To Stop a Shadow (Spirit Chasers Book 2)

by Carrie Pulkinen

  “Do you have a key?”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out the front door key. “This is the only one. I doubt it will fit.” He tried the lock, but the key was too big.

  Tina pressed her ear to the door. “I wonder what’s in there.” She reached for the handle again, and a white stream of electricity, like a tiny bolt of lightning, shot into her finger. “Goddammit.” She shook her hand and placed the tip of her finger in her mouth. “Now it’s personal. There’s got to be a key around here somewhere.”

  She was willing to chalk the first shock up to static, but the second time seemed deliberate. Someone—or something—didn’t want her opening that door, and she never backed down from a challenge.

  She ran her hand along the top of the molding; some people hid keys right by the doors. No luck. She lifted the rug in the hallway. Nothing. Something may not have wanted her getting inside, but another something—equally as strong—silently called to her from the other side of the door. She had to get into the room.

  “We can call a locksmith.” Trent watched as she lifted knickknacks and vases.

  “No, no. I’ve been in enough old houses. People always leave spare keys around.” She looked behind the mirror and under the rug again. Her pulse pounded. Her hands went slick with sweat. Something drew her to that room, and she couldn’t stop until she got inside.

  “Want me to break it down?”

  She cut her gaze to Trent for only a second. Then a pewter dragon statue sitting on a small table against the wall caught her eye. She’d seen pieces like this in plenty of old houses, and the seam along the neck hinted at its purpose. “No need.”

  She marched to the dragon and ran her hand along its back. As she suspected, one of the scales was a lever that released the head. She pulled it back and found the key inside. “Eureka.” She pranced toward the door and slipped the key into the lock.

  Trent blinked. “How did you know it was in there?”

  “A gut feeling, I guess. There’s something inside that room.” She took a deep breath and slowly turned the key. And whatever that something is, it isn’t going to be good. So why on Earth did she need to see it so badly?

  She pushed open the door and took a step back, expecting a lightning bolt to shoot through the threshold like it did through the knob.

  Nothing happened.

  “Huh.” She peeked inside and looked to the right, then to the left. It was empty. A big, dark, empty room. “What the hell?” She crept inside and stood in the middle of a large, round rug that nearly covered the entire floor. Black shutters blocked the light from seeping in the windows, and she was blinded for a moment when Trent flipped on the light switch.

  Aside from a vague feeling of familiarity, the room was void of any meaning—or any furniture. She couldn’t find anything that would’ve caused the shock she’d received from the door knob. “Well, this sure isn’t what I expected.”

  The light from the single, bare bulb didn’t reach all the way to the corners of the room, leaving them cast in inky shadow. In her peripheral vision, the shadows seemed to roll, folding inward on themselves as if they were alive. But as soon as she focused on a corner, the movement stilled.

  Something about this room wasn’t right. It felt a good ten degrees colder than the rest of the house, but that could’ve been because it was closed up for so long. It seemed to grow colder the longer she stood there, and her breathing grew shallow as a feeling of dread gripped her chest. As badly as she’d needed to get into this room before, now she needed to get out. Out of this house.

  “I need some fresh air.” She brushed past Trent and trotted down the stairs and out the front door. Careful not to put too much pressure on the rotting wood, she leaned on the front porch railing and tried to catch her breath. This house had to be the creepiest place she’d ever seen. And that room… Something about that room made her shiver.

  * * *

  Tina had bolted from the house like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe she had. Trent hadn’t heard or felt anything unusual this time, but something had gotten to Tina. The way she’d been so intent on finding the key to the third-floor room. The way the color had drained from her face when she turned circles on the black rug. Her reactions to the home reignited his irrational fear that Uncle Jack still lingered inside.

  He looked around the third-floor room. The faded black walls angled inward before they met the ceiling, forming a flat-topped A shape. The air was heavy, and it almost felt like the walls were closing in. Maybe the menacing atmosphere spooked her. He sighed. “What kind of trouble do you have in store for me, Uncle Jack?”

