven on icy roads. Too long. She’d lost her touch. Living in New York City all those years had spoiled her. Why bother driving on ice and snow when you could hop on the train or bus and let someone else worry about the slippery conditions?

  She made it to the edge of the lot and sat at the exit, indecision taunting her. She could make a left and go straight home to a warm, cozy house. An empty house, now that Beast wasn’t there. She hit the turn signal, pulled out, and made a right. It’d be just as easy to go the long way and swing past Emmett’s Garage, then loop around and head home. It wasn’t that far out of the way. Besides, she’d pass the old Madison Estate, and she was curious if anyone was still staying there or if they’d all moved to the Bay Side Hotel.

  As soon as she got home, she’d make a cup of hot tea, pull out her laptop and research the dog training sites Doc had given her. There had to be some way to train this dog without having to put him in a cage. The idea just didn’t sit well in her gut.

  Flurries drifted onto her windshield, dragging her concentration to the road ahead. New snow seemed to be falling, in addition to what was already blowing. All of the slush that had melted under the bright sunlight was now re-freezing. Cass eased off the gas, the darkness making the icy road more difficult to navigate. As the road inclined toward the mansion, her tires slipped. Fear clutched her chest. Squeezed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The tires gripped a clear section of blacktop, and Cass slowed a little more. She probably should have gone straight home.

  The populated residential section of the island, where Doc Martin’s office was located, gave way to a more secluded, wooded area. Darkness encroached. The snow increased, the drifting flakes changing to a more steady snowfall. The snowflakes flew at her, limiting visibility. If she didn’t speed up, there was no way she’d make it up the hill. Holding her breath, she eased her foot down on the gas, accelerating slowly, but steadily. So far, so good.

  As she rounded the curve at the top of the hill and the street leveled out, she blew out a breath. With a shaky hand, she pushed her hair back out of her face. “Well, that was scary.” Nervous laughter escaped. She’d have to make it a point to practice driving in bad weather. Last year’s unusually mild winter had spoiled her. Though they didn’t get as much snow as upstate New York, Bay Island still got its fair share of winter weather, and she couldn’t freak out every time she had to drive in it.

  She lifted sweaty strands of hair off the back of her neck, then turned down the heat. Squinting through the snow as she came upon the Madison Estate—she still couldn’t think of it as a bed-and-breakfast—she slowed to a crawl and tried to make out any cars parked in the driveway. None that she could see, but a light shone in the cupola. Was someone up there? Sweat trickled down the side of her face, but this time it had nothing to do with driving on the slick roads. Every other window stood dark and empty, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Definitely time to go home.

  Forcing her attention back to the road, Cass continued on toward E
mmett’s. Darkness had fully descended, and she glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Five thirty. She might still catch him locking up if she hurried. She picked up a little speed heading down the hill, the intensity of the snow coming at her dizzying, giving the illusion of rocketing through space. Her stomach lurched.

  The back end of the little Volkswagen Jetta slid again.

  Her heart hammered. She gripped the wheel tighter, fighting her mind’s commands to relax. She was going too fast, her back end fishtailing with half the length of the hill still ahead. Grappling with the steering wheel, Cass struggled to straighten the car.

  Panic clawed at her throat, and a surge of adrenaline shot through her. She slammed on the brake pedal, remembering too late she shouldn’t have. Ah jeez . . .

  All four tires released their tentative purchase, and the Jetta careened out of control. The passenger side door hit something. A tree? Then ricocheted toward the snow bank on the opposite side of the road. Trees whirled by as the car spun, caught on something, and started to roll. The sensation of being airborne assailed her, an instant before her head smacked the window.

  Dizziness left her unable to tell if the car was still in motion. Her stomach roiled. Bile surged up the back of her throat. An eddy of darkness invaded her peripheral vision, and everything went black.

  11

  “Hey.”

  Cass fought to ignore the voice intruding on her peace. She floated in darkness, reality nothing but a blur.

  “Hey. Are you okay in there?”

  Pain sliced through her head, dragging her forcefully from her tranquil slumber. Ugh . . .

  Bang, bang, bang. “Hey. I’m gonna help get you out. Can you open the window?”

  Could she? She had no idea. She didn’t even know which way was up. She seemed to be suspended in midair. Ridiculous. She tried to push back the disorientation. Had to focus. Feeling around with one hand, she struggled to make sense of where she was. Pressure on her chest and shoulder. The seat belt?

  The driver side door screeched open reluctantly.

  “Are you all right?”

  Cass pried open her eyes and glanced up into the face of . . . an angel? It had to be. He was perfect. The strong features, intense eyes . . . eyes . . . something familiar about those eyes.

  “Hey. Wake up.” A hand gripped her shoulder.

  Clarity started to intrude on her dream of angels. And with it came pain. She reached up to touch the side of her forehead, and her hand came away wet. Blood? Too dark to tell. Her eyes couldn’t focus. Eyes? Hadn’t she just been thinking about eyes?

  “Grab onto my arm.”

  Her body obeyed without her mind’s approval, wrapping her arms around his arm as she struggled to see what he was doing. A glint of light. She squinted. Just a reflection, a streetlight reflecting off the blade of a knife.

  Knife?

  The knife plunged toward her.

  She sucked in a breath. Her last? Figured her hot angel rescuer would turn out to be a psycho serial killer. She squeezed her eyes closed tight.

  Without warning, the pressure against her side and chest released. If not for her hold on the stranger, she’d have tumbled over when he cut the seat belt.

  He grabbed her shoulder and started to pull. “Come on. You have to try to help.”

