Suddenly, the world exploded. Red light burst from the coffin, the force of the energy slamming Ashley against the wall. Hell had literally broken loose. She held tightly to the bottle even as her head crashed so hard against the wall that stars danced before her eyes. The rough rock scraped against the side of her face as she slumped toward the ground.
Heat, so much heat. The red light pulsed through the room, vibrant, harsh, hissing across her skin like a fiery snake. Their nightmare come to life once more. Ashley cried out, shifting, squirming, but the burning pain didn’t ease. Murmured voices grew from the light, words she didn’t understand, Latin coming from a demon. Time was racing by, their moment vanishing. She had to do something. Ashley stumbled to her feet, ignoring the pain of her sensitive flesh.
“They’re separating!” Cristian called out over the roar of wind. “Be ready!”
Gold and red light parted like the Dead Sea. Forgetting her fear and pain, Ashley froze, her heart slamming wildly. In that light, Devon’s soul cried out for help. He was there, she could sense him. She had to save him. An odd calmness swept through her very being.
“Ashley,” Cristian said, but he was barely visible through the blindingly brilliant light. “Throw the water!”
She lifted the bottle high.
From the light, two forms separated, twisting, turning through the air like separate, colorful tornados. She focused on the golden light, knew it was Devon’s soul. It was time. This might be their last chance. The sooner they got it over with, the better.
“Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,” she whispered and dove into the storm.
Hitting the light was like hitting water. Her body slammed against the surface, hovering for one brief moment, then slowly…slowly sinking into the eye of the hurricane. Ashley hit the ground with a thud. She didn’t dare take the time to regain her bearings.
“Mother Earth and Father Moon, take Devon home where he belongs!” she demanded.
Ashley tossed the water high. The droplets were sucked into the whirlwind, spinning and twisting like crystals suspended around her. The howl grew, pounding against her eardrums, beating against her skull so she thought the bone would crack. With a cry, Ashley fell to her knees, the empty bottle pattering to the ground and rolling away. She’d done it, she’d done what she could for him.
“Ashley!” Vaguely she was aware of Cristian bursting through the light.
Warm, solid arms wrapped around her, pulling her to a hard body. Ashley sank into Cristian’s chest and held tight, her anchor in the storm. Just as suddenly as it had come, the light faded, taking with the roar of the wind.
Darkness fell.
The silence was overwhelming, ringing in her ears until she thought she’d go crazy. But she couldn’t move, didn’t want to leave Cristian’s embrace.
“It’s over,” he said, breathing softly against the side of her face.
Was it?
She scanned the darkness, seeing no movement, hearing not a sound. If it was over, why didn’t she feel relieved? Ashley swallowed hard and dared to pull away from Cristian’s solid presence.
It was easy. Too damn easy. If there was one thing she’d learn in life, it was that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.
Slowly, she moved away from Cristian. The flashlight lay some feet away upon the floor, their only source of light, a brilliant beam that sliced through the darkness.
She was trembling, chilled, even though sweat trailed down the sides of her face. “He’s gone?”
“Aye. They’re both gone.”
She nodded, knowing that, at least, was true. She could sense no energy in the room. It was oddly still. Devon and the demon were gone. But gone where?
Cristian kissed her forehead. “It’s over.”
She wanted to believe him. How desperately she wanted to believe him, but deep in the pit of her belly she had the feeling it had only just begun.
Chapter 2
Cumbria, England
There was no doubt about it, Ellie’s life was a cosmic joke.
A bad sitcom that refused to end. And apparently nothing had changed since leaving the familiarity of the U.S. and taking a job in England. Another country, another culture… all the same. Ridiculousness followed her even across the wide expanse of the ocean. But this—this newest episode in the comedy of errors that was her life—definitely took the prize.
She thought about nudging Miranda, but decided that interrupting her coworker mid-speech would only draw unwanted attention from the small crowd gathered on the front lawn. Best to keep everyone oblivious as long as possible. Thank God for the cloak of night.
