Secrets of the Dead

SECRETS OF THE DEAD SHIELA STEWART

SECRETS OF THE DEAD Published by Linden Bay Romance, 2007 Linden Bay Romance, LLC, U.S. ISBN Trade paperback:

978-1-60202-046-7 ISBN MS Reader (LIT): 978-1-60202-047-4 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): PDF, PRC & HTML Copyright © SHIELA STEWART, 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED The work is protected by copyright and should not be copied without permission. Linden Bay Romance, LLC reserves all rights. Re-use or re-distribution of any and all materials is prohibited under law. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental. Cover art by Beverly Maxwell

I would like to thank Barb, for believing in me when so many others wouldn’t. Your guidance and support has been a tremendous help to me. Thanks for not tossing me to the wolves. I couldn’t have asked for a better editor.

Shiela Stewart

Prologue She stood in the silence of the house, a tiny figure in white. The air around her was still now; it hadn’t been so moments ago. The turbulence had rocked the walls, shook the foundation, but she’d won in the end. A small victory she knew, and one that would not last long. Another would come, another would bring their family here, but she feared it would not be the right one For so long she’d waited for someone to come and free her and her family from the endless torment that had befallen them. Yet still they remained, locked to this place, locked to the secrets that had destroyed them all His anger was one she knew not to tangle with, yet she had for so long now. She would not allow his sick obsession to ruin another female’s life when he’d ruined so many. It was time to put a stop to it all She’d forced this family out like she had so many others before, and she would continue until the right one came along. She stood in the silence of the house, a tiny figure in white. Death had claimed her many years ago, but she still remained, longing for someone to come and release the secrets of the dead.

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Secrets of the Dead

Chapter 1 The sun beat down on the black sedan creating a sauna like atmosphere inside the car. Jessie wiped the sweat from the back of her neck and cursed the mechanic that had sworn to her he’d fixed her air-conditioning. The heat wave currently suffocating them wasn’t giving any indication of letting up anytime soon. Sitting in a muggy vehicle, with no air, stuck in a traffic jam due to someone’s car overheating, only added to Jessie’s already tense nerves. She had an appointment to make and she was close to running late. Not that it had been her choice to take the assignment. She never should have answered the phone when it rang; she should have let the answering machine pick it up. But she’d scooped it up before checking the caller ID, her mistake. So now she was sitting in a sweltering car, hating the heat and the idiots who wailing on their horns—like that would help get things moving along. If only she’d had more guts when her boss had called to demand she take on this assignment. If only she’d argued more when he’d explained that it would only take three days out of her vacation. If only never got you anywhere. She’d taken the assignment, end of story. A haunted house. Those words always made Jessie laugh. Why was it that people could believe in something as absurd as spirits coming back after death to torment? When you died, you died, that was the end, or so Jessica believed. The owners of this house she was on her way to investigate claimed that spirits possessed their property, forcing them to flee. It was absolutely absurd, but she was going to spend the two nights her boss demanded in the house and prove them wrong. Jessie had been with Hoax Busters Investigations for four years now and had been on more crappy assignments than she could count. And she was damn tired of it all. 2

Shiela Stewart They were hired mostly to investigate claims of fraud and misrepresentation, as well as compensation claims that weren’t on the up and up. And, occasionally they were also called in when a house was suspected of paranormal activity. There were rumors that her boss, Dylan McCray, wasn’t exactly on the up and up either. But they were only rumors; she had no facts to prove them right, even though she despised the man and hated the crap he always handed her. That was one of the reasons why Jessie was looking for a better job. If everything went well, this would be the last time she would have to deal with her boss and the garbage assignments he always sent her on. Hired by Danbury Realtors to investigate claims that the house they’d put on the market was haunted, she figured it wouldn’t be too hard, considering there was no such things as ghosts. Oh, she knew there were people who vehemently argued that there were, but she didn’t believe it. C.J. Dowling came to mind. Now he was a piece of work. The man actually made a living investigating supposed ghosts. They’d run into each other on occasion, working the same investigation, and every time she met up with him, she had the same reaction. Irritation. She wondered if he’d been called to this house. It was the sort of thing that would be right up his alley. She was pretty sure he’d heard about it. If Hoax Busters had heard of it, C.J. must know of it. Apparently the owners had contacted the local TV affiliate with their story of spirits invading their home, forcing them out, and the real estate company was having a hard time selling it now. Go figure. So, she was on her way to the house to meet with the real estate agent who was waiting for her with the keys. That was, if she ever made it out of this damn traffic jam. 3

Secrets of the Dead Swiping the damp bob of hair from her face, Jessie waited impatiently for the traffic to start moving. She could feel the leather seat beneath her and knew that if she tried to stand up, it would stick to her clammy body. God, she wished for rain. Impatience getting the best of her, she did as so many had done before her and wailed on the horn, dramatically waving her hand in the air in a show of frustration. All that did was piss the other drivers off and get some rude obscenities shouted at her. Ignoring them, she turned her music up and tried to be patient. Hell, she was never patient. So she slipped her cell phone from her purse and checked for messages. It was going to be a long day. ~ Enjoying the cool air blowing over his face, C.J. Dowling sat in his truck, smoking casually while he looked over his notes. He was a meticulous man, and it showed in his work. With the laptop open on his lap, he made sure he was ready for the job. He was always ready for the job, who was he kidding, but he always double checked just to be certain. It was just past one in the afternoon, the temperature outside was only twenty degrees Celsius, but the humidity made it feel much worse. The heat and humidity was typical of a Vancouver summer, and July 1999 was proving to be a scorcher. It made him damn glad he was in a cool vehicle. It was unfortunate that the house he was sent to investigate didn’t have central air. He’d been called three days ago by the owners to investigate claims of spiritual activity in their home. Reports of voices and screams were reported as being heard by every member of the Conner family. It especially bothered the wife, who also claimed of being touched and caressed by something or someone. C.J. didn’t doubt their claims, but he was here to prove it and to deal with it as best he could. 4

Shiela Stewart He was a Paranormal Investigator working for the Spiritual Realm, a company dedicated to investigating paranormal activity and to rid properties of any spirits still clinging to this life. C.J. had an inside track on the spirits, being a medium or Spiritual Contact as he preferred. If there was a ghost about, C.J. Dowling could sense it simply by entering the property. It had been that way for him for as long as he could remember. The dead spoke to him, and he listened. Shutting the vehicle off, in turn cutting off the nice cool air, he opened the door and was blasted by a wave of heat. Doing his best to ignore it, he grabbed his laptop, slung his overnight bag over his shoulder, then headed to the house. Standing before it, C.J. admired the beauty of the home. There weren’t many like it that were still standing today. Built in the early nineteen hundreds, in an area that had once been called Blueblood Alley, where only the upper class could afford to live, it had survived a fire and countless storms that had battered away at the paint, but it was still standing. An early Victorian house with a touch of modernization, and no one wanted to live in it because it was supposedly haunted. What a shame. Unlocking the front door, he knew the instant he entered that the claims were accurate. This house was definitely possessed by spirits. ~ Pulling into the driveway, Jessie saw the white truck and knew instantly who it belonged to. Irritated by the heat and having had to wait in clogged traffic for nearly an hour, put Jessie in less than a jovial mood. Receiving a message from the realtor stating he wouldn’t be able to make it after all and would leave the keys in the mail box pissed her off. Slipping out of the muggy car, the warmth of the afternoon sun snapping out at her as it hit her skin, Jessie fumed. What the hell was he doing here? 5

Secrets of the Dead Grabbing her overnight bag, she trudged her way to the front door. Blowing air over her face, she reached out for the door just as it opened. She snarled her greeting. “Dowling.” “Jessica.” “What the hell are you doing here?” The guy grated on her nerves, always did. He was so cocky, so selfrighteous. “Working. What are you doing here?” “I’m here on assignment.” “Assigned by whom?” “Danbury Realtors. I was supposed to meet the agent here, but something came up and he had to cancel. He left a set of keys in the mail box.” “Hmmm, interesting. Oh, well.” “Oh, well? What the hell does that mean? Dowling?” She called out his name as he moved towards the truck. When he didn’t stop, she hurried after him. “Dowling!” Pulling the box with his equipment out of the truck, C.J. replied evenly “Yes, Jessica?” Oh, how his calm nature annoyed her. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him raise his voice or a hand in anger. How could one person manage to be so damn calm all the time? “What did you mean by saying, oh, well?” “Just that. Can you get the door for me? My hands are otherwise occupied.” He smiled at her brightly. Growling, she pushed the door open for him, then stood in the way. “What are you doing?” “Taking my equipment into the house.” “Why?” He shifted the box. “I need it to do my job. Excuse me.” Snarling, she moved aside. “Today?” “Yes, Jessica, today.” Setting it on the floor, he turned to get the box of groceries from the truck, then paused to 6

Shiela Stewart look back at her. “Did you cut your hair? No, wait, you highlighted it. Looks interesting.” Frowning, she touched a hand to her short red hair with blonde highlights. “What do you mean by interesting?” she asked, following after him. “Just that. So how long are you planning on staying?” “Staying where?” What was wrong with her hair? She liked it, everyone she knew liked it. “Here.” He smiled at her over his shoulder as he walked back to the house. He’d managed to fluster her mind and it annoyed her. “A couple of days.” “Well, then, I guess we’ll be roomies. Door, please.” “I’m not your fucking doorman, Dowling, get it yourself.” “You look hot Jessica. Didn’t you have the air on in your car?” C.J. responded, giving the door a push with his hip. “It’s busted. What do you mean, we’ll be roomies?” She followed him into the house, the door swinging shut behind her. Setting the box down beside the other, he stood, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be staying here for a few days. You should have it looked at.” “Have what looked at? And there is no way in hell you’re staying here while I’m here, Dowling.” The guy was always running his hands through his sandy blonde hair, mussing up those soft waves so it looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. Okay, sure, it was nice hair, but did he have to keep drawing attention to it like that? “The air in your car, and I will be staying here whether you like it or not.” He held his hand up to silence her protest. “I’m here on request of the owners, so therefore, I have priority. If you don’t like it, come back another day.” Turning, he knelt down and lifted the box of video equipment and carried it from the foyer to the living room. 7

Secrets of the Dead Aghast, Jessie threw her arms in the air and marched after him. “You have some nerve, Dowling. I’m staying, you leave.” He set the box down, turning to her. “Looks like you have a problem then, because I don’t intend to leave. Now, we can stand here and argue all day, or we can come to some sort of a truce and both do our jobs.” Her eyes narrowed. There was no damn way she was giving up and leaving. Biting her lip, she nodded. “Fine, but stay out of my way.” “Same goes, Jessica.” “It’s Jessie.” He simply smiled at her and turned back to his equipment without responding. “So, you’re here to prove there are no ghosts, I presume?” “You got it, ace, but I wouldn’t overwork that brain of yours. You might need it later on.” He didn’t bother to acknowledge her and began setting up the cameras. “Good luck.” “With what?” “Proving the lack of entities on this property.” She snorted in response. “Not a problem, slick.” Standing, C.J. held his hand out to her. “What do you say to a friendly wager then, Jessica?” “It’s Jessie, and what kind of wager?” “I bet you can’t stay here and leave in two days still a non-believer.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s an easy one because I’ll win. What's the wager?” “If you leave here in two days time, still believing there are no such thing as ghosts, I’ll buy you dinner.” Her brow lifted. “My appetite’s a little more refined than burgers, Dowling.” His brown eyes narrowed mockingly. “Tacos it is, then.” “You’re a riot. And if I win?” 8

Shiela Stewart His smile was quick and looked oh so devious. “I’ll eat my shoes.” “Deal.” She took his hand and the instant she did she found herself being yanked against him, his mouth pressed against hers in a quick kiss. “What the hell?” she sputtered after yanking herself free. He released her with a smile. “Just sealing the deal, darling.” Whistling joyfully, he grabbed the box of groceries and headed to the kitchen. Flabbergasted that he would pull such a trick, Jessie huffed, spinning on her heels. Okay, so he had a nice mouth, but that didn’t mean she had to like him.

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Chapter 2 C.J. went about his business as usual, trying not to notice Jessica’s presence. He set the camcorders on their tripods, then placed the microphones so that any noise would be picked up and recorded easily. The thermometers were placed, one in each room on the lower level of the house, and one in the hallway leading upstairs. The Electro Magnetic Field detectors were set up in each room on the lower level, as well as one in the upstairs hallway. Finishing up, he pulled out the tape recorders, placing one on the dining room table, one on the living room fireplace. The micro recorder in his hand was for his own benefit in recording thoughts. Which, he had plenty of those to record at the moment. “As I entered the property, I was greeted with the familiar sensation of paranormal activity.” He began, wandering through the house, making sure everything was set up properly. “I have no doubt there are multiple entities here. I have conflicting sensations, one of calmness and another of unease. But the strongest sensation I am feeling is that one of the occupants is not pleased with my presence.” “Occupants.” Jessie snorted behind him. “The voice you just heard was not that of a spirit, but Jessica Coltrane, though she does resemble the living dead.” He clicked the recorder off as he turned to her. The look she gave him was anything but pleasant. It was interesting, he thought, that even annoyed, she was pretty. Maybe it was the deep green doe eyes or the round innocent looking face that drew him in, but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be impressed if he told her so. “You’re a riot, Dowling. Look at all this crap. It always blows me away, the things you use to ‘prove’ life after death.” Shaking her head, she examined the cameras and microphones he had set up. “You pick up a mote of 10

Shiela Stewart dust in the air on film, and whamo, it’s a spirit. What a joke.” “Laugh if you like, but if you saw what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss that ‘mote of dust’.” Unaffected by her attitude, C.J. took a note pad and pen and began making notes. “Whatever. So far, all I’ve seen is a house full of belongings left behind by chicken shit people too afraid to come back and get what belongs to them. But no spirits of the undead.” She said the last waving her hands in his face. “The day is still early,” he responded lightly as he wrote in his pad. “Right, I forgot. Spirits come out at night to scare people, not during the day.” Casting her eyes to the ceiling, she dropped down on the sofa, resting her feet on the coffee table. “Not all spirits are evil, and not all come out at night. There are spirits all around us, Jessica; they just don’t always choose to make themselves known.” “God, how moronic. You don’t honestly believe that crap?” Lifting calm brown eyes, C.J. nodded. “Full heartedly.” And why wouldn’t he, when he could feel them as equally as he felt her presence. “Then you’re a moron.” He set his pen down carefully, then the pad, before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. After blowing the smoke from his lips, he spoke. “Do you believe in God, Jessica?” “It’s Jessie, and what does God have to do with anything?” He preferred Jessica. “People are so willing to believe in a God they’ve never seen simply because a book says so. Yet they scoff at spirits coming back from the dead. Jesus rose from the dead, did he not?” Her mouth dropped open. “Are you for real? You can’t honestly be comparing ghosts to God?” 11

Secrets of the Dead “Do you believe in God, Jessica?” he repeated calmly. “Stop calling me that, damn it. And yes, I believe in God.” “Why does your proper name bother you so much?” “I prefer Jessie, that’s all.” He shrugged in response and flicked his ashes into the ashtray he had scooped up off the coffee table. “How can you believe in God if you’ve never seen him or her?” “He created the world we live in.” “Did he, or was it created by—” “No, no, I am not getting into how the world was created with you. Jesus, I should know better than to start a conversation with you.” She stood, giving her short shorts a tug. “I’m going to check out the contents of the fridge, see what I can make to eat. Do me a favor, stay away from me.” He watched as she walked from the room, her hips swaying back and forth, those tight shorts she wore riding up nicely, molding a firm set of buns. The legs attached to those buns were incredibly long, tanned and damn sexy. He wondered what she would say if he told her how hot she looked. Shrugging it off, C.J. put his cigarette out and went back to his work. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by the beautiful spit fire known as Jessica Coltrane. ~ It was unnerving, having the video equipment and doodads monitoring her every move, but Jessie did her best to try to ignore it all. The refrigerator was surprisingly full, as were the contents of the cupboard; then again, the owners had only left a week ago. Stupid people, why hadn’t they hired someone to clean the place out before they put it on the market? Sniffing the sandwich meat, she decided it smelt fresh enough and helped herself. And while she was helping herself, she might as well make a salad to go with the sandwich. With an arm full of supplies, Jessie turned just as C.J. entered the room. 12

Shiela Stewart “Quite the appetite you have there, Jessica.” “Why do you insist on calling me that when you know I prefer Jessie?” Setting the contents on the table, she began making the salad first. “Isn’t Jessica the name on your birth certificate?” He took the cucumber and began slicing it into bite sized pieces for the salad. “Yes, and while we’re on the subject of names, what’s on your birth certificate, C.J.?” She emphasized, her eyes lifting to his. “C.J., I had it officially changed several years ago.” He wiggled his eyebrows, giving her a cocky grin. She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you had it changed. What was it before the change?” Dumping the lettuce into a bowl, she began shredding some cheese for the topping. “You tell me.” Her eyes lifted to his, her lips frowning. “You want me to guess your name?” “Sure, might be good for a laugh.” Scooping up the cucumbers he had just chopped up, he set them in the bowl, then turned to grab two bowls and two plates. Pursing her lips, thinking, she tried to figure out what his name might be. “Carl?” “Nope.” Setting the plates and bowls on the table, he began making his own sandwich. “Chad?” “Please, do I look like a Chad?” “Well, give me a hint, then.” Sitting down, she scooped up some salad and placed it into her bowl. “Sure, I was named after my grandfather.” When she slanted her head and gave him a mildly annoyed look, he continued. “Who also happens to own one of the largest book stores world wide.” “Oh yeah, that helps. Jesus, Dowling, there are dozens of book stores, how am I supposed to figure out your name with that sort of clue?” Jabbing her fork into the salad, she gave an undignified roll of her eyes. 13

Secrets of the Dead Shrugging, he shoved the sandwich into his mouth and chewed. Frustrated, she decided to give up on the name and change the subject. “So, I’ve been here for four hours now, and I have yet to see anything that will sway me from my earlier belief. This place is not haunted.” As if on cue, the lights flickered. “That was a power surge.” “Hmm,” Lifting from his chair, he walked to the EMF to check the reading. “All that’s going to tell you is that, yes, there was a surge in power.” He shrugged, checked the instrument and marked it down, then took his seat at the table. “Well?” “Well what?” he stabbed a carrot and shoved it into his mouth. “Am I right?” “About what?” She snarled. “The power surge.” “This is a pretty good salad,” he replied, deliberately not answering her. She growled. “Are you going to answer me?” “No, because anything I say you’ll rationalize rather than try to think beyond your ‘box’.” Lifting the sandwich, he finished it off. “Or you aren’t telling me because the only thing that device showed was a surge in power.” “Have you ever made contact with an entity, Jessica?” She hated that he continued to call her that and she knew he knew it. “No, C.J., can’t say I have, and maybe that’s because ghosts don’t exist.” “Have you ever seen the wind?” “Oh, Lord, spare me.” “Just because we can’t see something, doesn’t make it unreal.” “Okay, I’m up for an argument, I’ll bite. If spirits exists, why hasn’t anyone ever captured one on film?” 14

Shiela Stewart “Plenty have been documented, but people are still reluctant to believe.” “They’re reluctant because what we see is so ludicrous it can’t be believed.” Pulling out a cigarette, C.J. lit it casually before speaking. “Yet you believe that Jesus walked on water, or healed people. To some, that’s ludicrous. Or how about Moses, he parted the Red Sea. You weren’t there to witness it, yet you believe it because you’ve been taught it your entire life.” “And let me guess, you were taught about ghosts, growing up as a child?” “No, I was taught to believe in God.” He blew a ring of smoke in the air. “But I believe in the paranormal because I’ve witnessed it first hand.” She pushed her empty plate and bowl aside. “Oh, I’m sure you have. In that deluded little mind of yours. You’re a card, Dowling.” She stood, shaking her head as she left the room. ~ Lighting a cigarette, sitting at the table long after Jessica had left the room, C.J. went over the information he’d gathered, waiting. Jessica was partially right in saying the EMF could pick up energy spikes, but he’d learned a long time ago, the differences between spikes and a spiritual encounter. This time had not been a spike and he felt the presence moments before it registered on the machine. Lifting his head, he saw the tiny figure standing across the room, and smiled as he spoke. . “Hello there.”

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Chapter 3 She was the sweetest thing he had ever seen. Her fall of long sandy blonde hair looked lush and gorgeous. She had a face as delicate as an angel with eyes as blue as the sky on a bright cloudless day. The night dress she wore was a silky white and came to the tip of her tiny pink feet. But C.J. knew this child was not with the living, despite her appearance. “Who might you be?” he inquired, the cigarette he had placed in the ashtray long forgotten. Lifting her tiny arm, she crooked her finger in a gesture for C.J. to follow her. “Okay, where are we going?” But as he took his first step towards her, she suddenly spun, facing the entrance to the kitchen, then vanished. “Wait. Damn it.” He knew from feel that she was no longer with him. “Talking to yourself again, Dowling?” Stepping into the room, Jessie was nearly knocked off her feet when C.J. ran past her. “An excuse me would have been polite.” He came back into the room, moments later and ran directly to the camcorder sitting on the counter. Hitting rewind, C.J. let it run while he checked the EMF. There had been a significant spike in the reading and the digital thermometer had read a drop in temperature. Jotting it down in his note pad, he heard the tape stop. Setting the pad down, he turned back to the tape and pressed play, angling the screen to get a better view. “Damn.” “Problem?” she asked comically, as she sat idly swinging her foot. “The tape is scrambled.” Typical, it was rare that a poltergeist showed up on tape, but it was worth a try. The fact that it had recorded perfectly fine up until the moment she had appeared indicated it wasn’t the system. “What a shame.” His eyes lifted to her, anger registering in the deepening brown. He slipped a cigarette from his package 16

Shiela Stewart as he responded. “Was there a reason you came back into the room, or do you just like to annoy me?” If she hadn't come back into the kitchen, he might have been able to get some answers out of the tiny apparition. “Testy. I wanted a drink. Why do you smoke? It’s such a filthy habit.” “Everyone has some sort of vice, this is mine,” he snapped at her, rewinding the tape for a double check. “What's the big hub bub anyway? Did you see a ghost, Dowling?” she mocked with a chuckle. Letting out a deep breath, he lit the cigarette, drawing in a deep breath, then releasing a cloud of smoke in the air. “Yes, Jessica, I did see a ghost, but you scared her off. Doesn’t surprise me, you give off that sort of ‘vibe’,” he countered in his usual calm manner, the insult no less potent. “Ha ha. Do tell, what did this ‘ghost’ look like?” Resigned to the fact that she was a diehard skeptic, he decided to let it be, for now. “What do you know about this house?” “I know it’s not haunted,” she replied snidely. “Besides that.” “Not much. I was hired to come in, scope out the place and report back with my findings.” “Such as, your belief that it’s not haunted.” “Bulls-eye.” She tapped her nose. “So, you never researched it at all?” “Why should I?” “Well, it might be nice to know some history before passing judgment.” “I don’t need to know the history to decide if it’s haunted or not.” Her attitude was typical of most people. “So how do you determine if the claims are factual or not?” “I spend the night.” “That’s it?” She shrugged. “So one night in a house is all the proof you need. No equipment, nothing?” 17

Secrets of the Dead “I’m not a paranormal investigator, Dowling,” she said mockingly. “Unbelievable. So there are no facts in your findings? You do know that’s not exactly scientifically sound?” “I’m not a scientist. I do only what I’m told to do and nothing more. What can I say, I hate my job.” Shaking his head, C.J. drew on his cigarette before speaking. “What if I told you that, in nineteen thirteen, the upper floor was ravaged by a fire that claimed six lives, four of which were children?” “I would say that was pretty awful.” “And after that fire, it was bought by the city, repaired and put on the market. I have documented accounts of people claiming the house was haunted as far back as nineteen sixty five.” “What about the fifty two years between that? No one claimed anything then?” “If it was claimed, it wasn’t documented.” “So, what are you trying to say?” “That perhaps this house is haunted by the spirits that died so tragically in that fire, back in nineteen thirteen.” She snorted. “What proof do you have to validate that claim?” “The little girl that visited me right before you showed up.” “Little girl, huh, and what did she have to say to you?” “As I said earlier, you scared her off.” With quick tapping motions he put the cigarette out in the ashtray. “But I believe she might be one of those children that died here all those years ago.” “You believe, but what proof do you have, Dowling? Nothing, because there are no such things as ghosts.” She pushed from the table, leaving her glass behind. “I’ve chosen the room next to the washroom on the left. See you in the morning.” He watched as she left the room, disappointed by her reaction, but prepared for it. It was hard to convince a 18

Shiela Stewart skeptic, and most times he simply ignored them. He wasn’t sure why this time he felt the need to convince her. Pushing from the table, he went back to his notes. ~ The room she had chosen had obviously once belonged to a female child. The décor was pink and frilly and so not like her. But, it was either this room, or the one with mirrors on the ceiling, which she figured had belonged to the parents, or a room with model airplanes floating from the ceiling and a race car for a bed. She could handle the frilliness for two nights, she supposed. The room was absolutely stifling, even with the window open. Stripped down to her bare essentials—a white silk and lace matching bra and panties—Jessica climbed into the silky pink bed with her notes. In the years since she had been investigating supposedly haunted houses, she had never once found any validity to the claim, and this house was no different. She made her notes, documenting the time and date and what she had done throughout the day, then set the file aside and stretched out in the bed. Three more days and she would be off to her vacation and the job interview she hadn't mentioned to anyone. Over the past three years she had come to realize she wanted more in life than just investigating houses, debunking cases of fraud and writing a small excerpt in a small magazine. She wanted more. Clicking the smiling Cinderella lamp off beside her, Jessie slid beneath the covers and told her mind to shut down. She did what she did every night to relax, and imagined laying on a beach, under a blanket of twinkling stars, the ocean waves soothing her mind. When she felt the sudden chilly breeze, she didn’t think anything of it and pulled the blankets higher. Turning her back to the door, she tried to get comfortable. The faint creaking was heard vaguely over the crashing waves in her mind. Breathing deeply, sleep 19

Secrets of the Dead beginning to capture her, she didn’t notice the bed give beside her. Uncomfortable, she rolled onto her back, stretching her legs out, shifting the blankets with her movement. Kicking the blankets below her thighs, trying to cool down, comfortable now, Jessie frowned at the sensation of something moving along her leg. She kicked out lightly, and went back to sleep. When the sensation tickled her belly, she swiped at it with her hand. When it moved to her breast, pinching the nipple, her eyes shot open. Jolting upright, flicking the light on, she couldn’t see anything that might have been responsible. Pursing her lips, she clicked the light off, then laid back down, trying to get back to sleep. Rolling onto her side, facing the door, she released a long breath and closed her eyes. She felt it again, sliding up her thigh, over her hip and along her side. Bolting out of bed, she shrieked, swiping wildly at the imaginary bugs she thought were crawling over her flesh. The light flicked on, she turned and screamed.

