Ghostly Possession

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Ghostly Possession

Ghostly Possession By Teresa Wayne

Teresa Wayne

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Ghostly Possession

Teresa Wayne

A Silk’s Vault Electronic Publication, in arrangement with author Teresa Wayne. Copyright © 2006 by Teresa Wayne Cover Design and Art by Teresa Wayne, © Copyright 2006 Edited by Wendi Felter-Gabbidon

Silk’ Silk’s Vault Publishing www.silksvault.com

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in part or whole, in any form or by any means, without permission from both the author and publisher. All characters, incidents, situations, institutions, governments and people are fictional and any similarity to characters or persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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Prologue

Darkness was all around her! She stood there shaking, blindfolded with her hands tied above her head. Those were the only sensations surrounding her as she regained consciousness. The prevailing sense of helplessness was overpowering, the silence deafening. What’s going on? Where am I? Who’s there? Maybe it was all in her mind; the bed, the bindings, everything... A dream, or some kind of scary nightmare, which was it? Maybe it is all a dream. She clung to that thought as minutes, which felt like hours, passed. Something soft glided against her inner thigh and she sucked in a harsh breath. “Who’s there?” she begged. No one answered. An object -- what kind, she didn’t know -- began to tease her, ever so softly, caressing her thighs; first one, then the other. Back and forth in a slow, sensual rhythm that only seemed to tease her more. All of a sudden, the torment of seduction stopped. All remained silent. Fear, desperation, anxiety began creeping into her thoughts, along with unexpected and unwelcome arousal. She moaned as something warm and moist danced across her exposed nipple. The soft touches against her thighs and the grazing of her nipple stirred her lust, even as her mind tried to fight it. “Listen, whoever is there, you don’t have to tie me up. Hello? Please say something. Anything…” The pressure of soft, gentle hands on her body became her answer. Starting at her shoulders, those hands slowly slid to her breasts, outlining them before moving to her stomach, caressing her belly, creating sensual torture. She became wet, her nipples hardened, and her breathing erratic. Despite her natural instinct to take charge, to demand her independence, her body controlled her; a slave to the hands that touched her so intimately. As quickly as they started, the hands suddenly stopped. Oh, God, no. Don’t stop. She felt ashamed of the begging she did in her mind. But her body burned like fire, alive with desire. Her skin, supersensitive now, was sensitive to the slightest wisp of a breeze or even a touch. She could smell the aroma of her own lust. Something warm and moist slid across the lips of her vagina, a tongue from the feel of it. Writhing sensuously through her moist folds, the tongue drove her desire. Crying out, her hips lifted on their own accord, inviting, begging this unseen lover to satisfy her. In answer to the frantic pleas of her body, the bed shook as the unknown lover moved on top of her. Even as she felt herself open to him, she felt him enter her; she thrashed from side to side, pulling at the bindings, rubbing her wrists and ankles raw. Unable to escape! Her mysterious sexual perpetrator began plunging faster inside her, moving deeper. Suddenly, she felt a warm, wet mouth suck at her nipple. Lightly at first then harder as the tempo of his thrusts increased. She moaned as her lust built, her pelvis lifting in

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unison with her captor’s motions. She was beyond coherence. Now she was begging, pleading for fulfillment. She was gasping, her hot breath trapped in her throat. Gasps became screams as her orgasm erupted through her. She climaxed repeatedly. Tears were soaking her blindfold before plunging into a deep sleep. *** The warmth and brightness of the late morning sun awoke Sydney Yearling. With a groan, she rolled over to avoid the glare. Her eyelids fluttered and snapped open as her mind recalled the flashbacks from the night before. Scanning the room, she searched to see if there was anything or anyone still present in her bedroom. Almost fearfully, she sat, eyeing her wrists. With a sigh of relief when she found no bindings attached; her ankles were free, and her gown was still on. Had it all been a dream? Her mind reeled, trying to remember. The memory, hazy and fading, became little more than a vague picture now. “Oh God, am I losing my mind?” she said aloud. “It felt so real.” She settled herself for a moment, concentrating on trying desperately to remember details. They were as elusive as wisps of smoke, there for a moment, then gone. Sighing, Sydney climbed from the bed. Stripping off her nightgown while making her way to the bathroom, she turned on the shower, adjusting the water the way she liked it -- cool and refreshing. As the stinging spray pelted down on her, she awoke completely. Sydney began soaping and rinsing her body, enjoying the feel of the cool water as it cascaded over her. One small stray stream found the tip of her nipple, enticing it to harden. She felt the tingling throughout her body. Slowly she began caressing herself, enjoying the sexual tension she generated with her hands. Stopping suddenly, her mouth dropped open. Someone was watching her. She could feel it. She swallowed, dropping her hands from her breasts. Fearfully, Sydney stared through the shower’s glass door into the bathroom. No one in sight! She looked thru the steamy glass; at least, not that she could see. Still, she had the feeling of being watched and she couldn’t shake it. Sydney turned off the shower, stepping out onto the fluffy bathmat to dry off. She glanced furtively around the room. For some reason, she had the overwhelming need to get out of the house. When she stepped into her bedroom, the feeling of being watched became more intense. She was beginning to feel more and more odd as the unease over took her. Sydney forced herself to stay calm. She rushed to her bureau drawers, yanking open the top one, pulling out her panties while casting frightened glances around the room. “You’re alone. Quit being so paranoid,” she told herself. Forcing a bravery she was far from feeling, she stepped into the closet and opened the door, gasping as a chill ran through her. The room temperature had dropped for just an instant. She yanked a dress off the hanger. “Stop jumping at shadows. Nothing is going on.” But her gut instinct said something different. Sydney paused. With heart in her throat, she heard a strange, squeaking noise, like someone walking across the old wood flooring in the next room. She froze, still as a

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statue, straining her ears, trying to pick up the sound again. Nothing! Her gut twisted, telling her there was something. But she was not about to stick around to find out what it was. Clothes on, purse in hand, Sydney dashed out the bedroom door, running down the steps. As she turned from the bottom of the staircase toward the front door, a chill ran through her again, causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to rise. Though she could not see anything or anyone, the feeling she was not by herself became overpowering… Sydney snatched the front door open and began running to escape the fear.

Chapter One

The rhythmic beep of the heart monitors with the occasional opening and closing of the elevator doors were the only evidence of life in ICU this early in the morning. Sydney liked to check on her patients whenever she had the opportunity, although they were, technically, no longer hers. Once they were transferred from ER to ICU, she wasn’t responsible for them. Still, she liked to follow up. Sydney studied Mr. Garcia, an elderly man who’d had a heart attack while jogging. On his right, two beds down, was young Mr. Taylor; given his injuries, he'd likely had a change of attitude about jumping off roofs. “Slow in ER this morning?” Sydney turned and smiled at her colleague. “Yeah,” she said. “That is how I like it. I hope things stay the same for you, Carol.”

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The woman answered Sydney’s grin with one of her own. “I’ll second that. I wish I had time to talk, but I’ve got rounds to do. I have got to get this paperwork in order before shift change.” “Go ahead. I can’t stay much longer anyway. I’ll see you at the baby shower tomorrow.” As Carol nodded and moved off, Sydney looked around, somewhat regretfully. She cared about people, and that’s why she’d become a nurse. The problem was, her recent promotion to supervisor in the emergency room did not allow her the personal touch with patients any more. Get’em in, get’em stable and get’em out seemed to be the hospital’s motto. A change from what she was used to. But then again, since moving into Aunt Josephine’s so-called haunted plantation and receiving her promotion on top of that, life had been nuts anyway. With a sigh, Sydney turned away from her contemplation of Mr. Garcia. Duty called, time to return to the ER. Within minutes she was back at her station, examining charts and next month’s shift schedule. “Hey Sydney, are you getting paid extra for being here so early?” Tabatha’s voice teased. Sydney shook her head, keeping her eyes on her work. “Nope,” she answered, recognizing the voice of her best friend and colleague. “Salary sucks.” “So, what’s up? Are you okay?” Sydney turned her attention to the other woman. “Our fellow ER nurse and gossip columnist, Tabatha Knoll, would like to know what is up with me,” Sydney announced loudly, grinning. Once she saw the concern on her friend’s face, Sydney sobered. “Yeah, I’m fine, I guess. Just thinking about a really weird dream I had last night. And, of course, the never-ending pile of paperwork that I do not have time for.” “Hey!” Tabatha exclaimed. “Is next month’s schedule completed?” “Why, yes it is, Tabby.” “Well, you know that on the fifteenth…” “You will be here working.” Sydney completed Tabatha’s sentence in a nononsense tone of voice. “But…” “No buts!” Sydney spoke firmly. “You know damn well that Gloria is on vacation and Deidre is due to deliver.” “But Sydney…” Sydney cut short Tabatha’s whining with a shake of her head. “I said no buts! Now get back to work. If you need something to do there is a drug box full of assorted pills that need counting.” “Boy, you’ve really turned into a regular bitch since your promotion.” With that declaration, Tabatha spun an about face stomping off. “Being boss can be a bitch.” Sydney spoke to empty air. She realized some of the truth in what Tabatha said. Being the boss meant having to be tough. Even with friends. Still, that didn’t mean she had to like it. Sydney suddenly needed to get away from the antiseptic smell of the hospital. She hated being aggressive with her friends. However, at work, it was all business. She left her station, going through the ER doors, welcoming the cool breeze and fresh air. She breathed deeply for a moment, cocking her head. She frowned at the wail of

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the siren breaking the quiet of the morning. An intuitive feeling told her the sound of that siren meant things were going to go bad. Quickly, she quickly assumed her take-charge role, stepping back into the ER. Just in time to hear the ER’s head Dr. Hugh Tomley snapping out orders. She liked and respected this doctor. He could and did make decisions with what seemed like little or no thought. His ability to diagnose and treat multiple patients was almost scary. But the healer could be sarcastic, also, when things were not going well. Moreover, right now, Tabatha was on the end of it. “Nurse Knoll!” Tomley barked. “We need a triage area in the ER lobby. A commuter train derailed. We are about to receive multiple casualties. You do know what triage means, don’t you?” “Yes, Dr. Tomley. I will set up immediately,” Tabatha spoke nervously, as if trying to remember her catastrophe training. “Quicker if you can,” he replied, before turning away. Tabatha skittered off. Sydney realized, to her surprise, that her friend was quaking and near tears. The self-assured young woman who had confronted her just moments before about her schedule was gone. In her place she saw a frightened human being. As Sydney hurried to catch up with her she reflected that Tabatha was still new to nursing, and was about to be indoctrinated in the worst possible way -- trial by fire. Just before they reached the ER lobby -- which was filling rapidly with patients -Sydney grabbed Tabatha’s arm, forcing her to turn around. “Listen, Tabby,” Sydney said, trying to be reassuring. “Take a deep breath. Get some control. We don’t have much time. Things are going to get hectic really soon. You are going to have some tough decisions to make.” Tabatha nodded, took several deep breaths, struggling to pull herself together. “Okay. Where do I start?” “First, clear the room of all patients with non-life-threatening injuries and illnesses. Send them to the main lobby. I’ll get the patient care technicians to come help you.” Still, Tabatha baulked, dread returning to her face. Sydney found herself speaking roughly, hoping to snap Tabatha into a professional role. “Tabby, Dr. Tomley will have one of the ER interns in here to make the really tough decisions. They will not have any decisions to make if you do not get moving!” As she spoke, Sydney could hear the Life Flight helicopter setting down on the helo-pad even as the first ambulance was backing in. “Now!” Her friend was startled, glancing at Sydney, turning and hurrying to help with the arriving patients. With a sigh of relief, Sydney rushed outside to the helo-pad, automatically ducking beneath the slowing blades of the helicopter. The first patient had been already lifted off the helicopter. Sydney joined the paramedics, wheeling the gurney. “What’s the report?” she asked as they hurried to the triage room. “Female, approximate thirty-six years of age, BP 80 over 48 and dropping, pulse 62 and thready, breathing shallow, pupils dilated and unresponsive. Her upper and lower left quadrant is crushed, and her upper left leg also crushed.” As the paramedic rattled off the stats, Sydney noticed the stricken look in his eyes. Despite his professional demeanor, he was clearly shaken. “There are so many on the train that we can’t get to.” Looking up at Sydney for support, his voice was cracking as he shook his head.

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Sydney’s heart plummeted to her stomach. She knew this paramedic. He was a pro with years of experience. But if this was how the accident was affecting him? She swallowed hard, forcing herself to concentrate on the task. She hustled the patient into a triage room. Leaving triage, she moved to the nurse’s station. She kept an eye on everything, her heart sinking as she saw other, severely wounded patients begin filling up the ER as family members carried them in the best they could. Nurses were assisting unloading one more from the helicopter and two off the ambulance. Turning her back on the chaos for a moment, Sydney paged and called all on-call doctors and nurses listed. As she hung up the phone, another ambulance with its load of human cargo pulled into they ER bay. The paramedics raced in, pushing a gurney with a severely wounded patient. “There are four more ambulances on the way,” one of the paramedics told Dr. Hugh Tomley. “One of the passengers on the train was a doctor. She set up triage at the site.” The paramedic’s control broke as he tried to hide his tear-filled eyes with his hand. “Dr. Tomley, its awful there! Bodies, and parts of bodies, everywhere! Oh, God help me, I don’t know if I can go back.” “Listen to me and get hold of yourself,” he said, his voice harsh. “None of us have time for this shit! We need you. Those patients need you. You can feel and deal with your emotions later. Right now lives are on the line.” The paramedic struggled with his emotions and took a few deep breaths. “Yes sir,” he said. Tomley nodded. “Now, restock quickly and get back out. That doctor out there needs our help.” As the paramedic left the room to go back to his ambulance, Tomley turned to Sydney. “Yearling, recall all the ER doctors and nurses.” “Already done doctor, they will all be here within the half hour,” Sydney answered. “What about those five new interns?” “They just got off of an eighteen-hour shift; I believe they are asleep in the nurses’ lounge.” “For how long?” he asked. “About forty-five minutes, doctor.” Sydney replied. “Hell, nurse! You’re letting them oversleep. Wake them! Now!” Nodding quickly, Sydney hurried off to the doctors’ lounge. She did her best to ignore the smeared blood on the floor that seemed to be everywhere, despite the janitor’s best efforts to keep the floors mopped clean. The triage area overflowed as doctors and nurses worked on two and three patients at a time. Sydney noticed, to her relief, that Tabatha was doing her best to keep her patients comfortable, her former hysteria seemingly gone. Sydney arrived, starting to pound on the door while ignoring the curses and grumblings of the just-awakened interns. “Get off your asses! You are needed, now!” Then she hurried back to the ER lobby. Working on instinct, Sydney donned her professional, cool manner, moving from patient to patient to stabilize and reassure. Finally, after what felt like hours to Sydney, the flow of the wounded slowed. The overflow was being sent to other area hospitals. Sydney’s heart broke as she over heard one of the doctor’s saying -- victims of the

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derailment numbered in the hundreds. Swallowing at the news, Sydney took a brief moment before she stepped into the triage area and checked on Tabatha. The strain of it all showing on her friend’s face; she seemed pale with a look of sadness in her eyes. Sydney could sympathize. “How are you holding up, Tabby?” Sydney asked gently. Tabatha turned a stricken face and weary body to her friend. “I have never seen so many dead people,” she whispered. Sydney was alarmed as she sensed Tabatha was exhausted and near collapsing herself. “Listen, Tabatha,” she said quietly. “It’s almost over. Just hang on, okay? Please do not let these people see you like this. We are their only hope. We are all they have right now.” Tabatha’s face twisted in grief. “Damn it, Sydney, I cannot do this! Some of them are asking for a priest, last rites. Some are asking me to tell their family how much they love them. That man over there asked me to tell his son goodbye for him. His-his son is in this hospital right now, d-dying of cancer.” Tabatha put her face in her hands suddenly to cry. Quickly, Sydney took her friend into a storage room just off the triage lobby, away from prying eyes, to give her time to vent her sorrow. As Tabatha’s tears trailed off, Sydney heard another ambulance pull into the bay. “Come on, Tabby.” Sydney tried to blend authority with sympathy, hoping to hell she was succeeding. “We still have a lot of work to do. We can cry about this later, okay? Now, we have to be strong. They’re depending on our strength out there.” Wiping her eyes, Tabatha nodded, following Sydney back into the lobby just as the ER doors burst open. The paramedics, grim-faced, rushed their gurney in. The paramedics had fit the patient on the gurney with mass trousers. Sydney, with a sinking feeling in her heart, knew this was not a good sign. Dr. Tomley raced to the gurney. “What are the stats?” One of the paramedics looked sadly at the doctor. “It’s Rebecca, Dr. Tomley.” Sydney’s knees almost buckled at the news. Rebecca was Tomley’s sister. The doctor stared at the paramedic for a long moment, glanced at the gurney, turning away suddenly. “What are the stats?” Sydney, stepping up, speaking quietly, giving the doctor time to compose himself. The paramedic cleared his throat. “BP 82 over 48, heart rate 135 and tachy, respiration shallow.” “Room two is available,” Tabatha ventured. Sydney nodded her thanks at the other woman. “What else do we have?” Tomley’s harsh voice broke in and the paramedic just stared at him. Sydney could see the woman’s reluctance in her expression. Fearful of giving Doctor Tomley the bad news! The doctor waved his hand in exasperation. “Tell me, damn it!” The paramedic swallowed. “Right femoral artery severed; possible multiple fractures of the cervical spine, and possible internal bleeding, upper right quadrant.” Tomley nodded at the paramedic while motioning two interns to his side, wheeling

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the gurney carrying his sister into room two. The paramedic stared after him in concern. “Should another doctor be treating her…” the woman began. Sydney shook her head. “I do not think you could keep Hugh Tomley away. Not for something like this.” The young paramedic leaned against the wall, trembling, dazed, and a really empty look in her eyes. “What happened?” Sydney asked quietly. “Rebecca heard a little girl crying for help in one of the train cars. Red Cross told her to wait until Fire and Rescue got there, but she did not.” The paramedic shook her head before continuing. “I do not know if she hadn’t heard him or just ignored him. But she went in anyway. We saw her at the window, inside with the little girl. The car was leaning so badly, everyone was afraid that it would roll.” She stopped for a moment, shuddering. “A Fire and Rescue got there.” Sydney continued to listen, her own horror growing as the paramedic told how the firefighter broke the window with an axe. Rebecca handed the child through the opening to safety. “As Rebecca crawled out, the car rolled. She was pinned underneath.” The paramedic’s voice broke. She covered her face with her hands. “It took us two hours to dig her out. And when we did, her only concern was if the little girl was okay. She…” The paramedic shook her head, unable to continue. Tomley came out of room two within minutes. Sydney could tell from his face that his sister had died. His composure broke as he leaned against the wall, sobbing with grief. The paramedic went to him, putting her arm around the doctor’s trembling shoulders. Unable to bear anymore of the sorrow and pain, Sydney moved quickly into the nurses’ lounge. Once there, she entered the bathroom; she locked the door behind her. She sat down on the toilet, weeping. During the past eight hours, she had kept her emotions under control. But the death of someone she knew was the final straw. She had to let out her grief or go crazy.

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Chapter Two

“What the hell do you mean, that’s all there is? You had better find me a goddamn ghost, spirit, poltergeist, or something supernatural if you don’t want your job to become a vanishing entity. Now, get out of my office and get to work!” The harsh words rang in his ears as Jeffrey Dillon backed out of his boss’s office and gently shut the door. “What an ass,” he mumbled to himself as he made his way to his desk. “So, how did it go?” Thomas Hensley asked. Jeffrey wanted to slap the silly smirk off the other reporter’s face. He and Thomas had known each other since college. It had not been a friendly relationship. It was only getting nastier with age. “Just fine,” Jeffrey said in response, putting a touch of condescension in his tone.

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“Matter of fact, the boss is sending me on another assignment.” “Oh, really! I guess he is absolutely ecstatic about your last piece.” And I bet you’re bullshitting me, his eyes said. Before Jeffrey could reply, the door to the Boss’s office flew open. “Thomas, get your ass in here! This piece-of-shit story is exactly that, and you have got some explaining to do!” “Yes sir. Coming sir.” Without another word to Jeffrey, Thomas scurried off. It took all of Jeffrey’s willpower not to burst into gales of laughter, but he managed. After a moment, he frowned down at his desk, amusement gone. He had to find some kind of a ghost story somewhere before the boss fired his sorry ass. Besides, he was interested in finding one, just to satisfy his own curiosity. He had always had a fascination with the occult. He loved Ouija boards, séances and sorcery, UFO’s, the paranormal and magic. Unfortunately, colleges did not offer majors in the supernatural and paranormal activities. Because of that, and because his parents expected more of him than just chasing ghosts or UFOs, Jeffrey ended up graduating from the University of Rochester with his master’s degree in science, with a physics major, and minor in astronomy. A persistent passion for the paranormal eventually led him to a job as a reporter for The Paranormal Times, a small quarterly publication that dealt with everything supernatural, from poltergeists to reincarnation and beyond. Whenever Jeffrey was feeling down or unfulfilled with his life’s direction, he’d go into the archive room. Here was a vast collection of old record, microfilm complete with stories, myths and first-hand accounts about aliens and spiritual beings. By reading some of the older stories, Jeffrey was convinced that, some day, his name would be on an account of something from the other side. “Hey good lookin’. Whatcha up to?” Jeffrey, captured at the sound of the sultry, feminine voice, flushed a little, having been caught zoning out by his former girlfriend. “Hi Brenda,” he replied, hoping he wasn’t as uncomfortable as he felt. “What’s the matter Jeffrey?” The woman was almost purring. “Why so red? You weren’t beating off, were you?” “Brenda, you have such a trashy mouth.” “Tommy-boy likes it,” she said, flashing her beautiful smile batting her penetrating green eyes. Though they had not dated in months, Brenda had hold of Jeffrey’s heart. She could get to him and she knew it. He would rather slit his throat before he let her see how the idea of is ex-girlfriend and archenemy being an item got to him. “Oh, yeah,” he said, sarcastically. “Tommy-boy, he likes a lot of things, most of them dirty. Try to stay out of the gutter, sweetheart. He simply is not worth it.” Jeffrey turned to leave the room, savoring the fact that he actually got the last word in -- for once. As he climbed the stairs heading for his cubicle, the victory tasted like ashes in his mouth. Why did Brenda stir feelings of jealousy in him still, after all these months? What did she see in Tom, anyway? As he walked down the hall toward his cubicle, the object of his irritation, Tom, moved into view.

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“How’s that Pulitzer coming?” Tom asked, with a smirk on his face. “Fuck you Tommy-boy.” Jeffrey regretted the comment as soon as he said it. Lowering himself to Tom’s standard would not help the situation at all. “Don’t get shitty and start taking it out on me, Jeffrey,” Tom said snidely. “If the pressure is too much, get out. No one’s keeping you here.” With a final smirk, Tom pushed past Jeffrey and down the stairwell. With a sigh, Jeffrey continued to his cubicle. It was in a huge room, filled with other like cubicles, which led to one loud, seething mass of humanity. Jeffrey looked around the room and shook his head; depression hit him like a fist. I’ve got to move on. Get out of here. Tom’s right, for once. No one is keeping me here. Sighing, he walked to the receptionist and pasted a smile on his face. “Hi Leslie, did the mail arrive yet?” he asked. Leslie Penterro, a plump woman in her late forties who served as the floor receptionist, plus everyone’s crying towel and personal advice counselor, smiled, shaking her head. “No, Jeffrey,” she said with exaggerated patience, knowing he was impatiently waiting for something of importance. “I’ve told you time and again and you know this. The mail is always delivered at two p.m. Not one minute before.” Jeffrey shook his head thoughtfully and leaned against her desk. “Funny, isn’t it? The mail van is here at ten, it leaves at ten-fifteen, but we don’t get our mail until two! What is wrong with this picture?” He smiled then, placing his hands on her desk, leaning forward in his best investigative reporter manner. “I’m going to blow the lid off this-here mailroom conspiracy,” he said in his 1950s private detective movie voice. Leslie laughed, folding her arms across her ample chest. “What conspiracy, Mr. Hot-Shot reporter? There’s no story here, just union rules that the boys in the mailroom follow to the letter, unfortunately.” Jeffrey shook his head, grinned and walked away. “That’s right,” he said, over his shoulder. “Cut down my investigative methods.” “Go ahead.” Leslie waved him off. “Just tell me when you locate Jimmy Hoffa, will you?” Feeling a little better after his exchange with Leslie, Jeffrey made his way to his desk, plopping down in his chair. The tension was worming into him again. He was waiting for news on the research grant he had applied for. That, combined with his feelings about Brenda and Tom, had him in knots. “Damn it!” He slammed his hand to the desk. Jeffrey had not realized he had spoken so loudly until he heard the snide responses of his co-workers. “Hey! Shut the fuck up!” “Stop stressing out the rest of us!” “Yeah, you are over there rooting around like a slop hog in pity. We’re tired of it, man!” “People! People! Settle, please.” Into the mayhem slid the calm voice of Dolan Marks, the floor manager. After a moment, the man’s smiling face appeared around the corner of Jeffrey’s cubicle. Jeffrey glowered at him, shaking the pain from his hand. He had hit the desk pretty hard.

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“Listen, Jeffrey, maybe you should go upstairs, slap the bag around a bit,” Dolan suggested. “You are not doing anything productive here anyway. Go work it off. You’ll feel better.” “Yeah, maybe you are right, Dolan,” Jeffrey said, somewhat ashamed of his outburst. “Thanks for the suggestion.” “No problem. That’s why I’m the floor manager. Someone has to make the tough decisions,” Dolan said jokingly before placing his hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder. His face turned serious. “I do not know what is eating at you, but I do know this. For as long as you’ve been here, you have just been going through the motions,” he said quietly. “Now, I’m not saying that you have not been doing a good job. I wish all my reporters were so eager to find the truth. I can tell your heart is not in your work.” “Are you telling me to quit?” Jeffrey was startled at the other man’s words, and Dolan smiled reassuringly at him. “Hell no, Jeffrey, I am telling you to go work off some steam in the gym.” With a wink, the other man left. Jeffrey frowned, a little confused by how the conversation had turned. Was his distaste for this job that apparent? With a shrug, he got to his feet. A workout in the gym might not be a bad idea, after all. One of the good things about working for this rag magazine was that the building they were in came complete with a fully equipped gym. Actually, the term spa would better describe the facility, which encompassed the entire fifth floor, boasting a view of Lake Michigan. Jeffrey took the elevator to the fifth floor, visiting the locker room to change into gym shorts and a T-shirt. He went straight to the workout room for his warm-up. Jumping jacks, push-ups, reverse thigh stretches, hurdler stretches, and a few calf lifts; the list went on. He was still tense and irritated. He was looking forward to working on the bag. A few good jabs was just what he needed to really get him relaxed and ready to face the challenge of finding the right article. After working up a small sweat, he was feeling his muscles start to loosen. Jeffrey headed toward the back of the gym, nodding in a friendly fashion at the few people he passed. He reached the back room, which contained the punching bags and the stationary bicycles. On those bikes were Jennifer and Susan, who worked for the insurance agency in the building. They were both pretty girls, but that is all they were. The girls both looked barely in their twenties. One was blonde and one with dark hair, but except for that, they were both identical twins, at least in Jeffrey’s mind. “Hello, ladies. How are you two doing?” Jeffrey asked politely. “Hi, Jeffrey,” they spoke in unison, and then sneaked a peek at each other, hiding their giggles. “We are trying to stay in shape. You know, keep the old heart strong,” said Susan, the brunette. Jeffrey noted that by the way she was pedaling; no way was her heart getting any stronger. He suspected they were up here just to show off their young tight bods to the occasional stud wandering by. Well, that was their business. He had some work to do. “What are you up to, Jeffrey?” asked Jennifer. “Just a little bag work. You know, keep the ole heart strong.” Jeffrey threw them a sly smile.

