The Omen
Jack
JACK WALKED INTO THE AUSTERE room. A room in the old servants quarters that hadn’t been used in decades. A room that had nothing but a table draped in scarves, cluttered with vials, scales, jars and bottles and holding burning incense and candles, more candles burned in all the corners and last, there was a bed on which his brother was tied with rope.
And when Jack walked into the room and took all this in, his throat closed.
He swallowed against it, locked eyes with Miles and strode directly to the bed.
“You don’t have to do this,” he told him quietly.
“I do,” Miles returned firmly.
“Miles—”
“Jack, we’ve discussed this. Repeatedly. I need him out,” Miles gritted then his eyes shot to Cassandra who had moved to stand on the other side of the bed.
If it was possible, which Jack wouldn’t have thought it would be until he witnessed it, she was wearing more scarves and more silver.
Apparently, Wiccan ceremonial regalia included significantly over-accessorizing.
“The time is nigh,” she said softly.
Jack’s gaze sliced back to his brother. “Give it more time. You’ve said you’ve felt more yourself. You’ve lost no time. Give it until the next waning of the moon. We’ll do it then if you’re so fucking determined to do this.”
“No,” Miles stated curtly.
“Miles, you could end up not you,” Jack reminded him, his voice harsh with concern.
“And how’s it been, Jack, living with me being me?” Miles returned.
Jack closed his eyes and only opened them when Miles spoke again.
“I must do this and you know it.”
Jack pulled in a sharp breath before he nodded. There was nothing more he could do. He’d talked himself sick, so had Joy as had Yasmin and, even once, Belle.
Miles was determined.
With nothing for it, he took a step away from the bed.
“You know the plan, mate?” Lachlan, who’d moved in silently beside Jack, asked and Jack jerked his chin up.
In the weeks between Miles’s realization that he was possessed by the spirit of a murderer and his understanding of all that was happening at The Point, Miles had had an idea. An idea unfortunately or, perhaps, if it worked, fortunately he shared with Cassandra and Angus. An idea they thought was brilliant, but as usual with this group Jack was not entirely sure.
The plan was, once they tore the spirit of Caleb Caldwell free of Miles Bennett, they were going to capture it and tether it to this world for long enough to interrogate it before they dispelled it forever.
The entirety of the quartet assured him that Caldwell would not break free of these tethers to wreak havoc on his home and loved ones. Or, more havoc than he already had.
Nevertheless, Jack was taking no chances. This meant everyone, including his dogs, was somewhere else. Joy and Lila were at Yasmin’s. Belle, Rachel, Jensen and the dogs were at Belle’s cottage.
“Is everyone ready?” Cassandra asked.
“Aye, Cass,” Angus answered, moving to the foot of the bed.
“Aye,” Lachlan stated, putting a hand to Jack’s back and they moved closer to the side.
“Aye,” Lorna muttered, coming to stand a few feet away from Cassandra at the other side.
Cassandra looked down at Miles and whispered, “You are brave and I am sorry.”
Jack didn’t think that was a good start and he felt his body get tight.
Without delay, Cassandra lifted both her hands to the ceiling, arms out in a Y, one hand holding a twig. Her neck bent well back so her long hair and the ends of the scarf tied tight around her scalp fell down her back and she started murmuring.
Jack couldn’t hear her until her voice grew stronger and the volume higher. It was mostly rhymes, not gibberish but mad all the same.
The entire thing was mad and he couldn’t believe he was there at the same time he hoped to God this worked and his brother came out of it healthy and sane.
Jack watched as Cassandra spoke more, stronger and stronger, louder and louder.
And this went on for some time. So long, his eyes moved to Lorna who was listening, swaying to the rhyme and grinning like she was at some strange concert and enjoying the hell out of the vibe.
Entirely mad.
“Uh . . .” Miles muttered and Jack tore his attention from Lorna to look down at his brother and he saw Miles staring at Cassandra like he didn’t know whether to swear or burst out laughing, “Seriously?”
Jack felt his lips twitch right before Cassandra cried, “So mote it be!” and her arms arced down.
She pointed the twig at Miles and Jack froze solid when a heavy, glittering stream of sparks shot right out of its tip and blasted Miles in the chest.
