Weird Nights
Rebecca Royce
Book two of the Shadow Promised series.
Mindy Spellman hasn’t been the same since a demon stepped into her life, murdered her boyfriend and left her scarred inside and out.
Jonah is one of the blood-oathed, sworn to guard mankind against things that go bump in the night. He’s promised Mindy he’ll teach her how to protect herself. But a poltergeist on the loose leaves him feeling protective—and lust-struck.
She’s supposed to be under his care, but as they battle the forces of evil, he finds himself caring too much.
A Romantica® horror erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Weird Nights
Rebecca Royce
Chapter One
Mindy Spellman pulled her coat closer around her as she walked into the icy cold air that cut like knives against her skin. After six months in Chicago, she didn’t lower her head or look away from the assault, used to the punch the Windy City packed. She had a job to do and couldn’t get it done if she didn’t watch for signs of trouble.
Any of the redbrick homes she rushed by now could be filled with the musical-sounding eclectic mixture of language that Albany Park was famous for. She’d been inside twelve of them in the last two days, but not to enjoy the diverse cultures contained within their walls.
Some of the homes she’d been invited inside, some of them she’d broken into to find the information she needed, regardless of whether the owners opened the door for her or not.
A girl has to do what a girl has to do. There was a poltergeist on the loose. If she couldn’t find it, she couldn’t kill it.
She rounded the corner, seeing her destination up ahead. Red and built just like the others on North Monticello Avenue, it was the only one she hadn’t made her way inside earlier today. The owners understood her request for entry just fine when she’d knocked at noon. They’d just not wanted her inside, even after she explained that she was ghost hunting. Maybe that had been the problem. Unlike some of the others they’d not been bothered yet by the apparitions.
Or maybe they’d been horribly bothered by her white hair and her scarred face—both of which had been given to her by hell creatures earlier that year.
Mindy really couldn’t blame the owners for not wanting her presence. Back in the days before her life tilted on its axis, she wouldn’t have wanted the current version of her inside either.
She intended to help this neighborhood, whether they asked her to or not.
The house she sought, with its black metal gate twined in ornate silver designs, stood out from the rest of the street. Maybe these people had slightly more money than the rest and they could afford to decorate their home accordingly. Personally, she wouldn’t want anything to draw attention to where she lived.
Evil had a tendency to find what it wanted, with or without a silver design leading the way.
Keeping her head down, she moved through the darkness toward the house. The owners weren’t home. She’d kept an eye on their property for the better part of two days. They worked nights, their young children heading off to a house down the street when mom and dad were both out. An hour earlier, the transition had happened.
Now or never, Mindy.
The metal gate creaked when she opened it. Before her parents had died, her father spent endless hours maintaining their house. Nothing leaked, nothing needed oil and the grass had always been cut—the perfect suburban household in the heartland of America.
Then—boom—all of it came to an end.
She shook her head. What a strange memory to dredge up. Her childhood illusions should feel free to go ahead and stay repressed wherever it was they hung out in her brain. Dwelling on what was helped nobody, especially not her.
Moving to the back of the house, she took a look at the lock on the door. Six months earlier, she could never have managed to break in anywhere. Now she could handle getting into this house in a matter of seconds.
A light flashed at her hand and she jolted around, her heart in her throat. “I’d be careful. I think that’s going to prove to be more complicated than you think.”
Jonah turned off his flashlight and grinned at her. Her eyes, strained from the sudden flickering from bright to dark, took a second to recognize his smirk.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “How did you find me?”
The second question concerned her more than the first. Having Jonah with her wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. In fact, if she encountered a ghost, he’d be rather useful. The second—his ability to track her wherever she went—bothered her on a deeper, far more primitive level.
She didn’t want to be found so easily, not when she preferred to stay hidden.
“If I’ve told you once, Mindy, I’ve told you a million times. I’ll always find you, darling.”
He’d also very recently started to use annoying little terms of endearment to refer to her. In his Southern accent, although he’d yet to specify to her where in the South he was from, it sounded even more delicious. Not that she’d ever admit it to him. Jonah had enough of an ego.
He didn’t need to know that she very pathetically lusted after him. Lately, she fantasized about him when she was at her evil day job, watched him through windows when he trained with Master Foy, woke up touching herself after dreaming about him all night. These were not things Jonah needed to know.
Because there was no way he’d ever return her feelings, not in her current state. White hair the color of snow she could fix, if she could ever bring herself to bother. The scarring on her face? That would always be there and someone as physically perfect as Jonah would not be interested in spending time with a monster like her.
At least it gave her lots of time to fight nightmares and make people’s lives better.
“I’m starting to wonder if you have a tracker in my bag.”
Jonah shook his head. “There are no electronics involved in my ability to find you.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She turned back to the door. “Since you brought a flashlight, would you mind holding it up to the lock so I can break it open?”
“Would you mind telling me why you’re breaking in, first?” Jonah stepped to her side and looked down at the lock.