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They both giggled; despite himself, he clenched his jaw to hide his irritation. God, he hated that shrill sound. He turned his back on them, selecting the one hundred and fifty-pound heavy bag for his target, starting out with slow jabs, then a few sidekicks to loosen up. As his heart rate increased, so did his tempo. He warmed up nicely; his muscles loosened, responded to his demands. He hit and kicked the bag with more gusto, the sound of the blows echoed throughout the room. At one point, with sweat streaming down his face, Jeffrey paused to pull off his T-shirt, revealing sleek muscles on his back and shoulders dancing under his wet, glistening skin. Deep in his exercise now, Jeffrey had forgotten about his audience. He was totally immersed in what he was doing. He worked hard now to reach the peak of his endurance. His muscles screamed for him to stop even as his heart pounded against his chest. He gasped for air, slowed his pace, forcing himself to cool down, which gave his body a chance to come down to a normal heart and pulse rate. Taking deep, even breaths, he slipped back into his T-shirt and turned to face the girls on his way to the showers. At first, he was perplexed. They looked completely exhausted. Yet both Susan and Jennifer had a look on their faces that screamed for that after-sex cigarette. Jeffrey laughed silently once he realized what must have happened. Why, those horny little broads were getting off on the sight of him beating up on a punching bag! That, combined with the typical effect of a good workout, put him in a better mood instantly. “Have a great workout, ladies,” he said, to rub the salt into their wounds. They stared at him, saying nothing, and he had to restrain another laugh. After his shower, Jeffrey returned to his desk with a grin still plastered on his face at the reaction of the two young empty-heads in the gym. For the first time in weeks he bypassed Leslie’s desk without asking about mail. Her voice brought him up short. “What? Not going to ask about mail delivery? Something came for you.” Heart in his throat, Jeffrey turned to her, noticing the sly look on her face and the envelope she waved above her head. Giving her an unsure grin, Jeffrey grabbed the envelope, tearing it open avidly. Mr. Dillon, Congratulations on your grant award of $75,000 for paranormal research. Please review and sign the enclosed documents and include bank routing information for wire transfer to your account. Good luck in your endeavors. Sincerely, John Abernathy Jeffrey’s knees turned weak. He sat down hard in his chair. This letter was his ticket out of this dead-end job with the asshole editor. His dream of seriously studying paranormal activities would now become a reality. “Well, Jeffrey. Congratulations.” Jeffrey jumped as he heard Dolan’s voice directly behind him. Jeffrey turned in his seat, staring at his supervisor, wondering how in the hell the guy had known what was

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in the envelope. Dolan shook his head and smiled. “It’s written all over your face, Jeffrey,” Dolan said quietly. “I did not have to read the letter to know that it’s your pass out of here and to other, hopefully better, things.” Dolan extended his hand, and Jeffrey just stared at it, as though he had no control over his muscles or what to do with them. “Goodbye, and good luck, Jeffrey,” the other man said. Dolan’s words broke Jeffrey’s stasis, and he took the man’s hand, shaking it heartily. “But let me tell the boss,” Dolan continued. “I want to see the look on his face.” “Sure.” Jeffrey said, letting go of Dolan’s hand. He supposed it would be polite to give the boss his notice directly. To be honest, he didn’t want to ever have to talk to the guy again, if he could avoid it. “What are you going to tell him?” Dolan treated him to a sly smile. “I think I will tell him that you are investigating a story about some little people who bake cookies in a hollow tree.” *** Within the week, Jeffrey was out of his old life on his way to his new one. Today, his second day on the road, the air was cool, slightly damp, and very refreshing. Jeffrey had the top down on his Mustang convertible as he drove the back roads and obscure highways to his destination. He felt the wind blowing through his hair. The sight of the beautiful sunrise made him realize how much he loved the country. Being raised in the city, he never spent much time outside of the towering buildings. He had been driving through the night, happy to be on his way. Now, the hum of the engine and the mesmerizing sound of his tires on the blacktop were having a hypnotic effect, leaving Jeffrey’s mind to drift over the past two days, and peoples’ various reaction to the news. His dad’s shit-fit. Tom’s not giving a rat’s ass, because he had been named lead reporter in Jeffrey’s spot. But the best part of all of it, in Jeffrey’s opinion, had been the vein he saw throbbing in the Boss’ forehead as he watched Dolan tell the man he was leaving and basically to kiss his ass. For once, the idiot hadn’t had a retort. Lost in his thoughts -- not to mention tired from his hours on the road -- he didn’t see the animal looming up before him until the last minute. Instincts took over as he gasped, slammed on the brakes, and frantically twisted the steering wheel to avoid his imminent collision. Squealing tires filled his ears and a wall of trees filled his vision when the car left the road. The Mustang, still moving at a good pace, kissed a tree stump, flinging Jeffrey’s body out of the car and toward the wall of not yet carved two-by-four lumber. The last thought on his mind before blacking out was how much he hated the country after all.

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Chapter Three

Teresa Wayne

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Frowning, Sydney stood before the schedule in the nurse’s station, examining it. This was no good. With two people on vacation, one going on maternity leave, she had to spread everyone out way too thin. Including Sam, who was already doing backto-back shifts, thin was not the word for how short staffed she was. Swearing to herself, she stepped forward, trying to re-arrange the schedule yet again to be fair to everyone, when she suddenly felt herself pressed against the board by an immovable force. Her right cheek squashed against the wall as she tried to push back. The force was much too strong -- almost as though a larger, stronger body was holding her captive. “Don’t say a word.” A male voice whispered the order in her ear. “Don’t move.” Sydney could not have moved or spoken to save her life at this point. There was something very familiar about this presence. Curiosity replaced the fear that she was feeling as she awaited his next move. Warm breath flowed over her left cheek. She felt herself being pulled back from the board. Hands moved gently up her arms, across her shoulders then around to her breasts. Fingertips brushed the outer curve, cupping them and giving a gentle squeeze. Despite herself, her nipples grew hard at the phantom touch. She should have been outraged by the liberties this thing took with her body, but she could not move. Truth was, she didn’t want to. She wanted him to continue what he was doing. His hands moved from her breasts and down her sides, traveling past her waist, to her thighs. Waves of pleasure crashed through her at his touch. She moaned in desire as his hands worked their way to her inner thighs. His skillful use of the tips of his fingers further excited her. Don’t stop, she begged, feeling herself grow damp. Go further. Please. As though on cue, Sydney’s skirt rode high above her waist. Sydney forgot about modesty, forgot she was in a nurse’s station that was open to the public. Her entire focus was on those phantom fingers. Fingers which seductively worked their way into the crotch of her panties, spreading her lips wide open for exploration. Sydney moaned as she felt his fingers stroke softly across her clit, which was swollen with her desire. She was way beyond any coherent thoughts as she spread her legs wider to allow him better access. The fingers moved from her clitoris to her opening, tenderly circling, threatening to penetrate. But perversely teased, not doing so. She was out of her mind by now, gasping, grinding, pressing; doing all she could to show her need to be satisfied. Suddenly, he slid a thick finger into her vagina. She gasped with surprise and pleasure. “I will see you soon,” the voice whispered in her ear. The finger and the presence were both gone, leaving Sydney alone, hot, and unfulfilled. “No, please!” she cried out. “Don’t go!” Suddenly, she heard the sudden shriek of the Code Blue alarm. Heart already thumping in her chest, she jumped at the sound, aware of her disheveled appearance. She turned to respond, then suddenly found herself on a cot in the nurses break room.

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The alarm clock wailed beside her ear, and her hand was in her panties. Flushed, she realized what had happened; Sydney reached over, turning off the alarm. She lay back down, staring up at acoustic ceiling tiles. She had been having another erotic dream. This one felt so real, just like the last one did. Even worse, she was still hot, wet and horny. Some dream. For a moment, she was tempted to finish what had been started. She thought better of it. She had to get back to the floor. Sydney resolutely ignored the flare of desire that glided through her as she pressed her legs together. She rose to her feet, straightening her skirt. She peeked at herself in the mirror that hung in the wall of the lounge. The image that stared back was flushed, tousled, looking as though she had just had sex. Wondering, she touched her hand to her hair, then hardened her lips. “You must be losing your mind, Sydney Yearling, or are in desperate need of a man.” Shaking off her lust, she left the nurses’ lounge and headed to the station. Tabatha was at the desk, charting cases. She looked up at Sydney with a welcomed smile that changed to a sly grin. “Nice nap?” Tabatha asked. “Or were you doing something else you shouldn’t have been?” Sydney sighed and sat down. “Is it that obvious?” “You look like you just climbed out of bed with someone. It looked like it was fantastic,” Tabby said, then grinned. “Who was he?” “‘He was a dream,” Sydney said, and shook her head again. “I was dreaming -fantasizing -- that some guy was attacking me in a very erotic way, right here in the nurses’ station.” “Did you know him?” “No.” Sydney was still confused and bewildered, her body tingling from the fantasy encounter. “I did not get to see his face. I didn’t recognize his voice.” “So you just let some stranger have his way with you?” “Tabatha, it was only a dream.” Sydney was annoyed at the teasing in Tabitha’s voice. “Yeah, well, next time, send him my way.” Tabatha said, stretching her arms above her head as she slowly rolled her head on her neck. “I sure could use a good dream like that. I’m having a bit of a dry spell.” “What! A dry spell? You?” “Oh, very funny, Sydney!” Tabatha stuck her tongue out. Sydney gave her friend a forced grin. Just then, the intercom crackled to life in the nurses’ station. Sydney’s heartbeat notched up for a moment. Ever since that horrible commuter train wreck a few days before, the code alarm had almost become her enemy. Sydney hoped she never felt that helpless in a medical crisis again. Today, it seemed as though the luck was good. One patient only so far, unconscious, from what the paramedic had reported. Blowing out a sigh of relief, Sydney got to her feet. “Show time! We have company coming,” she announced. Tabatha nodded, almost eagerly leaving the charts on the desk. The two walked to

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the entrance of the emergency room. The doors opened as the paramedic and EMT rolled in a gurney. Sydney spared a glance for the dark-haired unconscious man on the gurney before turning to the paramedic. “What do we have?” she asked. “Blood pressure 110 over 60. Respiration is shallow, but steady. Pupils are dilated. He’s unconscious, with a possible concussion and a deep laceration inside his upper left thigh.” “Take him to room one please. Tabatha, please, if you can, get some information from the police officer.” Tabatha hurried to comply. Sydney led the medical personnel and patient to the room, holding back the curtain for easier entrance. As the emergency personnel transferred the patient from gurney to bed, Sydney moved around the room. She began collecting suturing items, scissors, gauze pads, and other things needed to close up gaping wounds placing the items on a tray. As she wheeled the tray into position, Carol Yates, the ER’s attending physician, strode into the room, glanced at the patient, nodding at Sydney. “I heard the stats as they wheeled him in,“ she said. "Not so bad. Not as bad as last week, anyway!” Sydney nodded soberly. “Let’s get the bandage off to have a look at this laceration,” Yates continued. Sydney stepped forward, scissors in hand, cutting away the patient’s trousers, leaving the compression bandage on his upper thigh exposed. “Careful for possible laceration of the femoral,” Yates murmured as she checked the large bump on the patient’s right side of his head. “Boy, that’s going to leave a pretty bruise. This poor guy is in for a definite headache during the next few days or so.” As Sydney gently peeled the bandage on his leg away, she was relieved to see that the wound was oozing rather than spurting. Spurts of blood would indicate femoral damage. Yates, in the meantime, continued to examine the patient’s head and neck, in search for any lumps, bumps, and soft spots. After she completed her check, the doctor moved to Sydney’s side to study the thigh laceration. Sydney adjusted the light so the doctor could better see. The doctor gently spread the skin folds of the wound to get a better look. “A lot of trash in here,” she said. “Looks like tree bark and dirt; no damage to the artery, though. Good thing, too. Let’s clean up, flush and stitch him up. Then he can go to X-ray for that bump. Let’s make sure his skull is in one piece.” “Sutures or staples, doctor?” “Better use staples. It’s pretty big.” At that moment, Tabatha walked into the room overhearing the last comment from the doctor. She looked at the patient’s thigh injury. Her eyes grew wide as her gaze traveled between the man’s legs. “Yeah, buddy, he sure is a big one,” Tabatha said appreciatively. Yates looked up from the wound, frowning, peering over her glasses at the younger nurse. Before the doctor could say a word, Sydney took action. “Get out,” Sydney hissed. Tabatha didn’t hesitate, but scrambled out of the room. Sydney felt bad. Tabatha had, after all, only been saying what she had been

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thinking. Any woman would have to be dead not to notice that the guy was really hung well. Trying to contain her chuckles, Sydney wondered how Yates was managing to ignore the patient’s rather oversized attributes. She could not help but notice the long, lean muscles of the patient’s legs. She was wondering how those legs would grip and flex in the throes of passion...She was still in the thrall of that strange, erotic dream she had only a few moments before. Now it was interfering with her objectivity around a patient. “All done here, Sydney!” Yates’ words made her jump. Sydney cursed herself. Goddamn dream. “How about taking some routine vitals for the chart?” The doctor continued, handing her the clipboard. Without waiting for a reply, she strode out, leaving Sydney alone with the patient. Jeffrey Dillon, read the name at the top of the chart. Great, now the man wasn’t just a patient. He had a name, meaning he had a personality. He was incredibly handsome. Strong jaw line, high cheek bones, dark hair, and the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. Jesus, Sydney. Snap to it or go hire someone to fuck, will you? Stop imposing your fantasies on this poor guy and get to work! Thus scolding herself into some semblance of professionalism, Sydney placed the stethoscope on his chest. She listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat. In her mind, she was allowing her fingertips to caress his muscular chest; a chest lightly matted with hair. Despite her best efforts to control her sexual drive, her eyes trailed down his flat stomach and settled on his groin. She caught herself -- embarrassed by her lack of self-control. After writing his vital signs down on the chart, and almost with a sense of relief, she left the room. She was proud that she only glanced backward once. The rest of the day was relatively quiet. Sydney and her staff dealt with a couple of broken bones, an eye flush, and a hysterical father-to-be, who fortunately stayed together long enough to remember where he had left his very pregnant and extremely irritated wife. Though she remained busy in between emergencies, tending to paperwork, Sydney caught herself thinking about the patient in room number one. She could not get her mind off him. Or them -- naked, and in bed! It had been way too long in between men for her. Sydney looked up as Tabatha walked by. “Hey Sydney, I’m heading to the cafeteria. You want anything?” “No thanks, I’m good,” Sydney said, with a casualness she was far from feeling. She continued, “Oh, by the way, what did you learn about our laceration patient?” Tabatha stopped short and frowned. “Laceration patient?” “Yes, Tabby. Remember, our first patient this morning” “Oh, yeah,” Tabatha’s face brightened at the memory. “The one with the big…” Her sentence was cut short by the look on Sydney’s face. “Sorry. He’s in ICU now.” “Thanks, Tabatha. “Tell me something I do not know, please.” Her friend grinned at her slyly. “Okay. How about this? His name is Jeffrey Dillon and he’s from Rochester. Rochester, that is in New York State, not Minnesota. According to police, he was probably on some kind of business trip or vacation,

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because he had several suitcases in the car.” Tabatha looked toward the ceiling, as if receiving more inspiration from the acoustic tiles there. “Oh yeah, he’s thirty-eight. And single,” she offered. “How do you know he’s single?” Sydney said. . “No ring, silly. No tan line either, around his finger, where the ring should be. Jeez, Sydney. You haven’t been shopping in awhile have you?” “Thank you, Tabby, for that personal insight!” Sydney was stung by her friend’s words, only because she knew Tabatha was right. She was interested -- too much so. “This is a hospital, not a pick-up joint for men!” “Very funny Sydney. I may be a nurse, but I am also a woman who appreciates men. I would love to show my appreciation to Mr. Jeffrey Dillon, all night long.” With that, Tabatha turned and headed down the hall with a little more bounce than usual. Sydney looked after her friend and sighed, damning her preoccupation with Mr. Jeffrey Dillon. With an effort, Sydney pulled her mind away from the man, focusing on the pile of paperwork before her. So intense in the endeavor she jumped when Dianna Paxton, the night shift emergency room nurse supervisor spoke. “You staying all night again, Sydney?” Sydney glanced at the clock, shaking her head. The day had flown by and she had not been aware of it. “No, of course not.” “Anything pending? Or do I get to catch some sleep tonight?” Dianna came behind the desk to study the schedule on the wall. Sydney smiled. “All’s quiet, so dream away, my sweet princess. But FYI, if the test on the donor for that kidney transplant comes back as a match, the patient will arrive here around 10:30 tonight from Richmond General by helicopter.” “What’s that got to do with me?” “Nothing. I just thought you might want to be awake and alert when they all come strolling through here. Nothing like an ER nurse supervisor asleep at the switch, right?” Dianna laughed. “Okay, thanks for the heads up. Could you please take this to the baby shower for me?” Dianna handed her a nicely wrapped gift. “I surely hate not being able to go.” “Well, we will celebrate in your absence. See you later, Dianna. Goodnight.” With that, Sydney left her colleague to her duties, going to the nurse’s locker area to change and, with present and purse in hand, made her way to ICU. Several patients admitted yesterday were still there. As Sydney made her way around the room, checking on them all, she had one destination in mind. The corner bed, containing the handsome stranger who had been thrown from the car was where she was heading. She finally came to the foot of Jeffrey’s bed, staring at him for a long moment. “Who are you Mr. Dillon?” she said softly. “He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?” Sydney jumped, turning to find Carol Orel, the ICU nurse, standing by her side. Sydney patted her chest, miming a heart attack smiling. “You startled me, Carol. Did he regain consciousness at all?” The other woman nodded. “Yeah, about an hour ago. He seemed to be in quite a bit of pain, so Doctor Yates had me dope him up. He went right back out.” Carol noticed the look on Sydney’s face and hastened to reassure her. “Don’t worry, he’ll be just fine.

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Do you know him?” “No.” Sydney’s voice was a whisper. “Well, don’t fret, he’s gonna be staying for awhile.” Carol grinned. “Maybe you will get to know him a little better.” Sydney blushed. Carol chuckled. “Okay, I will leave you two alone now. The baby shower is at eight tonight. I still got some wrapping to do.” “Okay, thanks, Carol. I’ll see you there.” As the other woman moved off, Sydney stood at the foot of Jeffrey’s bed, her eyes not leaving his face. “Who are you and why are you here?” she finally asked him -- and herself. “Why am I here, for that matter? Why am I so damn attracted to you when I don’t even know you?” * * * Later that evening, Sydney and Tabatha left the party. The two women were in high spirits because the party had been so enjoyable. It was good to get out, celebrating life once in awhile. Death was a common companion in the ER, and the baby shower provided a welcome excuse to have fun and reflect with the mother-to-be. “Did you get a good look at that hideous bonnet she got? Oh, my God!” Tabatha doubled up with laughter as Sydney chided her, though she was hard-pressed not to laugh herself at the horrible shower gift choice someone made. “Now, Tabatha, be nice.” “But Sydney it was so…so...colorful! That’s the only way I can put it. It will look like a box of crayons melted all over the baby’s head.” The two women giggled at the thought. “That mobile you brought raised a few eyebrows,” Sydney said. Tabatha grinned. “Oh come on Sydney. What was the problem? It had lions, tigers and bears, oh my!” Sydney laughed. “Yeah, they were cute, but Dorothy in the prophylactic was a bit much.” “Well it did amuse everyone. I may have embedded a subliminal message in the mother-to-be’s mind.” “Subliminal, hell! You should have just blurted it right out.” Laughter echoed down the street as the two off-duty nurses continued walking. Suddenly, from behind them, a set of headlights switched on, pinning the two women. A moment later, the driver pulled beside them, horn blaring. “I’m looking for two pretty ladies. Have you seen them?” The man at the wheel laughed uncontrollably at his joke. Tabatha and Sydney glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. “Real funny Slim Jim,” Tabatha replied. “Hi Greg,” Sydney said, as she tossed a questionable look at Tabatha, wondering what the man was doing here, now. The other woman leaned forward to whisper in Sydney’s ear. “Look, I realize he is an ex-boyfriend, but it’s good to keep them close, if you know what I mean? I asked him

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here for a ride home. I wasn’t sure how much drinking would be involved.” After she finished her private conversation, she posted a question aloud. “You want a ride to your car, Sydney?” “No it’s just a little further. I’ll walk.” Tabatha gave her a crafty smile. “Night Sydney.” “Night.” With a shrug, Sydney left Tabatha to climb into Greg’s car, continuing on to hers. The damp night air chilled her. Fall had arrived with cool nights in Virginia. This was Sydney’s favorite time of year. As she arrived at her car, Sydney’s mind drifted to memories of her childhood and how her parents would take her to visit her crazy Aunt Josephine. That is the title she heard her mom use when she spoke to her dad about her. Mom never really cared a lot for Aunt Josephine. For some reason, she would not enter her house unless dad was right by her side. Now Sydney was living in crazy Aunt Josephine’s house. She unlocked the car door, sliding behind the wheel as memories of her past still danced through her mind. She could understand her mother’s nervousness about the house, she guessed. Sydney recalled a time or two herself whenever she would visit Josephine from college that she felt she was being watched. Sydney snickered at herself for being drawn into her mom’s haunted head. Most of the memories of her aunt and the house were good ones -- running through acres of cotton, swimming in the James River and those oh-so-wonderful parties Aunt Josephine would host. Josephine was a class act, all right. A bit eccentric, but a class act, nonetheless. As Sydney arrived at the house, she recalled her other favorite memories were of when Dad and Aunt Josephine would tell stories about Grandma and Grandpa, and how they used to torment each other. The driveway was long and dark as Sydney drove. The warm glow of light being reflected from inside the old mansion welcomed her, almost called her name. She parked her car around back of the mansion. Sydney swore to herself. “The damn porch light is out.” She felt in the dark for the right key that would open the back door, getting out of the car, reminding herself to tell Mr. Brown about the blown light bulb. Making her way to the back door, she fumbled a moment for the key, matching it to the slot and swinging the door open. Sydney dropped her purse and keys on the kitchen table, proceeding to pour herself a cocktail. She moved on to the library. A stiff drink and a good book would be just the thing she needed to relax her enough to fall asleep. How about a stiff cock? Thoughts of Jeffrey Dillon and his endowment drifted through her mind. A frown crossed her lips. She tried to put Jeffrey out of her mind as she scanned the shelves in search of something to read. The shelves were filled with books. Some as old as the house, which was built before the birth of America, when monarchs ruled from across the Atlantic. Sydney recalled Aunt Josephine’s stories about their ancestors, how the house had been built and owned on the purchase and sale of commodities – something to do with tobacco or textiles. During the 16th century, the family had even owned a couple of ships, Sydney now recalled. Sydney plopped herself on the sofa giving up on the idea of reading a book. Her

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mind was too busy to focus. There were too many books to choose from. Instead, she allowed herself to drift back to the patient in ICU, the unmarried Jeffrey Dillon. Who was he? What was he like? As she sat musing over the unknown man, one drink turned to four or five. Finally tired beyond belief, Sydney stumbled upstairs to her bedroom, climbing into bed, and passing out.

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Chapter Four

Jeffrey’s eyes fluttered open. He winced as the fluorescent light struck his eyes. He ground his teeth together, realizing his careless mistake. He had a hell of a headache and clenching his teeth didn’t do much good to stop the pain. He noticed a blur of human form. “Could I have some medicine for this headache and water, please?” he croaked. But the shape ignored him and continued. “Just some ice? Some ice would be really helpful.” There was still no response. Jeffrey found himself growing more and more irritated. Looking around the room, he saw other shadows. None looked his way; it was almost as though he didn’t exist. Where the hell am I? Am I awake? Hell, am I even alive? The last thing I remembered is my car meeting a tree. Then everything went black. “Screw this! I will get my own damn water.” He attempted to rise on one elbow but fell back on the pillow. He was trembling and felt so weak. His head felt as though it were about to explode. Someone please help me! The thought hammered through his brain as he passed out. “Good morning Mr. Dillon. And how are we feeling?” Jeffrey awoke to the all-too-cheery voice “Well, I feel like I ran into a tree, how do you feel?” Jeffrey answered, a bit sarcastically. “Now, now, no need to get testy.” She wagged a playful finger at her patient. Jeffrey sighed. So what if I’m feeling like shit. It does not give me the right to take it out on her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not sleep well. By the way, who were all those people in here, earlier? I’d like to complain about their bedside manner. “Excuse me? Nurse Patterson,” reading the nurse’s name tag. “All those doctors or nurses or whoever they were. The ones who were in here earlier, they walked around and I asked for water. But they acted like I wasn’t even here.” She gave him a patronizing smile, convinced he was hallucinating. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dillon, but I’ve been here all night. No one else has been in here. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming? Sometimes people with head injuries have been known to hear and see the strangest things. But it is typically a temporary condition. Also, I’m sure the sedative the doctor gave you didn’t help much He thought for a moment. Those people had been in here, he was sure of it. But seeing the look on Nurse Patterson’s face, Jeffrey decided not to push the point. “Yeah,

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I guess you’re right,” he said. “How bad am I? When can I leave?” “The doctor will be here shortly to check on you and answer any questions you have. Now, I need to check your vitals, so…" She waved a thermometer at him while she grinned from ear to ear. “Now, where shall we put this?” How ‘bout we put it where the sun don’t shine on you? He wanted to say. But he forced a pleasant smile instead. “Let’s try the mouth,” he suggested. “I do not like things shoved up my ass.” Nurse Patterson giggled, slipping the thermometer under his tongue. But as she took his other vitals; his blood pressure, heart rate and so on, Jeffrey was haunted by the people he saw earlier. They had to have been there. I wonder why they ignored me. Maybe they were trainees and not allowed to help yet. But I wish I could have seen them a little better. Then he frowned. Trainees? Where did that thought come from? Before he could tease any more from his brain, he drifted off to sleep again.

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Chapter Five

Sydney rubbed the back of her stiff neck lifting her aching body off the sofa. “Coffee, I need coffee!” she muttered herself. As she neared the kitchen, almost in answer to her prayers, the life-giving aroma of brewed java stimulated her nostrils. With a sigh of relief, she entered the empty kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cupboard. She poured some of the hot, dark liquid, uttering a quiet, “Thank you Mr. Brown,” as she brought the first cup of life-giving elixir to her lips. As she sat at the table, nursing her coffee, telling herself that her pounding morning-after headache would go away soon, Mr. Brown stepped in from the porch. “Mornin, ma’am,” Mr. Brown said. “Good morning, Mr. Brown. And thank you very much for making coffee.” The older black man nodded. “You welcome, ma’am. You wants me to calls my Mrs. to fix you up some brefess?” “No, thank you, coffee is just fine.” It never felt right to Sydney, having this elderly man constantly refer to her as ma’am. But her attempts to try to change him had failed. She finally had let it go. Besides, Mr. Brown’s view was she was the niece of Josephine and deserving of oldfashioned courtesy and Southern respect. “Well, ma’am,” he said, “I just fixed that porch light -- was burned out. So now, I be outdoors tendin’ the lawns if you needs me. Miss Knoll rang for you early this mornin’, too.” “Thank you, Mr. Brown.” He nodded at her and stepped out again. With a sigh she looked around the kitchen to find a bottle of aspirin. Sydney

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washed down a couple with the remains of her coffee. She poured another cup before going to the phone to call Tabatha. “Hello!” Tabatha picked up the phone on the first ring. Sydney wondered sourly why her associate sounded so perky while she, herself, was battling the hangover from hell. “Hi, Tabby,” Sydney said pleasantly. “What’s going on”? “Oh! Hi, Sydney! I called earlier, but that nice Mr. Brown said that you were unavailable.” “Yeah. I was sleeping off some cold medicine,” Sydney lied. “Cold medicine, my ass,” Tabatha responded. “Anyway, Greg and I are about halfway to the beach. I called to invite you.” “Thanks Tabby, but I’ve got things to do today.” “What things? You’re not going to the hospital, are you?” Tabatha asked suspiciously. “Yeah, maybe for a little while. Just to check on things.” “You mean check on him, don’t you?” “Him? Him, who? What are you talking about?” Sydney did her best to sound nonchalant. “You know who, and on your day off, too. I cannot wait until Monday to spread the word.” “There is no word, Tabby. I gotta go. Have fun.” “Sure, Sydney. Just let me know how it goes, okay?” “‘Bye, Tabby.” A smile crossed Sydney’s face as she hung up the phone. Am I being that obvious? She headed for the stairs and her bathroom to take a shower. She already knew the answer to her question. She was hooked, all right, no doubt about it. But with her damn luck, he had a girlfriend stashed somewhere else. Or maybe he was gay. With another smile at her foolishness, Sydney closed her bedroom door and began to remove her clothes. Naked, she stood in front of her floor-length mirror, studying her reflection carefully. She cupped her ample breasts, feeling how firm and soft they were. She slid her hands down her body and across her flat stomach, placing them to rest on her shapely hips. Despite the stresses of her job, her facial complexion was peachesand-cream, which accentuated her dark blue eyes and blond hair. “Not too damn bad for a thirty-four year old, if I do say so, myself.” Sydney turned her back on her reflection, going into the bathroom to turn on the shower. She adjusted the temperature stepping in, letting the water finish the job her coffee started. A sudden image appeared in her mind of Jeffrey Dillon in the shower with her. She allowed herself to drift with the fantasy, enjoying how his hands would feel on her soap-slicked skin. The massaging effect of the water, combined with the image of Jeffrey with her and the gentle way she touched herself, aroused an erotic excitement. Soon, her hand was between her legs, delicately fondling her clit, while the other gently pinched a nipple. It was all too easy to imagine Jeffrey’s fingers as they touched her in such an intimate way. Her sexual languor disappeared as the warm, soothing water suddenly turn ice cold. “What the hell?” Sydney jumped from the tub, avoiding the icy needles of the jet, frantically tried to adjust the temperature, but nothing worked. The hot water knob was

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all the way open but still only cold water flowed. Annoyed, she turned the shower off. “The hot water heater went out already? I am just getting moved in.” She picked up a washcloth to remove the remaining soap from her body. As she stepped out of the tub to dry off with a towel, a creepy sensation came over her; she wasn’t alone. She was being watched. As she looked around with caution, the sensation faded. Sydney moved into the bedroom beginning to dress. While pulling up her panties she felt a slight tug, as though the waistband had caught on something, but then released. Strange warmth caressed her nipples, as though someone released a gentle summer breath. She shook her head as she finished dressing -- baffled at the oddities she had encountered in her home. When she finished, she headed downstairs to the back porch to see Mr. Brown, who was tending to the lawn. She waved at him. The older man shut down the mower,, walking toward her. He was elderly, she knew, somewhere in his sixties or seventies. He still had the energy and stamina of a younger man. “Yessum, ma’am? You be needin’ somethin’?” “Yes, Mr. Brown, Could you have the hot water heater looked at? I just ran out of hot water while taking a shower. It’s probably old, and needs replacing.” “Yessum, ma’am, but that heater be only a few months old. I had hot water only a few minutes ago when I washes up.” “Oh really?” Sydney replied. That was odd. Really odd. “Well, just the same, could you please have it looked at?” “Yessum, ma’am.” Mr. Brown nodded his head and went back to his lawn mower. “Well, there has to be an obvious explanation for the lack of hot water -- maybe he’d used too much, washing up.” What about the breeze across her nipples earlier? Sydney realized, she had forgotten to tell Mr. Brown about the draft, too. She didn’t want to interrupt him on the lawn mower. Time to go check on her patient, and figure out what magic pull this guy had over her and why. Sydney slid behind the wheel of her car; her eyes glanced up at her bedroom window. The sheer curtains were normally drawn across the window. As she focused, they were pulled to one side with a man standing there She blinked and the figure disappeared. “Shadows must be playing tricks on me,” she told herself. Still, she wondered. As wrapped up as she was in getting to work, Sydney managed to notice Mr. Brown, who had stopped his work and glanced up at her window, also. He appeared to have noticed the shadow by the expression on his face, before restarting the lawn mower again. *** As Sydney pulled into her usual spot in the hospital lot, she began to feel anxiety. She wondered why the hell she was here on her day off. The same anxiety followed her as she stepped out of her car; went through the hospital doors and took the familiar path to the elevator – only this time, to the Intensive Care Unit. Her heart pounded in her chest as she leaned back against the elevator. She paused for only a moment when the doors slid open on the correct floor. She took a deep breath and stepped off

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toward the ICU -- and the patient she had come to see. “This guy is not a movie star,” she told herself, “so just take it easy.” Despite her self-motivated pep talk, Sydney could not still the butterflies in her stomach. The unknown Jeffrey Dillon had attracted, yet frightened her. Certainly, he was gorgeous man, but Sydney had known many gorgeous men in her life. Her exhusband had been one, but that did not keep her marriage together Sydney turned into the ICU anxiously scanning the beds. Her heart sank, Jeffrey was not there. No way could he have checked out, not in the shape he was in... “Top of the mornin’ to ya, Sydney.” Sydney started at the sound of Cathy O’Brien’s voice. “Oh! Hi, Cathy,” Sydney responded. “Who you be lookin’ for, me dear?” the other nurse asked. Sydney chuckled. “Stop it, Cathy. Just because your last name is ‘O’Brien,’ doesn’t make you any more Irish than I am. And by the way, it’s afternoon.” “Jeez, Sydney, I need to stay in practice,” Cathy threw her a hurt look. “One day I may return to my homeland. I do not mean Charleston, West Virginia.” Sydney had anxiety still, hoping that it was not apparent. “I’m sorry, go ahead with your play time. I did not sleep well last night,” she said. “Did the baby shower get that wild?” Cathy said, chuckling. “And by the way, did Tabby bring the mobile?” “That was your idea?” The ICU nurse burst out laughing. “Yeah, it was my idea, but I would not have had the nerve to bring it. Anyways, who are you looking for?” “Jeffrey Dillon,” Sydney said in a coy fashion. “He was brought in yesterday with a concussion, and a thigh laceration from a car accident.” “Oh, yeah. I remember him. He was strange. He kept talking about rude personnel walking around and not giving him any water when he asked for it. Anyway, the doctor had him admitted to a room upstairs.” Cathy saw the look on Sydney’s face and hastened to reassure her. “He’s okay. That nasty cut on his leg needs to be watched, just to make sure no infections take hold.” “What room is he in?” Sydney asked. “C’mon, we’ll check,” Cathy said, then laughed. “I’m not sure what your interest is in him, but join the club. I hear the nurses up there are fighting over who gets to change his bandage.” Cathy chuckled again as she led Sydney to the nurses’ station, picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Crystal. I need to know the room that Jeffrey Dillon’s in -- thigh laceration and concussion. Yeah, that’s the one. Room two-fifteen? Okay, great. Thanks.” Cathy hung up the phone and turned to Sydney with a smile. “Two-fifteen, Sydney. By the way, Teresa’s changing his dressing right now.” Lucky Teresa. The words shot through Sydney’s brain before she could chase them out. “I’ll just go up and take a peek,” Sydney said. “Again, join the club,” Cathy said, “from what I understand; they all want to take peeks...” Sydney expressed a slight smile, “Thanks for your help,” moving towards the elevator and entered. As she stepped on, she realized she was jealous. But why? She simply could not justify the feeling, but it was there, nonetheless.