The instant it hit, Mile’s body arched unnaturally from the bed, his back at such an angle Jack feared his spine would snap. His wrists and ankles were straining fiercely against their bounds. His neck was bowed back so far his head was well beyond his shoulders. And a painful, guttural, appalling, loud noise streamed constantly from his throat.
He did not look or sound in pain.
He looked and sounded like he was in agony.
“Stop!” Jack clipped as Cassandra kept the beam of sparks aimed at Miles’s chest, her eyes riveted to him, her mouth moving now without sound but constantly. “Stop!” he shouted and began to move, but Lachlan clapped a hand strong and firm on Jack’s shoulder and didn’t let go.
“Hold steady, lad,” Angus encouraged from his place at the foot of the bed, his gaze on Miles. He, like Lorna and Lachlan, all held a whip in their hands.
Jack looked back to Miles and Cassandra, the latter of which seemed to be trembling. She definitely was sweating even though she wasn’t moving. And her concentration and the stream of magic hadn’t wavered.
Miles was still making that hideous noise.
“God damn it! Stop!” Jack thundered, shirking off Lachlan’s hand but Lachlan was moving, positioning one foot behind the other, raising the whip in his hand and Jack’s eyes shot back to the bed just as the see-through human shape of a man tore violently free of Miles’s body.
The noise died in Miles’s throat and his body collapsed limply to the bed at the exact instant the three McPhersons moved, rounding their whips over their heads with swift, practiced movements and striking out. The tips of all three lashed out and whirled, catching the ethereal shape about the waist and holding him captive and floating above the bed. Every inch where the whips wound around the phantom, gold sparks crackled.
“Fucking hell,” Jack whispered, staring at the man whose burning, incensed, frenzied eyes locked on Jack.
Then his mouth moved but the words that came out sounded hollow and sinister throughout the entire room.
“You will not win this time, Bennett.”
“I didn’t win last time, you bastard. You killed my fucking wife,” Jack bit out.
“You got my wife with child . . .” Caldwell returned then screeched a demented, “twice!”
“She was bloody well Joshua’s wife and you know it,” Jack fired back.
“She was mine!” he roared.
“She was never yours,” Jack retorted and tired of the conversation he was having with a fucking ghost so he moved it firmly on. “Now tell us about the children. How do we send them home?”
“I will not stop until I best you,” Caldwell declared.
“Wrong, mate, you bought yourself a one-way ticket straight to hell by being a jealous, abusive, murderous arsehole,” Lorna cut in and Caldwell’s ghostly head turned her way. “Your ride on this plane is done. Your eternal ride isn’t going to be too pleasant and you’ve got one chance to help yourself out. You can do that by telling us how we send those children to the next plane.”
“I will best him,” Caldwell reiterated, exposing his one-track mind.
“Laddie, you aren’t getting this but you’re stuck. You got these last minutes to do right before your judgement,” Angus broke in. “Do right. Tell us what you know about sending those children where they can be at peace.”
Jack watched Caldwell’s burning gaze glare at Angus then he looked about the room.
“Fucking hell, that thing was in me?” Miles asked at this point, his voice barely above a whisper but it sounded healthy, strong and sane.
Jack relaxed (slightly) and pinned Caldwell with his gaze.
“Tell us about the children,” he demanded and Caldwell held his stare silently. “Tell us about the children!” he repeated, his voice louder.
“The children do not matter,” Caldwell whispered disturbingly.
“If you know something, tell us,” Jack ordered.
Again with the disturbing whisper, “I will best you.”
“You won’t, I always win,” Jack returned. “Now tell us . . . about . . . the children.”
And right then Jack felt ice fill his veins because Caldwell smiled an eerie, malicious smile.
“I already have,” he kept whispering. “I’ve won. You don’t know. You have no idea. But you’ll never have her. My Brenna.” His grin became more evil and he leaned toward Jack. “My Belle. If I can’t have her, you never will. I’ve seen to that, James. It’s already begun.”
“He doesn’t know anything, Cass, send him down,” Angus ordered.
“What have you done?” Jack asked, not tearing his eyes from the spirit.
“Something I’ll never tell. Something you can’t stop,” Caldwell answered. “Her body will again be broken by rock and sea.”
