Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  Ryan let them inside the house through the back door. Emily walked the kitchen and living room, trolling for spiritual energy, touching Becky’s things—antique furniture, framed photographs, books and the dreamcatchers Becky had made and sold, which hung in various stages of completion all through the house. She sensed her friend’s presence in everything but there was nothing akin to fear in the lingering energy.

  As she neared the front door the vibes grew suddenly negative and unusually powerful. She grasped the banister to steady herself as remnants of an angry aura appeared.

  Before she’d walked away from the world of spirits, she always carried sage with her in case she needed to clear out any negative energy, but she’d gotten out of the habit. Besides, she’d have to let the bad vibes remain until she could figure out whose they were.

  The energy glowed a muddy red then turned almost inky before disintegrating.

  “She wasn’t far from here when she died.” Fear and dread gripped her as a grainy vision appeared. Becky was furious and fighting someone who meant to hurt her—to kill her. Then the apparition was gone.

  Tears burned in Emily’s eyes for her friend’s terrifying final moments. Foreign emotions filled her head. She closed her eyes and concentrated. “She knew him and she wasn’t afraid of him. That made it easier for the killer to keep her relatively calm until…”

  The blood drained from Ryan’s face. This was harder to hear than he’d imagined. He sank into an antique loveseat. “Her body was found near the lake, about half a mile down the road.”

  Emily opened her eyes and held perfectly still. “She didn’t fear him until very close to the end.” Her voice rang with conviction.

  “Was it Tommy? Had to be. No one else would harm her.” He got up and took a step toward her, his brain buzzing with questions and emotion, but he stood back when Emily held up her palm.

  She shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know. I’m not getting anything else. It’s like there’s a force blocking me.”

  “But you did see something.” He was talking to a woman who claimed to be psychic and he actually believed that she was somehow tuned into the spiritual world. Until twenty-four hours ago he’d have laughed off psychic powers and ghosts. What a difference a day made.

  And an experience with a ghost.

  “Yes, there’s definitely energy here.” She closed her eyes again and seemed to mumble.

  He made out his sister’s name but not much else.

  She furrowed her brow and fisted her hands at her sides. After a minute or two she faced him. “Where’s her grave?”

  “Just up the road.” When she questioned him with her eyes, he went on. “The original property has been in the family for three generations but it was a lot bigger back then. Much of the land was sold off over the years but we still own the cemetery, or rather, I do. I’m the only one left.” A stab of grief nudged at him.

  Emily rubbed a gentle hand over his arm, reminding him that he was alive and still capable of feelings other than pain and frustration.

  Staring into her eyes, he shoved away the sadness of the past in favor of the beautiful woman standing before him. He’d never seen a complexion similar to hers—perfectly smooth and unblemished, the color of café au lait. He shouldn’t want to kiss her at a time like this but nor could he pretend the emotion wasn’t there.

  Aside from his sister’s funeral, the last time he’d seen her she’d been just a kid, eighteen or nineteen. But holy hell, she’d grown up. What she lacked in height she made up in stacked-to-the-max. Details of the sensual part of his visions flooded his memory and need coiled tightly inside him.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Thick, dark lashes fluttered as she stared up at him.

  He had to remind himself why they were there and that she could be in danger. Tamping down his arousal, he cleared his throat. “Did you want to head over to Becky’s grave?”

  She squared her shoulders. “Not really, but I suppose we should. Maybe I’ll pick up on something more there.”

  After he locked the house up, they got into his truck. He reached across the seat to take her hand and inwardly smiled when she didn’t pull away. They didn’t speak most of the way to the cemetery but as he rubbed his thumb over her hand, he sensed her trying to combat her trepidation. “Sure you’re up for this?”

  She gave him a small smile. “It’s important. I have to do it.”

  After he parked he tucked his .45 into his belt then climbed out of the cab. He checked the area and found it deserted so he helped her out of the truck, then led her past the graves of his parents and grandparents. He’d let Becky down after he’d vowed to take care of her, to protect her. He wondered if he could ever forgive himself. The reminder that he was the only one left weighed heavily on his heart, but Emily’s presence felt strangely comforting.

  The air shifted when they neared Becky’s grave with its brand-new headstone gleaming in the moonlight.

  “Whatever happens, promise me you’ll stay back,” Emily said.

  He tightened his grip on her. “If a ghost grabs you or something, I’m going to fight them off.” He kept his tone light, but he meant what he said.

  A hint of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Fine, but otherwise, just let me be. Seeing a spirit for the first—or second time—can be pretty frightening.” Suddenly she stumbled backward, gasping. She’d have fallen if he hadn’t tightened his grasp on her.

  He checked for a rock or a hidden obstacle on the ground but there was nothing but the flat plane of grass. “What happened?”

  She was trembling. “I don’t know. Felt like someone gave me a shove.”

  “But there’s no one here.”

  “No one we can see, anyway. That doesn’t mean we’re alone. Might have been a spirit or even a live person’s energy. Whatever it was, they know what I’m about to do and they’re not happy about it.”

  Now on alert, his senses sharpened as he scanned the area. “I don’t like this. Let’s get out of here. This isn’t worth putting you in danger.”

