Gatekeeper (28 page)

“Benton?” Jillian called to him. “Benton, please…don’t let this happen!”

Weakly, he lifted his gaze to hers. He muttered her name but the sound oddly did not match the movement of his mouth. Sorrow emanated from his gray eyes. Sorrow and resignation. He’d given up. Despair flooded Jillian.

“No!” she wailed. “Hattie…don’t do this!”

But Hattie only laughed again and seized a fistful of Benton’s coat in her hand. Her pale face turned to the sky, to where the soul collector’s lingered. “Now you have two of us.”

No sooner had she uttered the words than an unearthly hiss cut through the air and the soul collectors dove on their quarry.

Jillian’s heart sank. She dropped to her knees as the black beings engulfed Hattie and Benton. The stench of sulfur assailed her nostrils. Hattie’s tortured screams filled the night air but Benton remained eerily silent. They were taking him, taking him and there was nothing she could do about it.

The other revenants slithered out of the darkness and surrounded them, their gaunt, staring faces hollow and frightening.

Jillian doubled over and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to close out the chilling sounds of Hattie’s screams and the horrible, nauseating stink. She was too late. Too late.

She could not let him go like this. There had to be something…

Clarity swept over her. She did have
something
.

She had
her Light
.

She inhaled and raised her arms to the heavens and with all the power she possessed, she called in the Light. She called in the power of the Universe, beseeching for mercy, bargaining and begging for Benton’s soul. The darkness parted and a Light so strong it was palpable, visible—blinding—descended on the hilltop.

Jillian squinted against it, shielding her eyes with the back of hand. Some of the soul collectors were fleeing. One dove at her, its claws raking her arm. Jillian gasped and concentrated her Light on the creature. She watched, amazed, as lightning spiraled from her fingertips and forced the being back.

It was working.
It was working.

Her heart soared but her relief was short lived. Her Light began to grow dimmer and as it subsided, the soul collectors began to return. “No,” Jillian screamed above the din. “I won’t let you take him!” And then, Amy’s words resounded in her head.

Love is the strongest power in the Universe.

Jillian’s gaze found Benton.

Had she ever truly known love before her encounter with Benton? Had she ever understood its power to render a person utterly vulnerable and yet empower them in ways unimaginable?

Love.

Jillian took a deep breath, mentally connecting her mind and heart, allowing herself to become one with love. Her thoughts flooded with images of Benton holding her, kissing her, loving her, until she felt as if her heart would burst. She exhaled slowly, projecting that power toward the soul collectors, toward the revenants, toward Harriet Cooke—and toward Benton.

The wind rose and whistled through the trees. Thunder boomed. The soul collectors’ howls rang out in a strange harmony with Hattie’s screams. Pain seared through Jillian as if her own soul was being ripped out of her body. But still, she drew love in through her being as if she were a magnet, radiating it, connecting her soul with Benton’s soul, becoming one with him and flooding him with her love until she fell, exhausted, facedown in the damp grass.

The night was suddenly still and quiet and Jillian realized she was cold and sore and aching from head to toe. There was no more hissing. There were no more screams. Only a deathly, pervading silence more terrifying than the noise.

Jillian took deep, gulping breaths of air. A scorching pain burned her palm. She opened her eyes and unclenched her fist. It was the button! But how…

Jillian gasped as it began to smolder and sizzle. Acrid smoke choked her and she watched as the button disintegrated, leaving nothing but a charred stain on her bloody palm.

Jillian’s gaze shot to Benton. Bathed in a brilliant white glow, he smiled at her. The other revenants were no longer hollow shades. Their faces were bright, gleaming—and turned toward the Light which radiated down from above. Even Harriet smiled.

The soul collectors sizzled and exploded like fireworks when the Light’s rays touched them.

Vaguely aware the Light was drawing the souls up one by one, Jillian could only stare at Benton, his handsome face illuminated by the Light. Joy coursed through her being. She had rescued him. She had saved not only him but all of them.

Scrambling up off the ground, she staggered across the damp grass until she was only feet from him. He was beautiful in the glittering Light. Beautiful and whole.

But the Light was about to take him away. His feet left the ground. “Wait! Wait!” he yelled at the sky and at once, he descended, his boots firmly returning to the ground.

Jillian trembled. “Will I see you again?” A solitary tear made its way down her cheek.

Benton’s eyes shone with gratitude, with love. He glanced up at the source of the Light and then returned his gaze to Jillian’s. His gray eyes turned wistful, sad. “I see heaven…but I don’t want to leave you.”

Jillian’s heart turned over hard. If only she could touch him, hold him, feel his arms around her one more time. But she knew better. He was free of the Earth’s bonds. Free. She had released him and she knew he had to go. “I love you,” she said, her voice but a whisper. “I will always love you…but they’re waiting for you.”

Benton’s gray eyes rimmed with tears. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” He extended his fingers toward her. And for one brief instant, they touched before he was swept into the Light and Jillian was left in darkness.

Bringing her trembling hand to her lips, she sank once more to the ground. Tears welled in her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. He was gone. Gone. But the pain she felt was mingled with an odd sense of joy.

She finally understood what Amy had felt the night she’d sent their mother into the Light. She knew now. And in that clarity, all her fear, all her guilt, all her remorse left her body in an audible rush, leaving in its place understanding and love. Through the power of love, she had saved all those souls—all those lost souls. And through her own love and forgiveness, she had even released Harriet Cooke’s spirit into the Light. It was an oddly empowering feeling and Jillian’s whole body hummed with it.

