The Ghost Hunter (22 page)

No. She couldn’t be falling for a guy who was a murderer.

Ashley jumped from the mattress, using the bed as a buffer between them. Her mouth had gone dry, adrenaline and fear mixing through her body in a dizzying combination. “What did you say?”

Cristian paused for only a moment, but in his gaze, she saw the truth. “I killed him.” He looked away. “I didn’t put the sword through his chest, but it was my fault he died.”

She wasn’t sure if that was better or not. Instinct had said something was wrong between Cristian and
Devon
, but murder? God, no. Cristian…Cristian was a soldier… a warrior…a fucking Angel. He wouldn’t murder! He couldn’t!

“How?” Her voice was calm, the kind of calm voice you used when talking to a toddler throwing a tantrum. Or the kind of calm tone used when talking to an insane person holding a knife at your throat.

“He blamed me for his father’s death and…other things.”

Other things. She knew there had to be more to this story. The question was, did she trust Cristian to tell her the truth? Surely his version would be skewed. “Did you…did you kill his father?” A direct question and hopefully she’d get a direct answer.

He smiled fleetingly, a whisper of amusement that was gone as soon as it arrived. “No. Not exactly.”

Relief was sweet. She should feel relieved, shouldn’t she? So why was she waiting for the other shoe to drop? “Then what happened?”

He looked away, but not before she saw the guilt in his eyes. Such a strong man… his shoulders wide, those muscles pressed tightly to his clothing, yet at the moment he seemed vulnerable…lost, and for some odd reason, her heart ached for him. “My father killed his. In the process…Devon’s wife died.”

Confused, she shook her head. Devon was married? Why hadn’t he told her? “He had a wife? You can have parents? I mean, you can procreate and all that?”

He laughed softly, his gaze heating, or was that her imagination? Lord, she wished more than any other time she knew what the man was thinking.
 
“Aye. We can do almost everything that a human can.”

They could marry. They could have sex. They could have children. Why did that realization suddenly make her body heat? “And…your father killed his? But…but why?”

Cristian crossed his arms over his wide chest, his biceps bulging. “Greed. Jealousy. Hatred. Power. Yer typical reasons.”

 
She swallowed hard. “Yeah, typical.” If a person lived in a Shakespeare play.
 

Slowly, Cristian rubbed his knuckles against his jaw. He had scruff there, sexy dark scruff that said he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. “Yer boyfriend blamed me for his father’s death. He arrived, vendetta ready, sword drawn.”

She shook her head, dismissing his boyfriend comment. “Why not just tell him the truth? That your father was responsible?”

He shrugged and paced away from her. “He knew. But I was easier to blame and easier to kill.”

Startled, Ashley surged to her feet. No, Devon wouldn’t have tried to kill Cristian, would he? At least not the real Devon, not the Devon she knew. She had a feeling she had to take sides, and she still wasn’t sure whose side she was supposed to take. “And you couldn’t have walked away?”
 

He smiled, a sad smile that bespoke of too much knowledge, too much hardship and pain. Damn it all, she didn’t want to feel for him. “Ye can’t walk away from someone that determined, luv.”

Her stomach churned with the truth. “And so you killed him.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he looked away. “Not directly. I tried not tae fight him. But he became persistent. He… fell.” His gaze was vacant, as if he’d traveled back to that moment. How she wished she could see what he remembered.

“Did you even try to save him?”

His attention snapped back to her. “Of course I did.”

“I see.” The room settled into silence. She felt guilty as hell for doubting him, even as she wondered why she should believe him. There was no way to know if he spoke the truth. He’d kept things from her before, most likely still was. She closed her eyes, feeling sick, weak, faint. Only moments ago she had wanted to hold this man, comfort him.
 

“I need…to be alone.” Uneasy, she stood and made her way to the door, surprised he didn’t physically try to stop her.

“Ashley,” he called out.

She paused, but didn’t face him. She couldn’t look at him, too afraid she’d give in. Truth was her heart ached for the man. She couldn’t imagine carrying the guilt he’d had to carry. But at the same time she couldn’t let herself trust him. She couldn’t afford to trust anyone.

“Don’t leave the house, especially at night. Not without me.”

