Double Booked (6 page)

I felt Miguel brush a hand across my forehead. “Embrace who you are, querida. Embrace the gift you’ve been given, and I promise you, the pain will never take hold of you again.”

I shook my head, fisting my hands and beating against his chest as tears streaked down my face. I let out another scream and arched my back as pain engulfed me.

“Please, Analise, you must stop fighting. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please.”

“No!” The word tore from my lips, sounding anguished and terrified.

I felt Miguel take my face in his hands, and for the second time that day he molded his lips to mine. The sweet contact had an immediate effect on my strained muscles and stiff body. I felt myself melt into his embrace and drank in his affections, thirsting for his mouth like I would a cool glass of water. By giving myself to Miguel, my ability to fight against the power of so many spirits at one single time evaporated. I flitted away from my body and the sweet nectar of Miguel’s soft kisses.

At first, all I could see were out of focus spirits, their indistinguishable words creating a low droning noise in the background. I kept still and narrowed my sight as one, then two, then four spirits slowly came into focus. The noise abruptly stopped as I turned in a small circle to see that I was surrounded by at least twenty spirits of varying races, genders and ages.

“You can see me!" A little boy clapped excitedly as my eyes rested on him. His clothing looked outdated, though I couldn’t place the year. I took in his dirty face, honey colored hair, and trusting blue eyes.

“I...I can see you.”

I let a small laugh of relief escape my lips and was surprised at the round of chuckling that came from the other spirits present. I turned in a circle again, wishing to make eye contact with every single spirit in attendance. The looks of hope that met my eyes made me feel important and needed once again. It was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a very long time.

I considered how much the fallout of my failed engagement with Ian had affected the choices I’d made and the person I’d become. Lost and lonely all because of...of what? The fear of rejection? The fear of failure? Avoiding everything that promised to be emotionally engaging? Coming out of this numbing fog made me realize how much I longed to be part of something worthwhile again. Something greater than myself.

I let out a slow breath and decided I was done hiding. I wouldn’t allow one more moment of my life to be affected by Ian’s cruel rejection. My gaze returned to the little boy.

“What is your name, sweetheart?”

He gave me a smile so sweet it broke my heart a little.

“Benjamin, miss.”

“Well, Benjamin, what can I do for you?”

Chapter Five

I’m not sure how long I stayed in that strange place of limbo where all of those spirits patiently waited their turn to express their needs and ask their questions, but I noted a common theme with many of their requests.

They simply wanted their remains found and their descendants aware of what happened to them. Many bodies were never recovered after the hurricane of 1900. Though I explained to them that those who had survived the hurricane had now passed on after all this time, it still remained important to them that they be found and remembered before they could join their families on the other side.

Such a simple request, really, and I promised every one of them that I would do my part to make it so. I watched as each spirit gratefully thanked me and then disappeared through that substance between waking and sleep, life and death, creating a kaleidoscope of vibrant golds in their passing.

The last spirit in attendance remained slightly fuzzy around the edges. I wondered if he was a bit out of range from his place of haunting.

After a few more minutes he came into focus, and I found myself standing in front of a most impressive and commanding individual. He wore clothing from the colonial era, mid to late eighteenth century styles, but it looked more like an officer’s uniform or perhaps that of a general, considering the many embellishments added to the coat. His white wig was tied back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.

When he spoke, his voice carried pleasant undertones and hinted at a familiar accent. Another foreigner. His voice sounded a bit hollow in the vast white space we floated in.

“You are the medium chosen to help my son carry out his mission?”

Huh?

Mission? What mission?

I waited a beat, still taking in his appearance and trying to place him, historically speaking. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He looked surprised. “You are the medium, yes?”

“I am
some
kind of medium, yes, but I’m not here to help your son fulfill a mission. If your son is the one with unfinished business why are
you
here?”

He grabbed the lapels of his suit coat, clearly vexed by my ignorance. “This makes no sense. I specifically sent signs to the coven, directing my son to you and your particular abilities. If you are here, then he should have made contact already.”

Coven?

Craptastic!

This had simply not been my week. First Miguel and his magic that clearly had a mind of its own, and now a dead warlock with unfinished business.

