Ever Bound (16 page)

Her pale face drew in horror. She could be cruel, and so could I.

The apparition soared toward me, but only jolted me as she passed through my body.

After disposing of her rope-bound coffin in the murky pond, I started back up the bank. Anyone who saw me would have mistaken me for a lunatic. Or maybe they wouldn’t have been mistaken at all.

One of each of Grace’s hands poked from the pockets of my trousers. Probably not a good idea. I turned back and tossed them into the pond too.

I took Pop’s double-barreled shotgun from behind the door of our cottage, got a bucket full of nails and a hammer from the outbuilding, and walked toward the main house. A ruckus had commenced in the parlor so no one noticed me climb the back service stairs to Annabeth’s room.

With all the commotion of having lost her body, they didn’t come when I hammered Annabeth’s door shut.

In the closet, Annabeth’s wedding gown hung flat and lifeless.

That’s all I would have ever felt in this life, if I’d continued to go on without her. A cloak of skin over bones with no purpose or emotion driving me. My soul had died with Annabeth.

Taking a gun propped against the bed, I sat in the floor of the closet, the long train bustled behind me.

“Lord.” I paused, taking in a shaky breath. “My life is pointless if she’s not breathing. Forgive me.”

A comforting weight rested on my shoulders, then floated away. With peace settling around me, I held the gun between my legs.

There would be no more pain.

Not in that lifetime, anyway.

Over the next few lifetimes, when puberty set in, I seemed to wake from a long sleep, a dream of a life that hadn’t been mine. I’d been playing the role of some human I didn’t know when reality hit me. When it did, I always found my way home.

Working quietly at the Rollins Manor, the house I’d known as home for over a hundred years, I kept my vow to never make contact with Annabeth.

I was never really alone.

I had a voice inside my head, or an apparition following me at every turn, tormenting me to insane extents.

Throughout those years, to keep myself occupied, I accrued so many degrees a wall wouldn’t have held all the plaques. Just to name a few, I received a doctorate in medicine, a Ph.D. in psychology, and a Juris Doctor, Master of Laws and Doctor of Juridical Science. I applied to take the bar examination in Tennessee, but sat outside the testing center as other students in colorful shirts and bell bottom pants passed.

No matter what I did to fill the void of space and time without Annabeth, it would always be empty. And I’d always do the same thing. Miss her.

The second time I killed myself out of grief, I wasn’t sure I’d come back. I really didn’t care if I did.

The face of a woman I hated was always in the mirror behind me, but when I turned to look, she was gone. The brush of her hands was always on my skin, though I could never brush it away. Endless whispers of love turned my stomach with every passing day.

And an endless hunger that came with my body mutating into a monster no one could ever love left me empty.

I wanted it to be gone. I wanted to be gone.

After a couple decades of the same circular existence, I lasted a little longer with each lifetime. Each day was the same. Boring, though modern technology offered plenty of toys to keep the male mind occupied. But my mind was a bit different than the normal male mind.

In the beginning, I’d thought insanity had surely taken me to depths irretrievable.

When people walked past, odd jumbled sentences flowed through my mind. I could only figure that the animal I became was still inside me when I was in human form, and that it had advanced senses.

I could hear thoughts of other humans and had an uncanny way with animals.

After so many lifetimes, I began to develop those senses into something I could use.

Through social settings, I learned to make people do what I wanted them to do by some sort of telepathic suggestion, placed thoughts inside their head, and with extensive practice, to erase bits and pieces of their memory.

Those senses helped me hide when the animal under my skin decided he no longer wanted to stay put and to search out a girl with a crescent moon birthmark. Not a lot of those existed. And with eternity to do nothing, I spent it doing exactly the opposite.

If all of Grace’s taunting was true, then a girl who embodied Annabeth’s soul was out there somewhere.

In a moment of weakness, I found her and met with her once in a library in New York City. The second I touched her arm and she looked into my eyes, my soul recognized her, though her appearance was a bit different.

Her hair was blond this time. Not the kind of fake white blond most models wore, but a golden cascade of curls down her back. Her eyes were blue, and on her neck was an easy target. A little crescent moon.

She had no idea who I was. As Grace had promised in what I thought had been one of her many insane ramblings.

I talked with her of the Manor. My job there. The previous owners. Just dropping tidbits of information to see if it triggered anything for her, but in the end it was simply fascinating conversation.

We found ourselves in the upper levels of the library in each other’s arms. She didn’t give me much chance to try to hold back a hundred years of frustration.

“I’ve never done this.” Her brown cheeks darkened further. Her lips curved into a shy smile, but she took my hand. “I don’t know how, but I feel like I know you, and if I don’t take this chance, I’ll hate myself forever.”

For the rest of the evening, nothing existed but us in that library.

“Is it possible to fall in love with someone you just met?” she said.

A whisper from inside my head jolted me away from the sofa. “You’ve touched and now the curse is triggered. Just a few more words, and I’ll have her body. Tell her you love her. I’m sure she’ll say it back.”

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth gathered her clothes to her.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Just like a guy.”

I couldn’t remember what she’d told me her name was that time around. So, for the first time I was like all other guys. But it was probably the only time I’d ever been accused of it.

“No, I have to go to the bathroom. Hold that thought.”

I found the roof and jumped off.

Grace would have had no reason to want Annabeth if I was dead.

So I saved her.

She would have been so pissed if she’d known the truth.

In the next life, I kept my vow. Keeping to myself, I went home and tried to mind my own business.

