Ashley got to her feet, studying the woman’s outfit. Although the blouse and tweed skirt were rather typical Scottish, it was modern. Her bob haircut and her makeup were both from this decade. She was recently dead. “I don’t know what happened, but we’ll find out.”
“What is it?” Cristian asked. He’d never been able to see ghosts well. While ghosts could be as real as living humans to her, to Cristian ghosts had been a mere shadow, a whisper of something more. And since he’d became human, his abilities to see spirits had all but disappeared. Fortunately his keen intuition and his extra human strength remained.
“It’s a … woman. She’s… dead.”
“Dead?” the woman whispered, her lower lip trembling.
She was forty, perhaps, dark hair around her oval face. Refined at one time, now an emotional mess, but death would do that to a person. The woman gasped, pressing her hands to her lips and sinking to the ground once more. Despite the fact that Ashley had encountered death repeatedly, the woman’s sobs were heart-wrenching.
“I’m so sorry,” Ashley whispered.
“What happened?” Cristian demanded.
“He pretended to need help… We let him in because he looked kind, wealthy…” She shook her head, looking up at Ashley for answers. “My husband? Have you seen him? He tried to protect me—”
“Oh God,” Ashley said. She didn’t sense another ghost. Was the man dead? Alive? Had he for some reason moved onto heaven while his wife hadn’t? “Where is he?”
The woman shook her head, confusion crumpling her face.
“What is it?” Cristian demanded, unable to hear the woman’s words.
Ashley turned toward him. “She had a husband.”
A loud crash shook the ceiling above them, the crystal chandelier trembling, much like her nerves. Fanfreakingtastic, the fun was about to begin. “The husband?”
“I don’t think so. I think whoever killed her is still here.”
“Talk about overstaying your welcome,” Ashley mumbled.
Cristian’s powers had become dull since he’d turned human. What if his father, the demon, was still here? The woman ghost whimpered, obviously not realizing that as she was already dead, she had nothing left to fear.
“Stay here,” Cristian demanded. He pulled the sword from the scabbard strapped to his back, the metal whispering against the leather.
“No way.” Ashley rested her hand on his arm. “Cristian, you can’t go alone. You might need me.”
“If I need ye, I’ll call.” He moved into the foyer and up the steps before she had time to talk sense into his thick head. Always the damn angel, trying to protect others.
“Like hell you will,” Ashley whispered, rushing after him.
He’d made it to the second floor by the time she started up the curved stairs. She hesitated at the top of the steps, turning her senses inward. Cristian’s powers might have dulled, but hers were in prime working order. Even though she wore jeans and a sweater, a chill shiver of awareness raised the fine hairs on her neck. Not a ghost, but … something else.
The hall was long and dark, the windows few and far between. A building so old, parts had obviously been added on at a later date. Ashley took in a deep breath and focused. Where was the woman’s husband?
The sound of a muffled cry had her stumbling over her own feet; the cry of desperation, of pain, of torture. Her palms grew damp, but Cristian’s footsteps were quiet and sure as he followed the hall and turned left. Always a warrior, he held no fear for his own life. The idiot would get himself killed one of these days. Ashley followed, catching up to him around the corner. He paused outside the only door in the short hall and held out his arm, silently telling her to stay put.
“What do you sense?” she whispered.
He jerked his head toward the door. “Open it,” he said softly.
She shoved her palm into the wooden door and stepped aside, flattening her back to the hallway wall and out of Cristian’s way. But Cristian didn’t burst in, guns, or sword, blazing. Instead, he merely stood in the hall, his gaze pinned to the room beyond. Although there was no indication of emotion upon his face, she knew instinctively something was horribly wrong.
“Cristian?”
He didn’t respond.
Slowly, Ashley turned, facing the room.
Red.
Brilliant scarlet splashed across the room as if someone had taken a bucket of paint and tossed it to the white walls. But it was no paint.