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Chapter 4 “Holy hell you’ve got lungs.” Giving his ears a rub, C.J. glanced at Jessica, clad in a very skimpy set of undies. He’d been heading to the washroom when he’d heard the commotion coming from her room. Seeing her half naked reminded him he wasn’t wearing much more. “What’s the matter?” “There’s…there’s bugs…bugs in my bed.” Practically standing on tip toes, she pointed frantically to the bed behind her. Frowning, C.J. walked to the bed; lifting the covers he examined the linens. “I don’t see any bugs here.” “Well there were, maybe they crawled on the floor.” Letting out a deep sigh, C.J. got down on all fours and checked the floor. “There are no bugs here, Jessica.” He stood, turned to her. “Tell me exactly what you felt?” “A bug, or bugs, crawling up my thigh, along my stomach. One even bit me.” “Show me.” He stepped towards her and drew a curious glance when her arms came up protectively over her breasts. “No, I can’t. It bit me, just trust me.” “Well, no offence intended, darling, but if I were a bug I wouldn’t mind taking a casual walk over something as fine as that display.” His eyes shifted from hers to slide seductively over the fine curves on her body. Stop drooling, Dowling.” Grabbing the blanket, she covered herself. “What the hell are you doing in my room anyway, and half naked at that?” It was a shame she was covering up that luscious body. “I heard some commotion in your room and thought maybe you were in trouble . The gentleman in me had to make sure you were okay.” “If you truly were a gentleman, you would have put something on over your boxers. I’m fine, so you can go now.” 21

Secrets of the Dead She was a stunning beauty, even more so with no make-up and her hair disheveled. “It’s rather chilly in here, mind if I check the temperature?” “Yes. I like it chilly. Good night, Dowling.” She made a dramatic gesture with her hand indicating he should leave. He wished she would reconsider because he could feel the presence and he knew if he took a thermal reading it would show several degrees below the actual room temperature. Oh well, what could he do if she wouldn’t allow him? “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he said in closing, a slight smirk on his lips. “Jerk,” she called out through the closed door. He knew it was mean, but he just couldn’t resist. Yanking her door open, he yelled, “Boo.” She jumped, the blanket flying out of her hands. The look she gave him only added to his amusement. “Jesus, Dowling. That’s not funny.” He shrugged arrogantly. “Was for me.” “Get out.” Grabbing a pillow, she tossed it at the door, just as he closed it. He really shouldn’t have scared her. Laughing, he closed his door and went to bed. ~ Morning came with all the glorious benefits of summer. The sun was shining, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it looked to be yet another balmy day. Whistling a ditty, C.J. beat half a dozen eggs in a bowl while watching the tapes from the night before on his mini TV/VCR combo. He’d had an interesting night with dreams of fire, terror, and death, and when he’d awoken, he’d felt as if he had actually been in the dream. It wasn’t often that he had those sorts of dreams, but when he did, they were usually jumbled and hard for him to decipher. He’d written it down in his own journal and decided to try and figure it out later. Despite the odd night he’d had, he felt rather upbeat. 22

Shiela Stewart Jessica, on the other hand, did not. The instant she entered the room, he could tell she wasn’t in a chipper mood. Without so much as a glance his way, she marched to the coffee pot, grabbing a mug from the coffee tree and helped herself to the rich dark brew. “Oh yeah, that hits the spot.” “Rough night, Jessica?” he said without turning to face her. “Apparently you slept well. Lucky me, I got the room with the bugs.” C.J. noticed that she had showered, but had refrained from applying any make-up. Her eyes were oval and large and even without mascara to enhance them, her lashes were full and dark. She looked incredibly young without the make-up and even more alluring. “You found them?” “No, the little bastards were cunning. Even after I changed the bedding, they still pestered me all night.” “Then what makes you think they were bugs?” He poured the eggs into the hot skillet, the contents sizzling as they met the hot iron. “What else could it have been?” Taking a chair, she sat with her cup, yawning into her cup. Grabbing a spoon, he began to stir the eggs, commenting lightly. “An entity.” He ignored her snort in response and continued. “My readings overnight were quite interesting. There was a spike on the EMF and the temperature dropped several degrees just outside your room. And, I picked up a faint sound on the recorder as well.” It hadn’t been loud, but he could have sworn it had picked up the words, stop it. “Did it ever occur to you that this place has power surges and that’s what spiking your EMF? And the drop in temperature is probably due to the air-conditioner kicking in?” Setting the spoon on the cute ducky placemat on the stove, he put two slices of toast in the toaster while replying calmly, “This place doesn’t have central air and 23

Secrets of the Dead has never reported any power surges according to the power company.” “You checked? And what do you mean there is no central air? I felt it last night.” He turned to her, a faint smile on his lips. “I know, but it wasn’t from the air-conditioning.” She rolled her eyes. “Then what else could it have been?” “An entity.” She snorted again; he simply stirred the eggs. “Humor me, Jessica. Think outside your box. If it wasn’t bugs that were crawling over your skin, what else might it have felt like?” Setting her coffee cup down, she let out a long breath. “Okay, if it wasn’t bugs…let me think.” She tapped the table as she thought. “I don’t know, bugs keep coming to mind.” “Close your eyes.” “Why?” She eyed him suspiciously. “Just trust me for one moment.” He waited, then with a roll of her pretty green eyes, she finally closed them. Lifting his hand, being as gentle as possible, he slid a finger along her bare shoulder. She had incredibly smooth skin and he almost regretted having touched it. He’d kissed her and now he knew what her skin felt like. He wanted more. “Close?” Her brow furrowed. “Maybe.” “A close maybe?” “Yeah, I guess. What’s your point, Dowling?” “Since you didn’t do any research on this house before coming here, I’ll fill you in.” He went back to his eggs and toast. “It was built by a local doctor back in 1905. At the time he and his wife had one child, a female, two years old. His wife must have been pregnant at the time because another female was born shortly after they moved in. They had another daughter two years later, then finally a son two years after that.” 24

Shiela Stewart “Busy beavers.” She chuckled as she lifted her coffee cup. “Indeed he was. There were a few newspaper clippings reporting his outstanding medical work, as well as a few rumors of… infidelity.” He scooped eggs into two plates, laying a piece of toast beside the eggs. “A fascinating story.” She rolled her eyes, then sighed when he set the eggs before her. “Several reports from previous women who have lived here have stated feeling someone, or something, touching them at night.” “Uh huh.” She forked up the eggs, sliding it into her mouth. “Or maybe it was bugs.” That caught her attention, as he had intended. “Sound familiar?” She swallowed what was in her mouth before responding. “Are you implying some perverted ghost was in my room last night, touching me?” “You tell me.” Snorting again, she picked at her eggs. “They were bugs, plain and simple. Entities,” she snorted again, then continued eating. “My equipment read something last night at about ten o’clock, right around the time I entered your room.” “So.” “The temperature drop, the spike, the faint mumbling sounds my recorder picked up as well as distortion on my cameras all lead to the fact that there was a spirit active in the house last night.” “Believe what you like, Dowling, but I was not touched by a ghost. Do ghosts bite, or pinch? I highly doubt it.” “Some have been known to inflict a great deal of pain on a person. Did it leave a mark?” Her eyes darted to her left breast. “No.” “It bit your breast.” 25

Secrets of the Dead “No,” she said quickly, her eyes flicking to his. “No, it was more like a pinch.” She laughed it off. He smirked. “Hmmm, it roams your body, yet the only place it chooses to nibble on—or pinch—is your breast. Interesting.” “You’re making it sound perverted and it wasn’t. Thanks for the grub.” She pushed from the table, taking her cup with her. Smiling, C.J. leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He had to give the spook credit, he knew a fine woman when he saw one.

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Chapter 5 The saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but it didn’t say anything about a human. So Jessie set out to check the lower part of the house. She imagined owning a house someday, possibly this size, or bigger. She would have children, and of course a husband, and they would be endlessly happy. And fairy tales really did come true. Berating herself for living in a dream, she examined the collection of books in the shelves on the lower level. They were children’s books, in a wide range of titles and ages. She’d had books similar to these in her youth and had been found often enough curled up in bed reading the day away as a teen. She loved to read, to escape in the story and dream the day away with a good romance. Unfortunately, happily ever after were only in fairytales and romance novels. But it didn’t hurt to dream. Her last relationship had ended in a bang, with her calling the cops on the belligerent bastard after he had smacked her in the face during an argument. The relationship before that had been as fulfilling as a walk through a dark forest, void of trees. She just didn’t have luck when it came to men. And without a man, there were no children, unless she had in vitro, but that was only an option if she hadn't met Mr. Right by the time she was nearing her late thirties. She still had ten years before that was an option. She mused over the cute Barbie dolls dressed in the modern fashions, and all the amenities that came with Barbie these days. In her day, the damn doll didn’t even have bendable arms and legs. Now, not only was she able to bend, but she had a career as well as a family and a wardrobe even the richest female often ogled over. The toys for the boy were just as impressive. It seemed this little man enjoyed playing with trucks, cars and 27

Secrets of the Dead airplanes, and there were plenty to go around. It was obvious the lower level was designed for the children. Turning the door knob that led to the lowest level, the cellar, Jessie hesitated briefly. Cellars were known for creepy crawling insects and bugs. Did she dare go down further simply to satisfy her curious need to investigate every corner of the house? Looking down at her sneakers, she decided it would be okay, as long as she kept a close eye on the floor for any creepy little bugs that might be lurking about. Clicking the light on, she took the wooden steps down, the scent of mustiness filling the air. One washing machine and one dryer sat off to the back of the cellar. Aside from that, there were boxes, old furniture and useless items that should have been tossed long ago. Why did people have a need to collect junk? Again, curiosity got the best of her. She bent down to peek into one of the boxes. The lights went out. She screamed. Standing up, she realized she had no idea where the stairs were. There wasn’t a window in the room to let in any of the sunlight scorching the outside with its heated rays. Calming herself, she turned to find her way towards where she hoped the stairs were. Jumping at the sound of the creaking stairs, she nearly bit her tongue. “Dowling?” An ice cold hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, letting out an ear splitting scream. Turning, she made a dash for what she hoped was the stairs and hit a brick wall of a chest. She stumbled back with the force, then felt the hands grab hold of her arms to steady her. “Let me go,” she demanded. “Fine. I was just trying to help.” C.J. clicked his lighter on, illuminating mostly his face. “Power’s out.” “You think?” she snarled at him, her thundering heart finally calming. “Why do you enjoy scaring me?” 28

Shiela Stewart He shrugged; a sly grin on his face. “It gives me a thrill, what can I say.” “Well I wish you would stop it. And why the hell are your hands so cold?” She shivered remembering the iciness she had felt on her shoulder. “They’re not cold, feel.” He laid his palm on her shoulder, then let out a yelp when the flame singed his other hand. “Damn it, that smarts.” “Very funny, Dowling. Get it back on.” “It’s too hot, give it a moment.” “Oh, grow up. Give it here.” She reached out for where she thought his hand was and knocked the lighter to the floor. “Way to go.” “Oh, shut up and help me find it.” She knelt down, pausing at the thought of tiny little bugs possibly scurrying on the floor. “Man, you have some attitude.” Lowering down, their heads bumped together. “Watch it.” “Sorry, a little blind here. So, tell me, what made you scream after the lights went out?” “You know perfectly well why I screamed.” “Enlighten me, Jessica.” Terrified that some slimy insect was going to touch her hands, she moved them carefully as she searched for the lighter. “You snuck down the stairs just as the power blinked off and grabbed my shoulder.” “I did, huh? Got it.” She was never more grateful for light than she was when he clicked the lighter on. Even if it made his face look ghoulish. “You know perfectly well you did.” “I will admit I was coming down the stairs to see what you were up to, just as the power cut out, but I didn’t touch you until we rammed into each other.” Her body warmed being this close to C.J. She remembered their brief kiss the day before and her body 29

Secrets of the Dead reacted in the most normal of ways. She was definitely feeling arousal. She jumped up, then took a step back, telling her body to calm down. “Nice try, Dowling, but I’m not that stupid.” “If you say so, Jessica.” “Stop calling me that.” The lighter clicked off and her body tensed. “Get it back on.” “It gets pretty hot you know, but thank you for caring.” She jumped when he grabbed her arm. “Relax; I’m just leading you to the stairs. Did the hand that touched you feel anything like the one I’m holding you with now?’ She felt him step up and figured they were at the stairs. “No.” “Warmer, colder?” “Colder. And no, it wasn’t a ghost. Jesus, Dowling, get over it already.” She saw the light from the window on the next level and breathed a sigh of relief. At least there wouldn’t be any bugs here to spook her. “Why are you stubborn?” “I’m not stubborn, I’m a realist.” “A realist that believes in a God she can’t see.” He took the rest of the stairs to the upper level. “You know, for someone who says they were raised to believe in God, you sure sound like an atheist.” She followed after him. “I do believe in God, but I also believe in life after death.” “Then how can you say that God didn’t create life as we know it?” He turned to her, tilting his head to the side. “I never said that.” “You did so, yesterday, in the living room when you were preaching to me about Jesus walking on water and blah blah…” “I was just having a conversation with you, trying to see where you stood.” 30

Shiela Stewart She wanted to scream. “See, this is why I avoid talking to you. I never understand what the hell you’re saying and then when I think I do, you turn it all around on me.” “Do I now?” “Yes, yes you do,” she fumed. “And here I thought were just having a rational adult conversation. I’m sorry if I speak above you, Jessica, I’ll try to dull it down for you.” With a muffled growl, she glared at him. “That’s not what I said, and you’re doing it again. I’m not the one with the problem, you are.” “I never said you had a problem,” he countered smoothly, lifting a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it up without his eyes ever leaving hers. “Yes, you did, you said you had to dull—oh god, I’m stepping right into your web again, damn it.” Throwing her hands in the air, she marched up the stairs. He was infuriating. ~ Still vibrating from her conversation with C.J., Jessica searched her bag for her cell phone. The guy was driving her to the brink of insanity. Playing jokes and pranks on her, making her think there were spirits here, then turning everything she said around to make her look like a fool. Growling, finally finding her cell phone, she pulled it out and turned it on. Glancing down she saw undetectable signal and fumed. “How the hell can you not find a signal?” Standing up, she moved to the window, but still it wasn’t connecting. “Stupid phone.” Tossing it on her bed, she dropped down then flopped back. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to calm down. ~ With the power still out, C.J. looked over his meters and gadgets, checking the thermometers for any changes. He was damn glad he brought a large supply of batteries. 31

Secrets of the Dead If the power stayed off for long, at least he would still have his equipment. A boom of thunder rattled the windows, and glancing up, C.J. saw the rain as it began to fall. It was about time they got some rain. This heat wave was driving everyone nuts. He’d had that familiar tingle when he’d stepped into the cellar, a tingle that told him there was a spirit present. If Jessica didn’t want to believe it, that was her choice, but he knew what he felt, and he’d felt a presence. Who it was, he couldn’t be sure, but he could speculate. Darius Smithers. There had been no other traumatic events in the house, other than the fire in nineteen thirteen, so it stood to reason if there was an entity, or entities, it had to be the Smithers family. And it stood to reason that if they were still around, there was something keeping them here. What he needed was to search the archives again and get more information. Booting up his laptop, grateful for the battery, he frowned when he couldn’t access the internet. The rumble of thunder clued him in that possibly there was too much distortion in the air for the laptop to access an outside line. In the distance, his EMF detected the electricity from the lightning. Years of experience, and his own senses, taught him how to differentiate between an average energy spike causing his meter to react and that of a spirit. Leaning back, slipping a cigarette from his pocket, he sat patiently, waiting for the storm to take its course. When Jessica stepped into the room, he acknowledged her with a tip of his head. “About time we got some rain.” Moving to the fridge, she grabbed the half empty bottle of pop, and poured herself a glass. “What are you working on?” “Nothing at the moment. The storm seems to be messing up my internet connection.” So she was speaking to him. 32

Shiela Stewart “Yeah, my cell isn’t working either. But the rain is nice.” She moved to the window, opening it to allow the cool rainy air to enter the house. “Smells good.” “I love the smell of rain.” Tapping out his cigarette, he moved in beside her to watch the rain as it fell on the ground. “There’s something incredibly stimulating about a good storm.” “You can almost feel the energy of it vibrate inside your body.” “Yeah, I feel the same way.” Their eyes met, held for a moment until his flicked to her mouth. “Nothing like a good storm to get the juices flowing.” Lifting his hand, he tucked the stray hair from her face behind her ear. “I better…I have…” She turned abruptly and fled the room. Lowering his hand, sighing deeply, he continued to watch the lightning split the sky and the rain douse the dry ground.

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Chapter 6 Given the fact that he had missed lunch, busy with his research and monitoring devices, C.J. decided to make a big meal for dinner. Though the storm had passed, the power had yet to return, so he lit some candles and had been relieved to find a kick ass BBQ just out the back door on the deck. Gabbing two steaks from the freezer, which was still cold enough that it would hold the meat for several hours still, if the power didn’t return, he set them on the BBQ. While they broiled, he made a salad, judging that this would be the last of the vegetables for them as some of them were beginning to turn. The potatoes still seemed fine, so he wrapped them in foil and set them on the grill. It didn’t take long for Jessica to resurface. “Dinner should be ready in, say, two minutes. I found some wine. It’s not cold but it’s still good, if you’d like a glass.” She did, and poured a full glass. “Storm didn’t last long.” “No, but it managed to cool things down.” He flipped the steaks. “How do you like it?” “What?” Her eyes flickered to his lips. “Steak, how do you like it?” He’d seen where her eyes had wandered. He wondered why, if she was feeling something for him, did she always step away whenever they were close. “Oh, oh…” she stammered. “Well done.” Smirking, C.J. decided to play with her. “I’m still feeling keyed up from the storm. I really need some sort of a release.” He turned to her, giving her a sultry look. “Care to join me?” “What? No, my god, C.J., how dare you ask such a thing.” Rattled by his come on, she gulped down more wine, then refilled her nearly empty glass.

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Shiela Stewart He so loved getting her riled. “I meant a swim, Jessica.” He nudged his head towards the backyard pool, smirking. Her eyes narrowed in on him. “No, thank you.” “Your loss. Dinner’s ready.” Grabbing the plates beside him, he dished out the steaks and potatoes, then set them on the patio table. “Bon appetit.” “Mmm, this looks delicious.” “Thank you.” He cut into his steak, the juices seeping out. Lifting the slice to his lips, he watched as she ate. She had a sexy Cupid’s bow sort of mouth, with dimples at the sides that sunk in more when she ate, or smiled, which he rarely saw. “What do you enjoy doing, Jessica, for a past time?” “I like to run, mostly late in the evening. I enjoy tennis, and I love to curl up with a good book.” “What sort of book?” “Anything really, I just love to read.” “Are you into thrillers?” Her eyes lifted to his. “I have to be in the mood for it, but yeah, I like a good scare.” His lips curved in a sly smile. “Then why is it you get angry with me when I scare you?” “Because you’re being a jerk.” He smiled slyly. “Scaring a person gets the adrenaline pumping; it’s good for the heart.” “My heart is just fine. What did you use to marinate the steak?” “Lemon juice and salt. Do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s moist and has a slight tang to it.” “You like tangy food?” “I’m not stepping into your trap, Dowling.” She polished off the potato and nearly half of her steak. “What trap?” he asked innocently. “The one you always set for me in hopes of catching me off guard. What do the initials stand for, Dowling?” She shifted it to focus on him. 35

Secrets of the Dead “You tell me.” Finishing off his plate, shoving it aside, he lifted his glass of wine, enjoying the conversation. “Uh uh, we’ve already played that game. What do they stand for?” “Tell you what, I’ll give you the second letters to both my first and second name, and if you guess them correctly, I’ll do dishes. If you don’t guess them, you do the dishes.” “Deal.” “A.” “For both first and second,” she reminded him. “Both my first and second names have A as the second letter.” He leaned back and lit a cigarette. He was going to enjoy watching her do the dishes. “How many guesses do I get?” “Two.” He blew smoke into the still muggy night air. “Two. Okay.” She tapped the table with her fingers. “Cameron, Jack.” “Nope on both. Last one. She frowned, trying harder. “Calvin…James.” “Wrong on the first, Calvin.” He shook his head as he stood. “Enjoy doing the dishes, remember, power’s out so the dishwasher is non-functional.” “Wait, you said wrong on the first, what about the second?” He took the steps down from the deck, smiling. “It’s James.” “Give me one more shot,” she called out as he moved through the grass towards the pool. She frowned when he shook his head. “Come on.” “Have fun, Jessica.” Slipping his shirt over his head, he tossed it over a lounger, then kicked off his shoes. Annoyed and frustrated, she stood to clear the table. As she scooped up their plates, she saw him shimmy out of his jeans. Intrigued, she continued to watch, then gasped when he pulled his boxer shorts down and tossed them with the rest of his clothes. She turned her head away, 36

Shiela Stewart embarrassed, then slowly, turned back, peeking, as he jumped into the water. Fanning her face with her hand, she headed inside to start the dishes. The guy had a pretty damn good physique, and his ass wasn’t so bad either. Filling the sink with hot water, she watched as he swam laps in the pool. She was mesmerized by his movements, turned on knowing he was completely naked under that crystal clear water. Swallowing her lust, she continued cleaning the dishes. She shook her head clear several minutes later when she heard her name called. “Jessica, want to bring me out a towel?” Drying her hands, she headed for the closet to retrieve a towel. Should have thought of that before you dove, naked, into the pool, she mumbled as she headed towards the pool. “Here.” She held the towel out, trying not to look at him. The way the sun was setting, it fell on the pool, making it almost like glass. She could see his nudity—however distorted by the waves of water. “You should take a dip, it’s incredible.” “I’ll pass, thank you.” “Your loss.” Reaching up for the towel, he grabbed her hand and yanked her right into the water. She gasped, came up furious, wiping the damp hair from her face, glaring at him. “You bastard.” The towel she had brought him floated off in the water. “You looked rather warm, thought you needed to cool down.” “Yeah fine, but not with my clothes on.” She backed away from him, not trusting him one bit. “Feel free to remove them.” “I think not.” Because she knew he would try something, she hoisted herself out of the pool, shaking the water from her body and damp clothes as she walked towards the house. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Jessica.” 37

Secrets of the Dead With a very undignified gesture, she lifted her right hand and saluted him one finger style as she walked to the house.

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Chapter 7 Chilled, Jessie began to disrobe from her damp clothing the instant she closed herself off in the washroom. The nerve of him, pulling such a stunt. Tossing her soggy clothes onto the vanity, she slipped into the shower. He was so immature, pulling her into the water just to get a thrill. He really had a warped mind if such things amused him. Grabbing the towel hanging on the rack, she began to dry herself off. She’d even been kind enough to bring him a damn towel. As if she would strip down to nothing and swim in the pool with him. There were neighbors on either side of the house. She had no intentions of giving them a peep show. The guy was so full of himself. She closed her eyes, remembering his body as he had stripped down to nothing. His skin had been bronze, the evening setting sun making it glow. There were muscles there, not bulging rippling muscles, but enough to show he took care of his body. And his ass had been firm, round and just as tanned as the rest of him. Running the towel over her body, feeling heated up, thinking of C.J. naked, she let her imagination get the best of her. His hand slipped around her body to cup her aching breasts. He teased them, making them throb even more. She tilted her head back, allowing him easier access to stimulate her. While one hand continued to massage her breast, the other slid over her belly, making it quiver. But it was when it dipped lower that her eyes opened. Jerking away, she spun around, nearly losing her balance, and she could have sworn she saw someone standing behind her. A man, with graying hair, a mustache that curled at the ends, a wicked grin on his face. Shaken, she backed up, bumping into the door; and screamed. ~ 39

Secrets of the Dead He’d really enjoyed his quick dip in the pool, and even more so he’d enjoyed catching a glimpse of a very wet Jessica. Sure, it had been dirty to yank her into the pool, but hell, he was a man, after all, and what good was a man if he didn’t play dirty once and a while? Besides, she looked like she needed to cool down. The added bonus of seeing her chilled nipples beneath her tank top was well worth the anger he was sure she was feeling towards him. Sides, how mad could she be with him? Hearing her screams, C.J. took the stairs by twos, his hair dripping in his face. Rushing towards the sound, he grabbed the door knob and found it locked. “Jessica? Jess, what’s wrong?” When she didn’t answer, his worry grew. “Jessica, answer me. Are you okay?” “Yes.” “What happened? Why did you scream?” “It was…the water, it got really cold fast,” Looking over at his instruments, C.J. doubted very much that it was only the cold water. Leaving her with her lie, he grabbed a towel and headed to his own shower. ~ It didn’t seem to matter what she did, she couldn’t get the chill from her bones. If C.J.’s childish trick had caused her to catch a cold, she was going to make damn sure he paid for it. Curling up in the blankets, Jessie’s teeth chattered. She couldn’t understand why she was so cold. Sure, the pool had been cool, but it was plenty warm in the house. Yet she still felt the chill. Curled in a ball, cocooned in the blankets, the night shirt she wore not at all warm enough, she tried to fall asleep. First thing in the morning she was going to pack her bag and get the hell out of here. The hours couldn’t pass fast enough for her. Drifting off, she began to dream. He came to her with open arms and as he pulled her against him, she felt the heat. He wanted her; she could feel it as he kissed her so tenderly on the lips. And as his 40

Shiela Stewart hands slid over her back, she felt tiny shivers tickle her skin. ~ Dozing on the sofa, C.J. woke to the sounds of his equipment chiming an alert. Shaking the dregs of sleep away, he pulled himself up to check them out. He felt it before he even glanced at the reading, and turned. There she stood, looking as alive as he did, but he knew better. Since his last encounter, he had done some more digging into his research and he was sure he had a name to go with the face now. “Andrea?” Her tiny face was solemn as she nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is C.J.” When she didn’t respond, he proceeded. “Why are you still here, Andrea? What's keeping you here?” Lifting her arm, her hand held out, she pointed directly at C.J. “I’m keeping you here?” When she nodded, he pursed his lips. “How am I keeping you here?” Pulling her hand back, she placed it over her heart. “I don’t understand.” How could he be the one keeping her here when he had only just learned about her? Once again she pointed to him, then placed her hand over her heart. “You’ve lost me I’m afraid. Can’t you talk to me, tell me what you mean?” Shaking her head no, her fall of sandy hair sliding over tiny shoulders, she opened her mouth, pointed to her tongue, then made a slashing gesture. “Was your tongue cut out?” She nodded and he felt a sickening sensation fill his gut. “How horrible for you. Okay, we need to figure this out. We need to find some way for us to communicate.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Are you the only entity here?” Once again she shook her head. “How many others?” She held up her hand, lifting her index finger. 41

Secrets of the Dead “Only one other. Is it your father?” She nodded, verifying what he had thought all along. “He’s the one making contact with Jessica isn’t he?” She nodded. “She doesn’t believe.” Again Andrea nodded. “Okay, we have to figure out how to communicate. What?” he asked quickly when her head flew to the stairs. Before he could respond again, she vanished. “Damn it.” Pursing his lips, C.J. went to his camera to check if she had shown up this time. How the hell was he supposed to communicate with a mute ghost? ~ In her sleep, Jessie shivered, wrapping the blankets tighter around her chilled body. She tossed and turned, fretful in her sleep. She dreamt of C.J., his hands caressing her, stirring needs buried deep inside. She wanted as she had never wanted before and was willing to give everything. When his fingers skimmed over her face, she looked up and saw the mutilated flesh before her. Gasping, Jessie sat straight up in bed, panting heavily. It took several moments for her to realize where she was. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and tried to reason with her mind. She had been dreaming of C.J., making love to him, but it hadn’t been C.J. who she had seen. She shuddered, remembering the face. It had been decayed and smelled rotten. His eyes had been brown, glazed over and milky; his hair looked singed and matted. His smile had been wicked and snarled. Feeling sick, she slid from the covers and rushed to the washroom. Expelling what was in her stomach, she drank down some water, then walked back to her room. Climbing under the covers she realized she wasn’t as chilled as she had been earlier. Kicking the blankets free, she tried her best to fall back asleep. It took her over an hour before she drifted off 42

Shiela Stewart again. And while she slept, he crept in beside her and placed his head on her chest. As she slept, the spirit smiled.

