Raintree: Haunted (Raintree 2)

But he didn’t fire. His thinking was usually so clear, so crisp, but at this moment it was anything but. Someone familiar called his name. Raintree! Somewhere in those shadows ahead stood the couple that had recently walked by. He couldn’t see them well, but they were there. Sure enough, the surprised and curious young man stepped into Tabby’s wake and directly into Gideon’s sights, and again his vision swam.

Hope, her own pistol in her hand, passed Gideon at a run. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said as she cut between him and the man who’d foolishly placed himself in front of Gideon’s target. “No, not really,” he added, even though she was already too far away to hear his low words. “What the hell are you doing here?” He shouldn’t be surprised to see Hope here; he shouldn’t be surprised that she so easily gave chase. The woman was everywhere she shouldn’t be.

“Call for backup!” she yelled as she kept running.

Gideon lowered his hand and leaned against the boardwalk railing, glancing down at his torn trousers. He healed quickly, but he didn’t heal immediately. The scratch in his hand was already fading away, but his thigh was another matter, and whatever Tabby had tossed into his face still had him reeling. The knife had gone deep, and he tamed the flow of blood by pressing his hand to the wound. At any other time of the year he would head to the ER for stitches, but not in any week approaching an equinox or a solstice. His presence would play hell with the hospital equipment.

He pressed against the wound and did his best to concentrate, to remain lucid. A serial killer who knew what he could do. It was a nightmare. Tabby wouldn’t go from town to town, not anymore. She would send him ghost after ghost after ghost, each one of them begging him for justice. She would play this game of hers until one of them was dead. Gideon’s thinking grew more and more muddled. He hadn’t lost that much blood, yet he felt weaker now than he had when the knife had cut into his flesh. It hadn’t been sand she’d tossed into his eyes, hoping to blind him, but some kind of drug that was stealing his reason. He pressed his hand against the wound with more force. He wished for numbness, but the deep gash hurt like hell.

The lights of the coffee shop whirled, and he blinked against the oddly shifting brightness. The streetlamps above grew oblong and faded and fuzzy, and his heart wasn’t pumping right. It was off beat, out of tune. In the back of his mind, Gideon knew he should be trying to get up, but more than the pain in his leg kept him immobile. His entire body was heavy, and he couldn’t manage to focus on anything for more than a split second. He could think just clearly enough to know that this was bad. Very bad.

A moment later Hope was headed back toward him, moving a little more slowly than she’d been when she’d first chased after Tabby, but still moving fast. She didn’t maintain her shape any better than the lights above, and he blinked against the misty vision. How on earth was she able to run in those heels?

“I lost her,” she said breathlessly. “Shit, she was right there, and I…” She shook off her frustration and dropped down to her haunches beside him. “You look terrible. You called for backup and an ambulance, right?”

“No.” His lips felt numb and heavy as he answered.

She reached for her cell phone. “You didn’t call this in? Dammit, Raintree…”

He placed his hand on her wrist before she could dial. “No hospital. No backup. I just need you to drive me home.”

“Home!” She moved his hand and peeled aside a portion of sliced fabric, then grimaced at his injury. “I don’t think so.” She pressed her surprisingly strong hand over the wound. “You need a doctor.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You’re going to have to tell her,” Lily Clark said with a shake of her red head.

“I can’t,” he answered.

“You already said that.” Hope lifted her hand slightly and looked again at the gash in his leg, what she could see past the torn trousers. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“She’ll understand,” Lily said, almost kindly.

“No, she won’t,” Gideon said. He was feeling the loss of blood, as well as…something else. “No one ever understands.”

“Understands what?” Hope asked. “Raintree, don’t lose it on me.” She tried to regain control of her cell phone so she could call 911, but Gideon still had enough strength to hold her off.

Maybe Lily was right. He hadn’t trusted anyone with his secret in a long time. A very long time. Tabby knew. Did that mean the secret was out? Or soon would be? He glanced to the side to study the ghost’s pale face, a face only he could see. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe I can tell her the truth.”

Lily nodded and smiled.

“She’s going to think I’m crazy,” he said.

The redhead laid a hand on his forehead, and he felt her cold touch very distinctly. He saw ghosts every day, talked to them frequently, but they rarely touched him in any way. Never like this. “Don’t be like me, Gideon,” Lily said. “Don’t hold yourself back so much. Live well, and leave a big hole when the time comes for you to go.”

He shook his head.

“Tell her.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Dammit, Raintree, you’re scaring the crap out of me,” Hope said softly, and he could hear the concern in her voice.

Gideon turned his head to look up at Hope Malory. His head reeled. His leg didn’t hurt that badly anymore, and though Hope’s image was foggy, he could see that she was worried. He could see that she cared, even though she didn’t want to care about him or anyone else. He hadn’t told anyone what he could do in such a long time, and the last time…the last time it hadn’t worked out too well.

“I didn’t mean t