The Ghosts of Cragera Bay (12 page)

For the love of God, what was wrong with his sisters? Brynn living with some fake psychic and Eleri engaged to a man who’d published terrible stories about her. If either of those guys had tried to date Katie, Declan would have strung him up by the balls.

That was Katie, though. These other two sisters were nothing to him, strangers. He could pass them on the street and never know who they are. They—and their terrible taste in men—were not his problem.

“How long are we going to do this for?” he asked.

The light from her smart phone cut the darkness while she checked the screen. “It hasn’t even been an hour.”

It felt like five. “How long?”

Her phone went dark and blackness descended again.

“Until something happens,” she said.

He stood, restless and needing to move. “What if nothing happens?”

“Then nothing happens. Sit down before you trip on something in the dark.”

He sighed and flopped down on the bed beside her.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“Isn’t there a part of you that might be tempted to stay here—if it didn’t have all the history and haunt activity?”

He chuckled. The only part of this trip he’d be sorry to leave behind would be her. “Even if I wanted to stay, I wouldn’t. I have family back in Seattle, and since my mother died, they need me. My brother, Josh is going through a phase. He’s twenty-two and an idiot. My stepfather can’t handle him on his own right now.”

“How long has your brother been going through his phase?”

“Twenty-one years.”

A bubble of laughter burst from her lips, making him smile. “You must be close with your family.”

“Sometimes too close. Aren’t you close to yours?”

“I love them.” He could hear the frown in her voice. “But we just don’t connect. Whenever I see them all they ask me about is when will I get married? I’m a pretty girl, I shouldn’t have trouble meeting a nice man.”

“And when will you be getting married?”

She snorted. “The fifth of never. Do you know the odds of actually maintaining a successful marriage?”

“Um…no.”

“Slim. More than half of marriages end in divorce, and I would bet a quarter of the ones left are actually happy.”

The bitterness in her voice caught him by surprise. He took her hand in his. “That’s pretty cynical.”

“It’s reality. Believe me, I grew up with it. Those same two people who want me to settle down and get married barely speak five complete sentences to each other in a day.”

“My mother and Allen were happy.” His mother had been Allen’s rock, and now his stepfather was bereft. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“They must be part of the one quarter.”

“Or maybe the statistics are better than you think.” He lifted his free hand, brushed his fingers over her cheek, her skin like warm silk under his touch.

“Declan?” His name, low and throaty on her lips, warmed his blood.

“Yes.” He trailed his fingers over her jaw, down the slender column of her neck.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m touching you, then I’m going to kiss you.” Her throat jumped under his fingertips. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

* * *

Carly’s heart thudded against her chest, warmth leaching out into her limbs. What was she doing? Making a huge mistake probably, but just then she didn’t give a damn. His fingers traced her collarbone and a delicious shiver whispered over her skin. Her nipples hardened.

He leaned in and caught her mouth with his, but rather than push him back, Carly wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips, giving his tongue access. He tasted faintly of mint. His hand on her back pushed her breasts against his chest, and a steady throb beat at her core.

His mouth, those clever hungry lips, grew harder, more demanding. A gnawing hunger built inside her, leaving her skin hot and itchy beneath her clothes.

She wanted them gone, peeled away so she could feel him against her. Flesh against flesh. Skin against skin. She wanted to trail her fingers over his body, explore every ridge, every plane.

Her hand curled into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, ready to drag it over his head, when he tore his mouth from hers, leaving her lips tingling and breath coming fast.

“Do you smell that?” he whispered.

Smell what? All she could smell was pine and…something rotted. She stiffened in his arms. “Something’s happening.”

“I know.” He stood slowly, gaze darting from one end of the dark room to the other. “It’s here.”

The stink of rot thickened in the air, putrid, sour, filling her nasal passages, her throat until she thought she’d gag.

A hulking figure materialized at the far end of the room black and opaque, darker than the darkness surrounding them. Furious delight radiated from its form. Everything inside her turned loose and cold.