Jack reached out, grasped Lachlan’s whip and yanked hard, jerking Caldwell’s ghostly frame his way as he roared, “What have you done?”
“Send him down, Cass! Now!” Angus boomed.
“Smothered of air, broken by sea, pure souls taken by the hand of thee, dark spirit, attend your eternal sentence, as I will, so mote it be!” Cassandra cried, a stream of sparks shot from her twig and it hit Caldwell in the gut.
His body jerked once, twice, three times then it exploded in white sparks that flew across the room, bouncing off the walls, floor, ceiling and all the inhabitants. The whip ends fell and he was gone.
Jack, breathing heavily, stared into the empty space where Caldwell disappeared until he heard Miles whisper, “Bloody hell, did that just happen?”
Turning swiftly and angling low, he put his face an inch from his brother’s and demanded, “What did he do?”
Miles blinked, his head jerking and he said quietly, “Jack, I don’t know.”
“What was he talking about with Belle?” Jack clipped.
“Honest to God, Jack, I don’t know.”
Jack fisted his hand in Miles’s shirt and got nose to nose with him. “He was in you. Search for it, Miles. What did he mean?”
He felt Angus’s hand light on his back right before he heard him say, “Lad, step back. Let us see to your brother.”
Jack ignored Angus. “Tell me, Miles.”
Miles shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Jack pulled him up by his shirt and slammed him into the bed.
“Think!” he roared.
He vaguely sensed Cassandra working at the bounds at Miles’s wrist then Miles, freed at his feet and one hand, pulled himself up the bed but he held Jack’s eyes. Jack moved back half a foot and returned the gesture.
“I’ll think, Jack, but honest to God, I swear, he didn’t communicate with me but I’ll try and I’ll . . .” his eyes moved to Cassandra, “I’ll work with her. With them. See if they can pull anything out.”
Jack straightened and tried to control his thoughts, his breathing and the burn in his gut.
Angus moved in to release Miles from the last of his bonds.
“I know it doesn’t seem good but we have a warning,” Lachlan said low at his side. “It’s always good to have a warning, mate. We’ll be prepared.”
Jack didn’t feel good about this. Not any part of it.
In fact, he felt a burning in his gut that stated quite plainly that something was very wrong.
His eyes drifted to the space Caldwell’s spirit inhabited moments before.
Then he took in a calming breath and looked to his brother who had shifted to sit on the side of the bed, leaned forward, elbows to his thighs.
“How do you feel?” he asked and Miles tilted his head back to look at his brother.
“Like I feel the morning after I’ve had way too much lager, about the same amount of vodka and washed that all down with a kebab that had a side order of grease,” Miles answered.
“Far from pleasant,” Jack told him. “But at least you’re no longer harboring the spirit of a man who murdered women and children.”
One side of Miles’s lips moved up as he muttered, “Silver lining.”
“What’s one and one?” Cassandra asked.
Miles sat up and twisted to look over the bed at her.
“Two,” he replied.
“Your name?” she asked.
“Miles Bennett,” he answered.
“Is it wrong to eat babies?” she asked, and Miles muttered, “Jesus. Are you serious?”
Cassandra nodded, her face grave.
“Yes, bloody hell, yes, it’s wrong to eat babies,” Miles answered then twisted back and looked up at Jack before sharing, “This is fucking insane.”
“And unfortunately it’s not fucking over,” Jack replied and took in another deep breath before he said Belle’s words of weeks before. “But at least that’s one thing down.”
Miles grinned, pushed up from the bed and swayed until Jack’s hand shot out and caught his. Palm to palm, his fingers tight around the side of his brother’s hand, he held strong until Miles steadied.
And he still held strong when Miles again caught his eye.
“All right?” Jack asked quietly, looking deep into his brother’s blue eyes.
Miles took in a breath, took a moment then he nodded. “All right.”
“All right,” Jack repeated and gave his brother’s hand a jerk before letting it go.
“Jack?” Miles called and Jack looked at him again. “Nothing will happen to Belle. We’ll all look after her. It’ll be fine.”
Jack kept hold of his brother’s eyes a long moment before he nodded, hoping to God Miles was right.
