Witching Hour (18 page)

She held it up to Brandon when the man squatted down beside her. “This has to be it.”

“So how will we be sure we’ve burned everything?”

“Once the articles start to burn, she should begin to lose strength. We’ll just have to hope this is her only stash.”

Jordan held up the hanky, flicking her lighter until a flame burned at the edge of the material. The tiny light wavered back and forth, finally igniting along the cloth. She waited until a good portion of it was ablaze before tossing it inside the hole, praying it didn’t simply extinguish. Tiny tendrils of smoke curled out of the opening, quickly followed by flickering flames.

She backed away, watching the fire lick at the stone when a gust of wind tunneled through the room. She turned, levering up when a set of hands grabbed her shoulders, yanking her onto her feet and spinning her around as the hands settled around her neck. Strong fingers dug into her throat as she looked up, her gaze locking on Cal’s.

Her eyes widened in shock as he snarled at her, a burning sensation building along her skin. “Damn it, Cal, it’s me!”

An eerie cackle filled the room as he dragged her over to a wall, pinning her against it. Black dots flittered at the edges of her vision at the lack of oxygen, a tingling feeling starting in her hands. She tried to beat him away, kneeing at his groin, but nothing affected him, that red color flashing in his eyes again.

Fear churned in her stomach when Brandon appeared beside them. He landed a few shots on Cal’s torso then cinched his arms around Cal’s neck, pulling him off. Jordan fell to the floor, gasping for air, trying to breathe, coughing at the mixture of sulfur and smoke in the air.

Brandon grappled Cal to the floor, glancing at her. “Get the book!”

She nodded, staggering to her feet and stumbling across the room. The bitter taste of blood hit her tongue when the room flip-flopped, and she smashed into the table, knocking the book off as she hit the wall. Pain arced through her head, but she shook it off, wrapping her fingers around the leather and pushing to her feet. Brandon had Cal pinned to the floor in what looked like some kind of wrestling hold, though it was obvious it wouldn’t last.

Jordan snugged the book into her chest and ran across the room, dropping to her knees beside the chimney. She rammed the book at the hole, but it was too big to shove through. Glass broke behind her, and she spared a quick glance to see both men tumble against another wall, landing on a collection of boxes.

She turned away, knowing she couldn’t help them until they’d vanquished the damn witch. She reached for the stone she’d removed, slamming it against the others, breaking off more of the mortar until she’d chipped enough away that the book would fit. Her fingers cramped as she tossed down the rock, pushing the book against the opening. The leather tore across the corner as she wedged it into the hole, fitting the first few inches inside. The wood floor scraped against her knuckles as she continued shoving, jumping when Cal’s body impacted the chimney beside her, crumpling into a limp heap.

Jordan snapped her head around just as Brandon seized her arm, tossing her across the room. She hit the wall, falling to her knees. A rattling noise sounded beside her before the window shot open, crashing against the side of the house. She managed to look up as Brandon stalked across the room, eyes red, hands fisted at his side. She fumbled with one of the containers on her belt, spraying holy water on him as he neared. He cried out, scrubbing his hands on his face before sneering at her again and closing in. She threw salt at him, but it bounced off in tiny flickers of light as he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her toward the open window. Her shoulders hit the empty space, toppling her backwards. She clawed at the frame, locking her fingers around the old wood as Brandon tried to push her out. Slivers bit into her skin as her grip loosened. She kicked at the man, aiming for his groin when Cal jumped on Brandon’s back, yanking him off her. The shift in weight knocked her backwards. She tried to grab the window, but missed, slipping out only to get shoved from behind.

The force tilted her back inside, a cold feeling running the length of her spine. Cal managed to toss Brandon off then darted to her side, drawing two rings of salt around them. Blood trickled down his head as pain etched his brow.

He shook his head, bracing one hand on his knee. “She’s still too damn powerful. But I can’t reach the book, not without leaving you, and that’s not an option.”

