Bled & Breakfast (7 page)

We all held hands.

“Do you have anything that belonged to Thierry?” Heather asked. “I thought we should check to see if his spirit is wandering loose from the rest of his body.”

At my glare, Owen cringed. “Remember, this wasn’t my fault.”

“So you keep telling me.” I tried to restrain myself from wringing his neck. “Do I have anything that belonged to Thierry? Well, his body seems like a good thing. It’s sitting right next to me and you’re holding his hand.”

“Oh, um. Good point.” Heather cleared her throat nervously. “Then I should probably get started.”

She went silent and studied the smooth wooden surface of the table. Her grip on my hand grew tighter. She didn’t close her eyes and she didn’t say anything to start summoning spirits.

“Are we going to start?” I prompted after a full minute went by.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Rose asked, concerned.

Heather inhaled deeply. “I have something to say first. In case I don’t get the chance later.”

Her gaze rose to look at Thierry. Or rather, Owen.

“I’m so sorry you’re gone,” she said, her voice breaking.

He nodded. “That’s sweet. Yeah, it’s kind of sucky. Like I can’t even wrap my head around all my questions. What’s Heaven going to be like? Are girl angels hot? Can I still fool around? That sort of thing, you know?”

With statements like this coming out of his mouth, I was shocked it took me more than thirty seconds to figure out the truth. Honestly, I was embarrassed.

Her expression tensed and she shook her head. “Stop it. I know you’re just putting on this facade and trying to be strong.”

I stared at the two of them. I honestly didn’t think Owen was putting on a brave front for her. I actually believed he was pondering how many hookups he might achieve in the afterlife.

Heather let out a long, shaky sigh. “Okay, I’m just going to say it.”

Hoppy croaked. She stroked his head absently.

“I love you, Owen.” She let out a giddy little laugh. “There. I said it. It wasn’t that hard after all.
I love you.
”

Rose and I watched Owen for his reaction.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. “That’s nice. Thanks. That’s . . . really sweet of you to say.”

Heather’s cheeks flushed. “Nice? Sweet? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?”

“Of course.” He nodded. “It means tons. I really appreciate that.”

“That’s it? That’s the only reaction I get?”

Owen grimaced. “I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you, but . . . I mean, don’t get me wrong. I like you. But I always got more of a sister vibe from you. I never got any romantic vibe. Anyway, I thought you were still kind of hung up on that other dude you were dating before.”

She stared at him. “I’ve imagined this moment in my head so many times, but it always turned out way differently than this.”

“Um,” Owen began, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re super cute. But it’s just not like that between us.”

A shiver of electricity sped down my arms and the candles began to flicker. I glanced around the room with alarm.

What was that?

“Anyway, dear,” Rose said from across the table, squeezing her granddaughter’s hand. “Let’s get on with it, yes?”

It was enough to bring Heather back to the moment. The flickering stopped and the strange tingling feeling went away.

Heather might be a more powerful witch than she believed she was, after all. It made me both uneasy—since I wasn’t sure how far I could trust the girl—and reassured. If she had more magic than I thought, then she’d be able to help fix this problem.

I mentally crossed my fingers.

“Everyone close your eyes.” Heather didn’t sound quite as happy and joyously in love after Owen’s “I like you as a friend” admission as she had earlier. Couldn’t say I entirely blamed her there.

“You know, Sarah, we can discuss this,” Owen murmured. “I know Thierry was probably a bit too much of a curmudgeon for you—”

“Please stop talking,” I said tightly.

“I think I’d make a fabulous husband. We could have lots of fun together. I’m only two hundred and six. I’m a third Thierry’s age. I exude youth from my very pores. Seriously. I do.”

“You’re going to exude more than youth in a minute. Heather? Can we move this along?”

“Yes, of course.” She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. I did the same. “I’m reaching out into the spirit world to inquire if there is a Thierry de Bennicoeur there. Someone who does not belong there since it is before his time. Is he there? Thierry?”

Silence fell—a weighty silence with only the tick of the grandfather clock as its soundtrack. I waited, squeezing both Owen’s and Rose’s hands, and just tried to breathe.

There was a whisper of cool air a minute later. I opened an eye.

“Hello again!” Lorenzo’s disembodied head exclaimed merrily.

I grimaced. “Oh no. Heather!”

She opened her eyes and frowned. “Lorenzo, you’re back.”

