Ghost Walk

by Cassandra Gannon

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive. Put your hand where mine is.”

  Grace was too far gone to even hesitate. Her palm slid down to cover the spot he was touching, pressing deep. “Oh God.” Her lips parted, her head going back in ecstasy.

  “Fuck yes.” It was little more than a snarl. “So wet and pink and soft.” He watched her hand move with a rapturous expression. “Harder, Grace. Deeper.”

  “I can’t…”

  “You can.” He interrupted. “I want it all, Grace. Give it to me. That’s it.” He let out a groan of pure pleasure as she did what he demanded, her back arching to accept the more powerful thrusts of her fingers. “That’s it, my love.”

  “Jamie!”

  “I’m here. Christ, I would never want to be anywhere else.” He gave a laugh that sounded like he was in pain. “See what having a bit of optimism can do? That’s a lesson for both of us.”

  “I’ve never gotten this far before. I didn’t expect it to be so… tight. I feel really, really tight.” Her words ended in a whimper that just seemed to enflame him.

  He watched her intently, like he was committing every freckle on her skin to memory. “I need you so much, Grace.” His voice was unsteady and darker than she’d ever heard it. “I know you donea need me. Not really. I know you deserve more than a dead man in your life and bed. But, I’m going to make you come so hard you won’t even think of another partner, again.”

  She wanted to respond to that, but she was too far gone. All she could was gasp as he touched some magical spot with his incorporeal fingers and her body reacted like he’d stroked the very core of her with liquid heat. “Jamieeee!”

  He dipped his head to her ear. “Come for me, lass. I need to see it. Come now and I’ll keep you safe.”

  That was all it took. Grace screamed as she convulsed against both their hands. The explosion shook her whole body, her knuckles going white around the headboard rail. Her body shattering into a million pieces and Jamie drank in every tremor. A satisfied smile curved his mouth, like he was the one who’d reached completion. She chanted his name and he whispered endearments in Gaelic and, for a timeless moment, it was all… perfect.

  Exactly the way she’d always know it was supposed to be between Partners.

  Grace lay there, struggling for breath. “Wow.” Unrealistic expectations, be damned. If anything she’d underestimated Jamie’s abilities. “You really just did that.” She panted.

  “We did that.” He settled down next to her, looking smug. “Take your share of the credit, lass. You are bloody amazing at this.”

  She blinked up at him, owlishly. “Thank you.”

  “Oh believe me, it was my extreme pleasure.” He smoothed a hand over her hair. “I will keep you safe.” He repeated in a more serious tone and she knew he wasn’t just talking about in bed. “I promise you.”

  “I know.” She smiled, more replete than she’d ever been. “I’ll keep you safe, too. Which means going back to 1789 and fixing what went wrong.” She needed to make sure he knew that, because she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter how many orgasms he gave her.

  And hopefully it would be a lot.

  Jamie gazed at her, patriot blue eyes roaming all over her face. She could see him searching for a way to talk her out of more time travel.

  “You can’t talk me out of it.” She assured him before he ruined the mood. There was no way she was going to let his name be slandered throughout history. Jamie deserved so much more. She couldn’t save the whole world, but she could save Jamie Riordan. “You’re the one telling me to be more positive. Well, I’m positive I can find a way to prove your innocence.”

  “I donea think it’s a good idea to…”

  “Help me do this, Jamie. I need to do this.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut at the entreaty. “This would be far easier if you were a timid lass.” He muttered.

  “Maybe.” She arched a brow, knowing she’d won. “But, then again, a timid lass wouldn’t have just taken off her panties for a pirate.”

  Chapter Ten

  June 25, 1789- My parents hate me! I should be used to it by now. They see me as an embarrassment and a disgrace to their precious name. All they care about is their standing in the community. To them, I am nothing but a pretty package they can sell off to a suitor of their choosing. They don’t care a fig about what I want or think or need! They look at me with cold disapproval and even colder hearts.

  I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have a loving family.

