Medium Rare: (Intermix) (23 page)

Alana bit her lip. “I haven’t seen anybody over here yet. I don’t know what I can do exactly. Or if there’s anybody I can ask.”

Rose nodded. “I understand. But I really do need to talk to him. If you could just ask. His name is Skag. Please tell him I need to talk to him. Badly.”

“All right.” Alana blew out a breath. “Am I supposed to get back to you? I mean, am I supposed to be your guide or something?”

“I don’t know,” Rose said slowly. “Maybe. I mean, we’re talking now, so maybe I’m the one you’re supposed to communicate with.”

“I can do that, I guess.” Alana looked pensive. “Kind of strange to end up this way, though.”

Rose nodded. “I can see how it would be. I guess if you don’t want to . . .”

“No.” Alana sounded more certain now. “No. I want to. It’s just, well, who would have figured it?”

“Not me,” Rose said fervently. “We’ll try to contact you again tomorrow. Unless Skag gets in touch with me before that.”

Alana began to fade, slowly, her red cloak turning pale rose, then pink, then transparent. Like Skag, her face was the last thing to disappear. “Nice talking to you,” she said faintly as she disappeared.

Rose sighed. “Not exactly. But close enough.”

***

Evan carried the chairs to the dining room, watching Rose put the living room back the way it had been before. She moved like someone with weights on her feet. She should probably be in bed. So should he. Preferably hers.

She paused for a moment, leaning on the table, her eyes closed.

“I don’t want you to be alone tonight,” he blurted.
Oh, very smooth. Yeah, that should win her over.

She turned to look at him, her expression wary. “It’s been a long day, Evan. First you walk out on me. Then I find Autumn’s safety deposit box. Then my mom gets attacked. Then Skag disappears. I don’t know how much more I can take here.”

“You found Autumn Patrick’s baseball?” He was intrigued in spite of himself.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Skag did. Or rather, he found Clint Patrick and asked him where it was. I went over to Autumn’s house and helped her find the key to the deposit box where he’d stashed it.”

“Oh.”
Do not get distracted, Evan.
“Okay look, here’s the thing—I don’t think you’re safe here, but I know why you want to stay. Only I think I need to be here with you.” He blew out a breath, hoping that didn’t sound as pathetic as he feared it probably did.

She stared at him again, her face weary, and suddenly logic went out the window. He stepped in front of her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to pull her close. The warmth of her body combined with the faint scent of vanilla in her hair to send a shot of pure desire straight to his nether regions. “It’s okay, Rosie,” he whispered. “I can sleep on the couch. Just let me stay here tonight, okay? For my own peace of mind.”

Rose sighed again, a gust of warm breath across his collarbone. “Oh, Evan,” she murmured. “What makes you think I want you on the couch?”

He blinked. “You want me to go?”

She shook her head. “I want you with me.”

Her bed felt familiar. More than familiar—it felt right. Evan knew he should be kicking himself for doubting her, to say nothing of hurting her, but right now all he wanted to do was hold her. They lay on top of the spread, fully clothed, and it was still one of the most soul-shaking experiences he’d ever had.

She slid her hand under the edge of his shirt, resting her palm against his chest, her cheek against his shoulder. He was pretty sure his pulse kicked up a few beats, and he was pretty sure she felt it. He cupped her breast, feeling the warm weight against his hand. His body was beginning to make some very specific demands, but he was doing his best to ignore them. She’d had a tough day, and a lot of that was his fault. He wasn’t inclined to press her at this point.

She snuggled deeper against him, tucking her head between his shoulder and chin. The moist warmth of her lips touched the side of his throat. “Evan,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” His voice sounded slightly rusty. Like he hadn’t used it in a while.

“Could you make love to me? Just . . . you know . . . slow?”

Right.
The
slow
part was likely to be a challenge. “Are you sure?”

He felt her nod. “I’m sure.”

He took hold of the edge of her T-shirt, pulling it up and over her head as gently as he could.
Slow, slow.
Her bra slipped off easily, joining her shirt in a pile on the floor, and he stared down at the cool silver of her body in the moonlight spilling through the bedroom window. Her nipples were dark circles against the alabaster of her skin. He leaned down, taking one in his mouth and sucking gently, feeling it pebble against his tongue.

She gasped, the sound a faint echo in the room, and he brought his other hand to her hip, unbuttoning her jeans carefully. She moved to touch him, but he shook his head. “No. Just you. This is just for you.”

He slid her jeans and panties down her legs, feeling the smooth softness of the skin underneath. And then he pushed her legs wider, leaning to run his tongue along the delicate skin at the top of her thighs.