  But she stood her ground. “No, I have to do this.”

  He tucked her under his arm. “Like hell you do. Maybe someone’s trying to tell us something.”

  “I’m fine, Ryan. Come on, we’re already here. Besides, we have no idea who or what is putting me in danger. Maybe we’ll find something out that could help.”

  He gritted his teeth but acquiesced, comforted by the presence of his loaded weapon.

  At his nod, she disengaged herself then held still as death. She took several deep breaths that she exhaled slowly. Closing her eyes, she lifted her arms as if she supported a child in them.

  His heart pounded as he watched her face, so pale in the scant moonlight.

  “I beseech you, Ramiel, who dwells among the graves upon the bones of the dead, that you will bring forth Rebecca Barnes. Raise her up so that she will speak to me without fear and tell me the truth without deception. Let me be not afraid of her and let her answer whatever question I need ask her.”

  Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off Emily. Was she really summoning his sister’s ghost? The whole thing felt so surreal. His gut roiled with a giddy nervousness. He shivered at the sudden cold but Emily didn’t seem bothered by it. She still had her eyes shut but she dropped her arms to her sides. Nothing happened for several minutes and he was about to call it a wash when Emily suddenly gasped.

  She shook and took a backward step as if pushed. He fought the instinct to grab her and run.

  The voice that emanated from Emily was his sister’s. “Emily, my friend, take care with your life or you’ll meet the same fate as I, by the very same hand.”

  Blood thundered in Ryan’s ears but he struggled to listen carefully to Becky’s words.

  “Someone means you harm for the answers you and my brother seek. Go carefully or else say your farewells.” His sister’s specter vanished and Emily suddenly crumpled onto the ground.

  He rushed to her an
d lifted her into his arms. “Emily?”

  Her eyes remained closed and her body limp.

  “Emily?” Terror clawed at his throat.

  She grasped his arm and her eyelids fluttered a few times before opening. “I’m okay, just…out of practice I guess. Channeling always takes a lot out of me.”

  He finally exhaled then started back to his truck with her, mentally kicking himself for putting her in danger. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea this would be so rough on you. We’ll find another way.”

  “Put me down, please.”

  He didn’t want to let her go, couldn’t bear the thought of not smelling her floral scent or of breaking contact with the curves that pressed against his chest and his arms. When he set her on her feet, she hooked her arm through his and let him lead her.

  He helped her into the truck, skimming his hand over her silky shirt. For God’s sake. Since when did a woman’s back get him excited?

  “There is no other way, Ryan. You heard what Becky said, didn’t you?”

  He started the motor and backed out of the parking spot. “She had to be talking about Tommy. I know in my gut that bastard killed her.” He took a right onto the road that would lead them to the interstate.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you so sure?”

  “He was the only suspect besides…” Damn it. He didn’t want to say that he’d been on their list too.”

  “Besides who?”

  Before he could answer, something slammed into the back of the pickup, lurching them forward. “What the hell was that?” He glanced at Emily. “You okay?”

  She nodded but her eyes were wide. Thankfully she had on her seat belt.

  Checking his rearview mirror, he saw a black SUV with no headlights back up then start toward them again. “Hang on!”

  “What’s going on?” Her voice was high pitched and wobbly.

  He spun the wheel then floored the accelerator. The truck whipped one-hundred-eighty degrees around and his headlights caught the other vehicle hightailing it out of there. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Becky. It was about Becky.” She held a hand over her heart. “I tried to pick up on the negative energy surrounding us but… I must be rusty. I’m sorry. Whoever that was must have been at the cemetery.”

  “Yup. Are you okay?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. A fierce protectiveness stormed through him.

  “Fine.” The tremble in her voice was unmistakable. “We should call the police.”

  “And tell them what? That someone rammed us because we’re trying to contact my dead sister?” He leaned his head back against the seat. “I’m sorry. I probably called them three times a day for the first couple weeks after the murder. You could say I wore out my welcome with the local cops. But you’re right. I ought to report it. I don’t think it’ll do any good though. I’m going to check out the damage first. Stay here.” He grabbed his .45 from under the seat then got out of the truck and strode to the back. The tailgate was dented but not as badly as he’d anticipated.

  He headed back and climbed inside the cab. “Could be worse.” He pulled out his phone and hit the number he’d memorized weeks earlier. “Detective Walters, please.”

  As predicted, the detective told him all he could do was write up a report.

  “Thanks, Detective. I’ll submit it to my insurance company.” He hung up then rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for nothing.”

  “Well?” she asked.

  “They’ll make a hit-and-run report, which will sit in a computer file until hell freezes over. I told you it wouldn’t do any good. It’s a four-person department here. Nothing like Raleigh’s police force.” He pounded a fist onto the steering wheel. “I’m taking you to my place.”

  “Your place? Why not Raleigh?”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight. I failed to protect my sister, but God help me, I refuse to take the same chance with you.”

  She started to protest but he touched a finger to her lips. “Have you ever lost anyone you loved?”

