TWO
Ryan’s posture stiffened and his lips tightened in a straight line.
“Talk to her?” I repeated, frowning.
“Well.” Jill took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of her pants, as if she worried how I would take what she was about to say. “You see, Mama,” she said, nodding toward Ada, “she had brain surgery about a month ago.”
I looked from the old woman to Jill.
Jill continued. “She died right there on the operatin’ table.”
I couldn’t keep the confusion from my face. “Your mother…” I nodded in Ada’s direction, “died?”
She is a very believable ghost, mon chaton, Drake piped up from inside my head. I had to hold my smile back.
Jill nodded slowly. “For twenty minutes, my mama was dead. But the doctors, bless their hearts, revived her.”
“I was in a coma for two weeks,” Ada added with a heartfelt nod. Then she grew quiet again.
“The doctors said she wasn’t going to come out of it. But she did,” Jill continued as she smiled at her mother. “And the first thing Mama said when she woke up was…”
“Memaw’s in trouble,” Ada finished for her daughter.
I glanced at Ada. She looked up at me, her eyes rimmed with tears. No, there wasn’t going to be any refusing them…
Ma minette, would you please consider my counsel before you give them your answer? Drake piped up. You are not required to decide at this very moment!
I ignored him as Jill continued. “We thought Memaw Alice died in peace after findin’ out her mother was Dorothy Arnold, but when Mama died at the hospital for those few seconds, Memaw came to her. Memaw said Dorothy couldn’t pass on to the other side because she was stuck here on this plane.”
“She’s stuck?” I repeated, and something sunk in my chest.
“Yes. An’ Memaw Alice can’t get to her. It’s like, she can see Dorothy, but she’s shut off from any communication. And somethin’ is holdin’ Dorothy’s spirit. Memaw could feel it.” Jill glanced at her mother. “That’s what she told Mama.”
Perhaps she is one of those spirits that are doomed to reliving death repeatedly, Drake said, his voice sad.
I’d encountered such spirits before. Usually, they died in such horrific ways, they were trapped in that final moment of their lives. The saddest part was that they were unreachable, and as such, destined to remain that way forever.
“And well, we just…” Tears filled Jill’s eyes. “Memaw Alice won’t move on until she can take Dorothy with her.” She looked at the rail thin Ada. “And we refuse to allow Memaw to not be at peace.”
My heart sank in my chest. I couldn’t imagine what they were going through. But if Drake were right, and Dorothy Arnold was truly stuck, reliving her final moments over and over again, there was nothing I could do. Unlike sentient spirits, spirits like these didn’t interact with outside forces. It was as if they were just bits of energy, replaying the same scene over and over again.
Ada discreetly wiped away the tears that rolled down the crinkly skin of her cheeks. She looked at me and spoke in her raspy voice, her chest rising and falling with the obvious exertion it took for her to expel the words.
“After we talked to Peter about you, we just knew you could help us,” she said as she looked at me with imploring eyes. “If you could just find Dorothy and talk to her…”
“I don’t know…” I answered, searching for what to say. How could I possibly break the news to them that Dorothy was probably not only unreachable, but remaining that way because she died a horrific death?
“We have plenty of money,” Jill started.
“It’s not…” I began, shaking my head.
“There’s more than just finances to worry about,” Ryan said with a solemn look on his face. “These forays into other dimensions are very taxing… they take a lot out of Peyton,” he said, nodding to me.
The women deflated at hearing his words.
“It isn’t just that,” I said gently. “I don’t know how we would reach Dorothy without knowing exactly where she died. When I’ve contacted the dead in the past, I’ve had precise information regarding where to find them…”
Jill’s gaze leveled on mine. “Peter said you went back in time once. Something about a murderer. The Axeman? He heard about it from Trina… and we thought if…”
And there it is, I inwardly lamented to Drake.
You cannot go back, mon chaton. It is too dangerous! I refuse to allow it!
Ryan folded his arms across his chest and didn’t look too surprised, like he knew where this was going too, but he didn’t seem as moved by their story as I was.
“If you went back once…” Jill continued, the optimism in her voice nearly hurting my ears.
“I did,” I said with a sigh, “but it was… very risky.”
There is nothing you can do, ma minette! Drake railed at me, clearly becoming more annoyed at being ignored. If Dorothy is a trapped spirit, she cannot be reached!
But we don’t know that for sure, I argued. Maybe there’s another reason why she’s stuck and can’t communicate with Alice.
“We have money,” Jill said again, her voice soft. “We have been saving it up for a while because this is so important to us.”
The two women were anxiously waiting for me to say something, and I noted the dullness of Ada’s eyes. Jill was wringing her hands. They were desperate for my help. The pit in my stomach ached; I had to at least try to help. Even if that ultimately meant another trip to Guarda.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Peyton? Alone?” Ryan asked but I knew he wasn’t exactly requesting it.
I gave the two women a small smile. “Please excuse us. Just for a minute.” They both nodded solemnly.
