JanesPrize

by Margrett Dawson

  Obediently she moved so her hands could reach her clit, and he watched as she rubbed and stroked.

  “Now I’m coming in.” He placed the head of his penis against her asshole, working it in gently until it slipped past the tight muscles. He heard her gasp as she took him inside her. He stilled, waiting for her, afraid more movement would bring him to climax.

  “Aah,” she murmured. “So full, so full. More.” She began to move again, urging him further in.

  He entered her bit by bit until he was buried as deep as he could go. Her breath came in gasps. Her hands were still on her pussy, moving and fingering her clit.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Perfect. Just fuck me.”

  Her fingers moved faster on her clit and she squeezed her ass muscles, pulling him even tighter against her.

  “My God, yes,” she screamed. In a blinding moment of intense erotic pleasure he thrust harder and deeper as she tensed and lifted her head. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she panted. She let out a deep moan and then a howl as she came.

  Pierce held on to her hips, pushing into her as hard as he could. When he could hold back no longer he threw back his head and yelled in pleasure as he released.

  After a long moment of hanging lifeless against her back he withdrew and slid alongside her.

  She rolled on to her side and faced him. He pushed back her damp hair from her face.

  “All right?”

  “Absolutely. Do you think the neighbors heard us?”

  “Who cares?” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. His heart felt as if it would explode with an emotion he would never be able to express. She had given herself completely, made herself vulnerable. He had to let her know he understood the value of her gift. “I love you.”

  Words were so inadequate.

  Chapter Twenty

  There was no denying their relationship had undergone a subtle change. Yes, the sex was as hot as ever but it had lost the underlying sense of raw need and was now permeated with a mutual aura of comfort and companionship. Facing uncertainty and possible danger together had forged new bonds.

  After Pierce’s declaration, they slept for a while then Jane made some sandwiches, but neither of them had much appetite.

  “Want to watch a horror movie?” Pierce asked as he loaded the dishwasher. He was still fascinated by modern machines and always wanted to be the one to use them. That suited Jane fine. “I think I can get that new Stephen King.”

  “I don’t think so, thanks.” She yawned. “Don’t you think we’re in a horror story of our own?”

  “I suppose.” He clicked the door shut and turned the knob to start the cycle.

  Jane stashed the bread then wiped the countertop. She moved in a dream, as if these mundane tasks were performed by another person, disconnected from reality. It made no sense to be calmly preparing the bread for a ham sandwich while a murderess was out there waiting to bring her dead son back to life.

  “Maybe. I guess I am pretty bushed,” Pierce said and put his arms ‘round her. “You wore me out. Let’s go back to bed.”

  Jane kissed his cheek. “I’ll just try Selma again.” She picked up the phone but received the same message. “Maybe she’s away on a speaking engagement.”

  Pierce shrugged. Jane knew he didn’t really agree with contacting Selma but he hadn’t been able to come up with an alternate plan.

  They threw out the newspapers and switched off the lights in the living room.

  Jane hung her clothes on the repaired rail of the bedroom closet and slid naked between the sheets. When Pierce joined her he grunted in pleasure at the feel of her bare skin. Without a word she kissed him and snuggled close. “We should sleep. Who knows what we’ll have to do tomorrow?”

  “Right.”

  He never had any trouble falling asleep and she felt his muscles relax as he drifted off. Could all men do that? Sleep anywhere at anytime? She had no idea and it didn’t matter, anyway. She was grasping at any random thought to keep her mind from the next meeting with Maria. She didn’t know what to do about that, either.

  Sighing, she inched away from him, lying on her back. She stayed there for a long time, staring at the faint glow of the streetlight outside the window.

  Pierce shifted, murmuring in his sleep. The luminous hands of the clock crept to midnight, then one, then two a.m.

  At precisely five minutes after two the phone rang. Jane grabbed the receiver before the second ring and pressed it to her ear.

  “Yes?” she breathed.

  “It’s Selma.”

  “Wait one minute.” Jane slid from the bed and seized a robe from a hook behind the door. Struggling to insert her arms in the folds while juggling the cordless phone and opening the door, she managed at last to make her way back to the living room without waking Pierce.

  She cradled the receiver under her ear while she tied the robe. “Thanks for calling. I was hoping you would.”

  “I saw your number on my machine. You called twice. But no message.”

  “No, I wasn’t sure how to put it in twenty words or less.” She paced the room as she talked.

  “Tell me.”

  Jane explained about Maria, about little Stan, about the request to retrieve him from the house and bring him back into the world.

  “She got to you, didn’t she?” Selma’s tone was sympathetic.

  “I guess she did. I kept thinking about the little boy, with no mother. The mother who’d lost her child.”

  “What does Pierce say?”

  “He doesn’t trust her. She wanted to come to the apartment but he pulled me away.”

  “She asked to come inside with you?”

  “Yes. I didn’t see why not—”

  “Never let her near anything that belongs to you. Don’t let her touch you or know where you live.” Selma’s voice took on a sharp, anxious note.

