“Oh shut up about your stupid degree.” Vespers shoved him, then padded in her organic sandals to come stand beside me at the fireplace. “Where do we start, boss man?”
“I’m not sure…” I closed my eyes, trying to pinpoint the strongest area of energy within the fireplace. It was a huge area, almost big enough to crawl inside and have tea with five of your closest friends.
Ian startled me by wrapping his long fingers around my bicep. “Try once more.”
I glanced at him, confused.
“Together, we’re stronger,” he murmured, squeezing.
So I closed my eyes and tried again.
This time, I was flooded by information. Imagery hit me so hard and fast that the only reason I remained on my feet was Ian’s hand holding my arm.
Arguing. Impassioned rage. Pain blossomed on the side of my head and, in my mind, I fell. A vague feeling of being dragged. The sensation of dirt piling on top of me.
“The floor,” I said, opening my eyes. “He is human. And he’s buried inside the fireplace.”
“So we dig,” Trevor said. He clapped Ian on the shoulder. “Let’s find some shovels, man.”
Ian, having spent the majority of his existence on Horeland Estate, knew exactly where the shovels were, but Trevor didn’t know that. Though I’d shared the truth about him — and me — to my best friend, I wasn’t ready to test Trevor’s loyalty by pinning him with my ghost story. The two men disappeared to get shovels, and Ves and I stared at each other.
“Do you feel like everything is different?” I asked, my voice sounding alien.
She smiled, shaking her head so that her dreadlocks swung. “Nah. You’re overthinking things. The only thing that’s changed is I’ll never have to worry you’ll die.”
I giggled, but then sobered as I realized I still had to worry about her.
Moments later, we were armed appropriately to tackle the fireplace.
“My sister’s going to kill me,” I pointed out as Ian and Trevor manhandled old logs and the grate that held them.
“What else is new?” Vespers joked. “I’m sure she’ll be no angrier than the time you tie-dyed her favorite shirt.”
The lights in the living room flickered. The four of us stopped working: Trevor in the act of tossing a log in a cardboard box, Ian gently setting the last of the grate on the carpet, and Vespers and I posed to begin shoveling on the now clear dirt floor.
“Was that him?” Vespers asked.
Ian nodded grimly. “Yes. That is the creature.”
“Don’t call him a creature,” I admonished, shoving the blade in the dirt and stepping on it to dig deep. “He’s not a creature. We’re going to find out who he is.”
The lights flickered again, twice, and then went out.
Vespers’ voice was low as she remarked, “I don’t think he’s happy we’re digging.”
I heard fumbling in the dark, and then the room filled with light as Trevor found the curtains. “There.”
“There are flashlights in my bag,” I called to Ian, knowing full well as soon as Trevor walked away, those curtains would shut.
Which was exactly what happened, plunging us into darkness.
“Shit!” Trevor cried, his footsteps retreating.
“Don’t bother,” I called as Ian flicked on a flashlight. “He’ll only close them again.”
“Why would he not want us to dig?” Vespers asked, her shovel scraping dirt. “If he’s buried here, and his body is anchoring him to the house, wouldn’t he want it found? To be interred peacefully?”
“I’m no longer sure I believe in that sentiment,” I huffed, pausing in my efforts to wipe sweat from my forehead. “That’s probably just something the living made up to explain why ghosts stick around.”
Ian turned on three flashlights, and upended them on the coffee table so that dim yellow light flooded the room. “How does that fare?”
“Fare?” Trevor chuckled, picking his shovel up.
I shoved him. “It’s great, thank you, Ian.”
“You better shape up, or we’re going to tag team you,” Vespers told Trevor, threatening him with her shovel before she tucked it into the dirt once more.
We worked silently for several moments with no further interruptions. I knew the spirit hadn’t left; I could feel him nearby, angry and confused. He didn’t make any further move to stop us, and it wasn’t long before we uncovered what we were looking for.
Bones.
