Body Temperature and Rising - Book One of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy (9 page)

She had conjured him at the psychic fair, was it only three days ago? It was on the green, down by Derwent Water across from the Theatre by the Lake. Stupidly, she’d brought her new scrying mirror with her, rather than the cheap plastic one she usually used for such events. She was good at scrying, and she thought the sight of her lovely mirror would be more likely to draw clients. Besides it was such a beautiful mirror, with its exquisite inlay of silver, tooled in the image of a circle of women dancing naked beneath a canopy of oak trees. She couldn’t bear to leave it at home. 

She was certain it was very old when she’d seen it at the car boot sale, and when she’d felt its vibrations, its energy, she’d known she was supposed to have it. She’d left it unguarded on the table for only a second, but it was long enough. The stupid American chick had picked it up, handled it like it was any of the other cheap rip-off charms and potions being sold at the fair. Oh the woman had been very apologetic when Serina had jerked it away from her and practically screamed at her that one does not touch the magical tools of a witch. She had been furious, mostly at herself for leaving it in harm’s way. It had taken her weeks to cleanse it and purify it and meditate with it until it truly was attuned to her energy, and now she would have to start over again because it had been polluted by the touch of another. 

That’s what she’d been thinking about when suddenly, out of nowhere, he had been there, looking a little confused at first, his gaze following the American as she disappeared among the crowds. He was frightening and lovely and dark, and he carried a bullwhip, which she found rather sexy in a BDSM sort of way. What mattered, though, was that he was a ghost, the first ghost who had ever contacted her, and he had revealed himself to no one but her. 

She had always known she possessed the gift. She had always believed that eventually she would make contact with the other side, but she never imagined it would be with anyone so powerful. 

That night he made her feel things she never imagined she could feel, like she was flying, like she was timeless, like the whole realms of the living and the dead and even the Ether were hers to command. He said she was just coming into her power. He said she would do greater things that she could imagine and he would help her. In fact, he said, just as it had been intended that she should have the mirror, it had also been intended that he should be sent from the other side to serve her.

And, Goddess, how he served her! That night he had made her come more times than she would have imagined possible, and yet he held his sexual energy, never coming himself. It made his magic stronger, he’d said. And pleasuring her would strengthen both of them. Afterward, when he lay next to her naked and still hard, he whispered against her ear, ‘the American. Do you know her?’

She shook her head. ‘Why?’

‘She troubles me,’ he replied. ‘She troubles my dreams.’

Up until that point, Serina had no idea ghosts dreamed.

Fortunately, she didn’t live far from the lake, because her Deacon was insatiable and had given her two more orgasms before she managed to throw herself through the front door of her flat and slam it shut behind them. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, shoving her skirt up over her hips, lifting her arse and running a heavy finger along the wet gusset of her panties, laughing wickedly as she squirmed. Then he slipped them off over her hips. Straddling her so that the bulge in his trousers was only inches from her mouth, he tied her wrists to the headboard with her knickers. Then he ran his hands down over her breasts and scooted back, forcing her legs apart with his knees. 

‘Shall you be my sacrifice, my lovely?’ He pinched her clit and she yelped and wet herself further ‘Shall you be my offering to your beloved goddess?’ Then he took his bullwhip and raked the coil of it between her drenched pout. ‘Oh yes,’ he breathed. ‘Such a succulent juicy sacrifice you would be.’ His eyes were wild, dark. His pupils dilated and his jaw set hard. With his free hand, he opened the flap of his trousers and released his always heavy dark cock. 

‘I think your goddess would be very pleased with such a sacrifice, don’t you?’ 

The tiniest frisson of fear crawled up her spine, but was quickly forgotten when he pushed into her and began to thrust. 

Later, so many orgasms later that she was barely conscious, he curled around her and gently kissed her raw nipples. Then he whispered next to her ear. ‘The American will come to you with a young man, a sheep farmer by trade. They will desire you to help them with sex magic’ He pinched her nipple hard and she yelped. ‘Pay attention my lovely. This is very important.’ He pushed the damp hair away from her ear and whispered. ‘Here is what I want you to do.’

Chapter 9

Tara didn’t know how long she had been wandering the fells before she realised she wasn’t alone. It miffed her a bit. Most ghosts knew that when she took to walking the fells alone at night, it meant she didn’t want company. There was only one ghost bold enough to follow her anyway. 