  He made his way to the foyer and spotted Tina leaning over the front porch railing. “Hey, are you okay?” He eyed the coat rack as he stepped out the door, half-expecting it to fall on his head.

  It didn’t.

  He rubbed the space between Tina’s shoulder blades. “What happened? You jetted out of there so fast…it wasn’t a… You didn’t see a ghost, did you?”

  Tina took a deep breath and stood straight, and Trent let his hand fall to his side. “No ghost. I guess I got creeped out. You might need to do a little cleaning. Try to brighten the place up before anyone looks at it.”

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

  Tina took two steps down the stairs and turned to look at him. “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up tomorrow and give you a call then.” She descended the rest of the steps.

  Trent ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Tina?”

  She paused and turned to face him, a tiny smile curving her lips, though her eyes were still tight with worry. “Yes?”

  “It was good to see you again.”

  Her smile reached her eyes. “Yeah…it was.”

  He watched her as she loped across the snowy ground, hopping over the ice slick he’d busted his ass on earlier. What was he going to do about that woman? If he’d known working with her would rekindle the small torch he secretly held for her, he never would’ve called her.

  Or maybe that was why he called her. Deep down, he’d really wanted to see her again. Was he masochistic? Hell, he probably was. “What’s done is done.”

  He turned to pull the front door closed. With one hand on the knob, he glanced inside one more time, and his eyes widened.

  “I know that’s not where I put you, you bastard.” The coat rack had rotated ninety degrees and stood a good two feet from where he’d told it to stay. He exhaled a curse and marched inside to put the rack back in its proper place.

  “You’re trying to make me think I’m insane, but it won’t work. This house is mine. Now, your ass better stay put, or I’m going to turn you into a pile of toothpicks.”

  He marched out the door, slamming it behind him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “So, how’d it go with Tina? Did you two get it on in the living room?” Logan playfully elbowed Trent in the shoulder.

  “Hell no. We never got it on when she actually liked me.” The vibrating bass of the rock band on the small stage should’ve made it impossible for Trent to hear himself think. Add to that the three lagers he’d already downed and his mind should’ve been a blank slate. But no matter how hard he tried to forget about Tina’s supple breasts stretching her sweater tight across her chest, her full lips, and her piercing emerald eyes, he couldn’t get his mind off the woman.

  “Aw, I’m sorry, man.”

  Trent chuckled. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t give her the time of day, anyway.” And why should he? She’d slammed the door on their blooming relationship with no semblance of a reason. She’d gone from smoking hot to frigid in a matter of days…no, hours. It wasn’t a bait and switch. It was a bait and run like hell.

  He’d never been shit on like that by a woman, and he sure wasn’t going to set himself up to get flushed again. Didn’t need to. A good-looking, successful lawyer could have any woman he wanted. He made good money, worked out, and, whenever he was in a relationship, he always treated his woman with respect. He wa
s quite a catch, if he said so himself.

  So why didn’t Tina want him?

  It didn’t matter. It was guys’ night, and he planned to get shit-faced and enjoy the hell out of it.

  Logan took a sip of Coke. “How much are you asking for the place?”

  Trent shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Tina was going to research the area and get back with me today, but she never called.”

  “She will.”

  “I’m not worried about it. But when you tell someone you’re going to call the next day, you should call him. Even if you don’t have any information yet.” She could’ve at least had the decency to tell him she didn’t have time or she’d get back with him Monday. He slid his half-finished mug across the bar from his right hand to his left and back again.

  “Sounds like you may still have a chip on your shoulder, man.”

  Trent shook his head. “Nah.” He swiveled his bar stool around to face the band and pretended to jam to the music. A chip on his shoulder? The hell he did. It was common professional courtesy to call a client back when you told him you would. And all they had was a professional relationship.

  He chugged the second half of his beer and ordered a shot of Patron.