An arm came into view first. The four of us dropped to our knees and began to gently brush away the dirt. It was packed tight in some places, so by the time we’d uncovered the entire skeleton, I had dirt under my fingernails, my joints ached, and I was sweating profusely.
“Well, there he is,” I said, sitting back on my heels.
“What now?” Vespers asked quietly.
“We hope he shows up.”
Ian, who had been silent for some time, leaned over the skeleton, zeroing in on the glint of a chain around the man’s neck.
“Sweet, merciful Lord,” he murmured. He clasped the necklace and yanked. For a long moment, we watched him stare at the locket, his eyes wide.
“What is it, Ian?” I finally asked.
“This isn’t the creature,” he said softly. “It’s me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ian’s long fingers worked the latch, and the locket fell open with a tiny click.
I peered over his shoulder at a small portrait of a baby.
“Maggie,” Ian said, his voice choked. “My daughter.”
I jerked. “You had a kid?”
He nodded, gaze still on the locket. “She was only a month old when Ramona passed. She was the reason I remained at Horeland. The reason her father asked me to remain. So that I could be with my child, and they wouldn’t lose the only piece of Ramona they had left.”
“You were close to Ramona’s family.”
“Very.”
The attack came swiftly, as if prompted by Ian’s one-word answer. The flashlights died, fading the room to black. I was shoved aside by a giant force as it descended on Ian.
“Ian!” I called, blind in the darkness.
“Boss, are you okay?” Vespers yelled, panic in her voice.
“I’m fine. It went after Ian.” I skittered forward on my knees, following the grunts and thuds of a fight. I had no idea what I could do to help, but I couldn’t let him fight this battle alone.
He didn’t have to. The room suddenly lit up as if it were spotlighted. Time slowed. I noted Vespers and Trevor clinging to each other inside the fireplace, their eyes on something behind me. A foot away, Ian was on the floor, struggling against a sinuous black mist that wound around his body. His gaze was focused behind me, as well.
I turned, falling to my butt as I stared up at a woman…
… who looked just like me.
Short and curvy, with her dark hair hanging over her shoulder in a long fishtail braid, the woman glowed from the inside, bathing us in her light. She lifted a hand, her face serene, and with the flick of her fingers, she threw the dark energy across the room.
Ian scrambled to his feet. “Nicole. How…?”
I stared at him. His wife’s name was Ramona. “Nicole?”
“This is my sister-in-law,” Ian answered.
“And that is my brother,” Nicole said, her voice like bells. But she wasn’t directing the statement at Ian — her gaze was on the shadow behind him.
The dark energy.
Like color melting away, the shadows fell from a human-like form until the ghost beneath was revealed. Similar coloring to Nicole, though tall and muscular, and severely pissed off.
“This is the man who murdered me,” Ian said, anger lacing his tone. “Richard Horeland.”
“See?” I said, smug that I was right.
“My father was replacing me with you.” The man’s voice was deep. It seemed to echo off the living room walls.
“Not this again.” Nicole sighed.
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Ian’s face was thunderous. “That is the reason you took my life? You took me away from my daughter because you believed I was replacing you?”
“He overheard Father telling his lawyer to add you to the will. Horeland Estate was to be yours,” Nicole said. As her brother began to protest, she spoke louder. “This ignorant behemoth was addicted to gambling, drinking, and women. Of course Father wouldn’t trust him with the estate.”
“How did he die?” I asked.
Nicole leveled her gaze on me. “I killed him.”
I remembered the graveyard. Nicole, who lived an astonishing ninety years, and her cherub face — trained on another grave, simply marked “R.”
Richard.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I was in love with Ian.” She smiled fondly at the man in question. “And I was carrying his child.”
My eyes widened, and I turned to gaze at Ian in astonishment. My already strange situation had become a soap opera.
Ian gaped. “You were… It was only once!”
“It only takes once, darling.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Ian, I avenged your death those many years ago, and I vowed to keep you safe forever. It is time for Richard and I to move on. You’ve found your new life. I urge you to take it and leave this place.”