  Ice pellets hit her face, clearing some of the fog from her brain. Her eyes flew open.

  “Cass?”

  She pressed her feet against something solid and pushed herself up, half climbing as he dragged her from the car.

  “Cass Donovan?”

  She opened her mouth but couldn’t force any sound over her dry tongue, so she settled for nodding. Ouch! She winced. Note to self: no nodding.

  “It’s Jim. Jim Wellington.” He helped her to sit on the driver’s side of the car, which was now the top. The car had rolled on its side and come to a stop when it plowed into a tree. “Are you all right?” He pulled off a glove and pressed it to her head. “This is all I have right now. Hold it on that cut until I can take a look at it. Come on, now. Swing your legs around, and let me help you down.”

  She did as instructed, leaning toward his open arms as he helped her down from the car.

  “Just stay still for a minute and make sure you’re okay.” He put an arm around her shoulders, waiting, concern etched in the creases at the corners of his eyes.

  The cold seeped into her bones, and she started to shiver. She pulled her coat closed tighter. What the . . . ? Both hands came away wet. Jeez. How badly was she bleeding? She lifted a hand toward the streetlight. Not blood. She sniffed her fingers. Coffee! Relief and nausea rushed through her.

  “Come on, hon. Let’s get you to the car.”

  She frowned and turned to stare at the car on its side. He couldn’t possibly think they were going anywhere in that.

  Jim started to walk, slowly guiding her around the back of her Jetta. A dark SUV sat idling. She tried to shake off some of the confusion as he guided her into the passenger seat and helped her with her seat belt.

  A jolt of terror pierced her heart. “Beast?”

  “Beast? Was he in the car?” Jim spun toward the Jetta.

  “No. Wait.” A memory surfaced.

  He stopped and looked back at her.

  She’d been so upset when Beast had to stay with the vet overnight. Now, she couldn’t be more thankful. “No.” She shook her head. Ah jeez. Okay. No shaking either. Trying to keep the headache at bay and keep from bleeding to death, she pressed the glove harder against her head. “Beast isn’t with me.”

  “Is anyone else in the car?”

  “No.” This time she was careful to keep her head still.

  “Are you sure?”

  She tried to think. She’d gone to the vet alone. Hadn’t she? Stephanie had gone to dinner with Tank, and Bee had to start work on a dress design for a shop in the city. “I’m sure.”

  “All right, then. Let’s get you back to the house.”

  “House?”

  “The bed-and-breakfast. I want to see how badly you’re injured, then we can decide if you need to go to the hospital.”

  Hospital? No way. She narrowed her eyes, forcing her gaze to focus on the dashboard. With a little effort, she was able to force both dashboards to merge together and become one. There. No need for a hospital.

  Jim closed the door quietly then rounded the front of the SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat. He brushed the snow out of his soaking wet hair and shifted into reverse. Placing his arm across the seat behind her, he started to turn and back up. Then stopped. His gaze caught on hers. He held her stare, the intensity darkening the green of his eyes.

  Cass tore her gaze away to look out the windshield.

  A second later, Jim backed onto the road and started slowly back up the hill. “What were you doing out in this weather?”

  “I had to take Beast to the vet. He ate . . . something.”

  “You’re sure he’s not in the car, right?”

  “I’m sure. The vet kept him overnight for observation.”

  “Lucky thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  With that, she ran out of energy for small talk. Sliding down in the seat, she rested her head against the back. Her eyes drifted closed.

  “No sleeping.” Jim rubbed his hand down her arm and gripped her hand.

  Cass opened her eyes and stared at him.

  “When we were little, Mother never let us sleep after a bump to the head.” He frowned. “Not sure why, but there you have it. I guess some things just stick.” He released her hand and returned his attention to the road, his comfortable laughter easing her frayed nerves a bit. If he was having trouble driving, he wouldn’t be so relaxed. Right? Although, Jim seemed like the type of guy who took everything in stride, the kind who could walk into the most hostile situation and d
iffuse the tension in seconds with his carefree, laid-back attitude.

  “What were you doing out in this mess?”

  He shrugged. “I’m supposed to leave sometime tomorrow, but I had a few things to do up at the mansion. I figured I’d run over and take care of them tonight.” He turned that easygoing grin on her, melting a little more of her stress. “Guess I should have checked the weather first, huh?”

  She laughed with him. “No kidding.”

  He hit the turn signal—even though there was no one around for miles—pushed a button on his visor, waited for the gates to open, and turned into the driveway. His tires slid a little as he made the turn, but he easily regained control without even a hitch in his breathing.

  She sighed and glanced at the lit cupola. Darkness drifted over her, and she pressed the glove tighter to her head and held her breath, afraid she might pass out. Then it lifted. Oh . . . oh no . . . She’d experienced the sensation of a shadow crossing her vision before, and it never ended well. She searched frantically for anything that could have caused the sensation—branches blowing in the wind, a bird flying overhead, a cloud slipping in front of the moon—anything other than the fact that someone nearby was going to die soon. Nothing. Oh crap.

  • • •

  “Let me have a look at your head.” Inside the house, Jim leaned over Cass, the subtle scent of his aftershave—a hint of citrus—intoxicating.

  She straightened in the chair, leaning an elbow on the table for support, and tentatively lifted the glove aside, afraid blood would start gushing the instant she removed the pressure. “Is it bad?”

  “Nah. Not really. Head wounds bleed a lot, and that’s already slowed to a trickle.” He took the glove from her hand. “I’ll be right back. Just sit here, don’t try to get up, okay?”