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Chapter 8 Yawning, C.J. poured himself a cup of coffee, grateful for the power that had come back on some time during the night. He wasn’t sure when it had happened as he’d been awake well past four in the morning. Deciding to take his coffee to the living room to watch over some of the night’s tapes, he sat on the sofa, looking a little worse for wear. When he heard her footsteps on the stairs, he lifted his head to watch her descend. Wow, he thought, she looked like hell. “Rough night?” “The worst. I can’t wait to get home and sleep in my own bed.” Setting her bag by the door, she rolled her neck. “It’s been a slice, Dowling, but I’m out of here.” “So soon? I made coffee.” He stood, maybe too eagerly, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “Scared to be here alone, Dowling?” “Hardly. I just thought we would have some coffee before you left.” “I plan on grabbing a cup of Java from Timmie’s on my way home. When did the power come back on?” “Some time after four, that’s when I dozed off.” Moving in closer to her, he could see the bags under her eyes. “You really didn’t sleep well, did you?” “I’ll do better in my own bed. Have fun…finding your ghosts.” She snickered as she reached out for the door. Turning the knob, she gave it a good yank and nearly slammed her nose into the door when it didn’t budge. “What the hell?” “It’s locked.” He smiled lightly as he reached out to release the dead bolt. “Right. Lack of sleep.” She excused and tried again. Once again the door didn’t budge. “What the hell did you do to it?” “I didn’t do anything to it. Let me try.” 44

Shiela Stewart “Of course, because a man can do it so much better than a woman.” She snorted and stepped to the side to let him try. Giving the door a good hard yank, he frowned as he glared at it. “Hmmm.” “The rain must have toyed with it. I’ll use the back door.” Grabbing her bag she headed through the house to the back exit, C.J. right behind her. “What the hell?” Yanking on the door, she grunted when it refused to give. “This is insane.” “I’ll try the patio doors.” They were glass, less likely the humidity had affected them. He soon came to realize that they too, wouldn’t budge. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events.” Amused by it, he turned to his machines to check for any telekinetic activity that might have registered. Glaring at the door, Jessie’s mind began to work. “What time did you say you fell asleep?” “Around four.” There was significant activity between six and just half an hour before Jessica had come down the stairs. Why hadn't he felt anything while he’d been preparing coffee? Her eyes narrowed as her mind clicked. “You did it. What the hell did you do to the doors, Dowling?” “Nothing. God, look at this reading. It’s incredible.” Whoever had been here had been extremely active. “Bull, you did something. Maybe glue them shut?” He lifted his head, looking at her with astonishment “You think I glued all the doors shut?” “Wouldn’t put it past you. You’ll try anything to get a person to believe in ghosts. This is rich, Dowling.” Standing up, straightening his back, he looked her square in the eyes. “And how the hell do you think I accomplished that grandiose feat?” “I don’t know, maybe…maybe you went outside during the night and nailed boards across the doors.” 45

Secrets of the Dead “The doors open inward, Jessica,” he said simply. She was stretching it just to believe in something that was impossible rather than accept what was plausible. Her eyes narrowed as she snarled. “Okay, fine. You put Crazy Glue in the locks so they wouldn’t turn?” “Right, because I always carry with me a healthy supply of Crazy Glue.” He rolled his eyes, then went back to his read-outs. “Fine, then you explain it.” He was more than happy to. “During the time after I fell asleep and right before the moment you came down the stairs, there was a strong source of energy in the house. I believe that someone was busy last night, making sure we didn’t leave in the morning.” “That someone being you,” she retorted snidely. “No,” he replied calmly. “That being the spirits that inhabit the place.” She chortled, resting her hip against the wall. “The spirits locked us in here? That is rich, Dowling, even for you.” “Okay, miss smart ass, you explain it then!” Grabbing a mug, he poured her a cup of coffee, then pulled out a cigarette, sat at the table and waited to hear her rendition. “It’s been extremely hot and humid for the past week; the heat caused the wood framing of the place to expand and then when it rained yesterday, it made it stick.” His brow lifted and the corner of his mouth rose in a smirk. “Are you serious?” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he burst into laughter. “And you call me rich. That, my dear Jessica, was stretching it beyond far.” Flicking ashes into the ashtray, he continued to snicker. “It could happen,” she snarled her response. Still snickering, he put his cigarette out, then lifted to his feet. “Since you’re not leaving, care for some breakfast?” “Whatever, but I intend to keep trying to get out.” 46

Shiela Stewart “What's the rush?” Pulling out the carton of eggs, C.J. began making French toast. “I’m supposed to be going on vacation next week.” She drummed her fingers on the table while C.J. cooked calmly. “Where to?” he whipped the eggs while he spoke. “New York.” He turned, angling his head over his shoulder. “Why the hell would you want to vacation in New York?” “I have an interview with a magazine company.” He turned his entire body now, his face lighting up. “No kidding, well, that’s great.” “Yeah, I’m hoping. But first I need to get the hell out of here.” Pushing from her chair, she tried the sliding doors again, then giving up she moved to the back door. She pounded on it, kicked it, yanked on it, then ended up swearing a blue streak at it. “That is some mouth, darling. Here, sit; eat something before you exhaust yourself.” He set the plate down then walked to her when she didn’t move. “Jessica.” She jerked her arm away, annoyed. “It’s fucking Jessie, okay?” “Fine, whoa, chill out, sweetheart.” Keeping his hands raised, he waited for her to pass before moving to his own chair. He gave her a moment to calm down, watching as she stabbed away at her toast. Refreshing their coffee, he finally spoke up. “Why does Jessica bug you so much?” “It just does.” “There has to be a reason why. It’s a pretty name, it suits you.” He lifted his cup of coffee and waited for her response. “Yeah, pretty.” She snorted, then lifted a forkful of syrupy toast to her mouth. Eyes narrowed, C.J. gave that reaction some serious thought. She rarely wore dresses. He had seen her in a skirt on occasion, a very businesslike skirt with a jacket to match. She wore make-up, but nothing extravagant. He 47

Secrets of the Dead didn’t think he had ever seen her with lipstick on. Her hair was cut short, coming in just under her ears in a bob, and was highlighted with blonde streaks. She certainly didn’t act very feminine. Bingo. “Jessie is a very uni-sex sort of name. It can go either way, for a male, or for a female. Whereas Jessica is very feminine. Why don’t you want to portray your feminine side, Jessica?” “I portray my feminine side, Dowling, what an asinine comment.” “Oh, you look female, no doubt about that, especially in your skimpy underclothes.” He gave her a sultry sort of look, to which she angled her head at him and gave him a snide glare. “But you don’t try to emphasize it. Makes me wonder why.” “Why do you use your initials?” she retorted. “Cameron James?” He smiled, pushed his empty plate aside. “Not Cameron. I don’t care for the man I was named after, that’s all.” “Why? Was he a crook?” “No.” “You said you were named after your grandfather. Why don’t you like him?” “Let’s just say we don’t agree and leave it at that.” Standing, he took their empty dishes to the dishwasher. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you why I dislike Jessica if you tell me what your first name really is.” He gave it some serious thought before replying. “Why’s it such a big deal for you to know my name?” “Why’s it such a big deal for you to know why I go by Jessie?” Touché. “Fine, I’ll play. Carlton.” “Carlton? What's wrong with Carlton?” “As I said, it belongs to my grandfather. Your turn.” 48

Shiela Stewart “Oh!” She suddenly gasped. “Carlton Books. Holy shit, Dowling, Carlton Books is huge, world wide, and you’re an heir to that?” She whistled low. He simply shrugged. He didn’t like being associated with anything to do with his grandfather, including his money. “Why don’t you get along?” He didn’t care for this game any longer. “That wasn’t part of the agreement. Your turn.” She frowned, giving in. “It’s too feminine, like you said. It’s hard to be a respected reporter with a feminine name.” “There are plenty of female journalists.” Taking the damp cloth, he wiped the table down, then the counter. “Sure, but none of the deep or hard nosed jobs go to females. How many women do you see in the Middle East? Were there any reporting in Vietnam during the war? I can’t think of any.” “So you think using the more male version of your name will get you those hard nosed stories?” “It got me the interview in New York.” His eyes met hers with surprise. “They think you’re a male?” “They did, when they first called me for an interview.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he set the cloth in the sink. “Time has progressed; it’s not as sexist as it used to be.” “Yeah, more women are working, but still, men get the harder jobs because they don’t think women can deal with the pressure. You want pressure, how about having kids, dealing with illnesses, tantrums, bills and everything else that goes with raising a family. Women stand up to that sort of pressure all the time, yet we’re still considered weak. Hell, we spend hours in agony just to bring a new life into the world, and we’re considered frail.” “True, but lying to get somewhere in life isn’t the answer. You’re better than that, Jessica.” 49

Secrets of the Dead “I didn’t ask for your two cents worth, Dowling.” Pushing from the table, annoyed, Jessica left the room. He wasn’t too sure if he agreed with her logic, but who was he to tell her otherwise. Leaving the kitchen sparkling clean, he went to check the other cameras for activity.

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Chapter 9 Figuring C.J. had slunk off to his room, Jessie snuck downstairs, hoping to avoid him. She was glad when she didn’t bump into him. She certainly didn’t want to have another discussion with him on her name. She had spent the better part of the day in her room, sulking if you will, on the bed. She’d tried, when she’d first been out of college, applying for some of the bigger magazine companies, and even newspapers as well. It had taken her nearly a year before she had figured out it wasn’t something she was doing wrong that was preventing her from getting better jobs. It had been the fact that she was female. Then she’d heard about an opening at Hoax Busters, and she had applied. She’d thought she would be looking into businesses that were fraudulent, companies that played just shy of the illegitimate line. But instead she had been handed one fluff case after another. For five years now she’d been practically begging her editor to let her have something with more juice to it, yet still she was handed the fluff. Hence the reason she was here. To be honest, she had planned on staying one night, write her report and get it over with. She didn’t give a rat’s ass if it was haunted or not—not that she believed in such things. She was going to write the report on the house, saying that the owners claims of spiritual beings in the house was nothing more than a pathetic attempt to gain attention—what did it matter anyway? Then she’d planned to pack a bag and head to New York in hopes of a better life. And now here she was, stuck in the damn house and feeling like crap. Deciding to forgo the food, Jessie pulled out the bottle of scotch she’d found in one of the kitchen cupboards. Grabbing a glass, she headed to the living room. She was going to wallow, damn it, and get good and drunk. 51

Secrets of the Dead That was exactly what C.J. found an hour later as he entered the room. One look at Jessica told volumes; she was blitzed. The woman couldn’t even hold herself up, and she was leaning against the sofa, for pity sake. Wondering why she was on this drunk fest, he sat down across from her on the floor. “Hi.” “Howdy.” She saluted him—or at least she attempted to, but her body was just not coordinated enough and she slid to the side laughing. “How much have you had to drink?” “Only this much,” she slurred, holding up her index finger and thumb spaced less than a hairs width apart. He didn’t believe her for one second. “Was that bottle full when you started?” Lifting the half empty bottle, he frowned. “I broke the seal on that baby and christened this place with it.” She laughed to herself, nearly falling over. He caught her, righted her, shaking his head. “Okay, so tell me why you decided to get yourself slobbering drunk?” he removed the cap and took a sip, admiring the taste. “I’m stuck here with you.” She laughed, holding her gut as if it ached. His lips pursed, he took another sip. “And the real reason is…? Holding her empty glass out to him, she spoke barely audible. “Life sucks.’ “It’s not so bad.” “What do you know, you have it all. A rich grandfather, respect, money, fuck, you’re the tops.” She slurred, frowning at the small amount he had put in her glass. He didn’t have it all, yet. “And what do you have, Jessica?” “Jessie,” she slurred. “Fine, Jessie.” He took another sip. 52

Shiela Stewart “Nothing. I don’t even own that piece of crap car yet. I’m still making payments and it keeps breaking down on me.” She wobbled, righted herself. “You got a warrantee on it?” Placing the bottle to his lips, he managed to get in a good swallow before she yanked it out of his hands. “Not any more. You know, I swear they rigged the damn thing so it worked while it was on warrantee, then the second the warrantee is up—bam, everything breaks down and you’re left holding the bag.” He snuck the bottle from her hand while she was distracted by her anger and took a few big gulps. “You sound paranoid, Jessie.” “It’s a fact. I bought a VCR last year, had it all of six months before the damn thing conked out on me.” She snatched the bottle back, took a sip. “Did you buy an extended warrantee?” His mouth was beginning to feel numb and he knew the alcohol was the cause. He was getting drunk. She snorted, waving her hand in the air. “Like I’m made of money.” Taking the bottle from her, he noticed it was nearly empty. Deciding they’d both had enough, he finished it off. “If you buy cheap, you’re going to get cheap. Save up your money and buy something worthwhile and you won’t have to worry about it breaking down.” Whoa, the room was spinning. Good thing there was no more booze left. He turned his head to the sound of a bottle being opened. “Don’t lecture me, Dowling.” She tipped the bottle back and drank a fair amount down before her yanked it from her hands, spilling a great deal of it on her shirt. “Hey.” “Where did that come from?” his words slurring as he spoke. “The ghosts gave it to me.” She began to laugh with near hysterics. “Yeah, ha ha, funny, Jessica.” 53

Secrets of the Dead “Jessie,” she insisted, nearly falling over. “Jessie,” he corrected. “No more for you.” Setting the bottle aside, he pulled the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and attempted to light it up. It wasn’t easy, given the fact that he was seeing double of everything. “Hey, gimme one of those.” She reached out, falling on him. “Darling, you are sloshed.” He laughed as he held her up, her head wobbling. “Yep, I am.” She stole the cigarette from his lips, and placed it between hers. “Hey, look, I’m you.” She giggled, losing the cigarette; it dropped down onto his lap. “I’ll get it.” “Uh, I can manage thanks.” Then again, having her hands groping him might not be so bad. Ah, let her have some fun, he thought, enjoying the way she searched his lap. Good thing he hadn’t been able to light it. “I’ll get it,” she demanded, trying to hold herself up. “You’re too drunk.” “So are you.” She poked his chest with the cigarette she’d finally managed to grab, her head wobbling. He snatched the cigarette from her. “Not as drunk as you, darling.” But damn close. She snorted, grabbing the cigarette back from him. “I got your cigarette,” she teased, leaning back, waving it in his face. Shaking his head, he lunged for it, toppling her over, falling on top of her. Laughing, she stretched her arm out, trying to prevent him from grabbing the cigarette. “You want it, come and get it.” “Oh, I want it alright, but not the cigarette.” “Yeah? You want me, huh?” “Hell yeah.” “Then what are you waiting for, Dowling?” Their eyes met and held. In unison, he grabbed her head, she grabbed his and they both dove into the kiss. 54

Shiela Stewart Tongues touched, teased, while teeth scraped. Panting with desire, they clung to one another, hands roaming over warm, aroused flesh, tearing at the clothing that restricted them. Rolling on the floor, legs tangling, they explored each other with wild fervor. Yanking her tank top away, C.J. shoved the bra aside then devoured the ripe pink nipples that called out to be pleasured. She arched as he suckled, her fingers digging into his hair. Awkwardly, he yanked at her shorts, fighting with the clasp. She wiggled beneath him as he slid the cloth down, exposing warm moist flesh. He needed her in the worst way and he needed her now. Tearing at his shirt, pulling it over his head, she sunk her short nails into his damp flesh, nearly sending him over the edge. Raw desire pulling at him, he climbed on top, and plunged. She gasped and he paused, his eyes meeting hers, worried that he’d gone to fast. But when she yanked him down, taking his bottom lip between her teeth, spreading for him, he knew she wanted it as much as he did. Their body’s pumped, thrust, wiggled and rolled as they let desire have its way. All around them, chaos ensued as the spirit let loose.

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Chapter 10 Something was tickling her nose. Using her hand, she tried to swipe it away and felt the brush of hair against her knuckles. Planting her hand, she felt the warm flesh beneath her palm. Recognition hit and woke her with an angry slap. Eyes shooting open, she sat up quickly and instantly regretted it when the room spun wildly around her. Laying back down, closing her eyes, she waited out the dizziness the hangover had caused. Her mind raced to the night before. The pounding rhythm in her head reminded her of what she had drunk. The soft ache in her loins reminded her of what she had done. Carefully opening her eyes, she turned her head to see a naked C.J. beside her. “Oh, God.” Her eyes wandered and she drank in the beauty of the man beside her. Dear God, she’d had sex with him. She hadn’t been that drunk that she couldn’t remember the event, and Lord, what an event it had been. They had literally torn each others clothing off. She’d been an animal, which was so not like her. What did they do now? Would they go on as they had been, sniping at each other, treat this as a one night fling and move on? She felt more than a little awkward. In truth, the guy irritated the hell out of her, yet he’d made her feel so incredible the night before. How was she supposed to respond to him now, after sharing something so intimate? “Dowling.” She spoke quietly. “Dowling.” She called out louder, careful of her pounding head. When all he did was moan, she slapped his chest. “Dowling!” “Jesus,” he swore, his eyes opening, his hand coming up to the burn she had left on his bare skin. “Wake up.” “I’m awake. Ouch.” He turned his head to her, the frown on his lips turning to a smile. “Morning.” Then his eyes went wide. “Holy hell.” He bolted upright and jumped to his feet. “Oh, my God.” 56

Shiela Stewart “What?” Had that been a smile on his lips? Carefully she sat up, minding the spinning room, and turned in the direction he was looking. “What the hell?” Before them, the room was a complete mess. The sofa stood on its end, both chairs slammed up right against it, all pushed against the window. The coffee and end tables stood one on top of the other, in front of the fireplace. Carefully, Jessie stood up, waiting out the dizziness and had a better look. She had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. “How…” “I need to check my equipment.” He flew off, still nude and not realizing it, and she had the pleasure of watching his ass muscles moving gloriously as he ran. Searching for her clothes, Jessie finally found them off in the corner by the fireplace. Grabbing her shirt, seeing the straps torn and split down the middle, she opted for C.J.’s shirt instead. “This is incredible. The meters went off the scale. The temperature recorded several degrees below freezing at one point. It didn’t last long, though, as it rose exponentially. And we slept through it all. Damn, I have never seen anything like this before. It’s phenomenal.” “You’re naked, you know?” “What?” His face was glued to the readouts. “You’re naked.” She tossed his jeans at him, hitting him square in the face. Not that she minded seeing him naked. Unaffected by it, he grabbed the jeans and slipped into them, his eyes never leaving the data before him. “The cameras.” He rushed to the video equipment as he did up his pants. “Do you know what this means?” “That you were a busy boy last night.” His eyes lifted to her, confused. “Beg pardon?” “I don’t know how you managed it all alone, but I give you credit for a job well done.” Straightening his back, C.J. angled his head at her. “You think I did all of this?” 57

Secrets of the Dead “No, I know you did all of this. Boy, you’ll do anything to make me a believer.” Clearly angry, C.J. let his calm demeanor slide as the darker side of him slipped out. “You think I did all of this just to make you believe there are other forces around us aside from ourselves?” His voice sounded incredibly deep and more than a little dangerous. “Well…yeah.” “Fine.” Walking to her, he grabbed her arm and led her to the camera. “Let go of me.” “Not until you see this.” Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face the monitor attached to one of the cameras. “Watch.” He pressed play. Folding her arms across her chest, Jessie glared at the screen. There, at the bottom to the left they lay on the floor, naked and cuddling. “Great, you captured us sleeping on tape.” It was actually quite sweet. “Oh, darling, I captured more than us sleeping on these babies, but that’s not it. Watch.” “What do you mean… Oh my God, you taped us making out? How could you?” “I have my cameras set on timers that begin taping on their own. I didn’t know we were going to go at it like rabbits last night. Watch.” “You will erase those tapes,” she insisted, then grunted when he turned her face back to the monitor. “What the hell?” “Keep watching.” She couldn’t pry her eyes away if she tried. There before her, the furniture moved on its own, sliding into the position they now rested, and at the bottom of the screen they slept like babies. “Oh my God.” “My sentiments exactly. I need to check the rest of the house.” He left her mesmerized in front of the TV. How was this possible? How were they moving on their own? It wasn’t possible, yet she stood here now, 58

Shiela Stewart watching as they moved completely on their own. How had they not heard the commotion? “Jessie, you have to see this,” C.J. called out from the kitchen. Turning, prying herself from the monitor, she walked to the kitchen, noticing the dining room table was on its side, blocking the window and the chairs placed on top of one another. In shock, she met C.J. in the kitchen. “Look at this.” Like the dining room, the kitchen table was set up against the door, but unlike the dining room chairs, the kitchen ones were broken in pieces, wood scattered everywhere. The cupboard doors lay torn from their hinges, some hanging by only one hinge. The contents of the cupboards were strewn everywhere. The place was an utter mess and all she could do was stare with her mouth hanging open. “Incredible, isn’t it?” She was speechless. “Jess, Jessie. Are you okay?” “What did you call me?” “Jessie.” He smiled. It was enough to break her shock, and as she turned to him, she felt something click inside of her. “You called me Jessie.” “Yeah, well, even I’ve been known to make mistakes.” He stood before her in only his jeans, his chest bare, blonde hair curling over tanned flesh on his chest. His curly hair was disheveled, a day’s worth of stubble on his face, and he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. “C.J. Dowling make mistakes? Has hell frozen over?” Grinning, he slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer to kiss her head. “Must have. So, what do you think?” I think I’ve fallen in love with you. “About what?” “This, what you see, what happened.” “It’s something.” 59

Secrets of the Dead He turned to her, pursing his lips. “Please tell me you aren’t still thinking I did all of this.” “No, no, I saw enough to know you couldn’t have.” “Then what’s up?” “I think I need a moment to let it all sink in.” Sliding to the floor, she sat, legs crossed among the filth, and stared blankly ahead. “Want a drink?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her. “God, no,” she said abruptly. “Hangover bad?” “There’s a Mariachi band inside my stomach.” “Ouch.” He placed a hand to her belly. “You look good in my shirt.” She looked down at herself, gave a shrug. “Mine was kinda shredded.” “Wonder how that happened?” he smirked. She followed suit and smirked back. “There are ghosts here.” “Yes, darling, there are.” The smirk turned to a smile. “Real ghosts, not make believe.” Kissing her head, he laughed. “For real ghosts.” “I don’t think I know how to process it all.” “Give it time.” Her eyes lifted to his. “You always believed? I thought you were a nut case, but this is for real.” “It certainly is.” He stroked a hand along her arm. “Now what do we do?” “Well, I could think of plenty we could do...” She shivered as his finger slid along her bare thigh. “Are you for real?” “In the flesh.” “The place is a mess and…” she momentarily lost what she was about to say when his hand slid between her legs. “Okay, I give.” But as she sat up to nibble on his scrumptious lips, her stomach rose just a bit too high for comfort. “Oh, I think I might barf.” 60

Shiela Stewart “Isn’t that romantic.” “No, seriously.” She jumped up and bolted from the room. She barely made it to the washroom and decided she was never ever going to indulge in that much booze ever again. Stepping from the washroom, she found C.J. leaning against the wall, waiting for her. “Better?” “No.” He let out a long sigh. “Then you’d better put some clothes on.” “Why?” she asked curiously as she followed him down the stairs. “Because, darling.” He turned to her and she felt herself moisten with the sexual intent she saw on his face. “If I have to see you traipse around in nothing more than my shirt for much longer, I may not give a damn if your feeling ill or not.” “Oh, now who’s being romantic…”

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Chapter 11 They spent the better part of the morning and the afternoon placing the furniture back where it belonged, then cleaning the house. They’d been very surprised to find the bedrooms just as disheveled as the rest of the house. “I would have to say, someone was royally pissed,” C.J. commented, finally taking a break and sitting at the kitchen table with a cold glass of water. He could feel someone present, lurking about, and whoever it was, was not pleased at all. “I’m still trying to grasp this all.” She laid her head gently on the table, exhausted. Stroking her damp hair, C.J. smiled. “Give yourself time.” She had seen more than anyone he had ever known, and he felt closer to her than he thought he ever would with a woman. Lifting her head, she sighed. “When was your first ghost sighting?” This was a tough one. Should he open himself up to her completely and tell her the truth? Or should he give her what she could handle? Dive in, C.J. my boy, and either sink or swim. “When I was three.” Her brow lifted in surprise. “Three? That’s awfully young. How did you know it was a spirit?” Lifting a cigarette from his package, he lit up before responding. “I just knew.” He blew a cloud of smoke in the air, and dove. “There are certain people in the world that have the ability to communicate with the dead. Mediums, clairvoyants, etc. I prefer calling myself a spiritual guide.” His eyes met her and he waited. Would this be where he drowned? She sat back, ran a hand through her damp hair. “A spiritual guide?” He felt himself sinking. “Yes.” Taking his glass, she gulped down half before setting it down. “Explain it more clearly to me.” 62

Shiela Stewart He was treading water now. “I can feel them, their presence…spirits,” he added, then drew on his cigarette. “It’s like a tingling at the back of my neck, and a faint electrical charge goes through my system. When the spirit is strong, vengeful or afraid, I often get severe indigestion. I feel them before I see them.” “You can see them?” He flicked the ashes into the ashtray and continued. “Yes, I can, though sometimes it’s a little foggy. Depends on their strength.” “You see them?” she asked a little more excitedly, leaning forward, placing her arms on the table. With a smile and a nod, he responded. “Yes, Jessica, I can see them.” “Wow. What do they look like? Are they bloody, decayed, bones?” Her eyes lit with excitement. Apparently he was swimming after all. “Sometimes I see them the way they died, but never as just bones. It’s their soul, their entities that come to me, not their bodies. When I see them as they were when they died, it’s for a reason.” “And that reason would be…?” She was totally engrossed now. “Mostly to make a point, as to say, ‘Hey, look what the living did to me, now fix it’.” He tapped out the cigarette and lifted to make some coffee. He wondered if the entity had tossed the perked coffee and spared the decaf, thinking no one would care to use the decaf. Shrugging that thought away, he started a pot of water to boil. “And do you?” “I try, but sometimes I can’t.” And those were the cases that always ate at his gut. He hated leaving something unresolved, but sometimes there was no other choice. “Why not?” 63

Secrets of the Dead He turned back and smiled, realizing she was completely enthralled by what he was saying. “This isn’t freaking you out at all is it?” “No. And believe me, my not being freaked out by it is a little freaky. I mean, come on, I’m a die hard skeptic, and here I am sitting at a table, talking with a guy who communicates with the dead, in a house with spirits.” She held her hands out as if to say, ‘I rest my case’. Laughing, he leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. “You’re amazing, Jessica. To answer your question, I can’t always help the dead. I can only do so much, dig into things so far without drawing attention to myself and being called a freak.” “But you are a freak.” She said it with the utmost affection, and if he didn’t catch that in her words, the smile was enough to clue him in. “I think I get what you mean. Who knows about this ability of yours?” “My family, my boss, you.” Her left brow lifted in surprise. “That’s it?” “That’s it.” “No girlfriends?” “Nope.” There were very few people he trusted with his gift. “So what about your family, they must have told people?” “Hard to tell someone something they don’t believe in.” He turned to her and saw the confusion on her face. “My family doesn’t accept the fact that I can communicate with the dead.” “For real?” He nodded. “Why don’t they believe you?” “Did you believe in spirits before today?” he countered. “No, but I’m not a family member. I would think they would trust you more than that.” 64

Shiela Stewart Yeah, so did he. “I’m an embarrassment to them. My grandfather has gone so far as to disown me.” “Get out. Wait, grandfather, would this be the same one whom you share a name with?” “One and the same.” Now she understood. “Can’t say I blame you for the name change. Carlton is a stuffy sort of name, and though you are pretentious at times, you’re not stuffy.” “Gee, thanks Jessica.” The water finally boiling, C.J. filled his cup, setting the pot back, then adding decaf coffee. It would have to do, he supposed. “Make me one too, please, I’m so damn thirsty.” “Yeah, hangovers will do that to you.” He set the cup in front of her, grinning. “What?” “Nothing.” Still grinning, he sat down to enjoy his coffee and a smoke. “That is not a nothing grin, pal, now fess up.” “Who knew you were such an animal…” Lowering her head, her face turning red, Jessie tried to disguise it by drinking her coffee. “Are you blushing?” “No,” she said vehemently. “You are, you’re blushing. Oh, my God, that’s so cute.” Her fist lifted with warning. “Back off, Dowling, or you’ll be sporting a shiner.” His coffee and cigarette forgotten now, he moved next to her, leaning close to her face. “Wouldn’t be the first time I received a black eye. Come on, animal, take your best shot.” Snarling at him, she pushed from the table. “And waste my energy on a slug like you? I don’t think so.” “Chicken.” Her back stiffened, and as she turned, her emerald eyes narrowed. “I am not chicken.” 65

Secrets of the Dead “Where I’m sitting darling, you sure look chicken to me.” “You want me to hit you?” “Not particularly, no, but I like the fire in your eyes. Reminds me of last night. There it is again.” She was blushing like a school girl and it was very appealing. “Oh, go talk to your ghosts.” With her head held high, she marched from the room. Laughing, C.J. leaned back in his chair and finished off his cigarette and coffee. The day was turning out pretty damn good so far.