Ryan and I walked back into the kitchen and stood in the far corner by the sink while I waited for him to say something. His hands were on his hips, and the muscles in his arms bunched up in coils under his thin t-shirt.
“Pey, goin’ back to Guarda is clearly out of the question.”
“I can’t refuse to help them,” I answered with a frown.
Ryan swiped his paw of a hand over his eyes at my words.
Le barbarian is right, ma minette. Helping them comes at a steep price. Guarda! We still don’t fully know the cost of our previous encounters with her…
Drake’s words made me shiver with uneasiness and a tingle ran down my spine. Ever since I’d gotten tangled up with Guarda, I hadn’t felt quite right. Like when you start coming down with the flu, you sense something has invaded your body, but you don’t quite know what’s wrong. As time passed, the feeling remained even though it became easier to live with it. Drake picked up on it too, which wasn’t surprising, seeing as how he was living inside me.
“I need to at least talk to Lovie,” I started. “Maybe she can figure out a way for me to reach Dorothy without physically traveling to where her ghost is…”
Ryan sighed. “What happens if she can’t?”
If she is a stuck spirit, no one can reach her, Drake replied. You should tell that to the ladies at once so you do not perpetuate their hopes and false aspirations.
Maybe Lovie will have some ideas about that too, I retorted inwardly to Drake. I looked up and said to my visitors, “I have to at least try.”
“I’ve been feelin’ that a talk with Lovie is long overdue.” Ryan looked at me pointedly.
I knew what that was about. And so did Drake.
I prefer not to be banished to the house again, he responded. If he were standing in front of me, I knew his arms would be crossed over his chest, and his chin would be jutting out with stubborn defiance.
I shut Drake out, silencing his chatter while Ryan and I had a discussion. If I hadn’t, I knew Ryan would have gotten riled up. At the thought of Drake haunting my house again, I let out a big sigh. If Drake’s spirit was returned to my house, every time Ryan and I started getting a little frisky, Drake would start busting out light bulbs, stomping on the floorboards, turning the faucets off and on and otherwise causing chaos.
But none of that was the real issue. The real issue was an uncomfortable truth I couldn’t deny anymore; one that filled me with guilt. Despite the inconvenience of living in a haunted house, I actually was fond of having Drake inside me. I looked forward to his constantly funny banter and childish excitement over modern conveniences. I enjoyed his advice while I shopped through dusty antique stores in search of forgotten treasures. I asked Drake his opinion on everything and I valued it. Drake’s keen eye for detail, and first-hand experience with early twentieth century decor, helped me immensely in my newfound profession. What was more, Drake had become my friend.
“You know,” I said, testing the waters with Ryan, “I’ve kind of gotten used to not having a haunted house…”
Ryan’s eyes grew darker. “Haunted house?” He pointed a finger at my chest. “Pey, you’re haunted. Am I supposed to pretend it doesn’t bother me that you have a man livin’ inside your head? Hell, you talk to him just as often as you talk to me, probably more!”
“That’s not true,” I started but then swallowed my words because it was true.
“I can tell when you’re talking with him, since it happens all the time,” Ryan argued. “Sometimes, I have to wonder which of us you’re really dating…”
“Ryan,” I said, putting my hand on his chest to calm him down, but he took a step back.
“Is he listening to us now?”
“No. It’s just us.” I took a deep breath to add something, but Ryan spoke first.
“This arrangement,” he said, waving his hand in my general direction, “was supposed to be temporary. I’m grateful for him protectin’ you, but you don’t need that anymore. You’ve got me.”
“Without Drake, I can’t help Jill and her mom. He’s the only reason why I can access the spirit world.”
Ryan didn’t say anything for a minute, but gazed at me with tired eyes. “I’m not sure if it would be such a bad thing if you stayed in the mortal realm.” Before I could reply, he put up his hand. “You’re startin’ up a new business and you’ve got more than enough on your plate without addin’ someone else’s problems.”
“I want to help them, Ryan.” I gave him a stern look to let him know I meant it. “I don’t even know if I can, but I want to try.”
“So when will it end, Peyton?” Ryan asked, his voice going low and soft, while his eyes stayed fixed on mine. “There’s always gonna be someone new wantin’ your help! With Trina’s big mouth, we both know that Jill and Ada won’t be the last people askin’ you for help.” Ryan looked straight into my eyes. “So tell me, Pey. Where does it end?”
The expression on his face made me anxious, and I wondered if he were giving me an ultimatum. I looked down at my hands, deciding what to say.
“Peyton.”
I swallowed and looked back up at his face, dreading what came out of his mouth next. For myself, I couldn’t say anything.
“I want us to be together.” He brushed back a strand of my hair. “That’s what I want.” His hand fell to his side. “But sometimes, I have to wonder if that’s what you want.”
