Ghost for Sale (19 page)

“Can I call you?” he persisted.

I capitulated. “Of course, but don’t expect anything from me. Life is complicated right now.” I rattled off my cell number.

His eyes flashed and his grin widened. “Fair enough.” He stood away from the car. “Drive carefully, Ms. King.”

“I will, Officer Atwell.” I eased forward. He raised his hand in acknowledgement. I raised mine, then concentrated on traffic.

“You collect beaux like a dog does fleas.”

“That’s a terrible analogy.” Just thinking about it made me itch.

“You can’t be involved with me.” He took a deep breath, his eyes widened, and his voice remained carefully neutral. “Unless you were talking about Patrick.”

“It’s a little late for that don’t you think? And no, I wasn’t talking about Patrick.” It would be so much easier if I were.

“Lass, what I have done to you?”

“Stolen my heart I’m afraid.”

We had little to say on the ride home, both of us lost in our own thoughts. It was an unusual experience. Usually we chattered like magpies. The quiet of the car was laden, like a storm brewing, thick with tension that sucked one’s breath right out.

I flipped on the radio and turned it to the Celtic station Liam liked. He threw me a quick smile before he went back to staring out the window. The trip that passed so quickly the other day seemed to last forever. Finally, we reached home, and I pulled in the garage beside the Vette.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have your life back soon.” Liam floated to the door and opened it.

“That’s what worries me,” I whispered.

As we walked into the kitchen, Marcy dashed from the living room. “Where have you been?” Before I could respond, she rushed on. “Guess what I bought? Wait. I’ll show you.” She ran into the living room and came back with something behind her back.

“Ta da.” She pulled it out with a flourish. “A Ouija board.”

“Oh my God.” I sank into the nearest chair.

“It’ll be fun,” she enthused. “Of course, we’ll need to wait till it gets dark and light some candles.”

“Of course.”

Liam threw up his hands and shrugged.

The ringing of my cell distracted me. Thank goodness. The Ouija board made me nervous. I picked up my purse, which I’d tossed on the table, and dug it out. “Hello.”

“Hi, Caitlin.”

Delight rose in my throat and bubbled out my mouth. “Hi, Patrick.” I might be in love with a ghost, but I liked a certain flesh and blood man…a lot.

“What are you doing?”

I walked into the living room and flopped down on the cushy couch. “I just got back from Ruby Falls.”

“Research on your book?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No.” I glanced at my watch, surprised to see it was nearly five o’clock.

“Let me take you out then. Or you could invite me over and I’d bring a pizza.”

“I can’t tonight. I’ve got plans with my cousin.” No way was I going to say it involved ghosts, candles, and Ouija boards.

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want to go out, or shall I bring over a pizza and a couple of movies?”

“Pizza and movies sound great. About six?”

“I’ll see you then.”

I clicked off the phone just as the doorbell rang, then beat Liam to the door and opened it. A pimply face teen handed me a warm cardboard box. “Pizza delivery.”

“Marcy, did you order a pizza?” I called.

“Sure did. Pay him, will you?”

I did as directed and took the box. The wonderful smells emanating from it made my knees weak. Pizza two nights in a row…couldn’t beat it.

Caitlin walked in carrying a couple cans of Pepsi and napkins.

“Pizza was a great idea.” I set the box on the coffee table and opened it. “Loaded. Yum.” Like Pavlov’s dog, saliva pooled in my mouth.

“You bet. We’ll have a girls’ night. After the pizza we’ll play the Ouija board and maybe top off the evening with ice cream.”

I took a bite of the steaming pie, briefly closing my eyes in ecstasy. “Okay,” I mumbled around a mouthful. After all, it was just a game. What could possibly go wrong?

* * * *

With a sense of impending doom, I helped Marcy light the candles. I kept repeating to myself,
It’s just a game. It’s just a game.

The little board that caused my heartburn—it couldn’t possibly be from the four slices of pizza I ate—had black letters in the center and numbers beneath the letters.

Marcy turned out the lights.

“Okay, let’s sit on the floor,” she suggested.

I sat down and crossed my legs. She laid the board on our knees.

The board tilted as I shifted my legs. “Shouldn’t we set the board on the floor?”