He turned away and said to no one, “I’m getting a whisky. Then I’m getting in my car and getting Belle and my dogs. If you want a whisky, you better follow me because I won’t be taking time over mine.”
And on that, he walked out of the room with five people following him.
“Good dogs,” Jack murmured as both dogs came to him on the landing of Belle’s cottage but neither woofed their greeting.
Jack gave them quick but loving scratches and walked directly to Belle’s room. He moved to the side of the bed and saw her through the shadows sleeping in the middle. The moon was waning, the night dark, her wispy curtains closed. There was little light so all he could see was that she was on her side facing his side of the bed and she had her knees curled slightly toward her belly.
But seeing her peaceful, he decided he’d not wake her and take her home but instead join her in bed here.
Before he did that, he had three things to do.
“Stay with Belle,” he whispered to his dogs and they settled on their bellies on Belle’s side of the bed.
Moving back out, he carefully closed the door so as not to make any sound. Then he moved across the landing into the living room and closed that door.
Once in, he pulled out his phone and made his first call.
“All right, lad?” Angus answered after one ring.
“Go over everything, Angus, all of you. Every piece of information, go back to every person you talked to, bring in more witches, clairvoyants, soothsayers, I don’t give a fuck what you have to do. Find out what he did. Find it out and find a way to stop it,” Jack commanded.
“Already on it, Jack,” Angus replied. “We got the whisky and we got our stuff spread out in your dining room. Miles feels crap but still, he’s in with Cassandra now. She’s going to hypnotize him. See if he can pull up any memories of his blank spots.”
“Good,” Jack returned, disconnected without a good-bye and made his next call.
On ring four he heard a sleepy, “Jesus, Bennett, it’s after one in the morning.”
Jack didn’t delay.
“Tonight, Dempsey, I had a fucking conversation with the fucking ghost of fucking Caleb Caldwell.”
Dempsey was silent for a moment before he replied, “I’m guessing with your ample usage of the word ‘fucking’ this conversation didn’t go well.”
“No, it did not.”
“Do I want to know how you managed to have a conversation with a man who’s been dead for two hundred years?” Dempsey asked.
“Considering your profession, I can only assume your level of curiosity is elevated beyond that of others so yes, you probably would like to know. You also probably wouldn’t believe a bloody word I said.”
“I’m hanging in there with this supernatural shit, mate,” Dempsey reminded him.
“And you’re getting paid to do just that,” Jack’s reminded Dempsey before he carried on, “Tonight, Caldwell shared he’s put some plan into action and whatever it is has already begun. And whatever it is puts Belle in danger. And before you ask, that would be mortal danger considering he declared her body will be broken by rock and sea.”
“Jesus,” Dempsey muttered.
“Indeed,” Jack clipped. “You told me there was nothing more to learn that would be of consequence, you’ve gone over it all. I want you to do it again and dig deeper.”
“Bennett, firstly, crazy as your story is, half of me believes it. The coincidences are too stark for there not to be some truth in this.”
“I’m obliged you think so, Dempsey, but, no offense, I also don’t give a fuck if you believe. Right now—”
Dempsey cut him off, “I wasn’t done. I just wanted you to know I don’t think you’re entirely mad.”
“Brilliant,” Jack muttered, for the first time after what he witnessed tonight wondering if Dempsey was right and he actually was mad.
Entirely.
Before Jack could fully assess his sanity, Dempsey continued.
“And I also have to remind you these murders happened two centuries ago. It was lucky I was able to find what I already found. You know I’m thorough and I promise you, I was no less thorough with this. There’s nothing else to be found.”
“Dig deeper,” Jack ordered.
“Jack—” he used Jack’s nickname for the first time and he did it sounding conciliatory.
Jack was in no mood to be pacified.
“Tonight, we tore Caleb Caldwell out of my brother,” Jack shared and heard Dempsey’s surprised grunt but kept talking. “When we did, we questioned him. We got nothing except for the fact that he was very certain he would best me. He was very certain because he told us he’d already set the plan into motion. Miles has told us that he’s lost time. Caldwell has been able to take control of him and he has. Miles is going to work with the people I’ve hired to deal with the bloody supernatural part of this madness. You are going to see if there’s some connection of the now to the then. Something he did back then, someone he worked with, something he used Miles in this time to do, something we missed, something that could harm Belle.”
