Addictive Paranormal Reads Halloween Box Set Page 7

  She grinned, but it faded when she realized he was serious. “I promise I’ll listen.”

  He took another longer drink of his brandy-fortified coffee, and then told the story she’d suppressed over the years about the legend of the Ghost of Still Waters. Only there was so much more than the two-minute tale she’d heard on the playground. She learned of witches, a love triangle, lies, persecution and murder.

  As if that weren’t enough, Ryan was convinced he’d detected a repeated pattern in the additional drownings that had occurred since the legend originated.

  “I combed through every article and picture I could find of the incident from the Twenties. It turns out William and Anna had a close friend named Emily Elizabeth Thornton who witnessed the accident. I looked up the name and found a picture of the woman when she was older. She looks just like Professor Fielding.”

  Ali opened her mouth to ask a question, shut it, and then decided he needed to hear the craziness of his conclusions. “Are you suggesting Liz is a witch who’s over a hundred fifty years old?”

  “You called her a witch,” he reminded. “You even said at times it seems she weaves a magic spell.”

  “I didn’t mean that literally.”

  “Yeah, well, even if you had, I found her obituary. Emily died when she was sixty-three, so that shoots that theory.”

  “Oh good.”

  “But then, there’s the two people who died twenty-some years ago.” Again he looked at her without lifting his head. “Did your mom ever talk to you about them?”

  She frowned. “Why would she?”

  “Because she knew them. At least, she knew the girl, Rebecca—Becca—Grant. I’m not sure about the guy. Your mom and Professor Fielding were there when Becca drowned.”

  Ali stiffened. “They were?”

  “It happened on their way home from a camping trip, and they were the only two witnesses.”

  “I had no idea.” And yet, something pinged in her memory. She tried to grasp the thought and pull it forward, but the knowledge hung back in the mist, just out of reach.

  “I guess I’m not surprised,” Ryan continued. “The paper specifically mentioned your mom was in shock for a few days after it happened, so she probably doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “And then there was my own episode in the pond. I remember her being nearly hysterical when that happened.”

  “Understandable. Anyway, the guy, Shane, your mom may not have known him, but I know for a fact Fielding did. According to the article about his death, they had been dating. She was there when he drowned, too.”

  “Didn’t you say that happened a couple years before Becca?”

  “Yes. So think about it for a second. If she was there when her boyfriend died, why in the hell would she go back up there again?”

  Ali saw his point, but simply shrugged and gave him a small smile to lighten the mood. “To exorcise old ghosts?”

  “Funny, but I think there’s more. A lot more.”

  He straightened to drain his mug. The blanket slid from his shoulders to the floor; he picked it up and tossed it on the back of the couch. Ali studied the width of his chest and the sprinkling of golden-brown hair that tapered down across his stomach muscles before disappearing beneath the towel.

  Before she gave into the growing temptation to reach over and touch, she jumped to her feet. “That sounded a little ominous, in which case, I’m going to need a refill. You want one?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  He stood while handing her the mug. Suddenly a mere foot separated them. She raised her gaze from his chest to his face and caught her breath at the warmth in his brown eyes.

  “I appreciate that you haven’t decided I’m a total nutcase.”

  “Let’s see what’s to come before I finalize that call,” she teased.

  He smiled, and then his gaze dropped to her lips. His hand rose, knuckles lightly grazing her jaw before fingers slid through her hair to tilt her chin up. Resentment over his perceived relationship with Liz was long gone, and she leaned forward in anticipation.

  Movement in the corner of her eye made her draw back. She caught a split-second glimpse of a shadowed figure in the window at the same time the lights flickered. A loud, crackling pop sounded directly behind her, and the house went dark. She cut her scream short in the dead silence, but when Ryan’s arms closed around her, a reactive jerk sent one of the coffee mugs crashing to the floor.

  “It’s just the power,” he assured her. “Probably a downed line from the wind.”

  She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her in the dark. The gas fireplace required electricity, so they didn’t even have that light.

  “I swear I saw someone outside,” she whispered.

  His hold tightened. “Where?”

  “The window to your right.”

  His arms loosened, and his hands grasped her shoulders. “Stay here.”

  “Wait. There’s glass all over and you’ve got bare feet. Let me get a flashlight first.”

  No more than the words were out, appliances hummed to life and the light above the kitchen sink came back on. The lamp beside them and the fireplace remained dark.

  “I think the bulb blew in the lamp,” Ryan said as he surveyed the floor in the dim light filtering from the other room. “I can pick my way through here and get my clothes from the dryer. I’ll still take that flashlight, though, so I can check outside.”

  “Okay.”

  They met back by the front door a few minutes later. She handed him the light, and then hugged the edge of the door as he stepped outside into the cold night air. “Be careful.”

  He grasped the doorknob and pulled it from her grasp. “Lock this behind me. I’ll ring when I’m done.”

  She did as instructed, then rubbed her arms on her way to turn the fireplace back on. After the gas whooshed into a flame, she went into the kitchen for the broom and dust pan, and grabbed the cordless phone to dial her parents on her way back to the living room.

