Possessed, page 4
Aubrey’s sparkled dimmed. “Sorry, sis,” she said. She didn’t move to sit beside her sister, whose face was back in her hands, but Raef watched her lift a semitransparent hand toward her, like she wanted to touch her. He felt her sadness then, and realized he hated it and had a ridiculous urge to do something, anything, to erase her sadness and bring back her joy—her joy he could feel.
And that was just fucking not normal.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said gruffly. Both women, alive and dead, turned their pretty faces to him. “I need to know what the hell is going on here.” He pointed at the ghost. “Were you murdered or not?” Raef watched the twins exchange a look.
Lauren spoke first. “Tell him. He’ll see, and it’ll make the explanation easier.”
“It’ll hurt,” Aubrey said.
“I know. Just do it fast and get it over with. I’ll see you again soon,” Lauren said.
Aubrey nodded and then faced him. She met his gaze for a long time—long enough for Raef to be struck by her beauty. Yeah, she looked a whole lot like her twin, that figured. But she was softer, curvier, shorter—and her hair was longer. Just then it was lifting around her in response to a nonexistent wind.
“I know you can help us. I believe in you, Kent.”
He knew she was telling the truth. He could feel her belief. It was warm and strong and very, very disconcerting—which left him utterly unprepared for her next words, and the flood of agony that followed them.
“My body was murdered by a man who has trapped my soul and the souls of a lot of other people. He’s feeding off our pain. His name is—” Aubrey’s words were sliced off as her ghost was ripped in half and Lauren shrieked with her twin in agony—an agony Raef felt all too well, an agony so great that it had his vision narrowing and his heart racing. The torn pieces of Aubrey’s ghost were burned away like morning mist before sunlight and she was gone. Again.
Raef realized he had staggered to the couch and was clutching the back of it to keep himself upright. He raised a shaking hand and wiped sweat from his brow. The sound of a body dropping to the floor had him struggling to refocus in time to see that Lauren had slumped, unconscious, from the couch.
“Shit!” Raef hurried to her, carefully lifting her back on the couch, laying her down and checking for a pulse. “Strong and steady,” he muttered. “Good—good. Hey, come on. Wake up. You’re fine. Everything’s fine,” he said, more for himself than for her.
Lauren’s eyelids fluttered and then opened. He started to breathe a long, relieved sigh, but then he realized how vacant those blue-gray eyes looked. Not only was the light not on, but nofuckingbody was home.
And that scared the shit out of him, so much so that he automatically fell back into what he knew best about dealing with while scared. His voice deepened, hardened, and MSgt Raef barked at her like the Special Forces NCOIC he’d once been. “Lauren! Get your ass back here on the fucking double! You haven’t been given permission to go any damn where!”
Lauren blinked, shook her head as if she’d just come in from the rain, and then her eyes animated and she focused on his face. “Raef.”
Even though the name wasn’t a question, he nodded. “You’re back. Good.”
“Feel bad, though,” she said weakly.
He grunted and nodded. “Bet you do. Your soul’s attached to Aubrey’s, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Always.” The two words were whispers.
“All right. Well, that explains a lot about this cluster fuck.” He stood.
“Are you leaving?”
“Sadly, no. You’re in my house, remember?”
Lauren looked around, as if she hadn’t remembered until then. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You don’t bring clients here.”
“I don’t brew strong tea with honey for them, either. Which is what I’m going to do for you. Sit. Don’t move. Don’t faint. And don’t fucking disappear on me again.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with what he already understood was uncharacteristic meekness.
He stopped halfway to the kitchen. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t call me sir. I was an NCO. I used to work for a living, unlike a fucking officer.”
He didn’t need to be psychic to feel Lauren’s confusion all the way from the living room. “Civilians…” he grumbled as he clattered through his orderly cupboards and flipped on the electric kettle, tossing a bag of English breakfast tea, a dollop of local honey, a squeeze of fresh lemon and a healthy slosh of single-malt Scotch into each of the large mugs.