  From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

  “So you’ve been time traveling with a ghost.” Serenity summed up the next day, after Grace was done explaining everything to her. “Does this mean you aren’t going to help me get ready for the 4th of July sale?”

  Jamie’s eyebrows soared at such a blasé response to such unbelievably weird news.

  Grace didn’t seem surprised, at all. “I knew you were going to start nagging about that stupid sale.” She pushed her way through some beaded curtains, shaking her head. “How inconsiderate of me not to focus on what’s really important, right?”

  “My sale is important. Do you have any idea how bad business is for us, Gracie?”

  “I’m the only Rivera in ten generations to try to organize the accounts around here, so… yeah. I’ve got a pretty good idea. Have you been looking at the bookkeeping software I set up?”

  Serenity sniffed. “I’ve no time for all that numbers bullshit.” She was a tall, curvy woman with red hair and a turban that matched her flowing hippie-ish robes. “I’ve got to compete with that phony palm reader down the street, who has a fucking Facebook page.” Her eyes narrowed in determination. “I’m thinking of offering a BOGO on live frogs. Let’s see Madam Topanga top that.”

  “Oh for God’s sake, would you forget your war with Madam Topanga? I’ll help you generate some new business plans later. Not that you’ll listen to them…”

  “Running a magic shop isn’t about ‘business plans.’ It’s about helping people find true love, smite their enemies, and occasionally become trolls.” Serenity gave a mournful pause. “God, I wish we could find that recipe.”

  Grace sent her aunt an exasperated look. “I just need you to focus and help me. Please? It’s an emergency.”

  Jamie followed her through the shop, his eyes darting around every dusty nook and cranny. Offhand, he didn’t recalled entering The Crystal Ball since the ‘20s, but it looked pretty much the same. …Just as it had looked pretty much the same for the century before that. The Riveras clearly didn’t care much about creating an inviting shopping experience. The dim interior held the same wooden cabinets and shelves, filled with the same morbid knickknacks and bottles of strange liquids. At some point, one of them had added a few strings of skeleton-shaped twinkle lights and a mirror that seemed to somehow be reflecting the wrong image.

  Jamie cringed. Even for a ghost, that was a bit creepy. No wonder this family was always broke, if this is how they welcomed their customers.

  Grace took it all in stride. “We need some magic, Auntie.” She called, heading for a listing bookcase. “A time travel potion. Is there such a thing?”

  “Easier if we used a spell.”

  “I don’t like spells. You know that. Potions at least have the façade of chemistry and herbal medicine to hold onto. Spells are messy and they always go wrong.”

  Serenity rolled her eyes. “Well, a potion could take a while.” She warned. “No one in the family has been able to time travel, since your great uncle Recompense went back to the Crusades.”

  “Other Riveras have time traveled and you’re just mentioning it now?!”

  “Like you would have listened before.” Serenity scoffed. “You were too busy convincing yourself you were bonkers, until the ghost showed up and talked some sense into you.”

  No one had ever called Jamie sensible before. He shot Grace a smug look, which she pointedly ignored. She was too bu
sy muttering about cornfields again.

  “Point is, time travel is a bit of a recessive talent.” Serenity continued. “Not much research on the herbs we’ll need. It’ll take some real innovation on my part.”

  “Blue eyes are recessive, too. But could I get them? Noooooo.” Grace shook her head in adorable vexation.

  “I’m quite fond of your eyes just the way they are.” Jamie assured her. The chocolatey color was sexy as hell. Especially when they were glazed with passion and Grace was begging him for release.

  God, last night had been perfect. Ghosts couldn’t come, but Jamie had still been fully satisfied. The way she’d let him touch her, and the sound of his name on her tongue, and her startled joy when she climaxed for the first time… Nothing had ever made him prouder. It made sense to him now why some people thought sex was so important. It had always just been a bit of a lark to him before, but not with Grace. She made it feel like something holy. Every moment of his time with her was imprinted on his memory forever.

  Grace looked up at him and gave a reluctant smile. “If you’re flirting with me even in this getup, you must really want to see me naked again.” She whispered.

  “Oh lass, you have no idea.”

