High Noon (Between the Veils Series, Book Two) (4 page)

Go back.

The ghostly voice drifted to him as he neared the front door.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “You can haunt my ass all you want, but I’m not leaving here without her.”

He looked back when something bumped his shoulder. Blake growled and turned, some salt and holy water ready in his hands when a fine mist materialized off to his left, vanishing through some bushes.

Go back
.

He stared at where the apparition had disappeared, when the words finally made sense. “Fuck. Not leave…go to the back.”

Blake darted down the side of the gallery, pushing through the underbrush where the partial manifestation had vanished. A pocket of cold sent shivers racing up his spine, but he pressed on, hacking his way to the rear door. Dark shadows covered the small porch, shrouding the area like an oppressive blanket. He tried the handle.

“Damn it.” He resisted slamming his fist against the unforgiving wood, wondering why the spirit had led him back here when something banged at the far corner of the building.

Blake unclipped his flashlight and twisted the shaft, cursing when the light flickered then died. Apparently the spirit had drained the energy supply in order to communicate with him. He inhaled a rough breath then groped his way along the back of the gallery, stopping at a large set of wooden doors. Dread crawled down his spine as he stared at the entrance to the cellar. God, he hated cellars.

He shook his head, fingering the lock and chain sealing the two pieces of wood together before placing his crowbar along the short length of metal and wrenching the links apart. The chain twisted, then broke, dropping the lock to the ground. The doors rattled, sending a low tone echoing through the air. He cringed, knowing every noise put Payton at further risk.

Fear tumbled through his gut, the uncertainty of what he’d find weighing heavy on his conscience. He took a calming breath and yanked the doors apart, peering into the black space. A rickety set of steps descended into the cellar, the bottom few rows fading into the darkness. Blake swung one leg over the lip, wishing he’d brought more batteries, though he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. The last thing he needed was to give the entity that had grabbed Payton more energy to feed off of.

The damp air hung heavy in his chest, the strong musty aroma bringing back more than a few memories of his previous case. He tried to push them aside as he reached the bottom, squinting into the darkness. The grayish light faded into black as he moved away from the steps, making his way across the room. The beams above him squeaked and he coughed as a cloud of dust drifted down from the rafters. Something hit the floor overhead, followed by an eerie scraping sound.

He cursed as he made his way to the far wall, feeling along the brick until he found the main electrical box. He opened the panel and flipped the switch, cutting off the power. Though it was unlikely the spirit could use that form of energy, he wasn’t about to take any chances—not with Payton’s life on the line.

Blake closed the panel and groped his way over to the stairs, wrapping his hand around the thin wooden rail. He took the stairs slowly, trying to avoid making any unnecessary noise. The old steps whispered a groan of protest, but not before he’d crested the top stair. He palmed the tarnished handle and turned, surprised when the door gave easily against his weight. He slivered it open, checking the hallway before darting through. The main room was off to his right with a narrow stairway behind him on the left.

A loud thud sounded above him and he turned, glancing up the stairs. He didn’t like the surge of energy he felt emanating from the area, as if the air was charged. He took a deep breath, looking one last time toward the main room before making his way slowly up the stairs. His heart hammered an answering beat with every step he took, thundering blood in his ears as he rounded the small landing and continued to the top floor. A short hallway stretched out in front of him, ending in a closed door.

The fine scent of her perfume lingered in the air and he moved across the floor to the doorway, banging on the hard wood. “Payton?”

Her startled gasp penetrated the door as she pounded against the other side. “Blake?”

“Easy, sweetheart. I’m here.” He tried the handle. “I can’t get in. You have to unlock the door.”

“It isn’t locked, but I can’t get it open.” She sobbed once then hit the door again. “Something dragged me up here and I haven’t been able to leave since.”

Blake muttered another curse and reached into his pocket, removing a bag of salt. He tossed a handful at the door, stepping back when the tiny crystals sparked on contact. A low howl sounded from downstairs and he knew he didn’t have much time.

“Payton. Back away from the door and cover your face.”