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The elevator came to a stop. Sydney stepped out. “Jesus, what’s wrong with me?” she asked herself. “Am I horny? Lonely?” The answer, she knew, would be “both,” as she stepped toward room two-fifteen. She still didn’t understand herself why Jeffrey Dillon should provoke the strange feelings that were erupting inside of her.

Chapter Six

Jeffrey lay in bed, trying with all of his heart not to cry out while the nurse treated his leg. Fully conscious, he wished he could faint. The wound on his throbbing leg was still large, and tender. “Ah, shit!” He could not control himself. Teresa looked at him reproving, he managed a smile. “Sorry,” he told her. “I will try to behave. It hurts like hell.” “You’re doing fine Mr. Dillon,” she told him in a flirtatious fashion. “I will try to be a little more -- gentle, okay?” Jeffrey picked up on the flirting in disbelief. Ever since being transferred to a hospital room, he had nurses trying to come on to him in subtle ways. What they could see in him, a patient flat on his back with a concussion and a leg wound, was anyone’s guess. As Teresa touched his sore leg, finishing the wrap, Jeffrey winced. This time he managed to keep the swear words to himself. He rolled his head on the pillow, turning towards the door. There in the doorway stood an angel. She was stunning; slender, but with curves in all the right places. As he looked into her eyes he caught his breath. He was afraid to blink, for fear she would disappear. God, she’s beautiful.

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He did not know who she was. He had never seen her before in his life. Somehow, he was convinced that this woman was no stranger to him. Not at all. In the meantime, he had other problems. “Gee, Mr. Dillon, I did not know what I was doing felt so good.” Teresa’s voice brought him back to reality. He was unaware that he had become aroused while he stared at the vision in the doorway. Everything was in plain sight. He blushed, managing a shaky laugh. “Actually,” he said, “I think I might have to go to the bathroom.” Teresa sighed theatrically. “And here I thought it was all because of me. Okay. I will get the bedpan after I finish wrapping your leg.” As she turned, Teresa saw the woman in the doorway and smiled. “Hey, Sydney,” Teresa said to her. “I will be done in a minute.” Sydney. So the gorgeous vision had a name. “No hurry,” Sydney said. She had a sultry voice that danced along his spine making him shiver. He told his penis to calm down. He decided to focus on the pain in his leg. That would help to dampen desire. At least for now. “I just wanted to see how Mr. Dillon was doing,” Sydney said. “Well, Mr. Dillon, looks like today is your lucky day,” Teresa said, as she pulled tighter on the bandage. “This is Sydney Yearling, our head ER nurse. It is not everyday she follows up with patients.” Sydney stepped into the room as Teresa made the introductions, extending her hand toward Jeffrey, a slight smile on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dillon,” she said in a soft tone. “Jeffrey. Call me Jeffrey,” he said, a bit hoarse. As he took her hand, a jolt of desire shot through his body, stunning him with its potency. “Well, Mr. Dillon,” she began, laughing. “Sorry. Jeffrey. I wanted to make sure everything was okay with you and that there were no complaints.” Jeffrey focused on the sound of her voice, loving the way his name rolled off her tongue. How would her voice sound, calling his name in passion? “No complaints here, nurse.” “Okay, if I am to call you Jeffrey, you need to call me Sydney. I am glad there are no complaints. There should not be, as the nurses here are the best -- what about the food?” The devilish sparkle in her eyes requested an answer. “I only got here a few hours ago from the intensive care unit. I have not had lunch yet,” he said. “But the Jell-O surprise I had for breakfast could use some work.” She giggled. Jeffrey thought he had never heard such an adorable sound. I’m smitten with this woman and I don’t even know her. At that moment, the loudspeaker crackled in the corridor, requesting all floor nurses to report to the third floor nursing station. Teresa heaved a sigh as she gave a final tweak to Jeffrey’s bandage. “That’s my cue,” she announced. “It is the bedpan for Mr. Dillon here. Stop by the station to visit awhile before you go, Sydney. Okay?” “Sure, Teresa.” Sydney said. “I’ll see you there.” “As for you, Mr. Dillon, don’t you dare go anywhere,” Teresa spoke, giving him a

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wink. “I will be back with your portable toilet.” “Gee, nurse, can’t wait; thrill of my day,” Jeffrey said in a sarcastic tone. He laughed at his comment, turning his grin to Sydney. Sydney cleared her throat. “Well, I need to be getting on, too,” she said. “I wanted to stop by to see how you are doing. I can see you are in good hands. I’ll let you rest now,” she continued with smoothness, “and it was very nice meeting you.” Jeffrey’s heart felt as though it stopped when he realized this sensual and intriguing woman would be out of his sight. He took her hand in both of his, giving her a light squeeze. “Nice meeting you, too.” He continued to hold her hand, gazing into her remarkable blue eyes. She was not in any hurry to be free from him either. “Would it be okay if I stopped by again? You know, just to make sure you’re all right and everything.” “I’d like that. I am not from around here and would love the company.” “Great.” Sydney withdrew her hand from his. “Maybe next time I come back, you can tell me where you’re from. I will share a boring story or two about myself with you.” “Boring? I doubt it.” She laughed. “Just wait, Mr. Jeffrey Dillon. You may be sorry you said anything. See you later.” With that, she turned and left. “Actually I hope to see you very soon,” he whispered. After a moment he turned on the television, folding his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling. The past few minutes had changed his life in some way. He could not figure it out. His thoughts were on Sydney Yearling, emergency room nurse and a hell of a woman. In his mind’s eye he could see her lovely face, complete with full lips, adorable blue eyes, slender, delicate nose, and a lovely, smooth complexion, all framed by silky, shoulder-length blonde hair. Her body, hidden under those jeans and T-shirt was something to dream about, too, with full, round breasts that jiggled when she walked. The sway and curve of her hips had not gone unnoticed, either. Jeffrey thought all these things, but deep inside he realized there was more to Sydney Yearling than surface beauty. She was a woman who carried herself with dignity and pride. Jeffrey knew, without a doubt, that if this woman wanted something, she would get it. To his surprise, he wished she wanted him. He smiled to himself. Now why would he think that? All he knew was there was an air about her that attracted him; put him under her spell. He stared at the television, unaware of what was being broadcasted. His heart and thoughts with Sydney Yearling, she made him forget about everything else. After awhile, his leg began to bother him again. He realized he could use some painkillers. He reached out buzzing for a nurse, while his thoughts drifted back to Sydney. His leg’s ominous ache, intruded. He grimaced, pressing the buzzer for the nurse again. “Damn! They show up to pester you when you’re sleeping, but when you need them, the place turns into a ghost town,” he grumbled, looking up just in time to see Nurse Wanda Patterson with a syringe in her hand and a dark look on her face. “I get your point, Mr. Dillon, but, I’m not going to just drop what I’m doing and come running like they do on nightshift. There are other patients here I have to see to also.” She advanced on him, holding the syringe in a threatening manner. Jeffrey, trying

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not to cringe back from the expression in her eyes, wondered if maybe the leg pain was better than an angry nurse. “I hope you are not getting dependent on this stuff,” she muttered, slipping the syringe’s needle into his IV. “No, ma’am,” he assured her. She had the needle, after all. She smiled at him, her face softening. “All right, then. Now lie back, try to get some rest; I know you’re hurting, but try, anyway. I’ll be back in a little while to check your dressing.” “Thank you, nurse.” She gave him a smile, as she departed. To his relief, his pain began to ease. The floor became quiet, hushed almost. He floated in and out of a drug-induced euphoria. Jeffrey heard someone call his name, beckoning him to open his eyes. He struggled against the power of the painkiller, forcing his eyes open. A smile formed on his lips at the familiar and loving female that stood before him. Grandma? She’s dead, isn’t she? “Yes Jeffrey, it’s me, baby,” the woman confirmed. And she can read minds? “But how can you be here?” Jeffrey asked. He realized that if he weren’t so sedated, he’d probably scream and run out of the room. “Shhh…Hush now.” She tenderly touched his forehead in an attempt to soothe him, as though she knew what he was thinking. Then again, she always had known what was on his mind. “I have some things to tell you, and I don’t have much time. So just listen to me, it’s important.” Jeffrey nodded obediently, feeling as though he were about 10 years old again. “Remember when you were downstairs in that other room asking for water?” Jeffrey nodded again. “Well, sweetheart, those folks are like me.” “Like you? You mean dead?” She nodded. “Sweetheart, our bodies die but our spirits live on. Some of us still walk among the living.” “Why do they stick around, grandma?” She smiled at him. “You were always one for a lot of questions, weren’t you, Jeffrey? Very well. Some have unfinished business. They are trapped because they were not able to complete their tasks. There are spirits like me, who watch over and protect our loved ones. Then there are those who are trapped, waiting for someone to release them. Those are the ones you need to watch. I cannot stop them from hurting you. I can only warn you.” Even through the drug-induced haze, Jeffrey felt a stirring of alarm. “What can I do to stop this?” She looked at him, regret strong in her eyes. “I wish I had all the answers to your questions, dear. I don’t. All I know is, for whatever reason, you have been given a gift similar to the one I had. Some folks call it a curse to see the dead. It can be a curse, because it infuriates the evil ones when you see them.” “Grandma, how did I get this, this gift?” “I have to go now.” His grandmother started to fade. “I will be watching you as best I can, Jeffrey. I love you.” “Don’t go! Please, come back...”

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As the vision faded, Jeffrey slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Seven

The room was damp and dark. The only light filtered through a small skylight in the ceiling hitting a round table. The air was stale, smelling of sweat, urine and body odor. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room, Sydney noticed people squeezed together, shoulder to shoulder. Not just people, women! They were young women, in their early twenties, from what she could tell. They were filthy, dressed in rags, with matted hair and slouched postures. Despair permeated throughout the room. Sydney could hear quiet sobs and whispers. Footsteps and voices echoed from outside the room. A moment later, the sound of keys reached Sydney. Two men stepped into the room. Both were clean, much older, wearing stylish clothes. Sydney could sense evil radiating from the two men. All became quiet, from the hushed sobs to prayers. The women looked at the floor

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and refused to meet the eyes of those who had just entered the room. However, the men showed no such discretion. Their eyes were greedy as they scanned over the women. One of the men, the one who appeared in charge, stood at the center of the room, making a slow circle, motioning to his unfortunate victim. “That one,” he ordered. The object of his interest was snatched up by the other man. He pulled her through the crowd toward the middle of the room. He held her upright, with her arms behind her. His friend stepped forward to grab a handful of her hair, forcing her head back. “Let’s have a look at ye, wench.” Before the young woman could respond he reached out, grabbing the neckline of her garment with both hands, tearing the half-rotted dress off her body. Sydney gaped at the scene, swallowing in fear and compassion for the young girl, who could not have been more than twenty. Though ragged and dirty, she was beautiful. Nevertheless, these monsters did not care about the girl’s looks, Sydney knew. They were after only one thing. The man’s hands grabbed hold of his prisoner’s young, plump breasts, beginning to squeeze them. Her eyes widened at the pain but she did not cry out. He pinched her nipples in rough aggression. She broke into a scream of pain. He laughed in triumph. “Bend her over the table,” he ordered the man holding her. He forced her, belly down, on the table, holding her still, as the man in charge stepped forward. He pulled up the back of her gown, tearing off her undergarments. He stood for a long moment to admire her soft, smooth round bottom, unbuckling his trousers to release his swollen cock. “I have somethin’ for ye wench.” He ignored her screams of agony as he began to force his way into her. He rammed himself in her so roughly it was as if the pain she felt lifted her off the table. The brutal assault began! Sydney tried to tear her eyes away from the awful sight, finally managing to look away. Only to look back again as she realized to her horror that the other man who had held the woman down during her assault, had released his engorged cock. He was now forcing himself upon the unfortunate girl, also. “How ye like it at both ends, bitch?” he grunted. Without warning, the man in charge landed his fist into the face of his underling, who fell to the floor with blood gushing from his broken nose. “Give ye noodle to the wharf whores,” the boss snapped. “These wenches are not for the likes of you.” The assaulted man gasped in pain, cupped his hands around his bloody nose without another word, and ran from the room. The man in charge continued his assault on the beaten girl, while he moaned his pleasure, all throughout the rape. The girl stared at Sydney with dead eyes, all the fight drained out of her by the man’s brutal assault. The man in charge turned his eye’s to Sydney, “I told you I’d see you again.” Sydney sat straight up, terrified, looking around. She was safe in the nurse’s office. She had laid her head down on the desk for a quick rest. It seemed to have turned into a nightmare. “Thank heaven it wasn’t real,” she murmured. It had seemed so real...

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Forcing her mind onto a calm, rational path, Sydney slowed her breathing as she rose from the desk. Just a dream. Just a dream. It wasn’t real. As Sydney smoothed her hair and splashed the sleep from her face in the bathroom sink, she continued her mantra. She went out to the main desk to retrieve more coffee to see Tabatha, with her head in her arms, snoring. “Hey!” Sydney poked the other woman. She woke up groggy. “Oh, hey, Syd.” “Rough night last night?” Sydney tried to be sympathetic, but the remnants of the dream left a nasty taste in her mind. “Oh, Sydney. Many rough nights, I guess. Greg and I have been fighting all week. I have not been getting much sleep.” “Fighting?” Sydney looked at her, bewildered. “Fighting about what? I didn’t even know you two liked each other enough to have a fight.” “Well, we’ve been kind of dating again.” “You mean each other?” Tabatha managed a wan grin at that. “That’s what dating means. Exclusive. Things have gotten kind of serious between us.” Sydney pursed her lips. She was glad that Tabatha had found someone. She was a little irritated that it interfered with work. “Well, try to keep it out of the emergency room, okay?” Sydney said, then laughing at herself. Who was she to give relationship advice? She was mooning over a man she had barely known for two days. “Mr. Dillon is going to be released today.” Tabatha said. “Oh really?” Sydney pretended an air of nonchalance. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Where would he go? Would he leave town for good? It was silly of her, but she hoped not. “Really,” Tabatha responded. “He has got to stick around town for awhile, though, find a doctor here, at least till his leg is all healed and he gets the staples out.” Thank you, God. “Well.” Sydney spoke in brisk tone, to cover her flare of emotion. “I will go oversee those discharge orders.” She made her way to the elevator, stopping when she heard Tabatha’s laugh. “You’re not on hospital rotation today, Syd. Remember?” “Uh...Maybe Wanda needs help.” “Sure. She could use a hand. I’m sure of it.” Sydney frowned at Tabatha as she convulsed with laughter. Then she shrugged making her way to the elevator, aware of her quickened heartbeat. She reflected, though Jeffrey had come into her life only a handful of days ago, she felt more energized. She could not figure out why though; any more than she could figure out her attraction to a man she had not known for that long. As the elevator doors opened, Sydney shook her head. She was no romantic. Her practical side ensured that love at first sight was more fable than reality. Try to tell that to her heart and the butterflies in her stomach. She paused outside Jeffrey’s room, took a deep breath to compose herself. She willed herself to a calm frame of mind. She knocked on the door, with his invitation to

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enter, walked into the room. “Hello, Jeffrey.” She was very proud of herself that her voice was matter-of-fact and normal, in direct contrast to her emotional state. His eyes lit up when he grinned, his smile doing strange things to her insides. “Hello, Sydney,” he said, his voice almost like a caress. Sydney looked away and swallowed, desperate, she tried to cloak herself in professionalism. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “Did you sleep well?” “I’m fine. I slept like a log. How are things with you? I mean since yesterday?” “Uh...fine. No changes.” Sure, she told herself wryly. Sydney Yearling, brilliant conversationalist, strikes again. “I understand you’ll be leaving us today,” she continued, trying like hell to mask the disappointment in her voice. “Well...yes and no.” His eyes twinkled at her. Sydney brows knitted in confusion. “Yes and no? I’m not sure I understand.” “The doctor suggested I stick around town for awhile, at least until the staples are out of my leg, especially because, where I’m going, I do not have a doctor yet. I can do that. I can take the time off and all. The insurance from my old job will carry over for another month. The problem is, I do not have a place to stay. Do you have any suggestions about finding an apartment to rent?” “Don’t be silly. You can stay at my place.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could censor them. Sydney cursed to herself. She wondered from what depths of her horny subconscious that invitation had come. Nothing like coming across as too eager! Why didn’t she just come right out and tell Jeffrey she wanted to jump his bones, for God’s sake? Instead of turning her down politely, he smiled at her. The slippery warmth kindled in her lower belly. “What about my wound?” “Well, your head wound is probably worse than they thought.” He stared at her quizzically, and she laughed. “I’m a nurse, numbskull, remember?” Jeffrey laughed. “How could I forget? Being my nurse in the hospital is one thing -coming into your home, eating your food, taking up space and having you as my private nurse is another. I do not want to be a bother.” Bother me all you want, Sydney wanted to say. But she held her tongue with an effort. “You will not be a bother,” she told him. “I have plenty of room. We have a wonderful woman on the premises who would be delighted to provide some home cooking for a big, strong man with a healthy appetite.” Sydney groaned. She wondered what part of her had been taken over to act making her so flirtatious. This simply was not like her! Jeffrey leaned back, his arms behind his head, treating her to another lust-induced grin. “Home cooking sounds great, especially after this hospital food.” Was there a double entendre in his words? Sydney looked at him, but his face gave nothing away. “Just give me your address and I’ll take a cab over,” he continued. “You’re being a numbskull again,” Sydney said. “I am already here. I will take you to my house.” “You’re being awfully nice to me, a stranger, Nurse Sydney.” Jeffrey spoke with an

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intimate tone. She felt her insides turn to goo at the tone of his voice. “You have been through a rough time,” she responded. “It’s the least I can do.” She tried to make her voice sound professional. But it came out gentle, sympathetic, instead. Her eyes met his as she was drowning in his dark brown gaze. “I think that time is about to become less rough,” he told her. “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.” “Well, I will expect payment after you’re all better and back on your feet,” she said. Taking refuge in flirtatiousness was definitely preferable to being consumed by his spell right now. “Not to worry, nurse,” Jeffrey said. He expressed a grimace as he shifted his injured leg. “If you can get me up and around, I will be forever in your debt.” “I’ll hold you to that,” Sydney said before she turned, leaving the room. Outside, she leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes. “Hey, Syd.” Sydney opened her eyes, seeing Wanda with a sheaf of papers in her hand. “I’ve got Dillon’s discharge papers here. The doctor says he needs to stick around for a couple of weeks to make sure his leg doesn’t get infected. I have also got a list of apartments that have two-week rentals…” “Don’t bother, Wanda. He will be staying with me.” Wanda’s eyes widened as she grinned. “So it’s like that, is it?” the other woman said. Sydney flushed when she realized how the comment came across. “It’s not like anything, Wanda.” Sydney tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. “He needs a place to stay. I have plenty of room, and Mr. and Mrs. Brown to help me look after him.” “He likes you.” The other woman winked at her. Sydney could not help but feel intrigued by her statement. “How do you know?” “Well.” Wanda’s voice took on a confidential tone. “After you left him yesterday, he was asking about you, wondering if you were married or seeing anyone. In my experience, Syd, that’s the first step before a guy asks you out.” Sydney blew her breath out; unaware she had been holding it. Wanda was right. Could it be that Jeffrey actually had feelings for her as well? I do not believe it. I cannot believe it. “Could be, or maybe just the head wound that’s making him talk.” Wanda shook her head, impatient with her external ignorance. “Do not be an ass, Sydney. The man likes you. I think you reciprocate. If you are going to do something about it, work quickly. A specimen like that is not going to be on the market for too much longer.”

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Chapter Eight

Teresa Wayne

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“Are you ready?” As good as her word, Sydney was there to pick Jeffrey up. He was ready for her -- ready to leave this hospital room for good. More importantly, he was ready to get to know Sydney Yearling a little better. A lot better, if his hopes were to be realized. Did she feel the same way about him? Earlier that day she had come across as very flirtatious. That was no big deal though; since he landed in the hospital, all the nurses, even the formidable Nurse Wanda, had been flirtatious with him. As if they were starved for men or something. Jeffrey overheard the conversation outside his hospital room between Sydney and Wanda. It stuck in his mind. Could be the head wound that was making him talk. How do I tell Sydney that it wasn’t the head wound at all, that in the space of just a few days, I think I’ve fallen head over heels in love with her? He mulled that one over as they made their way to her car. Sydney moved with expert patience, matching her pace to his walk with the crutches. Her car, to his relief, was a Ford Taurus, not one of those compact machines. He could stretch his legs out in the front seat. After helping him into the passenger side, she threw his suitcases in the back seat and climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the car. Quietness overwhelmed the ride home. Jeffrey was definitely aware of a growing affinity between the two of them. Jeffrey realized his ambivalence about the whole situation, his desire to form a meaningful relationship with this woman was too strong to resist. What he had felt for Brenda was never this strong. Yet his breakup with Brenda had hurt like hell. With the deeper emotions that he felt for Sydney, a woman he did not know half as well as Brenda, it would devastate him if they ever called it quits before it even started. His musings were interrupted as Sydney slowed down to turn onto a wide road that passed under a brick and wrought iron sign. “Magnolia Plantation, huh?” Jeffrey smiled at her. “I’m moving in with a real Southern Belle. I never thought I would have the pleasure.” He loved the way her lips turned up at the corners, on the way to a full-fledged smile as he teased her. “You Yankees,” she responded, pulling out her Southern drawl as rich and long as taffy. “Do y’all think us women do nothing more than wear crinolines and petticoats and do good deeds?” Her words conjured up visions of Sydney in those petticoats with nothing beneath. Jeffrey felt himself grow hard at the image, and he muffled the swear words. At his sudden silence, Sydney turned to him, questions in her eyes. “You feeling okay?” she wanted to know. Sure, if to jump your bones means I feel okay, then I’m just fine, thank you. Jeffrey nodded in positive acknowledgement, looking around at the long driveway. The huge magnolia trees lined the road with the house at the end, a two-story structure with a touch of Victorian accent, sitting on a large amount of acreage. “Just taking it all in,” he said. “I did not know nurses made such a good living.” Sydney chuckled as she slowed the car around the circular driveway and cut the engine at the back of the house. “We don’t,” she told him. “This was all left to me when my aunt passed away.” Jeffrey gave himself a mental slap. His mouth had run away with him. This seemed

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to be a new habit for him. He enjoyed teasing her, typically enjoying her response to his repartee, but he’d taken it too far. “I’m sorry,” he said with contriteness. “About your aunt, I mean. I did not mean any disrespect with my remarks.” Her swift smile in response astounded him. “Thanks, Jeffrey, for your sympathy. Don’t be sorry. You were not being disrespectful, either. My aunt was a bit eccentric but she had a rich, full life. I miss her. I will always remember her lively spirit and her spunk.” “So that’s where you get it, then,” he ventured, feeling himself turn red at her look. “Sorry. Again, no disrespect intended.” “And none taken,” she told him. “Stop with the apologies for everything, Jeffrey! And do not feel guilty about it, okay?” Guilty? Was that how he came across? Well, if nothing else, at least his erection had deflated. He was not sure how he could manage the crutches, and hide that too. “Sor…” he began, backed down laughing at her severe look. “Okay, point taken.” A grin crossed her lips as she got out of the car. She came around to the passenger side, opening the door to help him out. He got out, maneuvered the crutches under his arms and made his way, a bit awkward, to the front steps, where he stared at them with gloom. “Twelve steps. At least they are shallow steps,” but still, with the crutches... “Don’t worry, I will help you out,” Sydney told him. He shook his head stubbornly. He was seized with a wild desire for her to see him as a man, not some invalid. It was dumb and lame; he knew it. His stupid, macho pride would not let it go. “I’ve got to learn how to get around on these things,” he told her. “You are not going to do anyone any good if you fall, injuring your other leg,” she told him. “Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re pissed?” he said, and smiled. She folded her arms as she frowned at him. “Fine,” she said. “Change the subject, then. Suit yourself. But do not blame me if you come crashing down on your ass.” “Don’t worry, Nurse Yearling. I won’t slap you with a personal injury suit or anything like that if it happens.” Jeffrey spoke, more focused on his crutches under him again, irritated at himself for his bravado. Truth was he could use her help. Those steps looked like a bitch. He would swallow knives before he backed down now. He realized it wasn’t too terrible. He was making sure his crutches were secure under him as he made his way up the stairs, aware of Sydney behind him, ready to catch him if he should tumble over backward. Somehow, he somehow felt secure with her behind him like this. By the time they reached the top of the stairs perspiration had saturated his shirt. He noticed Sydney had put her arm around him. He leaned against her for a moment, grateful for the strength and softness combined, which she radiated. “You okay?” she asked. He nodded, relieved to find his strength coming back. “Yes, thanks,” he told her. “Those stairs can be a bitch to someone on crutches,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Tell me about it.” “Well.” She turned to meet his gaze. Jeffrey, with another part of his mind, realized she had tightened her hold on him a fraction. He looked deep into her eyes, seeing the

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strength and vulnerability combined there. The compassion in those orbs reached out to him, embracing him. For a long moment, he could only stare at her, into hers. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Jeffrey had always loathed that saying, but realized now what the hackneyed phrase meant. Sydney Yearling’s soul was laid out perfectly in her eyes. Jeffrey knew he would do anything to get to know that soul a lot better. Sydney reached across Jeffrey to open the back door while she maintained her secure grip. A new male voice startled Jeffrey as he entered. “Do I needs to sets another plate for dinner, ma’am? Sydney removed her arm from around him at once. “Thank you, Mr. Brown. That would be great. This is Jeffrey Dillon. I have offered him the hospitably of this house until he’s back on his feet again, so to speak.” Jeffrey turned, awkward on his crutches as the elderly black man with the lively eyes nodded pleasantly at him. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dillon. Welcome to Magnolia Plantation.” Mr. Brown appeared to walk with ease the line between respect and self-strength, and Jeffrey found he admired the man for it. “Anything I can do to aids you with your healing, you lets me know.” “Thank you.” Jeffrey just barely refrained from adding sir to the end of the sentence. He sensed it would offend Mr. Brown no end if he did so. “I’ll tell the Mrs. we have a guest and I’ll adds another plate to the table, ma’am,” Mr. Brown said to Sydney, and she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Brown.” The man nodded and left. They entered the house with its spacious foyer. Jeffrey let out a long, low whistle at the polished wood and huge rooms. “A mansion with retainers,” he said. “Your aunt must have really liked you a lot to leave you all of this.” Sydney laughed as she led him across the hallway to the library. “I’ll have Mr. Brown bring a bed in here for you. I don’t think you can navigate the stairs yet. Jeffrey nodded. “Appreciate it.” “In response to your comment, yes, Mr. Brown and his wife, Mrs. Brown, came with the house. I will be honest with you, Jeffrey. I’m not used to this lady of the manor stuff. I learned that they both become offended if I don’t let them do their job.” She shrugged and smiled. “I am more used to doing for myself, but the two of them look after me.” The smell of fried chicken filled his nostrils as his stomach let out an audible growl. Sydney laughed. “I’m hungry, too. Let me check on dinner. You can get settled here in the library. I will call you when it’s ready.” “Great, Sydney. Thanks.” Flashing another quick smile at him, she left the room. Jeffrey crutched his way into the library, stopping dead in his tracks to scan the shelves of books, most of which were old prints, probably originals. Jeffrey knew all about books from researching paranormal experiences from centuries before. He realized that what Sydney had here was a goldmine of collectables, worth a fortune. His eyes wandered over the old books, taking in titles about shipbuilding, navigation, maps. He was amazed at the sheer number and age of the tomes. Jeffrey