Until Ava Rollins forced her way into my life.

The Rollins Plantation’s name had changed to Rolling Hills Manor.

I walked in the main entrance and found Ava yelling at the interior workers. “I swear if any of you had brains, you’d be dangerous. This elevator has been in use since my Great, Great, Great Grandfather built this house. Most of you have been here at least twenty years, and you still don’t know how to perform maintenance on it.”

I put my duffel bag down. “If you’d step aside, I’m sure with a screw driver, a can of oil, and some TLC, I can get her up and going for you in ten minutes.”

Ava poised a finely manicured hand on her perfect hip and poked her chin in my direction. “Four of these gentleman, including the head groundskeeper, have been working on her for two hours and can’t get her moving. If you can in ten minutes, you have a job.”

I stepped through them and took the tools from their hands.

In eight minutes, I had her purring the way she had when she was original to the house.

“If any of you dumbasses could work like he had, we’d get a lot more done around here,” she said.

“You would probably get a lot more done if you’d treat them with more kindness.” I couldn’t help it. This woman needed some direction. This house and its curses needed to end. They could with her.

She turned to me. “Do you want to be hired and fired in the same day?”

“It looks like you need me more than I need you. Now, would you mind terribly if I stay in that little dilapidated cottage out back?” I picked up my bag.

Her mouth dropped open.

The head groundskeeper searched through his set of keys, took the key off, and handed it to me. The rest of the workers stared wide-eyed between me and Mrs. Rollins.

“Get back to work before I fire you all.” She turned on her high heel and sauntered through the vestibule.

The farm part of Rolling Hills Manor had closed, other than the apple orchards.

I worked them more than I did anything. I tried to stay away from Ava, for she reminded me of Grace in many ways. I had to contend with Grace’s voice inside my head and all around me enough as it was.

After a few years, though, I couldn’t help but come to respect Ava. She reminded me of Annabeth’s mother with even more decades of sadness heaped on her shoulders.

As if she somehow knew I was different than the other workers or that I was part of her heritage, she was more patient with me. She barked orders to every other person in the house, but I normally could carry on a full conversation with her without the first flagrancy tossed in my direction.

She was a force to contend with in an argument, though, just like her ancestor Annabeth Rollins. If I didn’t feel like talking, she found a way to make me.

Just like she made me tell her all about myself, my lives, and how I could never search out the only person I could ever really love. After I finished the last of my epic tale, I should have known a plan had formed in that demented mind of hers when she walked away from me, humming happily.

Because Ava never hummed.

And she was never happy.

Odessa Gillespie Black lives in the beautiful North Carolina foothills with her husband, four children, Chihuahuas Little Bit and Rico, and rescued Lab and Pit mix, Mo. When not chasing dogs around the backyard and tackling the daily duties of mother-and-wife-hood, she enjoys watching horror movies, and reading and writing paranormal romance. Readers can visit Odessa’s website at odessablack.wordpress.com, and find her on Facebook.

Be sure not to miss Book 1 in Odessa Gillespie Black’s Cursed series.

Their love is one for the ages.

In order to fully inherit a millionaire’s fortune, Allie Knowles must survive a month on her property—easier said than done when the enormous house is haunted by a violent ghost who claims to know Allie. But the true mystery lies with Cole Kinsley, the handsome groundskeeper. Cole and Allie have never met, though he’s been driving her wild in her dreams for years. Yet now, every effort to get closer to him pushes him further away…

Cole has only ever loved one soul and that love has endured for centuries. Now that soul rests within Allie’s body and it takes everything in his power not to confess the truth. For her presence has put them both in mortal danger. Racing against the clock, Allie will have to break the ghost’s curse—or history will be doomed to repeat itself.

A Lyrical novel on sale now!

Learn more about Odessa at
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31686

Chapter 1

Between dream and reality, I fumbled for my phone, knocking over my nightstand lamp in the process. The phone felt like a cold wrought iron handrail of a sweeping Victorian staircase from my dream. I shook off the feeling and answered. “Hello.”

“Allie, you have some mail here,” Mama said. “It’s marked urgent. From the Law Offices of Preston Dawkins of Nashville, Tennessee. You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Seriously? When was the last time I was in trouble?” I righted the lamp and turned off my alarm. It was set for eleven AM, and I had two minutes before it blared some ridiculous talk show host’s voice in my ear.

Mama sighed and glasses clinked in the background. “Well, it’s odd it came here instead of your apartment. And you are too perfect. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Because I fell from the same tree as your other rotten apples doesn’t mean I have to be tainted, too. It’s probably junk mail.”

“Well, to ease an old woman’s mind, would you have time to come open it?”

“You’re not old. Let me put on some clothes.” A night of restless sleep had left me drained, so I wobbled as I stood. “You could always open it for me. I’m not going to convict you of a felony.”

“I’ll just wait. Besides, it’s a good excuse to see you.” She let out a laugh that had always made my less than desirable childhood experiences bearable.

I hung up and fumbled around, looking for my other shoe. Every morning, after that stupid recurring dream, my chest ached, and the cramped one-bedroom apartment was even lonelier. Most psychology books would instruct me to go to a club with people my age and fraternize more.

Outside, a mixture of baby diapers and rotten salmon patties scented the air. Even breathing through my mouth hadn’t helped. The dumpster next to the apartment overflowed. The little two-door monstrosity, which the local car lot had called the best car there, fired to life. Welcoming the fresh air, I cranked the window down as I made my way to Mama’s.