After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (27 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Because of Lana, Harper was not a dainty fighter. She
was brass knuckles and knee-to-balls all the way, as poor Levi knew so well. She
swung a fist and nailed Gloria in the nose. No blood poured, but the girl’s head
did twist to the side. She threw another punch and another and another, until
the girl—clearly a novice, relying only on emotion—couldn’t recover from the
impact.

Gloria’s legs buckled and she hit the ground. Harper leaped on
top of her, threw a right, a left, another right, boom, boom, boom. The girl’s
brain had to be rattling against her skull. All the while, the building
continued to shake, and she wasn’t sure if Gloria was responsible—or her. Rage,
so much rage, burned in her chest.

She had to get herself under control.

She wasn’t like Topper, wasn’t controlled by her baser urges.
She could stop when she needed to stop. And she would.... Harper threw one last
punch and lifted her arms in a gesture of innocence.

See? She’d stopped.

Gloria remained sagged on the floor, her eyes closed, her lips
slack.

“Give me your shirt,” Harper said to Levi.

At first, she got no reaction from him. She glanced up.

He gave her a slow, proud grin. “Good job, princess. I mean,
uh, hoss. I’ll never call you princess again, I swear.” He tugged his shirt up
by the collar, revealing the most mouthwatering chest and stomach ever to be
created. Hard-won muscles, row after row of strength.

She rolled Gloria over and used the material to tie her arms
behind her back.

“I still can’t move,” he said.

“What did she do to you?”

“Have
no
idea.”

She straightened and walked to Lana, who had gone motionless,
her eyes glazed over. A blackout? Harper waved her hand in front of her friend’s
face. Again, no reaction. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Have to…send girl…away,” Peterson said.

Harper’s attention jerked to her. A pale, sweaty and shaky
Harrowitz was stretched out beside her, gently stroking her cheek.

“Her evil…have to…get rid.... Move on…only way.”

Move on. Of course. Someone would have to force Gloria to move
up…or down. Probably down.

“Well, that won’t be happening, because Daddy’s home.”

That voice! Dread washed through Harper as she spun toward the
sound of it. Her eyes widened, and a tremor of fear swept through her. Gloria
had told the truth. Topper had killed himself, and his spirit had remained on
earth. She knew—because he’d just misted through the front door.

“Don’t you dare go near her,” Levi growled.

“What will you do if I do?” Topper grinned his smug smile as he
surveyed the room, but his gaze quickly returned to Harper. “My sister has been
so much more useful in death than in life. First she watched you, reporting your
every move, and I must say, I was quite happy to hear you were with the cop. I
mean, how thrilling will it be to tear the two of you apart? Then, of course,
she disabled you.” His gaze landed on Gloria, who had yet to awaken. He
shrugged, unconcerned. “I told you we would be together again, little
Harper.”

Of course he remembered who and what he was in death, she
thought. As wicked as he was, he loved the life he’d lived, had no regrets.
There wasn’t anything he’d wanted to forget or apologize for.

“Harper,” Levi said.

Topper ignored him. His gaze remained on Harper as he reached
out to play with a lock of Lana’s hair. Lana gave no reaction. “This is going to
be fun, don’t you think, my darling?”

Fear bloomed in Harper’s chest, joining what remained of the
rage.
Must stop him.

She stepped forward, only to stop as a realization formed.
Topper could touch Lana. Could touch Lana as Gloria could touch Harper.

Lana was a spirit.

Lana had died, sometime between when she’d left their apartment
and when they’d reunited. No wonder something had been off inside their old
home. For the first time in weeks, Harper had been able to touch her, too.

Shock and grief joined the other emotions, but she brushed
everything aside. They would get in the way, hinder her, and even delight
Topper.

“You and me,” she said to him. “Here and now.”

“No!” Levi roared, jerking at legs that refused to obey him.
“Why don’t you try me? I’d love a chance to thank you for my current
condition.”

Again, Topper ignored him. “You think you can take me?”

