Mystically Bound (Frostbite, Book Three) (6 page)

“Hi, you.”

The obvious happiness in his voice warmed me.
Our friendship had developed under insane circumstances, since he
was Kipp’s partner, but regardless, I loved Zach and I knew he
loved me back.

“How’s Louisiana?” he asked.

I snorted. “Stir-shit-crazy.”

His pause was long and slightly awkward.
“Crazy, how?”

I sympathized with the tension radiating off
his voice. No one wanted
more
trouble, especially me. “Well,
from what I’ve seen, the Animus is real and they can help me with
Kipp, but…”

There, I began explaining the insanity I now
found myself in. I didn’t leave a single detail out, nor did I
downplay the weirdness with Alexander. Odd in part only a short
time ago, no one but my best friend, Caley, knew about my gifts. I
wouldn’t have dared shared these happenings before, in fear of
total humiliation. Now, considering all Zach and I had been
through, the events passed easily from my mouth.

When I finished, Zach paused again before he
cleared his throat. “You have no idea who killed Alexander? Or if
this person is in the house with you?”

Only confirming how normal ghost-talk was
now, since Zach didn’t even fumble, going right into cop mode.
“Yeah, well, it’s not an ideal situation.”

He laughed, unamused. “Ideal?”

I rubbed at my tired eyes, then lowered my
hand and admitted, “Okay, it downright blows. Is that better?”

“Much.” His long exhale crackled through the
phone line before his voice firmed. “Do you think you’re in any
danger?”

I nibbled my lip, staring at the abstract art
on the wall that, for the life of me, I couldn’t make out—was it a
tree, bush…maybe a person. “I hope not. Is that a good answer?”

“No. It isn’t,” he grumbled, and after a
short pause, he continued, “But you’re right—it doesn’t sound like
anyone there has a motive to kill someone they loved and
respected.”

A squeal suddenly erupted before Zach’s curse
echoed in the phone followed by a loud scuffle. Then Caley snapped,
“What are you doing? A killer could be there. Oh, my God, Tess, get
your ass home—”

I clicked the end button and powered off my
phone. Not to say I didn’t want to talk to Caley, I did miss her,
but the conversation would be long and annoying. I would have to
defend my reasons for staying in White Castle, which I doubted
she’d understand. Caley had never been one to see my side of
things. She would focus on the possible danger, and nothing else.
Zach would calm her down, which he seemed to have mastered since
they started dating. Besides, I had another important conversation
to deal with, and Caley would be relentless with non-stop calling
until I answered.

I shoved my cell phone back into my pocket
and hurried through the doorway into the sitting room. First, I
spotted the large bookshelf at the back of the room, then I
wrinkled my nose at the scent of mothballs in the air. But I
instantly shoved away the grossness, because the sight of the books
made me wonder if this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

Glancing at Gretchen, who sat in one of the
wingback wooden chairs in the corner of the room, I gestured toward
the books. She shook her head with flat eyes, indicating nothing
came that easily.

Figures!

On a huff, I strode forward and dropped onto
the hard-as-rock antique couch beneath the large window. I crossed
my legs and watched as Wayde left his place by the oak desk and
approached the bookshelf. He clearly knew what he wanted to find
since he didn’t hesitate in taking a book off the shelf.

Holding onto a brown leather book, he turned
to me with the same dark twinkle in his eyes. He opened the cover
and flipped a few pages. After he found whatever he looked for, his
eyes rose to mine again, and then he handed me the book and pointed
to a picture of a woman. “Her.”

I glanced at the page and stared at a young
woman, who looked around my age of twenty-five, and by her pretty
lace dress and cloche hat, appeared to be from the 1920s. Her hair
was blonde, even though I only took guesses since the picture was
black and white. She didn’t smile in the photo, and in fact, looked
grumpy as hell with deep frown lines around her mouth. When staring
at the picture got me nowhere, I finally looked up at Wayde. “Who
is this, and why should I care?”

“She’s you.”

I couldn’t even find it within myself to roll
my eyes. If he started talking about reincarnation, I would flatten
him. I might believe in witchcraft and demons. I also had no doubt
this world had many more surprises. But I wouldn’t go any deeper
than I’d already gone. I had enough on my plate without filling my
brain with more crazy-ass knowledge. “This is
not
me.”

