Gop’s words trailed off when a tall, dark-haired man strode through the forest in their direction. Not slowing in the least as he headed toward the car, the stranger’s eyes darted between them before landing on Cullen. He wasted no time introducing himself. “Hey, I’m Seth. Investigator and co-owner of the Worldwide Paranormal Society.” He held out a hand and arched his brows. “I hope to Christ you’re Cullen Stewart.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Cullen said without thinking. Some habits died hard. He shook Seth’s hand. “Yeah, I’m Cullen.”
“Not gonna be easy remembering you used to work for the big guy.” Seth shook his head and popped the trunk. “Bear with me. After all, like you, I’m a warlock too.” He gestured at Cullen. “Wanna grab some equipment?” Then his eyes went to Gop. “You too. Put all that height and strength to good use.”
“No can do,” Gop complained. “Though it’s your present it’s Cullen’s past. Regrettably, that means I’m not even a foot tall.”
“Weird how that works.” Seth shrugged before he tossed Gop a small box. “You can carry that then.”
Cullen wasn’t budging. “I’m not going anywhere or helping with anything until I get some answers.”
“Just help me out, man. I’ve got a haunted tourist attraction with your name written all over it.” Seth pulled out some black duffel bags and a few cameras before he looked at Cullen. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know as soon as we get to the lodge.”
Cullen considered Seth for a long moment. The guy might not be overly persuasive, but the growing sense that he was needed persisted. He glanced at Gop. “My bike?”
“Safe. Parked at the lodge.” The ghost nodded through the woods. “Not a scratch on it.”
At least his bike wasn’t wrecked. Hard to believe. But anything was possible when it came to Gop and his tricks. “And the lass you spoke of?”
“Soon to be discovered.”
Believing this ghost was equivalent to believing he had been born yesterday. Yet, something pulled at him. An old but achingly familiar yearning lost for far too long. Could it be her? If so, how was that possible?
When bells started jingling in the distance, Seth nodded at the trunk. “We’ve gotta go set up before this place opens. Grab what’s left. It’ll be worth your while.”
Only one thing, or one woman, would be worth his while. For that reason alone, Cullen grabbed the remaining equipment and followed. Snow crunched under his boots as a cloud blocked the sun and shadows skirted around him. For a split second, he sensed something or someone watching him. Something dark and brooding. Something far too curious. Whatever it was vanished when the sun came out again. He almost mentioned it but figured he would wait until he knew more.
Cullen stopped short at the woodline. His eyes locked on his unscathed bike before he took in everything else. It reminded him of a Norman Rockwell painting. A mammoth building back-dropped by snow covered pines and several more cottages oversaw both a horse-drawn carriage and sleigh. I’ll Be Home For Christmas played softly from unseen speakers. A large, hand-carved wooden sign hung over the door.
Realm of Christmas Magic.
“Welcome to the largest holiday attraction in New England,” Seth said.
Gop handed Cullen the small box. “Go on, hit play.”
When he frowned, Seth said, “It’s a digital voice recorder. We use them a lot when we’re ghost hunting.” He nodded at the device. “Hit play. There’s something on there you’re gonna want to hear.” Then he nodded at the lodge. “Something I recorded from inside that building.”
Gop arched a brow and nodded as well, the look on his face far too smug.
“Fine,” Cullen muttered and hit play. At first there were only garbled sounds then words came through loud and clear. Female words with a thick Scottish burr.
“Cullen Stewart, if ye dinnae get yer bloody arse here and save me, I’m cursed for all eternity.”
Chapter Two
“MAYBE I SHOULD have taken it easy on the accent,” Treasa murmured as she stared out the window. “Just look at him.” She swallowed hard, cursing her emotions. “Still so damn sexy.”
Never was there a better looking Scotsman. Six-foot-five inches worth of black-haired, blue-eyed muscular perfection. Yet his good looks were not the reason she blinked away the threat of irritating tears. It was their history.
“I really do look so sexy.”