“You don’t have a Taser and I’m not drugged,” Harper said. “I’m
not restrained, either. So yeah, I think I can take you. You always thought more
highly of yourself than you should have,” she added, mimicking what he’d once
told her. “A trait taught to you by your sister-mom?”

That wiped the amusement from his expression. “She was never my
mother! My mother was beautiful and wonderful, and I was her very special boy.
She loved me more than all the other boys, I don’t care what my sister
says.”

Harper didn’t waste another second. While he was distracted and
emotional, she launched at him. The action was unexpected, and she was able to
knock him back into the door. Air seemed to push from his lungs. Air…breath…as
warm and fragrant as before, in that cold, bright room of horror.

Logically she knew he couldn’t possibly be breathing, that her
mind was simply playing tricks on her. But the memory trapped her for a moment,
allowing Topper to grab her by the hair, swing her around and slam her into the
wood. Stars winked before her eyes. He fit his body against hers, no gaps
between them.

“Fight!” Levi called. “With everything you have, fight!”

“Fight. I like that idea,” Topper said against her ear.

With everything you have
.... She’d
never gone looking for this battle, but it had been dropped on her, anyway. She
would
fight. And this time, she would win.

Harper elbowed him in the stomach. He hunched over. She spun
around and kneed him in the chin. He flew backward, landing on his back.

She jumped on him, straddling his waist. “Not so cocky now, are
you?” Punch, punch, punch. Each blow filled her with new strength, empowering
her. How many times had she longed to do this? Countless. How many nights had
she lain on that cold slab of metal and dreamed of doing this? Countless
more.

He fought back, punching her and bucking to dislodge her, but
she kept at him. Finally he managed to work his legs between them and shove her
off. Before she could regain her footing, he crawled away—right in front of
Levi.

“Much obliged. You just made my job easy.” Levi bent over and
punched, punched, punched, doing to Topper what Harper had done to Gloria.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Harrowitz crawl to Gloria.
Saw Harrowitz place a hand just over Gloria’s heart. Saw a bright light spark
between them and leap to the floor, growing and tracing a line around Gloria’s
body. Gloria’s now-writhing body. Flecks of black sparked from her. Harrowitz
said something, but Harper couldn’t make out the words. A moment later, Gloria’s
body was sucked through the floorboards, vanishing.

Harrowitz sagged onto the floor, even the light
disappearing.

Harper rushed to his side. “Come on. You have to do that to
Topper. Please!”

His eyelids were slitted, his eyes rolled back, revealing only
the whites.

“Come on!” She tried to slap him across the face, but her hand
went right through him.

Still, he blinked as if he’d felt something, sharply drew in a
breath and frowned. “Do that again, and I’ll return fire.”

His voice…he’d never spoken before and now she knew why. He’d
either been choked and his voice box broken, or he’d been slashed across the
throat and hadn’t healed right.

He dragged himself up and crawled to Topper.

She followed.

“Stop,” he told Levi in that damaged voice. “You can move now,
Levi, so move away from Topper.”

“Can’t.” Punch, punch, punch. “Feels too good.”

Understand that.
“You have to stop,
Levi,” she said. She wanted this over. One way or another. “If you don’t, this
can’t end.”

Surprisingly, Levi obeyed
her
. He
stopped. Teeth bared, he looked up and caught her gaze. She knew how hard that
had been for him, and realized in that moment just how much she loved him. He’d
do anything she asked, she realized. He wanted her safe, he wanted her happy. A
woman couldn’t ask for more than that.

Lana suddenly appeared at her side and kicked Topper in the
teeth. One of them went flying like a piece of candy. “That for hurting my
friend.” Another kick, another lost tooth. “That for breaking my heart.”

Levi grabbed the man’s arms before he could retaliate, and
Harrowitz was finally able to place his hand over Topper’s heart. He glanced up
at Lana to make sure she was done, and when she nodded, he closed his eyes to
concentrate.

Harper grabbed her friend’s hand, watching as the same thing
happened to Topper that had happened to Gloria. A bright light sparked, forming
a ring around the body. Black flicked up. Topper writhed and kicked, screamed
and pleaded, and at one point, Harrowitz looked ready to topple over, but in the
end, Topper was sucked under the floorboards, disappearing for good.

