Into the Light (6 page)

"What do you mean?"

So I explained the best I could. It's kind of hard to explain how things work for me. Even to Trip.

"So we just had a foursome, sort of?"

"Kind of. Not really. It's hard to..."

"Never mind. Forget it. Let's get some sleep. We'll worry about our slutty ways in the morning."

I had to laugh. Trip can make light of just about anything. When you deal in the unknown, a sick sense of humor is key.

I felt myself drifting off just as he began to snore. I thought of Kimi and Jeremiah. Of love stolen from young lovers. Of marriage vows that never were, and ghosts that cry and rock over a lover long dead.

I opened my eyes to see the final slow rock of what I now thought of as Kimi's chair. She had been here. Watching me sleep.

I was alone for now. I looked at the clock and sat up. It was past seven thirty. Trip had let me sleep. I pulled on a pair of his boxers and made my way down to the living room. Coffee. The smell led me to the others.

"There she is,” Mikey said. “The queen of the psychics. Even gets special sleeping privileges."

"My, aren't you in a good mood?” I said, sipping from the mug Liz handed me. “Could you retract your claws long enough for me to soak up some caffeine?"

"He's just grumpy because I had him up late,” Missy said. Her words were bold but a flush crept up her cheeks. Her pale blue eyes dipped with embarrassment.

"You go, girl.” I met Trip's eyes and smiled. We hadn't been the only ones burning the midnight oil. “Not to intrude, but did anything strange happen when you were ... um..."

"What kind of strange?” Missy asked, looking mortified.

Trip covered a laugh by coughing. What were Missy and Mikey up to behind closed doors?

"Martee means supernatural strange, that's all."

A look of relief passed over Missy's face and she giggled. “No supernatural strange."

"Beyond that, we don't need to know,” Liz interjected. She was looking just a tad pissed. Maybe we needed to take on a sixth member. Someone tall, dark, and available. Just to level the playing field.

"So what's the plan today?” I watched Trip think it over as he paced. He looked exhausted, unkempt, and frazzled. Beyond sexy.

"I think we need to come clean about last night with the rest.” He nodded toward our group. “Then we need to come up with a game plan to put her to rest."

"Come clean?” Liz stared at me warily. She's on the shy side and our admission would, at the very least, make her uncomfortable.

"We were having sex last night,” I said quickly, “and I got a little visit mid-encounter. Anyway, it was Kimi. That's her name. She was showing me an experience with Jeremiah and it was very intense. They loved each other very much."

Trip's eyes found mine, and he looked at me hard enough to see through me. I still have problems with The L-Word. He doesn't. If Kimi brought the message through me at that particular time, then she identified with what Trip and I felt for each other. I knew this logically, but saying it was different.

"Wow, that's so romantic!” Missy flopped into a huge dining chair, her face lit with a romantic euphoria.

"Yes. It is very romantic, Missy,” I grumped, “but that's hardly the point. She's staying here and reliving her love affair with Jeremiah over and over again. On the flip side, though, she must be aware he's dead. She definitely knows
she's
dead. Why else would she rock in that chair and cry? She's missing him."

"Why not just cross over and find his ass?” Mikey asked. He lit a cigarette, breaking Margaret Sail's no-smoking rule.

"I'm not sure.” I shrugged. “She could be afraid. She might not want to let go. She may just want to stay here where she feels safe. With what she knows. She might believe their love will be forbidden on the other side as well.” I bit into a stale donut and sighed. “I just need her to talk to me."

"Right. Any thoughts?” Trip was eyeing Mikey's cigarette with longing.

"We'll go outside and have a smoke, and I'll think it over.” I grabbed my coffee cup and topped it off. “Just let me get dressed."

The porch of the farmhouse was gorgeous. It wrapped around the entire house and overlooked a large chunk of property. The leaves blazed in all their glory—rich shades of red and orange and yellow. Margaret had lined large and small pumpkins along the front and interspersed them with bails of hay and Indian corn. The effect was pure New England Halloween. Something from
Martha Stewart Living
.