He cared about her. Damn it all. Annoyed that she found herself softening toward the man once more, she turned and faced him. “You said Devon was tarnished. What did you mean?”

He released a long breath. “When ye bring back the dead, ye have the chance of bringing back other things.”

She shook her head. “But we closed the portal.”

“True, but something might have clung tae him, could still cling tae him. It’s as if he’s become the vehicle from which they can act.”

Wonderful. Just freaking wonderful. But it proved what she’d determined all along, this wasn’t the real Devon. She leaned against the door jamb, her legs weak. “What things?”

“Like an evil parasite.”

 
“Demons?”

He nodded, shifting so his leg muscles flexed. His fine physique didn’t make her feel better. If anything, his strength made her feel worse. She didn’t know which supernatural being she could trust, but they all had superhuman strength. She was no match for any of them. She hated the fact that she had to rely on these two men, two men she didn’t dare trust.
  

And she sure as hell didn’t think she could handle one more evil thing residing in this house. “Are we safe here, with Devon?”

“I believe so, but ye might want to call on yer witch friends to find out what’s attached…so I won’t have to kill him…again.”

He wasn’t smiling, his eyes weren’t sparkling. He was serious. Her heart slammed wildly against her chest. Damn him for being such an ass. Damn her for liking him. She took a step back, then turned and without a word, left his room.

If she didn’t save Devon, she had no doubt Cristian would kill him. Nothing like the pressure of life and death to keep a person going. From down the hall she heard movement. Devon was apparently feeling better. She made her way toward the guest room where they’d set up a bed for Devon. Outside his door, she paused, taking in a deep breath. What would she find? Calm and rational Devon, or crazy and psychotic Devon?

Before she could make up her mind whether to enter or not, the door opened and he stood there, his shirt untucked, his blond hair disheveled. A dark bruise marred the area under his left eye, contrasting sharply with the blue in his gaze. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come in.”

“I wasn’t sure either.”

Apparently he could sense people as Cristian could. They stared at each other for one long moment, emotion sizzling between them…affection, worry, uncertainty…hell, she wasn’t sure what she felt.

“You’re okay?”

He nodded. Finally, he looked down, breaking the contact. “I don’t….I…”

Compassion urged her forward. She reached out and took his hand. His fingers were long, delicate and cold. An artist’s hands. Where as Cristian was brawn and muscle, Devon was lean and elegant, both beautiful in their own way and she wasn’t sure which she preferred. Not that she was looking.

“Come on.” She pulled him into the room. They settled on the bed, their hands still clasped together.

He looked at her, the pain and sorrow in his gaze tugging at her heart. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to hurt you.” He rubbed his fingers along her wrist where a purple bruise had formed.

Part of her felt horrible for him, the other half, the strong half that had been kicked around by people way too long, wanted to revolt at his apology…wanted to stand and leave the room, leave him. Hell, leave this country.
 

“Cristian explained why it’s happening,” she said, daring to mention the man’s name and watching Devon closely for any reaction.

Devon nodded slowly. There was no annoyance or anger when she said Cristian’s name, only confusion marred his blue eyes. How much did he remember?
 

She licked her suddenly dry lips, worried about how he’d react when he knew the full truth. “Devon, do you know what you are?”

He looked away, answering her question without a word.

Shock warred with hurt. “You do, don’t you?” She stood, pulling her hand from his. “How long have you known?”

“A couple days now.”

She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. How could he? How could he lie when he knew how dangerous her position was? “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He didn’t respond, merely continued to stare at the floor, stubbornly silent.

Her anger flared. She’d been right all along, she couldn’t trust anyone. “What do you remember? How much?”

“Everything,” he admitted.

Anger gave way to shock.
Everything?
Did he know what had happened with Cristian? Did he remember how he’d died? “You remember…everything?”

He nodded.

Her skin tightened, her breathing grew harsh. This couldn’t be good. Did he still blame Cristian? Would he try to retaliate?

“I won’t go after him…not now,” he said, as if reading her mind.

Relief made her knees weak, until the realization of his words hit. “What does that mean? Not now?”

He stood and paced across the small room that was really no more than a closet, but it had been clean and close to Ashley’s room, so Devon had insisted. The tall man made the room seem even smaller. “It means we have bigger problems than my vendetta.”