Harrowitz passed out.

Lana released a cry of relief.

Harper let her go and threw herself into Levi’s waiting
arms.

“It’s over,” he said, hugging her tight. “Finally over.”

“I love you.” She couldn’t keep the words inside. If he
freaked, he freaked, but he would learn to—

“I love you, too.
So
much.”

Thank the Lord! “Are we going to disappear, too?” she asked,
pulling back only enough to peer up into his eyes. “We did what we stayed here
to do. Well, most of it.” They hadn’t protected Lana, but they had protected
others from Topper’s evil.

They both stiffened, waiting, expectant, gazing around the
room.

“I told you,” Peterson said, making her way to Harrowitz. She
was the one to stroke his cheek this time, surprising Harper with her
gentleness. Clearly, the two had feelings for each other. “Some people stick
around for years, even after they’ve done what they originally set out to do. Or
did I not tell you that? Whatever. The stronger the spirit is, the happier the
spirit is, and the happier the spirit is, the more likely it is to stick
around.”

And Harper was happy. Happier than she’d ever been. “Is
Harrowitz gonna be all right?”

“Yeah. He just burned through all of his energy. All he needs
is time.”

She was right. A short while later, he was working his way to
his feet. He swayed and paled, and had to hold himself up with a hand on the
wall, but he was back in control.

“Thank you,” she said. They couldn’t have done this without
him.

He nodded.

Peterson helped him lumber out of the apartment, turning to
look at Harper and Levi. “See you tomorrow?”

As Harper moaned, Levi slammed the door in the woman’s face…but
not quickly enough for Harper to miss the wink Peterson shot them over her
shoulder.

And okay, with the immediate danger of losing her life and her
love over with, and their audience gone, she had some business to take care
of.

“You!” she said to Lana, spinning to face her friend. “You’re
dead.”

Lana backed away guiltily. “Not my fault. I was poking around
the gallery, trying to find out how Topper had gotten you. Cliff caught me. We
fought. I was injured. He knocked me out.”

Her poor Lana! “Where’s your body?”

“I don’t know. A ditch probably. When I came to, I knew
immediately that I was dead and that he had done it, but not how.”

“Why was there blood in the house, then?”

“Cliff was covering his tracks, is my guess,” Levi said.
“Planting evidence that would lead the cops in the wrong direction, just the way
he gave a false lead when Harper disappeared after her showing.”

Lana nodded. “Your man has to be right. That’s what the bad
guys do in the movies.”

“Argh! I hate that you suffered like that.” Harper threw
herself into Lana’s arms next. They hugged and cried, and then Levi joined them,
hugging them both, as well.

“All this death,” Lana said. “But Cliff will get what’s coming
to him.”

“Sooner or later, people always do, don’t they?” Harper said.
“Look at Topper.”

“And now, we’re safe. We’re happy,” Levi said.

And they were one weird family, Harper thought, grinning. “So
what do we do now?”

Lana clapped with enthusiasm. “Now we find me a date, of
course. I need a happily ever after, too.”

“Speaking of dates,” Levi said. “I owe Bright a blind date for
his undead stalker.”

“Trolling for spirits, you two? Really?” Harper laughed.

“Maybe. I feel bad for everyone else, not having what we have.”
Levi leaned down to kiss her. “You are happy, right?”

“Very much so.”

“Aw, how disgustingly sweet,” Lana said, wiggling her brows.
“Here’s a thought. Maybe we could just share Levi.”

“No,” Harper and Levi shouted in unison.

“Okay, okay. Geez.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already got the perfect guy in mind for
you,” Levi added. “He’s in 409....”

* * * * *

If you enjoyed
HAUNTED
, you won’t want to miss two fabulous new
paranormal series from Gena Showalter, available now!

Turn the page for sneak peeks of
WICKED NIGHTS
(Harlequin HQN) and
ALICE IN ZOMBIELAND
(Harlequin TEEN)....