I hated running into witches and their dead loved ones. Their problems were usually much more complicated than that of any normal human being. While I was determined to make a new start and shake off the confining limitations my spiraling depression had placed upon me, I had no desire to get mixed up with witches.

Too much drama.

This encounter needed to be short and sweet, but the spirit standing before me had definitely piqued my interest.

I gave him a quizzical stare. “Just so we’re on the same page here, your son is a dead warlock who is supposed to contact me for some kind of mission?”

The man’s eyes grew bright with humor.

“No, my son is not dead. Miguel has been alive for centuries, waiting to fulfill a task most necessary for our coven.”

Shock pinged through me, landing a direct blow to my heart, which I feared had opened for Miguel of its own accord, without my permission, of course.

“Whoa, wait. Are we talking about Miguel Galvez? The guy I’m sharing a room with right now?”

The older man clapped his hands together. “Perfecto. Sí. You are together then. I am happy to hear that things are progressing between you two at such a rapid pace.”

I did
not
like the sound of that.

“Progressing? Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and to be perfectly frank, I can’t afford to get involved with anything related to witches.”

The man looked at me, puzzling over something. “Perhaps you two have not yet had a chance to sit down and discuss why you are really here.” He waved his hand in the air before I could ask him more questions. “No matter. My name is Bernardo de Galvez, and I am a patriot of the Revolutionary War. I fought alongside many noble men of valor, representing the great country of Spain in the defense of the colonies against the British. Not an easy undertaking, all things considered, but we won eventually.”

This man had my attention.

“You’re Bernardo de Galvez?
The
Bernardo de Galvez? You were a soldier in George Washington’s Army?”

His eyes gleamed. “That would have been an honor, but no. I helped the rebels before Spain became involved in the war against the British, and then continued aiding the rebels by overtaking important locations and forts such as Pensacola. My uncle entrusted me with the governorship of Louisiana, a position that proved beneficial for Spain and the rebel colonies.”

That’s right. I hadn’t been too clear on the details. Miguel hadn’t said much about his ancestor...er...his father.

His father!

I was speaking to Miguel’s father, which had to be some kind of mistake. I’d heard of powerful warlocks, but immortality? Even a spirit medium had to draw the line between things factual and fictitious.

“Okay, now that I know who you are, why are you still hanging around haunting the area? Wouldn’t you like to cross over and be with your loved ones?”

He looked amused. “Haunting? Who said anything about haunting? I simply need you to get an important message to Miguel, one that no other spirit medium has been capable of receiving.”

“Other mediums have tried?”

“Sí, sí. Miguel has employed several, though he and I were both aware each medium was a long shot. The curse placed upon me is far too strong for a regular spirit medium to penetrate, and my wife passed away too soon to be of any assistance. In truth, we’ve been waiting for you, and now that we have you working with us, we can finally complete the mission that started over two hundred years ago, and I will be at peace with my wife and daughter.”

I held my hand up. “You can hold it right there. I no longer pass along messages for witches. I’m not really a fan of them, you see.”

The man puffed out his chest like a proud peacock and stood at attention. “Young lady, you do not seem to understand the gravity of our situation.”

I sighed, curious despite my reservations on the subject matter.

“Fine. Tell me what you need, but please note that I may not be in a position to help you.”

“Very good of you young lady. The problem is this: I need you to guide my son to an important letter I intercepted during the war.”

“Letter?”

“Sí. You see, during the year in which Spain joined the war against Great Britain, King George III and Lord George Germain sent a secret missive to General John Campbell at Pensacola. This letter contained orders to organize an attack against New Orleans, but I intercepted it before it made its way to Campbell.”

“Very sneaky of you. How on earth did you manage that?”

He shrugged impatiently. “Those details are unimportant, and most likely you can Google the information if you really want to.”

Google? Did the spirit of Bernardo de Galvez really just recommend I go Google something as if he’d been online and plugged in for years?

“Okaaaay.”

“However, what you will not discover amongst your history books and online research is that this secret missive also included a code, leading to a magical weapon capable of controlling the elements. A talisman of sorts that my coven had been attempting to recover for years, but there had been virtually no sign nor hint of it since it was stolen from us in the late seventeenth century.”

I released an unhappy sigh. “Why do you people even have things like that?”