“And some say,” Miranda said to the clueless tour, “he still haunts the place even to this very day.”
There were a few ooohs and aaahs as the visitors mulled over the possibility of the former owner haunting the estate. If they only knew what really lurked behind them, those ooohs and aaahs would turn into screams of outrage, or even worse, horrified laughter.
Miranda’s speech finished, Eloise finally nudged her in the side and gave a discreet nod toward the man stumbling through the grass behind their group. Miranda followed Eloise’s gaze, confusion marring her elegant face. Spotting the man, her almond shaped eyes widened. The shock upon her face was priceless. Ellie looked away, giving a discreet cough to cover her laughter.
“Feel free to study the statue,” Miranda blurted to the crowd, pointing at the life-sized marble icon of the former owner that stood beside them.
“What the…” Miranda whispered.
“Hell?” Ellie added.
They so didn’t get paid enough to deal with this. As the visitors strolled around the grounds, dipping their fingers into the fountain in the middle of the garden, their shadows barely visible against the dark background of night, Eloise leaned close to Miranda, attempting to draw the least amount of attention she could. As if the huge Victorian gowns they wore didn’t draw enough attention. Lord Templeton insisted they dress in character to make the tours more authentic.
“Miranda, I’m not seeing things, right?” It was a legitimate question, for she had, upon occasion, seen things others didn’t. Her first foster family had called her insane. Perhaps, but she’d learned to accept her insanity, which was more than she could say for most people.
Miranda shook her head, the dark, silky bun at the back of her neck falling into a lopsided donut. “Nope. That’s one naked arse of a man.”
Ellie pulled the straw bonnet from her head and tossed it to the iron bench surrounded by fragrant daffodils. “Probably hazing from the university.”
She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. She resigned herself to sighing long and loud, thankful that their small tour of five was focused on the statue and hadn’t noticed the man stumbling around like a naked mole rat that had seen too much light.
As if she hadn’t enough to deal with. Lord Templeton was making veiled threats to send her back to America, refusing to renew her work visa. The old grump didn’t care for her “Pollyanna” attitude, as he’d called it. Apparently he expected her to be dour and bitter, like him. Perhaps she was overly positive, but when one had been through what she had, it was either curl up and cry, or laugh. She chose to laugh. But laughing now would certainly not help matters. No man liked to be laughed at, and certainly not while he was naked.
“What should we do? Call the police?” Miranda asked with a casual disinterest that said they’d experienced way too many weird things since starting work at Crestmoore Manor.
“Like we need another police record,” Ellie muttered. That would make five in one month. Just last week they’d had to call the cops because two women had gotten into a cat fight, claws and all, over whether ghosts were real or not.
Of course it had been her fault because she couldn’t control the crowds. It didn’t matter that it had been her idea to add the evening ghost tours to the house museum, doubling Lord Templeton’s pathetic income. According to Lord Te
mpleton, they hadn’t had any mischief until Ellie had started work here. Yep, she was a troublemaker. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the word used to describe her.
Their naked intruder stumbled into a patch of moonlight, the eerie blue highlighting his body with a magical glow. Ellie stiffened, for a moment unable to breathe. No, not just a naked man, a hot naked man. So hot that she forgot her train of thought. Forgot everything around her, including their tour group.
Tall, blond, Nordic almost. He was like some Viking lost in time. Perhaps he was.
The man stumbled into the shadows, losing balance and falling into a yew tree, the branches rattling in protest.
Eloise cringed.
“Yikes,” Miranda murmured, crossing her arms over her mauve bodice. “That’s going to leave some marks and it’s definitely a shame. I might be a lesbian, but even I have eyes and he is gorgeous. Looks like that guy from that vampire show.”
She sure as hell couldn’t argue with that statement. Ellie glanced back to make sure the tour group was still enthralled with the small rose garden. “You get the group to the side of the house before they notice. I’ll take him to my cottage, see if I can figure out where he’s from. Call the police, if needed.”