She sniffed and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Her gaze swept the star-filled sky as she pushed herself up. Could Benton see her now? She felt as if he could, as if they could all watch over her from the Other Side.

A sudden clap of thunder shook the earth and a lightning bolt coursed to the ground right in front of Jillian, the force of it knocking her off her feet.

Heart thundering, Jillian blinked and there, where the lightning had struck, stood a man. Unbelieving, she gaped.

Jillian shot to her feet. “
Benton
?”

He stared.

“Benton?” Jillian was incredulous.

He looked at his hands and then raked his palms across the fabric of his uniform as if to see if it were real. And then he rushed into Jillian’s arms. He was completely solid, utterly hard—and absolutely alive.

Jillian clung to him, sobbing. “What happened? What happened?”

He tilted her head back. Joy filled his eyes as he searched hers. He burrowed his fingers into her hair. The breath left his lungs in a quick rush of air. He whooped and lifted her off her feet, spinning her in circles.

Jillian could scarcely believe it herself but here he was in her arms, a living, breathing man—alive!

Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer and closer, but Jillian did not leave Benton’s embrace. Instead, she clung to him. She had never known such joy. Such love. She wasn’t sure she understood it, but he was here and he was all hers. She searched his gaze. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“No, darlin’. You saved me.” He practically glowed. “Your love saved me and because of what you did, they let me come back to you.”

Their gazes clung for another heartbeat before his mouth descended on hers. He tore his lips away only to say, “Damn, I love you.”

Laughing, he lifted her off her feet and spun her around once more. And then he kissed her again.

Epilogue

Six months later

Jillian knew she shouldn’t have worn her brand-new pumps to this place but she had not wanted to go all the way home to change and risk missing this.

She clicked the key remote to lock the doors of her new black Jaguar, hoping it would be safe here, parked on the steep hill.

A dark flutter of remembrance passed through her when she saw the historical marker. The first time she’d come to Shy’s Hill, she hadn’t read it. Now, a little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she read the words raised in gleaming silver on the black metal marker. “Battle of Nashville. Shy’s Hill. On this hill was fought the decisive encounter of the Battle of Nashville, December 16, 1864. At 4:15 p.m., a Federal assault at the angle on the top of the hill broke the Confederate line. Colonel W. B. Shy and General T.B. Smith, 20th TN Infantry, were killed.”

“Not hardly,” she said aloud and then started the steep climb to the summit.

At the top of the hill, a historian dressed in the attire of a Confederate soldier was explaining the battle in lurid detail to a crowd of thoroughly enthralled high-school students.

One spectator stared, slack jawed. “Man, you make it sound like you were there.”

The dimple at the corner of Benton’s mouth deepened.

A sense of pride surged through Jillian. Benton had made quite a name for himself as an imminent historian of the Civil War, especially in Nashville. Already, the book he had written on the regiment he’d commanded one hundred fifty years ago was at the publisher just waiting to be printed and distributed. Unaware he had actually taken part in the war, the press had interviewed him on the subject countless times and he’d become somewhat of a celebrity.

Jillian’s gaze swept the students’ eager faces and then those of three female teachers who watched from the back of the group. They gaped openly at him, practically salivating.

And when Benton’s gaze collided with hers and hung there for a heartbeat, Jillian’s stomach tightened. She knew he was all hers and would always be.

“Any questions?” Benton’s commanding voice boomed over the kids.

Several hands shot into the air. He pointed at a freckle-faced boy. “Mr. Smith,” the boy’s voice squeaked. “Were you related to the General Smith who was killed here?”

“I guess you could say that,” Benton replied. “He was an ancestor of mine.”

“Way cool!”

He entertained a few more questions before the teachers herded the kids toward the stairs. Jillian heard the ladies commenting on Benton’s good looks as they filed past her on their way down the steep path.

Smiling, Jillian approached him. He opened his arms and drew her into a tight hug before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He shot a furtive glance toward the path. “Are all those kids gone?”

She nodded. “I didn’t see anyone else.”

“Good,” he said as he tilted her face up to his. His mouth brushed hers softly and then his tongue slid between her lips as he deepened the kiss until a wave a heat rushed up her spine. It was a kiss filled with such passion and power—and deep, deep love—that it left Jillian breathless when he finally drew back just far enough to look into her eyes.

His hands slid down her arms to her own, where he fingered her wedding band. “I love you, Jillian Smith.”

She gave him a broad smile. The past six months had gone by like a whirlwind. Creating an identity for Benton had not been as difficult as Jillian had thought—with Theo’s help.

At first, Theo had had qualms about connecting Jillian with document forgers but he said he’d turn his head—just this once. She and Benton had married as soon as they procured the proper papers and no one but Theo and Amy were the wiser.

Theo had adamantly refused to listen to any of the details, simply holding his hands up and saying, “There are some things you just don’t need to know.”

Amy hadn’t seemed all that surprised a ghost could come back to life, and she seemed happy enough for the couple. She had stopped giving psychic readings and Jillian knew a part of her would never recover from the horror of being buried alive. She’d sold her little house in West End and was planning to move south to Alabama where their stepbrother, Reed, lived. Jillian fervently hoped Amy would be able to find love and learn to trust a man, to share her life and find happiness the way she had with Benton.

In the last year, Jillian had closed her office and was now profiling criminals for various police departments on a national basis. Her dead-on accuracy and knack for being able to speak with the actual murdered victims had even prompted a national television network to consider basing a weekly drama on her casework.

They’d bought Benton’s boyhood home and had completely restored it, doing most of the work themselves—and Jillian had insisted on keeping the chair she’d found in the parlor on her first visit.