He nodded. “I’m feeling much better than last time. Yet, alas, still no body.”

Heather’s face paled. “I see that.”

“Lorenzo,” Rose ventured, as calm as if there was nothing odd at all about this situation. “Maybe you can be of help.”

“I’d be happy to be helpful to anyone. Except my wife, that is! Did I mention that she poisoned me? She’s like a black widow spider!”

“You weren’t poisoned,” Rose assured him. “And Maria had nothing to do with your death, I assure you. You choked to death.”

His expression turned sour. “She
made
me choke to death!”

“No, she didn’t. It was an unfortunate accident.”

Lorenzo frowned. “Maybe you’re right. But she
wanted
to poison me. She told me so every day!”

“Lorenzo . . .” I took over. “Do you know anything about possession?”

“Certainly. What do you want to know, young lady?”

“How do you do it?”

He pursed his lips. “Oh, that’s very difficult. It takes a strong spirit to possess a living body, but it is possible.”

A chill zipped down my arms. “And where does the spirit of the original person go when and if another spirit is successful in possessing them?”

He shrugged. Which, since he didn’t currently have shoulders, was rather impressive. “Nowhere. Possession never lasts very long. A handful of minutes at the most; then the original occupant pushes back. It’s impossible to maintain a possession.”

Owen glanced at me, confused. “It’s not like that for me. I’m in here, like, solid. I don’t feel like I’m being pushed out at all. And I don’t sense Thierry.”

None of this was what I wanted to hear. But it confirmed that something bad had happened, something magical, and it wasn’t just a random fluke. “Lorenzo, what if the body is supernatural in some way? Would that make a difference?”

“Supernatural?”

“Like, it’s a . . . vampire?”

He reared back from me in horror. “Like Dracula?”

I sighed. “I don’t think he’s going to be much more help.”

Rose considered the ghostly face for a moment. “He doesn’t know. He can’t help us.”

“Eyes shut,” Heather commanded sharply.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, blocking out the shimmering image of the deceased Italian restaurateur’s face, blocking out any doubt and fears that had taken up residence in my mind.

“Thierry, where are you?” Heather said, her voice strong. “Come to us. You are welcome here.”

More silence filled the room. I counted the ticking clock all the way to sixty. I wanted this over and for life to return to normal. Or as normal as it could ever be.

Then I felt that whisper of cool air brush against my skin again.

“Sarah . . .”

My eyes popped open. There were now two Thierrys in the room with us. One seated next to me clutching my hand. The other standing to my left in the darkness. Despite wearing his familiar black suit, his form seemed to glow a little.

My breath ceased. “Thierry!”

He looked around the room slowly before his gaze fell on Owen and narrowed dangerously. “What is going on here?”

Relief mixed with dread. Good news, he seemed to be okay. Bad news, he was now doing an uncanny impression of a ghost.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Owen said sullenly, as if disappointed we’d managed to successfully contact the real Thierry. “I possessed you. So sue me.”

Thierry’s dark brows drew together and his gray eyes glittered. “I strongly suggest you
un
possess me. Right now.”

My chair squeaked as I let go of both Rose’s and Owen’s hands and got up from the table.

“You’re here,” I said. “It’s going to be okay. We can fix this.”

I automatically reached forward to touch him, my hand trembling, but his chest swirled like gray smoke. I stared at him in horror. I should have expected it, but it still managed to take me by surprise.

“It’s all right, Sarah,” he soothed, as if sensing my oncoming anxiety attack. He glanced down at himself as his body re-formed. “You’re right. We
can
fix this. And we will.”

My gaze shot to his. “The sooner the better.”

He nodded. “I agree.”

“This isn’t my fault.” Owen raised his hands as if warding off an expected onslaught of anger. Thierry appeared calm on the surface, but I suspected it was his growing anger that made the room feel colder than it had with Lorenzo.

“Then whose fault is it?” Thierry asked icily.

“We think it was a side effect of the séance last night,” Rose said. “My granddaughter is a more powerful witch than she ever would have believed.”

“You’re wrong. I can’t do magic like that.” Heather’s voice shook. “Any magic I have done in the past, aside from the odd séance, I’ve needed your grimoire for.”

“You have a grimoire?” Thierry asked Rose. “That could help us.”

A grimoire was a witch’s book of spells. Most witches had one that they updated regularly with new information—kind of like a really creepy diary.

