“If you want to play the age card, I suppose you’re not too old to take over my knee. Maybe you’d like to demonstrate right here, dove.”
I clamp my mouth shut. He’d do it, and I’d like it. Marcellus doesn’t need to know that. He’s lucky the self-assured smirk lining his lips is so damn sexy.
“As much as I’d love to see which of you boys wins this stare down, I got work to do.” Cristobal helps me down, and I kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
I grab my purse and indulge the gentleman inside of him. As much as we gel, we can be like oil and water. I’m used to doing everything on my own, and he wants to hand me the world on a platter, so I don’t have to lift a finger. The past couple of months have been a careful balancing act. We’ve both learned when to give and how much to take. There were times when I wanted to stake him, but it proved to be well worth the work invested.
No one could ever love me the way this man does. Maybe that was my problem. Falling for a supernatural being and then trying to find a mere mortal who could fit the bill.
“Be safe.”
“You too.” I slip into the car before I melt into a puddle outside the house. The man literally makes my knees weak. I focus my attention on starting the car and drive away, filling my head with the task ahead. Rose Cottage Bed and Breakfast had a lot of potential candidates—from the drove of people who died from an outbreak of Yellow Fever to the young girl who was murdered. Boarding homes had so many people in and out it was impossible to pin down all the energies left behind. Unexpected deaths, murders, and people who just felt most at home could all be causes for a spirit to linger.
The issue was the violent shift of their mischief. We’ve narrowed down the most likely angry spirits to a boarder killed in a row outside the property, named Charlie Ryans, a previous inn manager known for his cruelty, Henry Parker, and the unknown man who murdered the young girl. We’ve scoured the records. Now it’s time to conduct our first session in the building. I park outside the B&B and grab my bag out the trunk. Sacha and Fel pull up next.
“These late nights are dicking with my circadian rhythm,” Sacha grumbles.
I can’t contain the yawn that her words invoke. “I know. I woke up completely disoriented around six this evening.”
“Guys. Ghost hunters.” Fel gestures toward us with her perfectly manicured hand. Still can’t figure out how she has the time to get her nails done! “We can’t sleep when the spirits are mucking about. We’re on their time now. If they’re not at rest, we won’t be either.”
“Wow, you really went all Winchester there,” I say with a laugh.
She childishly sticks her tongue out at me. “You suck.”
“No, she’s totally right. It was kind of hot,” Sacha teases.
Fel rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”
The two-story white house with dark green storm shutters and decorative wrought iron railing is a throwback to time gone by. Similar to the homes near the quarters, it stands out in the area.
“I do. We’re burning the wick at both ends, but we’re at the tail end of this case.”
“Good ’cause I’m going to sleep for a week afterward,” Sacha says.
We split the bags between us and walk up the stairs. Taking the key from my pocket, I unlock the heavy wooden door. Built in the early 1800s, the home is like a snapshot in time. Similar to the homes in New Orleans Garden district it has a certain charm not often seen in this part of Louisiana. I turn the lock and push. I can sense the activity.
“Holy crap. I think the business is still booming on the other side,” Sacha says with a snicker.
“It’s certainly active. I could understand why they’d be upset if they never realized they were gone until the house started to be changed.” I peer around. We’ve walked the home during the day, and set up cameras.
“Let’s head to home base.” We’re using the office as our base. We’ve got multiple cameras connected to our computer. We pull out the voice box, our EMF meters, and tape recorders. The motion sensor has been set up in the known hot spot. If something moves, we’re going to see and hear about it.
“Remember the rules?” Fel asks.
“One on the cameras, two together at all times. Constant contact with the group via walkies.” I press down on the receiver, and her’s beeps.
“Good job, go find us some ghosties.” Fel plops down in the brown leather chair. “I’ll take the first shift here.”
“And then there were two,” I mumble.
“Don’t get too comfortable. I’m coming back for the chair,” Sacha says. The beam of light slices through the darkness. The negative space created seems alive with things just out of view.
“I liked this place during the day, but now …”
“It’s creepy as hell?” I ask.