“The whole neighborhood has been complaining of ghosts. Weird police reports. Talking to the media. Everyone, but this house. That tells me they’re either lying about it or they’re somehow involved.”
Jonah sighed loudly. “Mindy.”
“What?” she snapped at him. When Jonah took the tone, it meant he was about to lecture her. She could really do without one at that moment. It was cold outside and she had a house to break into.
“Maybe you disregarded the idea that this house is simply not being haunted. Or maybe it never occurred to you. Either way, even if there is a ghost in there, which I find highly unlikely because ghosts don’t haunt entire neighborhoods, this is not going to help. They bother individual locations or specific people. Not to mention you are not a ghost hunter. What will you do if you find one inside?”
She tapped her bag. “Banish the ghost.”
“With whatever you have in there? You’ll send it away?”
Mindy grinned, which tugged at the scar on the side of her face. “Yes.”
Jonah laughed, a long hard sound. She took a step back; she had not expected that from him. He laughed at her? The man was a blood-oathed evil fighter. He found it amusing that she intended to get rid of a ghost?
“What is so funny?” Her hands shook but she didn’t want him to notice so she turned her attention back to the task at hand, getting into the house.
Jonah placed his hand on hers to stop her. “There is no reason to break into this house. Nothing you have in that bag will se
nd off a ghost. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I have been studying. I have been doing a ton of reading.”
He nodded, his brown eyes solemn. “Yes, I know, sweetheart. But whatever you’re reading is full of crap. You don’t have a ghost here and you couldn’t have sent it off anyway.”
“It’s not possible or I couldn’t?” There was a difference. A very important, distinct difference.
“The second one.” He took her hand as if he’d pull her from the house. She yanked it away. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs.
“When you brought me here, you said you would teach me to take care of myself. You haven’t and now when I take matters into my own hands, you act as if I’m stupid. I’m not.” She jabbed him in the chest. “There’s nothing so special about you that makes it possible for you to do things I can’t. Nothing whatsoever. Your blood oath doesn’t make you better at handling ghosts.”
She went to jab him again and he tugged her up against him instead. “Watch where you jab that finger. It hurt.”
“That was kind of the point, douchebag.”
Jonah sucked in his breath. “I don’t like you using that kind of language. It doesn’t sound natural coming out of your mouth.”
She would have spoken again, but he shoved his hand over her mouth to stop her. “Someone is coming.”
Jonah pulled her into the shadows of the house, hiding her from view with his body. She wanted to fight him, but it seemed counterproductive. One of the owners—the father—had come home. He whistled while he walked up to the side door. Why was he going in that way and how had she been so preoccupied that she missed him?
He looked over his shoulder, shoved his key in the door and entered the house, closing the door behind him.
After a second, Jonah let her go. She took a step away from him.
“Thanks for noticing he was coming.”
“Right. Well, my blood-oathed self is trained for that kind of thing.” He would throw her words right back at her. She rolled her eyes and put her hands in her pockets.
“I’m just going to wait until he leaves again.”
Jonah shook his head. “He’s in for the night. Want to know how I know that? Well, I know a Satan worshiper when I see one. It’s usually from the tattoo on their left hand. The six-six-six gives it away. And I’m afraid that what you don’t have here is a haunting. You have some demon raising and it’s screwing up the whole neighborhood. Foy and I are going to handle it tomorrow. When it’s not Walpurgisnacht and they’re not about to conduct a ritual. But, if you want, you can head on inside and see if they like to bleed blondes who bust through their doors without thinking.”
Damn Jonah. She turned and stormed away. Why did he always have to be so right and why did he have to be so smug about it? Why had he ever brought her to Chicago to begin with? Tears streamed down her cheeks and she applauded herself that she hadn’t let him see them. Nothing ever went the way it should.
* * * * *
“You have a real way with women.”
Jonah jumped. He knew immediately how Mindy must feel every time he did it to her. Making Mindy jump had been one of the most amusing things he’d done lately. The way her breasts swung when she moved fast made his cock harden.
Then again, almost everything Mindy did caused him to get erect since the moment he’d met her in Austin, six months earlier.
“Braxton. What brings you to Chicago?” Braxton, an inch or two taller than Jonah’s six feet, was the only one of his classmates who could knock him to the ground with barely a look on a regular basis and Jonah hadn’t seen him in years. If he’d heard the man speak three sentences together in the last decade he’d be surprised.
“Foy.” Braxton looked up at the sky and Jonah followed his gaze. There were stars in the blackness, visible, distinct gaseous bodies making the sky look magical.
“I asked him to come.” Foy walked into the clearing. “I thought we could use some help emptying the house. It seemed like a three-person job to me. Braxton here is a bit at odds. Perhaps he can re-find his purpose inside those walls.”
“Right.” Jonah pushed all thoughts of Mindy and her sad eyes from his mind. She couldn’t have participated in this. It was far above her abilities and, if he did nothing else, he would find a way to keep her safe for as long as he could.