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caught sight of a heavy built antique desk in the corner of the room. He felt drawn to the piece of furniture, making his way to it, noticing the elaborate design on the side and front panels. The carvings in the wood seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place them. Reaching the desk, he slid his hand across the smooth top. A chill ran through him, as if he was not alone. He looked up suddenly, not sure if he believed what he saw. The whole atmosphere of the room transformed, with the bulbs in the chandeliers having been replaced by candles. Jeffrey tried to clear his head. His eyes fell on a life-size portrait of a man in what appeared to be some type of long ago maritime uniform. The individual had a full beard, weathered face, and if the portrait actually was to scale, this fellow was a big man. His eyes were cold and piercing. They seemed to bore through you. This man would hurt someone if it suited his purpose. The bottom center plaque was engraved Captain Nathanial Yearling. Was this the artist? No, the artist had signed the portrait. This was the subject. Jeffrey studied the man. He was handsome in a way, but arrogant, with a cold light in his eyes. Jeffrey shuddered a little, turning his attention, with some relief, to a small bookshelf beneath the portrait. He glanced at the books; his eyes rested on one of the larger books, The Holy Bible. Against his will, Jeffrey reached out and touched the binding. At that moment, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. A bolt of unpleasant energy shot up his arm. Flashes of pictures danced across his mind’s eye: Someone being whipped, bodies thrown over the side of a ship, a room of naked and half-dressed women. Just as sudden as they had begun, the images ended. Jeffrey found himself standing before the bookshelf; his hand still on the book, his body trembling. He meant to pull his hand away. Instead, some compulsion made him pull the bible out of the bookshelf. As he did so, it came apart with the insides falling to the floor. He held the aged binding, scanning the room with guilt, but found himself alone. Pulling his arm back, he took a deep breath. The temperature drop, the images, what just happened? He glanced at the spilled contents and it struck him that these weren’t biblical pages but rather, separate books. He gathered them up, laying them side by side on the desk, left to right. He mouthed the titles, which were written in a fine, old-fashioned copperplate. Ship’s Manifest. Captain’s Log. Journal. His curiosity ran rampant and he slid the Captain’s Log toward him, the unease forgotten with the first entry. March 23, 1634 Day 11, at sea. The sky is clear, winds are light, and leeward, the sea is calm. The night before was chaotic at best. We sailed into a moderate storm. The ship and crew rode well but some of the cargo freed themselves and became unruly. My second and Bos’n tried to control the matter but they were attacked. The Bos’n was badly beaten and is resting at this moment. The crew answered the call for assistance and regained order. The cargo is now safely stowed and the perpetrators dealt with. One of the offending culprits did not

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survive his punishment and had to be discarded into the sea. The ship’s manifest will reflect the loss of this cargo accordingly Jeffrey wasn’t shocked or surprised at how slave traders looked at or treated their human commodity. He wondered, though, if Sydney was aware of how her family’s fortune had been obtained. As he flipped through the book, he continued to read. June 17, 1634, Day 2, of a heavy storm. I’ve lost two of my seamen overboard as they tried to stow the sails. Waves are crashing over us and the main deck is awash constantly. The order has been given to batten down and hold tight. All we can do is ride out her fury. For when the sea is angry, it is best men hide their faces from her. June 18, 1634, The storm passed. My second informed me that the ship was listing to port. Upon investigation, it is found that the hatch leading to the lower port hold did not remain secure through the storm. The sea was allowed to enter and filled her belly. The cargo in that hold was damaged and had to be released to the sea, which claimed it. Loss of cargo accounts for 120 items, twenty and two male, ten and two female. I had the seamen responsible for securing the hatch lashed and locked in the brig for 14 days with bread and water ration. Reimbursement will be difficult at best. Deeply involved now, Jeffrey continued to read the passages. He noted the heavy seas, blind rains and assorted sea-life. He noticed something else -- a large number of the lost cargo consisted primarily of women, and that the mortality rate of the females seemed to be high. He shrugged, feeling a distant compassion for the human cargo and how they suffered. Jeffrey shut the manifest, sliding the journal toward him. As he opened it, he felt the cold chill once again. He ignored it as he began to read the first page. His expression changed to shock. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “How can a human treat another like that?” He felt the need to close this at once, disgusted at what was going on between the pages. As curious as Jeffrey was, he did not want to read any more. As he looked up from the pages, his otherworldly universe continued as two shadowy forms appeared. They were men, he noted, and they were deep in conversation. Jeffrey’s sense of unreality continued to claim him as he took in their clothes, which were worn in another century. Jeffrey watched one of them; a short, fat one, pull out an envelope, handing it to the other, who was in uniform. “It’s a fair price for one so pretty and young, Captain,” he said. Captain? Jeffrey thought to himself. Was he actually, somehow, imagining that Captain Nathaniel Yearling was actually in this room? Impossible. “Aye Governor.” The Captain spoke with a strong drawl that grated on Jeffrey’s nerves. “Having the wench hanging upon your arm as you attend your fancy balls or

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stroll the boulevards will undoubtedly cause a man’s head to turn.” The other man laughed. “Quite right, but I was thinking more of having her under me. She will be obedient in this matter, will she not?” “Guaranteed! One way or the other,” the Captain responded, and both men laughed. The object of their discussion came into view, a young woman dressed in a plain linen covering, her head bowed, eyes downcast. Jeffrey realized, to his horror, that he was actually witnessing the sale of part of Yearling’s cargo. Desperately, he tried to rise up, but the pain in his leg kept him stock still, an unwilling audience. “Could I be so bold as to ask to sample her pleasures?” The buyer spoke, and Jeffrey shivered. “Of course you may, for she is yours. Let me remind you that I shall not return your money if dissatisfied, but I will, however, exchange her.” “Yes, yes; all is understood.” “Well, then, I shall take my leave to allow you two to get to know one another. One more little reminder, though. I will not receive damaged goods.” “Aye, Captain. You’ve a reputation for a good eye, so I trust you,” the man said. The Captain nodded, turned, and vanished. Jeffrey wished he could vanish, too. At least this horrifying scenario would vanish from his vision. Nevertheless, he couldn’t move or cry out. The man circled his chattel, eying her with hunger. The woman stood still, obedient; not a word spoken or a muscle moving. The man stepped forward, sliding the back of his hand across her cheek, moving it gently down the column of her throat and to her breast. He squeezed it. Jeffrey winced, knowing how painful it must be for this woman to endure such fondling. “Undo your shift, wench!” Both Jeffrey and the woman jumped at the sudden harsh command in the man’s tone. Almost listless, she slid the shift off her shoulders to reveal all. The man’s breath became heavy, his eyes glazed as he licked his lips. He reached out to caress her, and she trembled. “Fine stock indeed.” The man spoke in a hoarse, greedy tone. “Lie down, girl; spread ye legs.” Oh, God, no! Jeffrey couldn’t bear this. He was forced to watch the rape of this young woman, without being able to do anything about it. Jeffrey tried to rise, to call out, but he was frozen solid, unable to move or speak as he found himself a witness to this woman’s upcoming degradation. The woman remained silent, no movement, and no sound. “You will scream for me!” The man, enraged by her apparent indifference and his aggression intensified, wearing her down. Jeffrey cringed at the man’s lunatic laughter as he continued his assault. The screams and apparitions faded. Jeffrey, thankful for the disappearance of his vision, remained motionless. The chandelier was as it should be once again, with light bulbs rather than candles. Was this his overactive imagination playing tricks on him? Yes, that had to be it. Giddy with relief as he convinced himself. The pain pills have

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taken a toll on me. No wonder my imagination has run amuck. Sydney came into the library and as she smiled at him. He managed to set his visions of slave trade and brutality aside, to focus on Sydney for the moment, but his hunger had other plans. The scent of fried chicken and mashed potatoes wafted from the doorway, provoking his stomach to rumble. “Dinner’s ready, and just in time, too, from the sound of it,” she said, her eyes sparkling at him. Jeffrey drew himself up in mock haughtiness. “It’s about time. I was ready to perish in here!” “Well, come on, then. I won’t hear the end of it if dinner gets cold,” she told him. “Do you need help?” Jeffrey stood, working his crutches under him. He sighed. “No thanks, Sydney,” he said. “It’s just the stairs I cannot maneuver. I should be relatively safe on a flat surface.” “Hmm.” She looked at him, skeptical. “Okay. As long as I am not going to be the victim of a lawsuit should you happen to slip and fall?” Jeffrey chuckled, following her out of the library. “Fill me up with fried chicken, lady, and you won’t have to worry.” She turned to face him, her blue eyes solemn with a hint of wry humor. “I’ll hold you to that.” I wish you’d hold me. “You do that.”

Chapter Nine

Later that evening, Sydney slid beneath the covers, grinning to herself. Jeffrey was now at her house, in a bedroom not too far down the hall. Their first meal together -- a

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sumptuous dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and apple pie, filled them up. The warm glow of conversation about everything from politics to family life connected them as well. As a nurse, she was an excellent reader of people, sensing their pain, not only on the surface, but also deep down. She sensed Jeffrey had that core of pain, even as he teased her and laughed with her. Something inside of her wanted to reach out and heal his pain, his need. Perhaps in doing so, she could still the pain and need in her own heart as well. Sighing, Sydney turned over, staring at black emptiness in her bedroom room. The more she got to know Jeffrey, the more she felt she liked him. Really liked him. She could sense the feeling was mutual, but for some reason he was holding back. Some remembered pain that kept him from involvement. She found herself fervently wishful that he was in bed with her now. Not only for the act itself. Though it would ease some of the sexual frustration she was experiencing lately. Mostly, just for the closeness of a relationship. As though a magic genie had heard her unuttered wish, Jeffrey appeared beside her, sleeping sound with a slight snore. Startled, Sydney narrowed her eyes. Was this an image or the real thing? He certainly seemed real enough. Regardless of whether the man was really in her bed or not, Sydney could not take her eyes off his face, or his lips, for that matter. They were kissable lips, thinking with a shiver how they’d feel on her face, and on her body. She took in the rest of him naked, under the sheet and wet her lips as she allowed her eyes to travel down his chest, with its light coating of hair, to the rim of the sheet itself. Beneath that sheet was a noticeable bulge. She found herself very aroused at the vision of a naked, hard, Jeffrey Dillon in her bed. Her nipples grew sensitive as they brushed against her satin gown. She felt moisture pool between her legs and she realized the depths of her need for him. She swallowed hard, somewhat bemused by her sudden boldness. Sliding out of her gown and beneath the sheet next to him, her body against his, feeling his warmth against her skin. She wondered, for a moment, if she might wake him. Then she realized she did not care if she did. Her desire for him was just too strong. She rubbed his chest gently and then maneuvered her hand down to his stomach. The feel of the skin and muscle beneath her fingers roused her further and with boldness driven by desire, she slid her hand beneath the sheet and gently caressed his erection. She moved to cup the weight and soft flesh of his balls, wondering how it would feel to have them against her bottom as he thrust inside her. She released her hold and allowed her fingers to roam and play in his course pubic hair. Jeffrey let out a soft moan and stirred, unconsciously shifting to provide her better access. Sydney encircled his manhood and stroked with soft affection. He grew in her hand, his moans becoming louder and more frequent. She let go and pulled the sheet back to expose him. His hard-on was magnificent and she slid her hand up and down the shaft, stopping at the top only to allow her thumb to trace the ridge of his pink crown. Eyes still closed, Jeffrey began to pump against her hand. His hips rose off the bed with each stroke.

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Sydney’s desire to have him within her overpowered her conscience. She moved one leg over his waist to straddle him, while she reached down between her legs and, taking hold of his hardness, guided it inside her. She paused as the velvet hardness moved between her wet, swollen lips, only to tease herself by delaying the inevitable. When she could stand it no longer, she slid down, allowing his thickness to enter her fully. Jeffrey’s eyes opened as a smile crossed his lips. He reached out and took hold of her hips, thrusting deeper inside her. Sydney took all he had, until she felt the soft flesh of his balls against her bottom. Eager and impatient, she rode him with a savage passion. The signs of an explosive orgasm drove her rhythm, urging her to take him as deep as possible. Sydney gasped. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, ready to be swept away by her climax. Tremendous pain appeared, to replace extreme pleasure, and Sydney opened her eyes in shock. Still naked, but instead of love on a comfortable bed, she found herself on a salt-covered wooden floor on her knees, her hands bound behind her. Her bare knees were raw and the salt only tormented her wounds. Confused and disoriented, Sydney tried to focus. She was cold, tied up and her knees were killing her. She took a few deep breaths and tried to convince herself that this was all a dream. People didn’t just go from passionate love to being bound, naked, on a wooden floor in real life, did they? This was too damned real for a dream or vision. She swallowed as she scanned her surroundings. She was in a poorly lit room with the smell of sweat and urine assaulting her. She saw a table with a body on it, whether male or female, she couldn’t discern. “Is someone here?” Sydney hated the nervous note in her voice. “What’s going on? Why am I here?” Then she heard a male chuckle that iced her blood. “Damn it, tell me who you are and what you want with me!” Sydney forced all of her bravado into her voice. She wished she knew where the hell she was; maybe she would not feel so helpless and defenseless. “Shut your mouth, wench, or it’ll be filled with one of my boys.” A deep, harsh voice responded. “They’re dying to put some meat into you anyways.” Sydney was shocked into silence at the words. She swallowed, trying to get rid of her fear, fear that was running rampant throughout her body. She heard footsteps approach from behind her. She tensed as she sensed the presence of a man. She felt a boot on her back, forcing her upper body to the floor. She tried to struggle, crying out as the salt drove deeper into her wounded knees. “You must be taught a lesson for your whorish act.” The voice was matter-of-fact, but it brooked no refusal. Sydney tried anyway. “What the hell are you talking about, and who are you, anyway?” she cried out. The answer came as a sharp sting of pain from a whip licked across her back. She screamed and jerked. “Now, wench, it be best if ye don’t speak unless granted to, unless ye be reminded with another stroke of the lash…Tis understood?”

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Sydney choked on her sobs and nodded her head to acknowledge. “Very good then.” The voice gloated in triumph. “We can get on with business. Since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you would bring a good price. I will not lose my profit due to any, shall we say, itches you need scratched.” What the fuck is this maniac talking about. “Ahh, I sense your confusion, wench. Do you deny parting your legs and freely giving away your pleasures?” “You’re out of your mind!” she shrieked. The lash returned to spread fire across her back. She screamed as though she would never stop. The blood from the lashes dripped down like a warm trail. Sydney was on the verge of fainting, when water splashed over her to revive her and the pain. She heard the evil chuckle again and though her eyes were downcast, boots stopped in front of her face. She did not dare look up at this thing that tormented her. “Now, my sweet, do I have your attention?” The boots began to pace, but Sydney kept her head down. “Let me explain a few things,” her tormenter told her. “You, my dear, are my bloodline, my property. I can use, sell, or kill you whenever I feel. As I said, I believe that you will bring a good price. Matter of fact, I already have a buyer for you. I will not have you doing as you please. You, wench -- need to be shown, and for your sake, learn from this example.” What --? She didn’t dare voice her confusion for fear of the lash. Hauled to her feet and dragged to the table to view a beautiful young girl, naked and eyes filled with tears. Sydney’s first instinct was to comfort the stricken girl, but as though sensing her intent, the tormenter yanked her bound arms. She let out a cry of pain. “This one has been very, very naughty.” His voice was hot in her ear. Sydney bit back a sob. “I am forced to chastise her. I hoped that she would have learned from her earlier punishments, but she did not. Now she will teach you an example. Unless you learn from it, her fate will be yours. Have your way with her, mates!” The last was bellowed. Before Sydney’s astounded eyes, several men appeared from the shadows. On their lusty faces, greed as they gathered around the table to tear off the young woman’s clothing. The fear in her eyes tore at Sydney’s heart. She opened her mouth to scream, to comfort, to do something, but was paralyzed, she could do nothing. She could only stand there watching as the group of men raped the helpless female. Sydney gasped, closing her eyes to the raucous laughter and the woman’s screams at the hands of the men. All was silent. She opened her eyes, stunned to find herself in Mr. Brown’s room. Two figures on the bed were asleep, and Sydney shook her head, as though to clear it. What the hell --? Mr. Brown’s eyes popped open. He sat up straight in bed. Sydney had known the elderly man for years. She had always known him to be kind and even-tempered, never showing much emotion or upset.

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Now fear had entered his deep brown eyes as they drifted to Sydney in the corner, and passed right over her. She realized he couldn’t see her. Why should he be able to see her, this was a vision, wasn’t it? Wasn’t this whole thing a vision? Keep telling yourself that, Syd. “What is it, dear?” Mrs. Brown, awakened by her spouse’s movements, sat up and looked at him, concerned. Sydney, with concern, noticed the man was petrified. He did not answer his wife. His body trembled and his face beaded with sweat. “Baby, what is it? Is you all right? Do I needs to get the doctor?” Mrs. Brown was alarmed and that must have reached him. He turned to her with a sick smile and rested a hand on her arm. “I don’ts believe a doctor can help, love. It’s the Captain. He’s back. If’n ever he was away.” Mrs. Brown drew away and gasped in a harsh fashion. The two sat in a tense silence for a long moment, and Sydney wondered who this Captain was and why he would frighten this nice, old couple so much. “Is he free?” Mrs. Brown’s voice trembled, but her husband shook his head. “No I don’t thinks so. He’s been stirred and I feels his anger. I thinks it’s that Mr. Dillon. Him and his gift. He’s aware of it, buts he don’t quite know what to do with it.” He took a deep breath and tried to smile at his wife. “Miss Sydney also has the gift, but she don’t knows it yet.” Gift? Sydney wanted to scream. What gift? What in the hell were they talking about? “What will we do?” “Just as be’ foe. Only what we needs to.” With that cryptic comment, Mr. Brown rose from the bed and left the room to go to the bathroom. “I sure hopes that Mr. Dillon don’t gets too curious,” he said on his way out. Sydney turned her attention back to Mrs. Brown, startled to see her eyes rimmed with fear and anger. With a sudden, almost savage gesture, Mrs. Brown threw the covers from the bed, climbed out, walking to the corner of the room. She pulled back a set of drapes to disclose an altar, a few totems, and many candles. She lit the candles and a few incense burners. She dropped to her knees, beginning to chant as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Sydney herself slipped into confused darkness by Mrs. Brown’s trembling voice.

Chapter Ten

The wonderful aroma of fried bacon and fresh brewed coffee stirred Jeffrey to consciousness. His mind was still groggy from the lack of any real sleep, but his

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stomach had other ideas and tormented him until his lids fluttered open. He sat up when he spotted a blurred vision of a woman being brutally abused. Again, the scene invaded his mind’s eye. He had seen it yesterday, before dinner. Those same awful visions had galloped through his dreams for much of the entire night. He gently threw his legs over the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands to concentrate on the vision; he wanted desperately to bring it into focus. He could make out a naked woman. Her dress ripped from her body, laid on a table, her head moving in anguish from side to side. She was tormented by a man, who used savage thrusts into her. The man smiled, clearly enjoying the pain he was inflicting on this helpless woman. Jeffrey watched in self-loathing and horror. The violation of the woman upset his ability to watch, yet not to turn away was even worse. He had had enough. This was not his kind of spectator sport. “Leave her alone! Get off her, you bastard!” he yelled. The man continued his assault, while giving a sideways glance at Jeffrey to sneer. The vision vanished. Jeffrey found himself still sitting on the side of his bed. Someone knocked at the door. “Mr. Dillon, is yous alright?” It was Mr. Brown. “Do you needs some help?” Jeffrey cleared his throat, trying to speak, cleared his throat again. “I’m fine, Mr. Brown,” he said. “Just a bad dream. I’ll be out in a minute.” Mr. Brown hesitated for a moment. “Yes sir,” he finally said. “I just wants to let you know breakfast is ready when yous ready.” “Thank you.” Jeffrey heard the other man’s footsteps walk away. He stepped out of bed. His leg, he noticed, was not quite as stiff and painful today. He decided to leave the crutches behind, at least, for a time. He decided to wait on a shower as his stomach was clamoring for breakfast, now. Jeffrey opened the doors of the library, entering the foyer to follow his nose toward the scrumptious smells, and in a moment came into a large, bright kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Brown were both there. Jeffrey remembered meeting Mrs. Brown from the night before, but she had been shy in his presence. Now, this morning, her eyes slid over him; she seemed worried as well, and Jeffrey wondered if anything had happened the night before. “Miss Sydney is having her breakfast on the patio. She requests that you join her,” Mr. Brown said. “Mr. Brown, I’d love to have my breakfast on the patio with Sydney.” “Very good, sir. Shall I brings it to you?” Jeffrey smiled. He could see why Sydney would feel uncomfortable, being waited on hand and foot like this. “No, I can manage, but thanks.” “Coffee’s on the table out there,” Mrs. Brown ventured, coming up with a plate filled with hot eggs, crisp bacon, and toast. Jeffrey’s mouth watered as his stomach growled in anticipation. He nodded his head to her in acknowledgement, and was rewarded with a small smile. “A feast, ma’am,” he told her, with a grin. “Thank you.” “Aw, Mr. Jeffrey.” She preened, obviously pleased. “‘It's no trouble, I can promise you.” She handed the plate to him and he stepped out the back door, onto the spacious

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patio. His heart beat a little faster as he eyed Sydney, sipping a cup of coffee. Her beautiful eyes peered back at him. In between the horrible dreams of young women being taken against their will were the great dreams of him and Sydney. Together, making each other feel pretty damn good. Jeffrey flushed at the memory of those more enjoyable dreams, telling his suddenly interested hard-on to calm down. “Well, good morning, sleepy head,” Sydney said. “I thought that we would be having lunch by the time you got up. How’s the leg? And how did you sleep?” Jeffrey sat at the table, poured himself a cup of java, taking a sip. He sighed in pure pleasure as the heated caffeine hit his stomach. “Morning to you too, the leg is feeling better,” he told her. “As you can see, I have left the crutches behind today. As for sleeping so late…” He shook his head as the disturbing visions flooded his memories. “I had some strange dreams. That will be the last time I wash down painkillers with alcohol.” Sydney’s eyes went blank with a suddenness that startled Jeffrey. She began to shake appearing to be in a trance-like state. Frightened, he put his hand on her shoulder. She seemed unaware of his touch. He shook her gently wondering what the hell what was going on. “Sydney? You okay? Hello! Is anybody in there?” A moment passed and her eyelids fluttered. Recognition dawned in her eyes as she smiled at him wanly. “Oh. Hi again, Jeffrey. Sorry about that. I was lost in thought.” He shook his head, bemused. “Must’ve been some thought. You were really out there.” “I had some pretty strange dreams myself.” Her cheeks flushed, and she was unable to meet Jeffrey’s eyes. Jeffrey, ever the observant journalist, wondered what else was going on. “Sydney, are you sure everything is all right?” “Yes, yes. It’s fine. Just… Just a little hot flash.” His eyebrow rose questioning and she giggled. “Never mind.” “Well, good. At least you’re laughing now. Different from that look before. So, Nurse Yearling. What is on the agenda for today?” He wanted, very badly, for him to be on her agenda. He begged her in his mind to say it, but was disappointed. “Well, I’m headed to the hospital to check on a few things. Then, I will probably ask Tabby to go shopping.” Sydney treated him to her beautiful smile. “And you?” Jeffrey was disappointed. What did he expect? Just because he was there didn’t mean she needed to change her schedule. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I would like to browse through some of the old books in your library,” he said. “You are more than welcome to help yourself to anything in the house,” she said. “If you need something, just ask Mr. Brown.” Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry if I am being weird. My ex-husband was bad about keeping his thumb on me, and it irritated me to no end.” “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pour salt on an open wound.” She cringed, almost as though he’d hit her. “Sydney?” He was stunned by her reaction. She shuddered and closed her eyes. “Jeffrey, please. Do me a big favor and do not

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use that example again, okay?” “Sure.” He looked at her bewildered. She opened her eyes smiling at him, and something flipped over inside him. “Okay, I need to get to the hospital and make sure it hasn’t burned down. I’ll be back later, so stay out of trouble. If you can.” Jeffrey heaved a huge sigh. “The only trouble I would like to get into right now is a shower,” he acknowledged. She nodded. “Well, you’re in luck. You know there’s a fully stocked guest bathroom just down the hall from the library. I’ll tell Mr. Brown to make sure there are fresh towels in there, but otherwise, there’s a lot of soap and hot water. At least, there should be plenty of hot water...” She frowned as she broke off. Jeffrey’s curiosity was aroused at both the scowl and her hesitancy. He said nothing, just continued to sip his coffee. “Well.” She gave him a forced smile, rising to her feet brushing her skirt off. “I’d better get going; otherwise I’m likely not to come back.” “That would be a shame for us all,” he told her. She laughed, going into the house. Jeffrey’s eye lingered on her rear end appreciatively as she left. He barely acknowledged Mr. Brown, who stood beside him, with a coffee pot. “More coffee?” the elder man asked. “Huh? Oh.” Jeffrey was jostled out of his pleasant muse. “Uh, no thanks, Mr. Brown. I’m about ready to go take a shower, anyway.” Mr. Brown nodded. “Yes sir. Jes down the hall, to your right. I’s made sure there’s plenty a’ towels foe you there.” “Why thank you, Mr. Brown.” Jeffrey knew that this was a loyal old retainer to the family, who was courteous to everyone. Still, he was very touched. Taking the last sip of tepid coffee and with a nod to Mr. Brown, Jeffrey rose to his feet and winced a little, the leg still stiff. He made his way into the house, going to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes, and turned the knobs for the shower. He sighed in gratitude as he stepped under the cascade of water. It felt like pure heaven. Sure, he had sponge baths while in the hospital. He grinned at the memory: There were enough nurses who were all too willing to help there, he recalled. But you can’t beat a hot shower for feeling really clean. He sighed again as the water massaged and awakened his sore, tired body. The wound on his leg was healing nicely, with a little pink along the stitch line. The dark thin line of dried dead flesh was the only visible evidence of his injury. Still, he would have to be a little careful the next few days. He soaped up, burying his face in the spray of hot water to allow the warm water to rinse the soap from his body. He allowed his mind to drift, when a vision of a naked woman danced into his mind. A young, beautiful woman who was extremely frightened, it seemed. As he pulled back, in his mind’s eye, he saw the problem. Not only was she naked, she was tied to the posts of a huge bed, her arms stretched crucifixion style, and her legs spread wide apart. In his imagination, Jeffrey stood at the foot of the bed, seeing everything between her legs: The wetness of her inner lips and the darkness of her pink opening. Though this woman was in obvious discomfort, Jeffrey felt himself aroused at the vision.

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He saw a man come into the room. He was naked and erect; and without any of the preliminaries, he went to her, slid the head of his cock between her luscious lips, rubbing the pinkish crown of his head up and down between clitoris and opening. The woman writhed, her legs pulled at her bindings. Without warning, he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt. She moaned, but Jeffrey could not determine if it was from pleasure or pain. The man began to grind his pelvis against hers. Jeffrey could see her tremble. He watched with intent, unable to take his eyes away as the man pumped his thick, curved shaft in and out. He could tell, from the frenzied tempo of movements and the continued gasps of the woman beneath, that they were both close to orgasm. But the scene before him began to fade and blur. Despite his best efforts, he could not keep it in focus. Jeffrey found himself back in the shower. The water was getting cold, even while he stroked his hard-on. He laughed a little, embarrassed with himself and quickly rinsed off, stepping from the shower and drying himself off. As he dressed he replayed the events of the past few days over in his mind; from the incredible luck at receiving the grant, to his accident, to the visitation of his grandmother. Then there was this house and library. His grandmother he could pass off to drugs and pain. The weird vision in the library the day before, he could also put onto the painkillers. Even this morning’s little incident was probably nothing more than the typical erotic vision. Matter of fact, all these so-called events taken one at a time could be written off with some kind of explanation, but combined and occurring in such a short time had him puzzled. Combine it with Sydney’s peculiar reaction to his comment about his dream and... He stopped that train of thought right in its tracks. Come on, Jeffrey boy, you’ve let your imagination run away. He laughed at himself. He felt brave and curious. He decided to take another peek at Nathaniel Yearling’s books. Afterwards, he would go for a walk to get a little fresh air. It would do him good. He went back to the library. Sitting down at the desk he pulled the three books forward to him again, opening one of them, and began to study them with intent. The fresh air and long walk was forgotten as Jeffrey studied with fascinated disgust. The countless transactions of human commodities had appalled him. He simply could not figure out how one human being could sell another. Even worse, how these people were used and abused. The only concern of the good Captain, it seemed, was not the fact he was dealing in human flesh and misery. Rather it was his fear in being caught using the crown’s money to transport slaves while he skimmed a few of the slaves off the top for his own private enterprise. Jeffrey’s hunger brought him back to the present. He rubbed his eyes; glancing at the clock, he noticed it was lunchtime and he wondered why Mr. or Mrs. Brown had not called him. Then he shrugged. They weren’t at his beck and call. If they were not around, he could certainly put a sandwich together himself. Jeffrey rose to stretch, wincing at the stiffness of his leg. He would have to get used to that, he supposed. Even once these things healed, he knew, there would still be a little pain if he did not exercise it. Well, no problem there. He liked being active.