They watched him upright himself, then spin around again, as if looking for the culprit who had pushed him. Yep, drunk all right. A typical, drunken college student. Eloise brushed back a lock of brown hair that had come loose from the bun she’d attempted. She supposed in a situation like this it was best to think rationally, but that was rather hard to do with a naked man fumbling around in front of you.
“You sure that’s safe?”
Ellie almost snorted. If Miranda had any idea of the things she’d come into contact with. One man, even if he was rather tall and muscled, didn’t frighten her. “I’ll be fine, but if I’m not back in five, call the cops.”
Miranda winked. “Or I’ll just assume he’s even better looking close up. If the cottage is a-rocking…”
She rolled her eyes. “Miranda Chin, he might be hot, but I’m not that desperate.”
Miranda raised a dark brow, giving Ellie a dubious glance. Her friend had made it clear upon many occasions that Ellie needed to get out more… date… get laid. But it didn’t matter how annoyingly blunt Miranda could be, nor did it matter that they’d only known each other for three months, Eloise still loved her like a sister.
Fortunately Miranda kept her impure thoughts to herself and instead, merely clapped her hands like a teacher attempting to gain the attention of wayward students. “All right, let’s move forward then. Hurry now.”
The crowd followed the swoosh of Miranda’s wide, mauve skirts, oblivious to the fact that there was a naked man behind them. As the crowd faded, headed toward the side of the building and taking their murmured conversation with them, Ellie edged ever closer to her target, cringing when her green gown rustled with the movement. Sort of hard to do a sneak attack when dressed like Cinderella’s ugly stepsister. Until she knew otherwise, she’d treat him like a wild animal… no sudden movements, keep a distance.
Still, she couldn’t help but study his lean body, appreciating the taunt muscles of his back, worried about the dark shadows that marked his skin. Bruises or dirt? As he turned, ever so slightly so the moonlight hit his back, the dark shadows burst into tattoos… wings. Startled, she actually paused. She’d never found tattoos sexy, but these were… stunning. He was like an archangel…fallen to earth.
Although the spring had been unseasonably warm, there was still a bite in the night air. The man had to be cold. The intruder latched onto the branch of a yew tree and paused, his back to her. His broad shoulders rose and fell with each harsh intake of breath. Confused, she stepped even closer. Perhaps he wasn’t drunk, maybe injured. Her annoyance shifted to concern.
“Hello, there,” she called out.
The man spun around, eyes flashing, private parts dangling. Impressive private parts.
“Oh…oh wow. Okay.” She held her hand in front of her face, peeking between her splayed fingers. Crap. Miranda was right; he was hot. Really, really hot. Firm, kissable lips, square jaw, straight nose…and sweat… sweat glistening across his forehead, down his broad chest.
She cleared her throat and forced her gaze upward. “You realize you’re not wearing any clothes, by chance?”
He moved faster than she thought humanly possible. Suddenly, he was in front of her, latching onto her arm and jerking her forward. In a dizzying whirl, Ellie found her back to his chest, one of his arms around her neck, the other around her waist. Pinned to his hard body. Stunned, she didn’t dare move. Thank God she wore so many skirts.
His warm breath brushed harshly against her cheek. “Who the hell are you?”
A tingle of awareness started at the tips of her fingers and toes. A familiar feeling she knew well. No. God, not now. She hadn’t had the sensation in weeks. Silly her, she thought she was outgrowing her odd abilities. Here they were, flaring to life now, of all times.
“I won’t hurt you,” she said, realizing how ridiculous he might find her words, considering he held her in a death grip. “Please, just let me go.”
For a moment he didn’t move and she thought she might have to scream for Miranda. Then ever so slowly, he released his hold, shuffling back from her. Ellie spun around, rubbing her neck where she could still feel the pressure of his arm. So, he wasn’t human? But what was he? He looked human, seemed human. Still, her body wouldn’t have reacted the way it had if he was human.
