Whispering Hearts (24 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

As soon as Garrett left, Rachel went to work. She lit incense in her censer and refilled the saltwater bottle, then headed to Garrett's room. Walking through the house, she tried to keep her focus. Her mind kept wandering to her friends.

Were they okay? Was Garrett putting himself in even greater danger by trying to help them?

There was nothing she could do about that. All she could do was make the house safe for them whenever they managed to arrive.

She also wanted it to be safe for Dylan. Or Misha. Whoever he was. She even still wanted to help the women who were haunting her, though at this point that probably meant helping them to cross over rather than resolving their issues. She couldn't believe how far they were going—how angry they felt just that she had survived.

Rachel's own issues were fighting against her as well. She made a line of salt in front of the garage door rather than cleansing it. Garrett would be returning through the garage and she'd have to cleanse the space again anyway after he pulled in, especially the way it was raining. She had never heard such a storm. Better to just block off the garage from the rest of the house for now.

When she reached the guest room, she paused again. Misha or Dylan—whoever he was—had seemed comfortable talking to her in this room. And she preferred the comparatively controlled environment to talking outside. There were too many variables in the yard, too many ways things could sneak up on her.

Plus, she liked the idea of letting Dylan stay inside with them. As Garrett's brother, she wanted this to be his home too.

She made a new line of salt across the threshold, then took the censer back to the kitchen and set it on a trivet on the counter. After hesitating for a moment, she set the spray bottle next to it. Walking into the room carrying the equivalent of a shotgun wasn't the reception she wanted for the troubled spirit—Misha or Dylan.

It was time to figure out who this guy was and what he needed. Rachel headed back to the room. She stepped over the barrier carefully.

“Misha? Are you here? I'd like to talk to you.”

She listened intently for his response, but heard nothing but the rain pounding against the window. A shrill sound broke in, rattling around in her head. She jumped, heart pounding.

It was her phone. She had brought it back to her room before cleansing the house so that she wouldn't lose track of it.

Strange that it suddenly had a signal again. Maybe a tower had been struck by lightning like Garrett thought and repairs were just finished.

She ran to the bedside table and picked it up. The caller ID read
Jazz
.

“Hello?”

Without preamble Jazz said, “Are you absolutely sure that Michael is gone?”

Rachel felt a chill that shot straight through to her bones. Why did people keep asking her that?

“He was cremated.” She sounded unsure, even to herself.

Jazz's voice kept cutting out as she spoke, like the signal wasn't stable.

“I know…if…found…connection…could…possess…someone?”

“Possession?” Rachel's stomach clenched again and the icy feeling in her bones intensified.

No way. He would still need an anchor, some physical remains. He couldn't—

Jazz said, “Oh God—” just before the call died.

The door slammed shut.

All the hair on Rachel's arms stood on end as the room dropped in temperature. She felt a cold breath on the back of her neck.

“Hello, Rachel.”

She dropped her phone on the bed, then ran to the door and tried the handle. It turned, but the door wouldn't budge. She pulled as hard as she could, then threw herself against it, but nothing happened. Slowly, she turned around and took a few hesitant steps back into the room.

“Dramatic as always, I see.”

She pinched her lips shut and closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Michael…

“You look lovely, my dear.”
Lines of cold traced down her arms like fingertips, lingering over the scars on her wrists. Michael let out a contented,
“Mmm…”

“What do you want?” Her voice crackled as she forced the words out.

“You, of course. I have a little harem on this side, and you will be my crown jewel.”
He chuckled.
“I thought Elsa was the strongest one, but you… You surprised me, Rachel. When you
killed
me.”

The paintings on the walls rattled as the room shook. How was he so powerful? How was he even here? None of it made sense.

“It was self-defense,” she whispered.

“It was selfish. Short-sighted. Like everything you do.”
The cold traced over her cheek, freezing the tears on her face.
“Don't worry. I forgive you.”

She turned her face away from his touch, just like she had done in his garage when he held her prisoner. It had been so long since she had felt a spirit's hands on her. Her flesh was crawling.

“My ladies can't wait for you to join us. They told me they warned you about what would happen if you killed me. But you didn't listen.”
He laughed again.
“Another of your strongest suits—only paying attention to yourself.”

Her heart broke at his words. She had been selfish for so long, focused on not hearing ghosts to the point that she didn't listen to her friends.

Elsa had warned Rachel about Michael, and she hadn't listened. Rachel had known Garrett loved her, but she'd ignored it instead of telling him straight out that they couldn't be involved or explaining the situation and discovering that they could.

She had wasted so much time. And she wasn't sure how much she had left.

“I'm grateful, actually. Death is much more fun than being alive. If I had known, I would have arranged this years ago. There are so many things I have to teach you, but I want to wait till you're here with me. I want you to feel everything I do to you—and you
will
feel it.”

His hands were on her shoulders. She had nowhere to run.

“I've been practicing on the others,”
he said.
“Warming myself up for you.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. Those poor women. She had to help them somehow.

“I've been experimenting on someone else too. Someone close to you, though you've never met.”

What was he talking about? Hiram maybe? But Hiram had crossed over. She prayed it wasn't Dylan.

“He's been teaching me all kinds of interesting tricks—how to slip into bodies like a fine suit. When I'm done with him, I'm sure I'll have no problem finding another meat-puppet to play with. And another and another.”

His cold breath brushed her ear.
“I will kill so many women, Rachel. In so many ways. Ways I haven't even imagined yet. And the men I use to do it…”

He chuckled.
“They won't be able to stop me. I'll twist them around inside until they won't know where they stop and I begin. I will remake them in my image. And you'll be right at my side to watch. Forever.”

