Authors: Delilah Devlin

Shattered Souls (30 page)

Tracing her mother’s name with a fingertip, she felt closer to her than she had in years. Lorene O’Connell’s spirit was near. She would find her.

Cait leaned back in her chair, pulled open a drawer, and grabbed a ballpoint pen. So her name would be added by a pen from Nick the Plumber. She didn’t think the instrument mattered. Cait scrawled her name beneath her mother’s, then turned to the next page.

Morin didn’t watch as Celeste left the shop. His attention was consumed by everything she’d brought. News of Cait’s victory over the demon was welcome, as was the sunlight that filtered through the large window.

However, the gift she’d left in the small box atop the table was what drew him.

Careful not to touch it directly, he reached inside. When he pulled it free of packing peanuts, he unwrapped the edges of the soft lambskin covering from the top and set it in the pedestal.

Sunlight glinted in the swirling depths. He lifted a hand and cupped his palm, leaving space between his skin and the stone. Then, closing his eyes, he called to the elementals, singling out flame. “Show me.” When he opened his eyes, the rose hues swirled faster, then formed a figure at the center, slowly settling into details that made him smile.

He glanced over his shoulder, feeling a presence he’d only lately realized was close by. “Come,” he called, stepping slightly to the side to make room. “Come see your daughter.”

As he bent, he imagined Lorene did as well. They stared down at the small figure in the orb still charged with her energies. Cait was bent over the yellowed pages of a large book, her expression rapt, her lips moving as she read the incantations.

“She’s coming back to us, my dear.”

Please make it soon.

Acknowledgments

I would never have found this story, fully fleshed, without a trip to Memphis with my dear friend Shayla Kersten. I had a dream about an ex-cop in Memphis who found a handprint somewhere a handprint had no business being. I called Shayla and asked her if she had time to drive to Memphis the next weekend (
Easter weekend!
) so I could find my story. Like only the best of friends do, she dropped everything and spent three days with me tromping down Beale Street, crawling up embankments overlooking the Mississippi, and asking lonely trolley drivers very inappropriate questions. Without that weekend, I couldn’t have written this book. So thank you, Shayla!

And thanks to Virginia Ettel, who helped me dress up “Mama’s Spell.” I suck at poetry, but Virginia gave the polish that one pretty spell needed. My inner Cait could never have dredged it up alone.

About the Author

Delilah Devlin was born in Spokane, Washington, and spent her childhood as a US Air Force brat. As an adult, she rebelled and went into the army, the first of several careers that would guide her around the world. Today she makes her home in Arkansas and continues to travel. The award-winning author of several paranormal romance, erotic romance, and erotica novels, novellas, and short stories, she channels her interests in mythology, history, and the occult into her writing.

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