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Chapter 12 C.J stood near the entrance to the living room, watching as Jessica sat with her face practically plastered against the tiny television screen, hooked up to one of his cameras. Just looking at her made him feel all warm inside. He remembered vividly how she had felt in his arms, how her naked body had fit perfectly with his. Though she’d changed into her own clothing, he could still visualize her wearing only his shirt and nothing more. He wondered what she would do if he whisked her off her chair and threw her down on the ground and ravaged her delicious body. “What are you doing?” Shrieking, Jessie jumped from the chair she’d been sitting in. And C.J.’s first reaction was to laugh. “Why the hell do you find scaring me so damn funny? My God, I could have had a heart attack.” “It wasn’t intentional, darling, but it sure gave me a thrill. What were you watching that has you so spooked?” As he pulled up a chair and sat beside her, he saw the tape from the night before, stilled on the screen. “Ah, now I see.” Settling down now, she took her seat, and played the tape. “I was just reviewing this. It’s a little freaky to watch.” “I imagine for you it is.” “But not you, because you’re used to this sort of thing. I still can’t get over it. Did you know this place was haunted before you came here? Like, seriously know, not just taking the owners’ word on it?” “No, but hearing their accounts I had a strong suspicion what they described was the truth.” “Why?” She stretched out in the chair, her long tanned legs dangling over the arms. Damn, she was sexy. He remembered just what those legs had felt like touching his sides, lifting up and curling 67

Secrets of the Dead around his back as he drove himself into her. How wild she had been, writhing beneath him, gyrating her hips, nails digging into his back as her body convulsed over and over and…. “C.J.” “What?” he jumped at her voice, suddenly feeling incredibly hot. “You okay?” “Yeah, fine. What did you say?” He couldn’t recall a single word she had said to him. “You’re flustered. Why are you flustered?” “I’m not.” “You are so. You never get flustered.” She sat up, leaning forward. “What were you thinking just now?” “Nothing.” It suddenly came back to him. He hoped. “You asked why I knew the house was haunted just by talking with the owners.” Her lips curling in a smirk, she pressed on. “Let’s set that conversation on the back burner for now and discuss what it was that distracted you, making you pant and looking a little wild in the eyes.” “I was not panting and my eyes never go wild.” “Oh, they go wild alright, and you were most definitely panting.” Her eyes wandered down to his crotch. “You’re hard!” He didn’t have to look down to know she was right, but he did shift to disguise it a little more. Change the subject and now. “The moment I stepped into this place, I knew there were other presences here, so when I made you that bet, I had the upper hand.” “Now that wasn’t very nice. What were you thinking about that got you hard? Do ghosts get you hard, C.J.? Are you a necrophiliac?” His eyes narrowed. “That’s an obsession with a corpse, Jessica. There are no corpses here.” She bit her lip, smirking. “Fine, whatever. Tell me what you were thinking about.” 68

Shiela Stewart “You’re not going to let up until I do, are you?” “Nope.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I was thinking. I was remembering what it felt like to have these gorgeous legs of yours wrapped around my body as I drove myself into you.” His fingers slid up her ankle, past her knee and all the way to her thighs before she stopped him. “C.J...” “Do you know what else I remember?” He placed his hands on the arms of the chair, standing up, leaning over her, his eyes meeting hers. “I remember how wild you were, bucking beneath me, begging me with your body to give you more.” She swallowed hard, and if the pink in her cheeks was any indication, she was growing aroused by what he was telling her. “And I wonder, Jessica, just what else I could do to you to make you scream out in ecstasy.” He took her mouth in one sharp motion that took her breath away. He felt her suck it in, felt her hold it as he devoured her lips. And while he toyed with her mouth, he yanked her to her feet, pulling her tight against his chest. There’s my animal, he thought as she backed him against the wall, pressing her belly against his. When her hand slid down and not so gently grabbed hold of his dick, his eyes nearly crossed. He felt it then, the sharp stinging pain in the center of his chest that warned him of the rage that was stirring in the room. The conflict of emotions swirled like a confusing brew inside of him, his loins begging him to proceed, his mind telling him to take cover. He hadn’t had time to decide when a loud crash startled them both. They broke apart, Jessica spinning around just as a vase flew towards them. Grabbing her, C.J. pushed them to the side as the vase crashed into the wall, tiny shards of 69

Secrets of the Dead glass falling to the floor and scattering. The matching vase lay shattered only feet before them. He released Jessica, stepped back in experiment, and felt the rage still slightly. “Hmm.” “What hmm, and what the hell is going on? Did that vase just fly towards us?” “I need to experiment.” Grabbing her by the arms, C.J. yanked her against him and took her mouth hastily while his hands roamed her body. He felt the bubbling in his gut and knew an instant before the rage erupted that he was onto something. Releasing her quickly, he stepped away and waited. “What the hell?” “Someone doesn’t like me touching you.” “What?” Rubbing his chest, the burning very unsettling, he turned to Jessica with complete seriousness. “I believe that last night’s display was a temper tantrum because I was with his girl.” “English, Dowling, I’m a little keyed up here and my mind is mush.” Oh, he wanted to finish what they had started in the worst way, but he didn’t think now was the best time. Not until the angry energy swirling about stilled. Damn the spirit for ruining his fun. He shifted himself and took a deep breath in hopes of cooling his libido down. “You know those so called bugs you felt the first night you were here?” “Yeah.” She shuddered. “It wasn’t bugs, darling, that was a man having a little pleasure moment.” “What the hell are you talking about, Dowling?” Frowning, she dropped down into her chair, her body starting to settle down. “I believe what you felt were the hands of Darius Smithers, attempting to have his way with you.” 70

Shiela Stewart She snorted in response, then laughed it off. “Get out, that is so ridiculous.” “He was reportedly a ladies man.” C.J. sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette, feeling the energy around him calm. He was more than relieved. At least his stomach could settle down now, as well as other uncomfortable aches. “And I think he’s taken a fancy to you, and might I say, I can’t blame the guy. You are quite the woman Jessica.” “Are you trying to tell me that you think there is some perverted ghost here trying to fondle me at night?” She snorted again. “Come on, Dowling, that’s absurd.” “Why is that absurd? Think about what you’ve witnessed this past day, then think back to what it felt like that first night, in your bed. If it had been bugs, darling, where did they go, why didn’t you see any when you changed the bedding?” She put a hand to her stomach. “Oh god, oh ick.” Then her eyes went wide. “That means in the washroom, it was him touching me, and in bed, he pinched my nipple. Oh God, God. I feel sick.” Lifting to her feet, she ran for the stairs and to the washroom. Couldn’t say he blamed her. It sickened him just thinking about what the perverted entity might have done to her. With the smoke smoldering between his fingers, he lifted his head and searched the room. “Only a coward violates a woman, and only a coward hides his face. Touch her again, and you’ll have me to answer to.” A gust of wind swept into the room, stirring the curtains, rattling the windows and tossing pictures to the floor. In the midst of the storm brought on by a pissed ghost, C.J. stood, calmly tapped his cigarette out, then headed after Jessica. He’d grown out of his fear of the dead a long time ago.

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Secrets of the Dead Chapter 13 Washing the foul taste from her mouth, Jessie took a moment to calm herself. She didn’t want to think about the reason she had just spilled her guts in the toilet. Sure, a good part of her queasy stomach might be attributed to her hangover, but not all, and it was the other part she didn’t want to think or rehash in her mind. Feeling more stable, she lifted from the sink and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked…she didn’t want to even think deathly, but it was close. Wiping her hands on the towel, she was reminded of the episode in the shower. The hands on her body had felt so—she cut her thoughts off, giving her head a shake. She didn’t care to go there right now. Opening the door, she was surprised to see C.J. standing in the hall, leaning against the wall across from the door, waiting for her. “Feeling better?” “No. I need something to eat, though. I’ve got the shakes.” Was it from lack of food or the revelation of what had actually happened to her that brought it on? She couldn’t be sure. “I’ll scrounge something up for us to eat. Feel like talking?” “No.” She really didn’t. “I think you might feel better if you talked about what happened to you.” “And give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing what he did to me is affecting me? I think not.” “Okay.” He helped her down the stairs. “Wow, you’re shaking like a leaf. Are you a diabetic?” “No. Why?” “You’re pretty shaky, and you said you needed to eat. Probably just shock, and spilling your guts in the toilet. It’s raining again.” 72

Shiela Stewart Glancing out the window on her way through the living room, she saw that it was. “I would love to feel that on my face right now.” “Doors are still sealed tight. Someone doesn’t want us to leave here.” He helped her to a chair then turned to the cupboards. “How does soup sound?” “Perfect.” She didn’t think her stomach could handle anything else. “You made me that stupid bet knowing there were spirits here? That’s unfair.” Smiling, C.J. opened a can of vegetable soup. “Thought that one got past you.” “Memory like a—what has a good memory?” Her mind currently was a little off. “Elephants,” he supplied, stirring the soup in the pot. “Right. Is there anything to make a sandwich with in the fridge?” “I’ll check.” He moved to the fridge and as he bent over she admired just how well his jeans fit against his nice firm ass. “So, back to my discussion—” “Wasn’t a discussion, you were accusing.” He carried the meat and cheese to the counter. “Whatever. That was pretty crummy of you, but what I want to know is how you knew I would believe in ghosts after two days? Unless you had an inside track on that as well? Did they tell you they were going to lock us in here?” He turned to see her eyes narrowed in on him. “No, I didn’t know they were going to lock us here. I had hoped something would show up to sway you from your adamant disbelief, but that wasn’t the reason why I made the bet.” “Then why did you make the bet?” “I wanted to know what it was like to kiss you.” He set the plate of deli meat on the table, his eyes lowering to her with a seductive slant. “You wanted to know what it was like to kiss me?” “Yes, I did.” 73

Secrets of the Dead “You don’t even like me, or at least you didn’t. I hope that’s changed now, though.” A man didn’t do what he had done with her—to her—if he disliked a woman. But she had to make sure. “I liked you just fine before, Jessica, even more now; I just liked aggravating you, still do,” he replied comically, setting the hot pot on the place mat on the table. “Gee, lucky me.” She slapped meat between two pieces of bread, then took a huge bite. “How do I prevent him from touching me again?” she asked apprehensively after swallowing the food in her mouth. “I’ll stay with you.” Her brow lifted. “As in, sleep with me?” “Unless you have a problem with that, yes.” He handed her the bowl, then filled another for himself. “We’ve had sex, Jessica.” He supplied after a moment’s silence. “I know that.” “Then what’s the problem?” “We hardly know each other.” His eyes lifted to her with surprise. “We had sex, Jessica,” he repeated a little slower this time. She snorted in response, stirring her hot soup. “Sex is different than sleeping with someone, and besides, I was drunk.” His hand stopped midway to his mouth. Dropping the spoon back into the bowl of soup, he replied. “Are you saying that the only reason you had sex with me was because you were drunk?” “Well, yeah, but…” “Oh, oh, I get it.” He pushed from the table, obviously angry. “That’s nice, Jessica, fucking nice. Thank you for that.” Marching past her, he left her alone at the table. “I was going to add that I don’t normally sleep with people I barely know, and that I didn’t regret having sex with you. Until now.” She whispered the last, anger rippling off of her. The room suddenly quiet, she felt 74

Shiela Stewart uneasy being alone. Looking around, she hoped the entity was no where near her now. She kept a watchful eye – not that she would be able to do anything if he tried something. Great, not only was she angry but now she was paranoid as well. Great, fucking great. ~ To keep himself busy and his mind off of a certain female he refused to acknowledge, C.J. went over every bit of information he had accumulated thus far, making sure he had everything documented properly and coded on disc with his own pass code. He wasn’t taking any chances with this evidence. She only had sex with you because she was drunk. Growling under his breath, C.J. flipped through his printouts. What was wrong with him, obsessing over what Jessica had said? It shouldn’t matter what she thought, or what she said. It was her loss if she didn’t want to be with him. She was just going to have to fend for herself from now on and find a way to keep Mr. Greedy Hands from copping a feel. Oh, who was he kidding, he couldn’t do that, couldn’t leave her to deal with the entity on her own. He cared too much about her to do that to her. The familiar tickle drew his attention. Lifting his head from his papers, he saw her standing before him, that now familiar solemn look on her face. “Hello, Andrea.” She didn’t respond and he hadn’t expected her to. “Why do you always look so troubled? I know your death was tragic, but I sense something else is behind your misery.” Moving in soundless steps, she closed the distance between them until she was a breath away. She had incredible brown eyes, and he wondered if they had lit with glee when she had been alive. He felt her presence as she touched his hand. It was an odd sensation he had felt only a few times before, but it was never forgotten. A cool feeling like that which occurs from sucking on a mint, 75

Secrets of the Dead came close to what he felt when she touched his hand. And when his hand lifted without his assistance, and began to write on his pad, he was compelled to watch. Save us.

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Chapter 14 Her force still in control of his hand, C.J. lifted curious eyes. “Save you? From what?” His hand moved again as she controlled what he wrote. From him. “Your father?” His hand moved quickly to write Yes. “Are you afraid of him?” Once again his hand moved as she wrote No. He was confused now. “I don’t understand Andrea.” His hand moved quickly to write He wants you dead. The angry cold wind stirred around him, stinging his cheeks and with a jolt, shocking his system, Andrea withdrew herself from him and vanished. And just as quickly as the wind had come up, it dissipated. Lifting his hand, giving it a shake, hating the tingling sensation he always felt after an encounter, he tried to make sense of what she had been trying to tell him. Who did she mean for him to save and what had she meant by her father wanting him dead? He hadn’t done anything to warrant an entity taking vengeance on him. He had the written words of the dead in front of him yet he was as clueless as if he knew nothing. This whole ordeal was becoming more bizarre by the minute. “I’m going to bed,” Jessie announced as she stomped past him, moving through the room. Shaking himself free of the ordeal he had just endured, his head lifted to Jessie. “Alone?” he inquired, still miffed at her. The ghostly encounter hadn’t rid him of the hurt, or the revelation that he was good enough for a quick fuck but nothing more. “Yes.” Her head held high, she took the steps toward her room. “Hope you enjoy company, because I have a feeling he’s going to be in a mood tonight.” Okay, that might have 77

Secrets of the Dead been uncalled for, but he wasn’t feeling exactly kind at the moment. Pulling out a cigarette, his system still unsettled, he flicked the lighter on as the bedroom door slammed shut. Grabbing his ashtray, he made his rounds, checking his instruments and making sure everything was running. Taking one of the digital thermometers, and a camera, he headed up the stairs. Grabbing a pillow and blanket from his room, he set up beside Jessica’s door, and made himself as comfortable as possible. It was going to be a long night. When the bedroom door opened and Jessie stepped out in a t-shirt and white cotton underwear, he nearly swallowed his tongue. “What the hell are you doing?” Her arms crossed over her chest, she glared at him. “Protecting you.” Though, seeing her standing a mere two feet from where he sat, he wanted to do more to her than protect her. That was, he would if he wasn’t angry with her. “I don’t need your protection, Dowling.” “Fine, I’m not protecting you, Jessica, I’m doing research. And look, the temperature dropped several degrees the instant you opened your mouth.” He held the thermometer up; though it didn’t show a drop in temperature, he could tell that his snide comment hit the mark by the shocked expression on her face. . He rather liked the way her eyes narrowed and got darker when she was angry. “You know where you can shove that damn thermometer, Dowling,” she countered, her teeth grinding. He stood now, simply to look her in the eyes. “No, Jessica, why don’t you tell me where you would like to shove it.” “Oh, I think you have enough of a creative mind to know where I would shove it.” They stood toe to toe, both too stubborn to back off. 78

Shiela Stewart “You don’t have the nerve.” He dared her, lifting the thermometer in her face. Her eyes narrowed, never leaving his. “Oh, I have the nerve, pal.” She grabbed hold of his hand. “Prove it.” Her hand clasped onto his just a bit tighter. He loved the wicked look in her eyes. She gasped when he yanked her towards him, colliding with his firm chest. Dropping the thermometer, his hands came up to frame her face. The instant their lips touched, the passion exploded. He backed her into the room, kicking the door shut in the process, fighting with the t-shirt she wore, trying to get it over her head while he still clung to her lips. Not wanting to release her mouth, he gave up and went for her underwear instead. Clawing at the snaps on his jeans, Jessie yanked them below his hips, then shoved his boxers down. With both hands, she grabbed hold of his firm tight ass and pulled him against her. Kicking his legs frantically, he managed to free himself of his clothing, nearly stumbling in the process. When she hoisted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist, he didn’t waste any time and shoved her down on the bed. He took hold of her hands, yanking them over her head and when she lifted her hips higher, he plunged. Greedy to take, eager to have, they moved in perfect rhythm. He released her hands so his could roam over her body, arousing already hard nipples. She scraped short nails along his back, making him shiver with delight. He took her mouth as the climax spiked through them and didn’t release her until their quivering subsided. “For the record, I’m still angry at you,” she panted. “Same goes darling.” But he lifted his head with a smile. “Damn.” “Yeah. Who would have thought angry sex could be so good.” She chuckled lightly. 79

Secrets of the Dead “You want me to leave or can I crash here? Because quite frankly, I don’t know if my legs will work.” “You can stay, but let me clarify something first. What I meant earlier, before you interrupted and jumped to your own conclusion…” “Darling, I didn’t have far to jump.” He stroked the damp hair from her face. Her eyes narrowed. “Shut up for once, Dowling. What I was going to say was that I don’t normally have sex with men I hardly know…” “We’ve known each other for close to five years, Jessica.” Her eyes widened in frustration. “Shut up. Fine, I don’t normally fuck men I don’t date for a few weeks first. How’s that?” “Crude, but I get the point. So…being drunk you lose all reasoning and let your body go. Interesting.” He collapsed beside her, drawing her into him and curling his arm around her. “Looks like the place is still standing.” “Looks like.” “I could go check the rest of the house.” He probably should, if his legs worked that was. “Nah, we’ll find out in the morning.” Curling onto her side, she closed her eyes and drew in his scent. “Why do you always smell so good?” “It’s called hygiene, darling.” She grunted. “You’re such a jerk.” Smiling, he kissed her head. “Good night, Jessica.” “’night, Dowling.” C.J. waited until he was sure she was fast asleep before he slipped from the bed. He wanted this recorded and grabbed his thermometer and the mini-cam he’d set out in the hallway. Sitting on the edge of the bed, clicking the camera on, setting the thermometer beside him, he spoke. “Pisses you off that I can have her and you can’t, doesn’t it?” 80

Shiela Stewart He felt the chill in the air, and glancing down at the meter beside him, he saw it was steadily dropping. With the sickening feeling in his belly, he knew the entity was not a happy camper. “I’m not leaving her side, so you better get used to it.” Setting the camera on the nightstand beside him, he aimed it over the bed and hoped the entity made his presence known. Sliding back under the covers, curling Jessica in his arms, he waited and watched, still feeling the spirit in the room. If he had to stay awake all night to catch a personal glimpse of him, then so be it. He wanted to know what the bastard looked like. For three hours he watched and he waited until finally, near three in the morning, the entity gave up. Closing his eyes, C.J. slept soundly beside his lover.

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Chapter 15 The sun beat upon her face as her eyelids stirred. Stretching languidly, feeling utterly content, she opened her eyes. Blinking at the brightness, she rolled over, ready for some cuddling, or a quickie before breakfast, and found the spot beside her empty. What she did see, though, didn’t impress her. Sitting up, pushing from the bed, she looked at the back of the camcorder and fumed. It was recording. Furious, she grabbed her shorts and shimmying into them, then lifted the camera and left the room. Wherever he was he was going to get an earful. “Dowling, Dowling, where the hell are you?” she hollered as she stomped down the carpeted stairs. “In the kitchen.” “What the hell is the meaning of this?” She held the camera up, shaking it in fury. “A video camera dear.” “I know that, what I want to know is, why was it recording me while I slept?” She slammed it down on the table, making him cringe. “Hey, careful. Do you have any idea how expensive that camera is?” Lifting it, he checking it out carefully. “I was recording the room, darling.” “Which I happened to be sleeping in. Oh my God, did you record us fucking last night?” Her face blushed with the thought. “As interesting as that sounds, I did not record us last night. What a crude mouth you have.” He clucked his tongue at her, warranting a nasty glower. “I still have the first time we made love on tape for me to muse over.” His eyes lit with amusement. “Oh my God, are you serious? Why haven’t you erased that yet?” She was mortified. How dare he keep a tape of something as intimate as their love making? 82

Shiela Stewart “Because it has evidence of what occurred while we slept. Hungry?” he pushed from the table, leaving his work sitting while he scrounged for something to eat. “I’m famished. Fine, okay, you can keep the evidence of what happened, just edit us out of it.” “I will edit them and blur out our face, how is that?” He found some frozen waffles in the freezer. “Not good enough. I don’t want some nerdy scientist watching us going at it like wild rabbits and getting off on it. God, Dowling, how can you even think of leaving it in there?” His laughter caught her off guard. “I don’t find this the least bit funny.” “Oh, darling, you are so much fun to tease. I’ve edited the tape, blurring out our bodies, not to worry. I’m not too fond of having someone watching our intimate moments, either.” Walking to him, her forehead frowning, she slugged him. “Why are you such a jerk? That wasn’t funny at all.” Rubbing his arm, he smiled at her. “Good morning, Jessica.” “Well, it might have been if I hadn’t woken to find the bed empty and a camera staring at me. Jesus, why was it there in the first place?” She turned to grab a cup and was spun so quickly she nearly lost her balance, and before she could say anything, C.J. closed her mouth with his in a wild, erotic, heart thumping kiss. When he finally released her, she felt her entire body tingle. “I said, good morning, Jessica.” “Good morning,” she said dreamily, lost in the moment. Releasing her, he pulled out two plates from the cupboard next to him. “The camera was there because you had a visitor last night and I was hoping to catch him on tape.”

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Secrets of the Dead “What? He was in my room?” She felt a sudden chill ripple throughout her body. The thought that he might have touched her, again, made her stomach sour. “He was a little put off with me being there, but he didn’t do anything.” He stroked his knuckles across her cheek. “I wouldn’t have let him if he had tried.” “Oh, good.” She straightened her back. “Damn straight you wouldn’t have let him touch me, that was the reason you were allowed in my bed, remember?” He spun her again, catching the grin on her face. “As I recall, you were pretty eager to allow me into your…bed.” The undertone was caught and understood loud and clear. “I got what I wanted on both accounts. You’re actually turning out to be quite useful, Dowling.” She bit her lip, trying to not to smirk at him. “Oh, I think I could show you just how useful I could be to you, given time.” Pulling her against him, he nibbled on her ear lobe and her pulse began to quicken. She let her head fall back, enjoying what his mouth was doing to her earlobe. But then her tummy rumbled and broke the intimate moment. “I’m hungry.” “So am I.” he continued to nibble his way along her neck. As much as she wanted him to continue, she was famished, and that was priority right now. Breaking free of his hold, she giggled as she moved to the table. “If we keep this up, we’re going to end up killing each other.” “True, but what a way to go.” “We can have sex just as soon as I fill my belly. Food, Dowling, and stop pouting.” He looked so darn cute with pouting. He handed her a plate with two rather crisp looking waffles in the center. “Your breakfast, my lady.” “Mmm, yummy.” “Yes, you are.” “Stop it.” “Stop what?’ 84

Shiela Stewart “Looking at me like you’re ready to devour me.” She cut into the waffles before realizing she had yet to pour syrup over them. “I am.” The way he said it and the look in his eyes was doing a number on her. And when his tongue slipped out to slide over his bottom lip she nearly moaned. “Syrup?” “Yes, please.” Taking the bottle he held out to her, their fingers touched and her pulse nearly skyrocketed. “God, I want you.” Maybe the food could wait. With a smirk on his lips, he leaned back and cut into his waffles. “I thought you were starved?” She swallowed the lust clogging her throat and tried to think. “Huh? Oh, yeah, yes, I am.” Giving herself a mental shake, she dipped the forkful of waffles into the syrup before placing it into her mouth. Why had she never noticed him the way she was noticing him now? “I’ve been thinking,” he began after a few moments of silence, lifting from his seat to make them both some instant coffee. “Thought I smelled smoke,” Jessie teased, trying to get her system to calm down. “There has to be a reason why we’re locked in this house,” he continued as if she hadn’t even made a comment. “You know, I often wondered if those rumors of your intelligence were fact or fiction. Looks like its fiction.” He turned to her with an unimpressed look on his face. “You just love poking fun at me, don’t you?” “I live for it.” She snickered, motioning with her fork for him to continue. Letting out a long breath, he continued. “Andrea got me thinking that she might be the reason we’re stuck here.” “Who is Andrea?” She picked at the waffles on her plate. They weren’t the greatest, but they would do. 85

Secrets of the Dead “The eldest of the Smithers children. She’s come to me a few times now.” “Oh. How do you figure she’s the reason?” “Well, asking me to save her is a start.” The water began to boil, so he removed the pot and set it on the placemat that sat in the center of the table. “She spoke to you?” She wasn’t sure how all this ghost stuff worked. “No, her tongue was severed—I don’t know when, but she used crude sign language to let me know. Probably would have been easier if she had just used me to write like she did last night.” He poured hot water into two cups then handed Jessica hers. “What do you mean, used you to write?” Scooping up a huge spoon of instant coffee, she stirred while watching C.J. intently. “In certain cases, a spirit can possess a human to communicate.” Her brow lifted in utter shock. “That’s for real?” “It’s fact. If the entity is strong enough, it can possess for days, even weeks.” “That is just way too creepy.” She shuddered with the thought. “It can be, I suppose. Anyway, to answer your question, I spoke with Andrea the other night and she asked me to save her, well, her exact words were ‘save us’.” “Us, who us?” Her food forgotten now, Jessie leaned forward intently. “I assume her family.” “Who does she want you to save them from?” “Her father. She isn’t scared of him, or so she said, but I wonder. Whenever he is present, she leaves in a hurry.” “I can’t blame her; I don’t much care for him myself.” Lifting her coffee cup, she remembered the way his icy hands had felt sliding over her body and that eerie face she had seen when she had turned around. 86

Shiela Stewart He reached out to lay his hand over hers. “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t let him touch you again.” Taking comfort in that, she felt more at ease and finished off her breakfast.