She gasped again, bringing her heels up against the spread. He worked his way down her thigh with tongue and lips, nipping lightly when he reached the joining of her hip and thigh. Rose moaned, her hips moving restlessly. “
Shh
,” he whispered, “be still now.”

He parted her folds with his thumbs, touching the stiff nub with the tip of his tongue, then sliding one finger into her opening. Her wetness made his groin throb with need—he wondered if doing some multiplication tables in his head would slow things down, but he had a feeling they were way beyond that point.

He sucked against her again, lips, tongue, and the edges of his teeth, running his tongue quickly around the nub again. His fingers were slick with her moisture, her heels moving beside him. She speared her fingers into his hair, rubbing against his scalp as she moaned.

“Ah, Evan,” she murmured. “I need you inside me.”

He half-rose to his elbows, staring up into green eyes glazed with need. “Let me finish you, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “No. Inside me. Now.”

He pushed his clothes down, bringing his hips against hers, closing his eyes for a moment so that he wouldn’t see her desire—he had a feeling he wouldn’t last long if he did. Sheathing himself seemed to take twice as long as it should.

Rose rocked her hips back, opening to him. And then he was plunging deep, the whole
slow
thing long gone. He couldn’t be slow with her, not when he’d almost lost her through his own boneheadedness. Not when she’d opened herself to him again.

Ah, Evan, you so don’t deserve this.

And then the climax shot up his spine like a bottle rocket, taking him over and bringing her with him. “Rose,” he groaned. “Sweet Rose. My Rose.”

Maybe not the most articulate pillow talk he’d ever come up with, but at least it was accurate. Now all he had to do was show her he was worth it.

Chapter 25

Evan fell asleep holding Rose tight, feeling the complete relaxation that only came when he was next to her. He slid easily into the gray zone between sleeping and waking, then he slipped deeper and deeper, sliding down an endless well of darkness.

Skag was waiting for him at the bottom. He seemed oddly dim—as if he were flickering between opaque and transparent. “It took you long enough. Do you think I have all night?”

“You’d know that better than I would.” Evan looked around the dreamscape. Crumbling stone walls. Ceiling so far overhead it was invisible. Cold stone blocks beneath his feet. Barred iron door in front of him.

“Shit. The dungeon again.”

“Yes, the dungeon,” Skag growled. “Of course, the dungeon. Does your subconscious ever go anywhere else?”

“My subconscious doesn’t usually ask about my preferences.” He sank down onto a stone block, folding his arms over his chest. “Where the hell were you tonight? Rose needed you. She still does. Why haven’t you contacted her?”

Skag shook his head, grimacing briefly. If the man wasn’t already dead, Evan would have sworn he was in pain. “Listen, just listen. I don’t know how long I can talk to you. I’m being . . . constrained. And I have information you need.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“Bradford—or rather, the force behind Bradford—killed both mediums. I’m not sure why. Possibly because they suspected he’s something other than what he appears to be.”

Evan took a deep breath, thinking of all the questions he wanted to ask but wouldn’t. “How exactly has he or they or it been doing that, the killing part, I mean?”

“The spirit assumes the form of a calling ghost. Rather primitive, but quite effective in some situations. The ghost calls your name. If you turn around and look at it, the ghost consumes you.”

“Consumes?” Evan raised his eyebrows, ignoring the chill in his blood.

Skag nodded. “It feeds on human souls, becoming stronger with each one. The basic soul eater agenda. I didn’t know exactly what was happening until Rose described the way the last medium died. I did some double-checking to confirm it. That’s a calling ghost at work, but few live to talk about it.”

Evan shivered, remembering Brenda Cerrone’s glowing body. “Soul eater?”

Skag shook his head impatiently. “Ask Rose. Her brother encountered one not long ago.”

Evan started to pursue the question, then thought better of it. “Is that what happened to Rose’s mother?”

“It tried to call her, too, but it wasn’t entirely successful.” Skag shook his head. “Deirdre managed to get inside the front door so that the wards around it could protect her. The blast injured her, but it didn’t kill.”

“The wards?”
Focus.
“What’s wrong with her? What can we do?”

“She’s soul-lost. The calling ghost tried to consume her, but the house offered partial protection. However, her soul became separated from her body in the process, and the soul eater has been trying to lure her deeper into the shadows. If it succeeds, her soul will be lost permanently—she’ll die. You and Rose must stop it.”

“And we do this how? I’m a writer, not a wizard.”

“Actually, you are. A wizard, that is.” Skag inspected his nails. “Your name, Delwin, is almost certainly a derivative of the Welsh word
dewin
, meaning wizard or shaman. Your ancestry undoubtedly aided your father in his line of work. My guess is your family has its own share of interesting skeletons in well-guarded closets.”

Evan stared at him. “Bullshit.”