A thick gurgling filled the room. Where its face should have been there was only darkness and two glowing red eyes. She’d never seen anything like it, but worse was the fear it emitted, the bleak revulsion coursing inside her.

The thing shifted, ambling closer to Declan. On instinct, she reached for the light switch—she didn’t want that thing any closer to him than it was—but she squeezed her hand into a fist and forced her arm to her side.

They were here for a reason.

Carly turned and snatched up one of the video cameras, then eased closer to Declan to get a better shot.

“Now what?” Declan asked, voice thick.

She swallowed hard, struggling against her swelling anxiety. “Try to engage with it. Talk to it.”

“Are you out of your mind? What am I supposed to say to it?”

“Ask it anything? Maybe we’ll pick up on the EVP.”

Declan muttered an unintelligible curse, then said, “Why are you here? What do you want?”

If it understood Declan, it gave no indication. The gurgling, choking continued uninterrupted as it shimmied closer to them. With every step, hate exuding from its form strengthened, intensifying the terror building inside Carly.

“What are you?” Declan muttered. Then to Carly, “We need the lights.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Yes.”

She reached for the lamp nearest them on the small desk by the window. She wasn’t convinced her rubbery legs could carry her to the switch on the wall without giving out. Her fingers moved blindly over the smooth porcelain until they found the knob. She twisted it and the lamp flickered for an instant before the bulb exploded. Tiny glass fragments showered her hand before she could jerk back.

Muted popping filled the room followed by the tinkling of glass hitting the floor—the bulbs in all the lamps bursting. She needed to switch on the chandelier. She took a step toward the far wall, but Declan’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The lights exploded overhead as he jerked her against his chest. Glass shards rained down over them, and Declan covered her head with his arms, held her tight against his chest.

No light. No way to chase away the thing before them.

Once the glass stopped falling, she eased back and met the red glare fixed on them. The shadow had stopped moving and stood just three feet away. Rage and hate oozed from its mass, building, gathering like an electrical charge, a storm on the brink of tearing loose. The fine hairs on her arms stood at attention as if the room were charged with static electricity.

Panic built inside her.

“We have to get out of here,” she whispered.

“Run,” Declan said, pushing her back from him toward the door. “It doesn’t want you.”

Her fingers grasped his shirt. “You come, too.”

Before he could argue, a huge boom rocked the house as if someone had set off a bomb.

Chapter Ten

The room shook, walls, floors, nearly knocking Carly on her backside. Only her grip on Declan’s shirt kept her upright. Then nothing. Silence fell, heavy and unnatural. When she looked up, the shadow had gone. Even the stink was dissipating.

She let out the breath she’d been holding on a shuddery sigh.

“Is it gone?” Declan asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She swallowed hard—her thundering heart still lodged in her throat. “I think so.”

As if to mock her, loud crashes rocked the house once more, like a giant’s footsteps running from one end of Stonecliff to the other. Doors slammed. Glass shattered. Something was tearing the house apart.

The two-way radio on her belt hissed before Andy’s panicked voice came through the speaker. “I don’t know what’s happening where you are, but all hell is breaking loose down here.”

She held the speaker to her mouth. “Here, too.”

“I’ve lost connection—” Andy let out an airy oomph and the radio went silent, and so did the rest of the house.

“Shit,” she whispered. “We have to get down there.”

“Stay close to me,” Declan said. She nodded and laced her fingers with his.

Using the flashlight app on her mobile, she guided them down the maze of hallways. Glass crunched beneath their shoes. The sconces mounted on the wall had shattered. Tables and cabinets once pushed against the walls had all been tipped forward into the hall. She and Declan had to right them before they could continue down the narrow passage.

What if something had happened to Andy? Her stomach sank to her shoes. She’d dragged him into this. If he’d been hurt… Thank God, Declan had refused to let her bring in a group. Whatever force had just rolled through Stonecliff, she’d never experienced anything like it.

