From the Ashes (Witches of The Demon Isle Book 8) (5 page)

The thought of him standing underneath the fire-worked skyline declaring his sudden love brought a smile to her face. It was a good match. A smart match. And she’d already glimpsed the goods. He was pure man. Rugged. Earthy. Ripped in all the right places. Big in all the right places. Adorable in all the right places. She moaned out a hungry exhale.

It wasn’t just his manhood perfected that snagged her heart. It was all of him. She’d never seen a man so willing to demoralize himself if it meant saving the ones he loved. He was dedicated. Endlessly loyal. A blend of total confidence or complete self-doubt. And frankly, needed someone like her to kick him around a little and keep him in line. Then again, so did she. And Charlie Howard was just the wolf for the job.

The ferry ride was almost over already. The Demon Isle coming into view as the sun rose and the fog lifted. It was almost like entering some time-shift that took them back many years.

On the mainland, people went about their lives, working, playing, raising families… and here on the Isle, tourists came to immerse themselves in a nostalgic setting basked in fantasy and the supernatural. A world the locals knew was real. Frighteningly so, after the ordeal they’d all recently gone through. But this was her home and she never wanted to live anywhere else, even after all her years in captivity here.

The Demon Isle rarely made steps forward when it came to modern things. On the mainland, there had been so many mind-boggling, attention-grabbing, bombastic-type gadgets, contraptions, and no-idea-what-the-hecks, it had actually caused her to panic, all of it overwhelming the senses.

Lizzy hoped the Isle never lost its old-fashioned charm. She’d take supernatural trouble over the entire world, any day. Magic made The Demon Isle a special place, unlike any other in the world.

An electric tingle zapped through Lizzy. She was almost home.

Lucas joined her by the railing, almost unwilling to step foot off the ferry and onto the Isle. This place was not home, and he was starting to believe it was his own personal hell.

CHAPTER 3

Nearly the entire town had come. The longtime locals at least.

To pay their respects to Emily Morgan’s father. And say a final goodbye to Jack Howard. Who was now dead, for real this time, after coming back to life only to die days later.

Michael drove the jeep into the driveway of the Howard Mansion. Emily was silent as they pulled in; didn’t even look at Michael. He wasn’t entirely sure she was aware they were home; her gaze distant, focused on nothing in particular.

He sat quietly for a minute, getting up the gumption to get out and head inside. To say it had been a rough morning was an understatement. His attention had wanted to stay entirely on Emily, but there was a mass of emotions hovering over the entire graveyard like a vortex had opened up in the sky and tried to swallow him up in it. He was glad to be done with it, and glad to have his girlfriend at his side, all to himself, so he could take proper care of her. It had been one never-going-to-end week, since he’d brought Emily to live here.

Melinda had come home from the hospital and she and Charlie had assisted in the planning of the funeral. Along with a final memorial for their father, and mother, seeing as they finally had closure and everyone wanted to say goodbye.

Michael hadn’t left Emily’s side the entire day. She hadn’t cried, or spoken much as they buried her father. But it was done, she was home where she belonged, and he’d do whatever he needed to see her through this. Something had broken inside her, and it wasn’t getting fixed, easily.

But it also wasn’t getting fixed unless she tried. Or at the least, talked to him. Neither of which she was doing. Mostly, she seemed to be suppressing her emotions around him. Probably for his benefit afraid she’d overwhelm him because of his
gift
of empathy… his Emily, always thinking of others, almost to fault.

But the numbness creeping through her worried him. She needed to mourn and wasn’t letting herself. He also worried that when the floodgates opened it might be too much for him to handle. Being an empath had far too many drawbacks.

He got out and made his way around the jeep, opening her door. She slid out and absentmindedly headed to the house. Charlie and Melinda had stayed behind to finish up at the funeral home.

“Emily,” Michael called out gently.

She stopped, waiting for him to catch up. He grasped her shoulders, Emily’s blank stare cutting through him.

“Talk to me, please.”

Her blank eyes honed in on his face, seeing him clearly. Her silence screaming a thousand things she’d like to say but none of them forming into actual words.

“What do you need, Emily?”

She shrugged and pinched her face inward.