“Of course I want that!” I answered quickly as my pulse raced and my hands went sweaty. The past couple of months with Ryan were amazing beyond words. He was thoughtful and kind, ambitious with his own dreams and equally supportive of mine. Too many times to count, he came over late at night and stayed up with me to discuss antique furniture and early twentieth century woodwork. Or popped in the library while I was studying to take me out to eat, only to return me to my books with a smile afterwards. And besides that, he was so damn gorgeous! Sometimes, like when I saw him first thing in the morning, his blond hair tousled, his bare, broad chest lying on my sheets, I’d think, How is this man mine? The thought of losing him filled me with apprehension and made my stomach churn with anxiety.
“Ryan…” I started, trying to think of what to say to ease his mind. “I know you don’t like having Drake around but it’s…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “temporary.” As much as I couldn’t bear to lose Ryan, I couldn’t imagine being without Drake either.
Ryan frowned as he watched my face. Jill coughed in the front room, reminding us of her presence.
“Look,” I said as I gazed up into his eyes. “I want to help Jill and her mom. And I need Drake to do that.”
He was quiet for a moment until he asked, “And then what?”
Thoughts clashed in my brain, but I centered on just one. Ryan wasn’t saying it outright, but making it very clear all the same: eventually, I had to choose between them. Ryan. Or Drake.
Drake wasn’t alive, only a spirit. Naturally, I couldn’t sacrifice the relationship I had with a very real, wonderful, amazing, flesh and blood human who was standing in front of me! Not for a voice in my head that was only that—a voice.
But every time I entered a dreamscape with Drake, felt the carpet under my bare feet, smelled the spicy, masculine cologne when I got close to him, and heard the way his movements filled the room that was somehow not real, I had to wonder: what if? My mind would only go that far, because I dared not let it go any further. I couldn’t. Not when I had Ryan and I knew that Drake was very much dead. But the implication remained: what if Drake were alive?
I shook my head, clearing the thoughts away. It was stupid to think things that could never come true.
“Then…” I said slowly, my voice going softer as I looked at Ryan. I had to force the words from my lips. “Then Drake leaves.”
Ryan studied my face, but finally said, “Okay.”
THREE
I told Jill and Ada that I had to meet some contacts who were more familiar with the supernatural than me before deciding if I could help them or not. We said goodbye with the promise that I would call them soon with an update. Ryan, still grumpy from our discussion about Drake, left soon afterwards to go to work, even though it was the weekend. He had a big job and a tight deadline, and after running into a problem late last night, he was off to fix things. However, he insisted on being present when I met with Lovie.
I sat tucked into the corner of my couch, my legs curled underneath me as I scrolled through the article I found on Dorothy Arnold. I kept trying not to think about what I’d agreed to concerning Drake. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him about it yet. But it was always in the back of my mind, especially during the moments when I felt thankful for Drake’s presence, whether it was to advise me on an antique or just to keep me company.
Drake and I didn’t really talk about him being a resident in my body very often. We’d gotten too comfortable with our arrangement, and it was almost hard for me to remember what it was like before he took up residence in my head.
Are you listening, mon amour?
“What?” I sat up straighter, trying to pull myself out of my thoughts.
I finished reading the page. Are you still reading?
“Oh, sorry, I zoned out.”
Is everything all right?
I bit my lip, trying to think of how I should start when my phone vibrated. Somewhat thankful for the interruption, I picked it up and swiped the screen. It was a text from Jill.
I just wanted to let you know, Mama doesn’t have long. She’s back in the hospital again. Treatment bought her some time, but not much. We would really appreciate your help with this.
Drake sighed dramatically. He’d read the text too.
I sighed too. What could I say to that?
I hesitated, but texted back: I’ll do everything I can.
“I shouldn’t waste any more time,” I said to myself rather than Drake. I brought the article about Dorothy back up on my phone. It was time to focus.
The case was baffling. Dorothy was from a well-to-do family, the daughter of a U.S. Senator. She disappeared on a sunny day in mid-December, 1910 in broad daylight, in the heart of Manhattan while on an all-day shopping excursion. Several friends and family members spotted her that day and stopped to chat with her, although none of them noticed anything wrong. Two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, Alice, Jill’s Memaw and presumably, Dorothy’s baby, would be abandoned at a hospital in Brooklyn.
The resemblance is unmistakable, Drake said when I scrolled past a picture of Dorothy.
“Yes,” I agreed, glancing at the picture Jill provided of Alice in her mid-twenties for comparison. The women had the same dark hair, wide and large dark eyes and pointed nose. Then I read more of the article. “She had a boyfriend, and spent a week with him in Boston during the summer. Several friends reported seeing them together that week. Dorothy told her parents she was visiting one of her girlfriends. Some of the friends who saw Dorothy and her boyfriend, George Griscom, said she eagerly disclosed they had recently gotten engaged. However, there was never any official announcement of it.”
In June, I see. She could have conceivably gotten pregnant then, although the child would have been born a few months early.
“Seems plausible.”
And it’s quite possible that he wooed her to his bed with the promise of an engagement as was common practice during that time…
“Was it really common practice, or just common practice for you?” I retorted with a laugh.