The moon was still full enough to reflect silver off the sheen of Derwent Water, which sparkled up the reflection of the lights of Keswick around its North Eastern shore. She stood for a long moment taking in the view from the top of Latrigg, then heaved a sigh and wiped sweat from her forehead. ‘Anderson, I know you’re here. What I’m wondering is why you’re here.’

For a second a shadow appeared and shimmered next to her, and suddenly the ghost, fully enfleshed, stood next to her. ‘My dear Tara, I think you know the answer to that query as well as I do.’

‘I don’t want company, Anderson.’ 

He folded his arms across his chest and stepped closer to her, and she was reminded again of just how substantial he was when he was in the flesh. ‘I suppose, as my high priestess, you could order me to leave, but we are not, at the moment, about coven business, nor are we performing any acts of high magic, therefore, I do believe I am as free to wander about on the fells at night as you are.’

She turned on her heels and continued to walk as though he were not there. He followed, keeping her impressive pace. 

‘I don’t need a babysitter.’

‘A fact that relieves me greatly, my love, as I have no gift with children.’

She walked on. ‘You’re a smart arse sometimes, you know that?’

‘So I have been informed.’

For a few moments they walked on in companionable silence, the view disappearing as they walked the shadowy path under the trees.

‘They are both safe and unharmed.’ Anderson said, at last. 

She stopped suddenly and he nearly ran into her. ‘You stayed with her?’ 

‘Of course I stayed with her. In her distress she was not able to call me forth into the flesh as efficiently as she otherwise would have been. I assumed that would be the situation, though it was a bit of a risk.’ 

‘A bit of a risk. Right.’

An owl trilled and they both glanced out into the trees toward the sound. Then the ghost added, ‘Of course it would have made no difference if she had been able to force me into the flesh. I am quite capable of enduring her wrath if I must.’

Tara grunted a chuckle. ‘I have no doubt of that.’

The ghost stepped forward and slid a warm hand onto Tara’s shoulder. ‘If you would but let me talk to Marie, I am sure I could make her understand.’

Tara shook her head. ‘I’m not happy with the way things have gone either, Anderson, but holding them too closely may only put them more at risk.’

They walked on with the moonlight glinting in and out of the thicket of trees. At last Anderson spoke again. ‘No doubt you know Deacon paid them a visit this morning? At a most inconvenient time, as he is wont to do. They were about to engage in intercourse.’

Tara nodded. ‘Yes, I know. Deacon provided a very powerful distraction. But no one was hurt.’

‘At the moment he is just toying with them, and with you.’ Anderson spoke to the back of her head. ‘At the moment.’

‘Don’t badger me about this, Anderson.’ She turned on him. ‘Don’t you think I’m racking my brain trying to figure out how to protect them, how to get them back to where they’re safe.’ She forced a laugh that sounded more like a sob. ‘If there even is such place.’ She raised a hand before he could speak. ‘I knew this would come up, I knew I would have to talk about it, about …’ She swallowed hard. ‘About what really happened. That’s why I wanted the time with Marie, I wanted her to understand on a deeper level than just me telling her that I killed Fiori.’ She forced the last words back in a gulp of breath that made the delicate bones of her throat contract tightly and ache, words she hated, a truth she hated, a vision that would be forever burned into her memories. ‘And now she’ll never understand beyond the taint of the act.’

This time, Anderson didn’t allow her to push him away. He took her into his arms and pressed her close to his chest, close to the beat of his heart. ‘I think it is you, my dearest Tara, who cannot see past the taint of that act to the mercy and tenderness it yielded up.’

For a few seconds, she let him hold her, took comfort in the one who had been with her the longest, the one who knew her best, the one Deacon could not take away from her. Then she squared her shoulders, pulled away and continued walking, him amiably now at her side. 

‘They are both very aware that they need help, that they cannot face Deacon alone. And they, at least now understand they will have to face him. They are seeking out the help of other witches,’ he said at last. 

‘Other witches,’ Tara snorted. ‘What other witches?’

‘I am only telling you what they are doing,’ he said. ‘I am hoping that the futility of their quest will at least allow me to talk to Marie. I think she is more inclined to listen to reason than Tim, and in some ways she is more practical, more objective.’