He sensed out for her emotional state but she was holding it in. Michael worried the bubble she was keeping around herself would burst at any moment, causing him to implode when it did.

“Let me help you,” he told her for the thousandth time.

“I don’t know how you can do that,” she whispered coarsely, wriggling out of his grasp, hastening into the mansion. She made it up a few stairs heading up to their bedroom when Michael got through the front door.

“Emily, I’m grabbing a drink, would you like anything?”

She stopped on the third stair and turned to see him. It took her a few seconds, but she finally replied and it was not a drink order.

“I… I want to… I can’t seem to…” she pushed out a frustrated sigh.

He met her on the bottom stair unwilling to let this moment pass if Emily was ready to open up to him. He waited, not wanting to push too hard and make her close down again.

“I can’t feel anything, Michael. No, that’s not really it. How do I explain it?”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallowed uneasily.

“It’s like, it’s all so much, that it’s somehow zeroed itself out.”

Her emotions were still stuck inside, so he couldn’t sense what she meant. “How do you mean?” he asked her to clarify.

“Like it’s stolen my ability to feel anything. Or care about anything. Replaced it with this, nothing. Like I don’t quite exist.”

He reached out and lovingly stroked her hair. “I can guarantee you very much exist, Emily Morgan.”

There was a shy, downward cast of her eyes. Similar to his Emily as she was normally. It was fleeting, but still more than he’d gotten in the last week.

“I close my eyes and I see everything, Michael. I open them, and it’s all still there. Eva, killing my Dad. Riley torturing William. Melinda tied to that stake looking like death. Eva took over my body and I couldn’t stop her because Stricker stole my ring. Eva killed your father. Brutally.” She drew in a ragged breath. “It might as well have been me. She used me to kill your father. How can you even look at me?”

Michael was getting the picture now. But he wasn’t positive how to prove to Emily that his father’s death had nothing at all to do with her. She was not at fault, simply a vessel used for an evil purpose. Something out of her control.

“Emily, there’s nothing you could have done. If anything, it’s my fault for not seeing it soon enough. For not realizing you were not you. I was too late. Even Charlie didn’t see it. Eva was tricky. We thought she was dead. And when we found out she wasn’t, and was with us in that cave, we thought she’d shifted into you and had you stashed somewhere. The blame lies anywhere but on you, Emily.”

Her emotions stayed inside. Locked up, even with this personal blame laid out. Which meant Emily was still holding something in, but he refused to press. She’d given him more in the last five minutes than she had all week.

“Even if you don’t blame me for your father, the things I saw. And heard. Are branded into my brain and won’t go away. I feel
stupid
that I can’t get beyond this.”

“Why would you feel that way?” The very idea bewildering. “You suffered severe trauma. You almost died because of what Stricker and Eva did. You have to mourn and heal like anyone else. You
are
special, Emily. Smart. Beautiful. Perfect in my eyes no matter what. But you can’t skip the process. And you can’t force it to move faster.”

“How exactly did I suffer Michael? I
watched
Eva kill my dad. I
watched
Melinda bound to that stake. I watched… and listened… to William’s torture. Eva took over my body, I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember killing your dad. I don’t remember your brother stabbing me. I watched. I listened. I didn’t suffer. Not like everyone else.”

This was beyond Michael, more than he was capable of dealing with. Never mind keeping his own guilt from consuming him as it was he and Charlie that had almost dealt his girlfriend the final deathblow, thinking she was Eva shifted into Emily’s form.

“You
were
hurt, Emily. And you did suffer. You are suffering. You almost died. That does something to a person. And the rest doesn’t count any less because you watched. Or listened. You had no control over what happened.”

He prayed she was really hearing him.

She leaned her head against his, her body trembling against him.

“I love you, Emily Morgan. That is never going to change. You can take as long as you need to heal and understand your place in this crazy world we live in. I won’t give up on you. Ever.”

“This isn’t my life, Michael. I’m a girl who runs a bookstore. I’m the one who helps with research. It’s not supposed to be so…”

“Frightening. Real. Inescapable.”

Emily lifted her head off him. “I understand why you wanted to get away from this place now. I didn’t before. I’m not naïve enough to think I can force my feelings to change. But I want them to change. I don’t like them. I don’t like being in this dark place.” She stopped, a rattled breath on her lips. 

