Witching Hour (17 page)

Cal barely registered the man’s question, still arranging his supplies. “Unfortunately, Avery’s got his own problems to deal with. Somehow Dylan and Annie managed to free some kind of serial killer spirit, and with neither of them being hunters, they need all the help they can get.” He gave Brandon a hardened look. “It’s up to us. And I for one am not willing to wait another minute before sending this witch packing. But if you’re having a change of heart…”

He left the question hanging, but Jordan could tell by the firm press of Brandon’s jaw the man wasn’t about to back down. She gave him a reassuring smile as she watched Cal remove her belt. He’d refilled her containers and had added a few more, citing she couldn’t have too much. She’d smiled her thanks, secretly hoping she wouldn’t have to use all of it, but aware it might not be enough.

Cal shrugged into a vest then turned, pointing to the house. “If we’re right, we’ve only got about five minutes before our leading lady makes her appearance. Once she’s free, she’s not going to simply let us hunt through the attic looking for her stash of personal items. Rings of salt and holy water should hold her off for a bit if you get trapped.”

Brandon frowned. “I get not wanting to wait, but are you sure it’s wise to do this now? Why not find the personal effects during the day then just wait for her to come out at night and then burn them?”

Cal sighed, grabbing some lanterns out of the trunk before slamming it shut. “Because whatever she’s taking is most likely crossing over with her once she disappears; otherwise they’d have been destroyed in the other fires, and she’d only have a handful of spirits. There’s no way she’d be this strong without a significant amount of energy to draw on. It’s all part of the spell. Since she casts it as a ghost, the objects she steals from her victims stay with her in that form. We’ll need her to appear in order for them to materialize.”

Brandon kicked at the gravel. “Okay, it’s official. I’m crazy. Some kind of post-traumatic stress I bet. Now I’m carrying salt and seeing ghosts. Your brother warned me you were all a bit crazy. I should’ve believed him.”

Cal gave the man a pat on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine as long as we stick together. And don’t let her touch you. She can’t manifest a possession if she can’t make physical contact.”

Brandon laughed, though it didn’t sound as if he was amused. “Right. Don’t let the semi-transparent apparition that walks through walls and floors touch you when it just pops up wherever it feels like it. Great safety tip, Cal. Very helpful.”

Cal smiled at the man then turned to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the car? We can handcuff you now…just in case.”

“And if you broke the connection with those cleanses you did, then what? I just sit here and pray you guys can handle it all on your own? Brandon’s not even a hunter.” She waved at the man. “No offence.”

“None taken. I’m starting to think that I should be the one to stay here cuffed to the damn car.”

Cal ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll all go. Just let me know if either of you starts to feel off. Anger seems to be her prime emotion, and it passes on to the host.”

Jordan didn’t miss the wounded edge to his voice. She moved in beside him as they headed up the path toward the house. “There something you want to tell me about my behavior last night?”

He glanced at her, giving her a wink. “I quite approve of your
behavior
, sweetheart.”

“Not the part where we were in bed together, jackass. The part where she passes anger on to her victims. Did I do or say something to you I should know about?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, the line of his back visibly tensing. “Nothing worth noting.”

His tone held a hurt quality to it she’d only ever heard when he talked about Dave.

She grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. Brandon stumbled behind them, nearly colliding with Cal before glancing at her. He sucked in a rough breath, mumbling something about checking his supplies as he took a few steps away, giving them the semblance of privacy.

Cal huffed, gently removing her hand from his arm. “We really don’t have time for this.”

“We’ll make time.” She held up a finger, silencing any protest. “If things don’t go our way, we could die here. And I’ll be damned if I go to the grave with unresolved issues between us.”

“There aren’t any unresolved issues. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

“And I love you, but I obviously did or said something that’s rattling around in that brain of yours. What was it?”

He looked away, drawing himself up before facing her again. “You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. That it’s my fault Dave’s dead. That it should’ve been me, instead.”