Brandon gained his feet, staring at them as if he’d never seen them before. He took a step forward before his back arched, a painful scream echoing through the room. His body seemed to undulate before a white mist bellowed out from his chest, rising above him in an ever-increasing cloud that slowly morphed into the woman from the book. Brandon convulsed then fell to the floor, eyes closed, body limp. Cal crowded Jordan behind him, his intentions written in the set of his jaw.

She grabbed his arm, shaking her head. “You can’t fight her. She’ll kill you.”

“If it gives you a chance to escape, that’s all that matters. Just don’t stop running and don’t look back.”

“Cal. No. I—”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, before turning away. He took a deep breath when another white mist appeared in front of them, followed by more. The witch glared at the other spirits, waving her hand, but they gathered below her, forming a rough circle. The temperature in the room dropped as the mass swirled around her, long tendrils of white reaching toward her.

The witch shrieked, mumbling words they couldn’t make out as she was sucked downward. She clawed at the wood, leaving gouges in the floor before disappearing beneath them. Cal glanced at Jordan then dove forward, kicking the book through the hole. A blast of smoke billowed out from the opening as the old paper caught fire, a new set of flames flaring within the stones. Jordan ran over to Brandon, checking the man’s vitals, sighing in relief at the steady strum of his pulse beneath her fingers.

Cal knelt beside her. “Is he okay?”

“He’s going to hurt like hell, but he’s alive.”

“We should get him out of here. In case…”

His words trailed off as the witch appeared beside the chimney, fingers reaching for the book. She turned to look at them, her form slowly fading until it winked out, nothing but a smudge of ash on the floor as proof she’d ever been there.

Jordan relaxed, leaning against Cal when he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He dropped kisses across her hair, finally resting his chin on her head.

He took an audible breath. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve realized she was still lurking inside you. You hummed that same damn tune earlier…the one Dave hummed that night. God, I nearly killed you.”

She chuckled. “It wasn’t you. And you held it off for longer than Brandon and me did. If you hadn’t given us that time, we wouldn’t have found the charms.”

“Doesn’t erase the fact that I’ll never be able to forget seeing my hands wrapped around your throat. Shit, I—”

She silenced him with her lips on his. “You’re forgiven.”

He closed his eyes, tugging her close. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but damn, I’m not letting you go.”

“Ditto.” She took a few calming breaths. “So what do you think happened at the end?”

Cal shrugged. “I think those spirits she’d been using all these years decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. At least, that’s the best I’ve got. What I want to know is how the hell you didn’t fall out the damn window?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. I lost my grip but then something hit me in the back and pushed me inside. I honestly don’t…”

Her voice trailed off as a cold breeze rustled their collars. She glanced at Cal, looking behind them when a gasp caught in her throat. A solitary white figure stood by the window, staring out at the landscape, the familiar curve of his jaw taking her breath away. He’d braced one arm against the wall, his lower half fading into the wood. He turned, giving them a wide smile before passing through the wall and disappearing into the night. Jordan watched him leave, heart pounding in her chest, hands fisted around Cal’s shirt.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe until his form winked out, another rush of cool air washing over them. “No. Wait!” She pushed out of Cal’s hold and darted to the window, scanning the ground, but only the shadows cast by the trees danced along the dirt.

Cal moved in behind her, snugging his arms around her waist. “Well I’ll be damned. I think I know why you didn’t fall now.”

She shook her head. “He can’t be gone, again. I still haven’t said goodbye.”

“I think Dave’s trying to tell you that you don’t have to. That’s he’s still here if you need him.”

Tears prickled her eyes, and she allowed some to fall as she leaned into Cal. “As long as he doesn’t show up when we’re in bed.”

Cal chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want to see that, either. Now let’s go see if we can wake up Brandon. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this damn house.”

“About that. I have an idea.”

Chapter Twelve

Four weeks later…

Cal relaxed in the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he cuddled Jordan close, drinking in the smell of coconut shampoo and warm, sweet woman. A smile curved his lips as he listened to the birds chirping in the trees outside the window as the first rays of sun beamed above the horizon, sending shafts of light streaming into the room. He glanced at the newly finished walls, shaking his head. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Jordan talk him into buying the Winslow farm, or that they’d officially been living in the house for a week.