He dabbed at the dampness around her eyes with his thumbs, caressing the sides of her cheeks.

“What do you need from me, Emily? Please, tell me. Anything… I’ll do it.”

She didn’t answer with words.

A single need rolled off her, freely.

Emily needed acceptance. Forgiveness. And him. 

It ensnared his senses completely, seeping into every nerve, every muscle, making him incapable of doing anything but give her everything. But first they had to get up the stairs.

Michael joined her on the stair, shuffling her up a couple more. Lips collided as they climbed. A few at a time until finally reaching the top. Emily refused to release him, he pushed them toward their bedroom. Her emotions one-minded and flinging at Michael with such urgency. And even sad and broken, Emily tasted of peaches and cream. Succulent beauty to be treasured.

He got them into the bedroom and slammed the door closed. A slew of emotions flying at him, consuming him. Everything she needed from him.

Wetness dripped onto his shoulder.

Tears.

Emily’s.

He kissed them away. Gently swiping across her trembling lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” she told him. “Please.”

Her body remained locked around his and he sensed she was not willing to let go. With a bit of effort he picked her up and carried her to their bed. He’d give her anything she wanted. Anything she needed. He didn’t care what it was. How long it took. If it hurt or was the most pleasurable thing, ever.

It would be another night, worrying that his beautiful light would stay dimmed forever. But he had hope this moment, where he’d had none just a single staircase ago.

CHAPTER 4

Charlie picked up the Mack line the morning after the funeral. When he hung up, Melinda didn’t need to ask, but he told her anyway.

“Another body drained of its blood. This one was found near one of the lighthouses.”

They stared at each other blankly for a few seconds.

“What should we do?” Melinda asked tentatively.

“We’ll go meet with Mack to start. She’s at the morgue. To be honest, my head is not ready to play this game yet, and all I can come up with is think like William.”

“What would William do?” she responded dejectedly. “I don’t think he’d be trying to hunt down and condemn himself.” Although she and Charlie still did not hold any belief it was William responsible for these recent bloodlettings.

“I’ll tell Michael what’s going on, to keep him in the loop but…” Charlie stopped, cut off to the sounds of footsteps heading toward them. “Oh, hi.” He was surprised when Emily popped into the kitchen, grabbing a coffee. To go. And wearing a smile. Not quite her usual easygoing grin, a slightly forced version of one.

“Morning. I’m off to the bookstore.”

“Really?” said Melinda, catching herself. “I mean, that’s great. But are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a work day. I go to work.” She turned, left the kitchen, and marched straight out the front door at the same moment another set of footsteps trampled chaotically down the stairs.

“Emily,” shouted Michael.

Charlie and Melinda met him near the front door. He was dressed in a pair of shorts and his hair was wet.

“She just left,” his sister informed him. “To go to work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah. She seemed… chipper.” Charlie’s voice rose at the end, in question.

“She woke up acting a bit strange this morning. I hopped in the shower and when I got out she was gone. I’d better go after her.”

“Maybe she needs some space,” suggested Melinda. “Or needs to keep busy.”

“Emily is in total denial. She’s not herself and she hasn’t been since… you know when. I just...” a steady run of obscenities spit out of him, his hand rubbing across his forehead. “I’m not qualified to help her through this. What the heck am I supposed to do? I thought she was getting better, making progress.”

“A little time and space sounds good,” said Charlie. Although, thinking about it, that’s exactly what they’d done when Melinda had her breakdown and it did not turn out so well. This wasn’t the same situation though. Not exactly.

“I don’t think I can do space,” Michael admitted. “I can give her all the time she needs. But letting her out of my sight is more than I can handle.”

“I get you’re afraid to let her out of your sight, but is this more about you, or her?” pointed out Melinda.

“Um. Both. As I see it. We’re better together right now. I’m scared to death something’s going to happen to her whenever she’s out of my sight. Even for a few minutes. She doesn’t have her ring any longer, so she could get attacked by spirits. And she’s made a few steps forward in the whole mourning process, but she’s still got a ways to go.”

Melinda frowned. “Sounds like you might need to give her some space, Michael.” She patted his arm kindly. “I know it’s not easy. But everyone has to suffer and recover in their own way. Preferably not my way…” she tried to make light.