Her stomach dropped, sending a rush of nausea coursing through her. She shook her head, raising her hand to her mouth to keep the crest of bile in the back of her throat from surfacing. “Oh, god. Cal. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

He cupped his hands under her jaw, moving in until his lips hovered mere inches from hers. “Because if I can’t see how much you love me with every smile, every touch, every damn kiss…then I’m the one with the problem. It’s taken me ten years to come to terms with that night, but I finally understand that it wasn’t Dave talking to me. It was Mary. And I’ll be damned if I let her get between us with something as insignificant as my own fears.”

He closed the distance, crushing his mouth to hers. She returned his burning need, putting everything into that one kiss, praying it wouldn’t be their last.

He gave her a small smile as he pulled back, brushing his finger over her mouth before nodding. “Ready?”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned and headed for the porch, taking the steps in two strides. He didn’t even pause at the door, shouldering it open and striding inside. He looked confident, determined, the firm line of his back broadcasting that he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than complete success. She followed him through the door, stopping behind him when he paused at the stairs.

He looked back across his shoulder at them. “Once we get up there, I’d like you to show me where you found the book, if you remember. It’s as good a place as any to start.”

“Should I put it back there?”

“I don’t think it matters where it is. I found it in the bushes, yet she still managed to appear and disappear at will when we came after you. Just stay close.”

Jordan swallowed, creeping up the stairs behind Cal, occasionally checking behind her. Brandon had the rear, looking as if he wished he was anywhere but there. She gave him an encouraging smile, rounding the top step and heading for the door leading up to the attic. It groaned in protest as Cal shoved it open, careful not to bang it too loudly as he took the next set of stairs, once again stopping at the top. His body tensed as he took a visible breath before sliding the wooden door open and moving inside.

Jordan shuffled into the room, a strange weight pressing between her shoulder blades. She glanced around, searching for anything that seemed vaguely familiar, only to be bombarded with snapshots of different memories from within the room. Finding the book on the table. The witch hovering over her. Cal’s arms wrapped around her as she dangled out the window.

She gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth when the other men looked at her. She shook her head, waving them off as she led them across the room, halting by the table. She pointed at the left side of the surface. “It was just sitting there as if someone had left it behind after reading it.”

Cal frowned as he turned on a few lanterns, placing them around the room, chasing away a few of the shadows. “We know it doesn’t cross over with her. Hell, it’s been in our room the entire day. But it seems strange it’d just be out here for someone to stumble upon. Anyone could have taken it.”

“I imagine she’s memorized the other spell by now. Probably doesn’t need it to perform the ceremony.”

“True. But something this important to her wouldn’t be left to chance. If it was sitting out in the open, then it’s because she wanted you to find it.”

“But why…”

Jordan’s words were drowned out by the eerie echo of a gong. She glanced toward the door, a shiver crawling along her spine as a familiar scent tickled her senses. It was dry and woody, with hints of lemon and pine. She had a strange feeling she’d encountered it before, but couldn’t quite remember where as more gongs sounded below. She nudged Cal. “It’s midnight.”

Cal nodded. “Showtime. Remember, don’t let her touch you.”

He bent over, inscribing a ring of holy water on the floor. She stared at the wavering surface, when a tune started playing in her head. She hummed along, not really conscious of the melody as she reached for Cal’s arm, the world turning an odd shade of red. She watched as her fingers locked around him, his gaze falling to hers. Shock lit his features a moment before she heard a voice rasp from her throat.

“Too late.”

A surge of energy pulsed through her, catapulting her backwards. She slammed against the far wall, snapping her head against the plaster as she slid to the floor, the room blurring out of focus. A man yelled to her through the haze, the pain finally lifting enough she could blink the fuzziness away. Brandon was still standing in the ring Cal had made with the water, his face white, a handful of salt slowly pouring onto the ground. But Cal wasn’t with him.

She swept her gaze around the room, drawn to a dark silhouette crouched near the door. He had his hands clasped around his head, his body trembling in the moonlight. She palmed the wall, levering herself, still bracing her weight with one hand when the figure turned to look at her. Red eyes glowed in the darkness, making his pale skin gleam amidst the shadows.

