The Ghost Files 3 (6 page)

Mama Bear on the prowl protecting her cubs. Nancy is fierce when she wants to be. If Mr. Crane knows what’s good for him, he’ll shut his mouth and do as he’s told.

“Of course,” he says smoothly in acquiescence. “I don’t wish to cause her any harm. I agree, she’s been through quite enough as it is. I only want to make things as easy as possible for her when she comes home to New Orleans.”

Home? I feel my breath whoosh out. “Leave Charlotte?”

There’s a blinding pain that splits open behind my eyes and I blink at the spots appearing in front of me. I have the sinking suspicion…am I close to fainting? I take several deep breaths, and focus on my breathing. No. I can’t leave Charlotte. It’s my home. Dan’s here, and Mary, and I still have to help those girls!

“
Non, ma cherie
,” Mr. Crane soothes. “I wouldn’t force you to leave until you are ready. All the professionals I spoke with advised against pulling you out of familiar places, away from friends and family. If your foster home is a place you feel safe, I won’t make you leave. I’m buying an apartment here in Charlotte so we can spend time together, get to know each other. None of this is your fault,
ma petite
, and you will not be made to suffer for it.”

My hand reaches out and grasp
s Eli’s in a death grip. Panic is hitting full force and I need to calm down. Why does the thought of being alone with this man make me panic to the point of unconsciousness?

“Mattie, are you okay, sweetheart?” Nancy asks. Her eyes are full of concern. She’s never seen me react to anything like this, but then it’s not every day a girl meets her father
, who I’m pretty sure is a bad, bad man. Dan’s mom said they’d taken me to protect me from him. Maybe there is some truth to it.

“I’m fine, Nancy,” I say, putting more of an edge into my voice. “Just got a little dizzy is all. I hit my head when I fell at the airport. The last couple days are finally catching up to me.”

“Maybe we should take you to the hospital,” she frets. “Head wounds are tricky.”

“No.” I shake my head very carefully. “I’ll be fine, I just need rest. Dan, can you give me a ride home? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” he nods.

“I’ll come, too,” Eli says, smoothly inviting himself along. I roll my eyes at the hostile expression consuming Dan’s face.

“Whatever.” I stand before Dan can argue. “Eli might be able to help.” Besides, I need the warmth his body gives off. He takes the edge off the cold.

“Okay. I’ll find your foster family and let them know Dan will be taking you home.” Nancy sighs. “Dan, if her headache gets worse, force her to the emergency room.”

“Will do, Mrs. Moriarity.”

“Mattie, it was nice to meet you.” Mr. Crane holds out his hand for me to shake and I’m leery of touching him, but with everyone staring at me, I can’t
not
be polite. Nancy will have a seizure if I don’t. Here goes.

“You too, Mr. Crane.” I grasp the proffered hand and instead of snatching it back, want to pull him to me and hug the man instead. I can sense emotions in ghosts sometimes when they’re broadcasting really, really loudly. This man is screaming his emotions. I can feel pain, grief, love, but mostly I feel joy. He is so full of joy that he’s found me.

“I’m not as bad as you think,” he tells me softly. “And I’m so glad I’ve found you, my Emma Rose.”

I nod and reluctantly pull my hand out of his, not wanting to lose those feelings, despite the definite impression that Ezekiel Crane is dangerous. I also know he’s my father. DNA results or not, everything inside of me shouted family when he took my hand. Maybe there
is
something to that old saying about blood knowing blood.

“I will see you soon,
ma petite
,” he tells me with a reassuring smile.

“Come on, Mattie.” Eli grabs my hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I still can’t believe it. I finally found my dad.

Chapter Six

I roll my eyes when Eli puts himself between me and Dan in the cab of the truck. I swear, the two of them are ridiculous.

“Your dad is officially on my scary-freaky-people list,” Eli tells me, his face all serious. “Did either of you get bad vibes from him?”