“The chances of making contact are better if it rests on our knees.”

“Okay.” The board jiggled as I moved closer.

“You have to be careful. Dropping the planchette can release evil spirits.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” I’d tried for sarcasm, but since I meant it, I didn’t quite pull it off.

She placed the planchette on the board. “Now the first thing we ask is, ‘Ouija are you there?’ Are you ready?”

I nodded.

“Ouija, are you there?” The candles flickered, but otherwise nothing happened.

Marcy cleared her throat and said louder. “Ouija, are you there?”

The planchette began to move. It went toward no, wavering before it did a sharp turn to yes.

“Did you do that?” Marcy asked excitedly.

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

Liam hovered behind Marcy’s shoulder. He winked at me and grinned.

Relief coursed through me. Just because there were ghosts, didn’t mean Ouija boards could be used to contact spirits.

“It’s the spirits,” she whispered and looked around, her eyes sparkling. “What is my ghost’s name?”

The planchette slid to the L, then I-A-M.

“Cat, you’re doing that.” Marcy glared at me.

I glared at Liam. With a flourish, he bowed and I swallowed a grin.

“Didn’t you?” she huffed. Then, distracted, she asked, “What are you glaring at?”

“Nothing.” Confirm or deny moving the planchette? Liam made the decision for me. The planchette slid to no.

“Cat?” Marcy tipped her head toward her shoulder and raised her eyebrows.

Mute, I shook my head. This was going to get dicey.

The planchette began to move. Since Marcy still glared at me, I didn’t think she was moving it. The candle flames leaned to the right, then to the left in a macabre dance.

Liam shook his head, his eyes on the planchette. It began to move again. I relaxed my fingers as it hovered on the letter S. From S it moved to T.

I didn’t like this. It slid to A. I put a bit more pressure on the planchette to try to control it as it landed on the Y. It stopped moving. Oh good.

“S-T-A-Y,” Marcy spelled out. In spite of the pressure of my fingers, the planchette slid across the board. This time its stops were brief as if whoever guided the planchette was impatient for us to get his message.

“W-A-Y,” Marcy spelled out loud.

A chill ran down my spine.

“Stay away.” Marcy’s eyes glowed with excitement, and she bounced up and down.

I grabbed the planchette as it started to slide. “Who are you?” I demanded.

“Why it’s Liam, silly. Though I still can’t figure out how you knew his name.”

I ignored her and asked again, “Who are you?” My voice rose.

In a fighting stance, Liam turned in a slow circle. “I don’t see him.”

“Who are you?” My chest heaved and my breath came in short, sharp pants.

Marcy frowned at me, puzzled. “It’s only a game.”

I ignored her, my heart pounding and my palms sweating, and screamed. “Who are you?”

In fits and starts, the planchette started to move. E. I knew what was going to be spelled out. The planchette moved to Z. Intrigued, Marcy began to spell, “E-Z-R-A. Ezra?”

Goose bumps roughened my skin. The hair on the back of my neck rose
. Ezra Ames
. It had to be.

“Ezra, you have to let her go.” I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it, but there was no calling back the words.

A lamp flew across the room and missed my head by inches. Next, a lit candle whirled toward me. Liam grabbed it and put it out with his hand. “Leave her alone,” he roared. In a nanosecond, he blew out the rest of the candles before Ezra could start a fire.

The television came on. Another lamp was hurled through the air.

“Shut the Ouija board,” Liam yelled as he turned on the lights. They were immediately flicked off. The stereo blared.

I started to slam it shut.

“Say good-bye first,” Marcy screamed.

“What?”

I ducked as a small ceramic horse flew off the shelf.

“You have to say good-bye. It’s etiquette. If he doesn’t respond, he might stay here.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he won’t,” I yelled above the wind that whirled around us and slammed the board shut.

Everything quieted. The stereo clicked off. The wind died. The horse whirling through the air dropped to the floor.

Marcy looked at me and said with commendable calm. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s not like you haven’t tried to tell her before,” Liam grumbled as he toured the room.

“Maybe I should have tried harder. Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Tried harder? What are you talking about?” Marcy asked confused. “And yes he appears to be gone. Would you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Perhaps you’d better sit down.”