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Once in the kitchen, he rummaged through the refrigerator and pantry to finally settle on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Nothing like good ole peanut butter and jelly to satisfy the pallet of any gourmet,” he said aloud, snickering at himself. He figured talking out loud when no one was around could get him a one-way ticket to the funny farm, but he did not care. There was no one to hear. He settled in at the kitchen table to pour a glass of milk. He mimicked a wine taster as he sniffed the cap and swirled the milk. “Aroma is full bodied and unobtrusive, very nice color, good texture, leaving a thin film against the side of the glass,” he said, in the snootiest voice he could manage. He lifted the milk jug to scan the label and noted the expiration date. “Ooh! That’s a very good week.” He grinned at his whimsy, eating his sandwich with good appetite. As he drank his second glass of milk, he heard the voices. They were faint, coming from the dining room next door. He wondered if one of the Browns had left a television or radio on. Funny, he did not remember seeing either appliance in that room the night before. Jeffrey made his way to the kitchen door to peek through the crack. He pulled back as he saw a group of men mingling about. Jeffrey frowned. If Sydney had been expecting guests, he sure wished she would have mentioned something to him. Then he shrugged. It was her house; she could do whatever she damn well pleased. He looked through the doorway again, wondering about the guests. They were all men, for one thing. They were also dressed in period costume. He assumed it was period anyway. No one he knew wore velvet jackets, pantaloons or ruffled shirts. Jeffrey peered into the dining room again, his curiosity rampant. Whoever these guys were, they seemed to be having a hell of a good time as they puffed on fat cigars, talked and laughed. He could make out bits and pieces of conversations, things like “large profit, needing more whores, and if the Crown ever found out, we would be put to death.” He wondered what in the hell kind of friends Sydney had. Fast on the heels of that thought, another one came. These guys are from another century. Ghosts? Impossible! Jeffrey had to laugh at himself. He had spent most of his life in pursuit to research phenomenon such as what was in front of him now. Then, when it actually happened, he refused to believe it. Open your mind, he told himself, and stepped into the room. His presence was not noticed. Not that he could tell, as the party-like atmosphere was contagious. After a moment, he found himself chuckling at the various jokes and wisecracks tossed about. One of the men passed thru him. His head turned as he laughed at something a companion had shared in jest. The smile left Jeffrey’s face. An eerie cold gripped him and his hackles rose. “What the hell is going on here? And by the way, who are you guys?” he growled. The main dining room doors slid open. The man who stepped through froze Jeffrey in his tracks. Captain Nathaniel Yearling. Jeffrey was so full of muscle-numb fear at the presence of the evil Captain that if the house caught fire, he would burn to death. After everything he had read about the man this morning, he was stunned to be actually laying eyes on him. “A hearty greeting, one and all.”

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The Captain’s voice appeared welcoming to his guests. His eyes were cold as he stared at Jeffrey. Jeffrey swallowed his fear. How was it the Captain could see him, when no one else apparently could? With a final sneer in Jeffrey’s direction, the Captain directed the remainder of his remarks to the assembly. “I hope my hospitality is to your liking?” he asked with no real concern in his voice. “As always you are the perfect host!” one man proclaimed, as the others raised their glasses to concur. “What about a little sample of your goods?” a man in the back asked. A look of irritation crossed the Captain’s face at the bold request, while others turned to see who had the nerve to question the Captain’s hospitality. “He’ll be found floating face first in the James,” someone murmured. “Who brought him?” another quietly spoke. The whispers rustled through the crowd like dead leaves. Jeffrey felt his blood run cold at the Captain’s potential reaction. But Yearling was genial in the face of the tension. “As always, my friends, I will make sure you are entertained in ways your wives cannot,” he said. The Captain clapped his large hands together, six very pretty and very naked young women came in, lining up against the wall. Unlike the other women Jeffrey had seen in his visions, these seemed hungry, eager; their eyes darted about, tongues moistening their lips. “Ladies, take care of my guests and be sure none leave unhappy,” the Captain said in a friendly manner. “And gentlemen, remember. As always, no bruising the merchandise.” Chuckles amid the cheers broke out. The Captain stepped further into the room to mingle. The girls fanned out with some of the men taking quick advantage of the opportunity. After only a few moments, Jeffrey, to his astonishment, was being treated to a 17th century orgy, which made the porno shows of the present time seem almost tame. Unable to tear his eyes away from the apparitions, Jeffrey watched the show. One woman knelt between two men, a cock in both hands, sucking from one, then the other. Another kneeled, doggy style, one cock buried deep in her, another filling her mouth. Two women were in a sixty-nine position. The one on top licked the pussy under her companion, while being fucked from behind. The combination of the moans, gasps and giggles, along with the incredible visions in front of him, had their usual effect on Jeffrey. Despite everything, he felt himself begin to stir. He had to work like hell not to touch himself. Not here… Something warned him off from the orgy, even in his imagination. Jeffrey turned his attention from the sexual activities playing out in front of him to the Captain, who had made his way to a fellow who stood alone in the corner. “Not partaking in my hospitality?” the Captain asked him. The man shook his head and smiled. “I prefer to indulge in private. But thank you, Sir.” “Of course, Victor, I know this.” Yearling slipped an arm around the man’s

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shoulders. “I saved a nice, sweet young redhead for your pleasures. You may select anywhere in the house to indulge.” The man bobbed his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Captain. Your generosity is renowned.” Yearling kept the smile on his face. Jeffrey felt his blood begin to turn cold. “By the way, tell me about the gentleman there who asked about the free samples.” Both men’s attention, as well as Jeffrey’s, turned toward the gentleman in question, who was laid on his back, mouth open, as one of the women licked and rubbed his erection. Victor sighed and shook his head. “I humbly apologize for his manner, Captain. I brought him. He’s my brother-in-law from the Northern colonies.” “Mmm-hmm. Well, Victor. I will tell you this much. If he casts aspersions on my hospitality again in public, I will have his entrails fed to the hogs, along with yours. Furthermore, I will have your pretty wife and your two beautiful young daughters in here, sucking these fine associates of ours. Do we understand each other?” Jeffrey could see the man shrink at the Captain’s words, and spared a moment of pity for him. “Ah, of course Captain,” he said with a stammer. “I will remedy the situation. Please have no worries about that.” “Good. I knew I could count on you, Victor. Now, do not forget about that redhead I have for you. She will be waiting in the guest bedroom, upstairs.” As the Captain stepped toward the door to leave, he turned. With the others so involved in the mass orgy, Jeffrey was certain he was the only one to see the contemptible smirk on Yearling’s lips. “Gentlemen, I must take your leave to attend to other affairs,” the Captain called out. “I thank you all for coming. Please continue to enjoy my hospitality. You may place your orders with my First Mate.” There was little response to the man’s words; everyone was too busy. With a ferocious grin, Captain Yearling stepped from the room. As he did so, the entire scene vanished with him. The dining room was empty, and quiet. Jeffrey turned, shaken, and went back to the library, switching on the computer there. He remembered he still had his password from his job. For several hours, he accessed the research material locked up in the electronic archives. Amazed at his discoveries, he wrote an email to the Institute of Paranormal Investigations & Research in the United Kingdom, with an outline of his visions and encounters. This particular research group had more online material than others, seeming to offer winning the honor to receive Jeffrey’s correspondence. Before he sent the email, he read it, shaking his head in dismay, convinced they would think he was nuts. Jeffrey sat for a long while and debated with himself. Send? Or delete? Then the hair on the back of his neck rose, the air chilled and he could make out a faint voice. Kill the wench. The bitch is untrainable. “The choice is made. Send.”

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Chapter Eleven

Sydney and Tabatha entered the house full of laughter, looking like two girls who spent their day at the beach instead of work. “Afternoon Miss Sydney, and you too, Miss Knolls.” Mr. Brown greeted them in friendly fashion, and Sydney returned the smile. “Afternoon to you, Mr. Brown. I am sorry for not calling first. Tabby is eating over and staying the night.”

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The man bowed his head. “That’s alright Miss, you know the missus loves Miss Knolls, and she always cooks too much. I’ll make sure her room is ready.” Sydney shook her head. Did nothing faze the man? She had already installed a very single, very eligible guy in the library. Mr. Brown simply took it all in stride. Speaking of which…. “How is Jeffrey doing?” Sydney asked. She tried to keep her voice casual, but could not stop the beat of her heart as she spoke his name. Even though she had managed to keep busy all day, her mind continued to stray to the guest in her home. She realized that home was more pleasant with Jeffrey around. Tabatha grinned at her, because she heard the lovesick tone in her voice. Sydney scowled back. “He’s in the library, been there for hours,” Mr. Brown spoke in bland fashion. “Forgives my boldness, ma’am, but I believe Mr. Jeffrey needs some fresh air instead of locking his self away in there.” “Hmm.” Sydney considered for a moment. “Well, he will come out when he’s ready. In the meantime, Tabby and I will have a little drink.” “It took you long enough to suggest that,” her friend blurted. “The usual, Miss Sydney?” Mr. Brown spoke and ignored Tabatha’s rudeness. Sydney grinned. “No… Thank you, Mr. Brown. We’ll serve ourselves tonight.” “Yessum. I’ll go see on supper.” “By the way… Why don’t you and Mrs. Brown take the rest of the night off?” Sydney said. “Just tell Mrs. Brown to leave the food on the stove and we’ll serve ourselves.” Mr. Brown bobbed his head again and without another word, went towards the kitchen. “Well, I believe I will freshen up,” Tabatha said as she marched off towards the bathroom. Sydney walked toward the kitchen, passing the library on the way. The door was closed. For a moment, Sydney was tempted to knock, just to hear his voice. Then she hesitated, wondering about her feelings for this man; this familiar, yet unfamiliar stranger. She sighed and made her way to the kitchen, guided by the aroma of stew on the stovetop. Mrs. Brown smiled at her as she entered the kitchen. “Dinner is ready, ma’am. You simply need to serve yourselves. Leave the dishes. The Mr. and I’ll take care of ‘em in the mornin’.” “Thanks, Mrs. Brown.” Sydney was overwhelmed with a sudden rush of inexplicable emotion. “You’re too good to me. You both are.” The older woman smiled. “Well, we both thoughts the world of your aunt and your mum. We were here to protect and serve ‘em, so is no problem, Miss.” She nodded her head and left the kitchen. Sydney frowned after her, wondering at her choice of words. Protect. Why protect? What gives there? Before she could follow that thought, Tabatha bound into the room. “Where the hell is that martini, Syd? I’m dying of thirst!” “Patience!” Sydney said, bursting into laughter. She went to the counter to mix their drinks, handing Tabby hers. Tabatha clicked her glass against Sydney’s and smiled. “So, have you bedded the gentleman in yon chamber yet?”

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“Tabby!” Sydney spoke, while a sudden image of her vision from the night before flooded her brain. She felt herself flush. Tabatha laughed. “You know, I’ve never seen you blush like that before, Syd. Kinda becomes you. So? What gives with the patient?” “Nothing.” Sydney sank down in a seat next to the table with a sigh. “He’s injured, I am horny, that is probably the way it’s going to stay. He is simply not interested.” “Bullshit.” Tabby took the seat next to her. “I saw how he looked at you at one point, like a starved man with a fresh steak. You’re just too close to the situation.” “Oh, really? Tell me you’ve patched things with Greg, and I’ll take relationship advice from you.” “I wonder what his cock feels like.” Tabatha batted her eyes as she spoke. Sydney laughed. “Whose? Jeffrey’s? Or Greg’s?” “Oh, I’ve seen Greg’s.” Tabatha waved her empty glass around in the air. Sydney snagged it, went to the counter, mixing another martini for both of them. “It’s skinny. So I nick-named him Slim Jim.” “Not to his face, I hope?” Sydney returned to the table with her friend’s drink. Tabby grabbed it, sipping with apparent thirst. “Hell no! Are you nuts?” she said. “I told him he was hung like a horse and at times I could barely take it all. Boy, that was a mistake. For a month, all I heard during sex was ‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’ Once I almost started laughing, it was so funny.” “Why, hello ladies.” Sydney jumped at the sound of Jeffrey’s deep, masculine voice, wondering at the sudden hops her stomach took as she laid eyes on him. He smiled in meaningful fashion. Sydney wondered how much of the conversation he had heard. His eyes met hers, only to clash briefly. She felt a tingle encompass her entire body. “Look, Tabby, the hermit has left his cave finally,” Sydney said, while trying to keep her voice light and playful. “Jeffrey, you remember Tabby, don’t you?” Jeffrey turned to Tabatha and smiled. “Of course I do. How could I forget such a beautiful vision?” “Oh, Sydney.” Tabatha fluttered her eyelashes. “He’s not only handsome, but he has perfect eyesight, too.” “He’s also full of shit,” Sydney said, followed by a chuckle. “Now, now, Miss Yearling, let’s not get ugly,” Jeffrey replied, adding a grin for her. Their eyes met again and Sydney felt suddenly sorry for herself. Why she had invited Tabatha home with her? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she realized she wanted Jeffrey to herself tonight, with no interference whatsoever. “Would you like a drink?” Sydney asked. “As long as I’m not intruding. You two sounded like you were talking about some personal stuff.” Just how much had he heard, Sydney wondered, flushing as she recalled her and Tabby’s conversation. Jeffrey continued. “I could just take my meal and eat it elsewhere.” “Oh stop,” Tabatha giggled Sydney realized the other woman was well on her way to being toasted. “Park your butt down on a seat, Dillon. We are just rehashing the past. You know, kinda like raising the dead.”

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Though Tabatha’s comment had been innocent, Sydney was not prepared for Jeffrey’s reaction. He had been on his way to the chair, when he stopped to stare at the other woman, almost as though she’d said something offensive. Sydney cleared her throat. “Take a seat, Jeffrey. You want to try alcohol on top of painkillers again tonight, or just juice?” Jeffrey pulled out a chair and sat down. “Better make it juice. I did not have to take any painkillers today, but after the dreams I had last night...” He trailed off, but he still looked disturbed. “Juice it is.” Sydney tried to keep her conversation lighthearted, sensing some sort of strange karma from Jeffrey. He was worried, she realized. She did not know about what though. “By the way, there’s stew on the stove. I told the Browns to take the night off, so we’ll just serve ourselves. Jeffrey, do you want any?” “What about me?” Tabatha pouted. Sydney chuckled. “You can serve yourself. Your problem is inebriation, not a car wreck and a head wound. I think you’re a good enough nurse to know the difference.” Jeffrey and Tabatha laughed at her comment. Sydney was relieved to see the worry leave Jeffrey’s eyes. She was very surprised at herself. Sydney ladled out a bowl of stew for Jeffrey and even one for Tabatha, despite her earlier comments. Then, getting one for herself, she sat at the table. The three began to eat and drink. The day moved toward dusk, then the velvet dark of evening, the three sat, talked, drank, ate and laughed. The topics they discussed were random: Comparing notes about family, places they’d lived, jobs they’d had, and even politics. Jeffrey’s presence somehow seemed to make it all so different. She'd had Tabby over before, but for the first time, Sydney realized how settled she felt in a man’s presence. Tabatha looked up at the clock above the stove and snorted. “Damn,” she said, her words slurred. "Midnight already. We’ve talked the night away. Well, I am going to bed now, I feel really tired.” Wobbling a little, Tabatha stood. Sydney was on her feet instantly, but Tabby waved her away. “You okay?” Sydney was doubtful. “I do not need to be nursing another head wound just now.” She glanced at Jeffrey just in time to see him stick his tongue out at her. She grinned back. “I’m fine.” Tabby drew a cloak of drunken offense around her. “F’godsake, Syd. I’m not driving. I’m just...just going to my room.” She stood for a moment, confused, then her face cleared. “Okay.” She spoke in confidence. “I remember where it is. Well, good night ya’ll, I’ll see you in the morning.” Tabatha stumbled out of the kitchen. Sydney could tell, from the various bumps and curse words, her progress through the hallway and up the stairs. When she heard the door of the guest room slam shut, she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to Jeffrey, who regarded her in amusement. “The nurse is still on duty, I see,” he said, with no sting in his words, only admiration. Sydney was taken aback. “I guess.” She focused on the glass on the table in front of her so she would not have to look at him. “It’s not a habit I can turn on and off when I leave the hospital.”

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“No, I do not suppose that is the case, is it? I have seen you at the hospital. You really care about your patients and people.” “All nurses do, Jeffrey. That’s our job.” “I know.” He took a sip of his drink. “But you do it like you mean it. It is more than a job to you. You do not just go through the motions. Hell, I am not explaining this very well, am I?” “Well.” She shrugged and sipped at her glass. “I like what I do. I enjoy nursing. Always have.” “I guessed that.” A silence descended and Sydney groped for words to break it. She wanted to desperately let Jeffrey know how she felt. “So you grew up in this house?” Jeffrey’s question came suddenly. “I did not really grow up here,” she said. “But I did spend most of my summers here. We always visited during the holidays. My aunt loved to entertain. She always had people over and many stayed the night.” Jeffrey mumbled something. Sydney looked up at him. An air of concern surrounded him as he looked at her. This bothered her. “I did not hear you,” she said. “I said she probably liked showing off her home.” Sydney shrugged. “Yeah maybe, I think she just liked having people around. After my uncle died, she broke down. They loved each other so much; she was desolate without him. Some said she was out of her mind. Somehow, she pulled herself together. That’s when she started entertaining.” “She never remarried? Sydney shook her head. “No. My dad, her brother, brought the subject up once, and an argument broke out. They did not speak to each other for over a year after that. I remember that fight, actually. It took place in the library. I was about eight. All I can remember were loud voices coming through the door. Dad told her that this place needed to be sold or burned, and she needed to get on with her life. She could not and should not hang on to the past or the ghosts in this place. Aunt Josephine screamed back that this was our family plantation and that she would not be run off.” Sydney felt a sudden twinge of nostalgia. She missed her aunt. “Well, she got her wish. No one ran her off. She died on her plantation.” “The plantation was founded by Captain Nathaniel Yearling, right?” “Yes,” Sydney said, regarding him curiously. “My ancestor.” “Did your aunt tell you at all about him?” Jeffrey said. “Give you any of the family’s history?” “Jeffrey, why all the questions?” Sydney wanted to know. He smiled sheepish. “Just curious, I guess. Reporter’s instinct to snoop. I love when people can trace their lineage to some three hundred-year-old ancestor. I, on the other hand, cannot get much past my great grandparents.” Something about his explanation did not sound right, or did not feel right. But Sydney let it go. “No,” she said. “As I think about it now, Aunt Josephine did not give much detail about the Captain, other than he dealt with commodities. He probably did a lot of trading, too. I believe that’s how he got all this land. He traded a shipment of cargo for

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it, and built the plantation.” “Hmm.” Jeffrey was silent for a moment as he considered how much more he wanted to say. He gazed at her with serious brown eyes. “This is off the subject, but have you experienced anything…well weird while being in this house?” Sydney thought about the strange dreams, the hot water turning cold, and the odd sensations that she was watched. “What do you mean, weird?” she asked, surprised her voice didn’t shake. “Like weird dreams, the feeling you are being watched, the temperature drops, visions -- that type of thing.” How the hell did he know? Sydney’s suspicions were aroused. Almost as though he could sense her thoughts, he smiled. “I guess your wondering what my interest in all this is,” Jeffrey said. “It’s just that, since I have been here, in Virginia that is, I’ve had some…” Jeffrey broke off and flushed, almost guilty. “Jeffrey? What is it?” “You’re going to think I’m nuts, but while I was in the hospital, recovering from that crash, I saw spirits.” “Spirits.” Sydney repeated him. The man is nuts. “Yes. While in recovery, I saw people walking around. I called out to them, hoping to get some water, but no one responded. After I settled in my hospital room, I saw my long-dead grandmother, who told me that the people I had called out to were folks who had died in the hospital, who were trapped here. On a spiritual plane. She told me I have the ability to see and hear those earth-bound spirits.” “Uh-huh.” Sydney could not keep the skepticism out of her voice. Jeffrey ignored her, continuing. “While here, in this house, I have felt drastic temperature drops, heard voices and had visions.” That got her attention, and she looked at him with narrow eyes. “What do you mean, visions?” Jeffrey gestured. “Visions. People having conversations, despite the fact no one except me was in the room. Watching people do strange things...” He broke off. Sydney wondered what types of “things” he meant. He took a deep breath as he continued. “Sydney, I told you at one point that just before arriving here I worked as an investigative reporter for a magazine that reported paranormal activities. What has happened to me here resembles the many stories I’ve researched. I think something unnatural is happening in this house.” Sydney burst into laughter. It was a relieved laugh. She did not miss the hurt on Jeffrey’s face at her reaction. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not trying to make fun of you, Jeffrey. But what you’re telling me is pretty common with a head trauma, some type of shock to the system, or heavy pain medications. You have experienced all three.” He didn’t dispute her statement, but looked at her with a thoroughness that made her uncomfortable. “Do you believe in a supreme being?” he asked. “If you’re referring to God, then yes, I do.” Sydney wondered where this line of questioning was headed. “If you believe in God, then you have to believe in Satan. You know the ole tragedy clowns, ying and yang, good and evil.” “Jeffrey, one does not necessarily follow the other.”

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“Just let me finish, Syd, and you can shoot down my arguments all you want, okay? The Bible tells us that God himself visited individuals here on earth, Jesus rose from the dead, Lazarus rose from the dead, and the dead shall rise. There are many examples in the bible where the dead moved among the living. Even outside the Bible, there are reams and reams of carefully researched, written materials and theories stating that there is a realm between the living and the dead, and this barrier can be crossed, but only if there is an anchor point for them to hold on to.” “Such as?” “An object, unfinished business or a person.” Sydney sat in silence for a moment to digest his words. “So you’re suggesting that there is some spirit in this house that has unfinished business with someone around here?” She could not keep the skepticism out of her voice. This conversation was really beginning to piss her off. Part of it, she realized, was that she was viewing the real Jeffrey for the first time. She feared he might be like her ex-husband. Instead of getting his jollies on alcohol and abuse, Jeffrey got off on flights of fancy. Then again, why had she pinned such hopes on him? She never really had gotten to know him... She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “So tell me, Jeffrey Dillon. What does all this talk about spooks have to do with anything?” Jeffrey stared down at the table for a long time before he looked up at her. His face was pale, his eyes scared, as he asked, “Have you read any of the Captain’s journals?” “No. I never really snooped around the library.” “Well, I did. I found three books, the ships’ logs, the shipping manifest logs, and the Captain’s personal journal.” “And what did you find, Mr. Investigative reporter?” Sydney could not keep the edge out of her voice at his words. How dare he snoop in her library? Then again, hadn’t she given him permission to do so, just this morning? So why was she so nervous about what he might have found in there? “The Captain was not a pleasant fellow, for one thing. For another, his entire fortune was made off the slave trade.” “What?” Sydney’s voice raised several octaves. Jeffrey nodded, his eyes remained fixed on hers. “Not only that, he skimmed off the youngest and prettiest women, selling them as prostitutes, sex slaves for men opening the frontier. He kept his own personal stock also, which he rotated regularly. He would mark these woman off as dying at sea, receive the money for lost goods from England, then make more money by reselling them. He was fearful, all right; fearful the Crown would catch him in this scam, and there’s more, Sydney. The Captain took care of his enemies very simply. He made them disappear, forcing their wives and daughters into bondage. The ones that did not conform were given to his men as toys, and were ultimately killed. They did not die very nicely.” Suddenly, Sydney rose to her feet, with anger driving. “You do not know what the hell you’re talking about! My family and my ancestors, as far back as we know have all been God-fearing Christians. That head wound must really be in need of some healing because...” “There’s more.” The quiet tone of his voice, more than the words, stopped Sydney’s rant, and she stared at him. “I believe the Captain is still here in this house. Physically he’s dead, but his spirit

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lives on. It continues to attack the women who live or come here to visit. I believe that your mother and aunt were both attacked. That is why your aunt entertained so much, and why your father insisted she sell this place. What I cannot figure out is why she refused, but I never knew her. I also think you’ve been touched by the Captain, but you may not have realized it.” Sydney sank down into her chair, her breaths came hard. I’m really not believing what he’s telling me, am I? she asked herself. Then she thought about the erotic dreams she’d had. They had been too real, the feeling of being watched. The cold water in the shower... “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that the Captain was an evil man and that his ghost is still in this house, raping us in our dreams?” Sydney struggled for calm rationality in the face of her fear, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. Jeffrey took her hand. “Not only in your dreams,” he said with a voice low. “He can attack at any time. I have had visions of women being brutally raped, orgies taking place in the main dining room, people being killed...” He swallowed, tightening his grip on her hand. “I took the liberty of sending an email to an institution in England that studies these types of things. I hope that they can maybe explain what’s going on.” A sudden spurt of anger replaced the cold fear that had already engulfed Sydney, and she snatched her hand back from his grip. “You went ahead and shared my family’s secrets with some strangers in England?” She stared at him, appalled. How could she have been attracted to a man who would drag her family’s name in the dust like this? “How dare you contact outsiders to look into my family’s past without asking me first? How dare you!” Sydney realized she had boiled to a fine rage, fighting to calm down. “You have shared your beliefs about my family, now here’s my belief about you. You sustained a head trauma. You have been prescribed some pretty potent painkillers. I think that, between all of the above and that paranormal background of yours; you are delusional. You are seeing things.” His face was white and strained. He tried to speak, but she cut him short. “My father and aunt loved this place. I never heard a bad word come out of either of their mouths about our family’s history!” “Sydney...” “Shut up, Jeffrey. This is a terrible breach of hospitality. I brought you here, into my home, not just to recoup, but because I thought maybe...” She broke off suddenly, aware she was about to reveal her attraction to him. She could not do that, not now. Not ever. Not after he betrayed her trust and her family. Why am I so angry? A little voice inside her spoke up. Is it because maybe what he has said to you has an actual ring of truth? Sydney stifled that voice, facing Jeffrey, her fists clenched. “I think it would be best if you moved on now,” she said while she maintained her dignity. “If you are well enough to snoop into areas that do not concern you, to send lies to strangers, then you are well enough to leave.” “They aren’t lies, Sydney. I can show you right now.” She turned her head, unable to look at him. She did not want him to see the tears in her eyes. The fact, she had been ready to give her heart to a man who would betray her family. “I’m not such an ogre. You can have a couple of days, if you need them, to get ready to go.”

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“Thanks, but I’ll pack my things in the morning.” He spoke in a defeated tone. “Fine, whatever you think is best,” Sydney said. “Good night, Mr. Dillon.” “Good night, Miss Yearling. I hope you have sweet and safe dreams.” Without any eye contact, she turned and left the room.

Chapter Twelve

A loud scream brought Jeffrey out of the half-hearted doze he had managed to obtain. He laid, all discombobulated. Again, he heard the cry. Sharp, piercing and petrified. A female voice, and it came from a room upstairs. “Sydney!” Jeffrey bolted from his bed in the library, grabbed his robe, pelting up the stairs, barely feeling the stiffness or ache of his leg. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, belted his robe shut, looking wildly around for the source of the cry, wondering which room was Sydney’s. He heard a struggle from the room at the end of the hall. As he started toward it,

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another door burst open. Sydney stumbled out. She tied her own bathrobe around her slender waist, her hair mussed, eyes still dazed with sleep and fear. “It’s Tabatha,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. Jeffrey was relieved for a moment that it was not Sydney in trouble, but that relief turned to concern for Sydney’s friend. As one, they raced down the hall and arrived at the guest room door. Sydney knocked on the door, then pounded. “Tabby!” she cried. A moan greeted her efforts. Sydney tried to open the door. While the knob turned, the door would not budge. They heard Tabatha’s voice, high and frightened. She was begging him to stop hurting her... “He?” Sydney’s eyes were wide. Jeffrey looked at her, having no doubt who he was. Petrified for Tabatha’s safety, Jeffrey threw himself at the heavy oak door. It would not open. Sydney lent her weight to his, and the door burst open with both of them tumbling to the floor inside the room. As Jeffrey got to his feet, he met a sight that made his blood run cold. Jeffrey’s eyes met those of Nathaniel Yearling’s, the Captain was raping Tabatha. There was no other word for it. He had the naked woman pinned to the bed. Her eyes were dazed and wide with fear. He grinned at Jeffrey, turning his attention to Sydney, who stood there, stunned fear in her eyes. “You will have your turn soon enough,” he told Sydney. “When I am done with this wench I will tend to your splitting gash.” “Damn it Jeffrey, do not stand there, get him off her!” Furious with himself, Jeffrey rushed forward. His hands moved toward the Captain’s shoulder. He felt himself flung across the room, plastered to the wall, and imprisoned. He struggled. He was paralyzed, as though he were pressed against with heavy glass. He could see all, but could not move to stop it. Sydney ran toward the Captain as he completed his unspeakable act. He sat up in bed, grabbed Sydney by the throat, and squeezed. She began to cough and gag as she struggled. “Patience, wench,” he said. “Let’s see what you so eagerly want me to have.” Jeffrey struggled against his invisible barrier. “Leave her alone you son-of-a-bitch, or I’ll…” “You will do nothing, is what you’ll do, except for maybe watch me make use of this wench’s warm, tight hole,” Yearling said. He climbed off the bed, leaving Tabatha, who lay still as a board, the only sign of life the rise and fall of her chest. Captain lifted Sydney off the floor by the neck and held her there as he eyed her form. With his free hand he pulled open her robe, ripping the front of her gown to expose her breasts. He snatched one in his big hand and squeezed. Sydney cried out in pain. “Please, leave her alone, I am begging you,” Jeffrey voiced, helpless, and he hated it. The Captain threw his head back to laugh as he continued to fondle Sydney. “Yes, beg, you scum,” he almost sneered. “I like begging. I have watched men beg as I fucked their daughters. I’ve watch ‘em beg as I let my men take turns on their wives.