Skag folded his arms. “Normally, I’d reason this out for you, but we haven’t that much time, so here’s the gist. Item one, you saw Rose’s spirit animals. No one else did. Item two, you’re unreasonably infuriated by ersatz mediums, presumably because of your family’s long association with true ones. Item three, you have an uncanny ability to see through chicanery and fraud, a quite valuable trait for a shaman.”

Evan blew out a breath.
Onward.
“Okay, leave that for now. Why did this happen to Rose’s mother?”

Skag blew out a cloud of ghostly smoke. Evan wasn’t sure, but he thought the ghost had faded slightly. “It wasn’t supposed to be Deirdre. It was supposed to be Rose. The two look somewhat alike, particularly in unclear weather.”

Evan’s chest tightened. “Rose? What the hell! Why would Bradford want to hurt her? He doesn’t even know her.”

Skag blew out an irritated breath. “Oh wise up, Delwin. I’ve already told you—Bradford is long gone. His spirit, essence, what have you, was undoubtedly consumed months ago. Your enemy, the one you have to find and stop, is the spirit behind the current illusion of William Bradford. The soul eater. The demon. You’re making the mistake of looking at the puppet rather than the puppet master.” He was definitely more transparent now.

“What’s happening? You’re disappearing.”

“How astute of you to notice.” Skag showed his teeth in an expression that was nothing like a smile. “The demon has found the channel I used to contact you. It’s blocking me. I’ll be gone in a moment.”

“How do we do it, Skag? How do we stop the puppet master?”

“Watch out for Rose, Delwin,” his voice was faint now. “And remember, don’t look back. Never look back!”

Evan tried to move toward the spot where Skag had been standing in the inky blackness of the dungeon, but his feet felt like he was wearing concrete boots. He thrashed again and found himself sitting upright in Rose’s bed, her hand resting on his arm.

“What was it?” she said urgently. “You said something about Skag. Did you see him? Did he tell you what’s going on?”

He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing.

“Evan?” Her eyes were wide. “What did he say?”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder. “A lot. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. We should go back to sleep now. I think we’re both going to need it.”

He slipped back down beside her, closing his eyes again. They both probably needed a couple more hours. But he had a feeling there was no way in hell they were going to get it.

***

Rose stared down into her coffee cup, hoping the answers might swim to the surface.
Fat chance.
“So we’re up against a very powerful spirit that apparently wants to kill both of us, but Skag didn’t tell you how to stop it. And Ma’s lost somewhere in limbo and we have to save her. And Bradford’s involved, but Bradford’s not Bradford.”

Evan nodded. “We sort of knew that much already, thanks to Alana. I guess that’s what she meant when she said Willie wasn’t Willie anymore.”

“But what does that mean exactly? If William Bradford’s been possessed, wouldn’t somebody have noticed?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Suppose he hired new assistants when he moved down here. They might not have known what he was like before.”

A new line of tension formed across her shoulders. “So it’s something supernatural? Changing its appearance to look like Bradford? But the Bradford we saw at the theatre was real. I mean, we’ve both seen Skag—we know the difference.”

“Maybe it’s Bradford, the real, human Bradford, but changed,” he said slowly. “Maybe what’s inside him isn’t Bradford anymore. Skag called it a soul eater. He said your brother had already seen one.”

She closed her eyes.
Oh, crap. Danny. The carriage house.
“Soul eaters are evil spirits. They increase their power by consuming human souls. And sometimes bodies, too.”

“And your brother?”

“Had a nasty encounter with one. He ended up trapped in a burning building, but he made it out alive.”
Barely.

Evan sighed. “I’d say I don’t believe I’m having this conversation, but I’m way beyond that.”

“And it was a soul eater that attacked my mother, thinking it was me?”

He nodded. “That’s what Skag said. It’s acting as a calling ghost.”

She licked her lips. “She’s soul-lost.”

He nodded again.

Rose pushed herself to her feet. “I need to call the hospital. And then I need to go down there, maybe spend the day. The appointment with Bradford isn’t until seven thirty anyway.”

“Rose.” Evan stepped beside her.

“No, really, I can do both. I’ll go down and find my dad, talk to my brothers. Talk to Danny in particular. Maybe the doctors . . .”

“Rose.” His voice was slightly louder. He put a hand on her arm.

“I can . . .” She turned toward him, her breath catching in her throat. Her lips began to tremble. “I’ve got to do something, Evan. I’ve got to!”

He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I know. I know you want to. But we need more information before we go to Bradford’s tonight. If we’re going to fight this thing, we have to know what we’re up against.”

She leaned against his body, struggling against the helplessness that washed across her. “How do we find any information? They’ve blocked Skag. I don’t know how else to find anything out—it’s not like we can go on Google to see when Bradford was replaced.”