“I don’t think it’s as bad down here,” Declan said, as they rushed down the stairs.

He was right. There was no glass under their feet; the furniture in the foyer was still intact, positioned as it had always been. Maybe Andy was fine.

Declan shoved open the parlor door. The chandelier glowed softly, but the tiny flicker of relief in her chest snuffed out. Bits of broken laptop scattered the floor. The table Andy had set up his equipment on had been upended.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth, heart slamming against her chest.

“Something bloody hit me.”

Andy’s voice dragged her attention from the carnage of computer equipment to the man himself standing before a mirror mounted on the wall at the far side of the room.

“Knocked me on my ass, too. Look at this.” He turned and gestured to a red welt darkening on his cheek. “I’ll have a shiner come morning.”

He was right. Whatever had slammed into him had left one hell of a mark.

“Are you all right?” Declan asked, his features dark and brooding, but otherwise revealing nothing about what was going on inside his head. Did he blame her for all this? Was he right to? Had her investigation, her presence in Stonecliff agitated the shadow? In all her witness interviews none had described activity like they’d just experienced.

“I think you’re right,” Declan said, jerking her from her thoughts. His face was stony, unreadable. “It’s getting stronger. I’m going up to check on Warlow.”

Her insides squeezed.

“Wait.” She grabbed his sleeve. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone to go anywhere alone.”

He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Whatever was here is finished. At least for now.”

Declan was right. She could feel it, too. All that gathering energy, the faint hum against her skin like the air before a storm, had gone. The house had gone quiet as if all that spent rage had exhausted it.

“We’ll start tidying this, then.”

Declan nodded and hurried from the room, while Carly bent down and started to pick up the plastic shards from the rug. Her muscles felt soft and shaky, the same feeling she’d had once when she narrowly missed a terrible traffic collision.

She’d never experienced activity like this at any other haunt location. Any sense of control over this investigation was slipping through her fingers, leaving her spinning wildly with no idea how to ground herself again.

“I should go try to find a bin bag,” she muttered, setting the pieces on an end table next to the settee.

“What in the hell are you doing, Carly?” Andy growled.

She straightened, frowning in confusion. “I’m tidying the mess. It wouldn’t be fair to just leave him to do it alone.”

“I meant what the hell were you doing making out with Meyers. I saw you on the monitor just before the bloody house exploded.”

Her face burned. Oh, God, how could she have forgotten he’d been watching?

“I followed you into this mess, walked a very fine line between right and wrong because I believed in the work, and now you’re messing around with the man. If anyone ever found out, you’d lose all credibility. And so would I.”

“I’m not messing around with him. We kissed, that’s all.” But she hadn’t wanted to end with a kiss, not then. And not now.

“Have you lost any sense of objectivity? It’s not bad enough we trespassed on the man’s property, you wheeled and dealed to get him to let us investigate, now you’ve got your tongue in his mouth? You’re supposed to be a professional.”

“I am a professional,” she snapped. Though every word out of his mouth pricked her conscience like tiny, hot darts. “Whatever happened between Declan and I on a personal level has no bearing on this investigation. I’m a grown up, quite capable of maintaining my objectivity.” If not control over her hormones.

“Well, that’s good, then. You should put that in the foreword of your dissertation.” Sarcasm dripped from his every word. “Tell me something, did you start messing about with him so he’d let us back tonight after yesterday’s fiasco?”

Molten fury flooded her blood. Every ounce of self-control went into forcing her arms to her sides and keeping her fist from connecting with his face. “Are you asking if I’m some sort of haunt-location prostitute?”

“No,” Andy said, suddenly sounding as tired as she felt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but this place is huge. What’s happened here is amazing, think of what we’ve seen, what we’ve documented. We can’t risk our actions being called into question or our work could be discredited.”

“Let’s just clean this mess up. After tonight, who knows if Declan will even let us come back?”

“You’re not saying nothing’s going to happen with Meyers,” Andy said, scowling.