  Jane’s stomach clenched. “She already knows where we live. She was on the street outside the apartment building yesterday.”

  “That’s too bad. Keep her out of the building. Pierce is absolutely right.”

  “What?”

  “People don’t change just because they’re dead. If Pierce knew her as a liar and says she’s not to be trusted then you need to be very careful. There may be no little boy hiding in the cupboard.”

  “But what could she do?”

  Selma gave a short laugh. “What couldn’t she do? She could drag Pierce back with her, she could kill him again and remain here. She could even kill you if her power is strong enough and she had the right opportunity. Is there money involved?”

  “Yes, a lot of money. Pierce is set to inherit the entire estate. But surely Maria can’t inherit?”

  “Did you find ways to make Pierce appear legitimate?”

  “Yes.” Jane’s heart sank lower. Had she been that naïve in believing Maria’s story?

  “What does Pierce want to do?”

  “He wants to send her back. After talking to you I think he might be right but we don’t know how.”

  “There’s no magic spell, if that’s what you’re hoping. You’ll have to get her back to the house where she died and did her haunting.”

  “Okay.”

  “But never leave her alone with Pierce. If possible, get someone else to take her.”

  “I’ll try. Then what do we do?”

  “You have to kill her again.”

  Jane felt her heart skip a beat. “You really mean that?”

  “Of course I do. It’s not a crime. She’s dead.”

  “I don’t know if I could do that. Or if Pierce could do it.”

  “Believe me, if it’s your life or Pierce’s life against hers you’ll do it.”

  Jane pictured Selma in her living room with all the lights blazing. She remembered what Pierce had said about the long darkness of his existence after Maria murdered him. She shuddered.

  “I’ll have to think about it.”


  “I’ll do some research too and try to find out what might work best. I don’t know if a weapon would be any good. Call me back tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Good girl. I’ll talk to you again.”

  Jane clicked off the phone with cold fingers. She pulled her robe tighter around her. She had hoped there would be some kind of incantation, some magic formula for sending Maria back but it obviously wouldn’t be simple. She thought of the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz. It was simple water that had melted her. And Superman could be overcome by kryptonite…

  Selma had said to send Maria to the house with someone else. Who? If she was dangerous she would pose a threat to anyone who knew Pierce or had any concern for him. Could ghosts take hostages?

  It hadn’t sounded as if Selma gave much credence to the story about the boy. If she was right then Maria’s target was still Pierce, just as it had been all those years ago. Jane still felt cold, despite the warm night air. She fetched a blanket from the bedroom and sat in the big armchair close to the window. Wrapping herself in the soft folds she began to think and plan.

  She woke with a start when Pierce touched her shoulder. Daylight edged the curtains at the living room window. She blinked and sat up, throwing off the blanket. “I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?”

  Pierce crouched beside her. “Six-thirty. Why did you come out here?”

  She stretched out her back, arms extended. “God, I’m stiff. Selma phoned while you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” She told him what she’d heard from the late night call, detailing Selma’s endorsement of his mistrust. “I think you’re right. We should try to send her back.”

  “Did she say how to do that?”

  Jane hesitated. “Not in so many words. We’ll have to think about it.” She stood and folded the blanket, avoiding his gaze. “Do you have plans for today?”

  At that instant the phone rang. She seized it, thinking it might be Selma again. “Just one moment,” she said, then handed him the receiver. “It’s your cousin.”

  “Alex, how are you?” Pierce paced to the window as he spoke briefly into the phone.

  He clicked the receiver off and turned to her. “Alex is an early riser. He never even apologized for phoning at the crack of dawn.” He smiled. “He’s sending a car for me at nine. He wants me to go through some old documents with him. Do you mind if I leave you alone for a few hours?”

  “Of course not. I have a few things to catch up on too. I might be able to see Annice for lunch. Lots of girl talk. You wouldn’t be interested anyway.”

  “I guess not.” He hesitated. “We’ll talk about Maria when I come home.”

  “Of course.”

  Jane stood at the window long after the car had left with Pierce comfortably ensconced inside. She had no idea how she had refrained from spilling the whole story to him but somehow she had kept to herself the final details of Selma’s advice. Selma had said to keep Pierce away from Maria for his own safety and that was exactly what she would do. This was a heaven sent opportunity to arrange to meet Maria at the house. Somehow she’d dispatch the wicked stepmother back to the underworld of the dead and no one would ever know.

  Had Selma had enough time to find more information? Unable to contain her impatience any longer, Jane dialed the number.

  Selma picked up on the first ring. “Good morning. I was about to call you.”

  “Did you find out anything new?”

  “Not much new, but a confirmation of what I had already heard. First of all, we revenants—”

  “What’s that?”

  “Revenant is a French word for ghost. It means ‘one who comes back’. It’s quite appropriate.”

  “True.”

  “As I was saying, revenants usually die from disease or old age, just as they would in their first life. They can also die by drowning or serious accident. They can be suffocated.”

  Jane shuddered. “Go on.”