When he brought the brewed and spiked tea to the living room he was relieved to see that Lauren was sitting up and studying the art on his fireplace mantel. She turned and raised a brow at him. “Erté?”
“Yep,” he said, handing her the mug of tea. She took the couch and he sat in a leather chair across from it.
“Your wife likes Erté?”
“Not married. Anymore. And no, she did not. I like Erté.”
“Erté was gay.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
She raised a brow at him. “You were military, weren’t you?”
“Air force—OSI, that’s Office of Special Investigations to civilians. Ten years—been out for almost five now,” he said, sipped his tea and then added, “FYI—most military men don’t give a shit whether the guy beside him is gay. They care more that the guy will stay beside him and cover his back. You shouldn’t stereotype, Miss Wilcox, since you don’t appreciate it when people assume you’re just some stuck-up rich bitch who doesn’t work for a living.”
Her other brow raised at the word bitch, but she just sipped her tea, nodded and said, “Scotch and lemon and honey is my sister’s favorite kind of tea.”
“Was,” Raef corrected her. “She’s dead. Let’s start right now with dealing with that, even though you can still see her and talk to her. That might help you start separating yourself from what’s happening to her—at least long enough for me to try to figure out how to catch the guy who’s doing it to her.”
“She’s not going to be able to help you do that.”
“Because he’s keeping her from helping me,” Raef said.
“He’s keeping her from helping anyone—even me. Any time Aubrey tries to talk about her murder, even tries to hint about it, it’s like he has some kind of electric line into her soul.” Lauren shook her head and Raef could see she was fighting back tears. “How the hell can he keep causing her such pain even after her body is dead?”
Raef didn’t have one damn clue about how to answer that question, so he countered with one of his own. “It’s not just Aubrey who feels pain caused by him. It’s you, too.”
“Yes, it’s me, too. And that’s not all. She’s getting weaker. He’s draining her, and the weaker she gets—the more she’s drained—the weaker I get. Somehow he can use her, and apparently several other people, even though they are all dead.” Lauren stared into his eyes. “How? How is he doing it?”
“I’m going to be straight with you, Lauren. I’ve never heard of anything like this. Even when I was in the air force and Tracked terrorists. I experienced some really bad stuff, and some really bizarre stuff, but nothing that was leeching a ghost’s soul and the ghost’s living twin. Sorry, but I just don’t have the answers for you.”
“So, basically, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Basically, you’re correct. With your case I do not.”
“Well, then, what am I going to do? Just fade away with Aubrey where we’ll exist forever somewhere between agony and darkness?” This time a tear escaped Lauren’s eye and rolled down her smooth cheek.
“Not if I can help it,” Raef heard himself say.
Lauren threw up her hands and repeated, “How?”
“By doing something I hate like hell. I’m going to call in the cavalry and ask for help, even though it’s a damn annoying cavalry and she’s going to be obnoxiously pleased that she’s going to have to bail me out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“She’s way too small to be the cavalry,” Lauren whispered from beside Raef.
They were sitting at his huge old desk peering into the big-screen Mac as the redhead answered the video call. She raised a scarlet brow and turned clear green eyes on Lauren, saying, “I don’t know what you mean by cavalry, but she’s not deaf.”
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Lauren began. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, yeah, stand down, tough girl,” Raef interrupted. “Milana Buineviciute, this is Lauren Wilcox. She’s a client of mine and I called you the cavalry, she didn’t.” Raef moved his gaze from the quick-tempered little redhead to Lauren. “Lana is the head medium for our Oklahoma City branch of After Moonrise. She’s a pain in the ass, and even though she claims to be Lithuanian I suspect her of being a Russian spy, but she knows more shit about ghosts than anyone I’ve ever met. Not that that’s a compliment.”
