Whispering Hearts (27 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Garrett's heart was beating so hard it was painful. He had never been more scared. Life and death decisions he was used to. Immortal souls? Shit, that was outside of his depth.

All he had been sure of the entire time was one guiding truth—he trusted Rachel. And he could feel how certain she was, even with the pain of what they had to do.

He dropped the trash can and spun her around, pulling her into a crushing hug. He buried his face in her hair and kissed her neck.

“It's okay,” she said. “We're okay.”

Not entirely. Her arm was bleeding where she'd dug into her cut. His stomach churned at the memory.

He pulled her with him as he took a few short steps to the shelf and grabbed the First-Aid kit. His hands were shaking so bad she had to open it for him.

A cursory glance at the wound told him it still probably didn't need stitches. It might leave a scar, though. Another one from that bastard.

She set the kit on the back of the toilet and took out an alcohol wipe. Without pausing, she opened it and started on her arm.

“I can do that,” Garrett said.

“I thought you weren't allowed to treat me.” She grinned up at him.

How could she already be smiling? She wasn't even wincing while she cleaned up her wound.

She threw the bloody wipe into the bathtub and said, “I could use some help with the bandage, though.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “I can do that.”

Now that her cut was cleaned up, it wasn't as bad as he had feared. He let go of her long enough to open the bandage and put it in place.

She put her hand above his heart. “I really am okay. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn't have to do that,” she said. “I would have taken care of it.”

“I wanted you to know that I understood. That I believed you. From what you told me about demons, I wouldn't be surprised if he was heading down the road to becoming one. And that guy with even more power… It's something the Universe doesn't need.”

“I can't believe how much faith you have in me.”

“I can. And I also…” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Elsa told me she felt that she was being guided to save Dante. She knew she could pull him from his time and bring him here. What you said reminded me of that. The way you trusted your power and listened to your intuition.” He shook his head. “If something's out there, some force that wants to help good people and stop bad… Well, I'm in.”

“I hope you're right. It would be nice to know we aren't alone in this.”

“I've been trying to tell you—you're not alone. None of us are. Not while we have each other.”

Rachel's phone started to ring in the other room.

“We should get that,” she said.

“What about…” Garrett looked at the shards of glass coating the bathroom counter.

“We'll take care of that later. It's only broken glass now. But I'm thinking we should bury it in a salt-lined hole. Just in case.”

“Maybe add some cement.”

“You're thinking too corporeally,” she said. “Come on.”

She led him to the guest room, carefully stepping over the remains of her witch's ball. Sunlight was streaming in through the broken window, catching and reflecting on the broken glass along the wall below. Picking up her phone from the bed, Rachel hit the speaker button.

Before they could say any kind of greeting, Jazz screamed, “Are you guys okay?”

Garrett's heart picked up again. Finn had been the closest thing to a brother Garrett had since Dylan. He couldn't stand the thought of losing him. Not to Michael.

“We're fine,” Rachel said, squeezing Garrett's hand tight. “What about you two?”

“We're okay.”

Garrett blew out a huge breath. His eyes burned and he felt tears on his cheeks—and he did not give a damn. His body was shaking with relief. Rachel wrapped one arm around his waist, holding the phone closer.

“Finn, you SOB,” Garrett said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing. “What the hell did you get my friend Jazz mixed up in?”

“Are you
crying
?” Finn's mocking voice came over the line—the best sound Garrett had heard all day.

“Shut up,” Garrett said.

“Oh, I am never going to shut up about this.”

Garrett laughed. He hoped so. He wanted Finn to give him a hard time about it for decades—for the rest of their lives, laughing and joking and poking fun at each other as usual.

“Ugh, bromance,” Jazz said.

“I think it's adorable.” Rachel laughed and squeezed Garrett's waist.

There was a silence on the line that made Garrett uncomfortable. “Finn, you okay?”

“Yeah, man. Yeah.” But his voice was a little more serious than Garrett was used to. Gravely.

“Wait a minute,” Garrett said. “Now are
you
crying?”

“You'll never prove anything.”

Jazz laughed. “Don't worry, Garrett. I'll get some pictures.”