Michael nodded. He heard what they were saying, but… “I get that Emily needs space, but I’m struggling to let her have it.”

“It’s been barely over a week,” reminded Charlie. “She buried her father yesterday.”

“Which is why she shouldn’t be at work today,” Michael argued.

“Look, you know Emily better than anyone. You’ll do the right thing,” encouraged Melinda.

Michael cast his gaze between his siblings and the front door. The right thing, and the thing he needed, and thought Emily needed, were all one and the same in his mind.

Melinda shook her head. “You fill him in before he chases after her.”

Charlie smirked, but obliged. Melinda snuck past her brothers to grab a sweater and shoes before heading out with Charlie while he explained the two bodies that had been found, suspected cause of death, vampire bite…

“Look,” he started once he’d finished explaining. “Go take care of Emily. Do what you got to do. Melinda and I can check this out on our own.”

“No. I should go with you. I could do a death reading and possibly luck out and see the face of our killer. But remember, I don’t always see the who, only the how.”

“And if it’s William?”

Michael opened his mouth and let it slap shut.

“It’s like that,” acknowledged Charlie. “None of us can add that load to what we’re already dealing with. It’s too heavy. And it doesn’t make the problem go away. Hunting for a vampire is hunting for a vampire. I’d rather not give him a name. So let’s hold off with a reading until we don’t have a choice.”

Michael agreed. He was in no hurry to condemn William. And his brother was right, knowing didn’t give the situation and auto fix.

“Holler if you need me,” called out Michael. He raced upstairs to finish getting dressed and a minute later was out of the mansion to catch up with Emily. 

Charlie disappeared into the kitchen to grab a coffee to go, thinking there was more of it in his veins than blood at this point.

Perhaps having Michael do a reading would have been the smart choice. Perhaps it would prove better to find out it was William now, rather than later. Get through the misery all at once.

But the thought of finding out their dearest friend, and family protector, was guilty of killing anyone was too much to ask right now. He’d keep trying to disprove it was William, and if they could not, he’d let Michael do a reading.

Without realizing it, he’d stopped down the hall, staring at a closed door. His parent’s bedroom. He’d been trying to open the door for days but hadn’t been able to do it. Today was no different. His arm wouldn’t even lift to try to open it. They’d left the room in exactly the same condition it was in after their parents had died over four years ago. Could not bring themselves to clean it out or remove anything. Because they hoped it wasn’t true. And in the case of their father, had not been true.

But it was real now.

And yet his hand refused his brain’s order to lift and twist the knob.

“You ready?” Melinda shouted from the front of the house.

He gave the door one last stare, shook his head in disappointment, and joined his sister.

They headed to meet Mack at the morgue. The town was its usual mix of hustle and bustle as tourists mulled about, eating and shopping their way across the Isle. However, it was difficult to let the revelry catch them today.

A block before the morgue there was a commotion down an alleyway. A few tourists staggered, startled, suddenly pushed aside; a familiar face popped out of the alley.

“Lucas!” called out Melinda, shocked to see it was him. They had seen each other at the funeral the day before, but only briefly. She’d been busy playing hostess and dealing with the funeral home employees on behalf of Emily. Charlie tried to help, but was mostly bombarded by locals who wanted to pay final respects to their father, Jack.

Lucas wore a bewildered look on his face and did not reply, almost like he didn’t quite see them standing a short few feet away.

Melinda approached him, tapping his shoulder. “You okay?”

He released a breath he’d been holding and twisted his neck, seeing her.

“Oh. Hi.”

Charlie brushed up against Melinda’s side, letting the bumped into tourists pass by them.

“Sorry,” Lucas aimed at them. The tourists shrugged it off and went about their day.

Melinda asked him if he was okay again. 

“Um,” he glanced into the alley and back at them. “Fine.”

“You sure? You look a bit like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” she razzed gently.

His eyes widened a bit and he frowned. “All good. Just um, lost my way for a second.”

“How’s your head?” Melinda changed the subject. He’d been hit and knocked out by the Feyk, same as she had.

“Healed up. Yours?”

“Same. Big bump, all gone now.”