“My new life?”
Nicole smiled at me. “Ramona. She’s cycled through several lives now, but it seems she found her Eden.”
“I’m sorry, but what?” I choked. “Are you implying I’m his dead wife?”
“How did you know he murdered me?” Ian asked.
My question went unanswered as Nicole smiled wearily. “It was obvious, darling. I didn’t believe you would voluntarily leave Maggie. Though I never knew where he hid your body, I knew he had done the deed. So I pushed him down the stairs. When the fall did not kill him, a blow to the head with a fireplace poker did.”
“Your father did not call foul play?”
Nicole smiled. “No. It was simply a tragic accident. The estate became mine when Father passed in 1889. Later, it became your son’s. Joshua. Then his son, and his son, and then Jacob Horeland and his lovely bride. So in the end, the estate did become yours, Ian Clarke.”
Richard snarled, but he’d yet to move. He still stood behind Ian, his arms dangling at his sides and fire in his eyes. Maybe Nicole had some kind of mystical hold on him.
“But why was Richard a black energy?” I asked, attempting to piece together the last of what I knew.
Nicole shook her head. “Greed, jealousy, and hate are horrible emotions. They can twist even the purest of hearts into nothing more than a shadow of themselves.”
“What of my Maggie?” Ian asked.
“I raised her as my own. She married a wonderful man named Malone. They had two beautiful sons. Today, your great-great-granddaughter sits in the fireplace behind you.”
I gawked at Vespers, who was doing a fair imitation of gawking at me.
“Come, Richard,” Nicole said sweetly, holding out her hand. “It is time.”
Her brother snarled. “No. I will hold this house until it crumbles beneath me.”
“You won’t, brother.” She crossed the room in the blink of an eye, wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed.
There was a flash of light so brilliant I had to close my eyes. When I opened them, Nicole stood alone.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“The Other Side.” Nicole came forward, scooping my hands into hers. “This is what you can do for ghosts, Boston. All it takes is a pure heart and compassion.”
“I… hug them?”
She smiled. “Not quite so simple as that, but yes. You can do this. It is your calling as an Earthbound. Shades stuck on the living plane are missing their opportunity to try again. They need to cross over, so that they may be reborn.”
“Reborn to become Earthbound,” I whispered.
Nicole nodded. “Yes.”
“Is there a plane of existence after Earthbound?” I asked.
She smiled demurely. “I suppose you will have to wait and see. Good luck.”
She moved away, drawing close to Ian. “You were the only man I ever loved, even though your heart never belonged to me. I hope I find my meant-to-be in the next life.”
“You are moving on?”
She nodded. “It is time. Richard’s nonsense has continued for too long. I’ve sat beyond the veil and watched long enough. We are both on to better things.”
Ian leaned down as she kissed his cheek.
A moment later, she closed her eyes, the room filled with vibrant light, and when my eyes adjusted, Nicole Horeland was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I was grieving,” Ian said, his blue eyes downcast. “Ramona passed so suddenly, and I loved her so deeply. Nicole offered…”
“A warm body,” I suggested.
We were sitting on the front steps of Horeland Estate. I could hear Trevor and Vespers chatting through the open doors as they cleaned up in the aftermath of Nicole’s intervention. Their camaraderie was a lone ship of normality in my day. In my life.
Ian nodded. “Nicole looked so much like my wife. I never knew she birthed my son. Or that she took Richard’s life in retaliation.” He stopped speaking, his head sinking to his hands. “Everything went wrong the moment Ramona passed.”
I reached out and took his hand, offering what support I could. He’d had a lot thrown at him in a very short time. Birds sang in the forest, and a warm breeze rustled the bushes beside us. The sun was high and hot.
“Don’t you think it’s weird my sister is married to your heir, and my best friend is your great-great-granddaughter? And we’re kinda… dating?”