He breathed harshly, his lean body hunched toward the right, as if his ribs might be injured. Even in the dark she could see the cuts and scratches along the knuckles of his fisted hands. Although he looked haunted, ready to attack, he didn’t seem afraid. Boldly, his attention traveled her body, his eyes narrowing as if he found her presence totally bizarre. How odd that she should feel weird under his astute gaze when she was the one fully dressed.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded in a super sexy English accent.
Shouldn’t she be asking that question? Seriously, when had her life become an episode of life styles of the poor and ridiculous? If he wasn’t human, she definitely couldn’t call the police. She glanced around the garden to make sure they were still alone.
“Right, okay.” She stepped closer. He stepped back. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re naked and people generally aren’t naked outside, in a public place. Unless you’re like, at a nudist resort or something.”
He blinked down at her with ridiculously thick lashes that sent her heart fluttering. So unfair. Heck, maybe Miranda was right… she did need to get laid if this misfit was heating her libido. Maybe God had finally decided to smile down upon her and he was a gift from the heavens.
“You speak nonsense.” With those words, he turned and stepped onto the crushed stone path that led to the back of the large manor.
Maybe not. If he was a gift, she was so going to ask for an exchange. She parted her lips to demand he stop, but her words got caught in her throat as her gaze traveled down his back and lower. He had a nice ass. Really nice. Tight, muscled… Unwanted heat rushed through her body, pooling low in her gut. She shook away the insane desire. If he made it to the manor, her job would be over. Hell, her life would be over.
She gathered her heavy skirts in her arms and bolted after him. “Sir, is there someone I can call?”
He stumbled and glanced back at her, as if surprised to see she still followed. There, underneath the lamp light from the back stoop, she could finally see the true him. Brilliant blue eyes pierced her very soul, that face all hard planes and angles. But it wasn’t his beauty that caught her attention, no, it was the dark smudges she’d thought were shadows. Not shadows…dirt? Bruises? Instinctively, she stepped toward him.
He stepped back, continuing their dance of forward and retreat. “Call?”
She forced herself to remain firmly in place, although her mind screamed at her to do somet
hing. As much as she hated Lord Templeton, she wanted to stay here. She knew the area, she’d made friends. She was respected…at times.
If this—whatever he was— ruined her chances at a normal life, she’d… she’d…do something drastic. “Yes, call.” She reached into her skirt pocket and held up her cell phone, the screen glowing blue.
He looked startled, even took another step back. “What is that?”
Oh God, what loony bin had this guy escaped from? “Uhhh, a cell phone.” Maybe there wasn’t anything special about the guy, maybe he was just plain crazy and she’d imagined her body’s reaction.
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking leery and hesitant. “Phone… yes, to call people upon.”
“Riiiiight.” Not just drunk, on drugs… or insane. With her luck, probably both. Why were all the hot guys crazy? Then again, she was standing there having a conversation with a naked guy, so really, who was the crazy person?
He gripped the sides of his head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” For a brief moment he closed his eyes and she actually felt sorry for him. “Yes!” His eyes opened, his entire face brightening. “Call Ashley.”
Ashley. A woman. The disappointment she felt was completely ridiculous given the fact that the man was insane. But seriously, how pathetic was she if even this guy had a significant other and she didn’t? She brushed the thought aside, scolding herself for such nonsensical ideas.
“Do you have Ashley’s number?”
His shoulders sank in defeat. “No.”
She felt oddly bad for him. “Her last name?”
He shook his head, a lock of blond hair falling over his forehead, and she had to resist the urge to brush it back into place. He looked like a lost puppy and she’d always wanted a puppy.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands. Odd markings slashed across his forearms. Puckered, pink skin… burns. Her worry flared. He didn’t look well… pale and glistening in the lamplight, his muscled body shaking like a newborn fawn. Lord Templeton would be of no help. The old man would have him arrested before he’d call the hospital.