His words should have given her some sense of relief. They didn’t.
Not now
. So in other words, eventually. She pushed that thought aside. He was right, they had more important things to worry about.
 

“Cristian thinks something has clung to you. That you have a demonic parasite and it’s why you’re acting the way you are.”

“I see.” He took the news better than she would have. He had paused at the one small window, his back to her as he stared out onto the night sky.

Ashley stood, unsure how to proceed. This was so far out of her element. “Camile’s coming tomorrow evening. She’s found a spell that might protect you.”

He didn’t say anything, merely stood there looking so hopeless and desolate that she wanted to hug him. She closed her eyes briefly, resisting the urge. He wasn’t hers to comfort.
 

His fingers slipped around hers, and her eyes opened. He was standing next to her, his face so sincere, her heart twisted.

“Ashley, I didn’t mean…I didn’t want to hurt you. Please believe me.”

She nodded. “I know. It’s not you. Hopefully Camile can figure out what it is before…” But she didn’t need to finish that thought. They both knew what she was going to say…Before Devon killed her, or Cristian killed him.

“How are you?” Camile asked quietly as they moved around the large room that used to serve as the parlor. They’d decided to do the spell downstairs. Ashley didn’t need anymore portals in her bedroom, thank you very much.

“My hand? It’s fine. Practically healed.” Which was odd. Ashley flexed her fingers. Whatever had been in that salve Rose had made should have been bottled and sold to the highest bidder. She could barely see the cut Cristian had made.

“No, not that,” Camile said.

“What do you mean?” She held the lighter above the candle wick until the string glowed brightly.

Camile rested her hand on Ashley’s arm, a comforting touch. “My aunt told me what happened with
Devon
.”

Ashley shrugged, flushing. She’d never been comfortable discussing her emotions and Camile’s obvious worry only added to her unease.
 

“It’s not him.” She said the words, and of course she believed them. So why then, did she still feel a slight sense of outrage? She glanced over her shoulder.
Devon
sat on the floor, his back against the wall. As if sensing her attention, his gaze met hers.

She gave him a half-hearted smile, the most she could manage, then resumed her candle lighting duties before he could read the lingering confusion in her eyes.

Camile knelt on the floor and pulled her bag forward, shuffling through the contents. “Will Cristian help?”

Ashley laughed. “I doubt it. Tends to keep to himself.” She’d felt the need to knock on his door earlier, but hadn’t been surprised to see he’d left.

Camile stood and pulled the curtains together, blocking the moonlight from view and shrouding the room in darkness. “Rose wants me to leave.”

Ashley froze, shock holding her immobile. “What? Why?” She couldn’t lose Camile, not the one person she trusted.

“Because of the things that are coming. She says it won’t be safe. I heard about the vampire attack last night.”

“We killed them,” she rushed out to calm Camile’s fears, all the while knowing she was being selfish by wanting her to stay.

“Balls, I didn’t know any of this. I mean I thought some of the people around here were odd, and maybe there were a few witches, but vampires?” And Ashley knew this was one of the reasons why she felt so close to the young woman, because they’d both been left in the dark. “I never—”

“I know.” Ashley lit another candle, the scent of vanilla wafting into the air.

“So.” Camile glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still out of hearing range. “What did the vampire look like? All pointy?” She held up her fingers like fangs, her blue bracelet sliding down her arm.

“He was…pale.” They both laughed at that cliché answer.

But just as quickly, Ashley’s mirth fled as the memory invaded. “He looked possessed. Had these dark soulless eyes.” She shivered as his headless body flashed to mind. “Incredibly strong and incredibly hard to kill.”
 

“They’ve set up a perimeter, you know, around the village.”

Ashley shook her head, surprised and…what was that? Yes, a little touched. So they were finally listening to reason. She admitted the words made her feel slightly better. But how far would they go to help? Would they hold the perimeter if things got ugly? Would they risk their lives? “They’re trying to keep the things out? The evil beings that are attracted to this place?”

Camile nodded. “Rose said it was about time they got off their arses and remembered what they were. Apparently, they’ve had it so easy here for years, just blending in, pretending to be normal. It’s why they all came together and settled. They thought they could be normal.”

