"I thought you told me you weren't interested in Harrison Connell."
Her brother was so predictable. "I said we were friends." She picked up the salad bowl and one of the platters before heading toward the kitchen. Nicholas followed with his own plates.
"You looked awfully cozy." He placed his burden on the counter near the sink.
Yeah, real cozy, Isabella thought. Harrison drops the—I knew your mother and I know you're a Necromancer like her—as if this was a typical conversation at a wake. She wanted to corner Harrison and question him further, but he'd slipped out before she had the chance. She glanced at her brother. She couldn't share any of this with him—at least not yet.
"Why do you care?" She deflected his question with one of her own. "What's with the overprotective brother act?"
"I'm worried about you getting too close to Harrison."
"He's nice."
"With a trail of women behind him to prove how nice he is. Do you really want to be added to the numbers? I see heartache for you if you get too cozy with him."
"Did you inherit a crystal ball I don't know about? 'Cause I didn't realize you could predict the future." She turned away and reached for a sponge. "I'll go out with whomever I want. And if it's Harrison, or someone like him, so be it." She added water to the sink. Scrubbing dishes and readying them for the dishwasher proved therapeutic on more than a few occasions, but not tonight. Nicholas hovered behind her, obviously not through with his interrogation.
"So you're going out with Harrison?"
She sighed with annoyance. Her eyelids fluttered as she said a silent prayer for control. "No, I'm not and I don't plan to, either." She looked over her shoulder. "Now will you let it go? I'd like to finish here and go home sometime tonight." Her brother stared at her a moment longer before he went back up front to clear the other tables.
She may not want to date Harrison, but she had every intention of speaking to him about Marcy. He thought she was murdered, claimed there'd been others who had died in the same fashion. She wanted to know how he came by this information. More, she wanted to know why he thought to share it with her.
Chapter Twelve
Harrison tried for two days to convince Garran he was wrong not to confide in Isabella. The vampire stood fast to his convictions. "Bloody Scotsman," he muttered under his breath as he stood guard outside the hospital room at North Shore Medical. Garran was inside the room assessing if the woman brought in two days ago was another victim of the Soul Taker. If so, the Soul Taker had broadened his hunting grounds to include Salem. Perhaps they should check Peabody's hospitals, too.
Garran walked out of the room, his expression grim. He lifted his chin with a nod toward the exit. They hurried down the corridor, trying to look inconspicuous as possible for two preternatural beings on a mission. They were outside and heading for the car before Garran spoke. "She's one of his."
"Will she survive?"
Garran shook his head.
"That makes four in Boston and one in Salem now."
"Laurie Coontz," Garran said.
"Who?"
Garran looked at Harrison. "Laurie Coontz is the woman's name. She hosts nightly ghost tours in Salem."
His eyebrows rose. "How do you know this?"
Garran held up a nametag with Ghostly Haunt's logo above the girl's name.
Harrison didn't bother asking where Garran lifted the nametag. "So the girl hosted ghost tours. What of it?"
Garran shrugged and slipped the nametag into his front pocket of his jeans. "Something to look into. We don't have anything else."
Arriving at their car, Harrison opened his door and slid in. He waited for Garran to do the same. Putting the keys in the ignition, he glanced at the digital clock on the dash. "We have enough time to take in a ghost tour and drive home before the sun rises." His head swung lazily toward him with a grin. "Are you game?"
"They might think we're one of the ghouls," Garran joked, his fangs glistening.
"Speak for yourself, Grim Sith. I charm the ladies. I don't bite unless asked." He turned the key in the ignition and the motor roared to life.
****
Johanna had phoned Isabelle this morning, excited about the shop being a great location in Salem. She had her new boyfriend to thank for finding it for her. Johanna had signed the final papers, and she wanted Isabella there to celebrate.
Nicholas nearly shoved Isabella out the door. "I can take care of the restaurant for a few nights, Izzie," he grumbled. "Please go. It'll give you a break from the customers asking you about Marcy."
She had a hunch he also wanted her away from Harrison, not that he'd been in the restaurant since the wake. "And what about you?"
