Witching Hour (4 page)

She walked over to a small table, drawn to a shadowed silhouette on the left side of it. Smooth leather greeted her fingers as she shifted the object over, positioning it in the center of the table. A cold breeze rustled her hair and she jerked her head around, scanning the room for movement. More shadows stared back at her, and she shivered as she shook the unsettling feeling away, focusing on the book.

Dust covered the surface, the thick layer blocking out any kind of decorations or print. She lowered her head and blew some of the dust away, waving her hand when it billowed into the air. Though it was hard to distinguish, she was able to make out a few raised letters on the volume.

“Winslow.”

The name echoed through the room, the last syllable lingering longer than normal. She glanced around again then turned back, brushing the remaining grime off the front. An intricate square occupied the upper corner, the distinctive W decorated with vines and leaves. She traced her fingertips across the raised letter, marveling in each tiny swirl and dip. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen workmanship like this, not on a cover, and she couldn’t help but wonder how old it was.

Jordan set the flashlight on the table, illuminating the book as she carefully untied the strap holding the pages closed. The leather felt smooth with a hint of smoke infused in the material. She eased back the cover, gently pressing it down as she tried to read the words penned across the yellowed page.

“
Ab igne novo ordine, resurgent.
”

She repeated the words in her head, wishing she’d paid more attention in school. It had something to do with resurrection, but other than that, she’d have to look up the damn inscription to fully understand its meaning.

She moved her fingertip down the page, trying to decipher a number of faded drawings when she brushed over another raised pattern. Unlike the decorative letters on the cover, this felt soft. She moved the flashlight closer, drawing a deep breath as the image glared back at her, the outline traced in wax.

“A pentagram.” She frowned. “An upside-down pentagram. Damn.”

While Latin wasn’t her strong suit, there was no mistaking the connotation of the symbol, or that she’d likely stumbled upon something far more dangerous than the average ghost. She closed the cover and studied the front again. Whatever this book was, she doubted anything good had ever come from it.

Jordan retied the leather straps and positioned the book in the center of the table again, aware that she might have found the first concrete clue to unraveling her brother’s death. But how was she supposed to study the contents when she didn’t even know if she’d get permission to return?

“Nice going, Jordan. After all this time, you’re actually turning into nothing more than a thief.”

She sighed. She’d do her investigation, hopefully gather some other evidence—then she’d simply take the volume out to her car where she’d have enough light to take photographs of the pages with her phone. And she’d be sure to put the damn thing back exactly where she’d found it.

“Yeah, right in the middle of the creepy attic.”

She shook her head, turning to the window when an echoing gong drifted through the air. She froze, listening to the odd sound repeat over and over, wondering what the hell it was when the answer popped into her head. A grandfather clock. Midnight.

She groaned inwardly, praying the property management company didn’t have security guards on retainer as she moved around the room, flashing the light on the other shadowed mounds. She asked questions as she went, hoping her recorder would pick up some replies as she searched every inch, finally stopping again as she stared at the window. Though moonlight gleamed through the smeared glass, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to venture over.

Pain tumbled through her gut as she forced herself to move, each step taking her closer to the old glass pane. She stopped just shy of reaching it, fingering the small latch holding it closed. It rattled beneath her touch, but didn’t budge when she tried to push it open. A volley of questions ran through her mind as she went to one knee to get a better look. The tarnished brass was smeared with dirt, but intact.

She frowned, examining the closure more closely. But even with the light centered on the metal, she couldn’t see any marks suggesting it’d been replaced. Not even the wood looked cracked.

“How the hell do you break a latch and not have any evidence of it?”

The answer lingered unspoken in the dark room, the silence broken only by the pounding of her pulse in her head. Her brother hadn’t simply fallen out of the window. It’d opened of its own accord.

“No.
Something
opened it.”

Her words sounded loud in the room, the truth in them making the air feel heavy until it took all her concentration just to breathe. She pushed to her feet, staring out the window when a cold breeze rustled past her neck.