“Not
you
,” Wayde said with slow
precision. “But that is Nettie Glasgow. Her talents matched your
own.”

I blinked, processed, and blinked again.

Could that be true?

Looking at the picture again, I studied
Nettie. After meeting Dane, it had been a relief to meet someone
who had supernatural gifts. It did make me feel not as alone in the
world, even if I wanted to castrate Dane. But hearing that someone
held the
exact
gifts I did…Yeah, it warmed that piece of
detachment I felt from others. “Nettie had the same abilities I
do?”

“She did,” Wayde replied.

While that interested me, I wasn’t clear on
how this could help me. Wayde had stated that this knowledge would
be how I’d go into the Netherworld, or implied it. “And this
matters because…?”

Lifting my gaze, I discovered his dark smile.
“Luckily for you, she wasn’t as closed off to her abilities as you
are. Yes, you both hold the same gifts, but she was far more
educated.”

I snorted at the once again stab. Did he—as
well as Dane, since he had done the same thing to me in
Memphis—need to remind me I sucked at this? I didn’t need the
reminder. I’d accepted that I didn’t know much about the mystical
world with the whole demon event.

Hell, I preferred it that way. Until Kipp, I
didn’t want to help ghosts for that very reason. I don’t do scary.
I don’t want to learn about the freaky things that go bump in the
night. If I had known helping ghosts would’ve led to a demon, not
even Kipp and his sexy ways could have persuaded me to get
involved.

I simply wanted to help ghosts cross over,
that’s it, that’s all. Did I even care to know about Nettie and how
much better she was at this ghost business than me?

Turning to Gretchen, who sat silent in her
chair, I noticed her impassive expression. Indication enough this
was my life, and to find any sane level of normalcy again, I needed
to suck it up and get every piece of knowledge I could.

With that crappy realization, I looked at
Wayde as he towered over me. “Again, interesting, but how will this
help me?”

Wayde smiled. It didn’t bring warmth to his
face. “Nettie studied her craft and the knowledge you need, she
obtained. Everything you need to know about
your
gifts and
what you can do, the history of Nettie can answer.”

I blinked, totally not expecting that
.
Perhaps I thought hearing of Nettie would bring me to a greater
awareness of mystical things. But no, I did not expect him to imply
that Nettie held all the answers. “What will her history show me?”
He shifted on his feet, folding his arms. “That, in regard to
Netherworld, you don’t need witchcraft. You simply need to realize
the powers you hold and discover what you can do with them.”

I glanced sideways at Gretchen and she
watched Wayde with a curious look before she shrugged at me. I
nodded at her in agreement. This was confusing. Then I looked at
Wayde. “I didn’t realize I could do more with my powers than I’m
already doing.”

“Which confirms what I have already told
you.” He frowned, shaking his head in frustration. “If you
investigated more, kept your eyes open to the world around you, and
welcomed the gifts you’ve been given, you’d be more aware than you
are.”

While a nasty retort of,
so and your point
is
, hung on my tongue, I couldn’t deny truth behind his words.
Dane and Gretchen had taught me more in the days I’d known them
than I had figured out on my own in the years since the car
accident that caused my gifts.

True enough, I had only learned these tidbits
of information, such as the power to force ghosts away, because I
was motivated. I needed to solve the cold case of Lizbeth Knapp,
which led to a demon and furthered my knowledge with witchcraft and
all that magical hoopla. The difference was, I truly didn’t want to
know anymore, but my hand had been forced.

Sure, I accepted my path with the Memphis
Police Department to solve cold cases, but it stopped there. If I
didn’t need any of this information to find Kipp, I wouldn’t dig
deeper. With that, in this very moment, I knew Wayde was right.

He was about to take all I knew and
somersault the shit out of it.

I stared into Wayde’s dark eyes and lifted my chin,
ready for the revelation I suspected would shock me. But deep down,
I’d welcome being stunned stupid a thousand times over if it
brought me closer to Kipp. “All right, so you’re telling me I have
more gifts than I realize?”