“Oh, god. Cal.”

Panic sent her pulse racing as she watched him rise, his gaze taking in the room. He took a step forward, tripping against the wall as if his feet hadn’t moved right. He gave his head a shake, blinking rapidly before turning to look at her.

Familiar blue stared back at her as he grimaced in pain. “The charms. Find them. Hurry.”

He shouted something she couldn’t make out, banging his shoulder against the wall before lunging for the stairs and barreling out the door. Footsteps clattered down the steps, followed by a loud tumbling.

Jordan ran over to Brandon, giving him a rough shake. “We need to find those binding objects before she comes back. Cal won’t be able to hold her off for long.”

Brandon shook his head, pointing at the doorway. “What the hell just happened? I thought you were possessed, not him.”

“He was right. That bitch was still somewhere inside my head. Because I was inside the ring with Cal, she was able to transfer to him when I touched him. You can’t let him touch you until this is done. Now hurry.”

She gave the man a shove, searching under the table then over toward the corner. She heard Brandon move in the opposite direction, the rustle of boxes indicating he’d pulled himself together. Something toppled beyond the door, the tinny echo cascading gooseflesh along her arms. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Cal was doing. How he was somehow maintaining minimal control over the witch’s power. But she knew it was only a matter of time before they returned, and he made a play for the window. And if she didn’t find what was binding the other spirits to the ghost, she’d lose Cal.

Jordan rummaged through more clutter, nothing but tattered clothes and old newspaper littering the space. She ran over to the other side, moving anything within reach out of the way. Dust clogged her throat, making her cough as she sorted through some old china and glasses.

Brandon appeared at her side, his face smudged with grime. “I can’t find anything. Maybe they aren’t up here?”

“She guards this place like a damn lion. They’ve got to be here.” She pushed over a small table, looking on the underside, frustration pushing her to her feet. “Fuck!”

She kicked at the old wood, embracing the slight sting when a thought hit her. She turned, scanning the room. “The fires.”

Brandon furrowed his brow. “What about them?”

“Cal said that in order to have this kind of power, she’d had to have bound hundreds of spirits to her. Which means it’s been ongoing since the house first burnt down. What if they don’t appear and disappear with her? What if they’re somewhere safe where the fire couldn’t reach them?”

“I thought that meant the foundation? But it’s not stone up here.”

Jordan gasped. “There’s a chimney stack along that far wall. Maybe that’s where the book was hidden in the original house, too.”

She made for the stone structure, screaming when the witch appeared in front of her, hair billowing back, mouth twisted into a snarl. Jordan lunged to her right, tossing salt at the apparition as she rolled across the floor. The ghost shrieked, the shrill sound rattling the dishes as tiny sparks erupted on the swirling mist surrounding her where the salt hit her form. The assault seemed to slow her down, an angry growl accompanying the hiss of the particles flaming out.

Jordan scrambled to her feet, backing up toward the chimney when Brandon attacked the witch from the other side, spraying holy water over her floating form. The ghostly woman screamed, shooting upwards as she spiraled in on herself, finally winking out, leaving the scent of sulfur in the air.

Jordan darted to the chimney, waving at Brandon. “Hurry. It won’t take her long to recharge.”

She didn’t wait to see if he intended on joining her as she moved her hands along the stones, trying each one to see if it would budge. Brandon ran to the other end, copying her action, shaking each stone in turn before moving to the next. Nothing seemed to work until she reached the corner, shifting one of the stones at the bottom. The rock scraped across the wood, the raspy sound loud in the still room. She scratched at the mortar, wiggling the stone back and forth until it popped free, leaving a dark hole in its wake.

Another screech rang through the air, and she knew the witch was on a rampage. Jordan reached in, feeling around, gasping when something ran across her hand before she pulled it back, staring at the handkerchief clutched between her fingers. Swirling letters adorned one side, the once white cotton covered in dust.