No. No no no. This was not going to happen. She would find whatever part of his body was left and destroy it. She would find a way to end his twisted soul permanently.

“I can see what you're thinking,”
he half-sang.
“I studied you, remember? I'm in your head as much as
his
. He just doesn't realize it yet. But he will. The moment I use his hands to crush Ms. Zhou's throat. When he hears me laugh while she dies and tries again to sort out his thoughts from mine.”

“Stay the
hell
away from my friends!”

Rachel dove for the reading chair and hefted it over her head, then threw it at the window. Glass shattered, some of it falling into the room as a blast of rain-drenched wind hit her.

The chair lodged in the window. Rachel shoved it as hard as she could. It crashed to the ground on the other side. She hopped up onto the windowsill, ignoring the warning from her primal brain about the sharp glass that was scraping her arms, ignoring…

A low rumble sounded from the ground below. Instinct kicked in and she lurched back just as an alligator struck, its jaws clacking shut inches from her face.

She stumbled backward through the broken glass, not stopping when the backs of her knees hit the bed. Even though the alligator couldn't climb into her room, she kept moving away, crab-walking over the mattress. She was breathing so fast her vision was tunneling.

Calm. She needed to be calm. She couldn't help anyone if she was unconscious. And goddammit, she was going to protect her friends.

She took a few deep breaths, her body quaking with adrenaline. The sheets were sticking to her arms and legs where she'd been cut. Pain began to register.

She checked her wounds and found that most of them weren't too deep. Some still had small bits of glass in them. She steeled her nerves and picked them out, throwing them toward the window.

“Keep cutting.”
Michael's voice was right at her ear, but she didn't flinch.
“That's a nice piece there. Use it on yourself. Maybe I'm haunting you, and it will stop me. Or you can have a go at me from this side.”

He nuzzled her ear, the cold almost burning.
“I would love to see you try.”

Rachel was adept at ignoring spirits. She used that skill, picking up the edge of her sheet and wiping away some of the blood on her arms. A flash of blue-green glass caught her eye and she quickly covered it back up.

The witch's ball. She had forgotten about it after taking it down and putting it under the sheet.

Her mind began to race. With Michael in the room already, using it would be the equivalent of a flash-bang grenade. He would probably be confused and startled at the least.

But he could retreat to the person he was possessing. Having a living body as a shelter in addition to whatever piece of him was anchoring him to the physical plane… That explained a lot about his strength and abilities.

He had been strong-willed and extremely charismatic when he was alive—his psychopathic focus was no doubt serving him on the other side. She had seen his type before in the prisoners her mother exposed her to. But Michael… He was even more dangerous.

From what he said and the powers he was already demonstrating, he was well on his way to becoming a demon—if Rachel didn't stop him.

Hiram and Chloe weren't here to help this time. She was on her own. All she had was the ball, and while it would distract Michael, she doubted it would affect the alligator outside her window.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, keeping the witch's ball hidden in the sheets she brought with her. She pretended she was using them to staunch the blood on her arms.

Pain from the cuts on her feet lanced up her legs. She didn't let that stop her from approaching the window, carefully avoiding more glass. Water was still coming in through the hole she'd made, wetting the floor. Her blood stained it red.

Peering out, she saw the alligator sitting on the wet ground. Its eyes glowed blue, the same shade as Michael's only lit with a preternatural light. She jerked back a few steps as it opened its mouth and hissed.

Michael laughed.
“Do you like my little pets? They certainly liked your friend Garrett.”

She turned her head toward the sound of his voice. Garrett should be at the hospital by now.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he made them a substantial meal.”

“No, Garrett left, he—”

“Do you really think after you strung him along for years, then finally let him rut in your body that he would be able to go? He turned around to come back. Of course, with this little storm I prepared for him, he didn't get far. I made sure my friends gave him an exuberant welcome.”

Michael clacked his spectral teeth together.

She was shaking again, but this time it was rage. Garrett couldn't be… Especially not that way.

Michael must have read her expression.

“The good doctor is dead. He is dead because he loved you. And love is the most dangerous thing of all. Women are not to be trusted. They will trap you and torment you. He learned this at the end. My gift to him.”

The storm had stopped. She noticed it with numb detachment. The storm that Michael had used to kill Garrett… Only a gentle drizzle remained.

“It was my gift to you too, Rachel. I can do more than make you suffer. I wanted you to see I can make you happy as well. Give you what you want. Pleasure is an excellent appetizer for pain.”

A chill breeze hit her ear again, creeping down her neck and along her back and arms. Michael was standing right behind her, running his hands along her body.

He was still playing God, only this time with her heart instead of her life. He had pushed her toward Garrett, made sure she had a taste of happiness greater than any she had ever experienced. And then he had taken it away.

“I am the only one who truly understands you,”
he said.
“Who you are, what you can do. We don't need to worry about anyone getting between us anymore. Garrett has already crossed over. He didn't even think to wait, to help you. But I waited. I'm here. For you. All you have to do is join me.”

He wanted to break her, to control her. But instead of despair, all she felt was rage.

If she thought she had a chance of taking Michael out from the other side, she just might try. But with how well he could manipulate the physical world, she didn't want to think about what he could do to other spirits. He had always been a master manipulator.

Rachel was finished being his puppet.

She felt his hands on her shoulders as if he was urging her forward. His voice was gentle.
“Take your pick—my pet or the glass. I recommend the window. It'll be cleaner.”