Treasa glanced at the Ghost of Christmas Present and balked. Dressed in a kilt, tunic, and tall black boots, ‘it’ looked just like Cullen Stewart. Her heart caught in her throat. “Absolutely not. Stop looking like him right now.”
Without any known sex, it shrugged. “I can only manifest as what ye truly want for Christmas, lass.”
“But a second ago you looked like a two-foot tall elf.”
“Aye, yer tastes have become a wee bit alarming…”
“You shift into an elf every chance you get,” Treasa interrupted. “Lose the accent too, Ghost.”
“I told you years ago to call me BFF,” Ghost whined. “It’s a popular term nowadays and am I not your best friend forever?”
“You’re the only consistent friend I’ve had for years,” Treasa acknowledged. “I’m not sure that makes us best friends.” When she saw the crestfallen look on Ghost’s face, she shook her head. “Sure, okay, BFF.”
She gazed out the window at Cullen, trying to imagine anything else she might want for Christmas besides him. “I know who the ghost hunter is but who’s the sad teenage girl in the long dress?”
“You don’t recognize her then?”
“Obviously not.” But something about the girl felt familiar.
“Technically it’s you even though it’s really the Ghost of Christmas Past,” Ghost informed. “Someone who couldn’t be bothered to visit you all these long years.”
When Treasa looked at Ghost this time, it was nothing but a small floating orb. More like a Christmas tree bulb. “What do you mean, she’s me?”
“Well, a version of how you saw yourself in the past,” Ghost explained. “Everyone sees something different when they look at that useless holiday spirit. Usually, it becomes more attractive if you appreciate your past. It likely manifests as it does now because you’re a witch. Those such as you tend to see a reflection of yourself at some point in time. In your case, it looks pretty disappointing.”
Treasa tried not to reflect on how disappointing one particular year of her life had been. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Whatever you say. I can’t believe I’m talking to a Christmas tree bulb.”
“Would you prefer I return to being a sexy Highlander because it felt quite delicious,” Ghost said. “Besides, it’s taking a lot of effort not returning to the visage of what you desire most. Consider it a BFF Christmas gift.”
Ghost could ramble on something awful if she let it. “Shhh.” Treasa bit her lower lip, eyes wide. “Oh God, he’s heading this way.” She scooted over to the entrance, glad he had arrived before all the tourists showed up. Excited, she ran her hands over her bell-bottom jeans and yanked at the top of her tie-dyed, v-cut shirt, hoping to show more cleavage. “I wonder if he’ll even recognize me dressed like this.”
When Ghost floated around her, Treasa shook her head. “Stop hovering.”
“You might want to consider something.”
Treasa shook her head, disregarding the spirit.
Ghost was having none of it. “Do you truly not remember your history with this man?”
“Yeah, I remember. Now zip it.” Treasa leaned against the counter and tried to act casual. Who cared if he walked through that door? Not her. Then she reconsidered. Too laid back might seem obvious. Maybe a more sensual pose would be better. One that reminded him what he had been missing all these years. So she thrust out her chest and tilted her hip invitingly.
“Do you need to use the restroom?” Ghost asked. “Because you look like you do.”
Treasa scowled at the orb a
nd grabbed the little Santa bell off the front counter. “And are you made of glass because this’ll break you with one good whip.”
“You’d never whip that at me because I told you sexiness isn’t your strong point.”
“Oh yeah?” Treasa grinned, aimed and threw. Unfortunately, the bell missed Ghost and hit Cullen as he stepped through the front door.
“Och, bloody hell,” he grunted when it pinged off his forehead.
Ghost tittered with laughter as Treasa flinched and rushed over to him. She stopped short a foot away. Not because he clearly couldn’t see her, but for another reason entirely. It felt like all seven hundred and forty-three years since she last saw him fell away in an instant. Memories swamped her. One above all others. Heartache. Now she remembered why the Ghost of Christmas Past looked like such a sad version of herself.
It was the age she had been the last time she saw Cullen.
The day he chose to leave.
How easily she had forgotten. Then again, being trapped so long in a Christmas tourist attraction would make anybody go batty. Even so, how had she managed to turn him into a savior? Yes, he saved many that dreadful day but when given the choice to stay or go, he left.