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Chapter 16 Research had always been easy for C.J. He thrived on finding background data, gathering as much information as he could and learning everything possible before stepping forward in whatever he was doing. Yet now, finding information on Darius Smithers was proving to be a very daunting task for him. All he had to work with was his laptop, and it wasn’t being very useful to him at the moment. Sure, he was glad he had an internet connection again, but he was still having trouble gathering information. What he needed was to go into a library and do a personal search. Tossing his hands in the air in frustration, C.J. gave up. He wasn’t getting anywhere but on a steady road to frustration. Grabbing his cigarette pack, noticing he was down to less than half a pack, he lit one anyway. “Problem?” Tossing the rag in the sink she’d used to wipe the counters, Jessie leaned over C.J.’s shoulder. “Yes. Technology sucks.” She waved the smoke from her face and pulled up a chair, turning his laptop to face her. “What were you looking for?” “Anything on Darius Smithers.” He puffed on his cigarette with agitation. “Did you try the library?” “No, kind of hard to do that when I’m locked in the house.” His snarl was prominent as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. “Grumpy. I meant on line. Let me give it a try.” She punched in the local library address and waited for it to pop up. “Why are you so tense?” He stood now, pushing from the chair with a quick jerk. “I’m just feeling cooped up, I guess. I’m not used to being stuck in one place. I like to keep busy.” He hadn’t had his usual morning run that got him going for the busy days he usually had. 88

Shiela Stewart “Well, talk with your little ghostly friend and convince her to let us out. “ She worked away on the keyboard, typing in her request while C.J. prowled behind her. “I’ve tried contacting her. She isn’t responding.” Restless fingers slid through his hair while he paced the floor, cigarette smoke in his trail. “How exactly do you contact the dead? Is it like they show on TV with séances and such?” “Do you believe everything you see on TV, Jessica?” “Yes, Dowling, I do, and I totally believe humans can beam from one place to another and the good guys always win in the end.” She rolled her eyes with her sarcastic comment. “I’m not in the mood for your sarcasm right now, Jessica.” Tapping his cigarette out in the ashtray, he decided to make another cup of coffee. He wished the spirits hadn’t chosen to dump all the regular coffee all over the floor. He sure could use a good caffeinated boost right now. Maybe that was his problem; he hadn't had caffeine in days. Putting a pot of water on to boil, he decided it would have to do. “Why don’t you take a nap or something because you’re only pissing me off with your grumpiness.” “I am not grumpy,” he snapped. “No, you’re not grumpy at all.” She pushed from her seat, turned to C.J., grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into a chair. “What the hell are you doing?” She shut the water off before turning to his tense neck. “I’m attempting to get you to relax. Jesus, feel how tense you are. Take a deep breath and count to ten before you explode or something. Your muscles are rock hard.” “I’m not going to explode.” He hoped. But as she worked his neck, he found himself not only relaxing, but thinking of other ways she could relieve his tension. “That feels great. I can think of another use for those hands.” 89

Secrets of the Dead “Behave, Dowling. Why don’t you tell me why your grandfather disowned you?” “Already did.” “Expand on it, Dowling.” She was actually managing to relax him. “We got into an argument when he insisted I give up my fantasy of searching for ghosts and go to work for him at the book store.” “Let me guess, you put him in his place?” She stroked his shoulders, easing the tense muscles. “I did indeed. Told him I had no intentions of giving up something that was as much a part of me as breathing, and that if he cared even the tiniest bit about me he would understand that.” “He disowned you for that?” She stroked her hands up and down along his arms, relaxing him. “No, he disowned me when I told him that I understood why grandmother dumped his sorry ass and ran off with the horse trainer.” “C.J., that was mean.” But she said it with a snicker. “I wasn’t as subdued back then as I am now.” He angled his head to face her. “You called me by my name.” “No, I called you by those initials you claim as a name. How old were you when this happened?” “Twenty.” She paused briefly before beginning again. “You were cocky in your youth.” “I was more than cocky, I was a bastard. I had a temper and I had a foul mouth to boot, and it didn’t help that more times than not I drowned my sorrows in a bottle of beer.” She stopped now and stepped to his side to face him. “Were you an alcoholic?” “No, I know when to say no, but back then I was having trouble figuring out what I wanted to do with my life and bothered by the fact that my family wasn’t accepting of my gift.” 90

Shiela Stewart Carrying on with her massage, she continued, “So what changed? What made you turn yourself around?” “A little boy with so much life left in him but wasn’t allowed to live it. I went on a camping trip just after my argument with my grandfather. I needed to get away, so I rented a cabin and hung out for a few days. The first night I was there I heard screaming coming from the back yard. When I went to check it out, I found a bloody body lying in the woods.” “Oh, my God, C.J., how horrifying.” “More so for the little boy than me. He was caught in that moment, the very moment his body gave up and left this mortal coil to surrender to death. I could feel his pain and I knew he had been raped and beaten to death, but I couldn’t see who it had been that had done such a horrible thing to an innocent child.” “God, that’s just…God…” Collapsing in the chair beside him, she was at a loss for words. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her that story; maybe it was too much for her. “What did you do?” Her eyes lifted to him for answers. “I began searching the missing children’s website, began researching who owned the cabin, who had stayed there in the past year and went from there.” “Did you find his killer?” “Yes, I did.” “Did you turn him in?” He laid his hand over hers and gave it a warm squeeze. “I learned the hard way that you couldn’t just walk into the police station and tell them the deceased had spoken to you and given clues to its killer. So I confronted the killer, carrying a small pocket recorder in hopes he would give himself away.” “Did he?” She looked completely engrossed in the story. Smiling, he lifted her hand to his lips. “He sang like a 91

Secrets of the Dead canary, then beat the pulp out of me. It was a good thing I carried a pocket knife. He’s singing soprano now I imagine, while he rots in jail.” “You cut his balls off? Ew.” She scrunched her nose up. He laughed. “No, but I jabbed the knife in them good and hard, then took off and called the cops.” “Let me just say one thing.” She turned his laptop to face her. “Remind me never to piss you off.” “Darling, you do nothing but piss me off.” “Be nice to me, Dowling, or I won’t share my information with you.” “What information?” he tried to turn the laptop but received a nasty slap on the hand instead. “The information I gathered from calm thinking. Say please, Dowling.” She bared her teeth in a mocking grin. Letting out a long breath, he caved. “Please.” “Please what?” “Please, show me what you have, Jessica.” “You’ve already seen what I have, Dowling, but if you want another look, I can oblige,” she teased. “On the laptop,” he snarled. “Hmmm, kinky, but okay, I guess. It’s your laptop.” “Jessica,” he said through seething teeth. “Yes, C.J.” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “I want the laptop.” He held his hand out, his eyes darkening. “You want to have sex with the laptop? How sick.” She couldn’t contain herself and started laughing riotously. “Are you through?” She held the laptop to her stomach, grinning. “Nearly. Now I understand why you like to play mind games. It’s so much fun.” He wasn’t having as much fun as she, but he was about to. “Do you know what other game I like to play Jessica?” “No, what?” 92

Shiela Stewart “Strangle the red head holding my laptop.” “That’s not a real game.” But she inched away none the less. “It is now. Run.” Laughing, Jessie bolted from the room. And the chase was on.

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Chapter 17 She had the longest legs he had ever seen on a woman, and she certainly knew how to use them. Jessica managed to keep several steps ahead of him as he chased her through the living room and towards the stairs. But he wasn’t a runner for nothing. Taking the steps by two’s, he managed to catch up to her at the top of the stair case, making her squeal as he nabbed her around the waste, lifting her right off her toes. Laughing, clutching the laptop tightly against her chest, she wiggled in his arms. “Okay, okay, you win. Put me down, you fool.” Like the fool he was, he actually trusted her and let her go. Making a mad dash, Jessica laughed as she scrambled down the hallway. Shaking his head, laughing, C.J. tore after her. Where did she think she was going to run? The hallway was a dead end. Pushing the door open to her left, Jessica darted through the room, realizing she had now trapped herself. “Damn it.” “Now who’s the fool, Jessica?” With a mocking laugh, he inched his way towards her, the bed the only thing separating them. “From where I’m standing, I would have to say it’s still you.” Laughing, she motioned to the right, then darted to the left, barely scooting past him as she ran through the doorway and down the hall. Damn, she was agile. Taking off after her, he saw her run for the stairs. “You can run, Jessica, but you’ve got no where to go.” He stopped short when he felt the angry presence stirring around him. “Jessica.” He barely managed to get her name out when he felt the anger lunge for him. Like he had been sucker punched in the chest, he tumbled backwards, falling down hard on the floor. Around him doors slammed and the wind stirred up with a fierce rage. He heard his name being called above the 94

Shiela Stewart thunderous noise and when he looked up he saw Jessica heading towards him. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” she screamed out above the noise, still clutching the laptop, staring wide eyed at the mayhem around her. “Stop it!” The wind settled down, the doors closed softly and the room stilled. But he still felt the presence like acid in his belly. “Oh, he isn’t impressed.” “Are you okay?” Rushing to his side, she dropped the laptop beside them on the floor, and laid her hand on his face. “I…think so.” But when he sat up, he clearly felt the ache in his ribs. “Hmm.” Lifting his shirt, he saw the fist mark in his chest, beginning to bruise the skin. “Wow!” He had never been injured by a spirit before. “Holy hell, what happened?” When she touched the round discolored mark on his chest, he flinched. “I believe I was punched.” Wiping the hair from his face, he stood, mindful of his sore chest. “I don’t think he liked me chasing you.” “He did this? God, I can’t believe this. Why, why did he do this?” She cast her arms out to indicate the wind and the crashing doors as well as C.J. “I think he’s smitten with you and doesn’t like me being in the middle. Come on, let’s go down stairs. I think I could use some ice.” Grabbing the laptop, Jessica swung her arm around C.J.’s waist and helped him down the stairs. “You’re joking, right, about him being smitten with me?” “No, darling, I am not joking.” He didn’t mind her arm around him, but he wasn’t that weak that he needed her help. If anything, he thought she was the one that needed the comforting arm. “Wait.” He stopped them at the top of the stairs and turned her to face him. “I don’t think he would hurt you, but he has shown on more than one occasion that he does want you.” He cupped her face in his hands and looked her deeply in the eyes. “I’ll do whatever 95

Secrets of the Dead it takes to make sure he doesn’t lay a hand of any sort on you.” He sealed that promise with a kiss. “Now, let’s take a look at that information.” ~ They sat at the table with the laptop before them, a half bag of crumpled chocolate chip cookies in a bowl, going over the information Jessica had managed to find. C.J. held a bag of ice against his abdomen, the bruising becoming more prominent, but the ice was managing to dull the pain. Jessica had been relatively quiet since they’d sat at the table, and C.J. worried that all this was getting to be too much for her. “I can go over this later if you don’t feel like looking at it now.” “Why wouldn’t I want to look at it now? You know, I would have thought a smart guy like yourself would have thought to check the archived newspapers for any articles relating to a house fire in nineteen thirteen.” Okay, that was better. A sarcastic Jessica was better than a quiet one. “I didn’t think it was relevant.” “How could you not? You’re researching supposed hauntings in a house where six people died tragically; I would think you would want to look at some actual accounts or pictures of the fire.” His eyes narrowed as he frowned at the screen before him. “Point taken, thank you very much.” “What? I was only pointing out—” “My stupidity. Yes, I got that.” Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it with more enthusiasm than necessary. He was mad. “You don’t like being wrong, do you, Dowling?” “Oh no, Jessica, I love it. What a ridiculous thing to ask.” Rolling his eyes, he drew heavily on his cigarette. She was smiling when she said, “You always have to be right, you always have to have the last word and you always make people believe you know more than anyone else.” 96

Shiela Stewart “I do know more than anyone else,” he countered, blowing smoke in the air with an arrogant lift of his lips. She gave his face a shove with her hand. “Yeah, you keep believing that, Dowling. It really sucks for you when you’re wrong or you come off looking stupid.” “Don’t push me, Jessica.” He tapped his cigarette out in the ashtray. “I’m not pushing you, Carlton. I’m just coming to some conclusions. You’re actually human.” “Don’t ever call me that again. Now, are you done picking me apart or can we get back to the task at hand?” “Sure thing, Dowling.” She turned to the screen, snickering. “Look how different this place looked back then. Nothing but open land around it, no other houses for miles, and now it’s on a busy street. The siding is new, and the garage—oh hey, look, the living room window is different here, there are three separate panes instead of the one big one, and there are more bedroom windows in the picture than there are now.” He barely glanced at the photo; instead he was busy reading the article. Progress was a wonderful thing and technology even better. Journalism had come so far since the primitive methods used in the years past. There wasn’t much to the story, other than the names of the victims, the location of the fire and how long it had taken to put it out. There was a blurb about Smithers having been the local doctor for twelve years before his death. Scanning further down, one name stood out to him and made him go, “Hmmm.” “Hmm, what, hmmm?” Trying to follow where his eyes were, she read the article. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for them. Those poor babies, asleep in their beds when the flames began to scorch them and having no where to run “Hmmm,” he mumbled, scanning through the many faces in the crowd of officers and firemen. 97

Secrets of the Dead “Dowling.” She caught his attention by shaking his arm. “Are you listening to me?” “Vaguely. I happen to notice a familiar name.” He tapped the name at the bottom of the caption, drawing her eyes to it. “James Dowling. Any relations?” “My great grandfather’s name was James, and he was a cop.” Her eyes lifted to his. “Really? Oh, James, like your middle name.” “Let me check some more things out.” Typing in his request, it took him to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police web site. Clicking on the RCMP Honor Roll he had a list of officers dating back as far as 1873. Scanning along the dates, he came to his great grandfather. “There he is. Click on it and check out his bio.” He clicked on the bio, and the article came up. The power flickered around them, then went out. His laptop’s battery power suddenly went down to nothing and shut off. He felt the presence near them and reached out for Jessica’s hand. “C.J.?” “He’s here.”

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Shiela Stewart Chapter 18 Sliding closer to C.J., Jessica looked around as if she might see the ghost pop out in front of her at any moment. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Then he felt it, the warmth he associated with Andrea and took a slow breath. It was an odd combination, the acidy sickness her father produced in his belly, and the warmth he felt in his chest whenever Andrea was present. Slowly, he felt the warmth take over as she appeared at the end of the table, looking across at them. He felt the uneasiness disappear and knew her father had left them. He angled his head as he spoke. “He’s not as strong as you are.” The power came back on, as did his laptop and amazingly, still on the very page it had been on before the black out. “C.J.” Jessica spoke with a quiver in her voice as she stared across the table toward the tiny girl. “Is she…Andrea?” “Yes, this is Andrea.” He smiled at her, hoping the little apparition didn’t run off again. “Thank you.” Andrea nodded in response, then pointed to the computer. “This is important?” When she nodded, he continued. “Why?” Her hand stretched out, she pointed once more, then vanished. “She looked so…real.” Turning to Jessica, hearing the quiver in her voice, he could see the shock on her face. Laying his hand over hers, he did his best to comfort her. “She is real, just not in the flesh.” Turning back to the computer, he began to read aloud. “James Charles Dowling, born 1891, deceased, 1941. Predeceased by his wife, Patricia Ann MacArthur Dowling, age 21, deceased July 14th 1914. Surviving, one son, Carlton James Dowling. James Dowling was killed in 99

Secrets of the Dead the line of duty, January 18th 1931. ” He paused as he scanned down to the photo of his great grandfather in the typical Mounty uniform of the scarlet tunic, black breeches with the gold stripe along the side and black boots. “You don’t look like him at all.” He didn’t see any resemblance either, but he had been told often enough that he resembled his mother’s side of the family more than his father’s. “He was twenty two when the fire took place, and he lost his wife seven months later.” “How sad. And he raised your grandfather all alone?” “He never remarried, no. From what I’ve heard, he had a drinking problem and was very violent.” He’d heard stories of his great grandfather’s temper as well as his alcoholism. He didn’t sound like a very nice man, in his opinion, and C.J. was glad he’d never met him. “It’s weird, though, how the two are connected. The fire that killed the family that you’re here investigating was the very fire your great grandfather helped investigate.” Nodding, C.J. found it more than weird; he speculated if there was more of a connection than what he saw before him. “I smell that smoke again.” She tapped his head, getting his attention. “You’re funny, Jessica.” “What were you thinking?” “Food. I’m starved and those cookies aren’t enough to fill me up.” He pushed from the chair to scrounge through the cupboards and freezer for something edible. “Isn’t the investigator in you intrigued by what you just found out?” “Yes, but the investigator in me needs food to keep his mind active.” As it was, he was feeling a little sluggish right now. “Tell me something, Jessica, you’ve been here for several day’s now, won’t someone be wondering where you are?” 100

Shiela Stewart “My boss, maybe, but he’s probably just pissed off and given up on me by now.” “Do you give your boss a hard time, darling?” He found some frozen chicken breasts and decided it would work perfectly and began to chop it into bite sized pieces. “We don’t see eye to eye on most things. That’s one of the reasons I started looking elsewhere. Damn it…I’m going to miss my interview.” “You’ll get another. What about family?” She pouted, obviously not as sure of that as he was. “Lost my dad six years ago to cancer, and I have no siblings.” “Where is your mother?” he heated a skillet with oil, then tossed the chicken into the hot skillet. “Ran off when I was four. It was a good job, too, damn it.” “There will be another job, Jessica.” Adding some spices, he stirred the meat with one hand, shifting through the cupboard beside him with the other. “Easy for you to say, you’ve got a good education and a great job. I’ve got the bare minimum.” “You’re still young, go back to school, get a degree and then do what you want to do the most.” He added the baby corn he’d found in the cupboard. These people really needed to try something that wasn’t in the can; he thought as he opened it and drained the juices. “I’m not that young anymore.” “Jessica, you’re what? Twenty-five? You’re not that old. You have plenty of time to do what you want to do.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll be twenty six in a few months.” “Yeah, when?” “September tenth.” He stopped stirring long enough to turn to her. “Get out?” “What's wrong with September tenth?” 101

Secrets of the Dead “Nothing, I happen to be fond of it myself, as it’s my birthday as well.” “For real?” Her eyes lit finally. “For real.” He went back to stirring the chicken in the pan. Wasn’t that interesting that they shared the same birth date. Though he was four years older than her. “You’re never too old to change your life.” “I suppose you might be right—if I went back to school, I could probably get a better job. What about you? If you could do one thing, other than be a ghost hunter, what would it be?” Boiling water for rice, C.J. spoke without thinking. “I would write.” “Write what?” “I think I would like to start with Non-fiction, educational material, teaching people the truth about the spirits that live on after death.” “Sounds fascinating, but there are plenty of those out there all ready. You’ll probably only get the diehards that already believe.” “True, but there is always one non-believer that’s curious enough to pick up a book on spirits, just for a laugh. It’s those that I hope to reel in.” She shrugged. “What are you making?” “I’m kinda playing it by ear. I don’t have a lot to work with here, but it’s better than starving.” I was thinking how at ease you look in the kitchen, natural. Do you do a lot of cooking?” He turned off the rice and the hot skillet and moved to the cupboards for plates. “I love to cook and I love to try new things. I hope you like this.” He dished up two servings of rice, then a scoop of the baby corn and chicken onto the plates and set them on the table. He took the bottle of sesame oil he had found in the fridge and drizzled a little over the rice and chicken. “Tell me what you think?” 102

Shiela Stewart “It smells great.” She sampled a forkful and nodded. “Not bad. Hey, if writing and ghost hunting doesn’t pan out for you, you could make a living as a cook.” Sitting down, C.J. enjoyed the meal he had made for the two of them and wished he had thought of a bottle of wine and some candles to go with it.

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Chapter 19 C.J. could tell throughout the meal and while they cleaned up that something was on Jessica’s mind. Occasionally she had tried to pry out of him his feelings towards what they had learned about his great grandfather, but he always shifted the conversation to avoid it. He hadn’t wanted anything to ruin the meal and preferred not to think of work while he ate. It wasn’t good for the digestive system. But he knew he could only put her off so long. If she was anything, she was persistent. Even when he left the room to check his instruments, she followed him, and he knew she was dying to make him talk. It was rather fun to torment her by making her wait. “Okay, I’ve been a patient girl, but it’s driving me insane.” Yep, persistent. “That would be a short trip,” he said without even sparing her a brief glance. “Ha ha. Talk to me.” “I’ve done nothing but talk to you, Jessica.” There had been spikes of spiritual energy earlier when he had been chasing Jessica around the house as well as temperature drops. And there had been a significant spike right before the power had cut out that was most definitely not an energy surge. Though, he did notice several oddities in some of the readings that might indicate an irregularity in the electrical energy used by the house. “True, but not about your great grandfather being at the scene of the fire. What are your thoughts on that?” “That it might be more than a coincidence.” He marked the times and date in his log book, then added the readings, as well as the power outage and the irregular power spikes he was picking up during the day that were unrelated to the entities. “Tell me why you think so?” She dropped on the sofa, swinging her legs up and over the back of the sofa. 104

Shiela Stewart “Why would we be locked here, why is Andrea asking me for help, why does old man Smithers hate me so much, unless there was a connection?” “I agree, but what kind of a connection? Okay, so your great grandfather was one of the officers on scene, but so were lots of other men, including firemen.” He moved from the Ion counter to the EMF detector to mark the differences. “That’s what I need to find out.” “How?” Lifting one leg, she stretched it above her, grabbing hold of her toes. His eyes darted to her bare leg and his mouth all but drooled. Did she own anything besides those skimpy shorts she always wore? He hoped to God no. “By asking Andrea. You have incredibly sexy legs.” With a devious look in her eyes, she slowly ran her hand from her foot all the way to her thigh, and C.J. knew damn well she did it just to tease him. “Simply ask her? Do you seriously believe she’ll come out and tell you?” “You did that on purpose just to tease me, didn’t you?” She smiled slyly. “Oh, yeah.” “That’s nasty. Do it again.” Laughing, she sat up and rolled her neck. “Think of it as a treat, Dowling. If you’re a good boy, you might get more later.” “Screw later, I want more now.” Skirting around his equipment, he pounced on her, making her laugh. “Remember what happens when we get frisky?” “I really don’t care if it pisses him off.” With a quick yank he pulled the shirt over her head. The loud snapping made them both jump. Turning his head C.J. saw the smoke rising out of the back of his instruments. “Damn it, those aren’t cheap.” If Smithers was pissed at him for being with Jessie, he wished he wouldn’t ruin his equipment because of it. 105

Secrets of the Dead She grunted as he pushed off of her, frowning at being disrupted. “You know, I’m getting damn tired of his pissy attitude.” She sat up, clearly unhappy. “You and me both, darling. Oh man, it’s completely fried, and so is the camera and monitor. Damn it, I just bought these, too.” He waved a hand to push away the smoke billowing our from behind the monitor. These had been his own personal instruments, and not funded by the company. “We better hurry and find out why we’re stuck here or I might just go crazy.” She pulled her shirt on. “Damn it, look at these wires.” He held up the connections, melted together. Throwing her hands in the air in obvious frustration, Jessie stood from the sofa. “Since you’re preoccupied with your equipment, I’m going to get myself a drink. ~ It was growing dark outside and Jessie longed to be out in the darkness, in the cool air, under a spray of sparkling stars. What she really needed was to cool down. She’d been more than ready to let Dowling have his way with her and doing whatever she pleased to him, but that had been put to a halt when the damn spirit decided to get pissy. Damn Dowling for being obsessed by his equipment. They were machines, for pity sake; she’d been half naked and ready for a good hard pumping, yet the instant his machines went poof, she wasn’t even a thought. Well, she’d just have to make him pay for it later. Maybe get him all hot and bothered, then leave him to deal with his misery. Yeah, that would be good, she thought, with a wicked grin. Deciding to give the door a try, just in case the spirits had forgotten about locking them inside, Jessica turned the handle to the back door. When it turned and the door creaked open, she nearly screamed in victory.

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Shiela Stewart “Dowling, hey, Dowling,” she called out, pulling the door open, enjoying the fresh breeze that was floating through the screen door. “What?” “Guess what I’m doing right now?” “If it involves naked dancing, I’ll be right there.” Oh sure, now he wants to get naked. “Nope, I’m holding the door open. We’re free, Dowling, the doors are open.” And just as she said the last word, the door was thrust from her grip and slammed shut. “No!” C.J. entered the room as Jessie yanked furiously at the door. “Doesn’t look open to me.” “That’s because it just slammed shut on me. Come on, it was open, let me out.” The door gave and she nearly fell backwards as the door opened. “Yeah!” she cheered. The door slammed shut once more. “Damn it.” Rubbing his chin, C.J. moved to the door. “Let me try?” Moving her aside, he grabbed the handle and gave it a turn. His mouth gaped in surprise when it gave and released, opening the door. “Hmmm,” Then it quickly slammed shut once more. “Okay, someone wants us out, and someone wants us in.” “This is crazy. I want to get out of here. Why are they doing this?” She gave the door a kick, quickly realizing that hadn’t been the smartest thing to do in bare feet. Hoping on one foot, cursing, she held the sore foot. “That was smart, Jessica. Come here.” Leading her to the chairs in the kitchen, he sat down and pulled her onto his lap, taking her foot in his hands and massaging it. “That’s the million dollar question isn’t it? Andrea, got an answer for us on that one?” She appeared by the door, a vision of innocence in white cotton. She pointed to Jessica, then the door. “Jessica can leave?” Andrea nodded. “But then why did the door slam shut on her?” She shook her head, tapping her chest. “You didn’t do it?” She nodded again. 107

Secrets of the Dead “Then who?” A sly knowing smile lifted C.J.’s lips. “Your father?” Andrea nodded once more. “Smithers won’t let me leave?” It wasn’t natural for her to see ghosts, yet she didn’t seem to worry much about seeing the tiny girl before her. My, how things had changed. “My guess is, he wants you.” Andrea nodded “And he wants me to leave?” She nodded again, then pointed to herself, shaking her head. “I know, you want me to stay. I’m just not sure why. Does it have to do with my great grandfather?” She nodded again. “I just don’t understand how.” Her tiny hands lifted, one hand pointed to C.J., the other pointed to herself, then she joined the hands and placed them over her heart. “What is she trying to say?” C.J. scratched his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Andrea.” The wind blew in like a cold northern storm and created a wild beeping sound from C.J.’s machines. Before he could say another word, Andrea vanished. “Damn it.” Jessica lifted from his lap to sit on the chair beside him. “This is so damn confusing.” “You can say that again.” “This is so damn confusing.” His eyes lifted to her with confusion, then, seeing the humor in hers, he smiled. “I found some ice cream in the freezer earlier, want to take it to bed and indulge ourselves?” “Sounds good to me.” She stood, sauntering past him, sliding a hand along his arm and back as she moved past him. “If you promise to lick it off of me?” “Oh darling, that is a promise I intend to keep.”