“Oh hell,” she whispered, her knees going weak. Horrifying. Her stomach churned and bile rose to her throat as the room wavered in and out of focus. Not just death, but murder…torture. The entire room smelled of rot and decay, although the woman was recently deceased.
“Stay back, and this time I mean it.” Cristian moved into the room, his sword in hand.
Ashley sank back against the hallway wall, her knees buckling. Never had she seen anything like it, and she’d seen a lot of shitty things in her life. She knew the demon wasn’t here. They’d be fighting for their lives by now if Cristian’s father had still been in the castle. But it was obvious something was in that bedroom.
The woman ghost suddenly appeared next to Ashley. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“No. I don’t think so.” If he was dead, he’d be here, a watchful ghost, wouldn’t he?
A loud crash vibrated the floorboards. Ashley darted into the room, ignoring Cristian’s demand to stay put. He stood at the far side, a large four poster bed between them. But it was the woman’s body that lay prone across the mattress that caught Ashley’s immediate attention. Her limbs were bent at odd angles, her white blouse soaked with blood and her eyes… her wide eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling.
Ashley’s heart thundered madly as she stumbled toward that large, four poster bed. Blood had soaked the brown duvet, making a dark stain across the material. So much blood. A scene from a horror movie. She didn’t need to wipe away the blood covering the woman’s face, she recognized the tweed skirt and that brown hair.
Ashley spun around, peering through the doorway. The spirit stood there, just over the threshold, staring at her own body, the horror written quite plainly across her ghostly face.
“I’m…dead?” she asked again, as if the realization was just sinking in.
Ashley started toward her, intent on comforting the ghost when Cristian cried out. She spun around just in time to witness him swipe his sword forward, hitting something with a thud. A ferocious growl vibrated through the room.
“Hell, we’re not alone.” Ashley raced around the bed but came up short when she spotted the scene that had been hidden by the furniture. A skeletal gray beast crouched on the floor, his red eyes glaring up at Cristian. Scraggly black hair hung from his head and framed a narrow face covered in blood. Shredded bits of flesh hung from the beast’s long, knobby hands. Spotting her, he lifted his thin lips and growled, flashing sharp teeth. The horrible scent was coming from the beast.
“Oh Christ,” she whispered, switching her attention from the animal to the body on the ground before the beast. A man lay upon the floor, his chest ripped open. White ribs curved around his torso, pink flesh clinging to the bone. And there… just below the ribs, she could see his heart pumping. He was still alive.
The ghost woman screamed, a horrifying sound that Ashley knew she would remember for the rest of her life. Cristian lifted his sword and swung it in a wide arc toward the demon’s head. Ashley started forward, intending to help the man on the floor. Unfortunately, she felt her foot catch on the rug. Off balance, she tumbled to the ground.
“Ashley, get the hell out of here,” Cristian demanded.
She lifted her head and caught sight of a pistol lying hidden under the bed. Frantic, she surged forward, wrapping her left hand around the cold steel. A high-pitched screech vibrated from behind her. Ashley rolled to her back, facing the door. Another gray monster leapt through the ghost woman, directly into the room.
Ashley lift
ed the pistol and squeezed the trigger. The bullet sent the beast backward, stumbling into the hall and falling to the floor in a ghastly heap.
Cristian leapt over the bed, kneeling on the ground beside her, his silver sword in hand. “Are ye all right?”
Ashley nodded. “We have to help him!” She dropped the pistol and stumbled to her feet, bolting toward the man who lay upon the ground.
Cristian latched onto her arm, drawing her to a stop. “Ashley, it’s too late.”
“No, we need to help him.” She jerked away and fell to her knees next to the man. The heart was still, the man’s eyes closed. A familiar shiver of unease whispered across her skin. She turned. The woman ghost was gone. The house was silent. They’d moved onto the other side together, nothing keeping them here. They no longer suffered. It should have made her feel better. It didn’t. This shouldn’t have happened.
“What was it?” Ashley asked, looking at the gray beast laying still in the hall. She needed a name for something that could be so horrible.