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I’ve watched women beg as I spilled their men’s entrails onto the floor. Now it’s your turn, cowardly scum! Watch as I pleasure your woman.” No... The word escaped Jeffrey’s lips to no avail. The Captain regarded him with contempt, turning his attention back to Sydney. He moved his hand down her body, sliding it over her mound. Sydney let out a choked sob. Jeffrey, paralyzed, helpless, felt the urge to kill. “Oh! Very pretty, thick, full lips. Soft, sandy hair. So sweet.” Sydney, still held by the throat, began to black out. Jeffrey tried to call her name, but it was as if a gag were in his throat. Yearling grinned at him again. “Now,” the Captain said. “See how a real man does it, Mr. Dillon.” “Tah-weh-oo-lumpa...” The strange words coming from an almost unconscious Sydney meant nothing to Jeffrey but had an almost electric effect on the Captain. His face showed fear, then anger. “You cursed bitch!” he screamed, then vanished. Jeffrey fell to the floor, landing on his bad leg. The pain was intense, but he got himself to his feet. Sydney collapsed on the bed next to Tabatha. Jeffrey grabbed a couple of blankets from the bedside chair, tossed one to Sydney, throwing the other over Tabatha, who remained unconscious. Jeffrey sat on the bed next to Sydney. “Are you okay?” he asked. She paused. “I am not sure,” she said. “Is Tabby okay?” Jeffrey glanced at the unconscious woman. “I’m not sure about that, either,” he said. They were quiet for a moment, and then he felt Sydney shudder beside him. “That was Captain Nathaniel Yearling,” she said, her voice flat. “Yes.” “I recognized him from the portrait.” She was silent for another moment. “My best friend was raped by a ghost, and I was almost...” she choked on those last words. Jeffrey put his arm across her shoulders, drawing her close to him. “Sydney, don’t,” he said with a gentle whisper. She leaned against him. “What do we do, Jeffrey?” she said, her voice small and afraid. “About him?” Jeffrey was at a loss. He had been stuck against the wall, helpless and trapped as a fly in a spider web. He was wondering the same thing. “I don’t know,” he almost whispered. “But we need help, badly. We cannot fight this on our own.” Sydney physically examined Tabatha. She seemed fine, but was not sure what her emotional state would be. Taking her to the hospital seemed useless, as they would only be required to report the rape. Besides, the authorities wouldn’t accept a ghost rape. They sat in vigil over Tabby the remainder of the night, together on the bed. Jeffrey held Sydney, grateful for the physical contact between them. He hated that it took

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something like this horror to bring it about. As dawn touched the windows and flooded in the room, Sydney rose from the bed, her face grim and determined. She eyed Jeffrey as he rustled next to her. “Do you want some coffee?” Jeffrey ran a hand over his face and blinked. “Yeah. Lots of it.” “Okay. I’ll make it. The Browns should be up, too, if all that screaming did not do it.” At the door, she turned and looked back at him, a small smile on her face, the first one since this horror had begun. “Jeffrey?” “Yeah?” “Thanks for not saying I told you so.” *** Mrs. Brown had already prepared breakfast. The delicious greasy smell of bacon saturated the air. Jeffrey wasn’t hungry. He was still exhausted from lack of sleep. He was on a terrible caffeine high from the five cups of coffee he’d had after their ordeal. Jeffrey did not dare fall asleep. Not now. Not with the Captain on the prowl. Sydney returned to the table with a fresh pot. Jeffrey gazed up and saw her blue eyes, rimmed with worry. He felt so helpless in the face of this situation. He could only hope the organization he had contacted came up with some answers. “How’s Tabatha?” he asked. “Still sleeping,” she replied. “I am not sure why; typically she is not a late sleeper.” “Maybe she needs five cups of coffee,” Jeffrey said, in sour amusement. Sydney managed a wan smile. He glanced back at Mrs. Brown at the stove, who was involved in breakfast, then leaned forward to Sydney. “Sydney, I am sorry for what I said last night. You were right. It was rude to snoop and out of line to contact someone else about it without talking to you first.” Sydney sighed as she toyed with her cup of coffee. “No, Jeffrey. I am the one who needs to apologize. Even if you had approached me, I would have shot you down. To be honest, I had some less than normal episodes here, in this house. I had visions of the Captain, his abuse of women and his threats on me. I was just too scared to admit it and too damn proud to let anyone know. I was more concerned that people would think I was crazy.” “Yeah, I know the feeling.” Jeffrey did not let on, but the fact that Nathaniel Yearling had entered Sydney’s visions frightened him more than he cared to admit. It meant that the ghost of the Captain might be on his way to take possession of her. Once possessed, her fate would not be much better than that of the cargo Yearling had imported to the fledgling colonies more than a century ago. Sydney spoke with a shudder. “But there is more to it than that. Last night…I was so damn frightened. I felt so helpless…I felt like a victim. The same as those poor girls who come in to the emergency room all battered and dehumanized, and the way Tabby just gave up and lay there when we came in. The way I felt in my marriage.” She broke

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off and bit her lip, as though she’d said too much. “Your ex was abusive?” Jeffrey asked. She nodded miserably. Jeffrey reached out to stroke her hair back from her face. “You are better off without him, Sydney. You are not helpless at all, not if you found the strength to leave him.” He sighed, dropping his hand. As much as he enjoyed the feel of her silky hair against his fingers, other things worried him now. “We are all helpless against the Captain. I am not sure what we can do.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You said that you investigated and researched this kind of shit.” “I have.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward, suspect of Mrs. Brown, absorbed in her cooking as she banged merrily away at the stove with her pots and pans. Jeffrey wondered how much she heard of their discussion. Where had the Browns been last night throughout that whole mess? How could they have slept through the racket? Neither one of them, Jeffrey realized, had showed their faces. “Most of the stories I researched could be explained away or were hoaxes,” he said, in response to Sydney’s questions. "Bogus. But, this seems different. It feels different. The fact that your family was so secretive about it makes it all the more serious. Skeletons are in the closet for a reason, Sydney. Mostly, because they become dangerous when let out.” “What about those people from England, can they help?” “Maybe…I hope…I do not know. I will check the e-mails later, after Tabatha is gone. I am not sure what the turnaround time on this type of thing might be.” “You know, the dreams, the feelings of being watched and even the occasional drop in temperature was disturbing enough, but last night…Oh, God, Jeffrey, last night I was terrified.” Sydney put her hands in front of her face, beginning to tremble as her sobs came, muffled. Jeffrey took her hands from her face to hold them. He stared in earnest at her. He would do anything to take this distress away. “Please do not cry, Sydney,” he said in a whisper. “We will do whatever it takes to fix this. I will be beside you all the way.” “Brefess be ready shortly.” Mrs. Brown’s matter-of-fact statement interrupted their almost intimate moment. Jeffrey was sorry, in a way. He squeezed Sidney’s hands with reassurance and released them, just as Tabatha bounded into the room. She was energetic, cheerful, and Jeffrey stared at her, stunned. “Hey, all!” Tabatha chirped. “What’s up?” Jeffrey could tell from Sydney’s silence that she was just as astonished at her friend’s personality as he was. Sydney turned to him, desperate questions in her eyes. Jeffrey had no idea. She had either been so drunk when the Captain had his way with her, or she’d repressed the vision back. Waaay back. “Whoa! You two look like you’ve seen a ghost. I know I don’t look that bad in the morning,” Tabatha said, a grin on her face. She banged out a chair, plopping down between the two of them. Mrs. Brown put a cup of coffee in front of her. Tabatha sipped it.

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“Are you all right, Tabby?” Sydney asked. “Slept like a baby,” Tabatha said with confidence. “I’ve gone to bed a lot, and I mean a lot drunker than that, huh, Sydney? And have awakened without any hangover. Tell him...” “Yeah, she’s right, Jeffrey; she’s been a lot more toasted than what she was last night.” Sydney spoke, still in disbelief. “I am glad you are feeling okay. You were pretty gone last night.” Jeffrey spoke, while he gave Sydney a warning glance. If Tabatha did not remember or chose not to remember, that was her business. “I know, but I feel great this morning,” the other woman said. “Is you hungry, dear?” Mrs. Brown asked. “Starving!” Tabatha chirped again, “I could eat a horse. Must be all this fresh air.” “Well, I don hold with eaten horses, but I got some bacon and eggs.” “Sounds wonderful, Mrs. Brown. Thanks.” Mrs. Brown set plates in front of them. True to her word, Tabatha began to snarf down her food. Jeffrey could only pick at his breakfast; judging by the way Sydney pushed her food around on her plate, she was not very hungry, either. He could tell she was concerned about her friend. He knew there was not much they could do about it. What they needed to focus on was the Captain, and how to get rid of him. As interested in ghosts and the paranormal as he had been, Jeffrey felt at a loss to what needed to be done. “I’m sorry guys, but I am going to have to get ready to go.” Tabatha announced. “What’s the hurry?” Sydney asked, almost alarmed. “Greg called me this morning. He is going to pick me up at my apartment in a couple hours. We will spend a few days at his parent’s vacation home in Myrtle Beach. Maybe we can patch up this lover’s quarrel we’ve been having.” Tabatha did not sound depressed at the fact that she had been on the rocks with her boyfriend. She sounded almost cheerful. “Going to be kinda chilly, don’t you think?” Sydney stirred her coffee, unable to look at her friend. “Well, sure. A little too cool for swimming, but it still gets warm enough in the afternoon to maybe catch some sun and walk along the beach. Plus there are some good restaurants and shops all over that area.” Tabatha bounded to her feet. “Well, I’m going to head out. I’ve got a lot of packing to do.” She smiled at Jeffrey holding out her hand. “It was great, seeing you again, Jeffrey. I’m glad your leg is healing.” “Thank you, Tabatha. It was nice seeing you again, too. Have fun at the beach,” “Oh, I plan to,” she told him. “Walk me to the car, Syd?” “Sure, Tabby.” Sydney got to her feet following her friend out of the kitchen. Jeffrey sighed, took a final sip of coffee, heading to the library. He knew it was too soon to hear from the Institute, but he hoped that maybe someone would respond. Even an auto-reply would be acceptable, he supposed. He was in luck, but the news was both good and bad. The bad: They did not have anyone to spare for what seemed to be a routine ghost-chasing mission. The good news was, they seemed to have pinpointed the problem. The solution was not anything that would present itself immediately.

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This sounds a great deal like voodoo. One of the many pagan religious practices in the South Seas, capable of raising the spirits,” wrote Agnes Noel, a professor with the institute. “Those who practiced voodoo believed the best way to send disruptive spirits back to their resting places was to find what released them in the first place. A charm, talisman, spell, etc. This could be the case with your Captain Yearling. Good luck in your endeavors, and please keep us posted. Agnes Noel Professor of paranormal research Institute of Paranormal Research “Hopefully we will still be alive to keep you posted,” Jeffrey muttered as he pondered the professor’s words. Charm, talisman or spell, she said. He remembered the odd words Sydney had muttered when the Captain had her in thrall the night before. The effect had been electric on him; he’d cursed her, and then disappeared. Sydney came into the library at that moment managing a smile for him. Even after everything she had been through, she remained beautiful in his eyes. “Tabatha okay?” he asked. Sydney shook her head. “Yes...no...I’m not sure. She was probably so traumatized by the encounter. Her conscious mind repressed the event. It’s an instinctual preservation mode the brain performs when it cannot understand what is happening. When this is all over, I will have to get her to talk about what happened.” “You’re sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. “I do not know that repressing this is helping her,” Sydney said. “I will talk to a doctor who has some experience in counseling battered women before I approach Tabby.” “That’s a good idea.” “I’ve been known for my practicality,” she said. “Did your friends from the paranormal institute write back?” “They did.” Jeffrey leaned back to rotate his shoulders in an attempt to loosen them. Sydney came over to massage them. He sighed under her touch. “If you ever get tired of nursing, you have a second career,” he told her. “Very funny. What did they say?” “One, they cannot come. Two, that we need some kind of charm or talisman or magic spell or something to send the Captain from whence he came.” “I thought these guys were scientists. Charms?” “Dr. Noel thinks Yearling has popped up as the result of some kind of voodoo spell gone wrong. She said in those situations, that’s what sends the dead back.” He turned in his chair to face her. “Noel may have a point. Last night, when the Captain was about to do his deed with you, you mumbled some strange words. Almost had a Caribbean sound to them! Do you remember?” Sydney broke off her massage. Her brow furrowed. “All I can remember is that thing lifting me off the floor, tearing at my nightgown and clutching my throat. The next thing I knew, I’d fallen and was sharply awakened.” “Well, you said something that caused the Captain to skedaddle,” Jeffrey said. “If I were good at hypnosis, I’d be tempted to put you under. But I’m not.”

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“So what do we do?” Her voice was soft and worried. Jeffrey picked up one of the hands that still rested on his shoulder kissing it, relieved she did not pull away. She smiled, blushing, then left him and sat on the desk. “What do we do?” he asked. “We stay calm. We wait for opportunities. And we continue to research this. Our chance will come, depend on it.” “I hope so.” The worry was back in her eyes. “I do not think I can stand another encounter with that man, asleep or awake.” “We will do our best to make sure it won’t happen.” Truth to tell, he had his own doubts. Though he hoped to research the paranormal, he had not realized his first experience would be with a maniacal, all-powerful ghost. All it showed him was that, despite the years of preparation, and the gift his grandmother claimed he had, he was not as prepared as he had thought, or hoped he might be.

Chapter Thirteen

Later that day, Sydney and Jeffrey began a leisurely trek on horseback to the river. Sydney had gone stir crazy in a house that vibrated from memories of the night before, and was anxious to get out. When she proposed was a picnic along the James River to Jeffrey, he responded with excitement -- he too, was anxious to get away from Captain Yearling’s house. As they rode in silence, Sydney examined her emotions and feelings, which had undergone a one hundred and eighty degree turn during the past twenty-four hours due, in part, to the man who now rode by her side. Yesterday at this time, she had been comfortably in lust with Jeffrey Dillon, with no spooks or ghosts or danger to frighten her. Last night, she had been furious with the same Jeffrey Dillon, for snooping in her family history and, even worse, airing the family’s dirty laundry to outsiders. Now she did not know how she felt.

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Worried, of course, about Tabby, who chose to repress the assault or did not remember it. Then again, who was she to talk? The Captain had come to her, both in dreams and visions, and repeatedly assaulted her. She had allowed it to happen, welcoming it, in fact. She never acknowledged it to herself, until Jeffrey had come along, forcing her to face the issue. Sydney turned her attention to the man by her side, who was now absorbed in the Southern landscape with curiosity on his handsome face. She felt her heart flip over in her chest as she regarded Jeffrey. She had only known him for a short time, but a comfort level had grown between them, one she had never felt before. Sydney brought her mind back to the moment, focusing on the blue sky, the warm air, redolent with a slight breeze, and the smell of pines. As they traveled through the shadows of the large oaks and other trees at a leisurely pace, the rhythmic motion of the horse beneath her soothed her worried soul. Beside her, Jeffrey stirred in his saddle. As she looked at him, he grinned. She felt slippery warmth kindle in her belly at his smile. “I did not know you had horses,” he said. “I don’t really,” she replied. “A lot of my family’s property has been leased out over the years. One of the leaser’s raises thoroughbreds.” “These are race horses?” Doubt laced Jeffrey’s voice. “They are traveling really slow.” Sydney laughed. “Well, for one thing, they are not on a racetrack, being whipped with a crop, by a short little fellow with goggles. Another reason is that these guys are too old. Luckily, for them, the owners have a heart, and instead of selling them to a glue factory or something, they put them to pasture. I think mostly their grandchildren ride them now. I have an open invitation to ride them whenever I like. I get to ride and they get some exercise. It’s a good deal for all concerned. I did not know you rode, Jeffrey.” He shrugged, a little self-conscious. “I learned on my grandparents’ farm,” he said. “It has been awhile, though, since I have actually done it.” “Well, you still have your seat, at any rate.” Sydney flushed. She was not thinking of Jeffrey’s seat at all. Before he could respond, they crested a rise. Sydney reined in. Jeffrey followed suit. She pointed down to a shimmering ribbon as it wound its way through the land, and east. “The James River,” Sydney said. “She’s beautiful.” Jeffrey spoke with a simple awe. Sydney knew something of how he felt. She always loved the trek up here, and the beauty that greeted her eyes. She thought about the history of this particular part of land; with its bloody battles fought along the banks of the James during the War Between the States. “Your family owns all this land?” Jeffrey’s question broke her musings. “No. Not this part. It was bought up by the historical society, so developers would not get their greedy paws on it and put condos and shopping centers on sites where history took place.” Jeffrey nodded. “Good thing, too. There are enough condos and shopping centers as it is. Can we get closer? I would love to see her up close.” “Sure, there’s this stunning meadow that opens up to the river. We will stop to rest there and have our picnic.”

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“The picnic sounds great,” Jeffrey said. “I am famished. I did not eat much today.” “Neither did I.” Sydney dug her heels gently into the sides of her horse. He moved forward. She could hear Jeffrey following suit. When they topped another rise, Sydney stopped, making a sweeping motion with her arm. “We’re here,” she announced. They were at the opening of a horseshoe shaped meadow filled with multi-colored wildflowers that dazzled both the eyes and the nose, the scent intoxicating. At the open end of the shoe was the edge of the slow rolling James River, and Sydney heard Jeffrey’s gasp at the view. “Come on,” she said. They rode their horses to a level plain near the river and dismounted. Sydney unlatched the picnic basket Mrs. Brown had been thoughtful enough to pack for her. Jeffrey took the blankets he’d carried. He spread them out beneath the shade of the tree. Both worked in silence, enraptured by the sights and sounds of nature’s beauty, the scent of the pines mingled with the wildflowers, and the, steady sound of the James as it traveled its slow route. Still gripped with that same peace and lassitude, they sat on the blanket, opened the picnic basket, digging into the sandwiches, potato salad and apple pie prepared for them. They spoke little as they ate, content to satisfy their hunger first. After they’d eaten their fill, Sydney poured a second glass of lemonade for each of them. They sat in comfortable silence, sipping the fresh concoction. “Since my divorce a few years ago, I had to force myself to be strong,” Sydney said. She hadn’t known she was going to say the words, but as they came out, she knew this was the right place for them. Jeffrey nodded. The look on his face encouraged her to continue. “When I got married I thought it was heaven on earth,” she said. “He was handsome with had a good job. Even better, in the beginning, he treated me like I was a queen. In response, I swore that I would be the perfect wife. That’s how we are brought up down here, you know. Us Southern Belles need to be the perfect wives.” She snorted laughter at herself, continuing. “Well, I was. The house was spotless, his clothing always cleaned and pressed, with dinner always on time. Even more, I always cooked his favorite foods.” Sydney sighed, drew her knees to her chin, resting her head on them. Those early years of her first marriage had been good years, she realized. Then it had all fallen apart. She cleared her throat and continued. “After a couple years, it was not so perfect any more. His business kept him away. I had a lot of free time on my hands so I went back to school for my master’s degree. I already had my nursing degree, but I wanted more out of it. He threw a fit. I managed to convince him I needed something to fill my days while he was away. He suggested children. When I suggested he was not around long enough or often enough for that to happen, the shit hit the fan.” She heard Jeffrey’s sharp intake of breath at her admission. But he said nothing. Sydney swallowed forcing herself to keep speaking. “He apologized for it afterwards and he was so remorseful, I felt sorry for him so I forgave him. It was a lapse, I had thought. You know, pressures of the job, that type of thing.”

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“That’s no excuse to take it out on a woman, especially his wife.” Jeffrey spoke with some heat, and then subsided. “He began drinking while I was in my second year of school,” she continued. “He was drinking heavily. On those days, he would get rough." “Sydney, please, you do not have to do this.” “But I do.” She faced him, aware of the tears that were too close. “I need to be honest with you, Jeffrey. I am beginning to care for you, a lot. But I’m trying to explain why it probably will not be that easy for us.” “You do not trust men because your first husband was abusive, and you do not think you can trust me not to do the same?” She nodded, broken as the tears trickled down her cheeks. “Sydney, why didn’t you leave him, then?” His voice was gentle, but she sensed a simmer of anger beneath it. She realized that if her ex had materialized at that moment, Jeffrey would have killed him, on the spot. The feeling warmed her. “Why did not I leave him? Pride.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers. “You have to understand, Jeffrey. It’s not our family’s way. There’s never been a divorce in my family. I did not want to be the first one to break that chain. Plus, friends and family kept pointing out that things would get better, once he was out from under all the pressure of the job.” “Job pressure.” Jeffrey spoke angrily. “I had pressures on my job, but that never caused me to take out my frustration on the women I’ve been with. So what caused you to leave him?” “I caught him having an affair with his boss’ wife,” she said. "That pain hurt more than the pain of his beatings. That was the last straw. We separated and divorced. I was convinced, for years, that it had been my entire fault for everything that happened.” Sydney gazed at the river. “I know better now. It took years of therapy, years of having to pull myself up by my bootstraps to make myself strong, and a good life for myself. Unfortunately, I was not strong last night at all. I was scared and confused.” The tears flowed again. Sydney swiped them away in anguish. “You could not have prepared for last night, anymore than you could have prepared to deal with, what’s his name? Syd, I was scared, too.” She turned to face him for the first time since starting her narrative. She noted the strong planes of his face, and the look of concern and compassion in his dark brown eyes. “I was not scared just for me, or for Tabby. I was scared for you. I said it earlier. I care for you a lot.” This was the second time she had said it in the span of five minutes. For fear of his reaction, she looked away. He took her chin in his fingers, gently turning her head, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Sydney, I have grown to care a lot about you, too. I only set eyes on you a short time ago, but ever since, I thought there was something special about you. I cannot tell you how delighted I was when you invited me to your house to recover. It almost tore my soul out when we fought last night.” “Last night,” she said, bemused. “All of this happened only last night. It seems like a lot longer.”

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“It does,” he agreed softly, then leaned forward until their lips almost brushed. “Shall I stop?” he whispered. She shivered as his breath caressed her lips. “No,” she said closing the gap between them, as she pressed her lips to his. Sydney felt the gates of her passion unlock and open. In invitation, she parted her lips as his tongue slid through to intertwine with hers. Heat kindled in her belly as moisture flowed between her legs. The tender press of his lips, the snakelike dance of his tongue on hers and his aroma awoke dormant feelings within her. The animal lust that excited her, even frightened her as it overwhelmed her. Jeffrey sensed her fear, broke the kiss to study her with a tenderness that almost broke her heart. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered. “I will not hurt you. Trust me, Sydney. I may not be able to defend you against that asshole, Captain Yearling, but I will never deliberately hurt you or force myself on you.” “Oh, God,” Sydney whispered in response, and closed her eyes. His compassion and sensitivity further stoked her lust, if such a thing were possible. “I know, Jeffrey. I trust you.” She had uttered the words, the truth. He might not be strong enough to defeat the ghost enemy. She believed he would never hurt her. She pressed her lips against his again. Jeffrey responded with his whole body as he moved in against hers. Locked in passion, he slid his hands under her shirt. Breaking the kiss only for a moment to slide her shirt over her head, he unhooked the clasps on her bra. Her breasts sprang free, her nipples were hard. She heard Jeffrey’s intake of breath at the sight. On fire for him now, Sydney unzipped to slide her jeans off, starting to remove her panties, but he stopped her. “No…not yet.” He gently placed her on her back laying down beside her, his shirt gentle brushed against her bare flesh making her gasp in pleasure. He began to kiss her on her face, his warm breath sent shivers of ecstasy through her. His hands caressed her breasts, while fingers teased her hardened nipples as he showered kisses up and down her neck. Moving the course, his fingers replaced his tongue as he savored her peaks. Unbearable tendrils of heat moved in her lower belly, straight down to between her legs. Suck it, she thought. Oh, God. Please. As though he heard her, Jeffrey slipped a nipple in his mouth to nibble gently with his teeth while he sucked. The stimulation drove her wild, panties soaked and clinging. His fingers played over the soft fabric of her panties. Her legs parted in invitation. He passed his fingers over her nether lips again and again. He continued to kiss her breast. Sydney arched her back, urging him to press harder between her legs. Only to be met with his continued tease until she was on fire. Just as she thought she could stand no more, he moved her panties aside to slide his fingers in, parting her lips, stroking between the soft petals of her folds. One finger slid in, then slid out to squeeze her swollen nub. Sydney gasped, her body convulsed from his attentions. She removed her panties. The warm breeze blew on her naked body and soaked

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nether region, causing her to shiver. Her awareness was on Jeffrey. His lips moved down her body and over her belly. His kisses warm and sensual as his tongue made its way to her pubic mound. He nibbled at her lips, first one, and then the other, his tongue darted in and out of the soaked folds of her sex. Sydney jumped, crying out, caught between the insane need for release and the wish that what he was doing would never end. His sexual hunger for her juices continued. She arched her hips, beckoning for more. He obliged, his tongue forged deeper, pulled out and forged again. She caught her breath on a sob. Lust ran rampant throughout her body, holding her captive. In extreme need, Sydney wound her fingers through his thick, dark hair in an effort to pull him closer screaming as she reached her glorious climax, her hips thrust outward and her back arched. Jeffrey used his tongue to caress the folds of her sex, plunging deeply inside of her. She came down. He took her clit between his lips, running his tongue across the swollen bud, which started her orgasmic cycle again. Sydney writhed insanely against the blanket, crying out his name repeatedly as he continued his most intimate of kisses. He stopped. She watched him rise to his feet, removing his shirt and pants. Her breaths came hard. She gazed at the beauty of this man. She wanted, more than anything, to have him deep inside her. As he lay down with her, she hesitated. Jeffrey sensed her hesitation, drawing back. He began to stroke her hair from her forehead, smiling as he whispered. “I will never hurt you.” Again that promise, no pain, no hurt. Sydney looked into his eyes, saw no anger; simply love, warmth, acceptance and the same need she felt. “Take me,” she whispered. “Please. I need you inside me...” Jeffrey obliged with an eager grin. He gently brushed the head of his erection against her lush opening. She held her breath as the tip touched her sensitive, swollen clit. She tilted her hips upward pressing inward on the small of his back as he pressed against her velvet gate to enter. “Oh, my God.” Sydney could barely get the words out. Jeffrey pressed his mouth to hers as he slid deep into her. She inhaled deeply, pulling precious air from his lungs. She loved the feel of him. The sensation of being stretched and the weight of his sack against her bottom caused the erotic feelings to fly even higher. He started with long, slow strokes, from head to base; his movements were as a piston, in and out. Her breath raw in her throat, Sydney encouraged him with small cries as she released a lungful of air each time he buried himself in her depths. He increased the tempo of his thrusts. Sydney opened further to take as much of him as possible. His pace quickened as the friction against her sensitive, slick walls pushed her to the edge. With muscle-spasm force, she dug her nails into his shoulders as she felt his manhood swelling inside her. Jeffrey cried out her name as he plunged deep inside her.

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The contracting muscles from her orgasm continued to milk his shaft. He cried out again as his orgasm seemed to rip through him. Sweat drenched, sated, they embraced, his face buried in her neck, softly kissing her through deep breaths. “I love you, Sydney.” Sydney took his face in her hands to gaze deep into his brown eyes. All her life, she’d been searching for that fuzzy, warm feeling. With Jeffrey, she’d found it. “I love you, too,” she whispered. He brought her into his arms. She closed her eyes in grateful bliss.

Chapter Fourteen

Jeffrey had held her close, feeling her tremble against him. He marveled that they had both come so far. Last night she had all but thrown him out of the house. Less than twenty-four hours later, they became lovers. He was in awe of her bravery, having suffered through her past marriage, only to find the courage to escape it, building a life for herself. He chastised himself, wondering how he could keep her safe from the clutches of the Captain. His declaration of love had come from a deep, honest place within him. She has responded, as she had been

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more than he could have hoped. Some time later they got to their feet, held by a magical quiet, packed up the remains of their picnic, riding back to the house. Jeffrey savored her smell on him, as well as the memory of how good it had felt when he kissed her, held her close and loved her. At the foot of the circular driveway Sydney halted, goose bumps visible on her arms. “What is it?” Jeffrey asked. She turned to him, fright apparent in her huge blue eyes. “The house, Jeffrey. This may sound insane, but I feel like it’s watching me. It is watching us.” Jeffrey thought for a moment. “It is not the house. It’s him.” He saw a helpless shudder pass through her. “I do not know if I can go back in there. Not after last night.” Jeffrey could well understand what she felt. After last night, he did not want to go back in, either. While she lay curled in his arms, she had confided a vision she had, about the Captain’s sexual assault in front of the nurse’s station. She had not known at the time who it had been. She told him, but now realized it was Yearling. Jeffrey had considered her words; the import frightened him. If the Captain pursued her outside the house, she could be in real trouble. She would have to go in to face him. Otherwise, Yearling would pursue Sydney until the end of her days, no matter where she ran. “You have to go back.” He spoke with quiet conviction. “You cannot let him win. His time has come and gone. Yours is here and now. You need to stand strong and claim your birthright.” He hesitated for a moment. “I am not sure if this is any help, especially as my record with your ancestor is oh-and-one. I will not leave you to face this alone.” She turned her head, giving him a look that turned him inside out. She smiled at him, cupped his cheek with her palm, urging her horse up the circular driveway. Jeffrey followed suit. He could only hope his brave words would help Sydney, because they were not doing a damn thing for him. They pulled the horses to the house. As they dismounted, Mr. Brown came to meet them. “Good ride, Miss Sydney, Mr. Jeffrey?” he queried. Sydney grinned at Jeffrey, flushing, then nodded at the small, elderly man. “A very good ride, Mr. Brown. Thanks for asking.” Mr. Brown nodded. “I’s see to the horses. Get’um back where they belong. My Missus will has dinner ready soon.” “Thank you, Mr. Brown,” Sydney said. As Mr. Brown led the horses off, Jeffrey grabbed Sydney’s hand, pulling her close to inhale her scent of arousal. He closed his eyes. He was back in the meadow with her. The memory was potent, with the power to arouse him. “Let’s get washed up,” she said, dispelling the mood. “I am hungry.” “So am I,” he admitted. “But not necessarily for food.” “Funny man,” she said, her eyes sparkled. “Or should I say horny man? I do not think we can live on lovemaking alone. Especially if our stomachs are growling, like mine is now.” “Well, okay.”