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Chapter 20 He lay in the darkness; Jessica snuggled tight up against his side while his arm held her in place, and waited for Andrea to appear. There was more she had wanted to tell him, C.J. decided, but her father hadn’t allowed her to finish. He couldn’t understand why her father wanted him out of the house, yet Andrea refused to let him leave. He knew she had asked him to save them, but he just didn’t know how. He’d solved cases of hauntings before, and some entities had even been down right stubborn and insistent on remaining, but he had managed. He got the distinct impression from the sickening feeling he felt whenever Smithers was around that he was not a lost soul looking to be saved and sent to his eternal rest. Yet from Andrea, he felt the exact opposite. She was tired; he could feel that in her, tired of living in a world she could not be a part of. If only he knew how to save her, to give her the peace she so desperately needed to set her free. He felt her presence a moment before she materialized and smiled as she appeared at the foot of the bed. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She motioned for him to follow her. “Okay, where are we going?” When he slid his arm from under Jessica, she stirred. He waited a moment before pulling his arm completely free. “I get the feeling you’d rather it was just you and I.” She nodded, turning to the door. Slipping from the bed, he realized quite quickly that he wore nothing. “Um…if you could just…” He motioned with his finger for her to turn around. “Thanks.” Feeling a tad more comfortable when she turned around, he slid from the covers and pulled on his jeans. He knew she wasn’t with the living, but that didn’t mean he needed to 109

Secrets of the Dead walk around with nothing covering his manhood. She was still, and ever would be, a child. He followed her from the room, doing himself up, wondering where she was leading him. She took him to the stairs, then floated down while he took the steps one at a time. She turned past the doorway and led him to the stairs leading to the lower floor. The warm carpet beneath his feet silenced his steps and made him as quiet as she. Stepping down the last step, she turned to take the stairs leading to the cellar area. “What are you trying to show me?” he asked barely above a whisper, though there was no real need for the silence. She simply kept walking, taking the bare wooden stairs to the cool cellar and the laundry room, in muted steps. Following her still, she led him to the far side, where the furnace and water heaters stood. He felt the iciness he attributed to Smithers as Andrea stopped, and turned. Her hair began to fly wildly in a wind that had come up suddenly to chill the air. Suddenly he felt himself being pulled backwards by hands he could not see. Her hand grabbed his, he felt her warmth invade him like a sharp slice through the cold, and pull him towards her. Feeling like an elastic band being stretched too far, he called out. “Stop, stop, Andrea, you’ll rip my arms off.” She released him and he jerked back, falling hard on the concrete floor with a thud. There was a mix of heated anger and chilled rage that swirled around him like an angry storm, and for a moment he thought he would be caught in the cross fire. “Dowling? Dowling, are you down there?” The rage stilled, then vanished, taking the warmth with it. He was never so glad to hear her voice as he was now. “Yeah, Jessica, I’m here.” But as he tried to stand, he realized he had bruised his backside. “Great.” 110

Shiela Stewart “What are you doing down there?” she called down the stairs. “Doing laundry,” he said sarcastically as he moved with caution towards the stairs. He was going to be feeling that for a while. “At three in the morning? Are you nuts?” She straightened as she watched him move up the stairs towards her, rather slowly. “What’s wrong?” “I had a confrontation with an angry old man and a determined little girl.” He rubbed his sore tailbone, hoping it was only minimally bruised. Her brow wrinkled. “Then you weren’t doing laundry?” He look at her a moment, as if to say, ‘are you serious’. “No, Jessica, I wasn’t doing laundry.” “Oh, okay. What did you say about a confrontation?” She followed him up the stairs “Andrea was trying to show me something when her father showed up. They decided to play tug-a-war with me. I convinced Andrea to release me and when she did, I fell backwards on the hard cement.” “You hurt your butt?” She snickered under her breath. He paused mid step to turn to her, frowning. “Thanks for the concern, darling.” “I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “Anything I can do for you?” The smile filled his entire face. “Want to kiss my butt?” Slanting her head, she gave him a ‘get real’ sort of look. “Yeah, just as soon as hell freezes over.” “Spoil sport. Some ice would be nice. Would you mind grabbing it for me?” “Sure.” He turned to the stairs leading to their bedroom and she stopped him with her hand. “Where are you going?” “Back to bed to rest my aching butt.” “So…you want me to get the ice…alone?” 111

Secrets of the Dead His brow lifted. “You’re a big girl Jessica; I think you can manage it.” She slanted her head, narrowing her eyes. “I can get the ice, Dowling. I just meant what if he comes back?” Biting his lip, he nodded. “Okay, what if I wait here for you?” “Promise?” “I promise.” Hesitating, she finally moved towards the hall that led to the kitchen. “You better not take off on me, Dowling.” Though it pained him, he snuck after her, watching as she darted to the fridge, quickly grabbing the ice tray. Sneaking in just behind her—he couldn’t believe she didn’t hear him—he waited for her to turn. When she finally did, she let out a loud yelp, tossing the ice cubes right against his chest. “Now look what you did? You dropped the ice.” He bit his lip to keep from laughing. “You jerk, that’s not funny. You did that on purpose.” “Did what?” he asked innocently. “Scared me.” Kneeling down, she began picking up the scattered ice cubes and placed them back in the tray. “Now, would I do such a rotten thing?” “In a heart beat, Dowling.” She stood, her eyes still narrowed. “And just for that, you can get your own bag of ice.” “Florence Nightingale you are not.” Taking the tray, he moved to the cupboard to grab a plastic zip lock bag. But he supposed he had it coming, since he had scared her. On purpose. “Then don’t scare me. Don’t let the ghosts bite, Dowling.” She taunted as she made her way from the room, and back towards the stairs. He just couldn’t resist. In spite of the fact that it caused him a great deal of pain, he snuck up behind her and screamed, “Boo.” 112

Shiela Stewart She jumped nearly a foot in the air and he nearly buckled over with laughter. “You ass.” She slugged him in the arm. “And just for that, you’re not welcome in my bed.” “That’s fine, but I hope you enjoy sleeping with icy hands groping at you.” “I’ve had yours on me, the only difference between the two of you is his aren’t slimy.” She took the steps arrogantly, then slammed the bedroom door after entering her room. “Burn.” Laughing, he turned back to the kitchen for his ice. He realized only minutes later that she had been perfectly serious about not allowing him back in her room when he tried the door and found she had jammed something up against it. The woman had guts. Smiling to himself, he slipped into another room, and crawled into bed, placing the ice on his sore bottom. He wondered how long it would be before she came running back to him, begging him to protect her. ~ With her nerves frayed, Jessie waited by the door until she heard C.J. close his. She’d been more than a little surprised that he hadn’t pressed harder for her to open the door, then decided he was a jerk for not trying harder. Opening the door carefully, she slipped from her room, grabbing all the devices he had sitting in the hallway. There was no damn way she was going to run to him every time she heard a creak or was afraid. She knew he was expecting that. At least with his detection devices, she would be aware if a presence was making himself known in her room. Setting the thermometer and the monitoring device beside her on the bed, she watched it with an eagle’s eye. She waited, and when her eyes grew droopy and too heavy to hold open, she gave in and drifted off to sleep.

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Chapter 21 He heard the shower going as he stepped from his room. It was somewhat of a surprise that she was up before him, when usually he had been the one to rouse her from sleep. It was an odd feeling he felt in his chest, knowing that he’d missed not being there to see her eyes open for the first time in the morning to gaze warmly up at him. Touching his chest, he speculated if the tightening he was feeling had anything to do with his feelings towards Jessica, and not some impending doom. In the days since they had been locked up together, he had found himself not just enjoying her company, but longing for it, counting on it. He hadn’t slept well, either. Most of the night he’d tossed and turned in the empty bed, which was odd for him, given the fact that he loved his space when he slept. And now, hearing her humming in the shower, he felt the tightening in his chest turn to something warm and liquid. It wasn’t impending doom he was feeling, but very close to it. He was in love. ~ She heard the sounds of rock music playing as she stepped from the shower and judged that it was coming from downstairs somewhere. It wasn’t head splitting loud, but loud enough to get a feel for the music but not the lyrics. Closing herself off in her room, Jessie set the thermometer and the EMF detector down on the dresser before tossing the towel she had wrapped around her wet body. There had been a few times during the night when she had wanted to scramble from her bed and run to Dowling. But she knew he would have been expecting that, so she had held her ground and had spent the night with a watchful eye. It helped having some of his stupid toys beside her to alert her of any spirits that might enter her space. She’d finally dosed off and hadn’t been woken once, so she figured Smithers had given up on her, at least for one night. 114

Shiela Stewart Slipping into the shorts she had been wearing for days now— they were beginning to feel a little lived in—she hoped they made it out of the house soon. Forgoing her bra, she slid the blue silky camisole style tank top over her head and considered doing some laundry. She really needed some clean clothes. She’d been wearing the same two outfits for five days now, and they were beginning to smell. Taking her brush, she ran it through her bob of hair, brushing it back from her face, then tipping her head upside down, gave it a good fluff with her fingers. Lifting back up, she decided it was as good as it was going to get without a blow dryer. Opening her door, she nearly jumped out of her skin at seeing C.J. on the other side. “Stop doing that.” “It wasn’t on purpose, darling.’ He laughed. “I just thought I would let you know breakfast is ready.” “I was just coming down.” She stepped past him, closing the door behind her only to have him hold it open to stick his head inside. “That’s where they went.” Stepping past her, he walked to her dresser to retrieve the thermometer and EMF detector “You know, these are expensive pieces of equipment, not toys,” he teased. “Oh, get bent, Dowling.” Holding her head high, she marched from the room and down the stairs. Grabbing his instruments, he followed after her. “Sleep well, darling?” “Perfectly. You?” She was not going to let him make fun of her. “Like a baby. Even without the protection of detectors to warn me of any incoming entities.” “Something smells good.” Ignoring his attempt to rouse her, she walked into the kitchen to pancakes heaping on a plate in the center of the table. “Wow.” “The things you find when you search. That was at the back of the cupboard as if it had been pushed there and 115

Secrets of the Dead forgotten.” He set the devices on the counter and lifted the coffee pot. “I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t have any visitors last night.” “Maybe you scared him off, Dowling.” Sitting down, she slapped five thick pancakes on her plate, then smothered them with syrup. “Thank you,” she responded to the coffee with a wide smile. “You’re welcome. So…what do you have planned for today, dear?” She slanted him a look as she swallowed what was in her mouth. “Funny.” He continued as if she hadn't responded. “I think I’ll go golfing with the boys before lunch, then after lunch, go to the office and finish up on some paper work.” “What are you doing?” “Pretending to live a normal life.” “Are you finished?” “Yeah. I didn’t care for it much, too dull. I’m going to investigate the cellar after breakfast, want to help me?” “The cellar? The one in the basement?” His eyes lifted to hers with astonishment. “No, the one in the attic.” “Ha ha. Why do you want to investigate down there? There are all those bugs hiding in the woodwork, waiting to crawl out.” “Andrea was trying to show or tell me something down there last night. I need to check it out and see if I can find out what it might have been.” He lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “Maybe she just wanted to lure you down there so her father could kill you.” His hand stopped and as he looked up at her with a dry look, she too realized how silly that sounded. “Okay, that was stupid. I know she wants your help. I guess I could come down there and help you.” “Not to worry, darling, I’ll keep you safe.” “Shove it, Dowling.” She cut into her pancakes, sending him a nasty glare. 116

Shiela Stewart Laughing, he dove into his breakfast. ~ “Why are you so skittish about being down here? There’s plenty of light and it’s no different than the rest of the house.” He asked as she stepped down on tip toes. “It’s not the light; it’s what’s hiding in the dark crevices of the room that creeps me out.” “Like spiders?” “Don’t even say that word.” She shuddered. “Maybe snakes?” “Dowling,” she warned. “Sorry. Look out, Jessica, a snake.” She jumped up and dove onto the washing machine with a screech that had him bending at the waist with laughter. “You jerk. That is not funny.” “I just can’t resist.” “Well, you had better if you know what’s good for you.” Easing off the washer, she moved a few steps when he did it again. “Spider.” He buckled over with the force of her fist to his gut, coughing as he laughed. “Next time I go lower. Now, are you finished with these childish games? Are you ready to actually do what you came down here to do?” “Yes, darling.” He opened his mouth to scare her once more and she shut him promptly with a hand to his face. “Try it and you’ll be singing soprano for the next ten years.” Closing his mouth, he decided not to press his luck. “I’m going to search by the furnace.” “Why?” “It’s where Andrea led me to before the old man interrupted her.” He tapped the wall as he moved along, and noticed a hole just behind the furnace. “Check if there’s a flashlight in the cabinet by the washer will you.” Deciding to pry it open, he stuck his finger in the hole and worked the drywall while Jessica searched for a light. 117

Secrets of the Dead “Here.” “Thanks.” Taking the flashlight, he shone it to the side of the hole and tried to get a look inside. “Is there anything over there I could use to make this hole bigger?’ “What are you thinking of doing? You do any damages here and the owners are going to fry your butt.” “I made them an agreement that if I caused any sort of destruction in attempting to rid them of their spirits, I would buy the house from them. Thanks.” He took the Philips head screw driver she held out to him, then began chipping away at the drywall. “That’s a safe offer—or it was, at least, until you started destroying the place.” “I went into an apartment last winter and ended up paying the owner six grand in damages.” There was enough room now for him to use his hands. There had been some moisture here in the past few years and it had managed to deteriorate the wall. It crumbled to his touch. “Holy shit, Dowling, what the hell did you do to the place?” “The spirit refused to leave and ended up shaking the place in hopes it would scare me off. I don’t scare easily.” He had a good chunk ripped open now, enough to get a look behind it. “There’s wood here!” “A frame, for the drywall probably.” “No, the frame is here, but behind it is a wall of boarded up wood. I need a crowbar or something to rip this open.” He stepped back, setting the flashlight at his feet. “And you think you’re just going to find one lying about in the house.” She snorted in response. “Dream on, Dowling.” She followed him up the stairs “I know I am, since I saw one just the other day in the closet upstairs.” Why there was a crowbar in the hall closet by the door was beyond him, but it was going to come in mighty useful right now. He grabbed the crowbar, noticing she was extremely close behind him. “Scared, Jessica?” 118

Shiela Stewart “Only of you, Dowling. I keep my enemies close.” “You keep your friends close, your enemies closer.” He corrected her as he moved back down to the cellar. “Can I see that crowbar a second?” she snarled. Laughing, he stepped into the cellar and moved towards the broken drywall. “I wasn’t born yesterday Jessica.” He knew what she had in mind if he handed over the crowbar and he knew it was going to end badly for him. “I’d keep back if you don’t want to get dirty.” He turned just his head to her with smile that was filled with utter deviousness. “Or bugs.” “Jerk.” But she backed away just to be safe “Have any phobias, Dowling?” “Nope.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, then continued hacking away. “Oh come on, everyone has some sort of fear.” “Losing my hair,” he finally admitted. “You do have nice hair. What do you use? Products?” “Some, mousse to keep the curls from turning into a matted wad.” He had enough open that he could start working on the wall of wood next. “Who did you inherit the curls from?” “My mother.” The wood creaked as he inserted it between the planks to pry at them. “Is she blonde, too?” “Yep.” He didn’t much care for the creaking sound, but dealt with it as he managed to pry one board loose. “And you? Who has red hair in your family?” “My dad did, so did most of his family. His was a nice auburn, before he lost it all to chemo.” “As much as I dislike my family, I can’t imagine losing them.” The board snapped in half, making him curse. “This could take all day.” Hoisting herself up, she sat on the dryer as he worked. “And then some,” he agreed, stripping out of his dampening sweaty shirt and tossing it aside. 119

Secrets of the Dead “Do you work out, Dowling?” “I run, mostly.” He tossed the board aside after finally ripping it from the wall. “Yeah, me, too, on the tread mill mostly.” “I like the feel of concrete beneath my feet and the wind on my face when I run.” He managed to break another away and tossed it with the rest. “What do you expect to find behind there?” “A fortune in gold.” He had no idea, but he had an itch at the back of his neck that was telling him there was something there. She stretched out, lying across the washer and dryer, pillowing her head with her arms. “What if there’s nothing behind there?” “Then there’s nothing behind there.” He continued to work while Jessica drifted off behind him.

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Chapter 22 Sweaty and hot, his muscles aching from the hard work, C.J. pulled the last board away and laid it on the floor with the rest. He had a nice pile going of rotting wood, but that wasn’t of interest to him. It was the rusted metal door that had been behind the wood that stirred his curiosity. “Bulls-eye.” “What?” Groggily Jessica sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What's going on?” “I’ve struck gold.” “For real?” She climbed clumsily from the washer and moved towards him. “Shit, you’ve been busy.” “You were busy sawing some logs yourself, darling.” He turned to her with a smile. “You have drool on your cheek.” She gave him an annoyed look and wiped the drool away. “What did you find?” “What's behind door number one?” He stepped aside, holding out his arms at the rusted metal door. “Bizarre. Open it.” Deflated, he put his arms down. “Party pooper.” He turned, frowned when he couldn’t find the door handle. “What’s wrong?” Grabbing the broom from the corner of the room, she pushed the debris aside. She let out a loud screech and jumped up and down as a bunch of spiders went scurrying in all directions. “What the hell?” Turning, C.J. saw her bouncing up and down as if she had ants in her pants. Then he saw the spiders. “Oh, darling, you really need to get over this fear. Look, just step on them. You’re bigger than they are. Watch.” He stomped his foot on the crawling spiders, ending their reign of terror. “All gone.” “I just hate bugs and slimy things, Open the door already.” “I would, darling, but there seems to be a problem.” 121

Secrets of the Dead “What sort of problem? You do know what a door knob looks like, don’t you, Dowling?” He turned to her with a snide look. “Yes, Jessica, I’m looking at one right now.” “You’re so damn funny. Move, let me try.” Stepping aside, he was more than willing to watch her humiliate herself. Her brow crinkled as she searched for the handle. “Um…there’s no handle.” “There isn’t? Now why didn’t I see that? Oh wait, I did.” “No, you said there was a problem. Now why would there be a door and no handle to open it?” “Could have broken off. Let me try the crowbar.” As he picked it up, ready to pry the door open, he felt the presence of evil curl in his belly. “We have company.” He turned to Jessica, taking her hand in his and pulling her closer. “You said he won’t hurt me, right? So if that’s true, then he won’t touch you, either.” She lifted her head, her chin jutting out. “Because, in order to get to you, Dowling, he’ll have to go through me. Hear that creep?” she called out to an entity she couldn’t see. “I’ve never had a woman protect me before. It’s kinda sexy.” “Keep your hormones in check, Dowling, and open that door.” “Right.” Pressing the crowbar in the slat between the door and the frame, he used all his muscles to pry the door open. “Holy hell. This sucker is really jammed tight. You might want to step back, I wouldn’t want this to fly off and catch you in the ribs.” Reluctantly Jessica backed off but kept her eyes glued to what he was doing. “Is he still here?” “Yes.” He grunted. The sound of metal being pried apart was not a happy sound. Much like nails on a chalk board, which he detested. “I think it’s giving.” 122

Shiela Stewart “Oh, my God, you are so sexy right now—just look at those sweaty, bulging biceps!” “Now who needs to keep their hormones in check? Got it.” He cheered when the door creaked open. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be. Do you think there will be bugs in there?” “Probably, but remember, the foot is mightier than the bug.” Smiling, he took her hand in his. “Here we go.” He yanked the door open, the metal hinges squeaking something awful, then snapping off. They jumped to the side as the door fell to the floor. “Something tells me that’s an old door.” He could feel the evil presence growing stronger as they stepped into the room. “Flashlight.” It was as dark as night in the room, and no windows to let any sort of light in. Reaching down, she picked up the flashlight from the floor and clicked it on. “Oh, man.” “You can say that again.” Before them in the dimly lit room was an old desk, a chair that was even older and a metal cabinet that stood from ceiling to floor with two doors kept locked by a simple padlock. “There are spider webs in here, Dowling.” “If you want to go back upstairs, that’s fine with me, just leave me the light.” He took it from her, eager to check things out. “Alone? I don’t think so. Besides, I need to stick with you to protect you, remember? I’ll just have to bear with it.” “That’s a girl.” Giving her hand a squeeze, he shone the flashlight over the entire room. “There’s an examination bed behind the door.” “What is this place?” “It looks like it might have been a doctor’s office, but from the looks of the furniture, it’s early twentieth century pieces.” His mind was busy working. “How can you tell that?” It was too dark for her to tell anything. 123

Secrets of the Dead “Grandfather has some antiques from his father that look a great deal like that desk and chair. And that examination table hasn’t been in use for many years. Grab the crowbar, will you? I want to open that cabinet.” She hustled to grab the crowbar, then hurried back to his side. “Here.” “Trade.” He handed her the flashlight as he took the crowbar. “Keep back while I try to knock this open.” “You seem awfully interested in what’s behind those doors.” “Call it intuition, but I have a feeling there is something I need to look at behind those doors. Here goes.” Lifting his arms high, he swung the bar down hard, hitting the lock. He repeated the process twice more before the old lock broke apart. “Let’s have a look-see. Hey.” He turned to her when she shifted, taking away his light. “There’s a door over by the left wall. I wonder if it would open?” Moving towards it, she tried the metal knob and frowned when it wouldn’t budge. “No go.” “Not sure if it leads anywhere; I don’t remember seeing one on the outside of the house when I walked the perimeter.” Not any longer at least, he thought. “Okay, get back here with the light please.” When she aimed it at the cabinet he pried the doors open. “Well, get a load of this.” Behind the metal doors were bottles and bottles of medicine as well as medical instruments such as a stethoscope, thermometers and jars of cotton balls and tongue depressors. There were some other devices he didn’t have a clue as to what they might be. “Those look like gynecological instruments, primitive but I think that’s what they might be.” “You would know more than I would. What's locked behind here I wonder?” Taking the crowbar’s hooked end, C.J. pried at the lock over two small doors to the right of the cabinet. When the lock gave, he swung the doors open. “Books.” Medical books by the looks of it, as well as some 124

Shiela Stewart notebooks and a thicker one with a heavy leather bound cover. “These medicine bottles are dated back to nineteen thirteen, C.J.” She held a bottle out to him to show him. “Do you know what that means?” C.J. turned to her, the heavy leather book in his arms. “That this is the office of Darius Smithers.” “Yes. But the question is, why is it still here, after all these years?” “Well, the door was jammed shut, could be that no one could open it after the fire and so it was just boarded up. Aim the flashlight here please.” She turned it to the book as C.J. opened it. “This is incredible. So this office is what Andrea wanted to show you?” “No, I think this was what she wanted to show me.” He held the book up to the light. “Darius Smithers’ personal journal.” As he said it, he felt an acidic taste build in his throat so strong it was like nothing he had ever felt before. “Jessica.” “What?” She was busy looking at the journal. “Be prepared to be my bodyguard.” As the words left his mouth, Darius Smithers appeared in the room.

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Chapter 24 Finally face to face, C.J. stared into the dark eyes of the spirit that he’d felt so often but had never seen. Smithers’ face was contorted in a deep frown, his teeth showing in his snarl beneath the curled up mustache. His light brown hair was slicked back from a round face that showed lines of age. His body was broad, with wide shoulders and long legs. And C.J. could feel the evil rippling off of him. “C.J.?” He knew she, too, could see the thing; he could feel her legs shaking as she clung to his arm for support. “Just stay with me, darling.” He stared into the spirit’s eyes, refusing to back down. The flashlight flickered in Jessica’s hand as the wind began to stir angrily in the room. “We need to get out of here, now.” Grabbing Jessica’s hand, C.J. started for the doorway. Jessica screamed as the desk slid with an earsplitting screech along the floor to block the exit. “C.J.” Her voice quivered, her hand gripped his tightly enough to make his throb. He felt the intent ripple off of Smithers, and he knew that if they didn’t get out soon, they never would. “Stick close, Jessie, I won’t let anything happen to you.” But as he attempted to climb over the desk, a gust of wind knocked them both down onto the floor. The flashlight flew out of Jessie’s hand, rolling on the hard cement floor. The thin beam of light sliced an eerie path along the floor, barely illuminating the room. The chill increased in the room enough to make their teeth chatter. “We’re going to die.” “No!” C.J. demanded, scrambling to his feet, reaching his hand out to Jessie. “And don’t you give up on me now.” Gripping his hand, she stood, their eyes meeting. He could see the determination come back into her expression 126

Shiela Stewart as she gazed at him. Standing tall, she nodded, then stiffened her chin. “You’re stuck with me, Dowling, like it or not.” A faint smile lifted his lips. He turned to Smithers, who stood by the doorway looking like a force to be reckoned with. “I won’t let you do this; I won’t let you take us. We’ll find a way out, one way or another.” The doors on the cabinets slammed closed, then opened and closed, the drawers on the desk slid out only to slam shut over and over again. And all the while, Smithers stared at C.J. with deadly intent. He was beginning to wonder if his promise to Jessie was going to be broken. He was actually beginning to fear for their lives. Then he felt it, the warmth in his chest, the familiar sensation accompanied by the arrival of Andrea. She stood between C.J. and her father, a tiny body determined to protect. He felt honored by her sentiment and thought how very strong the little girl truly was. She turned to C.J., her long hair flying in the breeze that was ravaging the tiny room. With a thrust of her hand, the journal C.J. had dropped when he and Jessie had been thrown to the floor flew open. The pages flipped wildly then finally stilled. Her eyes met C.J.’s, then went down to the book. The lights came on, brightening the shabby and aged cellar room and as C.J. knelt down to the journal, he felt the war between father and daughter building. “We need to get out of here, C.J.” Jessica pleaded, kneeling down beside him. “I think I need to read this.” “He’s going to kill us.” His eyes lifted to Andrea, then shifted to Jessie’s. “This is what I was brought here for.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Do you trust me, Jessica?” Her bottom lip quivered but she stayed strong. “With my life.” 127

Secrets of the Dead He nodded, his heart swelling, then turned to the journal and read the page that Andrea had opened for him. July 13th, 1913 I was told upon arriving home that my wife Linda had given birth to my son. I find this of great delight and long overdue. I’ve finally a son, after years of the disappointment of daughters. I found it appalling that Delia, my wife’s clod of a sister, would question my whereabouts and have the audacity to berate me for not being present during my wife’s ordeal. What I choose to do with my time is my business and none of hers. Though I am the only doctor in the community, my wife is more than capable of delivery on her own. I refuse to explain my whereabouts, even to my wife, though I suspect she knows of my infidelity. What is a man to do when his wife refuses him in her bed, constantly claiming to be tired, but to turn to someone else to relieve the tension? The pages flipped once more, stilling on the next page for C.J. to read. August 21st, 1913 I have discovered a new form of arousal for me. During my examination of Maria Conner’s vagina, I touched on a spot that had her moaning. The shock she experienced heightened my arousal and I found myself unable to control my lust. She fought me, which angered me immensely. The additional arousal I felt from her efforts was intense and as I covered her mouth to stifle her protests, I spilled myself into her with great satisfaction. “My God,” Jessica gasped, her hand covering her mouth. 128

Shiela Stewart He clenched Jessie’s hand, feeling the sickness in his gut that he was sure she was also feeling. The pages flipped once more and he could feel the anger from Smithers coat the air like fog. September 3rd, 1913 I was caught by my eldest child this day, while I was in the throws of passion with the minister’s wife Betty. I have found taking women as I please to be more to my liking than to have them come to me willingly. Andrea threatened to tell her mother; therefore I had to make certain she never would. Closing my office door, I had Betty hold her down while I made ready the chloroform. I knew no one would hear her screams as the door I had installed keeps the sound from leaving the room. While I insisted Betty watch, I severed my daughter’s tongue, then gave it to Betty to remind her of what would happen should she decide to tell of her rape. My message to both females was heard loud and clear. My wife was told the child had fallen and bitten her own tongue off. She knows best not to question me. “I think I’m going to be sick.” The cabinet doors slammed open and closed in Smithers’ fury. C.J. felt it pushing at him, creating a ball of acid in his belly that mixed with the disgust he was feeling towards the man for his atrocities. The pages flipped once more as Andrea held her father at bay. October 8th, 1913 I initiated my new nursing assistant this morning. She is a beautifully shy young thing with fine bones and a delicate nature. Her cries of protest as I tore her 129

Secrets of the Dead undergarments away only added to my pleasure, and as I thrust myself into her, I felt her body give to my size. I took great pleasure in the fact that I would not soon be forgotten. I had examined her husband only months earlier for the medical checkup all officers of the Royal North West Mounted Police must undergo before starting service. During my exam not only did I notice his lack of size in his genitals, but learned that the young man could not ejaculate. Upon further examination I have determined he is sterile. I took great pleasure in showing his wife that I was the better man. Patricia Dowling will not only be my full time assistant, but a lover I will take whenever needed. She served me well. The pages flipped one last time as Jessica clung to him and C.J. tried to keep the contents of his stomach down. December 12th, 1913 Patricia has come to me with worries of being pregnant. Of course, I preformed the test and yes, she is with child. My child. I have no doubt about this, as her husband James is sterile and Patricia is a very demure woman. I did my best to calm her, and assure her that everything would be alright. Of course, I have no intentions of taking the child or helping her care for it. It was her stupidity for becoming impregnated and I shall never claim the bastard. “Oh, my God, C.J., do you know what we’re reading?” His eyes lifted to the evil entity holding them prisoner, and his stomach rolled with the revelation. James Dowling was not his great grandfather, Darius Smithers was. 130

Shiela Stewart Electricity shot through the room in a violent spike, shattering the bulb overhead and the flashlight on the ground. And in the darkness of the room, the entity let his anger loose.