I crushed my cigarette out on my boot, afraid of igniting the hay. “I think I have to sit in that room and force contact. She wants to talk to me now.” I sighed and allowed Trip to pull me close and wrap his arms around me. “Maybe, once I can get her to open up, I can convince her to go. I can't even imagine how many opportunities she's had to cross over."

"I don't like when they hijack you like that, Babe. It sucks. I'm always scared..."

I stayed quiet and waited. He stroked my back and warmed my frozen body.

"I'm just always afraid that, one of these times, I won't get you back. You won't be you any more."

To be honest I'd had the same fear once or twice. So, I told Trip what I tell myself: “I'm protected and surrounded, always. I'm guided and watched over. No ghost is a match for guides, deceased loved ones, and about four billion angels. That includes the Archangels, by the way,” I boasted good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just ... I can't
see
your help. I believe you that they're around you. I'd just like to really know it. I'm not a psychic, Martee. If I can't see it, I have a hard time accepting it."

I kissed him on each sleepy eyelid and smiled. “And you call yourself a ghost hunter? I guess you'll just have to trust me on this one."

In the bedroom, I sat in Kimi's seat and started to rock.
I'm ready whenever you are,
I called out in my mind.
You don't have to be afraid of me. I can help you get back what you lost.

She came on a breath. One moment not there, the next taking all the energy in the room. The temperature dropped a good twenty degrees. My body went cold, and my mind kind of stuttered. She wasn't just drawing energy from her surroundings—she was siphoning it out of me too. I'd experienced it before, but still wasn't used to it. If anything, it's unsettling to feel your life force wane in an instant.

"It's about time.” I laughed aloud. “And can you leave me a little juice to run on? You're killing me here."

I received a graceful nod in reply, and she settled in front of me like a feather. She was spectacularly beautiful. Long, lean, and graceful. Beautiful skin and a curtain of hair the color of coal. Her eyes were large and soulful. And haunted.

"How did they kill you?” She'd taken so much energy I was reverting to speaking out loud. I didn't have the power to project my thoughts clearly.

Her lips remained pressed together—not a talker. But I was suddenly barraged with a sea of chaotic images. A heavy burlap sack was forced over my head, and I could feel its abrasive texture. Immediately my heart sped, and my breath froze in my lungs. I was brutally forced forward over rocky, uneven ground I couldn't see. I stumbled, fell, tore open the flesh of my knees, and was righted with a lot of force. Then I was flying into open air. Nothing to grab, no contact with earth. A fast, yet torturously long trip over the edge—and then sudden impact, a flash of pain, and nothingness. For hours. Then the realization that the world was still around me but I was no longer of it. That I could see my lover and speak to him, but he could not hear or answer me.

I wondered briefly how many times a day she “died.” Relived that horror. Played it like a movie loop.

She had witnessed his pain, his grief, his rage. She had seen that he suspected the brothers, but they claimed tragedy. She had witnessed his world spiraling out of control and the secret glee of her attackers, but could do nothing to make herself known. She was too weak and too young of a spirit to come through.

I had enough time to suck in a breath, and then the next wave of pictures hit me. My head throbbed as painfully as an open wound, and I rode out the dizziness that invaded.

The first brother, Justin—the name came—fell off his horse and was trampled. The horse had been spooked. Kimi had done the spooking. The second oldest, Judd, fell from a ladder doing roof repairs for his father. The ladder had tipped. The force had been Kimi. The stronger she grew, the faster she struck out. The final brother—the eldest, James—was impaled by a weather vane. The storm that caused the tragedy was not nearly as strong as most storms in these parts, but Kimi had given it some help.

"You got them all.” I was filled with a mixture of horror and a sense of justice. They had deserved it, each of them, but it hadn't fixed a damn thing.

She nodded, and then sent me the impressions of Jeremiah's death. My chest swelled with an ache that was overwhelming. An invisible raw, empty wound pulled at my breast. To see him take his own life had tortured her soul further. Made her more desperate. Now he was gone from her, or so she thought. He was not here for her to sit by, watch, or touch gently. Not here. He was there and she couldn't go.

"But you can go,” I muttered. “You could have gone a million times by now."