The next sound to come out of the phone sounded suspiciously like kissing. Which seemed like a really good idea to Garrett. He kissed the top of Rachel's head. There would be time for more later.

“Look, we've got a mess to clean up here,” Jazz said.

Garrett laughed. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing.”

“Ours is going to take a while. We need to call the Clearview police—”

Finn broke in. “Already texted them. They're on the way.”

“When did you text them?”

Jazz sounded supremely annoyed for some reason, and Finn instantly went on the defensive.

“As soon as you called Rachel!”

Garrett loved hearing Finn exasperated. It meant Garrett was right about the pair. Double-dates were in their future. He was sure of it.

“I didn't want them to check our phone records and see that we called our friends before them when—”

“Enough!” Jazz cut him off. Garrett could imagine her waving one hand in the air dismissively. “We can explain all that later. Bottom line is, you two need to call Elsa and Dante and give them the all-clear. We are all clear, right?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “Michael is gone—for good this time.”

“Thank you.” Finn's voice had that somber cast again. Unnerving.

Garrett was used to his friend being worked up about cases or laughing about… Anything, really. This was a new side, brought out by whatever he'd gone through. Another scar for his friends, courtesy of Michael.

Yeah, Garrett wouldn't be losing sleep over ending Michael any time soon.

“We couldn't have done it without you,” Rachel said. “We make a good team.”

She looked confused for a moment, staring intently at the phone as if she was trying to see something. But then she shrugged and laughed.

“I'll text you after I call Elsa to let you know they're okay,” Rachel said. “But I'm sure they are. We let them know what they needed to do to protect themselves and it sounds like we were all keeping Michael pretty busy.”

A loud whirring noise sounded in the background.

“Okay,” Jazz said. “The cops are pulling up.”

“Is that an airboat?” Garrett asked. How deep in the swamp were they?

“Yeah. We better go. But we're headed your way as soon as we're done. And I'm bringing guests, so clean up.”

“Guests?” Rachel emphasized the
s
at the end.

“Deal with… I know you can handle it,” she said, then ended the call.

Garrett looked down at Rachel. One eyebrow was arced on her forehead. She shrugged.

“I'll call Elsa,” Rachel said.

“One thing I need to do first.” Garrett pulled her against his chest and kissed her. He meant it to be quick, but once he had her taste, he was lost.

Her mouth was so warm, her arms strong around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him back. She lifted her thigh, sliding it along his leg.

Breaking off the kiss, he said, “Make the call fast and send that text.”

“We still have a bunch of cleanup to do.”

“Can it wait a few minutes?”

Rachel cast him a wicked grin. “I think we can make the time.”

She dialed Elsa's number and hit the speaker button. Elsa seemed to answer before the ringing even stopped.

“Is everyone okay?” Elsa asked.

Rachel leaned into Garrett's chest and he squeezed her tight.

“Yeah,” she said. “Everybody's fine.”

Epilogue

A solarium wasn't quite right for Rachel's needs. She preferred the greenhouse they had built onto the back of their new two-story house. She sat at a round table nestled against the outer windows, watching Garrett run after the twins while Hiram, their eldest, wrestled with Dante and Elsa's daughter, Alexis.

Deirdre took a tumble and started to cry, but Garrett swooped her up into his arms, checking her knees for scrapes, then giving her kisses and tickling her till she laughed. Dylan clung to his leg, giggling madly.

Life was good.

Rachel turned her attention back to her notebook on the table. Elsa and Dante were planning a signing at the Bookwyrm to celebrate their latest collaborative effort—a children's book they had written together and Dante had illustrated.

Rachel was designing an exhibit for the paintings Dante had made for the book. They would hang in Jazz's gallery and tie in with the signing. All the proceeds were going to fund a new wing for the local hospital that would specialize in pediatric medicine.

A high squeal outside made her smile. Such a good cause.

The wind chimes hanging above her head sounded, a cold breeze stirring the pages of her notebook. Rachel planted her hand on the paper and let out a sigh.

“Rachel…”
The voice was right at her ear.

In a calm voice Rachel said, “Yes?”