  Grace was due back at her tour guide job that afternoon, so she was wearing her Colonial garb. The ridiculous yellow costume was only slight more authentic than her Keds, but it was still remarkably appealing on her. And Jamie heartily approved of the low neckline. He couldn’t wait to see her out of it.

  Serenity strolled into the backroom after them, reluctantly interested in a time travel challenge. “I suppose we’ll need to update the family Christmas letter, if you’re going to start vacationing in the Revolutionary War. Not much in the way of usefulness, but at least you’re finally using your powers. Grandma Verity will be pleased.”

  “A dream come true.”

  Serenity ignored Grace’s bad attitude and snapped her fingers in excitement, like an idea suddenly occurred to her. “Unless you plan on looking for the lost recipe for troll powder while you’re back there!” She pressed her palms together in a quick, silent prayer to some no-doubt scary deity. “The recipe wasn’t forgotten until your Great-Aunt Honor died in that sideshow, back in 1899. Rediscovering it could change everything for us.”

  “For the last time, nobody wants to become a troll!”

  “Troll powder?” Jamie repeated looking between them. “Is that really a thing?”

  Grace waved a “don’t even ask” palm at him. “And this is not a vacation.” She assured her aunt and grabbed an ancient tomb on Harrisonburg history, opening it on an ebony table with carved skulls on the top. “I’m being sent back for an important purpose. I know it.”

  “Troll powder is important. It could help me shut Madam Topanga up, once and for all.”

  “An important purpose as in saving someone’s life, Auntie.”

  Serenity gave a long-suffering sigh. “Well, that is usually the reason that this time-traveling power manifests.” She admitted in the superior tone of someone who was always eager to impart her wisdom… whether her audience wanted to hear it or not. “Laws of nature aren’t usually bent just for the hell of it. Only when something’s gone wrong and the Higher Powers want it fixed.” She paused. “Well, there was the one time with Cousin Memory’s thirtieth reunion and the tornado, but I still say that was mostly the leprechaun curse.”

  “You always think it’s a leprechaun curse.” Grace muttered under her breath.

  Serenity had ears like a vampire bat. “When you’re cursed by a leprechaun, it tends to ruin your social life. That’s all I’m saying. Cousin Memory should never have taken his gold and bought that jet ski.”

  “Taking a man’s gold is a terrible thing.” Jamie put in, although no one had asked his opinion. “I shall never get over the loss of mine.”

  Grace rolled her eyes.

  Serenity kept going. “I told Memory it was a bad idea to follow that damn rainbow, but she didn’t listen.” She pointed a three inch long red finger nail at Grace. “It’s a lesson for you, young lady. Psychics give the best advice. If you don’t listen to me, one day you’ll end up with a shamrock-green cyclone sucking up your high school.”

  Grace dutifully nodded.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Jamie was beginning to see why she was so keen on being safe and normal. The girl had grown up in a home where every day was Halloween.

  “Now then, as I was saying, usually time travelers are chosen to right some wrong.” Serenity continued. “Recompense was supposed to save some serfs from a fire, if I remember correctly. Jackass wouldn’t stop bragging about it. He always was a bit of a tool.”

  “I’m supposed to catch this murderer and clear Jamie’s name. I know it. To do that, I need to go back to the nights Anabel Maxwell and Clara Vance died and save them.”

  Serenity pursed her lips, disapprovingly. “Wasn’t Clara Vance some Puritanical bitch, who burned witches for fun?”

  “There were no witch burnings in Harrisonburg! Why do people keep saying that? I don’t think anyone was executed as a witch in this country since --like-- Salem, a hundred years earlier. The Colonial era was the age of Enlightenment, for God’s sake.”

  Serenity frowned, unconvinced. “Some of our ancestors were witches, you know. It’s a noble profession. Cousin Mercy used her powers to cure Methyn’s Syndrome.”

  “I’ve never even heard of Methyn’s Syndrome.”

  “That’s because Mercy cured it.” Serenity explained smugly.

  Grace made an irritated sound and ran a hand through her shiny, dark, beautiful hair.