“Use what you know. You’re a medium. Let’s see who’s out there who might talk to us.”

Rose glanced at the kitchen window where morning sunlight poured onto the floor. “It’s daytime.”

“So? You think the spirits are only available after five? Based on what?”

She blew out a breath. “Okay, you’re right. Skag shows up whenever he wants to. Let’s try it. Maybe Alana’s found something out. Maybe somebody else will be willing to talk to us.”

Evan carried chairs while she pulled the table back into the middle of the living room again. The candle was still on the bookcase where she’d left it.

“I wonder if we should close the shutters?” she mused. “Maybe we could make it a little darker in here.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

“Maybe not to hear, but it might help to see. I mean, Alana was a little dim even in a room that was fully dark.”

In more ways than one.
But neither of them said it. Maybe Alana was hanging around.

Rose took her seat opposite Evan, placing her hands in his. She wished she hadn’t had that second cup of coffee all of a sudden. It might make trances a little difficult.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “See what happens.”

She closed her eyes, trying to block the image of her mother in the hospital bed, her soul wandering who knew where. And Rose was supposed to do something about it. Only, of course, she had no idea what.

The same familiar tingling slipped up her spine. She caught her breath. “Is anyone there?”

“Me,” Alana said. Her voice sounded slightly muffled and Rose wondered if she had the cloak on again.

“I can’t see you.”

“I know. I’m just here for a moment. I had a message for you.”

“From Skag?”

“No. From someone else. A woman. I don’t know her name. She said . . .”

“I said I would take care of this myself.” The voice that cut in was considerably louder than Alana’s. “You can go along now.”

“But . . . I’m supposed to be her spirit guide.” Alana sounded nervous.

“Pshaw!” the other woman snapped. “Not now. Possibly not ever. We’ll see about that when this is over. Now run along. I have things to discuss.”

Rose peered through the shadows, trying to see where the voices were coming from. “Can you hear them?”

Evan nodded. “Faintly. It’s not as clear as it was last night, but I can sort of hear.”

A single ball of light shone in the corner, dim but visible. It didn’t resolve itself into human form.

“Hello?”

The ball of light moved marginally closer. “Sorry. This is the best shape I’ve been able to create. Your opponent is trying very hard to block any access to this house.” The voice seemed to issue roughly from the ball’s center.

Rose clasped Evan’s hands more tightly. “Who is it? The same thing that hurt my mother?”

“We’ll get to that. I have a great deal to tell you and not much time in which to do it. It may well find a way to block me very soon.”

“Who are you? Did Skag send you?”

“Indirectly.” The woman’s voice sounded dry. “I’m one of his ‘colleagues,’ you might say.”

“Why couldn’t Skag come himself?”

“This house has been cocooned. It’s wrapped in a number of spells. Skag has been blocked from his usual channels. Fortunately, keeping Skag away took so much of his power that he isn’t able to keep everyone else out. That’s how you managed to reach that rather pathetic creature last night.”

“Who is he?” Rose squinted at the light, trying to determine whether she really could see a woman’s form in the middle.

“Skag already told you that.” The woman’s voice sounded impatient. “It’s a demonic spirit—the name is unimportant. He’s a long-standing enemy of this family. One of the Old Ones.” The light flickered slightly, and Rose felt like telling the spirit to ease up a little.

“The Old Ones?”

A sigh seemed to slide through the room. “They’re the oldest ghosts, the ones from thousands upon thousands of years ago. The spirits who elected to stay on earth rather than transitioning to the Other Side. After a while, they can lose whatever humanity they had and become, well, demonic. Or they can retain some form of their original character, like Skag.”

“Skag isn’t a demon.” Rose’s shoulders tightened. Did she know that for a fact?

“Not exactly. He’s just . . . very old. Much older than he seems. But he’s stayed human, more or less. And he’s looked after the family he left behind.”

Rose breathed. “The one who hurt my mother is a demon?”

The woman sighed again. “You can call him a demon if that makes more sense to you than calling him a ghost. He’s quite similar to the one your brother encountered.”

“But . . .” Rose blinked. She suddenly felt as if her head were spinning. “If this is some kind of demon plot, how do we know you’re here to help us? What if you’re a demon, too? What if all of this is some kind of mind trick? How do I know you’re on my side?”

“Oh, good!” The flicker of light this time looked more like lightning. “We’re going to play philosophical twenty questions during your mother’s last few hours. What a nice idea.”

Rose’s heart thumped hard again. “My mother’s last few hours? She’s dying?”

“She will be.” The woman sounded grim. “You’ll have to help her. It’s the only chance she has. You’ll have to stop him. You’re the only one who can do what needs to be done.”