  “Hey, Mom, did your power go out, too?”

  “For about a minute, but we’re good now. Are you okay? Do you need me to send your dad over?”

  “No, I’m fine. Ryan’s still here, and my power’s back on, too.”

  “Good. You know, your dad said Ryan seemed nice. You should invite him to dinner this weekend so I can meet him.”

  “I will.” Ali spotted the bobbing light outside from the flashlight and walked over to the window. “Mom, is Aunt Liz still there?”

  “No. She left right after you did.”

  “I thought you two were supposed to wrap up the fundraiser?”

  “We were, but I went to get us another glass of wine and when I came back, she’d suddenly developed a migraine. I offered her one of my prescriptions and a room upstairs, but she insisted on driving home. She has some herbal remedy she uses.”

  “There’s no arguing with Aunt Liz,” she said as she watched Ryan inspect the area outside the window before moving on. “Mom…I have to ask you something…”

  “What dear?”

  “Do you believe in the Ghost of Still Waters?”

  Ali heard her mother’s indrawn breath and then silence.

  “Mom?”

  “Why are you asking about that?”

  She forced herself to ignore the tremor in her mother’s voice as she explained. “Ryan was researching, um, for a paper, and he found an article that mentioned you and Aunt Liz.”

  “If you’ve read the article, then you know what happened.”

  “I didn’t read it Mom, Ryan did. How come you never said anything about this?”

  “Because I’m not comfortable talking about it, honey. It was a horrible thing that happened, and I’ve tried hard to forget it. If you really must know more, I’d rather you speak with—”

  “Aunt Liz?”

  “No, don’t do that. She wasn’t able to save Becca. Don’t bring up bad memories for her, too,” her mother cautioned. “I was going
to say your father.”

  “Dad was there?”

  “That was the weekend we started dating. He was my rock back then. Still is.”

  The doorbell chimed, and Ali swung around. She’d gotten so distracted talking to her mom, she forgot to watch for Ryan. A quick glance confirmed him on the porch, and she went to open the door.

  “I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories,” she said as Ryan shut the door behind him.

  She met his gaze and lifted a brow in silent question. He shook his head in response.

  Ali wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. Had she imagined the figure peering through the window, or had the person disappeared before Ryan could find them? She didn’t like that thought one bit—especially living in this house all alone.

  Ryan paused when he saw the shattered mug still on the floor. She swung the broom into his outstretched hand and went into the kitchen where she finished up her call while pouring two more mugs of coffee. When Ryan came in to dump the broken glass, she handed him his cup. The bottle of brandy she slid across the counter, figuring with his drive home later, he could add as much or as little as he liked now.

  Maybe between now and then she’d even work up the nerve to ask him to stay.

  “Thanks.” He looked into the cup, took a drink, and then filled it to the brim with liquor. While screwing the cap on the bottle, he met her gaze. “Would your parents have a problem with me spending the night?”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11

  Crap. Ryan took in the suspicious narrowing of Ali’s gaze and realized he should’ve worded that different. Probably asked if she minded, first. Clearly she did.

  “Can you read my mind?”

  He laughed at the totally unexpected question. “Why, where you going to ask me to stay?”

  “I thought about it,” she admitted with a shy smile. “I guess, first I should ask if you found anything outside.”

  They’d essentially covered this question a few minutes ago, but he answered anyway. “No. I checked for footprints all around the house, but with the thick grass and all your landscaping, I didn’t find a thing.”

  “Oh.” She picked up the spoon next to her cup and stirred the toffee-colored liquid for a second time. “You know, I was probably just seeing things after all that talk about witches and ghosts. You really wouldn’t need to stay.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d feel better if I did.”

  The smile she gave him held a note of relief. “Honestly, so would I. And I have a guest bedroom, so it’s not like you’ll have to use the couch.”

  In other words, he wasn’t getting any. Ryan would’ve told her sex wasn’t his motivation for staying, but when he considered her earlier reaction to unzipping his jeans, and how flustered she’d been when she walked in on him in the laundry room, he had to wonder if her discomfort stemmed from not knowing him well enough or lack of experience?

  Really, it didn’t matter. Yes, she’d acknowledged their connection, but now that he knew the reason for it, a time-out from the serious talk seemed a good idea to strengthen that invisible link. Getting to know each other in a non-physical way first would only help with what he had yet to tell her.

  “In exchange for the bed, how about I buy dinner tonight?” he offered. “We can go out, or order in. Your choice.”

  “I don’t feel like going out after everything that’s happened, and I’ve got that soup from my mom, remember? There’s more than enough for both of us.”

  He nodded. “Soup it is.”

  For the next hour, he kept the conversation neutral, careful to steer away from anything ghostly. He’d finished his coffee a long time ago, and after the dinner dishes were cleaned, they retired to the couch with wine glasses in hand and the bottle of merlot on the coffee table. She’d replaced the blown light bulb, but left the lamp off in favor of a couple candles and the fire.

  He hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d relaxed. In hindsight, it wasn’t so surprising considering the alcohol and her company. He definitely liked her beyond their physical and elemental attraction.