She took a sip of her tea.

There was a pause. Most spirits were confused when their introductions were met with nonchalance. The windows rattled in their panes. Great. One of
these
again.

Rachel frowned. “There's no need for theatrics. We're having a cookout this afternoon. Please don't make a mess.”

“I will do what I want!”

The rattling kicked up and one of the plants scooted closer to the edge of its shelf.

“I can make your life hell. Make you wish you were—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Rachel smiled as the ghost paused in its spectral posturing.

Rachel pulled on the cord that hung down next to her seat. It flowed through grommets set into the greenhouse's frame and ended on the far side of the space. The cord was attached to a gauzy cloth that covered a large mirror suspended high in the opposite corner. The lever that let her adjust the angle of the mirror was also right at hand. She took another sip of her tea, adjusting the mirror so that she could scan the room.

“Ah, there we are.”

The ghost was standing next to her. They usually did. Rachel barely ever had to move the mirror at all.

This one was a woman. She might have been in her early twenties when she died.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Rachel said. “But that doesn't excuse such poor manners.”

“I… You can't talk to me that way!”

“Oh sweetie…” Rachel smiled. “Let me tell you how this works.”

She set down her tea and dipped her finger into the warm liquid, slowly swirling it around in a circle. As she did, the runes she traced in saltwater on the mirror every morning started to glow.

The ghost turned to face the mirror, eyes widening in her pale face as she saw her reflection. Gray clouds swirled around her, pulling her into the glass and trapping her there.

Rachel set aside her cup and flicked the tea from her finger. Her mother might not have taught Rachel how to handle her powers, but Lillian Montgomery
had
taught Rachel how to dominate social interactions. Rachel only cast an occasional glance toward the mirror, letting the ghost know that she was not worried in the least by the presence of a spirit.

“I hope the accommodations will be comfortable for you while we work to resolve your issues. Please understand that I can't have ghosts who are willing to throw their weight around running freely near my home. There are children to consider. The safety of my family and our guests.”

“How did you…”

“It's neat, isn't it? One of my friends used to be a set designer for a theater. He's a brilliant engineer, though he mostly paints nowadays. Set the whole thing up for me.”

Dante had used cords and pulleys rather than electronic motors. The manual system was much more difficult for ghosts to interfere with and had a cool steampunk look.

“I understand that you might have lost touch with certain aspects of your civility,” Rachel said. “But I must ask you to try to remember to treat me and mine with respect. I will do my best to reciprocate.”

She paused to let that sink in with the ghost. Mutual respect or mutual antagonism. Those were the choices. Rachel wanted to be sure the ghost understood just what it would mean if she chose to make Rachel her enemy.

“You will remain in the mirror until I am certain that you pose no danger to anyone, living or dead. If you threaten me, my family, or anyone else…” Rachel stared at the ghost. “Ready or not, you
will
move on to the next plane, and whatever is waiting there for you.”

The ghost shrank back from Rachel, becoming a bit more transparent. Good.

“But if you are willing to be courteous and explain your situation calmly, I'm willing to hear you out.”

Rachel smiled.

“Now. Let's see what we can do for you.”

About the Author

Cassandra Chandler has studied folklore and mythology for her entire life and been accused of taking fairy tales a bit too seriously. In her youth, when not reading or watching science-fiction movies, she could be found running through the wilds of Ohio and Florida. Raised in a household where tarot readings and viewing auras were considered mundane, she spends her time writing and trying to appear normal. At least the writing is working out.

Her romances range from sweet to scorching, set in extraordinary worlds and driven by characters searching for a deep and lasting love. Her sincere hope is to make her readers look twice at that knobby old tree and perhaps decide to keep salt packets within easy reach, just in case…

She has always seen the starry sky as a destination rather than a matte painting. Her primary residence is on earth, where she lives with her amazing family and a wide variety of stuffed animals, many of whom have multiple PhDs. You can follow her thoughts on writing, life and mostly writing at
www.cassandra-chandler.com
or see her real-time ramblings on Twitter (
@casschandler
). She loves to hear from readers through email at
[email protected]
!