Swallow the Moon (12 page)

"When I was in his studio, I couldn't think straight. The paint fumes or the music made my head ache – things seemed to move – it was surreal in a bad way.

"I rented a room over one of the bars. So I've got a place to stay while Van restores the bike." He smiled. "The beach is incredible. I ran four miles this morning, it cleared my head."

He set the spoon in the measuring cup, turning to look directly at her. All the teasing was gone.

"This afternoon I was – I heard a voice. I felt – like someone else was talking to me then through me." He pushed his hair away from his face. "I'm more afraid of going crazy than I am of dying."

"You're not crazy."

Eric cocked his head, one eyebrow raised, waiting for her to answer.

"You're dealing with – something most people never experience. It's real, very rare, but real." June gestured with her hands. "The world isn't – it isn't just what we see. There is another world – a world of pure energy, layered on top of ours."

"Can you see that world?"

"Yes, I can." June felt herself blush. She never talked about it, not even to Aunt Lizzie.

"What happened Sunday?"

The level, intent way he looked at her made her blush all the more. How much could she tell him before she scared him away for good? She certainly wasn't going to tell him that she'd swallowed the moon or why.

"I – I called a positive energy to contain the bike and the spirits. You got trapped on the wrong side. I didn't mean to scare you. I am sorry."

Eric's expression was unreadable.

"I don't expect you to believe me." June stood straight, daring him to make fun of her.

"You're pretty strong," he said with an amused glint in his eyes. "I couldn't force my way through it." He picked up the spoon to stir the mix again.

"Since I bought the bike, things have been – weird. I have these really weird dreams about Cora." He took a deep breath.

If the kiss had been fueled by Cora, June could guess what he dreamed about. Cora didn't act like an ordinary ghost; more like a succubus. She didn't comment – this was TMI territory.

"I've been hearing – I don't know – maybe it is Cora." Eric shrugged.

"But today it wasn't just Cora," he dropped his voice again. "I ran into a cop during lunch. He called me Jake. It got worse – Jake told me what to say."

June didn't believe in demons. Wicca didn't deal with demons; they were creatures of the Christian religion. She believed in the rhythm of the seasons, energy in all of nature's forms. Nature was stronger than the pitiful spirits hanging around Eric. They were an annoyance – like mice in a house.

"Both those spirits are part of your motorcycle." June chose her words carefully. "They died with a lot of unfinished business. They are trying to get some kind of closure before they pass on."

"So what do I do about them?"

"They can't do any damage." June thought about Cora – a jealous spirit – and her companion the friendly ghost. Irritating didn't mean dangerous.

"Maybe fate brought us together so I can get rid of them."

June flinched at the word 'fate.' Eric wasn't the kind of guy she wanted 'fate' to bring into her life. Eric was a nice guy, but unemployed, divorced and in deep trouble. He'd crashed into her life – and would likely ride out of it in a couple of weeks.

"Sell the bike. Make them someone else's problem."

"That's not an option." Eric gave her a pained look.

"Get the bike blessed." June shrugged. "It's worth a try."

"Right – bless my bike, Father, for it has sinned." He snickered. "I'd be the one locked up."

"Suit yourself."

"This is ready to pour." Eric tapped the pot.

"I'll get the molds."

"Can you see them?" Eric's voice dropped from amused to serious.

"Who?"

"The ghosts."

"I saw Cora." June rummaged through the molds, taking more time than she needed.

"What about the other one?"

"Not clearly. She's stronger."

He snorted – giving her a look that said he didn't want to believe her – but he didn't want to argue about it. June smiled, giving him brownie points for the effort.  

"They aren't anything to worry about," June assured him. "Ignore them. They're just trying to get your attention." She briefly considered telling Eric about the ghostly kiss and the rose petals she hid in her desk. Likely he would tease her to death. If a spirit had a crush on her, it didn't concern him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." June put the molds on the scarred wooden bench. "I've lived with spirits all my life. They can't hurt you. They are just – annoying."

The look he gave her was speculative as he carefully filled the molds.

"So I learn to live with a dead stripper who has the hots for me?" His smile was quirky; he was teasing.

June frowned – the thought of Cora hanging all over him put her hackles up.

"Terrible, isn't it?" She gave as good as she got. "How many guys can say their motorcycle loves them back?"

Eric laughed, shaking his head as he lounged against the work table.

"A story like this will keep me in free beer for life."

"A worthy ambition." June rolled her eyes. "Some of us have to pay for our beer."

They kept up the banter during the clean up. Eric made her laugh, so when she shooed him out the door, she gave him a fond hug.

She locked the doors behind her – grinning all the way up the stairs. There was a light on in her room. The door was partially closed. June frowned before she pushed it open.

Had she left a light on?

"Oh, what happened here?" she said out loud as she crossed the threshold.

The light came from the scented candles on her dresser – her bed was turned down and rose petals were scattered across her pillow and the bed spread. A breeze lifted her hair – she felt the soft touch of a lover's lips against just under her ear.

Goodnight.

Wide-eyed, she rubbed her neck, all thought of Eric gone.

How utterly romantic – who was this spirit? She chuckled to herself. He was a hopeless romantic, her kind of guy – er – ghost.

~^~

It felt good to wake up without a hangover. Eric liked running on the hard sand in the cold pre-dawn air better than the finest tequila. The gulls and the waves, the smell of the water was enough to make him high. He ran four miles, coming back to the Iroquois with a clear head.