Jordan shifted in her sleep, burrowing into his chest. Who was he kidding? He’d give her anything just to see that smile light up her face, or for the mind-blowing sex she’d surprised him with last night. He glanced at the bedpost beside her, chuckling at the velvet-lined handcuffs that hung from the polished wood. They’d more than put them to the test, and just remembering how hard she’d climaxed with her sexy hands bound above her head spiked his cock against his stomach. While the blue color was a bit light for his tastes, he wasn’t going to argue with her choice in toys. Or for the way her skin contrasted the pale shade.

A flutter of cool air breezed over his skin, rousing him from his thoughts. He shook his head. “It’s already dawn. Shouldn’t you all be sleeping now?”

A disembodied laugh drifted through the air, but it wasn’t like the malevolent one of the witch. He looked down at Jordan. He still wasn’t sure what had compelled her to want to live here, though he was convinced it had to do with Dave, and the hopes of seeing his spirit again. And hell, if living with a few dozen ghosts as roommates made her happy, he wasn’t one to argue.

A crunch of gravel drifted through the window, drawing his attention. Though he was still getting accustomed to the different noises of the old house, not to mention the playful nature of the spirits who seemed to enjoy moving his stuff around and knocking over the occasional book, this wasn’t a sound that he’d come to associate with them or the house.

He slipped his arm out from under Jordan, shuffling her into the center of the bed as he swung his feet over the edge. Cold hardwood greeted his first step as he snagged his pants off the chair, tugging them on as he went to the window. An orange hue stained the scattering of clouds, but nothing looked out of place.

He groaned, wincing at the slight stab of pain in his ribs. He’d cracked three of them during their encounter with the witch, and he’d just started being able to breathe without feeling as if his chest was going to cave in.

Cal glanced back at Jordan before heading for the door. While he was sure his imagination was just getting the better of him, he wasn’t about to take any chances. He closed the bedroom door behind him, quietly picking his way down the stairs. Dark shadows lined the corners of the room, a light glow through the windows illuminating patches of floor. Pieces of plastic hung in the main room, the last of the renovations still underway in the parlor.

He glanced in that room then headed for the kitchen at the rear of the house. The hairs on his nape prickled as he stopped at the threshold. The side door leading to the yard hung slightly ajar, the lock resting against the frame. He scanned the room, looking behind him before moving toward the doorway, listening for any indication he wasn’t alone. He reached the door, taking a deep breath before shoving it open, stepping onto the patio. The leaves rustled in the trees as a light breeze picked up small eddies of dirt, twirling them across the lawn.

He searched the immediate area, stepping back in when nothing materialized out of the shadows. The lock clicked into place as he secured it behind him, making his way over to the coffee maker. He needed to relax. Though he was positive he’d locked the damn thing, old houses meant things didn’t always function as expected. All he needed to do was get a locksmith in to rekey the doors. It was just the product of owning a home.

Home
.

He let the word bounce around in his head, though he had to admit—he loved the sound of it. Another smile tugged at his mouth when a hand landed on his shoulder. He reacted instantly, pivoting away as he grabbed the person’s hand, using it to lock the bastard in place. A disgruntled huff lit the air when he pinned the man to the counter, a twinge of pain radiating across his ribs.

“Jesus, Cal. You sure are touchy before you get your morning coffee.”

The familiar voice caught him by surprise, and he released the guy’s arm. The man chuckled and turned around, an identical set of blue eyes staring back at him.

Cal punched his brother in the shoulder, wincing at another pinch in his ribs. “Damn it, Dylan. You know better than to sneak into someone’s house. And how the hell did you get inside? I’m sure I locked that damn door.”

He laughed. “Those locks are eighty years old, bro. I could pick them in my sleep.” He stepped forward giving Cal the once over. “I’m judging by the stiffness in your movements, your ribs are still giving you some grief. You’d best tell Jordan to take it easy on you until they’ve healed.”