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Chapter 25 The room began to vibrate with the heat of Smithers’ anger. In the darkness they were defenseless, helpless to the items that churned in the vortex of his rage, lashing out at them. Books and bottles flew about, crashing into each other as they were flung around the room. Protecting Jessica, C.J. pulled her down, covering her with his body. He could hear glass shattering, metal scraping and doors slamming, and all he could do was curl around the woman he loved and pray they made it out of this alive. He felt the tiny hand as it took hold of his arm, and as he lifted his head to Andrea, she lit like a candle fueled by a flame. Then suddenly a vision opened up and spiked through them like white hot lightning. They could see the home as it had been that fatal day in 1913. They stood in the living room as if they were there at the time, looking towards the rosewood staircase. The walls were decorated in flocked red velvet striped wallpaper, and up the long winding staircase were elegant gold framed oil paintings and lithographs. The wooden steps were covered in deep gold and red patterned rug that led all the way to the door. Tiffany style gasoliers with their pretty prisms dancing in the glow of the fireplace light hung in abundance from the walls in the living room. Reams of lace hung in front of wide arched windows. The deep gold brocade valances were in abundance over the lace, adding color and beauty to the already strikingly large windows. The room was filled with furnishings of the Victorian era: armless chairs carved in iron crowns draped in red velvet, settees and sofas in abundance placed in a circle around the room for entertainment. At each side of the furnishings was a deep mahogany table dressed in lace, trinkets and figurines. Tall leafy palms graced the large windows, adding life to the room. 132

Shiela Stewart Fire radiated warmth from a white stone fireplace with carved lion heads on each corner. The mantel held several more trinkets as well as golden framed photos. Above the grand fireplace a picture was hung of the Smithers family, dressed in their Sunday best. The floors were in dark wood and covered in tapestry style rugs with crisscrossing patterns of gold, red, and white. C.J. and Jessica stood in awe as they stared into the past. The sudden banging on the front door startled them, making them both jump, their eyes darting to the front entrance. From the top of the stairs, a thin light lit the path as Darius Smithers stomped his way down the steps. “Mr. Dowling? Do you have any idea what time it is?” The fist connected with his chin, knocking him backward, the lantern bumping the stair railing as he fell against it. Stepping through the door, dressed in his Mounty uniform, James Dowling marched towards Smithers. “You bastard.” Darius backed up to the steps, keeping his distance from James, the lantern still in his hands burning dimly. “Get out of my house.” “She told me,” he slurred his words. “She told me what you did to her.” “I told you to leave.” Darius inched up one more step. “I’ll leave when I’ve done what I came to do.” He lunged at Smithers, falling forward when Darius backed up two more stairs. “You’re drunk, you fool. Go home and sleep it off before I call your superiors.” “You’ll have no voice to speak with when I’m through with you, Smithers.” He continued up the steps as Darius backed away. “You forced yourself on her, and for that I will kill you.” 133

Secrets of the Dead “She wanted it. You’re a poor excuse of a man and she needed someone to show her what a true gentleman can give to her.” He inched to the top of the stairs. James’ fist curled and as he threw it towards Darius’ face, Smithers kicked his leg out, hitting James in the belly. He fell against the wall, knocking one of the gasoliers down. It shattered as it connected with the stair two steps behind him, the flames licking the oil coated wood and igniting the carpet. “You fool, look what you’ve done!” His rage growing, James righted himself, his fists curling as he lunged at Smithers. They crashed to the floor, the lantern Smithers held flying from his grip to smash against the wall several feet down the hall. Oil splattered on the wooden door to the left, the flames catching and exploding, igniting the door. The two men grappled in the hallway, rolling as hands attempted to take out their opponent. Gaining control, James pinned Darius beneath him, holding him down with one hand while the other pummeled his face. To his left, flames ate the wooden door, slashing out at the walls beside it, trailing down to ignite the carpet along the hallway floor. Smoke began to billow out, coating the air. The smoke stung his eyes and coated his lungs. Coughing, James looked up and saw the hallway engulfed in flames. He stumbled back, bumping into the wall behind him. He looked down through watery eyes as the flames inched towards an unconscious Darius. Through the roar or the flames and the snapping of wood, he heard the cries of a small child. Spinning around, he saw the flames on the stairs and began to panic. He darted towards the railing, looking down to the floor below him, then to the flames gathering around him. Climbing over the railing, he let himself drop to the floor with a heavy thud. His legs giving out, he crumbled, rolling, and connected with a wall. Getting to his feet, he wiped his watery eyes with the back 134

Shiela Stewart of his arm, looking up at the second floor that was now engulfed in flames. He wiped his eyes once more, then turned towards the door, and fled. Jessica and C.J. flew back as the connection was severed between the past and the present, falling flat on the cold cement floor of the office. The journal slid across the room, coming to a stop beside C.J., and as he looked up and into Andrea’s eyes, he understood it all. “You want me to tell the truth.” She pointed to C.J., then to herself, then clasped her hands over her heart. He understood now—they were family. Grabbing the journal, he nodded to Andrea. “The truth will set you free.” Electricity snapped out as the fuse box exploded.

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Chapter 26 Jessie’s scream rang out as wiring began to snap and flames began to spike out of the walls. Andrea spun on her father, her eyes furious as she held him at bay. She turned to C.J., then sent the desk that was blocking the doorway flying to the side. Grabbing hold of Jessie’s hand, C.J. ran for the exit. Bulbs snapped, glass shattered and flames licked the walls. “I don’t want to die.” “We’re not going to die.” He could see the flames, smell the smoke as he reached the top of the stairway, and as he turned them towards the front door, he saw they wouldn’t be escaping through there. Flames shot out of the walls near the door as wiring crackled. “Back door.” Jessie tugged him now towards the living room. Glass sprayed out like rain as monitors exploded. Video equipment sizzled, sparks flying, igniting whatever was closest to it. The smoke began to fill the air, stinging their eyes. They ran through the room, the heat of the fire filling the air. “Lift your shirt over your mouth,” C.J. called out to Jessica as she began coughing. He held the journal over his but he could still feel the smoke clogging his lungs. They turned into the kitchen, running for the door. As if he had run into a brick wall, C.J. flew back, taking Jessica down with him. The air was stolen from his lungs and the room around him began to waver. Through his blurred vision, he faintly saw Smithers standing next to him. “C.J.!” Crying out, Jessica crawled towards him, grabbing him by the shoulders. He shook his head, the nausea in his gut rising, threatening to spill out. He simply couldn’t catch his breath. “Come on, come on, damn it.” Taking hold of his arm, Jessica pulled him towards the back door. Grabbing the 136

Shiela Stewart handle, she shrieked, yanking her hand back. “Shit, it’s too hot.” Hissing out the pain, she lifted her shirt, covering her hand and tried the knob again. The fresh air was like a brutal slap to the face and nearly knocked the wind from both their lungs. Sputtering, Jessica pulled them both through the door and out onto he deck and didn’t stop until they were out on the yard. “C.J.?” She coughed. “Yeah.” He coughed, hacking as the air mixed with the smoke in his lungs nearly made him choke. “Damn it.” “What?” She coughed some more, wiping her burning eyes. “The journal.” He stood, the air around him spun but he held his ground. Looking towards the house, he saw the flames lashing out through broken windows. He knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but he needed to get the journal and his evidence. He coughed as he sprinted to the house, “C.J.,” Jessie screamed after him. “C.J., no!” Pulling his shirt off, he held it over his mouth as he dove through the open door. It was dark, despite the flames, preventing him from seeing clearly. His eyes watering from the smoke, he could feel the heat lash out at him and knew the flames were close. With the shirt covering his mouth, he fought his way through the darkness toward where he had fallen, hoping the journal was near. He prayed the book hadn’t been touched. Crawling on the floor, clawing his way through the smoke, he bumped into what he thought was the table, and felt around for the book. He knew he wouldn’t be able to save his equipment or the evidence that he had accumulated, but at least he could save a family from a century of anguish. Touching the book, elated at finding it, he held it to his chest. Turning, completely disoriented, he had no idea where the exit was. The smoke was beginning to get the best of him; his lungs were burning and his eyes felt like someone 137

Secrets of the Dead had thrown salt in them. His head was filled with the sound of fire; like a roaring train it vibrated inside him. Clinging to the book, he moved about, trying to gauge where he had come in from. He couldn’t even see a sliver of light. He coughed wildly, his body growing weaker from the smoke. Dropping his head, he, gasped for air. What had he done? How was he going to save anyone if he was dead? He felt the hand as it touched his arm, though he couldn’t see the child, he knew she was there. Like a warm summer breeze, it filled him. “I…can’t,” he coughed, his lungs burning. It was then he felt the touch of other tiny hands. Lifting his face, he saw the glow that surrounded them. Cherubs, he thought, that had never been given a chance to grow. These innocent children had suffocated to death in their beds, all because of their father’s sick lust and an angry husband wanting justice. They deserved to have their peace, and he wished he could have given it to them. He felt it then, the energy they emitted, flow through him. They surrounded him, their entities shining as bright as the sun and he knew no matter what, they deserved to be set free. As Andrea stepped towards him, taking his hand in hers, the connection was made. He felt the spark of love ignite in his heart and as she smiled at him, her angelic face lit with hope. He hadn’t been able to save her from dying, but he would save her—save them all— from suffering. Surrounding him, the children guided him to the door and as he turned for one last look, they clasped hands and sunk into the smoke. “Jesus, Dowling, you scared the living shit out of me.” Grabbing him, she dragged him from the deck and down onto the grass where it was safe. “Are you okay?” In a wild coughing fit he went down on all fours and wretched up the smoke that had polluted his lungs. The 138

Shiela Stewart book he had been so urgent to grab fell beneath him on the grass. The sirens wailed in the background. “Dowling, say something.” She rubbed his back with smooth even strokes. “I’m….okay,” he lied. Sitting up, he wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to get a look at his surroundings. The first thing he saw through blurry eyes was Jessica. “Are you okay?” he coughed some more. “I’m fine, but you’re obviously not. What the hell were you thinking, going back in there to get your stuff? You could have been killed, you idiot. You scared me half to death. I thought I was going to lose you.” The tears came like a flood of rain and washed down her face. Guilty, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, darling.” Kissing her head, he heard the commotion as firemen rushed to put out the fire. Turning, he watched the flames as they ripped apart the house. Even if it turned to ash, he knew the dead inside would never rest. Not until the truth was told. ~ He had been checked over, prodded, poked and sent for X-rays on his lungs, and though they had insisted he spend the night in the hospital, he refused. Against the doctor’s wishes, he left the hospital with strict instructions on how to care for himself. The last thing he wanted was to spend the night in a stuffy hospital room with nurses bugging him all night. He and Jessica had spent an hour giving their account of what had happened to the authorities. They had spoken before the police had arrived on the scene and agreed to tell them that they had been busy working when the electricity suddenly went off with a loud snap. The flames had begun to pour out of the walls shortly after that, leaving out the part of the angry ghosts. C.J. was prepared 139

Secrets of the Dead to deal with the consequences of the fire, prepared to take the loss himself if need be. Because the paramedics had insisted on taking him in the ambulance, his truck had been left at the house. Climbing into Jessica’s car, instructing her as to where he lived, he laid his head back and let his mind clear while she drove him home. It wasn’t until he was in his house and settled on the sofa that Jessica spoke. “Can I get you anything?” “Just you.” Pulling her down beside him, he did what he had longed to do for hours now. He kissed her. “Yuck, smoke. You need a shower, and bad.” Tipping his head back, he laughed—which only started him on a coughing fit. “See, you should have stayed at the hospital. Come on.” Where are you taking me?” Allowing her to pull him to his feet, he found he had little energy to protest. “You are going to take a hot shower and while you’re doing that, I’m going to make you some hot soup. Where’s the shower?” “To your left and straight down the hall.” He smiled, stopping her before she could tug him any further. “Why don’t you skip the soup and join me in the shower?” Her eyes lifted slowly to his and he saw the shimmering of tears in her eyes. “Did we see what I think we saw? Did we really witness…” He silenced her with his mouth, despite her earlier protest. “Let’s not discuss this right now. You’re right, I need a shower, and so do you, darling, but most of all, we both need the time to gather our thoughts. Come on.” Taking her by the hand, he led her down the hall.

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Chapter 27 Though C.J. had tried desperately to coax her into a little hanky panky in the shower, she had encouraged him to think otherwise. He was in no condition to do any hanky or panky. The guy could barely stand on his own for more than five minutes. How was he expecting to go at it in the shower? She toweled off, then gladly accepted the robe he offered her in place of her smelly clothing. Though she had scrubbed herself clean—and she was awfully glad he had superb taste in hair products—she could still smell the smoke. Jessica had a feeling it was going to be that way for a long time. She doubted the memory of what she had seen would ever leave her. “Now, you get comfortable in bed while I make some soup.” “Jessica…” “Don’t argue with me, Dowling, now lie down and behave.” She knew she had the advantage as one good shove had him stumbling back into the bed. “Stay.” She ordered as if he were a dog. “Bossy woman.” C.J. grumbled, his throat sounding hoarse and sore. “That’s right.” But to show him she still cared, she kissed the top of his head before pushing it back into the fluffy pillow behind him. “I won’t be long.” Leaving him sulking in his bed, she made her way back through the house to find the kitchen. It was a nice little bungalow, and tastefully decorated, she noticed. He liked deep tones and contrasting colors. The walls were all in a deep navy as was the rug, but the sofa and chair were in a soft butter cream color. There was a tall shelf in the corner near the fireplace that held a large screen TV and a stereo. On the deep blue walls were nature pictures of the 141

Secrets of the Dead autumn during the day and at sunset. She rather liked his taste. His kitchen was just as perfectly kept as the rest of the house. The walls and cupboards were in pure white, while the counter tops and appliances were in black. The floor was covered in black and white tiles that looked as if they had just been polished. Not only did Dowling have taste, but apparently he liked his place neat as well. Rare for bachelors these days. Making herself at home, she snooped in cupboards, trying to find a pot to warm some canned soup with. She hoped he had soup because she certainly was no gourmet cook, and the best she could manage when it came to home cooking was opening a can and dumping it in a pot. “Need a hand?” She jumped a foot, banging her head on the open cupboard door, swearing like a sailor. “Oh, ouch, that had to have hurt. Are you okay?” Taking her head in his hands, he kissed the top where the door had connected. “I would be better if you stopped scaring me.” Snarling at him, she rubbed the sore spot on her head. “And what are you doing out of bed? Didn’t I tell you to stay?” “If I was a dog I might have obeyed that command, but since I am a full blooded human, I have a mind of my own. What were you looking for?” “Canned soup. You just get off on scaring me, Dowling, and you and I both know it.” “True, I enjoy scaring you, but I most certainly do not get off on it. Would you like to know what turns me on?” She backed up when he stepped towards her, holding her hand up in protest. “I will smack you. Remember my warning in the shower.” She held her fist up to prove to him she meant business. “I remember quite well.” He took her fist and kissed her knuckles. “I don’t own canned soup, darling, but I do 142

Shiela Stewart happen to have a jar of frozen, home made vegetable soup, in the freezer.” She watched him as he swaggered towards the fridge, opening the freezer door to retrieve the soup. He wore only a pair of green silk pajama pants, his hair was still damp from the shower and his body looked bronzed and oh so tempting. She felt the tears well up in her eyes as the dam burst. Slumping to the nearest chair, she dropped her head on the table and wept. “Jess, oh honey, what’s wrong? Oh, now that that was the most ridiculous thing to ask. You went through hell only hours earlier, of course you would be upset. Its okay baby, it’s all okay now.” He stroked her head, kissing her neck. “I thought you weren’t going to come out of that house alive. I thought you were going to die.” She lifted her head, tears streaming down her face. “You dumbass, what the hell is wrong with you?” She slugged his arm good and hard, making him wince. “Is your life so worthless that you would risk it for some stupid equipment? That you would risk it for a journal? I could kill you for doing that to me.” She sobbed, anger waging a war with fear. Rubbing his arm, he frowned. “You know I would only come back to haunt you.” “This isn’t a joke, Dowling. I thought I had lost you, and just when I was getting used to having you around. Damn it.” Dropping her head on the table, she wept harder. He lifted her head to look her in the eyes. “I wasn’t joking, darling, but that’s a whole different story. I had valuable proof on those instruments that would validate my claims of hauntings. Proof that the dead do come back and do live amongst us. Now I have nothing and I am back to square one, but I wasn’t risking my life for that as much as for the five people that died innocently in that house. I promised I would right a wrong and I needed that book to do it.” 143

Secrets of the Dead “And how the hell were you going to right that wrong if you were dead, Dowling? Did you think of that?” “Yes, I did actually, when I couldn’t find my way back out. I thought I knew where the door was, but there was so much smoke and it was filling my lungs and blurring my eyes, and for a brief moment I thought I was going to die. Then Andrea came to me, and she brought her siblings.” “You saw the rest of the children?” She sniffled. “I did. They took hold of me, Jess. I’ve never felt anything like it before in my life…and any description I try to give you would pale in comparison. They held me up, filled me with energy and love and got me out of the house safely. I knew then that I had done the right thing by going in for the book. I feel those children, feel their death, and it’s all because of the man I thought was my great grandfather.” “You are not to blame for something someone else did long before you were born, C.J.” She stroked his face, seeing the pain in his eyes and feeling it reflect back into her. “No, I wasn’t there when it happened, and I wasn’t the one that walked away while an innocent family perished, but he was my family and because of that, I do feel responsible.” He stood. “A Dowling was responsible for their deaths, and it will be a Dowling that puts them at peace, even if I’m not a blood Dowling.” “How do you feel about that? In the rush of being looked at by the paramedics, then the doctors and the police, I never got a chance to ask how you were feeling about what you had learned. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.” “I don’t know exactly how to feel in regards to my true lineage, but I know that the man that conceived my grandfather was a sick bastard that preyed on innocent women for fun. Did he deserve to die for that…part of me wants to say yes, but not like that. He should have been tried and convicted for what he did.” Unscrewing the cap 144

Shiela Stewart from the jar, he set it in the microwave to defrost then pulled out a pot for the soup. “His family was innocent, and they are the reason I am going to set it all straight. James Dowling has to pay for what he did.” “How are you going to make a dead man pay for his crimes?” She watched him work, understanding that he needed to keep busy. “By telling the story.” He turned to her, his face determined. “In all its gory details.” “What about your family? What will that do to them?” He chewed his lip a moment in thought. “I guess it’s time the Dowling’s paid for the crimes of the past.” “But none of you did anything; you all weren’t responsible for one man’s anger. You’re all innocent.” “And so were five people. They’ve suffered long enough.” He pulled the soup from the microwave and dumped the semi frozen broth and vegetables into the pot to heat. “What are you going to say to your grandfather? Do you think he knows?’ He stirred the soup, wondering. “I have no idea. I’ve heard stories that his father was a drunk and abusive, but grandfather rarely speaks about him. The most he’s ever said is that his death is the reason his bookstores were possible. Having died in the line of duty, my grandfather was awarded benefits. He used that money to start his very first bookstore, and they progressed from there.” “That poor man.” “Excuse me? Are you referring to my grandfather?” “Yes.” “Do explain Jessica, this I have to hear.” Scooping soup into two glass bowls, C.J. set them on the table, then took a seat across from her. “Well, consider it. He was an innocent child, his mother was raped by the man she worked for, and died before he ever got to know her—how did she die?” “Childbirth.” 145

Secrets of the Dead “Even worse. Now he has to grow up without a mother, knowing she died giving him life, and he has to live with a father who drinks and is violent, then loses him at a young age. He’s had a lot to deal with in his lifetime.” “I guess you see it differently than I do. How’s the soup?” By the sound of his voice, she could tell he was annoyed. “Great. You never really told me why the two of you were at odds before he disowned you.” “When I was young, I came forward and told my parents that I communicated with the dead. They brushed it off as a child with a vivid imagination. When I was ten, I told my grandfather that a man had died in his house and was still there waiting for the killer to be brought to justice. He laughed at me, told me I was being ridiculous. I, being a ten year old boy, began taking a temper tantrum, freaking out trying to get him to believe me. He took me over his knee and gave me a good walloping.” “Oh, my God, he spanked you? What did your parents say to that?” “By the time they got there, I was locked in my grandfather’s guest room, hysterical. He convinced my parents I was delusional and a danger and insisted they lock me up. I was promptly taken to the nearest hospital and tied to a bed in the mental ward.” “My God, C.J.” She laid her hand over his, feeling sick at the thought. “Didn’t you tell your parents what he had done to you?” “My parents didn’t believe me, they believed him. For five years I had been telling them I saw people that weren’t there, what would you think? I was under constant therapy for over three years before I convinced the doctors I was sane. I kept the dead to myself from that day on.” “I am so sorry.” Lifting his hand, she laid it against her cheek. “I understand now why you chose not to use his name, and why you dislike him.” “Still pity him?’ 146

Shiela Stewart “I pity you.” She lifted, cupping his face in her hands. “For having to endure what you have, for no one believing you. I believe you, Dowling, I believe there are spirits and I believe you can communicate with them.” “Darling, you couldn’t have said anything more touching.” I love you came to mind, but she held it tight to herself. It was too soon to tell him that just yet.

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Chapter 28 They slept fretfully in each others arms, dreams of fire lashing out at them, the face of evil preventing them from leaving. Jessica dreamt of C.J. entering the burning house, and the house swallowing him up, laughing at her as he died inside. And when she woke in a sweat, C.J. was there to comfort her. He took her in his arms, stroked her back through the t-shirt he had lent her and kissed her nightmares away. She needed to feel him, to know he was safe, to know he was alive. Using her hands, she stroked his face, sliding her fingers over his chin and down his chest. When she reached his belly, with its soft downy blonde hair tickling her hand, his stomach quivered. Taking his mouth, she slid her hand beneath his pajama bottoms to stroke him to arousal. He moaned against her lips and she felt it sink into her heart. When he attempted to pull the shirt over her head, she refused to let him go and continued to stroke him while her mouth devoured his lips, his face, his ears and anything else she could manage to taste. She never wanted to forget how he tasted, or how he felt. When his breathing grew more rapid and his hips moving up and down faster, she knew he was close to his climax. Releasing him, she climbed on top and guided him inside. As she sunk down over him, she arched her back, and began to move in a slow erotic rhythm. She felt him pulsing as he released himself inside of her. Tossing the shirt over her head, she picked up the pace, riding him with quick sharp thrusts, and when she felt her own orgasm approaching, she fell down over him and let it flow. They collapsed in each others arms and slept soundly until the sun woke them several hours later. “What are your plans for today, Dowling?” 148

Shiela Stewart “I’m going to see my family. You?” “I had an epiphany last night.” She ran a glass of cold water for herself while C.J. whipped a bowl of eggs. “I believe they’re called orgasms, darling,” he teased. “Ha ha, Anyway, I’ve decided after I hand in my evaluation of the house—not that it does any good now that it’s a charred ruin, I am going to hand in my resignation, take my vacation pay and enroll in university and upgrade my education. I want to be a journalist.” “Wow, that was a damn good epiphany. And here I suspected you were faking it.” “Aren’t we the funny guy today. Good to see you’re back to your old self.” “I had a pretty damn good epiphany last night as well.” With a teasing wink, he kissed the top of her head, then poured the eggs into the hot skittle. “You know, that’s the one thing that drives me nuts about you.” “There’s only one thing about me that drives you nuts? Funny, you looked to be pretty insane as you were riding me last night.” “I just can’t win with you, can I?” “Best not to try. Eggs are nearly done, why don’t you start the toast.” “You want me to cook?” “No, I want you to put some bread in the toaster and press the lever.” “I burn toast.” “It’s an automatic process, darling.” “Doesn’t matter, I’ll burn it. Didn’t you notice the entire time we were locked in that house that I never once cooked anything?” He tilted his head in thought. “You made sandwiches and salad the first day.” “Yes, because it didn’t involve cooking. I burn toast, Dowling, get used to it.” 149

Secrets of the Dead He could get used to it, he thought to himself as he put the bread in the toaster. He could get used to it just fine. ~ His palms were clammy and his stomach felt as if there was a dance troop practicing pirouettes inside. He lit a cigarette, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts, gather his strength. As he inhaled, his throat closed up and his lungs shouted out in protest. Knowing he was beat—temporarily—he put the cigarette out in the ashtray and climbed from his cool air-conditioned truck. Enough stalling, it was time to face the past. He stood before the tall white two story home where he’d been raised, wondering how different his family’s life might have been if his grandfather had been raised a Smithers. Had his great-grandfather not murdered the entire family, that is, he thought bitterly to himself. Shaking himself loose of his thoughts, C.J. opened the door to his parents’ home, knowing that after today, after what he told his family, he might never be welcomed here again. “Hello, Millie.” She turned to him with a smile on her chubby face, her eyes lighting up at seeing him. Millie had been employed as the family maid for as many years as he had been alive, and she had always treated him special. Taking her by the shoulders he planted a loud smooch to her cheek. He knew how much she adored his loud sloppy kisses. “C.J., you scamp.” She hugged him with heavy arms, then pulled back and frowned at him. “Those cigarettes you inhale will be the death of you someday, my boy.” “Probably, but we all gotta go sometime.” He didn’t bother to tell her it was probably smoke from a house fire still lingering on him and not a cigarette. “Are my parents in?” “They’re in the sun room enjoying brunch with your grandfather.” “Wonderful. Coffee?” 150

Shiela Stewart “Where it always is. Help yourself.” She kissed his cheek before leaving him to attend to her chores. Maybe he should go for something with more of a kick to it, something to dull his senses before he had to face the firing squad. He poured himself a tall cup of coffee instead, and made his way to the sun room. “C.J., how lovely to see you, dear. Have you eaten breakfast?” Caroline Dowling, an elegant lady with a soft delicate face, deep set blue eyes and hair as golden as the sun, took her son in her arms and kissed his cheeks. Setting his leather shoulder case on the floor, he gave his mother a long look. “I’ve eaten, mom. You’re looking good, is that a new dress?” She gave the soft pink sundress with its cap sleeves and layered skirt a brush with her hand, smiling proudly. “You always notice. Sit; tell us what you’ve been up too lately. You don’t come around often enough.” “I’ve been busy. Dad.” He shook his father’s hand as he stood to greet his son. Daniel Dowling was a tall man, like his father, but not as broad in the shoulders or in the waist. His brown hair was thinning at the top, but he refused to comb it over like so many his age did to hide their impending baldness. “Son, you sound hoarse, you’re not catching something I hope?” “No, smoke inhalation. Grandfather.” With a casual tip of the head, C.J. took a seat by his mother in a white whicker chair with soft golden seat cushions. There had been distance between he and his grandfather before, but now, knowing the truth about his ancestry, C.J. wasn’t too sure how to approach him. Having seen Smithers, C.J. searched his grandfather for resemblances. The eyes were the same deep shade of brown, the hair line was similar, but it was the stern glower on his face that showed his true lineage. Darius Smithers had nearly the same look on his face when he’d looked at C.J. 151

Secrets of the Dead Lifting the white bone china coffee cup in his elegant hand, Carlton senior tipped his head in response but did not acknowledge his grandson other than that. “What do you mean about smoke inhalation son?” Caroline laid her thin boned hand over her sons, her face worried. “I was in a house fire last night. I’m okay, as you can see, which brings me to why I came by this morning.” He gave his mother’s hand a squeeze before turning to his grandfather. “Does the name Darius Smithers ring a bell with you?” The delicate china cup slipped from his fingers to crash on the glass patio table.