  Logan put his hand on top of the glass. “Dude, are you sure you want to do that?”

  “Positive.” And to prove it to his friend, he was going to take someone home tonight. A tanned blonde with short hair and dark brown eyes. As far from Tina as possible.

  The bartender gave him a lime, but Trent left it on the napkin. Patron didn’t need a chaser. The smooth liquid slid down his throat and warmed him from the inside out. He spotted his potential conquest, motioned for Logan to see, and slipped off his stool.

  * * *

  “I love girls’ night in as much as going out.” Tina swiped the final stroke of cherry red polish across Allison’s pinkie toe. “There’s no pressure to look good. I don’t have to hold in my stomach or constantly check my makeup in the mirror.”

  “Oh, please.” Allison fanned her wet nails with a magazine. “Your stomach is flat without an ounce of effort on your part.”

  “Says Twiggy herself.” Tina picked up her glass of chardonnay and handed the bottle of polish to her friend.

  “Hey…I run my ass off nearly every day.”

  “Literally.”

  Allison opened her mouth in feigned shock. “That’s not nice. It’s actually gotten rounder since I started running.”

  “If you say so, sweets.”

  She glared and grabbed Tina’s foot. “Just remember who’s got the bright red paint.”

  Tina giggled and sipped her wine. “So, how are things with Logan? Have you set a date yet?”

  “Not a specific one.” Her eyes gleamed. “We’re thinking of having a summer wedding. Maybe June, somewhere outdoors.”

  “That’ll be nice. Just, please…please let me go with you when you pick out the bridesmaids’ dresses. If I have to wear one more pink taffeta, 1980s prom-style gown I’m going to puke.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m leaning toward fuchsia polyester, anyway.”

  Allison had been Tina’s best friend for as long as she could remember. They’d been there for each other through disease, suicide, nervous breakdowns, and all the happy times in-between. She was the only person who knew Tina inside and out. Of course, the fact that Allison was psychic and empathic probably helped with that.

  Not only could Allison feel other people’s emotions, she could also communicate with spirits. Tina had gotten the chance to see what that entailed three months ago when she, Trent, and Logan assisted her in helping a spirit cross over to the other side.

  That was the only time Tina had ever encountered a ghost. She didn’t have a psychic bone in her body, and she was glad. She’d seen the things Allison had been through, and she wanted no part of it.

  Allison finished painting Tina’s right foot and moved on to the left. “How did it go with Trent? You never told me.”

  Crap. The dreaded moment she’d been hoping to elude had finally arrived. She’d tried her best to block him out of her thoughts all day. She hadn’t forgotten to research the home values in the neighborhood where his uncle’s house was. Or to call him. She’d flat out avoided it. He probably didn’t notice, anyway.

  “Oh, it was fine. The house is huge and in decent condition, so he’ll probably get a lot for it.”

  Allison stopped painting mid-stroke. “Uh-huh. But how did it go with him? Was it awkward? Did he ask you out? If he did, and you didn’t tell me, I’m going to stick this paintbrush up your nose.” She waved the brush in front of Tina’s face before applying the last coat on her toe.

  Tina snorted. “He didn’t ask me out, Allie. He didn’t even act interested…well, maybe a little…but he kept it all business.” She propped her feet on the coffee table and fanned them with a magazine.

  Allison grabbed the nail polish bottle and carried it to the bathroom. A thud sounded from across the room, followed by the sound of shattering glass and Allison cursing.

  Tina jumped to her feet and walked on her heels toward the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

  “Don’t come in here.” Allison sucked a breath in through her teeth. “I broke the bottle.”

  “I can help you clean it up.”

  “I cut myself.”

  “Oh.” Instantly light-headed, Tina placed her hand against the wall to steady herself. “I’ll be in the living room then.” She heel-walked back to the sofa and sat down.

  Ten minutes later, Allison emerged from the bathroom with a bandage wrapped tightly around her index finger. “Luckily, the paint didn’t splatter too far. I cleaned it up, and I’ll buy you a new bottle next time I’m at the store.”