Dan nods. “Yeah, he gave me the creeps, too.”

“Can we not talk about that?” I’m not in the mood to discuss my father. I need to talk about the missing girls. “I have more important things to discuss like the ghosts that attacked me in the airport bathroom.”

“I wondered when you were going to tell me about that,” Dan says and turns onto I-85.

“It’ll be more than a mention. To start with, there are
several
pissed-off girls who blame me for their deaths.”

“You?” Eli frowns. “Why?”

“I got an up close and personal look at the why,” I whisper and describe my ghostly vision, leaving out nothing, not even the part I wanted to forget. Okay, I
know
it didn’t happen to me, but it sure feels like it did.

“Oh, that sucks.” Eli pulls me close and buries his nose in my hair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mattie.”

I really, really like the feel of his warm breath stirring my hair, but I won’t admit that to him. “Is there something you guys can do? Like what you did in New Orleans when you muted the ghosts? I’d rather be an observer than an on-board passenger. I can’t do that again, Eli. It’s like…I have a feeling all of them will make me experience their deaths before this is finished.”

“I’ll check,” he agrees. “Caleb’s pretty good at altering designs to fit what he needs them to do.”

“How many girls are there?” Dan asks, doing his best not to
seem
bothered by the fact his brother has his arm around me. “Can you describe them to me?”

For once I don’t smile at Dan’s jealousy. “I’m not sure exactly. I only saw two of them, but they said there were others. Maybe eight? I’m guessing. I can draw you the ones I saw. I think the one girl died around Lake Norman. I remember the woods and the water. No, I’m sure it’s Lake Norman. That’s where she thought she was, so yeah, Lake Norman.”

“Mattie, I’ll get a sketch artist if we need to,” Dan frowns. “Your hands are still pretty messed up.”

“About that…” I start, then stop when both guys give me sharp looks. Oops. I have
got
to control my guilty tone of voice better in these situations. I’m a good liar, but it’s hard to do around these two. Besides, it’s not like I have anything to feel guilty about, at least
I
don’t think so.

“Mattie…” Dan urged.

“In a second.” I need time to stop thinking about my old serial-killer foster mother—the one who’d kidnapped and tortured me for a few days? That one. Yeah, she pretty much destroyed my hands. I’d been a very good artist before then, but afterwards, the doctors figured I’d never draw again. That’s mostly what pushed me into the spiral of self-destruction I’d been on before New Orleans.

“Mattie…” This time
it’s Eli getting pushy.

Telling them the rest would be hard, but necessary
—how it was while in New Orleans, Demon Silas—who’d visited me through my dreams—healed my hands. Dan and Eli won’t be very understanding about this.
I’m
still pretty freaked. “Maybe we should talk about it when we get home?” I hedge.

“Mattie…” they chorused.

I hear the warning in Dan’s voice, which causes me to sigh. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“
What’s
not that big a deal?” Eli asks, almost giving me the stink-eye.

Just say it, Hathaway
. “Well, um, while I was in the hospital, my hands sorta got healed.”

“Sort of?” Now Eli sounds suspicious. “People don’t just ‘sort of’ get healed, Hilda.”

“Stop with the Hilda stuff.” I totally hate that nickname. “Don’t get your panties in a twist about the healing, either,” I say. “It’s not as bad as you both think.”

“Let us be the judge of that, Squirt,” Dan says, glancing quickly to the right and back at the road. “How exactly did you get your hands healed and by whom? Or are you claiming divine miraculous intervention?”

“No, the divine had nothing to do with it,” I sigh. “More like…well…”

“Spit it out, Mattie!” Eli sounds irritated.

Nothing like having them both pissed at me at the same time. “Do you remember the painter I’ve been dreaming of, Dan?”

“The same painter who slit your wrist not once, but twice?” he demands.

I wince.
So
not the reaction I was hoping for. “Yeah, well, there’s more.”

“More?” Dan exclaims. “Worse more?”