Jordan spun around, scanning the room, searching for the source of the cool air. A flicker of light on the table with the book caught her attention, and she walked over to it, when an explosion of white enveloped the room. She stumbled backwards, falling onto her ass when her foot caught on a box. She hit hard, choking on a billow of dust as pain flared through her pelvis. She cursed, squinting against the glare when her flashlight winked out, and everything went black, temporarily blinding her.

Energy prickled the hairs on her arms, sending another wave of gooseflesh skittering along her skin. Her breath lodged in her chest as she rolled to her feet, shaking her flashlight. The hollow sound of the batteries shuffling inside was her only answer.

“Did you drain my batteries so you could communicate?” She inched forward, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the moonlight again. “What are you trying to tell me? Are you still here?”

She moved to the middle of the room, listening for any indication she wasn’t alone when a hiss sounded behind her. She turned, tripping backwards as the apparition of a woman hovered mere inches away, its ghostly form blurring into the surroundings. An intense scowl curved pale lips as it stared at her, hair billowing backwards, eyes flashing red. Jordan took a few steadying breaths, wondering what to ask the spirit when its head tilted back, and a shrill shriek shattered the silence. The noise sent a stinging pain through her head, and Jordan covered her ears, moving toward the stairs again. The ghost sneered, disappearing in a ball of light.

Jordan tried to steady her breathing as she darted forward, nearly falling as her equilibrium shifted, slamming her against the wall. She shook the feeling off before grabbing the book and turning back to the far door. She took two steps when the ghost reappeared, a swirling white mist curling toward the floor. It pointed a long, bony finger at her, muttering words she didn’t understand.

A burning sensation crept along the back of Jordan’s neck, building into a searing pain. She reached for her belt, removing a bottle as she strode toward the spirit. The woman hissed again, muttering more words, growing larger as her form rose into the air. Jordan stopped a few feet away, one hand holding the book as the other popped the lid off the bottle.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m just here to gather evidence.”

An eerie laugh echoed through the room as a cruel smile twisted the ghost’s lips. “Mine.”

The mist shot toward her, wrapping around her legs and pulling her onto her ass. Her breath knocked out of her as her back and head hit the floor, sending black dots fluttering across her vision. More heat flared along her skin, sending a roll of nausea through her stomach. She levered onto her knees, dodging another whirl of the mist as she readied the bottle, managing to flick some of the holy water at the ghost. The spirit howled, curling in on itself before vanishing into the shadows.

Jordan stumbled to her feet, staggering toward the door. She hit the wall again, using it to brace herself as she crossed through the doorway, somehow making her way down the stairs without falling. Shrieks and noises sounded behind her, but she didn’t stop to check as she ran along the hallway, taking the next set of stairs when they appeared off to her left. Her footsteps echoed through the house, the frantic sound mimicking the erratic thrash of her heart as she made for the door, skidding to a halt when the apparition sprang up in front of her, its face twisted with rage.

She grabbed another bottle, this time drawing a ring of salt around her. The ghost surged forward only to bounce back as it hit the thin line. It snarled, trying again, screaming at the ceiling when it was repelled a second time. A low growl lit the air a moment before it winked out of sight.

Jordan stood her ground, waiting until she thought the thing had left for good before darting out the door. Invisible hands grabbed at her sweater, trying to hold her prisoner on the porch when a beam of light hit her face. She screamed and leaned forward, falling down the few short steps when the force holding her released its grip. Another round of dots danced behind her closed eyes, and she didn’t fight the numbing haze that pulled at her. The leather book bounced out of her hands as her knuckles impacted the gravel, scraping rocks across her skin.

Voices sounded in the background before a set of hands gave her a shake. She groaned, her mind fuzzy as she pried her eyelids open, squinting against the harsh light. A man’s face wavered in front of her, his expression speaking volumes.

“Miss. Are you okay?”

She nodded, regretting the motion as soon as she moved her head. Pain flared through her temples as murmuring voices echoed in her ears.

The man shook his head. “You do realize you’re trespassing, right?”