Nothing stirred as he let himself in the back door. Even through the closed connecting doors, he could tell the building was absolutely silent. The silence intensified the feeling of age as he mounted the worn stairs. As he showered and changed the only sounds were guys snoring in their rooms. It had been this way for over a hundred years, he thought as he dressed. It was enough to make the hair on his arms stand up.

Some imagination – Eric made no effort to be quiet as he trotted down the stairs. He was hungry and wanted a big breakfast, not just a couple of doughnuts and coffee. He threw his leg over the bike, bouncing to check the tires. The front tire was spongy.

Swearing, he got off the bike, digging for a tire gauge. It was ten pounds off from yesterday.

The rim must be bent – it didn't take much of a ding to give him a slow leak. He needed a new wheel. He kicked a beer can into the wall. The clatter echoed as the beer can bounced off the wall.

Damnation! He was trapped in this crazy town. His head throbbed, his throat closed and it was hard to breathe. The walls closed in, the hard brick threatened to crush the life from him.

Not trapped, he told himself. Not trapped as long as there were bus-stations and Greyhounds.

He forced his clenched teeth apart, made himself breathe deep, uncurled his fists. It was better to find out now, instead of when he was running down the road. This was a setback, not a disaster.

Inwardly fuming, he walked uphill to the library. He searched the internet for Suzuki dealerships in Ohio. He called several; the dealer in Cincinnati had the wheel in stock. They offered to drop ship it to the nearest post office. He was considering it when his cell beeped with a new email.

The message was from a lab in Lexington. They wanted to know if he could come for an interview. There was a number for him to call. Eric pumped both fists in the air, stifling the impulse to stand up and cheer.

His luck had changed!

Eric made the call immediately and got a slot for Thursday afternoon.

Sweet!

Now he had to get to Lexington, which meant back to Cincinnati to get his Explorer and a better set of clothes. He could pick up the wheel, have his interview
and
make it back to Ashtabula by Saturday or Sunday. He could leave the bike with Van Man Go until it was restored, then he could trailer it home. 

A check of the online bus schedules offered more good news. If he could get to the bus station by three, he could be back in Cincinnati by morning. There was only one thing holding him back – he wanted to see June again. Could he wait a day or was that cutting it too close? As he thought, he rubbed his beard – he couldn't go looking for a job while looking like a Sasquatch. Getting cleaned up would take time.

With a sigh, Eric closed up the internet session. Might as well get this over with – he called June.

"Hello?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

"June, it's Eric."

"I can't talk while I'm at work."

"Okay, I'll make this quick. I – I'm leaving town this afternoon."

"Oh." June sounded disappointed.

Score one.

"Just for a few days. I've got some things to do in Cincinnati. I'm coming back this weekend. Could we get together then?"

"Sure."

Score two.

"Maybe we could have dinner?"

"Yes, I'd like that." Her voice dropped. "I gotta go."

"See you soon." He would be back in a few days, back for the bike – to see her. Right now he needed to pack and get a ride to the bus station. It was time to buy a ticket back to the twenty-first century.

Back at the Iroquois Club, Eric tossed his collection of dirty laundry in his bag. The room was paid until the end of the week; he could leave the heavy leather pants and the helmet.

Downstairs, he asked for a phone book and a beer.

"What's the phone book for?" Peggy Lee asked as she handed over the beer.

"I need a taxi to the bus station."

She gave him a flirtatious smile. "You need a ride out of town? Did somebody steal your bike?"

"Nothing so dramatic; I've got a flat tire and I need to go south for a job interview."

"I can take you to the bus station."

"You're the greatest." Eric grinned.

"Anything for a man who wants a job." She winked at him. "If you want, there's room in the garage for your bike."

"That would ease my mind."

"The bays are unlocked. You move the bike, then let me know when you are ready to go. I'll round up those no-good boys of mine when I'm finished with shift-change."

Eric drank his beer, then got busy. To make sure he could get back to his Cincinnati apartment, he sent a text message to Roger, asking if he could pick him up at the bus station. His bags went in the trunk of Peggy Lee's Cadillac, the boys chattering all the way to the bus station.

They all wished him luck on the interview, waving goodbye as he boarded the bus.

Eric slept most of the trip to Cincinnati. The noise and the heat of Cincinnati struck him as real while the last week was merely a bad dream.

He only had to wait a short time before Roger arrived at the bus station. He tossed his jacket in the back of Roger's car, slid into the seat with a sigh. It was good to be back on home turf.

"Welcome back." Roger gave him a punch on the shoulder.

"Thanks, dude. I owe you."

"Where the hell have you been?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." How could he tell Roger that he was hearing voices, dreaming about ghostly strippers, had been run off the road by rednecks and was saved by a witch? He would end up in an 'I love-me' jacket in a rubber room.

"Where's this bike of yours?"

"I left it in Ashtabula. It needs a new wheel, but there isn't a Suzuki dealer in fifty miles."

"Are you in trouble?" Roger looked at Eric instead of the road.

"I'm fine," Eric lied.

"I'm worried about you, bro."

"Seriously."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I finally caught a break. I've got a job interview in Lexington tomorrow. I've got to get cleaned up and get some decent clothes."

Roger shook his head, but he dropped Eric off without giving him the rest of the third degree. Eric felt equal parts relief and disappointment.