I would never resort to such ghastly tactics, but then again, I didn’t need to.
I snorted in response, but I knew he wasn’t stretching the truth or even bragging. Drake was just stating a fact. The ghost was dark and handsome, with chocolate brown hair and deep brown eyes to match. When he was alive, he was a police officer, and his broad, well-defined chest must have been quite an asset to the job. In addition to his drool-worthy appearance, he was quite the charmer. Yes, I was well aware of all Drake’s assets. And so was he.
But back to the article. Although Dorothy’s disappearance was thoroughly investigated, and her boyfriend meticulously questioned, no trace of her was ever found. Her boyfriend told an investigator that he was away on a family holiday when Dorothy disappeared, but the detectives later discovered that his parents left for the trip without him. He didn’t join them for several days. When he was subsequently questioned again, he told the police he’d been at home, sick. Many people, including the police, suspected he was directly involved with Dorothy’s disappearance but no evidence was discovered that could have indicted him. A neighbor later corroborated the boyfriend’s story, saying that he came by to check on the family’s house plants, and found George at home. He also claimed that George appeared to be ill.
Assuming Dorothy was pregnant with Alice, it seems like the boyfriend had to know something…
“Yes,” I agreed. “His story is suspicious for sure.” I took a breath as I thought of something else. “If no one knew she was pregnant, George could have conceivably gotten rid of her, that is, of course, assuming he didn’t want to marry her.”
Drake sighed. Perhaps her father murdered her, or had her killed after he learned of her pregnancy.
I felt my mouth drop open at the very thought of her father killing her. “Drake, what kind of monster would have his daughter, who was pregnant with his grandchild, murdered?”
It happens. He was a state senator, building a career on his projection of a perfect image. I remember a similar incident that occurred when I was a lawman.
“I don’t know. It seems a bit far-fetched, but I guess it’s a possibility. Maybe no one killed Dorothy and she just died during childbirth? Maybe those who knew about it covered it up to protect her honor. But regardless of all that, we still have no idea where she died. And that’s a problem. We can’t contact her spirit without knowing where she is.”
Hopefully, the priestess, Lovie will tell us more about that tonight.
“Yeah,” I said, as I scrolled back up to the picture of Dorothy. As I looked at her youthful face, I wondered where her spirit could be, and why she couldn’t communicate with Memaw Alice. If she had died during childbirth, and was stuck “reliving” her last moments of death over and over again, I couldn’t think of a more horrible existence. If that turned out to be the case, what would I tell Jill and her mom?
I know you wish to help, mon amour, Drake said softly, but some things are beyond our control, and this might be one of them.
I recalled the picture of Dorothy from my memory. “Even if she is stuck…” the thought slowly unfurled in my mind. “Maybe we could somehow…”
Even if you do face Guarda again, which as you know, I vehemently oppose, but even if you do, and you travel back in time, history cannot be altered, ma minette.
“I’m not saying that I would dare try to alter history, Drake,” I said, swallowing with a gulp as if he’d handed me a bitter pill. “My main interest is why; why is she stuck? Remember that article we read a while back, the one about the type of spirits who are trapped and doomed to relive the events of their death over and over? It’s usually because they’re obsessed about something, remember?”
Oui, I recall.
“Maybe if we dig a little and find out what happened to her, and what she was obsessing over, we could help her…” I didn’t finish the statement, and my voice trailed off. We couldn’t intervene on any level, I reminded myself. Tampering with any events of the past was an absolute no-no as it could potentially change the future.
We will see what the priestess has to say.
“Yes,” I said, trying to ignore the stark lack of hope in his voice. “We’ll see what Lovie says.”
***
I rehashed the story in its entirety: Memaw Alice had an obsession with finding her biological mother, who turned out to be Dorothy. Memaw’s death was followed by her daughter, Ada’s near death experience while undergoing the removal of a brain tumor. Ada’s temporary “death” allowed her to talk to her mother beyond the grave, and now, Ada and her daughter, Jill were requesting my help. I recounted the tale to Lovie, and everyone else sitting at my kitchen table, including the information Drake and I read about Dorothy. The boyfriend and his sketchy answers during the interrogation. The timing of Alice’s birth and Dorothy’s disappearance. The location where Dorothy was last seen and the place where Alice was found.
Now I sat watching every flicker of emotion on Lovie’s face, while anxiously hoping she would have a solution to make things right.
Lovie was clothed in her usual bright garb: a vivid, orange turban wrapped tightly around her head, a purple, flowing top under a fat belt made of wispy fabric covered in tiny, tinkling bells, and a floor-length skirt decorated with lilac and orange geometric shapes. Though she was nowhere near as powerful as Guarda, Lovie was the most experienced priestess I knew of in New Orleans. And Lovie offered another advantage, two magical beings for the price of one. That was because Lovie worked closely with a local warlock named Christopher, who was well-acquainted with the spiritual world. Christopher was about as far from friendly as he could be, but he was still very capable in the field of witchcraft and that was good enough for me.