“Atsiknisk,” Lana told Raef blandly. “Which means ‘fuck off’—in Lithuanian, not Russian. Try moving into the twenty-first century, Raef. The Cold War has been over for longer than I’ve been alive.” She looked at Lauren. “Good to meet you, Lauren.” Lana glanced back at Raef. “Hey, sudzius, she’s not a ghost.”
“I’ve worked with you long enough to know you’re calling me a shithead, and I know Lauren isn’t a ghost, Nazi. It’s her twin sister who is dead.”
“Nazis were German, not Russian or Lithuanian,” Lana told Raef smoothly before turning her attention back to Lauren. “A twin’s death is always difficult. Her ghost, she is with you?”
Lauren nodded. “Yes, quite often, actually.”
“What you are doing with this girl?” Lana snapped the question to Raef, her accent suddenly becoming more pronounced with her annoyance. “She should be working with a medium. If Vivian Peterson isn’t the right choice there in Tulsa, bring her here to me.”
“Her sister was murdered—that’s why she’s here with me, not because I’m into overtime or trying to poach someone’s clients. You should know that,” Raef said, not caring that he sounded as pissed as he felt.
Lana’s expression softened and she brushed back a strand of bright red hair from her forehead. “Sorry, Raef. You are right. I’ve been going through my own sudas lately.”
“Which makes you the shithead?” he said with a quick smile.
“Taip. Definitely. And now that we’ve established that, I am ready to listen.” Lana picked up a legal pad and a pen. “Tell me what has happened.”
Raef quickly recapped Aubrey’s death and the events that had followed, reluctantly admitting everything, even the fact that he could feel her softer emotions, and ending with her latest manifestation in his living room. While he talked, Lana took notes, asked just a few pointed questions and looked grimmer and grimmer. When he was done she sighed and ran her hand through her fiery hair again.
“Do you know what he is? This murderer who steals souls?” Lauren asked into the silence.
“I do, but only through rumor and what amounts to fairy tales used to frighten children.”
Lauren looked confused and Lana smiled. “I should clarify and say fairy tales used to frighten psychic children.”
Raef felt a sliver of shock and sat up straighter. “The murderer is a psychic.”
“Taip,” Lana agreed. “But more specifically, the murderer is a psychic whose Gift has to be much like yours.”
“Mine?” Raef shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you felt her emotions, and they were all softer, positive emotions. That’s not the norm for you, Raef.”
“To say the least,” he snapped.
“And this ghost, she seems to be filled with positive emotions?” Lana said.
Lauren nodded. “Aubrey was full of joy and positive energy in life—she still is in death.”
“When Aubrey tries to talk about her murder, when she gets anywhere close to darker, more negative emotions, like the fear and pain and even anger or hatred that remembering what happened to her evokes, that’s when she dissipates, correct?” Lana asked.
“Yeah, it’s like he has a hook into her that he can reel back whenever he wants,” Raef said.
“Not whenever.” Lana continued, “Lauren, if Aubrey manifests and says nothing about her murder, if she simply visits you, does the killer pull her back to him?”
“No, but we always end up trying to talk about her murder. She’s being drained. Even when we don’t say anything about her death at all. She’s still being drained,” Lauren said.
“Because he’s feeding off her emotions—the negative ones—fear, pain, panic, hatred. He can’t tap into the softer emotions. My guess is he can’t even Trace her spirit when she’s feeling them.” Lana met Raef’s gaze. “He’s a psychic like you gone bad.”
“Shit. I knew this was a cluster fuck of massive proportions,” Raef said.
“Why? If he’s like you, then it should be easier for you to find him,” Lauren said. “Can’t you use your—” she paused and made a vague gesture with her hand “—your Gift or whatever and Track him down?”
Raef jerked his chin at Lana. “Ask the cavalry. She’s the ghost expert.”
Lana’s green eyes sparkled and her smile reminded Raef of a ginger cat who had just lapped a bowl of cream. “Oh, Raef can find him, but he cannot use his Gift like he usually does. The murderer has that way blocked. You already told me what happens whenever your sister tries to speak of her death.”