ONE

“How does that make you feel, Annabelle?” The male voice lingered over the word
feel,
adding a disgusting layer of sleaze.

Keeping the other patients in the “trust circle” in her periphery, Annabelle tilted her head to the side and met the gaze of Dr. Fitzherbert, otherwise known as Fitzpervert. In his early forties, the doctor had thinning salt-and-pepper hair, dark brown eyes and perfectly tanned, though slightly lined, skin. He was on the thin side, and at five-ten, only an inch taller than she was.

Overall, he was moderately attractive.
If
you ignored the blackness of his soul, of course.

The longer she stared at him, rebelliously silent, the more his lips curled with amusement. Oh, how that grated—not that she’d ever let him know it. She would never willingly do anything to please him, but she would also never cower in his presence. Yes, he was the worst kind of monster—power hungry, selfish and unacquainted with the truth—and yes, he could hurt her. And would.

He already had.

Last night he’d drugged her. Well, he’d drugged her every day of his two-month employment at the Moffat County Institution for the Criminally Insane. But last night he had sedated her with the express purpose of stripping her, touching her in ways he shouldn’t and taking pictures.

Such a pretty girl,
he’d said.
Out there in the real world, a stunner like you would make me work for something as simple as a dinner date. Here, you’re completely at my mercy. You’re mine to do with as I please…and I please plenty.

Humiliation still burned hot and deep, a fire in her blood, but she would not betray a moment of weakness. She knew better.

Over the past four years, the doctors and nurses in charge of her care had changed more times than her roommates, some of them shining stars of their profession, others simply going through the motions, doing what needed doing, while a select few were worse than the convicted criminals they were supposed to treat. The more she caved, the more those employees abused her. So, she always remained on the defensive.

One thing she’d learned during her incarceration was that she could rely only on herself. Her complaints of abominable treatment went unheeded, because most higher-ups believed she deserved what she got—if they believed her at all.

“Annabelle,” Fitzpervert chided. “Silence isn’t to be tolerated.”

Well, then. “I feel like I’m one hundred percent cured. You should probably let me go.”

At least the amusement drained. He frowned with exasperation. “You know better than to answer my questions so flippantly. That doesn’t help you deal with your emotions or problems. That doesn’t help anyone here deal with
their
emotions or problems.”

“Ah, so I’m a lot like you, then.” As if he cared about helping anyone but himself.

Several patients snickered. A couple merely drooled, foamy bubbles falling from babbling lips and catching on the shoulders of their gowns.

Fitzpervert’s frown morphed into a scowl, the pretense of being here to help vanishing. “That smart mouth will get you into trouble.”

Not a threat. A vow.
Doesn’t matter,
she told herself. She lived in constant fear of creaking doors, shadows and footsteps. Of drugs and people and…things. Of herself. What was one more concern? Although…at this rate, her emotions would be the thing to finally bury her.

“I’d love to tell you how I feel, Dr. Fitzherbert,” the man beside her said.

Fitzpervert ran his tongue over his teeth before switching his attention to the serial arsonist who’d torched an entire apartment building, along with the men, women and children living inside of it.

As the group discussed feelings and urges and ways to control them both, Annabelle distracted herself with a study of her surroundings. The room was as dreary as her circumstances. There were ugly yellow water stains on the paneled ceiling, the walls were a peeling gray and the floor carpeted with frayed brown shag. The uncomfortable metal chairs the occupants sat upon were the only furniture. Of course, Fitzpervert luxuriated on a special cushion.

Meanwhile, Annabelle had her hands cuffed behind her back. Considering the amount of sedatives pumping through her system, being cuffed was overkill. But hey, four weeks ago she’d brutally fought a group of her fellow patients, and two weeks ago one of her nurses, so of course she was too menacing to leave unrestrained, no matter that she’d sought only to defend herself.

For the past thirteen days, she’d been kept in the hole, a dark, padded room where deprivation of the senses slowly drove her (genuinely) insane. She had been starved for contact, and had thought any interaction would do—until Fitzpervert drugged and photographed her.