‘That’s because she hasn’t lost someone she cares about yet. She can still afford to be practical and objective.’ 

Anderson stopped, took a deep breath of night air and released it slowly. ‘Perhaps that is true, but if no acceptable solution to our dilemma is found soon, I will go to her, and I will make her understand.’ Then he moved on, his eyes on the dark hulk of Blencathera silhouetted against the sky. ‘I would much prefer to do so with your approval, my love.’

Tara offered a grunt. ‘As if I’ve ever had any control over you, Anderson.’

He gave her a disappointed pout. ‘My darling, Tara, if you had no control over me, I would have left all of this madness you have so cunningly involved me in, long ago.’

‘You’re kidding? Right?’ Marie looked over Tim’s shoulder at a website called Magical Solutions. ‘It sounds like a cheap interior decorator. And Serina Ravenmoor, can you get any more woo-woo than that?’

Tim sat back in his chair and stretched. ‘Her name keeps coming up as someone who knows what she’s doing.’ He pulled up the ‘about’ page on her website with its picture of a wraith of a woman weighted down beneath a tumble of red hair. She was dressed in a black beaded gypsy skirt and a bustier layered in blue-black feathers that offered up the round tops of breasts the size and colour of ripe peaches, breasts nearly lost in a cascade of jewellery – all sorts of crystals surrounding an enormous silver pentacle encrusted with what looked like moonstones. In one ring-cluttered hand, she held a silver chalice that looked like it could have come straight from a Renaissance fair, and in the other she held a bone handled knife with a straight, ornately carved blade. 

Beneath the photo was the name, Serina Ravenmoor, specialist in sex magic.

‘You’re kidding? Right?’ Marie said again.

‘You didn’t seem to doubt Tara Stone when she gave you her card that said she practiced sex magic.’

‘Of course I doubted Tara Stone. I thought she was full of shit. And that was even after I’d seen what she and Anderson were capable of.’ She sighed. ‘At least Tara wasn’t a twit.’

Tim glared up at her. ‘No, Tara’s a murderer. I’ll take my chances with the twit. Besides,’ he added. ‘I don’t see that we have much choice. Her CV seems better than anyone else’s we’ve read and the stuff on her website sound like … well …’

‘Sounds like woo-woo squared, Tim. My God, none of it makes any sense. It’s rubbish, all of it, just new age rubbish. Besides, I’ve met her. The chick’s a nutter.’

‘You’ve met her?’ Tim folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat. ‘Tell me just how did you meet her?’

Marie pulled her chair up next to his and told him about her unpleasant encounter with this Serina chick at the psychic fair. ‘I’d been walking around town, and the fair was free, so I was curious. She went ballistic when I picked up her damned mirror. If she didn’t want it touched, she shouldn’t have left it lying on the table with all of the other woo-woo stuff people were poking through. How was I supposed to know?’

In spite of himself, Tim’s lips twitched into a smile. ‘So you’re afraid of her, that’s what you’re saying.’

‘No! That’s not it. I thought she was a nutter then and I think she’s a nutter now, but,’ she chafed her arms and shivered. ‘There was something very creepy about that damned mirror.’ She forced a laugh and glanced up at him. ‘Now I’m sounding like a nutter.’

Tim leaned forward in his chair. ‘Why? Why was it creepy? I can’t imagine anyone as sceptical as you feeling vibes off of something or feeling the energy of the past owner.’ He made swirly motions with his hands.’

‘It wasn’t anything like that. It made me feel, I don’t know, sort of sick to my stomach, sort of like I feel when I’m around ghosts only maybe with a touch of food poisoning thrown in for good measure.’ She shrugged. ‘This Serina chick didn’t need to worry about me fondling the mirror. I put it down fast and couldn’t wait to get away from there.’

‘It’s common knowledge not to touch another witch’s tools,’ Tim said. ‘I’m not surprised you felt ill.’

She studied him for a moment. ‘Fiori tell you that?’

His jaw tightened. His eyelids fluttered slightly, and he nodded.

‘Bet Fiori didn’t leave her tools out on display at a psychic fair where someone could pick them up, did she?’ Before he could reply, she added. ‘This is the kind of chick you think can help us? I just want to know why. Give me one good reason why.’