But they weren’t normal and neither was Ashley. It was still hard to believe this was happening, that the town was made up of paranormal beings. Even harder to believe they were actually going to help. As much as she wanted their input, at the same time she worried someone would get hurt. She’d feel responsible. It was her house, so her demon.
 

“Are you about ready?” Devon asked from directly behind her.

He’d come upon them so silently that they both spun around with a start.

He smiled, stepping back. “I apologize. But we should do this now, before….”

Before he started acting psycho again. He didn’t need to finish that sentence. She nodded. Reluctantly, she followed Camile and Devon to the middle of the room. They sat on the wooden floor, forming a triangle. Even though she wore a tank top and shorts and the night weather was cool, sweat beaded between Ashley’s shoulder blades.

“Take hands,” Camile said softly. “Rose has formed a protective orb around the house, binding the outside so nothing can get in.”

And nothing could get out. Ashley slipped her right hand into Camile’s, her left into Devon’s. Her mouth had gone dry, her body trembling with pent up fear and anxiety. When would this all be over? She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“Our father who art in heaven,” Camile whispered the words Cristian had said just the other day. She picked up a bottle and sprinkled a fine, yellow powder into her silver bowl. “Rid this man of any evil.” She lifted another bottle and added a few blue crystals. “Negativity is gone, darkness is banished from this man, this home.”

A soft murmur of awareness shimmered through Ashley’s body. Had she imagined the sensation of the air shifting? Ashley peeked through her lashes. Devon was frowning. Why, she wasn’t sure. Did he feel the shift too?

Camile took her hand again, drawing Ashley’s attention back to her. “In the name of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, we banish you from this man.” She started humming in a language Ashley didn’t understand, a soft hum that vibrated through the room and oddly, put her at ease.

Moments later, the murmur faded and silence settled, heavy and watchful. Camile and Devon had their eyes closed and Ashley contemplated closing hers, but was too damn curious. Besides, if she would have closed them, she wouldn’t have noticed Devon when his eyes suddenly popped open wide.

Her heart leapt into her throat. “Devon, what is it?”
 

Camile snapped her attention toward him.

He was breathing harshly and his face had flushed, but he managed a nod. Ashley’s body prickled, the fine hair rising on her arms. Her sixth sense was rearing it’s ugly head.

“I feel…odd,” he whispered.
 

Their hands broke away, fear and nerves churning in her stomach. “What is it Devon?”

For one long, breathless moment, he merely sat there. Finally, he unfolded his body, standing. As he loomed over them, his brilliant blue gaze traveled the small group. There was an odd sense of euphoria that surrounded his aura, as if he’d regained energy and strength. Had it worked?
 

Eager for answers, Ashley scrambled to her feet, followed by Camile. “What is it?”

He focused on her and grinned, but she couldn’t see his eyes, the room was too dark, and for some reason she needed to see his eyes. “It worked,” he proclaimed. “I feel light. So free.”

Camile smiled, but it quivered on her lips as if unsure if it should be there. “Really? I’ve never done one before, but Rose said it could get intense and to call her if I needed help.”

He shook his head, his smile widening, a smile that showed his bewilderment as much as his excitement. A brilliant smile that she’d never seen on his serious face before and it left Ashley bemused.

“You’re powerful. Amazing.” Devon went to Camile, his arms outstretched.

Ashley frowned, a whispered warning worming its way inside her gut. A prim Victorian when he’d died, she’d never seen Devon so touchy-feely. For some reason, it didn’t feel right. He pulled Camile into a bear hug that sent warning bells ringing through Ashley’s head.

“I owe you my life,” Devon whispered.

The overly dramatic moment left her more than suspicious. It was all too easy. Fear sank it’s vampire teeth into her body.
  

“Well.” Camile patted his back, sending Ashley a nervous glance. She was just as confused by Devon’s sudden change. “Really, it was nothing.”

“Without you,” Devon pulled back, his hands clasping Camile’s upper arms. Ashley couldn’t see his face from where she stood. She inched toward them, eager to read his expression. “Well, without you, I wouldn’t realize how easy my job is going to be.”

Ashley froze. The fine hairs on her body stood on end. Something wasn’t right. She should have listened to her instincts from the beginning.
 