Ian laughed, a loud, uncontrollable belly laugh. When he quieted, he cupped my face. “We’ll come to terms with it.”
“Do you think I’m Ramona?” I asked quietly, afraid to even say it.
Ian sat up, his hands dropping away from his face as he sternly said, “No, my sweet. If you were, you are no longer. You are Boston Kane. My Boston.”
I shivered. My Boston.
He slipped his fingers into my hair and tugged me close. “I must admit to falling for your charms. The stronger it becomes, the stronger I am. We are meant to be, my sweet.”
“I’m okay with that.”
He kissed me. I would happily spend the rest of my life with his haunting kiss.
*
It was three days later, and I was wiping down the bar while Ian sampled all the bourbons we had stocked.
“This is simply fantastic,” he declared, sliding his now empty glass towards me. “What is it called?”
“Maker’s Mark,” Annabelle Brooks said, holding up the bottle. “Want more?”
“Don’t,” I warned her with a small shake of my head. “You’ll get him drunk and I’ll have to carry him home.”
My bartending partner in crime chuckled. “Aw, let the boy have fun.”
As Ian sipped his next bourbon — Wild Turkey — I took the empty Maker’s glass to the sink and dunked it beneath the bubbles, rubbing it across the brush.
Anna sidled up next to me with a beer glass, still foamy with head. “I like this guy,” she said, her voice low. “Where did you find him? Does he have a brother?”
I laughed, but felt a pang for Ian. He had a brother-in-law, someone he genuinely cared about. Someone who killed him.
“No brother,” I said, dipping the glass in the rinse water. “And the way we met… well, that’s a funny story. It would make a great novel.”
“Oh, that’s funny! Do you write?”
“Nah. Can’t spell to save my life.”
“My best friend is a ghostwriter. Her name’s Scarlett Cassell. Do you know her?”
I shook my head, taking the beer glass from her to wash it. “Ghostwriter, huh?” I grinned, glancing over my shoulder at Ian.
He was holding his glass up to the light, smacking his lips.
“May
be she and I need to have a chat.”
*
After my shift was over, and the lights were out in the bar, we parted ways with Anna and got in my Jeep.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Ian asked me, his voice gentle.
“Yes.”
“My sweet, you must understand there’s a possibility it won’t work.”
“I know.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I have to try.”
Albert Street was silent, windows dark and residents asleep. I slammed my car door, listening to the sound of a neighbor’s sprinkler running at midnight.
Geoff waved from the porch of the murder house. “Hey. Boston. I was stoked you called. You think you can do something about this place?”
I nodded, wiping my sweaty palms on my blue jeans. “We’ll see.”
Geoff unlocked the door and stepped back to let us pass. “I’ll wait out here.”
“Thanks.” I smiled to hide my nerves, and then entered the murder house.
Ian cupped my elbow. “You have a plan, my sweet?”
“The dad first,” I murmured. “So I don’t get the boy’s hopes up.”
“And you are positive the father is not an Earthbound?”
I took the stairs, absolutely sure of myself as I said, “No. He is not an Earthbound. He’s not like us. He’s just one strong ass spirit.”
The attic was still open from the night Vespers and I had come to investigate. Crazy that it was almost a week before. So much had changed in so little time.
I stood at the bottom of the ladder and closed my eyes. “What makes a man kill his family?” I said, pitching my voice into the dark cavern above me. “Desperation, I think. Maybe things had gotten hard. Did you lose your job? Were you going to lose your house? I can see where you might think death would be a solution. I also think maybe you realize now it wasn’t.”
A low growl came from the attic.
“I do not like this, Boston,” Ian said from behind me.
I shushed him. “Trust me.”
Then I climbed the ladder.
The Albert Street murderer stood at the edge of the door, exactly where he’d stood when he grabbed my arm with a force that had convinced me he was Earthbound. Tonight, his anger had deflated. He stared at me, face fallen.
His Haunting Kiss Page 12