This morning, he arranged her release from solitary confinement, followed by this outing. She wasn’t stupid; she knew he hoped to bribe her into accepting his mistreatment.

If Mom and Dad could see me now
… She bit back a sudden, choking sob. The young, sweet girl they’d loved was dead, the ghost somehow alive inside her, haunting her. At the worst times, she would remember things she had no business remembering.

“Taste this, honey. It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever eaten!”

A terrible cook, her mother. Saki had enjoyed tweaking recipes to “improve” them.

“Did you see that? Another touchdown for the Sooners!”

A diehard football fan, her dad. He had attended OU in Oklahoma for three semesters, and had never cut those ties.

She could not allow herself to think about them, about her mother and father and how wonderful they’d been…and…oh, she couldn’t stop it from happening.... Her mother’s image formed, taking center stage in her mind. She saw a fall of hair so black the strands appeared blue, much like Annabelle’s own. Eyes uptilted and golden, much like Annabelle’s
used
to be. Skin a rich, creamy mix of honey and cinnamon and without a single flaw. Saki Miller—once Saki Tanaka—had been born in Japan but raised in Georgetown, Colorado.

Saki’s traditional parents had freaked when she and the white-as-can-be Rick Miller had fallen hopelessly in love and married. He’d come home from college on holiday, met her and moved back to be with her.

Both Annabelle and her brother were a combination of their parents’ heritages. They shared their mother’s hair and skin, the shape of her face, yet had their father’s height and slender build.

Although Annabelle’s eyes no longer belonged to either Saki or Rick.

After that horrible morning in her garage, after her arrest for their murders, after her conviction, her lifelong sentencing to this institution for the criminally insane, she’d finally found the courage to look at herself in a mirror. What she’d seen had startled her. Eyes the color of winter ice, deep in the heart of an Arctic snowstorm, eerie and crystalline, barely blue with no hint of humanity. Worse, she could see things with these eyes, things no one should ever have to see.

And, oh, no, no, no. As the trust circle yammered on, two creatures walked through the far wall, pausing to orient themselves. Heart rate spiraling, Annabelle looked at her fellow patients, expecting to see expressions of terror. No one else seemed to notice the visitors.

How could they not? One creature had the body of a horse and the torso of a man. Rather than skin, he was covered by glimmering silver…metal? His hooves were rust-colored and possibly some kind of metal, as well, sharpened into deadly points.

His companion was shorter, with stooped shoulders weighed down by sharp, protruding horns, and legs twisted in the wrong direction. He wore a loincloth and nothing else, his chest furred, muscled and scarred.

The scent of rotten eggs filled the room, as familiar as it was horrifying. The first flood of panic and anger burned through her, a toxic mix she could not allow to control her. It would wreck her concentration and slow her reflexes—her only weapons.

She needed weapons.

The creatures came in all shapes and sizes, all colors, both sexes—and maybe something in between—but they had one thing in common: they always came for her.

Every doctor who’d ever treated her had tried to convince her that the beings were merely figments of her imagination. Complex hallucinations, they said. Despite the wounds the creatures always left behind—wounds the doctors claimed she managed to inflict upon herself—she sometimes believed them. That didn’t stop her from fighting, though. Nothing could.

Glowing red gazes at last settled on her. Both males smiled, their sharp, dripping fangs revealed.

“Mine,” Horsey said.

“No. Mine!” Horns snapped.

“Only one way to settle this.” Horsey licked his lips in anticipation. “The fun way.”

“Fun,” Horns agreed.

Fun,
the code word for “beat the crap out of Annabelle.” At least they wouldn’t try to rape her.

Don’t you see, Miss Miller?
one of the doctors had once told her.
The fact that these creatures will not rape you proves they are nothing more than hallucinations. Your mind stops them from doing something you can’t handle.

As if she could handle any of the rest.
How do you explain the injuries I receive while bound?

We found the tools you hid in your room. Shanks, a hammer we’re still trying to figure out how you got, glass shards. Shall I go on?

Yeah, but those had been for her protection, not her mutilation.