He gave me a flummoxed look. “It was a part of our coven for centuries. My people used it to control the weather while they planted and harvested crops.”

I held up a placating hand. “I get that you needed it for practical purposes, but it makes no sense to create a talisman capable of mastering the elements when it will most likely be stolen and used to hurt people. Supernatural powers like that are always coveted by tyrants and narcissistic fools who inevitably wind up with the damned trinkets in the long run.”

He smoothed the lapels of his coat. “Well, you’re correct in that department. It was unthinkable that King George had discovered this talisman and planned on using it against us.”

“I’m sure he had help, though I don’t suppose you know whom his associates were at the time.”

“There were a few warring covens, but we don’t need to get into those details either. At any rate, once decoded, the message led me to believe that the talisman had been brought to the Americas, New Orleans to be precise, during the early colonization period.”

“Then I take it you located the talisman?”

“I did indeed. Used it to my advantage and helped Washington win the war.”

My mind whirled with questions. If what this Spanish General said was true, the number of inaccuracies in our history books was mind boggling.

“How...? Never mind. I don’t have time to find out how a talisman that controls the elements figured into winning the war against the British. What I
do
need to know is what this letter has to do with me. If you already found the talisman, what do you need the letter for?”

“After the war ended, my coven and I agreed that the talisman was much too dangerous to return to Spain, where it could be located and stolen once again. The last thing our enemies expected me to do was hide it in the Americas. Once hidden, I created a code, a mapping system of sorts, one that would lead to the talisman. Once enough time had passed, it could safely be retrieved. It is extremely intricate, requiring certain spelled artifacts from the war to lead you to the talisman.”

“Are you saying you created some kind of coded map, and the clues for finding these spelled artifacts and eventually the talisman are located within this letter?”

“
Spelled
into the letter would be a more accurate statement.”

I let out a frustrated grunt. “Why not simply tell me where you hid the talisman?”

“It is in constant motion, never remaining in one place longer than a few days at a time. A safeguard I invoked to avoid being forced to give up its location, even under torture. That’s why you need the spelled artifacts. They can help guide you to the talisman’s exact location.”

I considered the ramifications of actually uncovering something powerful enough to change the outcome of a war, a war that by all accounts, should have been won by the British.

“Why not leave this thing alone and be done with it? I think allowing it to remain hidden is a wiser course of action.”

He forcefully shook his head. “The Akelarre coven has discovered what I’ve done. They’ve scoured the earth, looking for this letter with little success. They were waiting for a spirit medium like yourself to aid them in their search, but your parents broke away from them and gave you up so you couldn’t be used against us. You’re the last spirit medium of your kind, you know.”

My heart nearly beat out of my chest at the mention of my birth parents. “Are you saying my parents were witches?”

“Sí, sí. They sacrificed everything, even their lives to keep you hidden and safe.”

Several things occurred to me at that moment.

One: Miguel had totally played me. He was no doubt responsible for my arrival here on Galveston Island and definitely the one to blame for booking us both in the same room, probably so he could keep an eye on me. This letter, and the spelled artifacts needed to locate the talisman, were probably the prized pieces he’d been searching the United States for.

His ulterior motives stung a little, considering how connected I’d felt to him, and how, on some subconscious level, I’d allowed myself to think that he cared for me.

Two: I’d just stumbled into a huge, witchy turf war that intertwined with my own heritage.

Three: my birth parents were dead. A terrible sadness gripped me with the certainty of that knowledge.

Four: I was in some crazy trouble here. Any fool who dabbled in the supernatural world knew better than to get themselves mixed up with witches.

And I was no fool.

It didn’t matter that I descended from witches. This kind of thing never ended well for the spirit medium involved.

Five: leaving Galveston Island as soon as possible and going underground for a while would be the first thing I did the moment I awoke.

I felt an unwelcome pang in my heart at the thought of leaving Miguel, but shook it off as quickly as it hit. He’d been too good to be true. I’d known it from the beginning, but a hopeless romantic’s heart is always susceptible to believing in the damn near impossible.

I’d never stand on a pedestal and dub myself a romantic, but plenty of my life decisions would lead the most witless observer to that unfortunate conclusion.