Stunned, caught in long repressed memories, she lifted her hand to his face but stopped, her words a whisper. “If anyone can save me it’s you but at what damn cost?”
“See, this is what I was trying to remind you of,” Ghost said mournfully, floating around them.
Treasa had no comeback. All she could do was gaze into those gorgeous eyes. For years and years, they had haunted her dreams. Almost as if he sensed her, he froze. Only then did she see the flicker of magic in his eyes, the new darkness that shadowed his soul.
“She’s here,” he whispered. A mixture of turbulent emotions crossed his face.
“No,” she whispered and stepped back. “I don’t think I am after all.”
“It was your summons that got him here,” Ghost reminded. “With my help, of course.”
“What was I thinking?” Treasa leaned against the counter. “He needs to leave. I can’t go through this again.”
“You have no choice now.” Ghost hovered on the tip of the Ghost of Christmas Past’s nose, glowing red to mimic Rudolph. “Sorry, BFF, I’m making fun of this nincompoop, not the girl you once were.”
It was hard to find humor in anything right now. “How come it can’t sense you? I mean you’re both Christmas ghosts, right?” She cursed her traitorous eyes as they roamed down Cullen when he picked the bell up off the floor. He always looked mighty fine in a tartan but ripped jeans and a black leather jacket looked just as good. “For that matter, why can’t he see me? I was under the impression he’d be able to.”
“He will. Just like this blubbering idiot who haunts everyone’s yuletide past.” Ghost hung like a big, gaudy disco ball earring from its rival’s ear. “As soon as the clock strikes midnight tonight. Then you’ll have Christmas day to get your man to do what he needs to.”
Right. That. Treasa sat on the counter and crossed her ankles. Seth and Cullen chatted about where to put their equipment to make contact with her of all people.
“Dang it, I’m not dead,” she complained, hovering her hand over the contraption Seth set on the counter next to her. “Just stuck.”
“Look at that,” she exclaimed. “A little red light is flashing on this thing.”
“There ya go.” Seth nodded at the device. “I’d say that’s your woman right there, Cullen.”
She pulled her hand back when Cullen leaned against the counter beside her. “She goes by Treasa MacFearson,” he said softly, eying the contraption, gaze a little distant. “Or at least she used to.”
Seth propped a small camera in the Christmas tree by the door before he joined them and tapped the device. “This is called an EMF detector. It detects higher readings in the magnetic field. We believe ghosts make the magnetic field fluctuate. This thing has proved it again and again. So let’s see. I haven’t tried it yet with Treasa.”
As he had several times before, Seth addressed her directly. This time, however, it was not with that voice contraption he liked so much. He explained how she could put her hand near the EMF detector if she were answering yes to a question. That would make it light up. If the answer was no, she’d pull her hand away.
Treasa chuckled. “I find this paranormal investigator entertaining.”
“I suppose.” Ghost bounced rapidly and created an unfortunate halo that seemed to elongate his rival’s head. Good thing she barely recognized the Ghost of Christmas Past as herself or she might be offended.
“Go ahead, ask Treasa a question,” Seth urged Cullen.
Cullen looked at the Ghost of Christmas Past. “Why don’t you just communicate directly with her like I do with you, Gop?”
“Right,” she murmured then glanced at Ghost. “Why does he call the other spirit Gop?”
Ghost traced a question mark in the air. “Beats me. Because he’s nothing but a stain on ghostkind? A gop of useless holiday goo?”
“I think you’re thinking of gob not gop.”
Before Ghost could run away with that one, she shook her head. “At least we have a name now. Gop it is.” She scowled at the newly named ghost. “I just wished it didn’t look like such a defeated, lonely girl.”
“Maybe it won’t as the night goes on,” Ghost said.
She almost missed Gop’s response about why the ghost could not see her. As it turned out, everyone except possibly Seth would likely see one another once Christmas day arrived.
“Have at it. Ask Treasa a question,” Seth encouraged Cullen. “It couldn’t hurt any worse than the bell she likely threw at you.”