Lovie folded her hands and rested them against her lips as her deep brown eyes focused on me.
“So what do you think?” I finally prodded her when the silence stretched on. Ryan was studying her with quiet intensity.
She looked at Christopher’s darkly painted lips as they drew into a thin line. He stood leaning against the entrance to the kitchen with one hand tucked under his elbow as he examined his painted black fingernails on his other hand. Like a cat, he always seemed disinterested in everything around him. He was a master at projecting ennui and he stressed it with each movement he made. His appearance never changed. A long, black cape hung down straight behind him, almost touching the floor and he always wore the same jet black ensemble: suit, pants, cape, and impeccably shined shoes. Whereas Lovie radiated warmth and friendliness, Christopher was the polar opposite.
I wondered if he had to have his cape dry-cleaned.
“If Alice couldn’t contact Dorothy, there’s really no question. That means Dorothy is just spiritual energy, trapped forever in her moment of death,” Christopher announced. I expected him to yawn, he looked so bored. As usual, he was unmoved and maybe even mildly annoyed as he straightened up and brushed off his pants. He acted as if we were wasting his time.
“Spiritual energy?” Ryan asked. “You mean to say… she’s not even a spirit? She’s just energy?”
“But Jill said Memaw Alice knew it was Dorothy,” I pointed out. “So how could she just be energy?”
“Some prefer to think of these types of spirits as nothing more than energy, since they seem to be incapable of thought or interaction,” Lovie said gently. “But technically, they are still spirits.”
“That’s debatable,” Christopher said with a shrug.
Lovie looked back at me, her eyes heavy with sadness. “Either way, I don’t think there’s much we can do.”
“What about when Samuel was blocked? What if it’s something like that?” I asked, still looking for any means in which I could help Jill and her mother.
Samuel was Lovie’s familiar. A strange creature, he traveled between the spirit realm and the physical world to provide Lovie with information. As Lovie’s companion, I could see him but only when I opened myself up to the spiritual world, using my connection through Drake. As far as Samuel being blocked, that happened when the demonic Axeman suppressed Samuel, rendering the familiar incapable of any communication with Lovie.
“Samuel was in the spirit world trying to connect to me in the physical world,” Lovie explained. “That is already a barrier in an’ of itself. But Dorothy an’ Memaw Alice were on the same side o’ things. If Alice couldn’t interact with Dorothy, there’s very little chance that we’d be able to.”
Christopher cleared his throat and we all looked up at him.
He glanced at Lovie, his eyes lacking any interest. “We would probably not be able to talk to Dorothy, but it isn’t completely outside the realm of possibility for someone to connect with her. Or it.” He stared at Lovie.
Lovie paused for a moment as she stared back. Her face angled down as she considered Christopher’s words, then she took a deep breath and straightened before looking back at me. “We have heard, although not entirely from reliable sources…” She glanced at Christopher and turned her attention to me again, “…of certain spirits that were caught in a state of trapped obsession disappearin’.”
“Disappearin’?” Ryan interjected.
“Yes,” Lovie said, continuing. “Disappearin’… completely.”
“What do you mean, ‘completely’?” Ryan asked slowly as he leaned forward.
Christopher answered for her. “There’s no trace of them, not here or in the spirit world. Like they just blinked right out of existence altogether.” Christopher snapped his fingers for emphasis.
“Maybe they moved elsewhere?” I suggested. “You know,” I waved my hand in the air, “beyond the light?”
Christopher prompted Lovie to speak with his imploring eyes. Clearly he wasn’t in an explaining mood.
“That’s what some people have speculated, but usually, when spirits move on, tryin’ to connect with them exposes you to all the energy of the universe. That’s because they’ve joined the energy of our mother, the universal energy we all carry. You can sense when they’ve moved on. In the cases we’re talkin’ about, the spirits just disappear. When you try to reach out to them, you get nothin’! No energy, no sense of passin’, nothin’ at all!”
At times like these, I am happy to be safely tucked inside you.
I felt the same way. The idea of Drake suddenly fizzle-popping out of existence wasn’t anything I wanted to consider.
“So what’s happening to them?” I pressed, looking from Lovie to Christopher.
“We don’t know,” Lovie answered.
“Who would?” I asked.
Christopher said only one word. “Guarda.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair.
“It’s sort of a shot in the dark, but she’d most likely have the right explanation,” Lovie said quietly. “She could also be the only one who’s capable of pullin’ those spirits free.”
Free? That doesn’t sound like the right word, Drake said.
“Wait, are you saying you think Guarda is the one who’s making them disappear?” I asked, leaning forward as I stared at Lovie.
Lovie shrugged. “Guarda possesses incredible power.”
“But why would she want to make spirits disappear?” Ryan asked.
“Who knows!” Christopher snapped as if the answer were already apparent. “Why does Guarda do anything she does? Only she can tell you why.” He paused for a moment. “Not that she ever would.”