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Jeffrey had to agree, he was ravenous, too, despite the lunch they had eaten. Must be the country air, he thought, and then laughed. Sydney looked at him, a puzzled smile on her face. “Share the joke?” she asked. He shook his head. “It’s funnier as a thought,” he told her. “It would not make a lick of sense to you if I talked about it, so come on.” Taking her hand, he drew her up the stairs and through the front door as the heavenly scents of food assaulted him from the kitchen. His stomach began to speak and Sydney laughed. “Must be Pavlovian,” he said. “Every time I come in the front door, my stomach growls.” “Well, Mrs. Brown’s cooking will do that to you. Let’s wash up to eat on the patio, okay? It is too nice a day to be stuck inside the dining room or kitchen.” They separated at the staircase in the foyer. Jeffrey went to the bathroom down the hall from the library. He could sense the presence of the Captain. It was distant, like the far-away roll of thunder. As he washed up, he looked at himself in the mirror, touching the not-so-visible bump on his head. Sydney thought that his visions came from the head injury. She would learn soon enough, that it had not been the case. Jeffrey sighed as he dried his hands on the towel, three words rolled around in his brain -- Voodoo, talisman and charms. If he could fit the three of those together, he might, just might, have the opportunity to rid the world of Captain Nathaniel Yearling, once and for all. *** With dinner finished, Sydney and Jeffrey settled on the patio sipping coffee as dusk settled around them to melt into full-fledged darkness. The night sky was clear and alive with stars. Fireflies danced crickets and tree frogs sang, while bats flew above. The heat of the day had morphed into cooler weather that was comfortable. Jeffrey sighed, content with life, except one thing. The problem -- another man was involved in his content life. He had to protect Sydney from Nathaniel Yearling. He had no idea how to do it. He sighed, which caught Sydney’s attention. “I’m sorry if I am such boring company,” she said. “It’s not the company,” he reassured her. “It is this place. It is so quiet and peaceful. I know people that would kill to live here.” “People have killed to live here,” she said, tension creeping into her voice. “And people have been killed.” “That was past,” he said, and they were silent. “Maybe that is why I went into nursing,” Sydney said, reflecting. “I always had the desire to help. Do you think that might be as a result of all the destruction and pain that my ancestor created?” Jeffrey twined his hand in hers. “Maybe,” he said in answer to her spoken question. “But whatever the reason, you are one a hell of a good nurse. You are a hell of a good person.” She lay back in her chair to stare at the dark sky. “You do not really know me,” she said. “I am a control freak. I do not like to show emotion. I am overly cold. I rebuff

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people. My ex used to accuse me of being frigid. ” Her voice choked slightly. Jeffrey squeezed her hand, speaking in a sharp tone. “That, my dear Miss Yearling, is pure bullshit.” She looked at him as he continued in a more moderate tone of voice. “You’re ex did not know what he was talking about. I will tell you what you are. You are a compassionate, warm, inviting, intelligent, sensual and beautiful person. And by the way…terrific in bed.” He could see a smile tug the corners of her mouth. “You do not know how I am in bed. We have not tried it in bed. Not yet.” “Not yet? Is that an invitation, Miss Yearling?” She picked up his hand, sliding his index finger into her mouth. He felt his groin tighten at the sensation of her hot tongue on his flesh. He swallowed. “I do not usually do this,” she said. “I am a lousy flirt, and I have never really had the desire to try to seduce anyone. You make it so easy for me, Jeffrey. You have made everything easier. Your being here has helped me focus, to be brave and to face many truths. Thank you for that.” Touched beyond belief, Jeffrey could only stare at this woman who, he was convinced, was becoming more and more important to him. She said she felt he was her support during this difficult time in her life. Yet he was convinced she had opened a core of something in him, removing his typical cynicism about things. He had come far from the disillusioned and somewhat cynical reporter who had set out just a couple of weeks ago, a grant in his bank account, to learn what he could about paranormal phenomenon. He'd learned something about paranormal, all right, but he was no longer disillusioned, thanks to Sydney. He opened his mouth to tell her all of this. She shook her head, smiling as though sensing his thoughts. “I believe we were talking about going to bed,” she said in a low voice. “You were asking for an invitation. I am issuing one.” Like I’d be dumb enough to turn it down! Jeffrey stood and smiled, holding out his hand to her. She gave him a grin back as she put her hand in his. She rose to her feet and they left the patio together, moving in tandem. He could feel her desire, mirrored to his own. Through the kitchen, he was relieved to see the Browns had retired. Though the older couple realized something was up between him and Sydney, he was not sure he needed either of them staring at them in an obvious fashion as they headed toward the bedroom. Jeffrey noticed her flushed skin. He remembered that afternoon when he had taken her, her whole body exposed to his gaze. She had opened to him, trusted him. He shivered for a moment. As he walked up the stairs his erection chafed against his briefs. He welcomed the discomfort, as he knew relief would be coming soon. He sensed her excitement through their clasped hands. When she glanced at him, the want in her eyes touched a chord deep within him. Jeffrey closed his eyes, amazed that a creature like Sydney Yearling could look at him with such lust and love combined, especially after such a short acquaintanceship. Maybe there was such a thing as past lives…maybe they had known one another

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before. Even with his interest in the paranormal, Jeffrey had never believed in reincarnation. Love at first sight he recognized in Sydney from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. Drugged or not, he had known even then that they were meant to be together. In her bedroom she shut the door softly behind them, stepping into his arms as she pressed her lips to his. Her body was soft and warm against his. He felt her moan as he rotated his hips against her. She opened her mouth to accept the invitation. Jeffrey slid his tongue between her lips. Their breath mingled as their tongues danced. Finally he finally broke the kiss, leaning against the door. His breath had become hot in his throat as he tried to get it under control. “Sydney, love, I do not know how much more of this I can take before my legs just collapse,” he told her. “To the bed then.” The words flowed as she spoke. “Take your clothes off first,” he whispered. “I want to see you as you were this afternoon. Naked, beautiful and all mine to have!” She flushed, keeping her eyes on his as she disrobed. She was removing her Tshirt, jeans and undergarments slowly. Devoid of her clothing, Sydney captivated him. His eyes drank their fill -- taking in her full breasts with their erect nipples, her slender waist and long legs. The fine down of hair between her legs hid more treasures, he knew. He almost groaned aloud at the memory of the feel of her tight, slick walls within. He removed his clothing to his briefs before she held out a hand to stop him, a teasing smile on her face. She traced his erection through his Jockeys with a light finger. “No,” she said. “Not yet. You can wait, as you made me wait this afternoon.” He was on fire from her touch. He managed a look of mock despair at the ceiling. “You’re a cold-hearted woman, Sydney Yearling.” She gripped him in gentle fashion, smiling as he groaned. “You do not know the half of it, Mr. Dillon. Now, to the bed, please.” He was not about to fight that request. He lay down, reaching for her, but she evaded his arms, still smiling. “No,” she said. “I want to please you tonight. Let me do it, Jeffrey?” The last held an entreaty. He closed his eyes, nodding as he sensed it would make her happy beyond belief to pleasure him. “I’m in your hands, love,” he said softly. “I was in your hands when I was hurting from my injuries, and you healed them.” “Let me heal your other hurts, too,” she whispered. “Let me do that for you.” A lump grew in his throat at her selfless words. Nurse Yearling had been a great help in the emergency room, he had been told later, with his physical wounds. Now Sydney Yearling, his lover, wanted to take it one step further, to heal the emotional pain; the years of rejection from his father, the pain of not being taken seriously for his beliefs, and even more, the horrific breakup with Brenda, which had left a deeper scar than he could have imagined. She laid her lips on his chest, kissing his flesh, moving in a slow rotation. On occasion, her tongue would dart out to taste him. The quick flicks of moisture sent heat

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to his belly. Before long she nibbled and licked his nipples. Her fingers trailed up and down his stomach. “Feel good?” she inquired. “God, sweetheart,” he groaned. “You have no idea.” “Oh, I think I do.” Giving him a coy smile, her fingers moved further down until they reached his hardness. She squeezed him while her strokes up and down him drove him crazy. He arched his back and gasped, feeling the molten heat race through his body. She continued to stroke him through the material of his briefs, using just the right pressure in all the right places, until he was shivering uncontrollably with need. “Maybe we need to take these off.” “That might be a good idea,” he managed to choke the words out. She knelt beside him and with incredible slowness, peeled his briefs down and over his legs. His cock sprang free. Sydney took it in hand, caressing the length to eventually cup his balls. With her free hand she controlled his shaft. The two motions nearly drove him mad. He moaned as he thrust hard into her hand again and again. His cock became slick from his own juices. She gripped him at the base, starting to run her tongue across and around the ridge of his dome. The sensual shock from her ministrations shuddered throughout him and his hips rose in glee. She eagerly took his entire length into her warm mouth Her lips slid over his hardness while her tongue toyed with his tip. He thrust deep into her mouth again. He could not stop himself. The hot, wet feel of her mouth combined with the sensation of her lips on his sensitive flesh made him impervious to all except his extraordinary need to climax. “Ah, God,” he gasped. “Sydney!” Almost on signal she cupped his balls, massaging them as she continued to move her lips and tongue over and around his member, which was swollen to the breaking point. Jeffrey closed his eyes, moving hard against her. Suddenly a hideous, inhuman laughter filled the room. His eyes snapped open. Before his senses could register what had happened, Sydney was gone. Her scream signified her leaving was not done willingly. It only took a moment for Jeffrey to register that he was staring into Captain Nathaniel Yearling’s eyes before a huge hand came down against his throat and squeezed, effectively cut off his supply of air.

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Chapter Fifteen

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Sydney was paralyzed from the pain and shock of it all. One moment she had been pleasuring Jeffrey and herself in the process. The next moment she had been hauled off him, flung to the far reaches of her room. She sat up, groggy, gasping as she viewed the scene before her. Nathaniel Yearling was by her bed, with Jeffrey in a chokehold. Jeffrey seemed unconscious and slowly turning blue. “Stop, damn it. Stop! You’re killing him.” “Good. One needs to learn that you do not take another’s property.” The Captain squeezed tighter around Jeffrey’s throat, almost playfully released him to squeeze tight again. “No!” Sydney shrieked. The Captain looked at her with an insane glee. His hands still on Jeffrey’s throat, Yearling caressed her with greedy eyes. To her horror, Sydney realized she was naked. Vulnerable to anything the Captain wanted to do to her. The killing lust in the man’s eyes seemed replaced by another kind of lust. Sydney quailed before it. She fought not to show her fear, sensing this would feed the Captain’s evil frenzy, so she fought to remain calm. Yearling glanced at Jeffrey shrugging. “Time enough to do away with him later, after you and I have had our fill of each other, eh, lass?” he said. “Maybe we can wake him up and let ‘um watch.” Without another word he lifted Jeffrey like a rag doll, throwing him against the wall. The unconscious man landed with no movement. Sydney choked back a sob. Oh, God, what if he’s dead? She saw his chest rise and fall and relief gripped her. He was still alive, but for how long she could not be certain. The Captain ignored the crumpled man in the corner, walking toward Sydney. She backed away from him until she hit the wall and could go no further. He stopped just inches from her, coldly looking down at her with a gleam of speculation in his eyes. “So you like to suck cock, hmm?” He regarded her. His hand strayed between his legs, and to her horror Sydney could see the bulge behind the pantaloons he wore. He won’t get me, she thought, furiously. I won’t let him get me, like he got -Tabatha. I’ll kill myself first. I’ll kill him first. Brave words, but just how the hell were they going to be accomplished? How was she going to protect herself if she couldn’t even help Jeffrey? The Captain grinned, feeling her fear. He undid the buttons on his pants releasing his engorged member. He fondled it as he spoke. “I was watching you pleasure that traitor just now, you whore. You’ll do it to any man, won’t you? You’ll spread yourself beneath anyone. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson that you do not play around on the Captain.”

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Sydney closed her eyes to fight the fear that threatened to undo her. All she wanted to do was drop to her knees and plead with him to spare Jeffrey, that she’d do anything, anything... “I do not belong to you,” she said, in slow, steady words. “I do not belong to any man. Not even Jeffrey Dillon. I love him and willingly give myself to him.” She mimicked the Captain’s way of speaking, a language from a bygone age. Entertained, he threw back his head, laughing at her defiance. “That is where you’re wrong, wench. You’ve belonged to me ever since your blood brought you to this house. There were times when you welcomed my caresses, begged me to take you and almost cried when I stopped. So do not tell me you do not belong to me, or that you do not enjoy what I do to you.” Sydney swallowed, looking away, helpless. God damn him, he was right. As her phantom lover, he had roused her to a terrible pitch, turning her into a mass of throbbing need that required fulfillment. In her dreams she had acquiesced to him, willing and eager. Her mind raced as she realized that he had control of her body, not her mind. Even as her body had succumbed to his hated seductions, her mind now shied away from the Captain and his history. The thought of him touching her brought no arousal, only revulsion and fear. “Is that how you do it then?” she asked him. One part of her mind looked on in disbelief that she was in conversation with a ghost. He seemed to be a mere spiritual poltergeist. However, the small, scared part of her tried to reason with this demon, knowing, to her despair, that it wouldn’t do any good. She was trapped with no escape. “You seduce your women and when they’re under your spell, take them against their will?” Sydney was proud that her voice remained steady. Everything within her screamed to beg, to plead for mercy, but she knew the Captain would get off on that. She held the remnants of her pride, remaining calm. The Captain spoke, clearly bored. “Enough talk; time for you to wrap your pretty lips around this.” He held his engorged shaft out to her with a smile. She shied away from him. “On your knees, girl, or else yon gentleman there won’t live to see the light of another morn. I would like him conscious to witness this, but ‘tis well he isn’t. I would hate to have to kill him.” When Sydney hesitated, the Captain frowned. “On your knees, bitch, and I mean now!” She trembled in anger, sinking to her knees before him, all the while searching for Jeffrey’s still form. How do I stop him? What else can I do? The Captain snatched her head back by her hair, attempting to rub the wet head of his staff against her lips. The odor of his fluid was pungent and nauseating, which caused her to gag. “Open your mouth, bitch, and suck it! Now!” the Captain bellowed. Sydney could feel the noise around her. He pushed himself against her closed mouth, furious with her fight. Sydney continued her struggle, but the Captain was about to win... She jerked back from his grip as she heard the bedroom door burst open -- clean off the hinges. There Mr. Brown stood. Not the gentle, subservient Mr. Brown Sydney had known

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all of her life. This man radiated an aura of power. “Release her, demon,” he said forcefully. Yearling turned to him with insolence. “Damn you priest, I have told you about interfering.” Mr. Brown didn’t budge, but continued to eye the specter of the Captain. “I command that you release her,” he repeated in that same commanding tone. “Or what, priest?” the Captain asked and displayed an evil grin. “You’ll kill me? Maybe once I am done with this tasty morsel here that is eager to sample my juices, I will let your whore take over letting her suck my seed from my balls.” “Tah-weh-oo-lumpa!” Mr. Brown roared with the power and strength of a younger man. Sydney jerked, feeling the words vibrate against her body, her soul, her very essence. The Captain, suddenly enraged, yelled. Sydney cowered on the floor as his shape shook and shimmered. A large vein in his forehead stood out, throbbing in grotesque form with his fury. “I will kill you and your whore, priest!” The Captain’s threat drifted out on empty air as he vanished. Sydney looked up at Mr. Brown, still standing at the door; a gentle compassion crossed his expression for her within his eyes. She suddenly felt five again, coming to him with a scratched knee. He knew just the thing to take away the pain... Tears rolled down her cheeks, Sydney pushed herself to her feet, stumbling toward him. She fell into his arms, where he caught her. “Mr. Brown,” Sydney said. “It hurts. It all hurts...” “Hush, child, and rest,” he said in a soothing voice. “The battle begins now, the lines are drawn. You will need to be strong, very strong.” Sydney heard no more as she fainted.

Chapter Sixteen

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Jeffrey gasped as he sat up, his body drenched in sweat. His vision was blurred. He cried out at the sudden pain in his head. He lay back down, placing his hands over his eyes. Please, please, please, not the head. He opened his eyes again. This time his vision was steady. He could see he was in a different bedroom, not the library or Sydney’s room, filled with lit candles and fragrant incense. Nor was he alone. Another figure in a white robe with its back to Jeffrey kneeled and chanted at something which looked like an altar. Jeffrey had never heard this type of chant, but the vocals, combined with the incense, soothed him. The bedroom door opened. Mr. Brown entered the room with the quietness of a cat. He stopped to speak in a whisper to the kneeling figure. Jeffrey couldn’t make out what was being said. The chant stopped and the white-robed figure rose to its feet, turning toward Jeffrey, moving swiftly to the bed. To Jeffrey’s surprise, it was Mrs. Brown, but not the servile maid he was used to. This Mrs. Brown was generating a powerful presence. She laid her hand on his forehead for a long moment before she turned to her husband. “He’s fine now,” she said in a voice devoid of the usual patois accent. “A little groggy, but fine.” Mr. Brown nodded. “Thank you, love,” he said. Jeffrey was struck by the absence of the thick accent in his voice. “Leave us now, if you would.” Mrs. Brown nodded, leaving the room. Mr. Brown pulled a chair beside Jeffrey and sat down. He reached for a glass of water with a straw, holding it to Jeffrey’s lips. Jeffrey had not realized how thirsty he was. He sipped eagerly. At last, thirst quenched, he lay back on his pillows, staring at Mr. Brown. The man seemed different; he carried himself with authority. His deep brown eyes were all-knowing, as though he could see into anything and everything. “How do you feel, young man?” Mr. Brown asked, his voice sincere. “Head hurts and I’m still a little dizzy,” Jeffrey muttered. “As well it should. You took a hard blow, but it will pass soon enough.” Mr. Brown’s tone carried authority, but the edges were softened with concern. “Wha…what happened?” Jeffrey asked. “You don’t remember?” “Yeah...sorta. I was making, uh...with Sydney, then the Captain strangled me. Then I blacked out. Did he try to kill me?” Mr. Brown gave a mirthless laugh. “Son, if he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. No, this visitation was a warning.” A warning. Terrific. As though he needed another one of those warnings. “How long?” Jeffrey asked. “How long what?”

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“I’ve been out,” Jeffrey said. “How long?” “About sixteen hours.” “Sixteen hours! Sydney! My God, how’s Sydney? Where is she?” Jeffrey struggled to rise, but the pain in his head caused him to have second thoughts about that move. Easing his arm across him, Mr. Brown gently forced Jeffrey to lie back on the bed. “Slow young man, there’s time. You’ll need it to regain your strength.” “Sydney..." he choked out. It all came back to him in maddening clarity. Making love to Sydney, then yanked away; hearing her scream... If I can’t protect the woman I love, what the hell good am I? he thought in despair. “Miss Sydney is well and resting,” Mr. Brown said. “She’ll be waking soon. I’ve asked Mrs. Brown to sit with her while I checked on you.” “Mr. Brown, pardon my language, but just what the hell is going on around here?” The man paused for a moment, shaking his head. “Later, son,” he said. “Rest now, regain your energy. I will talk to you and Miss Sydney before the day is out. That is a promise. And I don’t break my promises.” He gently touched Jeffrey on the forehead, and against his will, Jeffrey felt his eyes began to close. The man has me in a trance of some sort, he thought, but oddly it did not bring any sort of fear to him. Something really weird is definitely going on here. What’s with Mrs. Brown and all these candles, the robe, and that eerie chant? These thoughts fled from his mind as he sank into a deep and welcome sleep.

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Chapter Seventeen

As Sydney came down the stairs she saw Jeffrey standing at the foot of the long staircase and felt relief. Mrs. Brown had told her he was all right. She was not ready to believe the woman until she laid eyes on him. He was pale. His eyes shifted nervously, but he was otherwise on his feet and none the worse for wear. Relieved, she flew down the steps straight into his arms, where he held her tight. “It takes more than a dumb ghost to finish me off, lover,” he murmured. Despite herself, Sydney laughed. “That’s better,” Jeffrey said, holding her at arm’s length. “I didn’t believe Mr. Brown when he said you’d be all right.” “No. I did not believe Mrs. Brown when she told me the same thing about you, either. But, Jeffrey, Mr. Brown stopped Yearling from...” “Shhh. Hush, love. I know. You do not have to say it. Mr. Brown, both Browns for that matter, know a lot more than they’re telling.” His face was grim. “I think it is time for some answers, don’t you?” he asked. She nodded. “Then come on,” he said. He took her by the hand, leading her into the kitchen. They halted at the door as they saw the Browns seated in the breakfast nook, contentedly sipping their tea, looking very much at home. Sydney tried to remember that just hours before, this man had managed to vanquish a ghost. She was having a hard time reconciling the two images. Mr. Brown got to his feet and nodded. “Evening, Miss Sydney…Mr. Jeffrey.” “Mr. Brown.” Jeffrey nodded back. Sydney could feel the pressure of Jeffrey’s hand on hers tighten a fraction “You two feeling better?” Mr. Brown asked, Sydney spoke up. “Yes, much better. Thank you.” She swallowed and met Jeffrey’s eyes, appreciative of his strength. “Now that we are rested, we need some answers.” Jeffrey spoke with a strong will. “I have been almost killed twice. Sydney has been, well, accosted is the only word I can think of, by some spirit or demon. And her friend, Tabatha...” Jeffrey broke off bleakly and shook his head. Mr. Brown sat back down, looking over to his wife. She nodded and stood, going to the counter and taking out the coffee grinder and beans, preparing to make a fresh pot of coffee. Jeffrey guided Sydney to the table and they both sat. “Mr. Brown, you promised you would explain everything today. I am not presuming to speak for Sydney,” he looked at her. She nodded back at him calmly, “but there’s something strange and very dangerous going on here, and we need to know what it is.” “Yes, you do.” Mr. Brown spoke with clear authority. “And Miss Sydney, I apologize for not telling you about all of this long ago, but you needed the other half to make this work. You needed the power. His power. Your time together has made you both that

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much stronger. Two halves of a whole, yin and yang. This is what will help.” “Please stop speaking in riddles, Mr. Brown.” Sydney could tell Jeffrey was angry but wanted to conceal it. Not that she blamed him. She had been pleasuring him, taking pleasure in doing so, and looking forward to their joining once again when the Captain had pulled them apart, almost killing Jeffrey and almost forcing her to... Sydney closed her eyes. “Miss Sydney?” Sydney opened her eyes to the comforting sound of Mrs. Brown’s voice. The older woman placed a cup of coffee in front of her before touching her on the shoulder. Sydney wrapped her hands around the hot cup, drawing some strength from the warmth. Jeffrey sipped from his own as he regarded Mr. Brown, who had tented his fingers and seemed to study them both intently. “Mr. Jeffrey, Miss Sydney. What I will tell you will be hard for you to believe. You have to listen with an open mind rather than simply your ears. Men of this world put their faith in substance, and only believe in what they can see or feel. There are things that go on all around us that would drive worldly men mad. I will tell you those things about this house. But first you must promise that you will listen from inside and push away your teachings that cause you to be shallow and less than you are.” Sydney glanced at Jeffrey and nodded at Mr. Brown. “Please, go ahead, sir,” she said, according him that respect. Mr. Brown flashed a grin and was silent for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. “There can be no end without a beginning, and the time has come to end this,” he said. “We…We can stop him?” Sydney murmured, and excitement showed in her voice. Why hadn’t Mr. Brown said something beforehand? “You’ve probably wondered why I have not said anything to you before, Miss Sydney,” Mr. Brown said, as if he had read her mind. “Before, you would not have believed. You would not have understood Captain Nathaniel Yearling’s great evil, and once the understanding took place, the belief would follow. You would not have had a chance to defeat him. Mr. Jeffrey’s presence has helped you believe. So you are ready now to hear.” Sydney swallowed and nodded. Ready? Maybe. But did she really want to hear what was about to be said? The memory of Tabatha being violated by the apparition struck her. That and the memory of Jeffrey being pulled from her was more than she wanted to deal with. Sydney felt a hardness grow inside, and she tightened her lips and nodded. “Well, then,” Mr. Brown said. “Many, many thousands of years ago, before countries united and built great empires, my ancestors inhabited the lush mountain regions of Southern Africa. There, at peace with their surroundings, they practiced the mystic arts.” “Voodoo?” Jeffrey queried. “It was much later that the term Voodoo came into use. Voodoo is not a bad religious practice. However, it does have a dark side that can, and has, been misused. The Voodoo of today is like a shadow to what it once was.

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“My people, for centuries, have provided services to Kings and Pharaohs as physicians, soothsayers and witch doctors. The centuries rolled past and things changed. Empires rose and fell. Christianity grew and spread. Instead of being supported for doing good, my people were cast as the practitioners of evil. No longer were we openly welcomed in the great houses, but rather we were shunned in public and used behind locked gates and hidden hideaways. After a time we withdrew back into ourselves and no longer served the outside. Of course there were the few that left on their own and performed the forbidden rituals for gold that soiled our heritage.” “Forbidden rituals?” Sydney asked. “Totems, voodoo dolls, the taking of life and, of course, the most famous, the waking of the dead…Zombies.” Mr. Brown swallowed, fear flashed in his eyes for a moment and then he continued. “The waking of the dead is a very precarious and dangerous undertaking. It takes a shaman of great skill and power to maintain a hold over the walking dead. If he waivers, even momentarily, his life may be forfeit. When the body and soul separate at death, the body remains and the soul moves on to the next level. We who are left behind have no power over that soul. A body cannot come back without a soul, so it is inhabited by a lesser demon controlled by the one who called it forth.” “The Captain is a zombie?” Jeffrey questioned. Not that Sydney could blame him. This was all sounding way too incredible. “No, young man, he is worse,” Mr. Brown said. “As I said, once the soul leaves the body we have no power over it. If a ritual is performed on the body and soul while still as one, the soul can remain here with us. In essence, it is trapped here until it is released. And this is what Captain Nathaniel has managed to do; to keep his soul, and his body, trapped here on this dimension.” “Is that what we have to do, release him?” Sydney’s voice was shaky. “Not quite that easy. The soul has to want to be released. You and Mr. Dillon will have to...In words…kill him.” “How?” both asked together. “Let me go on. Maybe you’ll find the answer. The beginnings of this story lie more than one hundred and fifty years ago, when America was just a young colony, struggling to find her destiny. Captain Nathaniel Yearling was familiar with the coast of Africa. As a young lieutenant in England’s navy, he was a decent man who knew many of the local chieftains and could set up trade. “He also led many excursions into the jungles, discovering many things that touched and tempted the greed that is in all of us. He was like many men; he knew he could become quite wealthy if he kept these things to himself. So he would trade, skim off some for himself, and turn the remainder in.” Mr. Brown paused to sip at his coffee. His eyes closed a moment in thought. Sydney saw this and wondered, with a shudder, what he remembered “Years went by.” Mr. Brown put down his mug and continued. “The Captain, older and wiser, left the navy to purchase his own ship, finding and building himself a crew of less than honorable men. Now, instead of transporting things, his cargo was that of human beings. He would transfer the unwanted peoples of England and the West Indies to America. “You have to remember. At the time, America was very rich and unspoiled, with

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timber and open farmland. Demand for labor increased. Yearling knew this, and he also knew where to retrieve enough manpower to supply the demand; and the cost would only be little more than the shedding of some blood now and then. “He was a slave trader, then.” Jeffrey’s voice was harsh. Sydney started at the sudden intensity. Mr. Brown gave him a somewhat cynical smile. “Why, no, son,” the man said. “He dealt in cargo. Human cargo, to be sure, but cargo nonetheless.” Mr. Brown shook his head and continued. “In addition to stealing men and women from these villages, both in England and the Indies, Yearling would take the riches that the natives had acquired. They were helpless against him, of course, so this just fueled his desire for riches further. He grew more ruthless. He would allow his men to rape the young women, beat the old and feeble to death, and stomp the heads of the children too young to be of service.” Sydney found herself trembling throughout the narrative and felt Jeffrey’s hand offer comfort. “We do not have to continue listening,” he told her, his voice low. She shook her head. “If we are to defeat this monster, we need to know what we are dealing with.” She looked at Mr. Brown and nodded. “Please continue. I am sorry for the interruption.” “This is not an easy story to hear, Miss Sydney,” he said. “But it’s one you must know to fight the Captain. Well. One day while on their excursions, Yearling learned an ancient tribe that lived in the smoke of the mountains, a tribe that could grant him everlasting life. This was appealing to Yearling, a man who had grown so arrogant and sure of himself he thought he could cheat death himself. “Taking a docile chieftain with him, Yearling and ten of his men found the remote village, tucked high into the mountains. After a day of observing the scantily clad and apparently weaponless villagers, Yearling and his men formed an attack plan and carried it out, attacking at midnight. The village was taken completely by surprise and with little resistance.” Mr. Brown drew a ragged sigh. “The following is bad, very bad, but it must be told. The male villagers were tied together and placed in the center of the village. The women placed around the men, and the children around the women. All were warned that if resistance was tried, the children would die first. Then the women were raped and killed. No one tried to take a stand.” “Why, no,” Jeffrey said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “I would imagine not.” Mr. Brown looked steadily at Jeffrey, who flushed and turned away. “The high priest of the village was forced to his knees before the Captain,” Mr. Brown continued as though the interruption had never taken place. “Through the Captain’s tame chieftain this priest was asked if he had the power to grant everlasting life. Though his face was weathered and wrinkled from his many years, his eyes sparkled with the strength of youthfulness and defiance. He did not utter a word. The Captain loved resistance. He loved to break haughty men, because it made the breaking that much sweeter.” Sydney nodded, unsurprised. Her views of the Captain were of a man who got off on breaking the strong and forcing them to succumb. She turned her attention back to Mr. Brown.

