by Linda Howard
“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 to scare you,” he said. “I was just talking to Lily Clark.”
Hope leaned slightly toward him. “Raintree, Lily Clark is dead.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Someone from the coffee shop had finally noticed the excitement on the boardwalk, and a few curious people walked toward him. He didn’t have much time. “Remember when I told you I talk to dead people?”
“Yeah,” Hope said.
“It was the truth.”
Raintree was suffering from hallucinations. That was it.
Hope pressed against his injury harder. Hallucinations from a nasty but relatively minor knife wound to the thigh? It didn’t make sense.
“That’s not possible. I’m going to call 911 now…”
“There’s no time to argue. I can’t go to a hospital this week.”
This week? “Raintree…”
“Watch this,” he said tersely, then turned his gaze toward the nearest streetlamp. In an instant the light exploded in a shower of sparks. The people who were approaching from the coffee shop stuttered and stepped back. “And the next,” Raintree said softly. Another streetlamp exploded. “The next?”
“Not necessary,” she said softly, turning toward the other people, who were approaching once again. She mustered a smile for them.
“Should I call an ambulance?” the burly man in the lead called. He looked like he was in charge, but this wasn’t the manager they’d spoken to earlier in the week.
“No, thanks,” Hope said, sounding calm. “My friend here had a little bit too much to drink and fell, and I think he got a splinter or something in his leg. If you’ve got a towel or some bandages or something, I’ll patch him up and take him home.”
It was an uninteresting explanation, and the other onlookers turned away. “Sure,” the man said, sounding disappointed. “I have a first aid kit with plenty of bandages.”
“Cool,” Hope said gratefully.
“Cool,” Raintree echoed when the man from the coffee shop had walked away to fetch the bandages. “So you believe me?”
“Of course not,” she said sternly.
“But you—”
“I believe something is up. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”
“I told you…” Suddenly Raintree turned his head and looked at a large expanse of air. “Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also stubborn as all get out.”
“Talking to Lily Clark’s ghost again?” Hope snapped.
Gideon leaned toward her. “She thinks you should be more open-minded.”
“Oh, she does?”
“Yeah.” Gideon looked puzzled for a moment, and then he added, “I haven’t lost enough blood to feel this woozy. She tossed something in my face. A drug of some kind. Maybe even poison. This isn’t good. I need to get out of here.”
“You need a hospital.”
“No. Lily says you’ll take good care of me.”
“That don’t look like a splinter to me.”
Hope’s head snapped up, and she saw the man from the coffee shop staring down, suspicion in his eyes.
“Big splinter,” Hope said as she took the bandages from him.
“Are you sure…?”
Hope flashed her badge at the big guy, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Never mind. None of my business.”
“I’ll get replacements for these bandages to you as soon as I get the chance,” Hope promised.
“No problem,” the man said as he backed away. “Don’t worry about it.” He clearly didn’t quite believe her story, but he wasn’t going to stir up trouble and maybe even bring some of that trouble to his own door.
Hope quickly bandaged Raintree’s thigh, padding it thickly and then tying the dressing tight. He was definitely hallucinating, and he needed more care than she could give him. She quickly explained away the exploding streetlamps. He had a secret gizmo hidden somewhere, and he’d used it to short out the electrical connection somehow. Maybe it had even been a coincidence. He’d seen the lights flickering, played the long shot, and won. He certainly hadn’t made the lights explode simply by looking at them. Common sense dictated that she lead Gideon out of here, put him in his Mustang and drive him to the ER.
“You still don’t believe me,” he said, his voice growing thicker. Was it possible that he really had been drugged? She would let a doctor figure that out. She certainly wasn’t a doctor. Hell, she wasn’t even a halfway decent babysitter. In years past she’d proven time and again that she couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive.
“I’m sorry, Raintree,” she said as she helped him up. It wasn’t easy, since he was heavy and unsteady, but they managed. With her support, they should be able to get to the car and from there to the hospital. Their progress was slow, as they took one careful step and then another. To the small crowd who watched from the coffee shop, he probably did look drunk. Just as well. It was an easier explanation than the truth—whatever that might be.
Raintree muttered something low and indistinct.
“What?” Hope asked.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he said gruffly.
“Of course you weren’t,” she answered.