He waved his hand at her." Emotions don't bombard me and weigh me down, like they do to you. Go. Have fun. Besides, I'll have a few days away this weekend when I go to the food preparation seminar in Orlando."
She didn't need any more encouragement.
A few hours later, Isabella dropped off her suitcase at the Hawthorne Hotel, located in the historic district of Salem. Johanna had rented a suite with her boyfriend and assured her it would be all right if she crashed there tonight on the sofa bed so she didn't have to go home so soon.
After freshening up, she headed over to Victorian Station to meet Johanna and her boyfriend. About time she put a face to the… She frowned, realizing Johanna had never mentioned her boyfriend's name.
The hostess at the restaurant led her outside to the patio where Johanna sat at a table facing the wharf. She wore her hair down and curled. She had donned a flattering flowered halter and a pair of white slacks.
As Isabella neared, her smile slipped from her face. Johanna's aura was off—the blue and pink were muddled with dark patches, and the yellow was nearly non-existent. Even if she couldn't see her aura, the dark circles under Johanna's eyes were a dead giveaway, screaming: I'm not feeling well.
Isabella tried to keep the concern out of her voice, but it flowed over into her words anyway. "What's wrong?"
Johanna tucked an imaginary hair behind her ear. "You never miss a thing, do you? And I caked on the makeup." She let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm a little tired. I've been having trouble sleeping, that's all. It's all the excitement. I'm a storeowner," she squealed the last. "I'm fine, really. Sit, sit, Mama Hen."
Isabella's gaze shifted to the two place settings before looking at Johanna. "I thought your boyfriend—what's his name again—was going to meet us here."
She chuckled. "He was going to meet us, but at the last moment, he was called away on business."
Isabella noticed again, she hadn't said his name, but before she could ask once more, Johanna changed the subject. She may look worn out, but she talked a mile a minute about the shop and how her boyfriend had lavished her with attention.
After dinner, they strolled over to where Johanna's soon-to-be flower shop was located. "I wish I had the keys so we could go inside, but I pick them up tomorrow."
"It's a wonderful location." Isabella had to agree.
"I know. I can't believe how fortunate I am." Johanna glanced at her watch. "It's only nine. What do you want to do?"
"I don't care. Name it."
"Well, let's see what there is to do in Salem at night. I just happen to have some flyers." She rifled through her purse, pulling out one flyer and grinning. "This might be fun." She handed it to Isabella to take a peek. The black glossy flyer sported eerie green font and photo of a man dressed in a cape and top hat.
"A ghost walk?" She laughed, thinking Johanna was joking.
"It could be fun." She looped an arm through Isabella's and started leading her toward the street. "I always wanted to go on one."
"So, have your boyfriend go with you."
"He says he's too scared to go on one. I find it difficult to believe a strapping six-foot-two man could be afraid of a few ghost stories."
"I don't know. I think I'm right there with him."
"I promise, I'll hold your
hand." Johanna's rich laugh made her smile.
"You better."
****
There were two local groups, which hosted a ghost walk, each taking a different route so not to run into each other. Garran and Harrison decided they would split up and cover them both tonight.
Harrison was stuck with the Goth-chick guide with her thick eyeliner, black lipstick, and pierced lip. She was probably twenty-two or three, a college student earning a few bucks on the side.
Harrison flirted with her as they waited for the rest of the group to show up. Goth-chick wasn't biting. He decided to try the direct approach and just ask about the latest victim. "Laurie Coontz used to give ghost tours. Did you know her?"
Goth-chick looked him up and down, a slow slide with an attitude. "Who wants to know?"
"Harrison Connell. I went to school with her. She sure got a raw deal, didn't she?"
"Yeah, the kid had a bad heart. Go figure."
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know her boyfriend, do you? The hospital said he wasn't notified. We could at least let the poor bloke know where his girlfriend is. Don't you think?"
"Can't say I knew her boyfriend. Some cherub-looking guy—if you ask me—nothing I'd look at twice. He had an accent, too."
"An accent?"