He moved forward and Braxton grabbed his arm to stop him. Foy took the lead and Jonah had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from objecting. When Jonah lived in New Orleans, he hadn’t answered to Foy for every decision he made, but these were his two years working one-on-one with his Master and with six months left in his time, he had to remember who was in charge in Chicago.
Jonah owed Foy everything.
Braxton spoke softly. “Did you get the invitation?”
“Gossiping, Braxton? I never would have thought of you as being so chatty.”
Foy looked over his shoulder. “You two are worse than teenagers. Can we get the chit-chat done so we can bust through this door and stop them from raising a demon? Yes, we all got Christian’s wedding invitation. Would you two like to discuss this some more, or can we do what we came here to do?
Jonah nodded. “I’m all set. Thanks.”
This had been the strangest night. He’d thought they were going after the demon worshipers the next night. What changed? And what if he hadn’t stumbled upon Mindy? Would she now be wrapped up in all of this?
Foy kicked down the door. Apparently they were not being subtle.
Jonah gritted his teeth. “I really hope there’s no one inside there with a gun.”
But, as he always did, he followed Foy through the door. Screams from around the corner caught his attention and he left Foy and Braxton to take down the man of the house who came at them holding a knife. Jonah wasn’t concerned. Knives could be easily dealt with. Guns were a whole different matter.
He charged down the basement stairs, taking them two at a time, and arrived at a scene he’d witnessed before but would prefer never to see again. A woman—he quickly cataloged her. Young, mid-twenties, Latina, nude—strapped to a table, restrained by her hands and feet—while an old woman in her seventies stood over her wielding a knife.
By the few marks on the victim’s skin, he could tell the ritual killing had begun. Kill the woman, raise the demon. He wouldn’t even be surprised if they’d managed to find themselves a virgin for the deed. Poor girl.
What did surprise him was the old woman holding the knife. It wasn’t every day he encountered a grandmotherly devil worshiper.
The sweet little knife-wielding granny launched herself at him. He stumbled backward when he caught her and she managed to scratch him with her knife before he disarmed her.
It burned and blood poured from the wound.
“Lady.” She tore around in his arms and he had to wrestle her down to the ground. “I am really not in the mood.”
With a wrench, he managed to roll her over and tie her up so she couldn’t cause any more harm. He sat down on her legs. His side ached where she’d stabbed him.
Foy and Braxton tore down the stairs. He pointed at the victim before they could speak. “I’ve got her. You guys feel like handling this poor woman on the table? I’m bleeding over here and I’d rather not move, if it’s all the same.”
“Satan will avenge this,” the old woman screamed and Jonah rolled his eyes.
Foy glanced between Jonah and the victim before helping to free the woman. Jonah laughed. “You let me know how that goes, lady.”
“You know.” Braxton spoke through clenched teeth while he bent over to tie up Jonah’s assaulter’s legs. “If you had waited for me, you wouldn’t have gotten stabbed.”
“I heard a woman screaming. I reacted.” He’d never been able to stop the reflex. Ever. No amount of training and patience coaching from Foy rid him of the need to immediately respond to a woman’s cry for help. At this point, he doubted he’d ever be able to turn it off. Stop, think and make a rati
onale decision didn’t work for him when it came to a damsel in distress.
“That’s going to get you killed.” Braxton finished tying Granny, and Jonah got off her legs.
His side ached and bled heavily, not a good sign. He probably needed a stitch. Or fifteen.
Foy freed the girl and wrapped her in a blanket he’d found somewhere. Jonah hadn’t been paying attention to his movements. Their mentor had done this thousands of times. If anyone would know how to comfort the would-be sacrifice, it was Master Foy.
Braxton tugged the sweet little old Satan worshiper to him and then swung her over his shoulder like a bag of golf clubs. She fought and screamed. The whole scene made Jonah’s head ache.
“Why did we move this up a day?” He looked straight at Foy.
“Because this young lady would be dead if we hadn’t.”
Foy had an amazing gift to see visions of victims when he meditated. Nothing like that ever happened to Jonah when he cleared his mind. The others he trained with all seemed to have small doses of mystical abilities too. Everyone but Jonah.
Knowing that anyone else would have no idea what he spoke about, but that Foy always somehow understood what he meant, he let himself ask a question that seemed forever on his mind.
“Did you make a mistake when you picked me?” Had he just been pitying the boy whose parents lived but didn’t want him? When everyone else in the program had been alone in the world because of death, not abandonment? Had he just felt like if he didn’t give Jonah a shot there would be nowhere else for him to go?
“No.” Foy shook his head then charged up the stairs with the woman in his arms. “You’re bleeding. Go to the ER before you pass out.”
That was apparently all his Master had to say on the subject. Jonah sighed, clenching his teeth. Finally, when he could take a deep breath, he looked at Braxton. “Do you need help here?”
“Nope.” Braxton patted the Satan-worshiper on the back. “I’ll take care of this.”
Jonah didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. Sometimes things had to be “taken care of” by making people who wanted to cause the world paranormal harm disappear. He’d done it himself. If Braxton really had this under control, Jonah would go find a doctor and get himself on the way to healing.