“It doesn’t contain powerful magic since my magic was never powerful,” Rose said regretfully. “Just some spells to help my flowers grow, some pet obedience spells, and other simple magic. Nothing that could help you, I’m afraid.”

Thierry’s jaw tightened. “Then we have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Can’t you just take your body back?”

When he met my gaze, his finally softened. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Have you ever dealt with anything like this before?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“You seem so calm right now, it’s seriously freaking me out.”

“I seem that way.” His lips thinned. “Remember, though, I did tell you I’m a skilled liar.”

“Oh, crap,” I whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “Bottom line, we need to find a solution. And it must be found in the next three days.”

“Why? What happens in three days?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Thierry glanced toward Heather, who’d gone a pale shade of green. She didn’t speak. Instead, Rose took over.

“In three days,” Rose said, her expression sympathetic, “a spirit loses all connections with the mortal world.”

“Which means”—I inhaled sharply and met Thierry’s serious gaze—“in three days I’ll lose you forever.”

T
hierry nodded grimly.

I gripped the edge of the table tightly so it would help me keep standing. Then I turned a fierce look in Heather’s direction. It must have been fierce, since she literally cringed. “Then you are going to find a solution for me in the next three days.”

She blanched. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. And you will.” I meant every single word. “Your séance made this happen, and now you’re going to fix it.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t know how!”

How could she not know? She could summon spirits with a snap of her fing
ers. She could fill a room with a shiver of electricity when she got riled up. This girl had magic in her whether she believed it or not.

Rose looked dire as well. “I don’t know, either, I’m afraid. Only the most powerful witch’s grimoire could contain magic that might be able to restore a spirit to its original body.” She nodded thoughtfully. “It’s really quite fascinating—don’t you think?”

She and I obviously had differing opinions on fascinating.

“Like I said,” Owen murmured, “you and me, Sarah. It’s not such a bad match when you think about it.”

I shot him a withering glare.

“Excuse me?” Thierry hissed, and the room’s temperature dropped a few more degrees. “What did you just say?”

Owen cleared his throat. “No offense, Thierry, but I think she’d have much more fun with me in the long run. Tell me one thing that you two have in common. It isn’t karaoke; that much I know.”

“You know nothing about us.” Thierry’s tone was pitch-black. “You’re simply a fool who talks to hear himself speak, but your words hold no meaning—just as your life held no meaning other than a quest for momentary pleasures. It was always that way with you.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding, thoroughly impressed by Thierry’s skill at being menacing. “What he said.”

“Does she know half of what you’ve been accused of in the past, or have you shared only the more pleasant stuff?” Owen asked, smiling darkly. “What? You don’t think she could handle it?”

The room chilled a few more degrees.

“If you’re trying to help your case,” I said, every bit as ominously as Thierry had before, “you’re failing miserably. Now, I want my husband’s spirit returned to his body right this minute, and then you can feel free to continue on to find your afterlife booty call.”

Owen gave me a wry look. “Oh, come on, Sarah. You didn’t even know I wasn’t him for a while. Almost long enough, Thierry, for her to get to know me a little better. If you know what I mean.”

His controlled exterior finally shattering, Thierry attempted to grab hold of Owen’s borrowed throat. Instead, his fingers slipped right through like tendrils of smoke.

“Don’t push me,” Thierry growled. “I’ve given you far too many chances already.”

Owen regarded Thierry’s spirit with a sour look as he got to his feet. “Yeah, yeah. I’m so scared. Now you’re the harmless ghost and I’m the one with the heartbeat. It might be stolen, but sometimes you need to take what you can get. I need a body and yours will do nicely, thanks.”

Panic rose inside me as I realized Owen was going to give us a hard time and fight to keep Thierry’s body. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Heather stood up from the table as well, staring at Owen as if this outburst had surprised her. “You can’t be serious.”

“Can’t I? It’s probably your love and devotion to me that even made this possible. What do you say, Heather? Does this body do it for you? Want to give it a test drive later?”

Her expression fell. “You’re disgusting.”

He smirked. “I thought you were pledging your never-ending love to me a minute ago.”

I exchanged a tense look with Thierry, only an arm’s reach away from me.

“What do we do?” I asked him quietly.

“We find a solution.”

“What do you suggest?”

“First and foremost, Owen
must
stay here. You can’t let him leave town.”