A few
more steps, and Raintree spoke again. “Touch her,” he commanded. “You can, you know. Most ghosts can’t affect the physical, but you’re different, Lily. Your energy is more bound to this earth than most spirits, and if you concentrate and really, really try…”
“Cut it out, Raintree,” Hope snapped. “This isn’t funny anymore.” Her steps faltered when it felt as if a sliver of ice brushed past her cheek, barely chilling her with its touch.
“She touched you,” Raintree said as he took a small, pained step. He looked down at Hope and smiled. “Your cheek. The left one, just beneath the cheekbone.”
Hope’s heart stuttered much as her step had done a moment earlier. The iciness touched her stomach, as if an invisible finger had reached through her clothes.
“Stomach,” Raintree said, the single word oddly heavy.
Hope licked her lips. “I don’t know how you’re doing that…”
The coldness wrapped itself around her ears. Both of them.
“Ears,” Raintree muttered.
They walked beneath a streetlamp. The bulb didn’t explode, but it did flicker a few times and then go out. Raintree turned his head back and looked up. “I can’t control the energy right now. If I go into a hospital, stuff attached to sick people is going to start blowing up.” He sounded a little drunk. No, he sounded a lot drunk. “Take me home, partner. Trust me.”
Hope Malory didn’t trust anyone, not anymore. She especially didn’t trust cheesy parlor tricks and unbelievable explanations. But after she put Gideon into the passenger seat of the Mustang and pulled onto the road, she didn’t head to the hospital. She drove toward Wrightsville Beach.
Whatever Tabby had tossed into his face was beginning to wear off. It hadn’t been a lethal poison or he would be getting worse instead of better. But it had been a drug of some kind, meant to dull his senses. He would wonder why, but he’d seen Lily Clark’s body and he knew damn well the why of it. She’d wanted to distract him, and she had.
More than that, she’d wanted time with him. She’d wanted the opportunity to torture him.
Gideon slipped the protection charm from beneath his shirt and fingered it gently. Hope would probably say the charm hadn’t protected him at all, but he knew better. The knife could have hit an artery. Tabby could have decided to shoot him instead of taking a stab at his leg. He could be missing a finger right about now.
Hope might not have been behind him, literally watching his back.
“What were you doing there?” he asked.
She muttered a mild curse and kept her eyes on the road, which was deserted at this late hour. The beach was quiet. The houses that lined it were dark.
“I’m just curious,” he added after a few moments of silence.
“That crap about waiting until morning before continuing with the investigation? It just didn’t ring true.”
“So you followed me.”
“Yeah. Complaining?”
“Not at the moment.”
Lily wasn’t with them as they drove toward his beach house, but she was still earthbound; he knew that much. Where was she? Watching the crime scene techs study her motel room for evidence? Standing by while the coroner examined her body? Tabby had done a number on the poor woman, and convincing her spirit to move on wouldn’t be easy.
“Once I get you settled, I’m calling a doctor,” Hope said as she pulled into his driveway and hit the remote to open the garage door.
“No,” he said.
“Dammit, Raintree!”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“I saw the wound,” she said stubbornly as she parked the car. “It’s too deep for you to treat on your own, and I sure as hell can’t take care of it. I shouldn’t have humored you by bringing you home, I know, but…”
“You’re already forgetting how it felt when she touched you,” he said. “And you’re forgetting that I saw where she touched you.”
“Nice trick, Raintree,” she said as she rounded the car. “One day you’ll have to tell me how you do that.”
“It’s not a trick,” he said as she opened his car door and bent down to help him stand. She kept her arm around him as they headed for the stairs that led to a door off the kitchen. The trip up those stairs would be slow, but with Hope’s assistance he would make it. He hated knowing he needed anyone, but right now…right now she was his partner.
“All life is electrical,” he said as they climbed, one slow step at a time. “Electricity keeps your heart beating, makes your brain work, keeps the spirit here even after the body is dead. Do you really want a technical explanation? Sorry, I don’t feel up to that right now. Takes too long. Electrons, another vibrational level, does any of that make sense to you?”
“It’s not plausible,” she said sensibly.
“Electricity can also cause muscles and organs like the uterus to convulse, often with interesting and even pleasurable results.”
“I warned you, Raintree…”
“Gideon,” he said as they stepped into the kitchen and Hope switched on the lights. “If you still don’t believe me, I’d be happy to provide another demonstration.”