“So you assume,” Cullen murmured, eying the device.
Treasa figured he would scoff at the whole talking to the dead idea but apparently not.
“Do you still go by the name Treasa MacFearson?” he asked.
She almost hovered her hand over the device and lied, but stopped.
“I know it’s you,” Cullen said softly and clenched his jaw. “Show me what I already know. Say yes.”
“No,” she whispered. Treasa closed her eyes as memories surfaced of the last time he urged her to say yes. How bedraggled and handsome he had looked when he asked her to marry him.
Her eyes flew open when a low buzz sounded and the lights flashed.
“Ghost, stop it,” she groaned, trying to bat away the bulb as it danced around the EMF detector.
“I was only trying to help,” Ghost defended, darting off. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten how this thing works.”
“I didn’t forget crap and you know it.”
“I’ve missed ye, lass.”
Her eyes shot to Cullen, caught not only by the deep rumble of his voice but by how easily he slipped back into his medieval brogue. She might have used hers to summon him, but she would be damned if he used his as well. There was no defense against Cullen Stewart if he embraced his roots.
Their roots.
“Well, I haven’t missed you,” she countered and tried to shove the EMF detector away. As with all objects, her hand passed right through it. Regrettably, she still managed to light it up.
Cullen had the nerve to grin.
Grin.
Oh, but he infuriated her when he did that…and aroused her. No man should look that good with only half a smile on his face. Though she yanked her hand away, the detector still shone brighter than the twenty-foot Christmas tree. “Ghost, get over here and stop this stupid thing somehow. He’ll get the wrong impression.”
“The best thing you can do is leave it be,” Ghost said with Cullen’s voice. “Though I think maybe it’s giving him precisely the impression you want it to.”
Ghost, appearing as Cullen, leaned against the counter on her other side. Startled, she slid sideways right into the real Cullen. Or sort of through him. Her arm into his.
The EMF detector went nuts.
Cullen stille
d.
Treasa knew he felt her. She felt him too. The darkness. Light. Desire. Need. The man she once knew but not him at all.
“Speak to her, Cullen.” Seth held his voice recorder. “See if we get anything.”
“I don’t want to speak to her.” The hoarse octave of Cullen’s voice vibrated straight through her. She recalled the long nights laying in a Highland meadow, her head resting on his chest as they stared at the stars. The way his words rumbled to her core as they did now.
As if he read her mind, Cullen said, “I want to touch her. Hold her again.”
“You gave up that right a long time ago, Stewart,” she muttered and jumped down from the counter. Arms crossed over her chest, she started pacing in front of the life-sized nativity scene. “And I don’t go by MacFearson anymore but Yule.”
“Romance is a good angle, Cullen,” Gop said, sullen eyes roaming the entrance hall. “It’s the best way to connect with Treasa for now.”
Romance? Please. That was not why she had summoned Cullen.
Treasa pressed her lips together when Seth played back the recorder. Sure as heck, she heard her voice. Something indefinable reflected in Cullen’s eyes as he listened. Excitement? A sense of purpose? Relief?
“So you can adjust your accent as well,” he murmured. His eyes swept over the room as if seeking her out. “I can’t wait to see you at midnight, Treasa Yule.” The corner of his lips shot up. “And to learn why you chose such a festive last name.”
That was none of his business. Sort of. Okay, maybe she had made it very much his business.
“Just like I’d like to know what happened to your wings,” she replied without meaning to. Yet she kept talking. “And why I sense evil around you. No, in you.”
Seth played back the recording as Ghost, once more a bulb, perched on the tip of Gop’s foot, somehow giving the impression of a goofy elf shoe.
Cullen was about to respond when Santa arrived. Or so she had taken to calling him. Short and round, the manager of the establishment entered. Rosy-cheeked, smooth-faced and not a day over thirty, he had dyed his hair snow white to match his shaggy beard. Peering over his spectacles, he eyed Seth and Cullen. After all, they were the only two in this miss-matched crowd he could actually see.
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 153