“Sorry,” Owen said with an easy shrug, “but I really don’t think you’re in a position to stop me. I have the power now. I know you always hated my guts, Thierry. Why should I care to help you now?”

Fury flashed across Thierry’s expression. “You selfish son of a—”

And then he vanished like someone had flicked a switch.

I reached forward to where he’d been standing, my eyes widening with shock. “Thierry? Where did he go? Heather! Bring him back!”

She gave me a scared look. “I don’t know why he disappeared.”

“Heated emotions will do it.” Rose was still seated at the table. She patted Hoppy on his back absently, receiving a low croak in response. “That surge of energy makes a spirit’s lightbulb pop. It’ll take him a while to gather himself back together and reenter the mortal world. He’ll be back. He’s a fighter, that one.”

Owen brushed the sleeve of Thierry’s suit jacket and straightened his collar. “I should probably be on my way.”

My chest tightened. “You’re not going anywhere, mister.”

“Wait.” Heather ran out of the room and returned only a few moments later with a small, black, leather-encased book.

“Is that Rose’s grimoire?” Owen said, bored. “Going to make some flowers bloom?”

“No flowers today.” Her expression held no humor. “Grandma? Remember the spell for Baxter?”

“Page sixty-two,” Rose replied. “Ah, yes. Baxter. The mutt who kept trying to run away and hump every lady dog in a three-mile radius. The similarity is uncanny.”

Heather flipped forward through the pages.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Sarah, one last chance to come with me on an adventure of a lifetime. You, me, this body—we could have tons of fun.”

He was literally going to do it. Just take Thierry’s body and march right out of here like it meant nothing.

I blocked his path as he tried to leave the séance room. “You’re not leaving. Even if I need to restrain you myself.”

“Are you kidding? I now have the strength of a master vampire. That’s major, sweetheart. A fledgling would have as much luck holding me in place as a house cat wrestling a mountain lion.”

“You might be surprised how sharp my claws are.”

He pushed past me and headed toward the front door, where the large wall mirror didn’t show either of our reflections. I zipped in front of him and blocked the door, holding my arms out to either side of me.

I hadn’t thought of him as an evil guy before—maybe a bit deluded and self-absorbed at the most—but I’d now upgraded him to aspiring villain.

“No way. You’re
not
leaving here with Thierry’s body. What part of this don’t you understand?”

This got another eye roll. “The
not leaving
part.”

Grabbing hold of my upper arms, he shoved me to the right with enough power to launch me halfway into the living room. I slammed hard into an end table and knocked a lamp to the floor, where it shattered.

His eyes widened as if he was shocked at his own strength. “Sorry about that. But stay out of my way and you won’t get hurt. Okay?”

I just lay there for a moment, stunned, until Rose came over to help me back up to my feet. I knew Thierry was strong, but—well, I hadn’t personally experienced it before quite like this. He was Hulk strong. Hulk Smash strong. And now Owen had every bit of that master vampire strength at his fingertips.

The front door creaked as he swung it open.

I hadn’t been able to keep him here through force of will, so I’d have to try a different tactic. “Please don’t go! Please, Owen, we can find another way.”

“Another way? Your way means that I stay dead. I like this way better.” His brows drew together. “Sorry, really, but I have no other choice here. I gotta look out for number one.”

He turned toward the open door and took a step onto the porch.

Heather entered the foyer, holding the grimoire tightly in her hands. She was reciting a spell in Latin, reading it from the pages—the same short phrase over and over.

The tingling electricity from before returned to charge the air.

Owen took a shaky step backward. Then another one, and another, until he was fully back inside the house. The door swung shut behind him.

A little blood trickled from Heather’s nose. She absently wiped it away.

“Be careful, honey,” Rose cautioned. “You’re pushing it too far.”

Heather twisted her fingers into the chain of her necklace and kept reciting the spell without stopping.

Owen glanced over his shoulder. “What are you doing? That doggy spell?”

She nodded, still speaking in Latin. Never hesitating once.

I tried very hard not to pay attention to the fact that she was bleeding.

I mean, I
was
a vampire. And blood was distracting even while currently low on my list of priorities. Finally, I tore my attention away from her and focused again on Owen.

“Good luck with that.” Owen opened the door and strode outside, skipping down the five steps leading toward the driveway. I was about to chase after him when Rose caught my arm.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “The spell will buy us some time.”

Heather closed the grimoire with a snap.