  “Don’t worry about it. There’s, uh…no blood in the sink or anything is there?”

  Allison patted her hand. “I wouldn’t do that to you, babe. I even buried the tissue I used to clean myself up in the bottom of the trash. I’ll take it to the dumpster on my way home if you want.”

  “That’s okay.” Some strong, independent woman she was. How could she expect to be Wonder Woman when she grew up if she fainted at the sight of blood? She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Allison shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Anyway…You and Trent kept it all business?”

  “I tried to at first, but I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with him. He’s just so damn cute.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Tina, you flirt with everyone.”

  “Only the people I want to flirt with. That’s the difference. I didn’t want to do it with him, but I couldn’t help it. The only thing that stopped me from making a complete idiot of myself was the creepy house. If I hadn’t been distracted by that attic or room, or whatever it was, I might’ve asked him out myself.”

  Allison leaned forward, furrowing her brow. “What happened in the attic?”

  “Nothing. That’s what was so creepy.” Tina recounted her experience in the Victorian manor, and it seemed even more ridiculous as she spoke. “I had to get into that room, but once I was there…there was nothing.”

  Allison looked at Tina with a concerned gaze. “Are you okay? Do you think it could be something from a past life? Or a spirit?”

  Tina laughed. “I doubt it. It was probably my self-conscience trying to distract me from Trent. I’m not over him, Allie. I thought I was, but I’m not.”

  * * *

  Trent made eye contact with the blonde, and she smiled before playfully looking away. Oh, yeah. This was going to be easy. He’d prove to Logan that he was over Tina. Even better, he’d prove it to himself.

  He swaggered toward the other side of the room with a Heineken in his hand, but he stopped short when a wave of fatigue crashed into him like he’d been hit in the face with a frying pan.

  His head dropped. His jaw slacked. His knees buckled.

  Everything went black.

  Sharp pain shot through the back of Trent’s head as he tried to focus
on the people around him. He blinked, then opened his eyes wide. Logan stood in front of him and offered him a hand up. Trent accepted and rose to his feet, casting his gaze to the floor to avoid the inquisitive stares of the onlookers. His ears grew warm as embarrassment flushed through his system. How many people had seen him fall?

  “Are you sure he should be standing?” the blonde said. “I mean, he passed out. He should go to a hospital.”

  “Nah.” Logan put his arm around Trent and walked him toward the bar. “It happens all the time.”

  With his ass firmly planted in his seat, Trent rested his elbows on the bar. “How long was I out?”

  “A couple of minutes.”

  “Damn. Feels like it was all night. Aside from the headache, I feel great.” He laughed, and the pain shot to his temple. “Ow.”

  Trent was seventeen when his narcolepsy first set in. It started mild, with only a few episodes of fatigue a week. But as he reached adulthood, the symptoms worsened. By the time he reached twenty-five, the frequent bouts of sleep attacks forced him to seek medical help.

  Through trial and error, he’d finally found the drug cocktail that eliminated his symptoms. Well, almost eliminated them. He still fought the fatigue, but the sleep attacks rarely peeked their evil heads unless he was drinking or extremely emotional. Tonight, he was both.

  Logan looked at him with sympathy in his eyes. “I told you not to have that shot, man. You know alcohol makes it worse.”

  Trent rubbed the sore spot on his head. “I know, I know. But I hadn’t had an episode in years. I thought I’d be okay.”

  “That’s what you get for thinking.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Warm water trickled down Tina’s skin like rain. She took a deep breath, inhaling the freesia scent of her conditioner as she worked it through her thick hair and tried to clear her mind.

  Ever since Allison had left, Tina had been a nervous wreck trying to figure out how to work with Trent and not fall for him again. She had to get the image of his chiseled features, dark chocolate eyes, and charming smile out of her mind. She’d focus on the house. That’s why he’d called her, after all.