Wayde took a seat across from me in the other
wingback chair in the room, and crossed an ankle over his knee.
“You hold the key to the veil.”

After inhaling a long breath, the musky scent
in the room had me rubbing my nose. “Why can’t things be simple and
explained in terms that we
normal
folk understand?”

Gretchen laughed.

Wayde didn’t; he folded his arms like a big
ole’ grump. “Your connection to the Netherworld is your gift. It’s
not seeing the dead, or conversing with them; it’s that connection
that fuels your power.”

Shifting on the couch, I leaned against the
wooden back, more than uncomfortable. Not only from the hard
cushion, but also the subject matter. “My gifts are fueled by the
Netherworld?” Even as I said it, it seemed absurd. “How do you know
this about me?”

He picked lint off his pants. “A long time
ago, I heard of Nettie and her unique talents. When Gretchen told
me about you, your gifts sounded similar.” His head lifted, eyes
flat. “After researching Nettie again, I realized your gifts are
exactly the same. Meaning, you have access to the Netherworld that
neither I, nor anyone else I know, possesses.” He gestured toward
the book. “It’s the same connection Nettie had—a power giving you
the right to journey through the veil and cross into the
Netherworld.”

I settled the book on my lap and absorbed
that bit of insanity. “Are you suggesting I only have to tell
myself to go there?”

He nodded. “Your connection to the
Netherworld allows you to see and do the things you can. It’s how
Nettie did the same thing.”

I gawked at Gretchen in slight horror. Even
though Dane had told me I held a connection to the Netherworld, he
never explained it in such depth that Wayde just had. From the way
I heard it, I accepted my death when I crossed into the
Netherworld—something I still didn’t entirely believe—but that my
life was saved before I fully crossed over. Which meant I took a
part of the Netherworld with me, which explained why I held the
gifts I did. I wasn’t sure I liked that my connection to the
mystical world ran as deep as Wayde suggested.

Gretchen finally shrugged at me, a little
wide-eyed and unable to sit still in her seat. Her worry and
silence unnerved me, forcing me to take a harder look into Wayde’s
explanation for a logical reason to deny it. After I mulled it over
a moment, a big flaw appeared in Wayde’s theory.

Turning to him, I pointed out the obvious.
“While this is interesting and all, I hate to break it to you, but
I don’t feel any different than I did before the accident. Wouldn’t
I feel
something
if I held such a strong connection to the
Netherworld? So, whatever power this is you’re talking about, I
don’t have it.”

He stretched his legs, and the antique chair
squeaked beneath him. “You must, or you wouldn’t be able to see
ghosts. It’s there, I simply doubt you understand it, and have been
blind to it, which is exactly what I told you before. You’ve shut
down and closed your eyes to what is right in front of you. If you
paid more attention, then I suspect you’d sense it.”

I frowned. “The only thing I sense when
ghosts are around me is a goose bump type of feeling, that’s it,
nothing any other time.”

Wayde arched an eyebrow. “I do not get goose
bumps when ghosts come around.”

His admission stole the wind out of my lungs.
Wayde was a medium and it surprised me he didn’t experience the
creepy feeling. To Gretchen I asked, “Do you not feel anything like
that?”

She shook her head, standing from her seat.
“My body is not physically affected when a ghost is near, but more
so emotionally.” She strode toward the far window. “If a ghost is
angry, I’ll feel angry, which is how I understand what they’re
feeling.”

I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. Dane
had said as much himself. I’d seen it with my own eyes. He always
seemed to know when Kipp was pissed or experienced a strong
emotion. So, that made sense. Still, I hadn’t realized my goose
bumps were out of the ordinary.

Gretchen stared out the window into the dark
night, arms folded, then turned to me. “I can usually tap into any
powerful emotion coming off a ghost and sometimes the space where
the ghost is looks almost like a heat wave—like a shift in
energy—but I’ve never had goose bumps from it, or a creepy
sensation.” She cocked her head, watching me carefully. “Does that
happen every time?”

I nodded slowly.

Before I could answer, Wayde interjected,
“The goose bumps are because you’re sensing the beyond. It’s not
the ghost itself; it’s the sensation of being back in the
Netherworld. Your body is remembering the time. Are you able to
feel their touch?”