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“Yearling nodded to the chieftain, who went into a hut, returning with a young woman, no more than a child; the priest’s granddaughter. He saw the recognition in the old man’s eyes and this gave the Captain power. Placing the girl before the kneeling priest the Captain slowly moved behind her, his large hands gently resting on her small shoulders. Then, with a quick move, he tore the thin animal skin that covered her body. To her credit, the girl stood her ground. She did not flinch or make any sounds; she stood proud, unwilling to give. He pinched her tiny nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed down hard. A tear trailed from her eye but she made no move.” Sydney swallowed, remembering her vision of women abused in almost the same way. The look on Jeffrey’s face mirrored the distress on Sydney's face. She wondered what horrific visions of the Captain her lover carried. “He did not rape her, did he?” Sydney spoke. “He came close, Miss. Men like the Captain, they use the sexual act, not as a communion of love, but as power. This situation was no different. When the Captain exposed himself, telling the priest he would stuff this girl like a turkey if he did not talk, then throw her to his men while he watched, the priest could take no more. She was all he had left. So, with shame and guilt, he reluctantly agreed to the unspeakable thing he had asked. Mr. Brown took a shuddering breath. “I have told this story to a handful of people, and it does not become easier with the telling,” he explained. “But I am hoping it will help your understanding. The ritual took several days, certain herbs had to be gathered, a time of fasting was required to weaken the body, and some of the Captain’s blood needed to be collected. A totem was carved from a sacred tree. “When everything was ready, the Captain was placed in a tiny chamber with his crew nearby, with orders to slaughter the villagers if any harm came to Yearling. Nearby, a mixture of his blood and the herbs boiled, filling the room with a pungent odor. The totem hung just above the brewing liquid and the high priest sat chanting. Other priests encircled the two men, joining in the chant, adding their strength to the rite. After a while, the Captain’s body became drenched in sweat, his breathing loud. The chanting increased in tempo and volume. “The Captain’s body began to shake, then arched grotesquely with just his shoulders and heels touching the mat. The priest shouted a single word and all went quiet. As the Captain’s body relaxed, the priest retrieved the totem, placing it on his chest. The priest poured the remaining blood onto the totem, and then threw the container that had contained the blood into the fire. As the fire flared, the Captain sat up, his strength returning. “He was told that upon the natural death of his earthly body, his spirit would roam freely. He was then asked to leave. We know that before leaving, he ordered his crew to locate and chop down the sacred tree from which the totem was carved. He also gathered the young men of the village to take back with him as human cargo and the women.... ” Mr. Brown paused and shook his head sadly. “They suffered greatly. “The high priest of the village regarded the devastation and destruction he had allowed to happen; faced the Captain, and chanted tah-weh-oo-lumpa. The Captain simply laughed, leading his men and captives away.” Mr. Brown fell silent, troubled. “So that’s it?” Jeffrey sounded irritated and sarcastic. “Great history lesson, Mr.

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Brown! I am still waiting for the part about how we are supposed to kill him.” Sydney laid her hand over Jeffrey’s, giving him a warning glance. “There is more, isn’t there?” she asked Mr. Brown. The elderly man chuckled. “Indeed there is, Miss. The totem was laid into that desk in the library that has fascinated Mr. Jeffrey so much. We captured his soul to keep it here, but the Captain can walk only when he and the totem are near an ancestor whose bloodline is unbroken. That would be you in this case, Miss Sidney, as the bloodline is passed from mother to mother.” Sydney spoke, almost relieved. “But my bloodline is not pure, Mr. Brown. My father was an ancestor, not my mother.” He studied her in great compassion. Sydney wondered, to her dismay, what the hell else might be coming, what other truth was going to be revealed. “The man you knew as your father was not your birth father,” he said. “Nor was the woman you called mother your biological mother. Your birth mother was your Aunt Josephine. But having no husband and no desire for children, she agreed to allow your father and mother to adopt you.” “No!” Sydney got to her feet, staring at him, appalled. “You are insinuating that--that Aunt Josephine was my mother?” Her breath came harshly in her throat and her fists were clenched. Hadn’t she always known that she and her aunt had shared a very secret bond? Still... “No insinuation about it Miss,” Mr. Brown said in a calm tone. “‘Tis a fact. Ask Mrs. Brown if you don’t believe me. She was here the night you were born, the night Josephine was taken to the hospital.” Sydney collapsed in her chair, her world spinning out of control around her. She barely felt the comfort of Jeffery’s arm as it snaked around her shoulders. “The argument in the library,” she said, in a daze. “When I was eight, the argument my father and my aunt, I heard it. He kept saying the house should be burned down, or at the very least sold...” “He recognized the danger to you, Miss Sydney, even if he did not fully realize what it was,” Mr. Brown said. “But Josephine loved the house. It was where she was born. She did not recognize the danger until it was too late, and by that time she was possessed. She could not have escaped. It is why she entertained so much at the end. Many people in the house would at least negate the effects of Captain Yearling. She died in agony, Miss. I’m sorry to have to tell you that. She never believed in the ghost, but it haunted her to the end, having its way with her.” “Could not you have stopped her?” Sydney realized she sounded petulant, but she could not help it. Mr. Brown shook his head, his eyes watered. “Mrs. Brown and I could not intervene. Josephine did not believe. She was convinced it was her own mind going astray. She would not listen to what I’m telling you now.” Sydney felt tears running down her cheeks. The fact that her beloved Aunt Josephine, her mother as it turned out, had been tormented by the Captain until her death was unnerving. Aunt Josephine, you will be avenged, she promised herself in silence. “Are you one of these priests? The ones you mentioned earlier from the village?” Jeffrey asked.

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“No. I am not old enough. For another, I am what known as a guardian. I am related to those ancient priests, but am not one of them yet. I was called as a guardian.” “Women can be these guardians also?” Jeffrey wanted to know. “Yes. Mrs. Brown is one.” “What do you do?” “Many duties. We watch the resting places of our ancestors, monitor and disrupt the ongoings of renegade priests, mediate between the living and the dead. My specific job is to watch over the ancestor of the captured soul in that totem. On occasion I must confront him and send him back like I did last night. However my power is limited, I grow weak and soon I will be relieved. I have no real authority over the spirit and can only hold it back momentarily.” “So you cannot kill it,” Jeffrey mused. Mr. Brown shook his head. “Trust me, son. If I could have, I would have done so long ago. I cannot touch the totem. If I do, the spirit can consume me and take my body. It is why I do not dust the desk in there. I don’t dare.” Sydney stirred, trying to bring her mind into the conversation. “What was it that the high priest said? Ta…ta weoo?” “Tah-weh-oo-lumpa.” Mr. Brown pronounced it slow. “It means be gone with blood and fire.” “You said it the night that Tabatha was violated; when the Captain would have violated you, too,” Jeffrey pointed out. “I taught it to you when you were a little girl,” Mr. Brown said. “I told you it was an old African spell to chase away the bogeyman. Remember?” Sydney nodded. Yes, it all started to come back to her. “Was my bogeyman the Captain, even back then?” she wanted to know. “Yes” They were silent for a moment and then Mr. Brown continued. “I have little time left, and as I have said, my strength has diminished greatly. Please listen very carefully, you too, Mr. Jeffrey. You both have been given the gift and have the calling, not as guardians, but as priests.” Sydney caught her breath, looking at Jeffrey. She saw he was as stunned as she was. “You are both young and lack the know-how and teachings. You must learn them quickly. The good news is, you now have the bond of lovers, which is a strong bond. It is what has protected Mrs. Brown and me all these years. And now it can help you destroy the Captain and redeem your family’s honor, Miss Sydney.” “But what if I do not want to be a Priest?” she whined. Sydney was ashamed that she whined, but she was petrified, scared to death at what Mr. Brown was telling her. “None can force you. The choice must be made in free will. If your choice is to let this honor pass, I will do all I can to prolong my service until someone else can be located. You are of his blood, Sydney. You have the power over him.” Shaken, she stared at Mr. Brown and realized that, for the first time, he had called her by her given name without the honorific Miss before it. Jeffrey touched her arm and looked with grim features at Mr. Brown. “We need a little time to discuss this,” he said, but Sydney shook her head. “No we do not,” she said. “We accept.”

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“Sydney, it’s dangerous,” Jeffrey began. “It is even more dangerous if we do nothing,” she said calmly. “My aunt was tormented by that...that monster until she died. I doubt my life will be any better if we allow him to continue to walk. Are you really interested in sharing me with a jealous ghost?” Jeffrey smiled for the first time that night. It was a small smile, but a real one nonetheless. “Well, when you put it that way, Miss Yearling...” He turned to Mr. Brown and nodded. “Where do we go from here?” he asked.

Chapter Eighteen

The library was dimly illuminated and meat-locker cold; they could see the condensation of their warmed breath.

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Jeffrey lit the fireplace. The flames threw a comforting glow, but aided little in heating the room. Trying to swallow his fear, Jeffrey held his hand out to Sydney. She took it. He noticed the way it trembled, yet her face was calm. Jeffrey found himself in awe of her. She stood on the brink of possession, of losing her very soul and identity to an insane, cruel man, yet she managed to hold it all together. He could only hope he was worthy of her and the love she had for him. Together they made their way to the desk where, from what Mr. Brown said, the totem was placed. The Desk of the Damned! No wonder he had felt so strange when he had first laid his hands on this piece of furniture. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked. She nodded as they continued to hold hands; they both closed their eyes. Jeffrey forced himself to relax, to unshackle his spiritual self from his physical self. When he opened his eyes again he saw that the library was filled with men who were dressed in fine attire from the yesteryears. They seemed very real to Jeffrey except for a slight transparency, though these men did not pay the slightest attention to their visitors from the twenty-first century. Sydney startled as a man appeared to walk thru Jeffrey’s chest. He smiled at her reaction. “Yeah, Mr. Brown told me we would see apparitions from the Captain’s life that are tied to him. But they cannot see us or harm us. We have no authority over them.” “I am not so sure we have much authority over Captain Yearling,” Sydney muttered. Before he could respond, the crowd of men hooted and hollered in sudden approval. Jeffrey saw why. A harem of beautiful, scantily-clad women filed into the room. These women were not frightened as some of the others had been in his previous visions. Rather, they were smiling eagerly, ready for anything, it seemed. The sheer material that draped their bodies toga fashion did little to hide their attributes. The women fanned throughout the room, beginning to pleasure the various men present. Jeffrey’s attention focused on an attractive woman seducing one of the men, who was seated. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy her ministrations. Her large nipples protruded against the flimsy material of the gown she wore. She leaned her body into the man’s, pressing her breast to his chest. She fondled his crotch as she kissed his face. As she continued her foreplay, the man took a sip from the glass he held, his excitement evident by the growing bulge in his trousers. The woman knelt before him and unbuttoned his fly, releasing his semi-hard appendage. With tender consideration, she gripped his extremity at the base, moving her fingers up and down his shaft. He gazed at her with greedy pleasure as his cock grew hard, the fleshy head bobbing with her teasing. As she squeezed the shaft just behind the ridge of his crown, a clear, thick fluid trickled from the tip. With a moan of self-satisfaction, she darted out her tongue to lap up the viscous prize, stretching her plump lips around his shaft, allowing him to move deep into her throat. His head rolled back, his eyes closing as he moaned while she yanked his pants down to his ankles to reveal his scrotum and a thick forest of black hair that covered his

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groin. She continued to lavish his hardness with her mouth and lips while she cupped and kneaded his balls. She drove her mouth over his cock faster, coating his rigid flesh with her saliva. The man gasped, placing his hands upon her head to hold it steady, then drove his hips forward to plunge his thick cock deep. She held his hips for balance; eagerly and hungrily she took his assault. With fevered ferocity his rhythm increased. She did not falter, but took all he could give. He stiffened, buried deep in her warmth. A grimace crossed his features as his body seemed to have one spasm after another. She moaned as she swallowed his seed. When it was over he slumped with a smile of satisfaction. She released him, milking the last bit of residual cum from his now deflated cock. Jeffrey licked his lips at the erotic dance before him, aware of Sydney at his side. She trembled, but from nervousness or sudden arousal he did not know. Jeffrey knew it would not take much for him to remove his own pants and plunge himself into Sydney right now. He was so hard. He could tell by the sexual look in Sydney’s eyes that she would be ready, hot and wet for him...her sheath would grip him tight as he moved in and out of her... No. Mr. Brown had warned him not to become too intimate in the scene, to stay apart, to not get his thoughts and feelings tangled with these denizens of the past. He would be lost otherwise. Taking a few steady breaths, he focused on anything except the macabre orgy which took place before him. Jeffrey turned to Sydney and his blood froze. She was staring at the scene with intense fascination, her attention caught by a threesome across the room. She began rubbing her crotch, her breaths gasped as she did so. “Sydney!” He spoke to her sharply in hopes to catch her attention. He caught her attention all right, but not in the way he wanted. “Do you want to fuck me?” she asked. Jeffrey gaped, stunned by her use of the crude word. He had never heard her talk like that before. She smiled a sensuous smile at him, placing her hand between his legs. His semi-hard penis became rigid at her touch. He swallowed as she stroked him through his pants. What she was doing to him, combined with the mixture of lust from another age had begun to cause Jeffrey to lose all reason. “Fuck me, Jeffrey, give me your cock,” she raised her voice above the moans and shrieks of sexual license going on around them. “You are hard. You know you want it. I want it, too. I want your dick inside me, pounding me, making me hot and making me crazy.” “Sydney, no.” His protest was weak, lacking any sort of conviction. This was not his Sydney, the vulnerable, yet courageous woman he had grown to love. He was not sure who this person was, but her erotic effect on him was undeniable. He was just a few moments from tearing his pants off to take her on the floor with aggression. She clearly sensed the direction of his thoughts.

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Sydney ripped open her blouse, tearing off her bra to reveal nipples hard and swollen in her arousal. “Suck my tits,” she said. “God, I love it when you do that.” He swallowed, unable to resist her command, lowering his head and taking one of her hardened peaks in his mouth. He closed his eyes, engulfed by her scent and warmth as he suckled her, hard. His cock jumped as she moaned. “Yes, like that. God, I love it when you do it hard. Jeffrey, please, let me ride your big dick,” she begged. “Yes, Jeffrey ol’ boy. Let the lass ride your cock.” The sneered voice of the Captain shocked Jeffrey out of the sensual languor he had fallen into. He released Sydney’s breast, backing away a couple of steps, very wary of what was going to happen. Yearling had appeared by Sydney, an evil smile on his face. Unlike the other people in the room, the Captain was solid, all too real. He’s trying to ensnare me...he’s already possessed Sydney...it’s too late... The thoughts tumbled through his brain, causing him to freeze in fear as Yearling fondled Sydney’s ass through her pants. She moved against him, taking one of his hands, pressing it between her legs and thrusting it against her crotch. Still with his grin at Jeffrey, Yearling moved his hand up along her flat stomach and across one of her breasts. “So fine and firm,” he murmured, lowering his head to dance his tongue across her swollen nipple. Sydney closed her eyes as she purred with seductive acceptance. “Damn it, Sydney, snap out of it!” Jeffrey spoke in what he hoped was a loud and forceful tone. He hoped like hell that sheer loudness could bring her back to him. His hope all but died as she opened her eyes and glared at him. Again this was not the Sydney he knew, he had loved, or held in his arms. This brazen creature was well on the way of becoming a pawn to Captain Yearling. “Look Jeffrey, I want to get royally fucked,” she told him, her usual soft voice hard and strident. “Either you can have the pleasure of pumping my tight cunt, or I am sure the Captain here will be more than glad to fill my soaking twat. Better yet, I will take you both on.” She let loose a freakish laugh. Jeffrey shuddered. The Captain grinned maliciously at Jeffrey, slipping an arm around Sydney’s waist and leading her deeper into the room, into the center of the activity. As Yearling lowered his head to suck one of Sydney’s pert nipples she threw her head back with an ecstatic groan, and Jeffrey’s limbs refused to move. He could only watch her submission to a man from the past. Numb with terror, Jeffrey’s mind raced frantically, unable to land on the decision of what he should do. Helpless, he sank to his knees as tears of helpless rage and fear began to flow from his eyes. He was then yanked to his feet by his upper arms. Ready to open his mouth in angry protest, Jeffrey’s eyes met those of Mr. Brown’s. The small man, usually bordered between servile and benign, was furious. Jeffrey realized, with bemusement, that the man’s fury was directed at him. Jeffrey, seeing the woman he loved being seduced by his archenemy, was in no mood to be lectured to. He stared at Mr. Brown, his lip curled. “Thanks a lot, you bastard. You talked us into this, you and your God damned guardian bullshit. Now I’ve

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lost her.” He gestured to the Captain and Sydney, then looked away from their intimate pose. “What now, great guardian?” “What now?” Mr. Brown glared at him. “What now is you stop acting like a sniveling weakling and become worthy of the gifts you own. I warned you about this, Jeffrey Dillon. I warned you this wouldn’t be easy, that there would be consequences for this. What now is that you fight for her! If you truly love her, you fight.” Jeffrey bowed his head, realizing the sense of the man’s words. “But she is possessed,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “How do I fight against that?” “She is not possessed, not yet, but she is entranced. There would be no hope if she were possessed.” “You mean brainwashed?” “Similar... Better news for us all is you can bring her out of it, though you may have to cause her pain to do it.” “Good to see you could join us priest,” the Captain’s voice broke into their conversation, filled with gloat and hatred. “Where’s your lovely witch? I think her thick lips would fit nicely around this.” His pants undone, Yearling wagged his enormous cock with laughter. Sydney, by his side, licked her lips and touched his erection, her eyes glazed with eagerness. Jeffrey turned away, unable to deal with what he saw. “Your evil soul only has to deal with me today.” Mr. Brown spoke with determination. “My wife is quite busy elsewhere.” Aside to Jeffrey, he whispered. “Go to her now while I have his attention.” Jeffrey left Mr. Brown’s side, easing his way around the room. He was not quite sure yet what he was going to do, but at least the actions helped him forget about Sydney and Yearling...and how she seemed way too eager to be with him... She’s entranced, idiot. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and it’s up to you to stop it. “I do not care about your black witch. I have this delectable morsel by my side. It will give me great pleasure to sample her. I have waited a long time for this one.” Jeffrey overheard the Captain’s words and he shuddered. If he were permitted to take Sydney sexually, it would be the end for her. “You will sample nothing else, demon. Not her, not anyone else,” Mr. Brown said. Yearling’s laughter chilled Jeffrey’s spine. “Who’s to stop me? You? A withered up old Voodoo priest? A useless witch? Or are your hopes on that boy who cannot even protect his woman? Look, while he wanders about the room, apparently oblivious, she pets my rod, enticing me to spill my milk into her.” “Release her, for your blood runs through her veins and you have no power over her.” “Wrong again, priest. Witness my power.” Jeffrey saw Yearling turn his full attention to Sydney and became aware of a potential opportunity. “Kneel, wench, and suck the sweet juices from my balls,” Yearling commanded. Sydney, without protest, sank to her knees, obedient. Reaching out greedily, she closed her fingers around his huge shaft, her fingertips unable to circle his girth. Eager, she moved to him, prepared to bring him into her mouth.

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In a quick movement Jeffrey jumped in, grabbing her by her shoulders to yank her back. As she looked up at him she shrieked, anger spiking in her eyes at her thwarted sexual attempt. Jeffrey slapped her, hard. He put his anger into the blow, his fury at himself for his weaknesses, his fear of the Captain, and even, a little bit, his anger at Sydney, who claimed she loved him, yet had no problem with sucking off another man. The blow sounded as a gunshot, sending Sydney sprawling onto the floor, her cheek aflame with the imprint of his hand. Sick at heart, Jeffrey bent to help her to her feet, but was seized in the Captain’s great hands. He was held by the neck high above the ground; his legs kicked and flayed like a hanged man whose neck did not break. Jeffrey choked, gagging as the Captain began to squeeze hard, a tormented, evil grimace on the man’s face. “I am going to crush your body.” Yearling’s voice was a deep, throaty, evil growl. Jeffrey heard Sydney shriek and a moment later he crashed toward the floor as the Captain dealt with an attack from her. He hit the desk. Jeffrey noticed a piece of carving break free from it. Dazed, Jeffrey watched as Sydney flung herself onto the Captain’s back, gouging at his unprotected eyes. With a roar, Yearling reached over his massive shoulders to yank at his attacker. He pulled her over, holding her up with one hand to strike her with savage intent, sending her skidding along the wooden floor. Her forward motion came to a halt, landing her beside Jeffrey. As her head struck the side of the desk, blood poured from a wound that opened above her eye, flowing down her face. “Be still, demon.” Mr. Brown commanded with arms outstretched. “You’re next, bastard!” the Captain bellowed. “I will rip the guts from your body and hang them both with them.” Mr. Brown spread his arms wide and chanted, "‘Tah-weh-oo-lumpa.” He repeated the ancient spell, but with little effect. Jeffrey’s heart sank. With Sydney’s presence and the totem nearby, Yearling was all-powerful. Too powerful. With a sweep of his arm, Yearling hurled Mr. Brown into a collision with a bookshelf. So hard was the impact that books fell from their perch, landing on the old man’s body. Before he lost consciousness, Jeffrey caught three words. “Fire and blood…” That was it! Before Jeffrey could react, the Captain swept her up and toward him. She screamed in panic. Jeffrey was torn for a moment; he wanted with all his heart to rescue her. Fire and blood. The totem had to be his focus. At least the Captain would be distracted with Sydney. His heart ached, he heard her pleads as Yearling chuckled. Where was that damned totem? Jeffrey had seen it fall from the desk. But in the dim light of the library he could not place it. He crawled along the floor around the desk, desperate to try to shut his ears to

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the sounds of Sydney’s panicky pleas and cries and the lust-filled chuckles of the Captain. “Jeffrey! Oh, God, no!” His heart clenched at her shrieks. He forced himself to remember the last time he had seen the block of wood. His body didn’t want to obey and his head was in agony. There. Was that it? Jeffrey grabbed the block of wood with all the force he could muster and crawled to the fire, flinging it into the burning flames. The house shook with a tremendous roar as the Captain bellowed in agony. Jeffrey watched in horror as ragged holes appeared in the apparition’s flesh. His skin seemed to melt from his bones. Crying in anguish, Yearling dropped to the floor. His eyes became empty sockets, his skin dripped and hung like Jell-o from a skeletal frame. Yearling screamed again in terrible death throes. Jeffrey trembled as the man’s last hateful glance fell on him. Suddenly what was left of him burst into flame and then fell into a pile of ash. Everything became still. No more apparitions. Just the strenuous breaths of the unconscious Mr. Brown, the quiet crackle of the fire and Sydney’s quiet sobs. “Sydney!” Galvanized, Jeffrey jumped to his feet and raced to the sofa. She was still in the position the Captain had placed her, naked, bent over and crying. “Oh, my God, Sydney! He didn’t...” “No.” She managed a smile for him. “It was close, though. Too close.” She shuddered. Jeffrey took his shirt off to put it around her naked form. She leaned against him. In the dim firelight, he could see the cut on her forehead. He traced it and she winced. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding her close. “It will be okay,” she said. “It’s a head wound, and head wounds bleed a lot. Is it over? Oh, God, please tell me it’s over.” “It’s over,” Jeffrey said. “I watched him burn. Fire and blood just like Mr. Brown had said!” Sydney wept more. Jeffrey held her close to give her some comfort. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was lie down for a week and let this horrible nightmare wash away from him. He heard a muffled groan from the bookcase turning to see Mr. Brown sit up. The older man looked at them, his eyes steady. “Is it done?” Jeffrey nodded. “I think so. He turned into fire, then ashes.” “But how?” Sydney said. “How did that happen?” Jeffrey felt his mouth stretch into a semblance of a grin. “Why, it was as Mr. Brown said. The totem, part of the desk. The blood from your head wound, which was on the floor, and the totem that contained remnants of the Captain’s blood. Then it hit me. Fire and blood.” He drew a deep breath. “When I threw the totem covered with your blood in the fire, it was the same blood that ran through the Captain’s veins, as you are of his blood line. So the destruction of the totem and the blood in the fire destroyed the Captain.” Jeffrey still held tight to Sydney and glanced at Mr. Brown for collaboration. The older man climbed to his feet to approach the couple. He laid a hand on both of their shoulders, almost in benediction. “That’s absolutely correct, Jeffrey. Well done, both of

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you.”

Epilogue

Five years later… It was a bright, cool spring morning. Jeffrey sat in the library finishing up the final chapters of his next book. His little daughter, Josephine, named for Sydney’s biological mother, sat on the floor, playing with her toys. As Jeffrey’s eye fell on the little girl, he

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felt suffused with pure love. She had her mother’s huge blue eyes, light hair and dignified manner. And unfortunately, he sighed, she had also inherited her father’s somewhat melancholy moods. Mr. Brown peeked in the library, shaking his head. “I keep telling you, Mr. Jeffrey, your eyes are gonna fall out of your head if you keep with that computer.” Jeffrey smiled at the older man, whom he now called mentor. Though there was no more fear from noxious spirits, both he and Sydney had found Mr. and Mrs. Brown invaluable for control of their gifts, which had included some visitations from the spirit world. These weren’t frightening visits, rather, more annoying. “Well, someone has got to bring in the income around here,” he said in goodnatured fashion. “Sydney stopped working after the baby was born.” Mr. Brown raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though praying for patience. Jeffrey hid a grin. He and the older man went through this routine at least a couple of times a week. It never varied. “Anyway,” the other man continued. "I am going to go try my luck in that old pond. Would you and the little Miss like to come? It is a perfect day to get out.” “No, thank you. Sydney and I are going to take her down to the park later. You go on ahead. Just don’t catch them all.” He sniffed in mock disdain. “I will catch all I can. You never know when they will be biting again.” Mr. Brown left, but not without first catching Josephine’s attention and he threw her a wave She grinned back at him, waving a block in reply. Jeffrey reflected that Mr. and Mrs. Brown were probably the closest things she had to grandparents. His own parents, upon hearing about his elopement to Sydney five years before, had refused to have anything to do with either of them, convinced he had thrown his life away. He wondered what would happen if he were to share the story of that fateful night when he and his beloved wife had sent a member of the walking dead packing. He snorted his amusement. His parents would think he was certifiably insane. Sydney entered at that moment and, seeing the grin on her husband’s face, wanted to know what the joke was. He shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. “It would lose its humor in the translation.” She stared at him hard for a moment and then shrugged. Jeffrey was glad to see that the wariness in her eyes had started to leave some time ago. For months after that awful night she’d awakened screaming in his arms, convinced the Captain would still walk among them. It had taken himself and both Mr. and Mrs. Brown to convince her that Yearling had gone back to sleep among the dead. As Sydney went to pick up the baby, she tossed a letter to Jeffrey. “From Tabby,” she said. Jeffrey read the letter. “Well, she’s doing a lot better,” he said. “A promotion to assistant head nurse of the emergency room at Michael Reese? Not too shabby. Also says she has a dating life again.” “Yeah,” Sydney said. “A younger doctor.” She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “Amazing.” She set Josephine back down. She then leaned over Jeffrey’s shoulder and studied the computer screen. “So how’s it coming, gorgeous? Do we have

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a best seller?” “A few more pages. At this point I will just settle for a seller, no best about it.” “You’re too modest,” she told him. “The last one got us a pretty respectable income. And the one about the Captain optioned as a movie. I never thought that hated ancestor would actually bring us good things.” Jeffrey grabbed her and scooped her into his lap. Caught by surprise, she flailed for a moment and smiled, settling herself on him, putting her arms around his neck. His body responded predictably. Sydney giggled. “Hmm, something come up?” “Gee, Mrs. Dillon. Like you have to ask stupid questions?” He gave her a quick kiss, looking at his daughter, who was absorbed in her blocks. “Not to worry, Jeffrey. I will see if Mrs. Brown wants to watch her.” As Sydney slipped off his lap and rushed from the room, Jeffrey smiled in anticipation. No way was Mrs. Brown going to refuse. She adored the child. A few moments later, Sydney returned with Mrs. Brown following. “I will take the child out front for a little,” she told them. “Don’t worry about anything, okay?” “Oh, no worries, Mrs. Brown, none at all,” Jeffrey said, grinning at his wife. Sydney met his glance, her eyes sparkled. “So what do you think?” Sydney asked after Mrs. Brown had taken Josephine away. “Well, it has been awhile since we have actually made love in the bedroom,” Jeffrey said. “Seriously, we have had sex in practically every other room in this house. Josephine, in fact, was conceived right here in this room, in front of this fireplace...” “Making love in a bedroom,” Sydney said. “What a novel idea. But... ” she started out of the room, throwing a playful smile over her shoulder, “you have to catch me first.” She was out the door, Jeffrey following her, chasing her up the stairs. So intent were they on one another, they had forgotten about Josephine’s toys, scattered around the library floor. Among the toys were the little girl’s blocks. And among those blocks were spelled the word CAPTAIN.