  Jamie nearly groaned as the strands slid through her fingers. He wanted to feel the thick curls so badly it was a physical ache. And ghosts didn’t have physical aches. He’d endured two hundred plus years of not being able to touch anything and came through it all without breaking. …But not being able to touch Grace was going to break him. He could already tell.

  Grace didn’t notice his torment. “The problem is, we don’t have a lot of information on the last two murders. Gregory Maxwell’s book skimps on some of the details.”

  “I cannot believe you think that idiot is an author.” Jamie muttered, trying to focus on anything beside his unsatiated need for her. “He was confused by water being wet and trees being green. I promise you, he didn’t write Horror in Harrisonburg any more than I did.”

  “Well whoever wrote it, they should’ve given us more specifics.” Grace looked at her aunt. “Anabel Maxwell dies next, but saving her would be a lot easier if I found a way to remind the Jamie-of-the-past about things that haven’t happened yet.”

  Serenity squinted. “Come again?”

  “We need to make sure the Jamie-of-the-past knows what this Jamie knows. They’re the same person, after all. There has to be a way for both of them to remember the same things.” Grace waved a hand. “Otherwise he’s going to think I’m a raving nut job when I try to explain it to him back there. Can you make a potion?”

  “I’ll know you, Grace.” Jamie assured her quietly. “Donea worry about that. Even without the memories, I’ll always know you.” This woman was his. Alive or dead, every instinct told him so. The old him would be far more interested in bedding her than in having her committed. “Speaking of which, if you do go back again, would you do me a great favor?”

  She looked up at him and nodded seriously. “Of course.”

  “Submit every sordid, twisted, wicked thing I want to do to your body.” He endeavored to look grave. “I would dearly love those memories, lass.”

  Grace blinked and then burst out laughing.

  Jamie grinned at the happy sound, adoring her.

  “I can make a potion for anything.” Serenity interjected, not liking to be left out of the joke. Her brown eyes unerringly landed on Jamie, even though she couldn’t see him. “Even for memory/time travel shit. But, are you sure the ghost is worth all this effort, Gracie?”

  Jamie glared back at the woman
, even though she was probably right.

  “I’m sure.” Grace flipped through the yellowed pages of the book. “Darn it, I know that page is in here somewhere. Isn’t there an index to this frigging thing?”

  Serenity wasn’t giving up. “Because you really need to be sure. Your cousin Prudence dated a ghost for a while. …Until he dumped her for a zombie.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Said Pru couldn’t fit in with the ‘undead culture’ and made himself invisible to her, so she couldn’t see him lurking about… probably watching her do God-only-knows what. That’s the way it is with all of them. Snobby perverts.”

  “I’ve never even met a zombie.” Jamie put in, just in case Grace was listening to this madness. “And I can make you a solemn promise I’ve no interest in their drooling, shambling, inarticulate culture. Or in making it so you can’t see me.” Lord, that would be the last thing he’d want.

  Serenity snorted, as if she sensed his denials. “These things rarely work out, Gracie. That’s all I’m saying. Supernatural beings are just dead-ends, when it comes to relationships.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You should just forget about this pirate guy. Especially with your Partner looming on the horizon.”

  Jamie’s teeth ground together. Just the mention of Grace’s mysterious “partner” pissed him off. No other man should have a claim on her. Ever. The woman had been given to him. She’d slept trustingly beside him all night, and came apart in his hands, and gave his whole unlife meaning. He was never, ever, ever going to part with her, no matter what kind of “husband material” jackass thought to steal her away. Dead or not, Jamie would find a way to kill the son of a bitch the minute he showed his normal, pleasant, fucking alive face.

  Maybe she deserved more than just a ghost, but no pirate parted with his ill-gotten treasure. Not without one hell of a fight.

  “You need to be on the lookout for your Partner,” Serenity continued, “not wasting your time on…”

  Grace cut her off. “Auntie,” she met Serenity’s eyes. “I’m sure.” Her voice was full of some deeper meaning that Jamie didn’t understand.