“Why would you suggest that Guarda was the force behind spirits disappearing?” I chose to reword my question.
“Because spirits have been disappearing all over N’Orleans,” Lovie responded with a sigh. “Spirits we’ve relied on for years, along with spirit guides who facilitate us in successfully reaching those on the other side. They’ve simply vanished without a trace.” She swallowed hard.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
“Since we’ve started noticing it?” Lovie asked as I nodded. “Maybe a couple o’ months.”
“It is also possible that,” Christopher straightened before going into lecture mode, “these spiritual energies carry an expiration date. People died more often and more violently in less civilized times. The rate of untimely death has naturally slowed, which could explain why these energies seem to be extinguishing around the same time.”
I wasn’t buying that explanation. “What is Guarda doing with the spirits?” I asked Lovie.
“If we knew that, we wouldn’t be wildly speculating,” Christopher answered, his voice full of snarkiness and spite.
“The truth is, we don’t know. But we’re guessin’ it’s not good,” Lovie replied.
Silence descended around the table as the weight of the conversation sank in.
“If we talked to Guarda…”
“Peyton, that’s out of the question!” Ryan said, shaking his head.
I put my hand to my chest. “Do you think I want to go back to her? Me? I’m the one who had to endure her last time.”
“And I was the one who watched what she did to you,” Ryan said, anger beginning to simmer in his eyes.
And I can still feel how it affects you, Drake added. I feel it the same as you, ma minette.
“What if someone you loved was stuck like Dorothy is?” I stared into Ryan’s eyes, weighing my words as I spoke, “reliving her untimely death, over and over…”
Ryan’s jaw clenched as he stared back at me, but he didn’t take the bait. “But it’s not someone I love,” he said slowly. “You’re the person I love and I don’t want you doin’ something that could get you hurt, or worse…”
All romantic posturing aside, Drake began and his tone was dismissive, if Guarda does have nefarious intentions for these stuck spirits, what’s to stop her from harming Dorothy? Technically, we would be leading her right to Dorothy, mon chaton.
I closed my eyes and put my face in my hands. “This isn’t fair; not when it’s two against one.”
“We found another way to help Peter without going to Guarda,” Ryan said, noticeably ignoring my mention of Drake. “So why would we need Guarda this time?”
“Believe me,” I said, “if there’s any way we can do this without involving Guarda, I’m all ears. But I don’t see how that’s possible. Maybe you two have some ideas?” I looked at Lovie and Christopher.
They looked at each other, Lovie searching Christopher’s face while he gazed back, his arms folded snugly across his chest.
Christopher finally shrugged, and Lovie turned back to me. “If you wanna help, an’ no one would blame you for walkin’ away, but if you wanna do somethin’, Guarda would be your only option.” She took a deep breath. “Given all the facts about Dorothy’s spirit, it’s beyond our abilities.”
“Peyton?” Ryan started, but when his eyes met mine, his voice faded.
“I have to do something. I can’t say no to them in good conscience—and I keep thinking what if my grandmother’s soul got stuck?” I said softly, realizing I’d already made the painful decision.
Ryan looked away, his jaw tight when he looked back at me. Something told me he’d caved and I knew I’d won. “I’m going with you.”
“Of course,” I said quickly, even if I weren’t exactly thrilled to have him near Guarda. Last time we saw her was the first time she met Ryan, and she took a rather unhealthy interest in him. Even more troubling, when Lovie asked how much we owed for Guarda’s services, Guarda replied she’d already been paid in full while practically drooling over Ryan. None of us knew what that meant. Naturally, it still bothered me because Guarda was the type of person who never did anything for free.
“Not just to Guarda’s house,” Ryan said evenly. “If your search for Dorothy involves another foray back into the past, I’m going with you this time.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The idea of Guarda working her magic on Ryan worried me. I almost felt violated. And not entirely because of what I suffered under her supervision, but also what I saw firsthand. I knew what she’d done to Peter.
Before I could stop it, the image of Guarda and Peter having sex flashed in my brain, but instead of Peter mindlessly thrusting into her, it was Ryan!
For the love of God, why would you torture me with such images?
Ignoring Drake’s outburst, my response to Ryan’s demand was, “No.”
Ryan’s posture tightened as he inhaled a deep breath, but before he could move, Lovie interrupted.
“I can see the benefit of Peyton havin’ help, should she go back in time, but it can’t be you, Ryan. Peyton can only travel between the realms because of Drake.”
Ryan’s lips pressed into a line as he sat back against his chair while he looked at me, his normally sunny eyes growing dark with frustration.
“I think I might have an idea though,” Lovie said. “Since we’re going to Guarda’s anyway…”
Ryan scowled.
“Guarda may be able to send Drake back in time with you, Peyton,” Lovie finished, turning to face me.
The relief that swept through me made me feel a little guilty.
If you must go under Guarda’s magic again, I insist that you take me with you, Drake said.