He scooted his chair back up to the table and began to flip through pages on his computer. ‘First of all, she has quite a web presence. She’s fairly googleable, as googleable as any witch in Cumbria is.’ Marie looked over his shoulder. Sure enough the woman had spoken at lots of psychic fairs and woo-woo shops. She’d had articles published in several new-age papers, magazines, and websites. Her topic of preference seemed to be ghosts and sex. That was certainly in their favour – if she actually knew anything about either, and from what could be gleaned online, Marie felt the jury was still out. 

Tim scratched at the stubble now gracing his chin. ‘You got a better idea? I’m listening.’

‘All right.’ Marie stood and stretched, then plugged in the kettle. ‘Call Ms Raven Britches then, and we’ll see.’

With a fresh pot of tea, they settled in at the table just as the moon peeked in the kitchen window. Tim placed the call putting his mobile on speakerphone. Neither of them gave a thought to how late it was.

Three rings, then four. On the sixth ring, just as Tim reached to turn off the phone, there was a breathless female voice on the other end of the line. ‘I was on my way out, when I realised this had to be an important call,’ the woman said, sultriness replacing breathlessness. 

Marie rolled her eyes, and Tim glared at her.

Marie sat with her arms crossed below her breasts feeling more and more uncomfortable as Tim told Serina Ravenmoor a whole lot more about their situation than she wished he would.

‘I see,’ Serina was saying. ‘And you’re plagued by ghosts who want to have sex with you.’

Could anything sound more stupid? Marie thought . Even woo-woo chick had to be practically wetting herself to keep from laughing. Either that or she would send the padded van their direction as soon as she hung up.

But Serina seemed nonplussed. ‘You see, Tim, we who walk among the living consider our flesh a weakness. It’s always getting ill or getting injured and ultimately it ages and dies. But to those who have no flesh it’s a treasure beyond price. And one of the deepest pleasures of the flesh is, of course, sex. I don’t find it surprising at all that the spirits would long for flesh so that they could have intercourse with you.’

Marie bit her lip to keep from giggling at the blush that crawled up Tim’s throat at the mention of intercourse with him. 

Serina’s voice and grown warmer and more honeyed the longer she had spoken with Tim, and just when Marie was expecting the phone sex to begin, Serina’s voice changed, became more distant, more ethereal. Good job, Marie thought. 

‘Tim, I can help you. And your friend.’

Before Tim could finish his sigh of relief, she added. ‘But you must come tonight. The veil between the worlds is thinnest tonight while we still linger in the Moon’s power. You must come tonight.’

‘Tonight.’ They spoke at the same time and looked at each other. 

‘You mean you can’t help us any other night,’ Marie said, sounding every bit as sceptical as she felt.

‘Of course I can help you on another night, but your chances for success will be much better tonight. Besides,’ the witch added quickly, ‘it’s not practical to think one session will be enough when I’ll need to be with you intimately, first of all, to assess the situation more fully.’

‘Hold it!’ Marie ignored Tim’s glare and hand motions for her to be quiet. ‘Intimate, what do you mean intimate?’

The woman’s voice suddenly dripped condescension through the speaker. ‘It’s sex magic, dear. Some level of sexual intimacy will have to occur between Tim and me for it to work. I’ll accept cash only, as you must understand, and if that’s a problem, I’m sure you can find a cash machine.’

Marie cursed under her breath. They could get a similar deal on some of the back streets in Portland any time they wanted it, and no doubt in London too, she thought, but it was called something different. 

She was about to say just that to Tim when Tim surprised her by saying, ‘Ms Ravenmoor, look this is a huge decision. We’ll need to think about it at least overnight, no matter how good the convergences and stuff are.’

‘Of course you will, Tim. I understand. But I’d be lapse in my duty to my sacred oath if I didn’t warn you not to wait too long.’

He thanked her and had barely got the phone turned off before Marie let go. ‘Total bullshit. Surely you can see that? She wants to have sex with you, and make you pay for it. There’s another name for that where I come from.’ She scrubbed her hands over her face. ‘I need a shower.’

He waved her away. ‘Go. You need a break. I’ll keep looking.’ He turned his attention back to the computer.