She eyed him again. "Yeah, not like yours though." She snapped her fingers. "You know, one of those other Gaelic-ky types."
Okay, he wasn't Irish, Harrison thought. "Perhaps Scottish?" he offered.
"Yep. That's it. A pretty boy, Scottish accent and..." Fear flickered in her eyes for a second as she brought Laurie's boyfriend to mind. She chewed on her lip-ring as if debating if she should say anymore.
"Laurie told me she liked him," Harrison coaxed. "But he was a little on the odd side."
Goth-chick nodded in agreement. "Yeah. There was something… I don't know… creepy about him. It wasn't anything he said or did. It was the way he looked at a person. He had a face of an angel, but the whole angelic thing didn't quite make it to his eyes." She chuckled. "You know how the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, this guy's soul had a wicked streak. If you know what I mean."
Oh, he knew all right. Goes to show, looks were deceiving. He thought Goth-chick would like the whole bad-boy persona. Mr. Soul Taker was as bad as they come. Obviously, she possessed some good sense, even though her fashion statement could be rethought. "Still, if you know where I can reach him, I'd appreciate it."
"Can't say I do. It wasn't like Laurie and I were tight. And since Laurie isn't giving tours, the guy hasn't been around lately."
"I had to ask. Thanks…" he looked down at her nametag. "Beatrice."
"Harrison, is that you?"
"Looks like your girlfriend finally showed." Beatrice nodded toward someone behind him.
He frowned, wondering which ex-girlfriend thought ghost tours were a fun way to spend the evening. He turned with a few excuses for why he was here, but when he spotted the woman in question, the excuses fled his memory. "Isabella?" Then he caught sight of Johanna beside her and his heart stopped and started again. It pounded against his ribcage as if looking for an escape. He made his way around a couple to reach them. "What brings you two lasses here?"
Isabella gave him an easy smile. "Johanna's in the process of buying a flower shop on the wharf and we thought we'd celebrate."
Isabella was pleasant enough, but he knew by the way she stared him down that she wanted to talk to him—alone. He'd outed her as being a Necromancer then didn't follow up on it. He was still working on convincing Garran they needed her on the team. Until they came to an agreement, he couldn't reveal everything they had on the case. He probably shouldn't have opened the door to her curiosity when he couldn't allow her in.
"You're celebrating by taking a ghost tour?" His brows rose and his gaze shifted to Johanna.
She chuckled nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Dinner was celebrating. This is... curiosity."
If Johanna bought a shop here in Salem, she probably wouldn't frequent the restaurant much. What did it matter? It wasn't like Johanna and he would ever have a future. She feared him. If she knew he was one of the Mac Tíre… Well, a werewolf tended to freak out most people. "That's great about the shop," he told Johanna, feeling the loss already.
"Thanks." Johanna actually smiled and met his gaze.
Isabella looped her arm through Johanna's as she spoke. "She coerced me into taking this silly ghost tour when we could be enjoying dessert. I was thinking of something sinfully rich and definitely chocolate."
"It's time to get started," Beatrice—their ghost tour guide—announced. "If you will move closer," she waved her hands in a come-hither fashion and the crowd merged forward in unison. "Please keep up with me, I'd hate to lose anyone." She pinned her gaze on Isabella.
Isabella's lips twitched. "Looks like I offended her." She lowered her voice so not to be overheard.
"I wouldn't let it bother you," Harrison leaned near to whisper. "This is all in fun. Besides, if there's real trouble brewing, I'll protect you fine lasses."
Both Isabella and Johanna chuckled, causing Beatrice to send them another annoying look before she turned and led the group forward.
Beatrice's steps halted in front of the Burying Point Cemetery. She spoke of Hawthorne's ghost walking the grounds at night in hopes of seeing his ladylove, Sophia.
"I could think of a better place to meet than in a graveyard," Isabella commented.
"It's eerie and beautiful," Johanna's gaze touched Harrison's for a brief second before looking away again.
Harrison agreed with a nod. He often had thought the same. "It has its charm: beautiful etched stones, benches to sit upon and flowers, trees and plants aplenty."