She groaned again, trying to find the right words. “Permit.” It was the best she could do as she tapped the left front pocket of her jeans.

The man simply scowled. “Any permit you might have had expired at midnight. There’s a standing order on that.” He offered her his hand. “Come on. We’ll have to take you back to the station until we can talk to the management company…see what they want to do.”

She pulled against his hold, finally gaining the strength to look around. Hadn’t he seen the ghost grab her arm, tumbling her down the stairs? “I can’t leave. The ghost…”

Her words slurred into a jumble of sounds as he lifted her up, catching her when she swayed against him. He cursed under his breath, muttering something about her being high as he walked them toward his car, the rotating lights making her stomach heave. She tried one last time to free herself, only to end up falling against the hood. Another voice sounded close by as the landscape blurred into gray. She glanced over at the house, focusing just enough to see a figure cross the upper windows before more hands grabbed her shoulders and shoved her in the back of the car. The vehicle jerked forward, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires finally pulling her under as the house disappeared behind her, the lone silhouette vanishing into the night.

Chapter Three

“Well I’ll be damned. Dylan Smith!”

Cal froze, his gaze falling to the man striding toward him, hand outstretched, mouth lifted into a wide grin. Cal couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten him and Dylan mixed up and had a feeling the guy must have been from Dylan’s old unit. Cal shook the guy’s hand, noting the firm grip and the telltale chain peeking out from the guy’s collar.

The man laughed, pulling him into his chest as he slapped him hard across the back. “I thought you’d set up shop back in San Francisco?”

Cal gave him a tentative smile. “Actually, Dylan has. He’s been part of the SFPD for about two years now, putting all that training to good use as a member of the SWAT detail.”

The guy frowned, giving him the once over before grinning as he tipped his head back, a gravelly laugh vibrating the air. “Bloody hell. Dylan said you two were twins, but…I guess I never thought I’d be one to fall for it. Always prided myself as being a
details
man. Noticing things others didn’t. And now that I’m closer, I can see a few minor differences. But damn, you two are damn near carbon copies of each other.” He extended his hand again. “Cal, right?”

Cal smiled, giving the man’s hand another healthy shake. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

The man shrugged. “Dylan never was one to run off the mouth much, other than about you, Avery and Blake, that is. He could spend hours telling stories about the four of you. Sounds like you’re all pretty damn close. The name’s Peters. Brandon Peters.”

The name rang a bell, and Cal nodded in response. “You served those final eighteen months with Dyl. Were one of the men that saved his sorry ass. Can’t thank you and your team enough for that, even if Dylan still doesn’t see what a blessing it was.”

Brandon sobered slightly. “Tough losing Colin like that. The guy was like a brother to all of us, more so to Dylan. He doing any better?”

Cal sighed. “Physically, he’s fine. Emotionally…guess time will tell. Though there’s a spark of hope. Avery and his new wife Temperance are visiting Tempie’s little sister, Annie, this week, and Dylan’s got a prank all set up. Who knows, maybe it’s just what he needs to bring him out of that funk.”

Brandon chuckled. “You Smith brothers and your damn pranks. I swear Dylan would have had his ass kicked on a regular basis over his pranks if any of the guys had been willing to take him on. The guy’s just lucky he’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous or not, I’m betting he might just have met his match in the Dunnigan sisters.”

Brandon grinned again, motioning Cal over to the station coffee maker. “So what brings you out to Salem? Dylan said you lived in Europe.”

Cal groaned inwardly, accepting the Styrofoam cup Brandon offered him. This is where the pleasantries were sure to end. Once folks realized he wasn’t like his twin—that he made his living like the other Smith brothers—they generally pulled back. And seeing as he wasn’t famous like Avery, he rarely got the benefit of the doubt.

He took a fortifying breath. “Edinburgh, actually, but I was visiting the family for a few weeks. And I’m here because I got a call early this morning regarding a Ms. Jordan Harper. Seems she’s a guest of yours and has been asking for me.”