  They’d finished discussing the last book they’d each read when Ali spun her glass where it balanced on her leg. “So, this ‘a lot more’ stuff must be pretty big if you’re working so hard to avoid it.”

  Ryan laughed uneasily from his spot on the couch. “I wasn’t avoiding it; I was just giving you a break.”

  “Break’s over.”

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath and went for the Hail Mary. “What do you know about reincarnation?”

  “Um…just the basics, really. Souls being born again, living multiple lives, that kinda stuff.”

  “Do you believe in the concept?”

  “No.”

  He frowned at her quick reply. “That’s it? Just no?”

  “Sorry, gut reaction.” A tiny furrow appeared on her forehead. She took a sip of wine, then a second larger drink before lowering her glass. “Do you?”

  “As of two weeks ago, no,” he answered, realizing he shouldn’t have been surprised at her reply. “I’d have had the same reaction you just did.”

  “And now?”

  Now. How did he explain now? He studied the faded fabric of his jeans, rubbing his thumb across the worn material.

  “It began with the dream before the first day of class. Then I started having these…memories of myself with you.” He glanced up and when she met his gaze, he held it. “Only it wasn’t you as you are today. And I wasn’t exactly me, either. We were both dressed as if we were living back in the eighteen hundreds. We talked different. We rode in wagons.”

  “Visions that came with your face,” she murmured.

  “Exactly.” He reached to set his glass on the table. “Except, now I’m pretty sure they’re not visions, but memories of a past life. Because how could I have visions of something I know nothing about? I certainly wasn’t fantasizing—I wouldn’t fantasize historical costumes to the accuracy and detail that I have. And ignoring the first, the rest weren’t dreams—I was wide awake for every one.”

  She didn’t avert her gaze, but she didn’t say a word in reply, so he kept talking.

  “In one, we were walking in a meadow full of flowers. In another, we lay side by side in that same meadow and watched the northern lights in the night sky. But the one that freaked me out the most was of Professor Fielding.”

  “You had one of Liz?”

  “She was in an old-fashioned gown, too.” Heat rose in his face, and he decided to keep the kissing and sex part of that memory to himself. Whatever had happened back then certainly wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime. “I couldn’t really make sense of what I was seeing until after you read my story last night and told me about the Ghost of Still Waters.”

  Ali tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “Is that why you went to the pond? To try to summon the ghost?”

  “I went to prove my theory was crazy.” Ryan leaned forward in earnest. “But I saw her, Ali. It’s all true.”

  “Ghosts aren’t real.”

  “Yes,” he insisted. “I said the name and her face appeared. Just like the legend says.”

  She shook her head and shot her feet. “You saw what you wanted to see.”

  “Not even close.” When she stalked to the fire, he followed. “I saw you.”

  She spun around. “What?”

  “It was your face I saw under the water.”

  Those green eyes narrowed to a glare. “So, I’m the reincarnated soul of a witch who lures innocent people to a horrible death?”

  “When you put it like that…”

  “It sounds crazy,” she finished for him.

  Ryan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m still figuring things out. Some things make sense, others don’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then dropped his arm and took in her face in the firelight. “I’m not crazy, Ali.”

  She surprised him with a small smile. “I know.”

  The breath he hadn’t b
een aware of holding eased from his lungs. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’m not one hundred percent convinced you’re completely sane, either.”

  “Maybe if I show you what I saw. You got your computer handy?”

  She retrieved her laptop and met him back at the couch. Once the wireless internet connected, Ryan located the article from twenty-two years ago, and then shifted to the side so she could get a better view.

  Her mouth dropped open as she bent forward. “Wow.” She sat back for a moment, then leaned forward again. Her green gaze studied the picture as if committing it to memory. “So that’s Rebecca Grant. Becca. We could be sisters.”

  “Practically twins,” he corrected quietly. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one. My birthday is June fifteenth.” She paused, then lifted her gaze to his. “Okay, fine, so it’s nine months later. Mathematically, it’s possible. That’s all I’ll concede right now. I need to think about the rest of it.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Show me what else you found.”

  He brought up some of the other articles he’d read, and then refilled their glasses while she skimmed. She thanked him when he handed over her wine, and took a drink while looking at the picture of Emily Elizabeth Thornton from the Twenties.

  “You’re right, the resemblance is uncanny.”

  “For all of us,” Ryan pointed out.

  That earned him a teasing grin. “I don’t know, you might be better looking than that Shane guy.”

  “That’s the wine talking.”

  “Probably.”

  He laughed in the middle of a sip of his own. “You didn’t have to agree that fast.”

  Ali reclined back into the cushions, leaving the image of Emily staring out at them from the screen. When Ryan blinked, he had a flash vision of the ghoulish face from that afternoon in the coffee shop. He reached over and slammed the computer shut. “Sorry, that picture creeps me out.”

  “I know Aunt Liz can be a real piece of work sometimes, but she also has her moments.” Ali lolled her head toward him as he settled into his own spot. “Like this morning, when she apologized for yesterday. We even hugged.”