“He knows it. He stops her,” Lana said. “And he hurts her more.”
“Which proves Aubrey does know who killed her and could lead us to him—if he let her,” Raef said. “Damn! It’s frustrating as hell!”
“Aubrey can still lead you to her killer, she just has to do so through positive emotions. Use them to Track him.”
“Positive emotions?” Raef snorted. “How the hell do I learn about Tracking with those? Joy isn’t gonna lead me to a murder site and a serial killer.”
“You don’t have to learn about positive emotions, sudzius. I have told you before, if you let go of your attachment to negative emotions, your soul will naturally reset itself and begin to accept and understand their opposites.”
“And I’ve told you before—I’m not like the rest of your touchy-feely gang,” Raef said.
“Great, you mean he has to get happy to find my sister’s killer?” Lauren said.
“What the fuck is this, a motivational speech? I don’t have any attachments to negative emotions. Negative emotions are my damn job. I don’t need to get happy. I just need to find a murderer,” Raef told the two women.
Both women smiled knowingly back at him.
He considered pouring more Scotch into his tea. Instead, he faced Lana. “So, that’s the bottom line? I have to move through positive emotions to find this killer?”
“That’s the bottom line,” Lana agreed. “Like you, the guy is a fish out of water when he’s not attached to hate and fear and pain. Let Aubrey show you how to flank him through joy and love and happiness.”
“Flank him, huh? I knew you were a Russian spy,” Raef muttered.
Lana grinned. “Here’s the good news. All human soul are designed to accept love and happiness and joy, or at least they are if they can let go of their attachments to hate and fear and pain. And you’re human, even though you are a man. Good luck. You’ll need it.” Lana waved a goodbye to Lauren and then disconnected the Skype call.
Raef and Lauren sat in silence, watching the screen saver come on—a series of pictures of a North Side beach house in Grand Cayman where he vacationed every year. At that moment Raef wished desperately he had his ass in the sand and a cold beer in his hand.
“Do you think that’s true?”
Lauren’s question seemed loud and out of place, but weirdly enough Raef thought he knew exactly what she was asking.
“You mean the part about all human souls being designed to accept love and happiness and joy?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” she said.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
“I don’t think I do, either, but I can promise you Aubrey would think it’s true—even now. Even dead.”
He looked at her and saw how tired she was and how dark and sunken her blue eyes were. “I guess it’s a good thing Aubrey’s leading this hunt, then.”
“She won’t be doing anything for a while. When he jerks her back like that, so hard and so painful, it takes a lot out of her and she doesn’t manifest for hours, sometimes a whole day.”
“It takes a lot out of you, too,” Raef said.
Lauren shrugged. “I’m still alive.”
“You need to rest. Let me take you home, or to your mom’s. Whichever you’d rather,” he said, disconcerted by how hollow the thought of Lauren being not alive made him feel.
“Thanks. You’re right. I’m exhausted. You can take me to my home. Not my mother’s. Never my mother’s, no matter how out of it I am.”
“You’re not out of it. Actually, I think you’re doing pretty damn well for someone who’s being soul sucked by a serial killer.”
Lauren smiled as they walked back to the car. “That shouldn’t make me feel better, but it kinda does.”
“Hey, that’s me. Mr. Warm and Fuzzy.”
Lauren laughed then, and Raef was taken aback by how much she suddenly reminded him of Aubrey—so taken aback that he didn’t have much to say as he drove the short way to Lauren’s house, which was in the Brookside area of Midtown Tulsa, just a few miles away.
When he pulled up in front of the neat little bungalow, Lauren said, “Thanks, Raef. I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Let me do some digging about this soul-sucking crap and then you and I will take another whack at working with Aubrey.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
Raef went around and opened her car door for her, and when she hesitated, obviously gathering her energy to get out of the car, Raef took her arm and guided her to her feet.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be fine from here.”
“I’m going to make sure you stay that way,” he said.