“Now, I’m not positive, but…” Lovie turned to Christopher, “…it’s theoretically possible, seein’ as it’s the spirit that gets sent back in time, and Drake could be physically present, just like you would be, Peyton.”
“Interesting idea,” Christopher commented, his features lightening considerably in a pensive expression.
My eyebrows rose in surprise.
Is this really possible? Drake’s voice came in a rush of excitement. I would be with you, as if I were still in the flesh? Back in my own time once again?
“You mean,” I paused abruptly when I heard the enthusiasm in my voice, “Drake could come with me? As opposed to being inside me?” I asked more neutrally.
The scowl on Ryan’s face deepened and I kicked myself for my choice of words.
If this distresses you, mon chaton, Drake purred, I’m sure we could find an alternate way for me to be inside …
Shut. Up. I lowered my face as the heating sensation spread across my cheeks. Drake’s laughter in my head made me start to roll my eyes, but I caught myself.
“I think so,” Lovie said, “But there’s only one way to find out.”
FOUR
I shut the door behind Lovie and Christopher as they left and silence quickly descended over the house. I didn’t turn around right away to face Ryan; the weight of his mood filled the air with tension.
“Peyton?” His deep voice was measured and serious. Drake was quiet. I thought I owed Ryan some privacy and knew he wouldn’t like to have an audience, so I shut Drake out. Then I turned to Ryan, and my eyes settled on his face. It looked very different with the stern expression on it.
“Ryan, think about the anxiety those women must suffer, lying awake at night, knowing their loved ones aren’t where they’re supposed to be,” I started but Ryan shook his head. “Imagine if that were Elizabeth,” I persisted, nearly startling myself in the process. The color immediately drained from Ryan’s face and he took a step away from me. I realized too late that I’d gone too far.
“Don’t ever bring my wife into something like this again!” he said, clenching his teeth in obvious pain.
The way he said “my wife” surprised me and I felt something lurch in my chest. It almost seemed as if she were still here. “I just thought…” I said softly, trying to figure out a way to explain my compulsion to help Dorothy and spare her from reliving her death, if that’s where she truly was stuck. I was only intending to relate it to something he knew, i.e., the loss of his wife. “Dorothy belonged to someone. She had a family. People loved her too.”
“I know what you were doing,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. “Don’t ever use Elizabeth again, not as a means to an end.”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. What could I say to that? “That’s not what I meant,” I started.
“What happened to Elizabeth can’t be compared to what happened to Dorothy and Alice. They have absolutely nothing in common,” Ryan continued, the anger rising in his tone.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I replied honestly.
“Offend me?” he said, astonished. “You didn’t offend me, Peyton, you sideswiped me!”
Elizabeth died in a tragic accident at one of Ryan’s work sites barely six years after they were married. He hardly ever spoke of her now, but in the beginning of our relationship, he was more than hesitant to get involved with me. He wasn’t over her untimely death, even though years had passed since the accident. It was always obvious to me that he loved her deeply, but seeing the fire now in his eyes, which he aimed at me, painfully confirmed that in a way he hadn’t before.
As my brow furrowed, I lowered my face. “Okay,” I said gently as I tried to banish the uncomfortable realization from my thoughts and shield my bruised heart. “But you act like I want to involve Guarda. And I don’t.” I looked back up at him, reminding myself to stay strong. I had to keep the hurt out of my eyes. “I just want to help Jill and her mother.”
As Ryan studied my face, he sighed and looked away. “I know you do.” He put his hands on his hips and stood motionless for a moment, probably lost in his thoughts.
I struggled, trying to think of what to say or do to cut the tension. I wasn’t used to such hostility. Since Ryan started working again, he was gone a lot, so when we finally got to see each other, we tried to make good use of our time. And this wasn’t what I would call “good.”
“I just don’t like any of this, Pey,” he said, his voice much softer. His eyes were big and worried as they settled on mine.
“Well,” I said, eagerly seizing the shift in mood I sensed from the tender tone of his words. I stepped forward and slid my hands up to his chest before placing a barely-there kiss on his lips. I didn’t want to fight with him. That was the last thing I wanted. No, I wanted to be close to him, so I could explain to him why I needed to do this.
He gazed steadily into my eyes, although he didn’t make any moves to hold me.
“Why don’t we just think about it tomorrow?” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until I could feel the heat of him through our clothes. “I’m sorry about… everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know you didn’t,” he answered, his voice gruffer. “You don’t have it in you to hurt anyone.” He sighed heavily. “But she’s still a tender subject for me.”
“And that’s okay,” I said as I pulled away and sandwiched his face between my palms. “She was special to you, Ryan, and she always will be.”
He nodded as his hands automatically found my hips and his jaw tightened. Then his face lowered to the inside of my neck and he kissed me slowly before releasing an agonized breath. “And you are also incredibly special to me, Peyton,” he said as he pulled me closer and I reveled in his maleness. I suddenly needed him in a purely physical way. I longed for him to make love to me.
“Stay tonight?” I whispered softly in his ear.