  “Guns and knives don’t always work. There’s something about the consistency of our flesh, especially soon after we come over. It sort of solidifies over the months and years, so in the early stages a bullet might go right through with no damage. Maria is still in that stage.”

  “She is. Anyway, I don’t have a gun.”

  “Of course not. I didn’t imagine you would have.” Jane heard Selma sigh. “You’re going to have to think of a way to get rid of her that is feasible for you. Just remember that you can’t hold her, that will only strengthen her. So suffocating would have to be with a plastic bag or some such.”

  A cold shiver ran down Jane’s spine. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

  “I know. But remember, she’s dead.”

  “Yes. I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll find something.”

  “Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”

  Jane hung up the phone, lost in thought. All kinds of scenarios had floated through her mind during the long cold hours of the night. She had imagined finding a gun, stabbing Maria in the heart or in the back. But nothing had seemed feasible, as Selma warned. Something would come to her, she was sure.

  But first she had to find Maria. That shouldn’t prove too difficult. She showered and dressed quickly then swallowed a bowl of cereal, hoping it would calm her queasy stomach. When she closed the apartment door behind her she still felt shaky at what lay ahead but she lifted her chin and strode out with confidence.

  It was a lovely morning, the sun and trees forming a contrast to the dark thoughts in her mind. Sure enough Maria was waiting in the park. The sunlight dappled the bench she was sitting on, sending shimmering highlights dancing over her blonde hair. Today she was in oyster silk. Where did she get the clothes?

  When she caught sight of Jane she rose quickly to her feet.

  “My dear Jane,” she said, seizing her hands between her palms. “I knew you would come. I knew you would rescue my little Stan. “

  “Let’s sit down a minute.” Jane steered the other woman back to the bench. “I’ve been thinking about what we should do.”

  Maria nodded eagerly.

  “I have to meet a friend of mine for lunch. But then I’ll be free. I’d like you to take a taxi out to the Mansion.”

  “I’ll go with Pierce.”

  “No, Pierce had to keep an important engagement, but he would be happy for you to go and meet me there.”

  Maria’s face showed her disappointment. “But Pierce has to be there.”

  “Why?” Jane softened her sharp tone. “Pierce can’t make it and I know you want to find Stan as soon as possible. We can bring Stan out, just the two of us, then we’ll come back to meet Pierce. He will be so happy to see his little brother after all this time.”

  Maria sighed. “Of course I want my boy. And I need you to do it for me, Jane. I don’t have the power to bring someone over. It has to be a human who has never died.”

  “That’s why we don’t need Pierce,” Jane said briskly and stood. “I’ll meet you at the Newland house after lunch.” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts to hide their shaking. She had no idea what she would be walking into but she had to keep in mind that this was how she could save Pierce. That thought would keep her strong.

  Turning on her heel, she left Maria still sitting on the bench. It was already nearly ten and she had things to do.

  Back in the apartment she found the number of the lawyer who had set all this in motion by offering her the contract to spend two nights in the Newland Mansion. Abigail answered the phone.

  “Of course I remember you, dear,” she said. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Jane hurried on to avoid any more questions. “Do you still have a key to the Newland Mansion?”

  “Yes, we do. Why?”

  Jane breathed a sigh of relief. First hurdle. “I was wondering if I could borrow it again. Just for a few hours.”

  “Whatever for?”

  �
�My mother is very fond of antique furniture and there is so much wonderful stuff in the house—”

  “I couldn’t let you take anyone else in there.”

  “No, of course not.” Encouraged by the absence of an outright refusal, Jane plowed on. “I remember some wonderful painted urns in the living room. I’d like to go in and take a couple of pictures. I think I have found something very similar in an antique shop and I want to be able to compare. For authenticity, you know.” To her own ears the story sounded barely plausible.

  “You’d have to sign for it.”

  Did that mean she would pass the key over? “I’ll sign whatever you like. And I’ll be very careful.”

  “I know you will, dear. Is this a gift for your mother?”

  “What?”

  “The urn you’ve found.”

  “Yes, that’s right. She would just love it.” Jane’s mother hated everything “old-fashioned” as she called it and would not give a thank you for a gilded urn, however valuable. Jane had never realized she could be such an accomplished liar. But then, someone’s life had never depended on her lies before.

  “That’s very nice, dear. When would you like to pick up the key?”

  No time like the present, before anyone could have second thoughts, herself included. “I’ll be right over.”

  After she picked up the key and extricated herself from Abigail’s chatter, she ran into Pete Burrard on the street. He was in uniform and looking very handsome. He greeted her with a tip of his hat. “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Pretty good. And you?”

  “Fine, fine. They looked at each other for a moment then both began to speak at the same instant.

  Pete grinned. “You first.”

  “I met someone who knows you. She’s new in town. Her name’s Maria something.”

  Pete frowned. “Can’t place the name.”

  “She’s petite, very blonde, always looks as if she’d stepped off a catwalk.”

  “Then I’d certainly remember her. Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “I must have misunderstood her.” She glanced at her watch. “Got to run. Pete. Nice talking to you.”