“No!” She drew away from him a little but didn’t let him go. Good thing, since he wasn’t sure he could stand on his own just yet. “That won’t be necessary.”
He smiled at her, but he knew the effort was weak. He should be glad she still didn’t believe him. If he left her alone she would eventually find a way to explain it all away. Everyone did, when confronted with things they found implausible.
“I’ve always seen ghosts,” he said as they walked toward his bedroom. “When I was little, I didn’t understand that everyone didn’t see them like I did. The electrical surges came later. I was twelve the first time I blew up a television. From then to fifteen, those were interesting years. But I learned how to control the power, how to harness it and use it. Still, the weeks closest to a solstice or an equinox are unpredictable. The summer solstice is almost here. Sunday.” He looked down at her. “I disabled your car.”
“You did not…”
“I did it, and I’ll pay for the repairs. I’ve already made arrangements with the mechanic. I just can’t take the chance of getting stranded somewhere in one of those freakin’ cars with the computer chips in them. Whose idea was that, anyway? Computers have no business in a vehicle.”
In his bedroom, he unbuckled his belt, and removed his weapon and badge. Hope turned on the light as he tossed off his jacket and sat on the side of the bed. “Thanks,” he said as he fell back onto the mattress. “You can go home, now.”
His eyes closed, and his last thought before darkness claimed him was that Hope wasn’t leaving. Stubborn woman.
Tabby huddled behind the deserted storefront for a long time before she dared to leave her hiding place. She’d run and run until she couldn’t run anymore, until her lungs were burning and her legs wouldn’t move. If Raintree and his partner had called in help, the cops were searching way off the mark. All was silent and undisturbed. She hadn’t even heard any sirens.
Maybe they hadn’t called. After all, Gideon didn’t want anyone to know what he could do, so how could he explain the confrontation away? He was freakish enough, but if his talents were common knowledge, he would never know any rest. Half the world would brand him a nutcase; the other half would want to use him.
She’d gotten one good stab at him, but she knew it hadn’t been enough. A little to the left and she would have sliced the artery, and he would have bled to death before his pretty partner could get help. But at the last moment her hand had slipped. At least he was undoubtedly having vivid nightmares at the moment. The drug she’d blinded him with had not only given her an advantage, the effects would linger for a while. What sort of nightmares did a Raintree have? she wondered.
The partner had come out of nowhere, damn her, and she’d ruined everything. Time was running out. No more games. No more attempts at finesse. Tabby didn’t do finesse well.
By Satur
day night Gideon and Echo Raintree both had to be dead. If they weren’t, by Sunday morning it would be Tabby who was in the ground…or in the river, or in the ocean. She didn’t think Cael would bother with anything resembling a proper funeral.
A few drops of Raintree blood stained her knife and her hand. Sitting in the dark, Tabby pulled both to her face and inhaled. She closed her eyes and imagined the power she could not yet take into her own body. This was Raintree blood. It wasn’t as powerful as a finger or an ear or even a tiny slice of skin, but still…Raintree. She’d been so close, so very close.
It was time to sit back, think on the situation and come up with a foolproof plan. She wouldn’t have her time alone with Gideon, more’s the pity, but he would be well dead before the end of the week.
And he wouldn’t be going alone.
Chapter 8
For a long while Hope sat in a chair by Gideon Raintree’s bed and watched him sleep. He tossed and turned, and then finally fell into a sleep so deep it was like death. The motionless silence scared her far more than his restlessness or the rambling or the gash in his leg.
After he’d fallen to the bed and passed out, she’d removed the bandage from his thigh, intent on calling someone if it looked half as bad as she remembered. Somehow it didn’t. It was a nasty cut, no argument, but she was no longer convinced that he needed professional doctoring. It was odd, though, to see an obviously strong and healthy body laid low so completely.
She’d removed his trousers, and then she’d cleaned the wound and rebandaged it. Through the entire ordeal, Raintree barely stirred. It had been a bit tougher to take off his shirt and tie, but she’d managed. She’d left his underwear in place. Her dedication only went so far.
With a damp washcloth, she’d wiped grains of what appeared to be sand from his face. Whatever it was, there wasn’t much of it. A few specks had stuck to his goatee and his cheek, and she gently wiped away a granule that had settled near the corner of his eye. She didn’t think there was enough of the substance to get any kind of analysis on, but she saved the washcloth, just in case.