“A Mortis Demon, they feed off the dead. They’re scavengers.” Cristian picked up a plaid blanket and swiped his sword clean. “Humans often mistake them for Zombies.”
Ashley managed to get to her feet, although her legs still trembled like a toddler just learning to walk. “You’re saying they didn’t kill the couple?”
“No.”
He didn’t need to finish. She knew who had killed them. The spell had worked. The demon had returned to earth. Cristian’s father had tortured the couple for no reason.
“I…I’m tired of death. I want a normal life… with you.”
Cristian wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close, his strength and scent comforting. “I know. But it won’t be normal until we find him, Ashley. We can only have a life once he’s dead.”
She nodded, hardening her heart, walling up her emotions. There would be time crumble later. Clenching her jaw, she stepped out of his embrace. “Where to next? Devon’s home?”
If the demon had returned, certainly Devon had as well. One small ray of light in this nightmare.
Cristian shook his head. “He won’t go after Devon.”
“Then where?”
Cristian slid his sword into the sheath on his back. “He’s gone after the person who took his life. He’s gone after me.”
Unease tiptoed down her spine. “You mean… the pub?”
Cristian nodded.
Sickening panic twisted her gut. “Camile could be there. Rose. The entire town. They won’t be prepared to take on your father.”
“Which is why we need to leave now.”
Chapter 16
“Concentrate,” Rose snapped, her voice raking across Ellie’s already frayed nerves.
She resisted the urge to glare at the woman. How she despised the old witch. Yeah, she might know what she was doing, but she didn’t have to be such a … witch about it. Still, Devon and Kipps, who stood some ten feet away, didn’t seem bothered. Miranda had merely laughed when Ellie had complained about Rose.
What was it about the woman that rubbed her the wrong way? Those beady eyes that seemed to peer into her soul? The way she talked to her like she was a moron? That constant frown? Seriously, she should introduce Rose to Lord Templeton, a match made in Heaven.
“Ready?” Devon asked.
God’s truth, she wanted to be able to control her powers. She wanted to be able to protect herself. But a woman could do only so much. Ellie took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. At first she heard only the birds chirping in the distance, the rustle of leaves. Felt only the warm breeze coming from the lake just below the garden. For a moment she knew only peace.
Just when she thought nothing would happen, she felt the slightest tingle in her fingers and toes. A warm tingle that moved up her arms and legs, thrumming as if in time with her heartbeat. She knew immediately the feeling was their powers, Devon and Kipps. Their very essence soaking into her being, entwining with her soul.
She knew Devon’s radiant power, could differentiate his sensation from Kipps’ darker, more aggressive vampire energy sinking heavily into her being. While Devon… Devon was light, was magic, was love. Her heartbeat accelerated, her palms grew damp and the world faded away. But as their powers entwined, racing through her torso and head, invading her cells, it became too much.
A thumping pain flared at the base of her skull. Ellie flinched. Too much, they were too strong and together, they were too powerful for her body.
“Ye’ve got them,” Rose said, her voice echoing inside Ellie’s mind, mumbled words that it took a moment for her brain to decipher.
Ellie didn’t bother to respond. She wasn’t even sure if she could respond. Sweat sprung out on her forehead and her muscles felt on fire. How could this happen? How could she not be able to control her own body? Would she forever be forced to hide for fear of taking on too many powers? She’d been sick so often as a child; colds, the flu. Maybe it hadn’t been a virus at all.
“Such a weak, ill child,” her first foster mother had said.
“Alright then,” Rose called out, her voice like cymbals in her head. “I need ye to slowly build that mental wall, bring up your own essence, your own powers, and shove their powers back at them just like ye did with Devon the other day.”
Easier said than done. She felt like she was drowning in quicksand. Her lungs heavy, her breathing harsh. Mentally, she clawed her way through the murk and darkness of their powers, but she felt like she was dying in tar. Panic set in.