“I’ll stay,” he answered, his breath tickling my skin and sending a wave of heat through me. With a soft groan, he grasped my bottom in both hands and picked me up.
I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist as he proceeded toward the stairs. I listened to his breathing accelerate, and while he strode up the stairs, I planted kisses along his neck. As soon as we safely arrived at the top of the staircase, I wanted to see just how determined he was to make it to my room.
I took his face in my hands and pulled his mouth on mine, parting his lips with my tongue before I began to explore it. Ryan inhaled sharply and stumbled, but managed to regain his footing before we went sprawling. I had to temporarily unlatch my mouth from his because I was grinning too much to keep up my kissing attack. He paused and took in my expression, his smile now devilish. Then in one swift moment, he turned and pressed me up against the wall. Grinding his hips into mine, he made me ache between my legs. I was throbbing with an intense need to be filled. Moaning, I let the back of my head fall against the wall and surrendered to him before he overwhelmed me.
We usually took our time with our love making, drawing out our excitement until we were both shaking with anticipation. But this was not one of those times. Ryan tugged off my pants and slid inside me in one swift stroke. The delicious sensation, as well as the shock of it, made me wonder how he managed to remove his pants so quickly. In seconds, my thoughts were consumed by the feeling of having him deep inside me, pressing my back hard against the wall with his body. He pulled out briefly, then re-entered me.
I moaned again, but the sound died in my throat when his mouth locked onto mine. My fingers were tangled up in his hair, digging into the tightly coiled muscles of his back as he drove himself deep inside me, over and over. The blissful moments were replaced by waves of sweet release, pulsing through my core and I felt every muscle in my body relaxing. Ryan’s tongue went from urgent to tender as he played with my lips.
When all the tension was drained from both of us, he rested his forehead against mine. His chest rhythmically rose and fell with each deep breath he took. I wanted to stay like that forever, his body pressed inside me, the glistening sweat from his skin mixing with mine, his intoxicating smell that was so distinct filling me up with each breath.
Gently easing me away from the wall, he didn’t put me down, but carried me the rest of the way to the bedroom. I heard the rustle of blankets when he flung them back before he lowered me onto the bed. An instant later, I was completely wrapped up by him, his chest was pressed against my back, and one of his legs was draped over both of mine. I cherished the sounds of his contented breathing in my ear and closed my eyes to take it all in, reveling in the safety I felt by being surrounded by him.
I’d never felt that way with a man before: safe, protected, cherished, and wanted. All at once. It was always like that after we made love, regardless of whether it was tender and sweet, even when we went at each other like a couple of horny teenagers. I always ended up in his arms, feeling lazy and wonderful. Thankfully, it was nothing like my past marriage. Sex with my ex was just another item on my to-do list. Another unsatisfying task I’d legally committed myself to perform whenever he demanded it from me. At least, it hadn’t usually lasted very long.
Everything was still new with Ryan, and sometimes, I wondered if it were real, and if it could last. Would I blow it somehow? Would it fade with time? It just didn’t seem possible, especially after observing Ryan’s healthy sexual appetite only growing more insatiable as the weeks turned into months. At times, I was almost thankful for the break when he had to work overtime. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure we would’ve starved to death. Not to mention, the sleep deprivation! I was convinced I was turning into a zombie. One time, I even woke up in the foyer after I apparently sleepwalked through the house.
Although, what could I say? Ryan’s enthusiasm was more than inspiring, and one look at his gloriously naked body was more than enough to put me up for the task of filling his ravenous appetite.
Ryan’s fingers trailed up my arm, tickling my skin, then he squeezed my bicep and kissed my shoulder.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he murmured in the silence.
I swallowed as I recalled his fierce loyalty to Elizabeth’s memory. I couldn’t really fault him for it though. He was a good man. And from everything I’d heard, she was a good woman. And they loved each other. But just because he loved her didn’t mean he had no love left for me. I had no doubt he loved me.
“It’s okay,” I answered, my voice sounding sleepy.
A moment passed, and I could tell by the tightness in his arms that there was more he wanted to say.
He sighed, letting out a slow exhale as if he were releasing some frustration, then he kissed my shoulder again. “I know you want to do this. And I understand.” His lips pressed another sweet kiss onto the skin of my shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“I know you’re scared. I’m scared too.” His voice fell to a whisper. “And I’m glad you won’t be alone.”
My eyes glistened with emotion as his words sunk in. He actually listened to me! He did understand. And despite his resentment toward Drake, he was willing to put those feelings aside if it helped me.
“Thank you,” I whispered back, my heart full of love for this man.
His lips moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck, and I snuggled deeper into him, pressing my rear into the warmth of his pelvis. The length of him throbbed behind me as his hand slid under my arm to take hold of my breast.
Like I said, the man was insatiable. But then again, maybe I was too.
I arched my body against his as we woke up to the heat that ignited our insides. For some reason, I was absolutely sure that this feeling, our new reality, would be around for a very long time.