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Chapter 29 “Dear Lord, Father, are you alright?” Instantly on her feet, Caroline rushed to her father in law’s aid, taking his hands in hers to check for any shards that might have speared his hand. “I’m fine, Caroline, I’m fine.” He repeated more sternly when she continued to fuss over him. “Give us a moment alone.” “Carol, stop fussing. Do you need a doctor, Father? Are you feeling alright?” Daniel asked, taking his wife’s hand before she scooped up the broken china. “I said I was fine, now leave us be.” C.J. watched as his parents left the sun room, both casting glimpses behind them with worry on their faces. “You’ve still got it, old man. When you say jump, he jumps.” Dark brown eyes, wrinkled with age, turned to C.J. with contempt. “Where have you learnt that name?” “Darius Smithers? I happened to be in the house he had built for his family in the early nineteen hundreds. Maybe you know of it? It’s the tall white house on Barclay Street, or was, at least.” He saw recognition light in his grandfather’s eyes. “It’s been rebuilt over the years, as the top floor of the original structure suffered extensive fire damage when the Smithers family was killed in 1913. Maybe you heard about it. Six people succumbed to the fire that night, four of them innocent children.” “Are you going somewhere with this, young man, or are you just enjoying the sound of your own voice?” Pushing his coffee cup aside, C.J. leaned forward as he spoke. “It’s fascinating really. I was on assignment at that house this past week, and I learned a great deal about the original owners. Darius Smithers for one. He was a doctor, had a small practice inside his home in the cellar. He was the local doctor and tended to most of the town, especially the women. He liked the women.” 153

Secrets of the Dead “I’m growing tired of this, young man.” Pushing himself up, Carlton stood, ready to leave. “Did you know your mother was his assistant? I’m sure great grandfather must have mentioned it? Or maybe not?” He was being cruel, he knew that, but part of him wanted to be cruel, or at least, as cruel as his grandfather had been to him once. Carlton took his seat once more, his hands shaky. “How did you find that out?” “I learned a great deal while I was staying there.” Reaching down for his bag, C.J. opened it and pulled out the journal, setting it down on the table. “For instance, your father’s medical condition.” He saw his grandfather swallow hard as he glanced down at the book. “This book holds a great deal of information. Most of it repulses me, like the fact that Smithers enjoyed raping women.” Carlton’s eyes lifted suddenly, his face turning white, his hands shaking as they rested on the table near the broken cup. He couldn’t do it, as angry at his grandfather as he was, he couldn’t sit by and torment him to the point of making him sick. He was too kind of a human being for that “Do you need some water, grandfather? Are you alright?” “I think some water would be nice, thank you.” Taking the dark blue silk handkerchief from the breast pocket of his navy suit jacket, he mopped up his damp face while C.J. poured him a glass of water. “Thank you.” C.J. waited while he drank from the glass, composing himself, feeling like a complete heel for what he was doing. “I shouldn’t have come here to do this. You’re not well, I should—” “Tell me what you know, no more cryptic dialogue.” “Darius Smithers is your true father, not James Dowling.” Dabbing at his face once more, Carlton nodded. “You came about this information from that book?” 154

Shiela Stewart “Mostly, yes. Are you sure you’re alright?” “I’m fine.” C.J. could see otherwise. His grandfather wasn’t looking so good right now. Maybe he should have gone about this in a different manner. No maybes, you idiot, you should have. “May I see it?” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.” C.J. put his hands over the book. “If there are documents about my parents in that book, then I have every right to see it. Now hand it over.” Reluctantly, C.J. slid the book towards his grandfather. Pushing himself from the table, he gave the old man a few moments to look over the book in private. It was a hot day; once again, though summer was drawing to a close, the heat wasn’t ready to give up just yet. C.J. looked out over the perfectly tended lawns and the lush gardens draped in bountiful colors. He’d grown up here, running rampant over the lush grass, but now, knowing what he knew, everything seemed so foreign to him. He heard the book slam shut and turned to see his grandfather, his face contorted as he glared down at his hands. “Grandfather?” “He didn’t talk much about my mother, unless he was drunk—which was a good deal of the time. Still, he didn’t talk much about her, only that he missed her and that she never should have died. If it hadn’t been for me, she wouldn’t have.” “You weren’t to blame, Grandfather.” His eyes lifted, red and teary. “She was a sweet woman, he said, until Smithers soiled her. He couldn’t stand to touch her, much less sleep with her after he found out. And when I was born, and she passed on, he attempted to pawn me off on relatives. I spent a good deal of my infancy with my grandparents, but when they grew too old to tend to me, I was placed back in his care.” 155

Secrets of the Dead “I didn’t mean for this to upset you.” His eyes lifted to C.J. with a hint of a smile. “Oh yes, my boy, you did, and it is justified.” He lifted the glass, taking a slow sip before continuing. “I swore I would never treat my children as my father treated me. Though I raised your father with a stern voice, I never laid a hand on him. But you, now you were my downfall. Walk with me, I need some fresh air.” Using his cane, Carlton got to his feet. C.J. followed after him, his hands in his pockets, feeling sheepish. “I was ten when I learned the truth. It was a cold winter’s night and my father had just returned home from a long shift. He was drunk when he staggered through the door, which wasn’t unusual for him. He tended to keep a bottle in his car beneath the seat. It was after midnight when he came home, and as usual, I was asleep on the sofa. I hated being alone at night and the sofa was my safety net. But I digress.” He hobbled slowly, taking the path along the gardens. “A woman had been found brutally raped on the highway, near death. It stirred memories in him he hadn’t ever dealt with, and he unloaded them on me. He’d come home late from work and had found my mother sobbing in their bed. When he questioned her, she let it all out, told him she had been raped and was still being raped by her employer. Smithers. He was enraged, ready to have Smithers hung for what he’d done to his precious Trisha. Then she told him she was pregnant with Darius Smithers’ child. My father left her, swearing revenge on the man for what he had done to his precious wife. Let’s sit a moment.” C.J. waited until his grandfather took a seat on the iron bench before sitting himself. “When he arrived at the house, it was in flames. He tried to save them, but—” “What? No, no that’s not what happened,” C.J. blurted out. 156

Shiela Stewart “Of course it is.” “No, James Dowling is responsible for the fire, for their deaths.” “That’s ludicrous, how dare you insinuate—” “I was there, I saw what he did.” C.J. stood now, expressing his disbelief with his hands. “He showed up at the house, drunk and vowing revenge. He fought with Smithers at the top of the stairs, knocking over the lantern, starting the fire. Instead of trying to help them, he jumped from the top railing and ran from the house. He killed six people in cold blood.” Carlton stood, his face rippling with shock. “How do you—oh…” Seeing his face turn deathly white, his hand clutching his chest, C.J. rushed to his grandfather, catching him as his legs gave out. “Grandfather!” Laying him on the warm grass, C.J. felt for a pulse. “Grandfather, hang on.” Pulling his cell phone from his shirt pocket, C.J. dialed 911. What had he done?

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Chapter 30 Frantic to get to the hospital on time, C.J. drove his parents, explaining as best he could on the way as to what had happened. There was a great deal of yelling from his father, and tears from his mother. But the consensus from both of them was shame for a son who would stoop so low as to lie to his grandfather to get even for something that had happened ages ago. He was in no mood to argue his truth, and let them berate him for what he had done. He had, after all, caused his grandfather’s heart attack. They arrived at the hospital only moments after the ambulance and were escorted to the lounge to wait for a report on his condition. C.J. needed a cigarette badly, and stepped outside to light one up. His father followed him. “It’s appalling, the lack of concern you show for your grandfather, out here smoking while he’s in there suffering.” C.J.’s eyes met his fathers with a great deal of rage. He was tired of the lack of trust and belief from his family and was feeling down right raw at the moment. “I needed to calm down, to think,” he snapped out. “Yes, now you decide to think. Where was your brain, son, when you were bullying him earlier?” “I wasn’t bullying him,” C.J. replied, smoke trailing from his lips. “That’s precisely what you did.” “You don’t know shit, Dad, you weren’t there.” He blew up, anger filling his usually calm face. “Don’t you raise your voice to me, young man.” Daniel zeroed in on his son, his eyes just as fierce as C.J.’s. “Then back off of me, Dad.” He felt the tingle at the back of his neck and a warm ache in his belly. “Oh, God.” “This is not the time or the place for an argument. Now, you will get back in there before—” “It’s too late.” 158

Shiela Stewart “Yes.” “He’s gone.” C.J. met his father’s eyes, pain filling his chest and his gut. “He’s gone.” “What are you talking about?” An unexpected voice addressed C.J., “He always was a tad daft.” “Grandfather!” Looking just over his father’s left shoulder, he saw the old man standing there, dressed in his blue suit and tie, looking as alive as ever. Only C.J. knew better. “I’m sorry.” “I don’t know what’s suddenly gotten into you son. Come on, we need to get back in there.” “Grandfather’s dead. He just died, I’m sorry.” His eyes met his fathers, then his grandfathers. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “Well, damn, you really can see me. Don’t I feel like an ass now.” Carlton frowned. “What are you talking about, C.J.? I think maybe you should continue seeing your therapist. I believe you are having a relapse.” “Oh, shut up, Daniel…he really can be an ass at times.” C.J. chuckled, he simply couldn’t help it. For the first time in his life, he had to agree with his grandfather. “You find that funny?” Daniel asked, appalled, obviously unaware of the conversation between his son and his father. “He can’t see me, can he?” Carlton stepped in front of his son, waving his hands in front of his face. “No, he can’t.” C.J. snickered. He’d never seen his grandfather this lively. And it saddened him that it took his death to bring out his life. “Well, this could be fun.” Attempting to poke his son’s face, Carlton lifted his hand but instead of it connecting with Daniel’s face, it went right through. “Damn it.” 159

Secrets of the Dead “You won’t have that ability for a while yet. Grandfather, I am truly sorry for what I did.” Carlton turned to his grandson, his lips pursed. “Oh, stop apologizing—oh hell, hell what is that?” He jerked suddenly, his face confused. “What the hell...” “You’re fading. They’re trying to bring you back.” “Oh, hell…” He trailed off as he faded away. “Carlton James, have you lost your mind completely. I am taking you right to—” “Grandfather. Come on, we’re not too late.” Dropping his cigarette, C.J. rushed to the doors and into the hospital, his father right on his heels. They entered the doorway to the waiting room just as the doctor came down the hall. “How is he?” “We lost him, briefly, but we were able to bring him back. I don’t know how long we’ll have him. Now might be a good time to say your good-byes.” “Oh, Lord,” Caroline gasped, hands covering her mouth. Putting his arm around his wife, Daniel nodded at the doctor. “Which room is he in?” They were led down the hallway to the intensive care unit. It was a large room, filled with smaller rooms surrounding a nurse’s station that sat directly in the center. Following the doctor, they entered the first room to their right. Carlton lay in a bed, draped in a white cotton blanket, his head raised, tubes coming from his arms, wires attached to his chest. Machines beeped with rhythm that indicated his vitals were still detectable. Looking at him now, C.J. saw just how old and frail he really was. “I can’t say how much time he has, but he is weak. You can stay for fifteen minutes, then take a break.” “Thank you, Doctor McAllister.” Taking his father’s hand as the doctor left the room, Daniel sat at his bedside. “Father, I’m here.” His eyes met his wife’s as she took Carlton’s other hand. 160

Shiela Stewart “C.J.,” Carlton mumbled, his eyes still closed. “I’m here, Grandfather.” Moving closer to the bed, C.J. stood awkwardly looking down at his dieing grandfather. “Set them free.” “You should rest father, save your strength.” His eyes opened, blurry, but he focused them on his grandson. “They’ve suffered long enough. Set them free.” “I will, I promise I will.” “What are the two of you talking about?” Daniel asked, confused. “What my father did was atrocious, what Smithers did was appalling, but the innocent shouldn’t have had to pay.” “You were innocent as well.” And Jessica had been so right. His grandfather had suffered. His eyes smiled as he looked up at his grandson. “Sins of the fathers. I was harsh with you, I ask you now, for your forgiveness.” “You’re forgiven, Grandfather, if you’ll forgive me as well?” He held his hand out to C.J., taking it in a firm grip. “Don’t let anyone stand in your way boy. You have a remarkable gift, use it.” “I will.” He squeezed his grandfather’s hand lovingly, tears stinging his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t realized it before, but he had always wanted his grandfather’s approval. “Daniel.” “I’m here, Father.” “Do yourself a favor.” “What is that, Father?” “Take that stick out of your ass and live a little.” He caught the snort from C.J. and smiled. “Now get out of here so I can rest. Oh, and Daniel…” “Yes Father?” “Your son hasn’t had a relapse, as you accused him of just moments ago, outside in the ambulance bay. He was 161

Secrets of the Dead talking with me. I died for a moment and as fate would have it, I was sent to my grandson.” His eyes met C.J.’s with warmth. “Now get the hell out of here so I can sleep.” They left the room, C.J. smiling, Daniel and Caroline completely confused. “How did he know what we were talking about outside?” Swinging his arm over his father’s shoulder, C.J. began to explain.

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Chapter 31 His spirits chipper, C.J. entered Jessica’s apartment complex, pressing the number to her floor, then waited for the elevator. He’d left his parents at the hospital, as they had wanted, despite his grandfather’s insistence that they leave. He’d always known the old guy was tough, he was demonstrating just how tough he was now by proving the doctors wrong and coming back from his heart attack and momentary death. Carlton James Dowling Senior didn’t have any plans of giving up life just yet. They had talked at length when Grandfather had felt up to the conversation, and he had told C.J. that he knew what had actually happened, but had hoped to keep it a secret. James Dowling bore the guilt of killing six people until the day he had died, and it had driven him nearly insane. He hadn’t treated the child that was not his kindly, and Carlton paid dearly for something he’d had no control over. C.J. understood now why his grandfather was such a cold man; from childhood on, he had never been given the beauty of love. They had discussed C.J.’s intentions, and his grandfather had backed him one hundred percent in what he had planned on doing to right the wrong that had been done a century ago. C.J. was going to write a tell-all book, and finally break the silence of the past. The Dowlings, though not by blood, were going to stand up for the innocents that had perished at the hands of a drunken man bent on revenge. And in turn the world was going to learn Darius Smithers’ dirty little secrets. He had explained what he and Jessica had seen and who had helped them to find the truth. His grandfather had listened, and when C.J. had finished his story, he had taken C.J.’s hand in his, and apologized once more for never believing in him and his ability. It felt good to make amends, and C.J. left the hospital knowing that everything would be alright. 163

Secrets of the Dead Now there was just one more thing he had to do. If he had learned anything from his grandfather, it was that time was short. Make the best of what you have for as long as you have it, his grandfather had said to him, and never give up on a dream. Life was too short; he had learned that the day before when he had nearly succumbed to the fire. He was approaching thirty, it was time he settled down and made some serious choices in his life. And one of those choices was Jessica Coltrane. Arriving at her door, C.J. shifted his shirt, smoothed back his hair and tucked the flowers behind his back. His heart was hammering so hard beneath his chest he thought he might faint. Lifting a shaky hand, he knocked. He was about to open his heart like never before and it was scaring the hell out of him. When the door flew open and Jessica stood before him, wearing a light cream sundress with tiny straps holding up a fitted bodice, and a skirt that barely came to her mid thighs, he lost all thought. “Hey there. Are those for—whoa!” Her breath caught as he scooped her up in his arms, kicking the door shut behind him. “Dowling, what…” Her words were lost as his mouth covered hers in a frantic yet incredibly passionate kiss. “Bed,” he managed, pulling his lips from hers to nibble on her ear and her neck. “To your left. What’s gotten into you?” She giggled as he darted with her in his arms, to her bedroom. “You, you’ve gotten into me, from head to toe, in my blood and in my mind. God, you look hot.” Setting her down on the floor, he took her mouth once more, holding her tightly in his arms. He’d never seen her in such a feminine dress before, and it was incredibly arousing. But having her naked was even more so. Yanking the dress down past her breasts to her waist, he took a moment to suckle on her round, perky nipples. Using his hands, he pushed the dress down until it 164

Shiela Stewart fell at her feet. Stepping back, he took one look at her, naked but for the tiny excuse of white silk panties she wore. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Pulling the shirt over his head, he tossed it aside as he stalked ever so slowly towards her. “I am going to eat you alive.” “Sweet God, yes.” Her eyes shifted to his hands as he undid his jeans and drew them past his thin waist. He didn’t understand it, didn’t want to even bother trying to understand it, but she brought the animal out in him. He felt ravenous, as if he’d been starved of her a lifetime. Stepping out of his jeans, he moved towards her like a tiger stalking his prey. When she lunged at him, jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, he thought he might actually lose his mind. Spinning her, he fell with her beneath him onto the bed, then quickly tore her underwear aside, ripping the fabric to gain access to the heat he felt emanating from her. She was moist and ready and as he plunged, she arched her back and cried out with her pleasure. He pumped himself into her, feeling her body pulsate, sucking him in with each contraction. It didn’t shock him at all when she pushed him aside, then climbed on top to have her way with him. She didn’t lower herself easily but fell down over him, engulfing him and nearly making his eyes cross. With both hands free, he cupped her breasts, playing with her nipples while she rode him like a woman possessed. She was wild, and he loved it. Her body twitched around him, stirring his to respond. And when she arched back, he sat up with her and took full advantage of the situation and suckled on each erect nipple until he felt her body shaking once more. Lifting her, he pressed her down onto the bed, grabbed her hands and held then above her head. As their eyes connected, he plunged as deep as he could and let himself go. 165

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Chapter 32 She could feel him twitching inside of her. It was the most incredible feeling she had ever felt. His head resting on her breasts, she held him against her, feeling pretty damn content. “Hi.” Laughing, he lifted his head and kissed her nose. “Hi.” “Were those flowers for me?” “Flowers? Oh, yes, yes they were.” “I think they were pretty.” She stroked his curly hair, feeling his heart beat against hers. “Pink passion star gazer lilies. I hear they’re all the rage now.” “Yeah?” He was gorgeous, and she was in love with him, and her heart was bursting with it. “Yeah.” “I love you,” they said in unison. “What did you say?” they asked at once, then both laughed at the silliness of the situation. “You first.” C.J. offered, stroking her hair from her face. “Chicken. I love you. Oh, wow.” She blew out a breath, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I know I’m good, darling,” he teased her, nipping at her nose. She rolled her eyes at him. “Ha ha. Your turn.” “For what?” Her eyes narrowed. “To tell me you love me.” “Ohhhh…” He said it slowly, deliberately drawing it out. “Well,” “Well what?” “I swear, Dowling, if you don’t—” He silenced her mouth with his lips and when he pulled away, he smiled as he spoke. “I love you, Jessica.” 166

Shiela Stewart “It’s Jessie, Dowling, for the last time.” He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her pouting mouth. “You will always be Jessica to me. I’m starved, what do you have in the house to eat?” “Nothing you would want to eat. Let’s order in and you can tell me how it went with your family.” Pushing him off of her, she grabbed a black oriental style robe and slipped into it. “I sent my grandfather to the hospital with a heart attack which killed him.” “What?” She turned to him, her mouth open, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God, C.J., I am so sorry.” “He’s alive, they brought him back and he’s doing fine now.” He was quick, which was a good thing or the book she pulled from her dresser might have hit him in the head. “Hey!” “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t tell a person someone died, then casually slip in that they survived after the person’s freaked out. Jerk.” “I wasn’t finished speaking when you interrupted.” “I did not interrupt you—ah, you are infuriating. I take it back; I’m not in love with you.” Sliding from the bed, he walked to her, completely naked, taking her hands in his. “You can’t take it back once it’s been said. You love me, Jessica, and you know it.” She jerked her hands away, snarling at him. “It’s true what they say, love is stupid.” “Love is blind, darling, not stupid,” he corrected smartly. “Fine, then you’re the stupid one. Order your own food, I’m taking a shower.” Laughing, C.J. picked up the phone on the nightstand. “I’m writing a tell-all book about the fire and how it came about, including Smithers’ dirty secrets.” He called out to her as he searched for a phone book. 167

Secrets of the Dead “Holy shit, Dowling, what’s your family think of that?” Stripping from the robe, she stepped into the shower. “I have Grandfather’s approval. We’ve made amends and when the book comes out, he’s showcasing it in his store. Where’s your phone book?” “Living room, by the phone.” She called out above the running water. “That’s wonderful. Now, explain about the heart attack?” Finding the telephone stand and the telephone on it, he saw the small phone book and picked it up, making his way towards the washroom. “I’ll give you the condensed version,” he said as he entered the washroom, steam lifting to the ceiling. “I told him I knew about Darius Smithers being his natural father, showed him the journal, we talked, we walked, he began telling me what his father had told him. He didn’t have an easy time growing up,” C.J. said on a sigh. “He learned at an early age what had happened and his father punished him for it. He began to tell me about the fire, how his father had shown up as the fire was already engulfing the house and I set him straight on the truth. That was when he had the heart attack.” She rinsed the shampoo from her hair. “But he’s alright now?” “Yeah, the old guy is too stubborn to give up.” He smiled. “He had it hard as a child, and I think some of that bitterness is the reason why he’s backing me on the book.” “Wow, that’s a big step for him.” She shut the water of, pushed the shower curtain back and took the towel he held out to her. “So, you’re writing a book?” “Yep, looks like I am.” “Good for you.” She kissed him, her mouth damp from the shower. “I quit my job today.” “Just like that?” Grabbing another towel from the rack, he began drying her hair 168

Shiela Stewart “It was exciting, you would have been proud of me.” She certainly was proud of herself. “I went to him to tell him that the house he had sent me to was indeed haunted, and he laughed in my face.” “Typical.” Placing the towel back on the rack, he grabbed the brush and ran it through her hair. “Oh I know, I was that person a week ago, so I tried to reason with him.” “That rarely works.” “Yeah, so I told him I refused to write a piece on something that was false. He told me I didn’t have a choice, that if I valued my job, I’d better do as he says. I told him I hated my job and wanted out. I quit.” “Good for you, darling, you stood your ground.” She shrugged, continuing. “He told me I had signed a contract with him and I had another year to go before it was up. Then he told me he would release me if I wrote the story he wanted, that the house was not haunted.” “To which you promptly said no to.” “I said yes.” “What? You can’t be serious. You agreed to write something false even after what you witnessed, what we went through? You’re unbelievable, Jessica.” Fury etched on her face, Jessica spoke unbelievably calm. “I gave him what he wanted, and in turn, my contract was torn up and I was released, but—” She held her hand over his mouth when he opened it to speak. “I had vengeance on my mind. I went to the paper and told them I had an exclusive for them that was going to knock their socks off. I came prepared with a disc documenting all the false reports Hoax Hunters had given in all the years I had been there and explained that Dylan McCray told what he wanted despite the truth.” She removed her hand from his mouth then placed both hands on her hips and glared at C.J. “Jessica…” 169

Secrets of the Dead “For once in my life, I stood up for what I believed in, for what was right. I agreed with the story for my gain, yes, but in turn I did enough damage to a company that has lied for years, and I hope they end up being run out of business. And…” She emphasized with a pointed finger in his face. “I told the papers what had happened at the house, what we had seen and I told them that if they had any questions to contact you. I’m not sure if they will because the guy looked at me like I had lost my mind.” “Jessica.” “I’m not done, Dowling.” She shut him up with a stern glare. “I went into that house with the full intentions of glancing around, then leaving, but because you dared me to stay, I did, and it opened my eyes not just to the fact that the dead do come back, but that life is too short to waste it doing something you hate. So I quit my job, put myself on the line because now people are going to look at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t care, because I’m in love and I…” He clamped her mouth shut with a quick hard kiss, and when he released her, he held his hand over her lips just to be sure she would stay silent. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled beneath his hand so he lifted it. “And you should be,” she snarled at him, feeling righteous. “I love you, and I am damn proud of you.” You should be.” She grinned foolishly. “I promise I will never underestimate you again.” “Damn skippy you won’t.” His lips lifted with a smile. “You lost your towel.” She looked down and saw it pooling at her feet. “So I have.” But she didn’t reach down to pick it up. “Because I know how much you’ve grown, I feel I need to tell you that you have a spirit living here with you.”

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Shiela Stewart She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking dreamily into his eyes. “Sure I do, Dowling. Nice try though, but I’m not falling for your scare me act.” His eyes shifted over Jessica’s right shoulder and to the elderly woman standing behind them with a tray of chocolate chip cookies he could actually smell, and he smiled. “You’re on to me Jessica. Spider.” He cried out, pointing to the floor at nothing. She yelped, jumped up and into his arms, her eyes frantically searching the floor. His laughter clued her into what he had done. “I hate you for doing that to me. It’s not funny, you jerk, stop laughing.” Carrying her to the bedroom—they weren’t going to be ordering food anytime soon—C.J laughed. “Darling, as long as I receive this kind of a reaction from you, I’ll keep doing it.” “I won’t always be naked, Dowling,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “If I have my way, you will be.” Dropping her on the bed, he dove on top of her. ~ An hour later, as they lay in glowing ecstasy, Jessica spoke. “Is there really a spirit here?” “Yes, darling, there is.” “I’m moving in with you, then.” Laughing, he pulled her into his arms and thought for one brief moment to tell her his place was haunted as well. Deciding not to press his luck, he let it go. The End

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About the Author: Shiela Stewart has been writing for the better part of her 40 years, pouring her heart out in words, living a fantasy through the characters she creates. It has always been a dream of hers to have her work published, a dream she has finally seen come to life. When not writing, she is busy working on two websites for organizations she belongs to, tending to her three children, and spending time with the love of her life, William. Shiela has a deep affection for animals and it’s evident in the four cats, one dog, eight fish and three turtles she owns. Aside from writing, she enjoys sketching, painting, singing and dancing, as well as stargazing, astronomy and astrology. Her favorite time of the day is sunset.

Other works by Shiela Stewart: Kidnapped Elizabeth Cromwell is rich, gorgeous and doesn’t have a care in the world. Until she’s whisked away in a van, blindfolded and gagged. Liz is helpless and completely unable to fight against her abductor. Or so he thinks. Mackenzie Tyrell is a good man in a desperate situation. About to see all of his hopes and dreams die, Mac gets caught in a web of deceit that may become his undoing. The plan was simple—abduct the beautiful blonde and hold her for ransom. But when the feisty Elizabeth escapes and then turns the table on Mac, all bets are off. Now he’s tied up and at Liz’s mercy. Was this the worst mistake Mac’s ever made? Or, will the choice lead him to discover something and someone that will change his life forever? Kidnapped by Shiela Stewart is full of suspense and steeped in sensuality. This fast-paced novel is guaranteed to hold you hostage until the very last page.

This is a publication of Linden Bay Romance WWW.LINDENBAYROMANCE.COM

Recommended Linden Bay Romance Read: Forbidden: The Awakening by Samantha Sommersby The past two months have been the longest of Byron Renfield’s three hundred and seventy-nine years. After almost four centuries of dedicated service to his clan, four centuries spent in the pursuit of redemption, the powerful vampire did the inexplainable and unforgivable. In an impulsive act of passion he claimed the beautiful Violet Deeds, a human, as his mate. When Violet found herself stranded on a remote island occupied by the charismatic Byron she never imagined that she would be saving him, but the fiery red-headed psychiatrist did just that—bringing the immortal to life and introducing him to love. Now, afraid of retribution from his clan and concerned for Violet’s safety, Byron takes steps to protect them both. But will it be enough? Irrevocably bound together, as the tie between Byron and Violet strengthens they step into one another’s worlds, awakening long buried desires and threatening the balance of society and nature. A kidnapping, an underground world of rebel vampires, an elaborate network of elite clansman led by an ageless prophet, and a rescue mission that will keep you on the edge of your seat all come together perfectly in this thrilling sequel to Samantha Sommersby’s Forbidden: The Claim. An erotic romance you won’t be able to put down, Forbidden: The Awakening will have you begging for more!