Camile frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t…I…”

“Get away from her.” Adrenaline and fear mixed in a lethal combination, surging through her veins.

Devon faced Ashley, his arm thrown around Camile’s shoulders in a familiar way. His expression was passive, completely calm but it wasn’t him, Ashley realized. There was something not quite right…a darkness to his gaze.

“Why,” he said. “I’m merely showing her my gratitude.”

Camile’s gaze flickered with unease, but Ashley still wasn’t sure what they were up against and feared if she made a move now, she would only regret her decision later. Damn it, the one time she wished Cristian was near and the jerk had disappeared.

“Get away from her,” Ashley repeated calmly.
 

“Fine,” Devon said. Before she could guess his intentions, he shoved Camile. She flew across the room as if she weighed nothing and slammed into the wall.

“Camile!” Ashley’s feet thundered against the floor planks. She barely paused as she dropped to her knees and slid to a stop next to her friend. “Are you all right?”

Camile nodded, but her eyes were dazed, unsure. Ashley’s fear pulsed a steady beat under her skin. Camile didn’t look all right at all. In fact, she looked ready to faint. She slipped her arm around her friend’s waist and helped her to her feet.

“Devon?” she whispered, facing him.

He wasn’t smiling, more like smirking. This wasn’t her Devon. This man seemed even bigger, stronger somehow. Her heart tripped in her chest, the desire to run warring with the need to contain this mad man.

“He’s not Devon,” Camile confirmed in a weak voice. “The exorcism didn’t work. The thing’s still there, only now, he’s on the surface.”

But Ashley still didn’t want to believe that Devon couldn’t control this beast. He was there, deep down, she knew it. If only he could find a way to regain power. She believed in Devon, she had to.

Devon clapped his hands in applause, all the while chuckling. “So right. So right. I’ve come out to play, my friends.” He paced to the windows and held his arms wide, his t-shirt stretching across his broad back. “Ah, to be free.”

Anger shot through her body, an irrational urge to throw herself, claws extended, at the man. “Who are you?” she asked and immediately regretted her outburst when he turned to face her.

He looked her up and down in a way that sent chills to her bones. “You’re the owner. The lovely woman who has confused my host body so. He fights for you, you know. To be good, to resist me. He wiggles, writhing deep inside me like a maggot.”

Her heart lurched with hope. She’d been right. Devon was there and he could defeat this thing if he tried. “Devon?” Ashley pushed away from Camile, leaving her safely behind.

“Yes, he’s still here,” the demon said, as if reading her thoughts. “He’s just…stepped aside for the moment.”

“Been forced aside,” Camile muttered from behind Ashley.

“Who are you?” Ashley repeated her question, mostly to draw his attention back to her and away from Camile, who still looked a bit dazed.

It worked. He started toward her, his feet thumping through the space in time with her heart beat. Ashley held her ground in the middle of the room. It took all her courage not to run.

“I, my dear, am the thing in your basement. That thing that keeps you up at night. That thing that enters your dreams, pretends to be your dad and cries out to you.
Help me, Ashley, help me!
” He threw his head back and laughed.

Anger fought with fear. Unwanted tears burned her eyes. She’d heard the voice in her nightmares, the voice of her father. A voice that had kept her here, when all she’d wanted to do was return home. But it hadn’t been Dad calling to her, it’d been this demon. A demon who somehow knew her weakness.

“You’re saying you’ve escaped?” she asked in a voice much more serene than she’d expected.

He stopped only inches from her, so close she could feel the chill of his breath. Her legs trembled, but she refused to back down. He looked so much like Devon… sweet, honorable Devon. Sounded so much like Devon. He was there, underneath it all. Her fingers curled as she resisted the urge to reach out to him, to beg him to stop this madness.

He sighed, looking thoughtful. “Unfortunately, no. I haven’t escaped. But some of my essence has escaped. Enough to control this pathetic sod.” He leaned closer to her and drew a cold finger down the side of her face.

She jerked back. “Don’t touch me.”

He smiled. “I can’t really do much until I get my body back. But I will. I promise ye that.” He turned, his back to Ashley. “But, still I can have some fun with his powers.”