She ignored me, and hit me with round four. I closed my eyes and braced myself. My head felt like it would split open, and I could feel my rapid pulse in my temples. I wasn't prepared for the gush of erotic images that came.

Strong, loving hands snaked up my thighs, parted me, and invaded me. An eager mouth explored each inch of my flesh, paying particular detail to the most sensitive places. Heating the flesh behind my ears with breath, the back of my neck with warm kisses. A shiver passed through me that had nothing to do with how cold I was.

I felt Jeremiah's thickness slide into me. Felt blissful friction over each inch of the slippery slope he climbed. I heard the murmurs, the sighs, and the tender words. There was so much more than sex. So much love and friendship. My eyes grew moist, and my breath hitched in my lungs. The hands were everywhere, savoring and touching each part of me. Relishing each instant of contact as we moved together in the perfect rhythm of soul mates. A forceful erotic pulse started deep inside of me, rushing me toward a staggering climax.

"Stop!” I yelled, startling myself at the force of my voice.

I was trembling and wet between the legs. Residue of psychic orgasm pulsed through me, and I wiped my leaking eyes.

"I understand,” I said, gaining control.

I did understand. It was so very close to what I experienced every time I laid down and took Trip into my body. Her images were more intense because they were tainted with years and years of yearning and pain.

"Where are you? Your body, I mean?"

She pointed out the bedroom window, and then was gone. I didn't even see her go.

The door flew open and Trip came rushing in, followed by Mikey. His face was a mask of white fear.

"What happened?” Before I could answer, he dropped to his knees and gathered me into his arms. His heart was beating so forcefully that it masked the beat of my own. He was scared.

"I'm fine. Calm down. I just had to exercise a little control.” I pushed him back gently, smoothed his hair, and kissed him. “It's okay. I promise. I know what to do."

He pushed out a huge breath and slumped. “Great. Next time you figure out what to do, could you let me know without giving me a heart attack?"

I barely had the energy to laugh, but I did. “I promise to give that a try."

The five of us tramped through the same rocky, uneven ground in my vision. The woods surrounding the house were dense and silent. No bird sounds, no squirrels, nothing to indicate presence of life.

Mikey smacked his cell phone and muttered a curse. “I can barely get reception out here. Why am I calling Margaret?” He took out a cigarette, and Liz smacked it out of his hand.

"You trying to start a fire? There's about a bazillion dead leaves on the ground, idiot!"

He turned nearly purple, but held his tongue. She had a point.

I held Trip's hand and soaked in the contact. I was still weak and exhausted but, after a Coke and a few aspirins, was up for the trek.

"I need to know if Jeremiah's buried on the grounds. A lot of times they had private cemeteries on the larger farms."

Mikey nodded and then plugged his ear. “Yes! Hello?” He waved us ahead while he tried to get Margaret to the phone.

"It's up ahead?” Trip asked, his eyes searching the thick stand of trees for a break.

"I think it's just past these trees. She showed me the whole thing.” I shivered. “It was awful. Horrible. I still can't believe what some people are capable of. And for what reason? Because they were in love!” I could feel myself tensing and pushed the anger back.

"Different times, Babe. It isn't right but, sadly, it was common. I don't get it either but we were raised to be PC."

"PC, my ass,” I spat. “We were raised to be human."

Trip shrugged and pulled me against him. “Let's find her and get this over with. It's Halloween. I'm ready to go home and hide under the covers with you and tell you campfire tales. Then I can comfort you with my manly ways."

I grinned. I was ready for home, too.

Mikey came running up panting, “Margaret says it's on the east side of the house. All you can see from the house is a grove of trees, but she said it's on the other side."

We reached the edge of the field and picked our way carefully through the brush. The dead leaves crunched under our feet, and twigs snapped as loud as gunshots. A branch smacked me across the face and drew blood.

"Shit!” I wiped my face and tried to calm down.

"It's up here,” Liz called. “I can see where the land drops off."

The drop-off was steep and led to a shallow river peppered with rocks and boulders. I recognized the spot immediately.

"That's the spot, but where's the body?” Missy asked.

I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and got my answer. “We need to climb down. It should be right under that oak."