She opened her eyes, the world so bright she actually cringed. “I…I can’t!” She gasped for air as she searched for the crystal.
“It’s all right.” Devon suddenly appeared, the necklace in hand. Without pause, he placed the cool crystal around her neck.
Instant relief washed over her as the piece fell between her breasts. It was like a cool winter breeze on a hot summer day. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her mind cleared, her body grew light. Pure heaven.
She sank into Devon’s hard form, pressing the side of her face to his chest. “I can’t.”
“Rest for a moment.” He led her toward the stone bench near the tree line.
Knees weak, she sank onto the seat without argument.
“That’s all right,” Camile called out, strolling toward them, Miranda at her side.
Even in her exhausted state, Ellie noticed the two women were close, a little too close for people who had just met a week ago. Were they dating? The thought brought a grin to her lips. Lord, she needed something else to think about other than impending doom and destruction. And she liked Camile and her ready smile, even if Devon seemed leery.
“Try again,” Camile urged.
“She’s exhausted,” Devon snapped, his annoyance almost palpable. She would have been touched by his protectiveness, but she knew he was merely trying to pick a fight with Camile. “She needs a break.”
“I’m just trying to protect her too, Devon,” Camile returned. “If she can’t control her powers, she’ll not survive!”
Miranda started across the back lawn toward Ellie. “They don’t seem to like each other,” she whispered, settling on the bench.
Ellie had been thinking the same thing. What was Devon’s problem with the young witch? They stood about a foot from each other, both practically foaming at the mouth as they argued about what to teach her next. While she, the person who should care the most, cared the least. Blocking their powers was exhausting, drained her body of energy. Sure, she wanted to win this battle, but she needed a break.
“The way she talked about him, I assumed they were friends,” Miranda said. The brilliant morning sun turned her dark hair into polished ebony. She looked happy, in love. At the least, in like. It was amazing what mutual attraction could do to a person. Did she look as glowing around Devon?
“He doesn’t trust her, for some reason,” Ellie explained.
“That’s ridiculous,” Miranda rushed out, her defensiv
e attitude a bit telling.
Ellie grinned and slid her friend a sly glance. “What else did you talk about?”
Miranda glanced surprisingly at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it was quite a long drive here.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just wondering what you chatted about during those many, many hours.”
Miranda flushed. “Nothing.” She was silent for a moment, her dark gaze pinned to Camile. “Honestly, I’m not even sure if she’s straight or gay.”
Ellie smirked. So funny how Miranda was oblivious to the way Camile acted around her. “She’s gay.”
Was that hope that glistened in her friend’s eyes? She scooted closer to Ellie. “Why do you say that?”
A warm, spring breeze swept across the garden, sending pink petals from a nearby apple tree through the air like confetti. “Because of the way she keeps looking at you.” Of course, right now the only one Camile was looking at was Devon, and she looked as if she might like to kill him.
“You…you think she likes me?”
Her friend might seem hard on the outside, but Ellie knew the truth. Miranda was as soft as caramel in the center.
Ellie leaned down, picking a brilliant yellow daffodil growing in crops around the bench. “I know so.” She smelled the rich perfume, then handed Miranda the flower. Of course, what did it matter if Camile and Miranda fell in love? What did any of it matter? If they didn’t stop the demon, no one need worry about silly things like dating.
“So,” Miranda sighed, staring up at the gray clouds that loomed low on the horizon. “You’re magical or something.”
Ellie shrugged. “Or something.”
“When did it start?”
Ellie laughed. “When I was born.”
Miranda smelled the flower, then tucked it behind her ear. “It’s why you were so closed off about your past.”
Ellie paused for a moment, letting the breeze cool her sweaty skin, giving herself time to gather her thoughts. “I believed I was insane. I thought there was something wrong with me. Then finally, I thought everyone else was crazy. How could they not see what I saw? After I grew older, I was more worried about self-preservation. I needed to learn how to protect myself from those who didn’t understand. I certainly couldn’t explain to anyone.”