He listened to her muffled steps recede before pouring a line of salt on the threshold. Then he removed a bottle of holy water and splashed it against the door. The wood cracked and heaved, bulging outward against the water. Tendrils of smoke rose from the surface before it ignited and the door blew apart, sending shards of wood across the room.

Blake coughed, waving his hand to clear some of the smoke and debris as he stepped through the broken frame, searching for Payton. She stumbled toward him, her face dotted with ash and dust. He reached for her but she drew back, the color draining from her face. Her hand went to her throat just as a blast of hot air coasted over his shoulders followed by a menacing growl.

Moonlight cast the room in a hallowed glow as Blake lunged forward, taking Payton to the ground. He rolled them toward the window, tossing a handful of salt behind him. A shriek of pain bellowed through the room. Blake reached for his belt, pulling his salt launcher free as he twisted to face the door. A dark mist shimmered before him, the distorted figure billowing forward. He drew Payton close to him, burying her face in his shoulder as he aimed at the spirit and fired.

A bright spark sent a burst of light through the room, sending up a curl of smoke just as the launcher recoiled in his hand, shooting a small projectile at the ghost. The mist swirled together, sharpening into the silhouette of a man. A worn cowboy hat topped his head while a long leather coat covered most of his body. Dark eyes stared at Blake, the ghost’s grim face twisted with rage. The sound of spurs jingled in the silence, the high-pitched noise cut off by the sudden explosion. A cloud of white crystals erupted into the air, spraying a fine layer across the apparition. The ghost tilted its head skyward and roared in pain as his form blurred at the edges, the solid lines finally fading into the graying mist. It twisted through the air then disappeared, nothing but a smudge of black as evidence on the floor. Blake yanked Payton to her feet and ran for the door. She followed, her hand tight in his, her breath rasping behind him. They darted through the debris as they raced down the stairs, heading through the main room. Payton’s grip tightened as they stopped at the door, but it gave easily beneath his weight and he ran along the path, ushering her to the passenger door.

Payton climbed in, locking the door as he jumped in the other side. The engine roared to life and the truck lurched forward, peeling into the street in a cloud of burned rubber.

Payton glanced behind them, her lips a thin line across her face. “What the hell was all that?”

Blake spared her a quick look before banking the truck around a corner. “An angry spirit who seems to have taken quite a liking to you.”

“Did you kill it?”

He shook his head. “You can’t kill what’s already dead, sweetheart. But I did disperse its energy for a while.”

Her face paled. “What happens when he gets it back?”

“He comes looking for you.”

He heard her sharp inhale as she stared at the road ahead. “So now what?”

“I take you somewhere safe for the night. Then, with any luck, we can learn more about your friend tomorrow…maybe find a way to put his ass to rest. Permanently.” He smiled at her concerned frown. “Don’t worry. I know just the place.”

Payton sighed and leaned back in the seat, watching Blake as they headed across town. His features blinked in and out of focus as the passing streetlights lit the interior, shading half his face in bright light. He didn’t seemed fazed at all by their encounter, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d somehow let him down. Despite all she’d claimed, she’d still needed to be rescued like some dime novel damsel. Hell, she might just as well change her name to Daphne and be done with it.

The thought made her frown, and she tried to distract herself with the passing scenery. But every shadow seemed to jump out at her, the blurred edges holding a promise of the creepy apparition they’d left behind. Or had they?

“Blake. Wait!”

The truck lurched as Blake’s attention faltered, but he recovered quickly before looking over at her. “Jesus, Payton. Don’t scare me like that.”

She suppressed the hysterical giggle that bubbled in her chest. “Me scare you? We just fought off some kind of evil ghost and me saying your name is what scares you?”

“You didn’t say it, you screamed it.” He shrugged. “I don’t like ghosts, but at least I know how to deal with them.” He nodded at her. “You, on the other hand, are one of those alien creatures called women. I don’t have a clue about your kind.”

“Men.” She huffed out an exasperated breath. “And I didn’t scream. I just spoke loudly…to get your attention.”

“You’ve got it.”