Johanna's lips slid into a sweet smile. "Exactly."
Conscious that he'd been staring at her, he cleared his throat and glanced away. He had to stop his obsession with Johanna. The woman was leaving Boston. Salem wasn't far, but his chances of running into her were slim to none. Besides, she had a boyfriend now. He frowned as he realized he hadn't met the elusive boyfriend. "How come your boyfriend didn't come with you?" Subtle had never been one of his fine attributes. He wanted Johanna to be happy, but he also wanted to know if this guy was worthy of her.
"He's away on business." Her face flushed and she looked away, the comfortable magic of their moment gone.
It seemed this was the only response he managed to drag out of her, when he'd much rather have her frustrated and hungry for him. It would only be fair since desire tended to claw at him, hot and sharp, every time he spoke with her.
Damn, he had it bad. Focus, Harrison, focus. His purpose tonight was to keep a watchful eye out for the Soul Taker, not to wonder who his life mate might be.
The night proved unusually quiet. Salem was one of the well-known preternatural cities, coming in third only to L.A. and San Francisco. The humans in these cities tended not to question odd behavior, deathlike pallor, or strange period clothing some of the preternatural donned as casual wear. Vamps were the worst offenders. They held onto their past like a lifeline to their human existence. Even Garran had his hang ups. Sure he dressed for the times, but his house stood on the hill, like a fortress with its castle-like façade and its stone interior. He may not have lived in Boston for decades, but he had the place built in the early nineteenth century during his earlier lordship over the territories here. He had other such homes in other states, too.
Next, Goth-chick Beatrice led them to the Witch Dungeon Museum, where during the day the employees reenacted the 1692 Witch trial. They adapted the script from the original transcripts to entertain the tourists. It seemed a little morbid to him, but tragic events drew people in wanting to know more.
"Harrison," Isabella whispered, grabbing his arm, "Johanna's not with us."
His gaze raked the crowd and he inhaled deeply, trying to capture Johanna's scent, but came up empty. A quick twist in his gut put him more on edge. How could she have slipped awa
y without them noticing?
He should have realized the moment she fell behind. Had the Soul Taker taken her? "Let everyone pass," he whispered to Isabella.
She nodded.
Fear radiated off of Isabella like a douse of perfume. He probably reeked of the scent himself. "Where did you last remember seeing her?" he asked as soon as the tour moved on.
"I don't— Wait. It was the cemetery. She complained the flashes from the cameras were giving her a headache."
"Let's head back there then." Harrison took hold of her hand as they headed toward the cemetery.
The moon, a sliver of itself, did nothing to give them light, but he could see better than Isabella in the shadowed darkness. Slowing his pace only made him more anxious.
As the neared the cemetery, the air chilled, not because of the weather, but as a warning of paranormal activity.
"This isn't like Johanna." Isabella's voice shook with apprehension. "She wouldn't just wander off without telling me. I'm worried, Harrison. She told me she was fine, but I know she wasn't feeling well."
Harrison was a little apprehensive himself. "We'll find her," he promised.
Isabella's gaze wavered over him and he had a hunch she was reading his aura. Interesting, her vision picked up on his essence even in the dark. "You're worried, too," she said. "Johanna isn't in danger, is she? Have women been dying of mysterious illnesses here in Salem, also?"
"Let's not jump to conclusions." Which didn't exactly answer her question.
She grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. "I want you to tell me. You questioned me two days ago about Marcy's death. You said you knew my mother." She sounded skeptical on the latter. "You accused me of being a Necromancer, but haven't been by the restaurant to explain why you would accuse me of such a thing."
So she wasn't ready to admit she was a Necromancer—to him anyway, but she didn't flat out deny the claim either. "I would have come by, but I've been in Salem."
"Why? And don't tell me you're here to take the ghost tour. You were checking things out—like you're undercover. Are you a cop, Harrison?"
He sighed. So much for keeping Isabella out of this when he put her right dab in the middle of it. He opened the door all right and she barreled right in without even an 'excuse me'.
Soul Taker Page 6