“Who goes first?” Horsey asked, drawing her out of the depressing memory.

“Me.”

“No, me.”

They continued to argue, but the reprieve wouldn’t last long. It never did. Adrenaline surged through her, making her limbs shake.
Don’t worry. You’ve got this.

Though no other patients were aware of what was going on, they were all sensitive to her shift in mood. Grunts and groans erupted around her. Both men and women, young and old, writhed in their seats, wanting to run away.

The guards posted at the only exit stiffened, going on alert but unsure who was to blame.

Fitzpervert knew, pegging Annabelle with his patented king-of-the-world frown. “You look troubled, Annabelle. Why don’t you tell us what’s bothering you, hmm? Are you regretting your earlier outburst?”

“Screw you, Fitzpervert.” Her gaze returned to her targets. They were the bigger threat. “Your turn will come.”

He sucked in a breath. “You are not allowed to speak to me that way.”

“You’re right. Sorry. I meant, screw you,
Dr.
Fitzpervert.” Unarmed did not mean helpless, she told herself, and neither did bound; today, she would prove it to the creatures
and
Fitzpervert.

“Feisty,” Horsey said with a gleeful nod.

“So amusing to break.” Horns cackled.

“As long as I’m the one to break her!”

And so began another round of arguing.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the good doctor motion one of the guards forward, and she knew the guy would take her jaw in an inexorable grip and shove her cheek against his stomach to hold her in place. A degrading and suggestive position that humiliated even as it cowed, preventing her from biting so that Fitzpervert could inject her with another sedative.

Have to act now. Can’t wait
. Not allowing herself to stop and think, she jumped up, pulling her knees to her chest, sliding her bound arms underneath her butt and over her feet. Gymnastics classes hadn’t failed her. Hands now in front of her, she twisted, grabbed and folded the chair, and positioned the metal like a shield.

Perfect timing. The guard reached her.

She swung to the left, slamming her shield into his stomach. Air gushed from his mouth as he hunched over. Another swing and she nailed the side of his head, sending him to the floor in an unconscious heap.

A few patients shouted with distress, and a few others cheered her on. The droolers continued leaking. Fitzpervert rushed to the door to force the remaining guard to act as his buffer, as well as summon more guards with the single press of a button. An alarm screeched to life, tossing the already disconcerted patients into more of a frenzy.

No longer content to bicker on the sidelines, the creatures stalked toward her, slow and steady, taunting her.

“Oh, the things I’ll do to you, little girl.”

“Oh, how you’ll scream!”

Closer…closer…almost within striking distance…totally within striking distance… She swung. Missed. The pair laughed, separated and in unison reached for her.

She used the chair to bat one set of hands away, but couldn’t track both of her adversaries at the same time and the other managed to scratch her shoulder. She winced but otherwise ignored the pain, spinning around to—hit air, only air.

Laughter growing in volume, the creatures ran circles around her, constantly swinging at her.

I can handle this.
When Horsey was in front of her, she rammed the top of the chair under his chin, knocking his teeth together and his brain, if he had one, into the back of his skull. At the same time, she kicked out a leg, punting Horns, who was behind her, in the stomach. Both creatures stumbled away from her, their grins finally vanishing.

“That all you got, girls?” she goaded. Two more minutes, that’s all she had, and then the summoned guards would rush inside and tackle her, pinning her down, Fitzpervert and his needle taking charge. She wanted these creatures finished.

“Let’s find out,” Horsey hissed. He opened his mouth and roared, his awful breath somehow creating a strong, unstoppable wind that pushed the arsonist at Annabelle.

To everyone else, it probably seemed like the guy was leaping at her of his own volition, intending to restrain her. Another swing, and the chair sent him flying through Horsey’s body and to his butt, as if the creature were nothing more substantial than mist. To Fire Boy, he wasn’t. The creatures were only ever tangible to her and whatever she held.

Sometime during the exchange, Horns had moved beyond her periphery. Now he managed to sneak up behind her and rake his claws against her already bleeding shoulder. As she turned, he turned with her, once again raking her with those claws.