“Maybe.” I lean away from the anger emanating from Dan and snuggle against Eli. I love the heat his body generates and sigh. Yep, I probably should have told Dan about my hands before we left New Orleans. He’s mad I didn’t tell him. But I needed time to come to grips with it myself before I started blabbing to everybody.

“Hold up a second,” Eli interrupts. “The painter cut your wrists in the dream, right? I remember Dan saying something about that in New Orleans.” He glances at the scar on my wrist. “I don’t understand.”

“I carried the wound out of my dream and into the real world,” I explain. “Not something I’m happy about, either. Yet another reason to distance myself from the dreams and the visions.”

“I’m still waiting on the
worse
part of more, Mattie,” Dan says, his voice thick with anger.

Jeez, who put a bee up his bonnet? “The painter is the one who healed my hands,” I say quietly.

“Didn’t you say your mom was talking about protecting you from…the
painter
?” Eli asks, now wearing his thoughtful face.

Holy crap. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that.” I’d been so focused on everything bad that happened recently, I’d forgotten all about Mom’s craziness. “I had no idea the painter was Silas.”

“SILAS!” both men shout in unison.

I cover my ears at the explosion. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Yes, both of them know that Silas is a demon. He’d made a deal with the woman who used to live in the haunted house we’d visited do
wn in New Orleans. Elizabeth…something. I’d found her diary, which told the story of how she’d bargained with a demon to escape her evil husband, Jonas.

The drive continues in silence. I’m not so sure it’s a good silence. One peek at Dan’s clenching jaw muscles
shows he is sooo pissed. Nope, not another word out of me. Not yet. He’ll hate it.

Finally, Dan takes the exit and heads toward my new house. He’s still fuming. I’m in s-o-o-o much trouble.

When we pull into Mary’s driveway, I waste no time getting out of the truck to separate myself from the testosterone war about to be unleashed. I make it as far as the door before remembering I don’t have a key. Fudgepops. I’d left for New Orleans before Mrs. Cross could give me one. Well, that’s just dandy. My head makes a thud as I let it bump against the doorframe then sink down onto the porch floor, awaiting the wrath of the brothers.

Eli sits next to me and Dan leans on the porch railing. I shiver as cold comes at me from all sides. Great. Ghosts again. Mrs. Cross works in a hospital and I’m betting she’s brought a few home with her. People
can
pick up ghosts like hitchhikers. A hospital and cemetery are the two biggest places to accidentally acquire ghosts.

“Cold?” Eli murmurs and I nod. Before I can even blink, he’s hauled me into his lap and wrapped both his arms and legs around me. Heat invades me and I sigh and snuggle into him. Nice. The Spook Doctor says I stay cold because my essence is made up of ghost energy and I’m a beacon to the little buggers, and
that’s why I’m always cold. Eli emanates enough heat to actually make me warm. Really and truly warm. But Dan clearly doesn’t like me being in Eli’s arms. His face is murderous. Tough. “Are you always this warm?” I ask Eli.

“No,” he says. “It only really happens around
you
.”

No kidding! “Does it freak you out?” Weird stuff like this always happens to me.

“Nah, Hilda, I’m good,” Eli answers.

I grin at the laughter in his voice.

“Silas?” Dan bites out. “Start talking.”

I close my eyes. Dan is still pissed, but I’m not sure what he’s more upset about, Silas or Eli. Just a week ago, I would’ve been happy for his reaction. I wanted him to want me like this, but since meeting Eli, I don’t know anymore. It feels different. Eli
feels like home when I’m with him. I’d hoped to have more time to sort it out, but then his dad decided to move the family to Charlotte to be near Dan. Eli confuses and confounds me,
and
makes me feel so many emotions all at once. What a rollercoaster ride!

“Start with the dreams,” Eli whispers against my ear and I shiver in response. That nauseous feeling creeps back into my stomach. Drat. I feel hot and flustered with the feel of his warm breath on my ear.