“All right, Jack, I’ll dig deeper,” Dempsey agreed quietly.
“Don’t delay,” Jack returned.
“Can I finish out the night sleeping?” Dempsey asked.
“Yes. It would be better that you were fresh when you get down to it,” Jack allowed before concluding, “Goodnight, Dempsey.”
“’Night, Jack.”
Jack disconnected then made his final call.
“Mate, we’re drinking whisky but we’re still working,” Lachlan said by way of greeting.
“Call Lewis,” Jack ordered.
“Sorry?”
“Lewis. Call him. Speak to him. Find out everything he knows about that night. Anything he remembers about his mother, father and Caleb Caldwell. If he saw Caldwell in the village and who he might have seen him with. If he heard any talk. Anything.”
There was a pause and Jack would understand he was seeking privacy when he spoke again in a low tone. “Uh, Jack, I get you’re freaked but I also don’t have to remind you that wee one was murdered.”
“You don’t,” Jack agreed tersely.
“Belle wanted us to go gentle with the children,” Lachlan reminded him of something else he hadn’t forgotten.
“Then go gentle as you ask him all I’ve told you to ask him.”
“Jack—”
“He’ll tell you,” Jack interrupted. “He’ll want to help Belle. Be kind. Have a mind. But do it.”
There was another pause before Lachlan agreed, “Right, mate. I’ll get Lorna and we’ll do it tonight.”
“Excellent. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Jack disconnected again, pulled in a deep breath and on his second one, decided there was nothing more he could do.
This did not make him feel better.
He walked through the cottage, disrobed in Belle’s bedroom and slid into bed beside her.
She wrapped herself around him immediately.
This made him feel better.
“Is Miles all right?” she whispered, and at the sound of her voice he knew she’d never been asleep but, as was her way, remained in bed to give him some time.
“He’s fine.”
“Did everything go okay?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” he lied.
“Jack, you got here ten minutes ago and came to bed just now. Are you sure everything is all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Belle. I’m fine. Miles is fine. Everything is fine.” He pulled her closer. “Now, I’m exhausted and I need to sleep.”
Although it was wrapped warm around him, she held her body stiffly for long moments before she asked softly, “You wouldn’t lie to me?”
In the more than three weeks since Jack broke through her grief, she’d been happy. There had been dramas. He’d seen a shadow pass over her eyes on occasion and he knew her thoughts were dark. Twice, he’d seen her run her hand over her belly, her face set in wistful nostalgia. And it was not pleasant nostalgia, it was melancholic. He gave her these times, times she needed to process the grief for their lost child. Times, unfortunately, she would likely always have if, eventually, less frequently.
But mostly, she’d been content, her giggles coming more often, her smiles regular.
And there was nothing Jack wouldn’t do to make certain Belle remained happy.
Including lie.
“No, my love, I wouldn’t lie to you,” he whispered, gathered her closer in his arms and urged, “Now, sleep.”
It took her another moment before her soft body yielded against his and she whispered, “Okay, honey.”
She trusted him and he hoped to Christ nothing would happen to make her realize that this once, just this once, for her happiness, he didn’t deserve it.
“Goodnight, poppet,” he murmured.
“’Night, Jack.”
Jack stared at the ceiling as he listened to Belle’s breathing, so he heard when it deepened and evened and he felt it when her body melted in sleep into his.
And he kept staring at the ceiling for long hours after that.
So long, he was awake when she woke.
Exhausted, beyond concerned and feeling a feeling he didn’t like that was worse than both—powerless—he still turned to her when he felt the sleep leave her. Then he put his hands and mouth on her, and as he did, he took off her nightgown and panties.
But without any sleep, exhausted, when she was ready, he made her do all the work. He shifted her over him, guided himself inside and sat up. Holding her moving body in his arms, his head tipped back, his hand cupping hers tipping it down so her mouth was on his as she rode him until she gave it to herself and kept riding him until she gave it to him.
And later, pretending all was well, he had breakfast in her small kitchen with her eccentric mother and father then he packed his Belle and his dogs in his car and he took them home.