She resisted rolling her eyes. “You said before that this—thing might be attached to my energy?”

“I’d say that’s the safest bet. For it to have followed us across town and back, not to mention dragging you upstairs like it did. It’s got to be bound to you somehow.”

“Then how are we going to find a safe place? Are we even safe inside the truck?”

He grinned at her, patting her thigh. She ignored the way her body heated at his simple touch, or how her stomach fluttered at the thought of his hand moving up her leg. Though he’d flirted during dinner, he hadn’t made any concrete indication that he’d agreed to come here for any other reason than to help her out. But she had to admit, the thought of them being lovers was more than tempting.

His fingers squeezed her gently. “I’m fairly certain our tactics back there drained him of his available energy. By the time he refuels, we’ll be okay. Besides, I made sure this truck has enough bits of iron placed through the frame to ward off most evil spirits.”

“Iron. Salt. How the hell do you know all this stuff? And what is that tube strapped to your belt that seemed to make him disappear back at the gallery?”

Blake loosened the device and handed it to her, smiling at the frown she felt curving her lips. “It’s a modified potato launcher. This lever releases a small canister of flammable air into the rear chamber, then that button creates a spark and voila. Instant launcher.” He turned it over for her. “I put in containers filled with salt. The heat and pressure degrade the covering, and it explodes a few feet away. Think of it as a ghost pellet gun.” He met her gaze. “As for knowing all this stuff. Most of it’s folklore…tidbits we dig up on the internet. Just so happens, some of it’s also true.”

“God, Blake. This is insane.” She stared back at the road. “I never should have called you.”

Blake cursed and pulled the truck over to the side of the road, shoving it in park. He turned to face her, framing her face in hands. “What you should have done was call me weeks ago. Hell, months ago when this first started happening. Do you have any idea how badly tonight could have ended?” His jaw clenched, an emotion crossing his features she didn’t want to interpret. “This isn’t Casper, sweetheart, and it’s anything but friendly.”

Tears stung her eyes at the honesty in his voice. She hadn’t realized how much she cared for him until the prospect of losing him had hit home. But as she sat there, his hands caressing her skin, all she could think about was making the most of each moment. Of bleeding every heartbeat out of the time they had left before something more deadly happened.

Blake’s eyes narrowed and he slipped one hand around her neck, gently pulling her closer. His lips brushed hers before he rested his forehead on hers. “I promised you I wouldn’t let anything bad happen, and I’ll keep that promise. Trust me.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the spicy scent of him. “I do.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Good. Now hold tight. We’ll be there soon.”

Payton felt the loss of his body as a physical blow to her gut as he twisted around and pulled back onto the road. The steady hum of the tires soothed her nerves and she drifted off, waking up several minutes later as the truck bounced along a gravel road. She shook the fuzziness from her head, peering into the night, wondering why they were up in the hills.

“I thought we were going somewhere safe?” She glanced at him before waving at the surrounding landscape. “There’s nothing up here but old deserted buildings from the late 1800s. Not exactly ghost proof. In fact, I bet they harbor their own family of spirits.”

“At least they aren’t trying to kill us.” Blake winked at her. “Trust me, sweetheart. It’ll be safe.”

Payton shook her head. “You know I trust you it’s just…I’m starting to think your idea of safe and mine are two very different things.”

He chuckled, taking a small dirt track off to his right. The truck rattled, the shocks groaning as the tires hit deep ruts, tossing a layer of dirt off to the side. Payton held on, wondering how far this safe haven was when Blake slowed to a stop. She gazed out the window, waiting for the dust cloud to settle before drawing a sharp breath as she turned toward Blake.

“This is your idea of a sanctuary?”

He grinned, looking outside before staring at her. “Not what you were expecting?”

“It’s an abandoned church.”

“An abandoned church that hasn’t been desecrated.”

She gawked at him. “How the hell do you even know that?”

“I’ve been here before. Everything’s pretty much intact—just a few missing pews. But there are still crosses on the wall and a raised pulpit at one end. More than enough to be considered holy.”