“Sorry I didn’t really get the chance to talk with you guys yesterday.”

“It was a tad chaotic,” Charlie understated, with a lifted brow.

“Yes, didn’t expect such a large turnout of people.”

“The locals wanted to pay their respects. They are good people, for the most part,” said Charlie.

Lucas wanted to believe that, but both he and Lizzy, as Deane’s, had their share of glares and stares. They hadn’t stayed too long, leaving the Howard’s to deal with the locals. It was all Lucas could do to keep Lizzy from causing a scene. One, because she was over the whole mistrust of Deane’s thing, and two, she was pissed at Charlie but trying to play nice since it was a funeral.

“How are you all doing?” Lucas put up his hand. “Never mind. Stupid question of the day.”

Charlie chuckled darkly. He still didn’t have a good answer for that question. Melinda changed the subject again.

“Have you heard from… your brother?” Melinda stalled, unable to say his name out loud.

“No. No word from Riley.”

She nodded, clueless as to what she’d say, or how she’d react if Lucas told her Riley was coming back to the Isle.

“I should get home, let you two get on with whatever you’re doing.” He gave a quick wave and made to stride around them when he stopped and eyed Charlie. “It seems only fair to warn you that my sister is a wee bit pissed at you right now. And not only because you ignored her at every turn yesterday.”

Melinda held back a laugh.

Lucas shrugged, as if to say, you dug your own grave… good luck with that.

Charlie held in the gravel threatening to turn into a groan.

Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? Lizzy had been trying to call him off and on for the last week, and he’d been ignoring her calls. And after his abhorrent behavior yesterday he was surprised she hadn’t stormed into the mansion to confront him. Although she’d been cordial enough at the funeral even though Charlie swore there was a layer of steam simmering under her skin waiting to erupt at the right moment. Yesterday was not that day. But he was running out of excuses.

Lucas waved a hasty goodbye and strode off but not without casting a wary glance down the alley he’d rushed out of.

“Huh,” grunted Melinda.

“What? Other than, I am in a world of trouble.”

“A world of Lizzy trouble,” she returned. “But I was thinking Lucas was acting odd. A bit off, for him.”

“I wouldn’t really know.”

“Maybe me neither, but he seemed off. Anyway, not our problem today.”

“Yeah, let’s not add to it.”

They made their way to the morgue. Mack greeted them at the door and showed them inside. Her normal easygoing nature subdued.

“You look good,” she told Melinda.

“Thanks, Mack.” The sheriff reached out and grasped her shoulder.

“Dang, this isn’t going to be an easy one for you guys, bein’ that William is a suspect and all...” Melinda winced at that. “Sorry. It’s not easy for me either. But I have to do my job.”

“And so do we,” agreed Charlie. “What do you got?”

Without further explanation, she lifted a bloodied sheet.

Melinda held her breath. Charlie let out a whistle.

Mack pointed to the two fang marks on the woman’s neck. It was an unmistakable injury. No doubt, caused by a vampire. However…

“This kill is messy,” Charlie mumbled. “Blood everywhere.”

“You can say that again,” said Mack.

“No, I mean, this kill is
messy.
”

“Meanin’?”

“A new vampire, possibly. One who isn’t practiced. Has little to no control. Or an old vampire with no value for human life or fear of getting caught. William would not be
messy…
” It was the best Charlie could explain it. But he still did not think this was William’s doing.

“Playin’ devil’s advocate,” challenged Mack. “If William was on an uncontrollable rampage and had gone wild with bloodlust…”

Melinda put out a silent plea.
William. If you can hear me. Please come home. Please don’t let this be you. God, I wish you could hear me.

“When was the last time you saw William?” questioned Mack.

“After we came out of the woods at White Pines,” answered Charlie. “We took Melinda and Emily to the hospital and William said he was going home, and would come as soon as he could.”

“But he never showed?”

“No,” confirmed Melinda. “He didn’t. But Mack, this isn’t him. He might have gone wild but it was to save us, and kill Eva Jordan. He was fine when… when he left White Pines to go home.”

“But later? A day or two after when the blood cravings kicked in?” It was Charlie who said it, and Melinda had no argument. “I don’t think it’s William either, Sis. But we do have to consider the possibility.”