That very moment, Owen smashed into something invisible that stopped him in his tracks. He held his hands up, touching the air like a mime stuck in an invisible box.

He sent a glance over his shoulder. “Cute trick.”

Heather offered him a thin smile. “Doggy spell.”

“Let me leave.”

She shook her head. “Can’t do that. This barrier works to keep you within ten paces of the house. You’re not going anywhere, bad dog.”

Owen groaned and his pout was back. “I thought you said you loved me. Don’t you want me to be happy?”

She wiped at her bloody nose, her strong expression wavering. Then she lifted her chin. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have let my emotions overrule my head. And here we are.”

He pushed up against the invisible barrier for another few minutes before giving up and heading back inside. He didn’t look as defeated as I expected, faced with two witches of varying power, a pissed-off vampire, and an oblivious toad.

“What’s with the smug look?” I rubbed my arm, bruised after my airborne trip across the room into the table.

He shrugged. “You can’t keep me here.”

“Sure we can,” Heather insisted, glancing at her grandma for backup.

“We can,” Rose agreed. “And we will. You’re not going anywhere, Owen.”

Owen peeled off Thierry’s jacket and threw it over the back of a nearby easy chair, then rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt. “Did you forget the part about me being as strong as a master vampire now? I can take this place apart brick by brick if I have to.”

And, if he was so inclined, he could murder every one of us with his bare hands. Or his bare fangs.

I shivered at the thought. Was Owen Harper that dangerous?

Heather didn’t seem nearly as concerned. Then again, she’d known Owen longer than I had. “I don’t think you’d do that. You know how much I love this place.”

“Oh really?” He moved to a table near the door and flicked off a crystal vase. It shattered on the floor.

Her expression fell. “That was a family heirloom, you jerk!”

Rose just watched their exchange with curiosity. “Feeling tired yet, Owen?”

“Tired? Why would I feel tired? I’m alive, I’m devastatingly handsome, I’m healthy, I’m . . .” He yawned and stretched his arms. “I’m so, so tired.”

I exchanged a look with Heather. “Part of the spell?”

She looked just as surprised as I was. “Grandma?”

“A spell within a spell.” Rose nodded. “Baxter required mandatory initial downtime to deal with his naughty behavior. Couldn’t have him destroy the furniture.”

“Which means?” I asked.

“It means you suck. All of you.” Owen dropped to his knees. He slowly crawled toward the couch but didn’t quite make it. Finally, he curled up on the area rug in the fetal position and fell asleep.

Rose studied the six feet of vampire now dozing on their living room floor. “Not sure how long it’ll last on somebody who isn’t a dog. Up to a day, I would think.”

This did nothing to ease my mind, but it did give us a small window of time to work with. “You said before, Rose, that a powerful witch might have a grimoire with the magic to reverse what’s happened to Thierry, right?”

She nodded. “I did say that.”

“Then it’s simple. We need to find a powerful witch.”

Heather and Rose exchanged a look.

“There
is
somebody, isn’t there?” I prompted. “Somebody who can help?”

Heather chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Well, I honestly don’t know how powerful she is, but I’ve heard some rumors. She
might
be able to help us.”

A powerful witch in Salem. The last time I was looking for one of those, it was to figure out who was the murderer who’d thrown a death spell in Owen’s direction. Now I needed one to help me. My appreciation and use for witches seemed to be on a sliding scale. “You’re not talking about Miranda, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. Miranda’s coven leader.”

I
knew
that scotch-swilling blonde was in a coven. “Okay, then let’s go.”

“It’s too late.” Rose glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, which now read twelve thirty. Time sure flew when dealing with ghosts and possessions and wandering vampires. “Go see her tomorrow at noon.”

“Why noon?” I was thinking the crack of dawn. Why waste time?

“That’s when their coven meets so we’ll know she’s definitely there,” Heather said without any friendliness. After all, this was the coven she wasn’t invited to join. “And Raina Wilkins, well, she’s not exactly the friendliest person in town. She likes her privacy.”

“But both of you think she might have a grimoire that could help us.”

Heather looked thoughtful. “Raina’s family has allegedly been in Salem since the
Mayflower
arrived. And there are rumors that there was a powerful witch in her family line killed during the Salem trials, but her death was never documented. And more rumors that it’s this witch’s grimoire that can be found somewhere in her house.”

“That’s a lot of rumors.”