  Her neck quivered with a swallow and he wanted to kiss the spot. She didn’t answer for a long moment. “My mother. Well, she’s not dead but she’s gone from my life.”

  “If she’s still alive then you have a chance to mend things with her.” He started the ignition. “You never know when someone will be ripped out of your life for good.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have my room.”

  She hesitated, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, Ryan.”

  “This isn’t open for discussion. I’ve drawn you into this and now you’re a target. I plan to keep you safe.”

  As much as Emily wanted to argue with Ryan, insist he take her home, she knew he was right. She’d been smart to stay away from all things supernatural recently. She’d only been involved with this case a few hours and already she was in trouble. Although she’d actually been in danger since Ryan had imagined her in danger in his vision. Panic drummed through her. Her mother’s words played in her head.

  “Ain’t no escaping the gifts God has given you.”

  She hadn’t wanted her powers then and she still didn’t. How foolish she’d been to believe that she could hide from her abilities. The very thing she’d feared the most was happening. She wished to God she could have avoided becoming a target again, but even if she’d turned down Ryan’s plea for help, she’d have been drawn into the fray somehow. The die had already been cast.

  Ryan turned in to a driveway in front of a two-story house with a white picket fence around it. He took her inside and turned on a few lights, never releasing her hand. The contact felt reassuring but she knew he was no match for the strong supernatural presence she’d felt as they’d approached Becky’s grave.

  The large, open hallway was partially painted off-white and the banister and stairs had been stripped but not yet refinished. The dark wood floors were scratched and worn but she imagined Ryan would eventually take care of them as well.

  “Sorry, it’s still a work in progress.” Leading her through each room, he pointed out all the things he planned to finish or redo. “It has real good bones.”

  “I see that.” Aside from the obvious antique features like arches, dentil molding and stained glass windows, the place had a warmth to it she found comforting. Maybe it just reminded her of Ryan. “It’ll be lovely when you’re finished.”

  He stopped walking and scratched his head. “I’m unclear on something. You think someone didn’t want you to communicate with Becky and that’s why they tried to frighten you away at the cemetery, right? And it was the same person who rear-ended us as we left.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “How did they know we were there?”

  She wrinkled her forehead in concentration. “One way someone could have known we were there is if they set up sort of…” She searched for the right words. “Like a force field or a psychic sentry if you will. I felt something blocking me from sensing the energy at Becky’s house but that wall grew stronger at her grave.”

  “So whoever killed her had their own psychic powers?”

  She frowned. “Not necessarily. They might have had someone else cast a spell for them.”

  “Spells and psychic force fields and ghosts. I can’t believe we’re talking about this stuff and I actually think it could all be real.”

  Could be? How could he still have doubts? If he did, wasn’t he in effect accusing her of being a shyster again? “It is real, Ryan.”

  He shook his head then continued his tour. When they reached the kitchen, he tipped his chin at the bistro table. “Have a seat. I’ll make us something to eat.” He opened the fridge, grabbed a beer and popped it open. “Want one?”

  She tried to brush aside her annoyance as he pulled items out to set on the counter. Her stomach lurched at the notion of food. “Nothing for me, I’m not hungry. And I don’t appreciate your insinuation that I’m making this up.”


  He stopped what he was doing and closed the distance between them. Crouching in front of her, he held onto the sides of the chair, gating her in. His rock-hard forearms pushed against her thighs and her temperature spiked. His eyes were soft and compassionate. “No, darlin’, I never said you were faking. This is new to me and I find it hard to reconcile it with everything I’ve ever known to be reality. I’m not doubting you, I swear.” He cupped her cheek and God help her, she leaned into his touch.

  She stared into those mesmerizing blue eyes and let desire banish her irritation. “Okay, I believe you.”

  He gave her a smile. “Good, now maybe you can eat something. When was the last time you ate? You have to keep up your strength, for Becky…and for me.”

  How was she supposed to think with him so close that his manly scent was all around her, intoxicating her? She could see only his ruggedly handsome face—the small scar above his left eye, the chiseled jaw and cheekbones. “I-I ate something for lunch, a salad or a sandwich. I don’t remember. It feels like weeks ago rather than hours.”

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek, his whiskers deliciously scratching her skin. “Amazing how quickly things can change.” His gaze dropped to her lips and hovered there. The spot tingled under his stare.

  She could hardly breathe for the sensual hunger coursing through her. She’d wanted Ryan for so long. Although he’d drawn her back into the supernatural world where she’d sworn she’d never return, for some reason she felt safe with him. More than that, being with him made her aware of herself as a woman—a woman with needs that she’d kept at bay for far too long. She squashed all her objections to kissing him again before they could take root.

  He hooked a hand around her neck and drew her to him. She shut her eyes and gave up control to her libido and her heart. Then his mouth was on hers—plundering and mastering as if she belonged to no one but him. He tasted of beer, and desire.

  Suddenly breaking contact, he stood and pulled her up and into his arms. He whispered her name like a prayer.

  Her head was dizzy with arousal as he weaved his fingers into her hair and held her possessively against him for another scorching kiss. He explored her mouth, then kissed his way along her neck to her collarbone.