“I am sitting down.”

“So you are.” I put the lamps back on the tables. Surprisingly, except for a dent in one of the shades, they weren’t damaged. I collapsed back on the floor, my back against the couch. “Remember the other day when I told you the ghost’s name was Liam?”

“Yeah, what a coincidence.”

“No coincidence.” I rubbed my forehead. I could feel a tension headache forming.

“What are you saying?”

“The ghost in the tube that wasn’t damaged was Liam.”

“So when you said you could see and hear the ghost, you were telling the truth, not studying lines for a play?”

“I tried to tell you.”

“But not very hard.”

“Not very hard,” I admitted.

“So you are saying my ghost made this mess?” Marcy looked around in amazement.

“No! And he’s not your ghost. He’s mine,” I snapped.

Liam studied me, a strange little smile on his features.

Heat flooded my face. I lifted my chin. He was my ghost. Mine. No matter what happened. No matter where he ended up, he was mine.

Marcy rubbed her chin with a well-manicured index finger and watched me as well. Finally she said, “This just isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s never been any rivalry between us about guys or objects. Even if I’ve had more than you, you’ve never cared.”

“He’s not an object,” I said hotly. I could feel my eyes spark. I clenched my fists. “He’s a living, breathing entity.” Then, I amended, “Well maybe not the same as you or I live and breathe, but he’s alive on his own plane. And the guys that dumped me to try to make headway with you were jerks. Good riddance to them.”

She nodded in agreement.

“You can’t have Liam. He’s mine, Marcy.”

“I am, lass, yours completely. I love you so much it makes my heart hurt.” He had moved till he stood in front of me, his outline sharp and defined, emotion strong on his face.

My throat burned and my eyes stung. “And I’m yours,” I whispered.

“We’ll pretend that’s the case for now. But you’ve got to remember it’s temporary. I can’t give you what you want and need.” Misery crossed his strong-boned features.

“You’re all I want.” To my horror, I began to cry.

“Here now, lass. Please don’t.” Liam looked stricken and moved as close to me as he dared.

Marcy came over, put her arms around me, and hugged me before she handed me a tissue. I blew my nose, a loud honking sound, definitely not a feminine girlie-girl blow. Her features pasty white, she hurried to the phone and began to dial.

“Who are you calling,” I blubbered.

“Your parents.”

“No, no don’t call my parents,” I gurgled in alarm, trying to talk through the thickness in my throat.

The phone disappeared out of Marcy’s hands and floated across the room. Marcy bit down on a shriek.

“It’s okay. It’s only Liam.” I sniffled.

She took several deep breaths. “I get it. But seeing something float across the room is different than having something jerked out of your hands. Not to mention my fingers are tingling like I’ve had an electric shock.” She shook her hand, her expression accusing.

Concern for my cousin made me forget about my woes. “I’m sorry. The tingling will disappear soon. Come into the kitchen and I’ll fix you a cup of tea and tell you every single detail,” I coaxed. “And this time I won’t leave anything out.”

“I’m thinking she needs something stronger,” Liam observed.

“Since technically we’re underage, nothing alcoholic is allowed in the house.” I brushed at my wet cheeks.

“What?” Marcy stopped shrieking to look at me suspiciously.

“Liam thinks you need something stronger than tea.” I guided her into the kitchen.

“He’s got that right.” She eyed the phone and shuddered.

I seated her at the table before I put the kettle on, then came back and sat down beside her. I squeezed her hand reassuringly. We sat that way for a moment, calming down as I tried to decide how I’d explain everything. Finally, I settled on starting at the beginning. “Remember the day the package arrived and you popped open the test tube?”

She nodded just as the teakettle began to sing. I put tea bags into the matching pink and brown polka dot mugs that said Marcy and Cat on one side and had pink sandals on the other.

I set the mugs on the table and slid into my seat. “I’ll try to explain more fully. The moment you opened the test tube I smelled cinnamon and tart limes—Liam’s signature fragrance—and felt a surge of electricity.”

“But you never said anything.”

“I didn’t know if it was anything more than my imagination. That night when I thought there was an intruder…”