Haunted Hearts Page 9

  Blood pounded in his temples. It wasn’t about the damn TV spot, or even the truth of what had happened the night before. It was bigger than any of that. She was lying to him, acting like they were casual acquaintances instead of lovers.

  Lovers. And maybe more. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it, but Ariadne Fairchild was the first woman he’d ever been with who made him feel alive. Even after only a handful of days, it was clear to him she was different in a way no one else would ever be. To have her treat him like this now was incomprehensible.

  She must think he was an idiot. He slapped the back of his hand into the opposite palm repeatedly, driving home his points, desperate for her to come back to him. “You study the supernatural. You’ve made it your life’s work. You write articles about it. You have three black cats. Three!”

  “I just like black cats,” Ari whispered.

  “You have about a thousand books on witchcraft and”—he stopped to pick one up—“some of them have your name written in them along with the year. Like this one.” He opened it to the first page. “Ari Fairchild, eighth grade.”

  She voice was full, though choked. “That doesn’t prove anything. So I was interested in witches in middle school. Who isn’t?”

  He flung the book back to the bed. “You’re right, that doesn’t prove anything. But I’ll tell you what does.” He paused. An amalgam of pain and awe, curiosity and fury boiled under the surface. His skin burned with it. She stepped back, her hand reaching to the dresser for support.

  “You saw something last night at the Garcias’, Ari. Something I couldn’t see. And you heard something. You followed a sound. A sound I couldn’t hear.” He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know what you call yourself. Maybe you don’t call yourself a witch or a clairvoyant or whatever. But, woman, you are in touch with things, things that other people aren’t, even if they pretend and buy books like those and light candles and dance around naked.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her chin quivered. He could almost see the dam break, the way she shuddered from the inside out.

  “Don’t do this to me,” she implored. “I can’t…” She held her hand over her mouth, as if in horror. Her eyes were wide, like a prey animal caught in a snare.

  Her anguish had Nick’s chest tightening.

  “I can’t say it out loud,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her vulnerability was evident, something hard to resist. He sensed the trap she’d built for herself but couldn’t dismantle it for her. He could only be there to catch her when she fell. If she’ll let me.

  He softened and reached for her. Gently, he removed her glasses and wiped tears from her eyes. “Why not? What could be so awful you can’t say it out loud?”

  Her lips trembled and she hauled in a breath. He felt her legs go out from under her before she did and he lifted her, easing her down to the bed. They sat entwined as she murmured against his chest.

  “They told me it was all in my imagination. That if I talked about it anymore, I’d have to go to a hospital.” She wiped her tears on his T-shirt and looked up at him. “I was terrified. Mostly because my parents had always seemed so delighted with me. I felt safe with them.” She hiccupped. “But after that, I never trusted them—or anyone— again.”

  His throat constricted. “No wonder you can’t talk about this.” He stroked her hair.

  She tried to smile and failed. “Believe it or not, I was a happy child. My world was…amazing. Even now, I can remember…” Her voice trailed off and shadows appeared in her eyes. “The memory is gone so fast, like a spark that dies as soon as you see it.” She rose and straightened in his embrace. “I’m grateful for those lovely early years. They made me strong. But as I got older, my parents convinced me there was something terribly wrong with me, that it was all in my mind. I had to deny who I was in order to survive.”

  Nick listened, absorbing her words, then pulled her to his chest again. “Goddammit. What you must have gone through…” He kissed her ear and rocked her in his arms. He hoped his warmth would seep into her, thaw some of her fear.

  They sat, holding each other. Two black cats jumped up on the bed and began kneading on the quilt. The kitchen clock ticked faintly.

  Finally, Nick couldn’t hide his curiosity any longer. He smoothed Ari’s hair back from her face. “Tell me about it. The things your parents convinced you were only in your imagination.”

  Ari bit her lip. “It’s hard to recall. I’ve trained myself not to think about it.”

  He nodded, lifted one of her palms to his lips and kissed it. “Tell me something small. Anything.”

  She brightened, remembering. “I had a friend, a tree. I named her Melody, for the music of her leaves in the wind.”

  Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Your friend was a tree?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Trees have strong spirits, and Melody was old.” She ran a hand over his shoulder, feeling more confident as she spoke. “She was an oak, with many children.”

  “Ah.” He hoped he sounded accepting of this.

  “Then there were the auras. I always liked those so much.” Her mouth tipped into a smile. “It was hard to not see those later, though I tried. They’ve continued to just show up.”

  “Auras.” Nick repeated. “Like, an energy field or something?”

  The smile widened. “That’s it, yes.” She touched his face. “It was the first thing I noticed about you.”

  He was intrigued. “I have an aura?”

  “Everyone does. Some are more visible than others. Some are mostly sensation, a few are even audible.”

  He tipped his head. “So, what’s my aura?”

  She studied him, her smile gentle. “It’s a sensation first. A good vibration, with a sparkling blue mist.”

  He laughed. “You make me sound like a fine wine on Mars.”

  A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “I know it sounds unlikely, but it’s always been my truth.” She exhaled. “There’s a lot more to tell, much of which I don’t understand. I tried so hard to let it all go. To ignore it or forget it. But it refused to go away.”

  Nick touched her chin with the tip of his finger. “Because it’s who you are.” He considered. “Have you ever tried to make things happen? To…” He hesitated. “Work with the energy?”

  She shook her head. “When I was very young, things happened that seemed natural to me, but I never consciously harnessed energy. I was too little for that to even occur to me.”

  He was intrigued. “What kinds of things happened?”

  She gestured dismissively. “Nothing spectacular. Entities sometimes appeared when I called them. Once, a thunderstorm came out of nowhere when I was trying to avoid swimming lessons, which I hated. I had sent a wish out in the only way I knew how, a plea to the sky. It was probably a coincidence.”

  She paused. “Later, I was afraid of my own capacity and purposely held back my instincts around anything I might sense or see. It wasn’t safe. And it might have meant they were right, and I was crazy.” She looked at him, fear in the brown eyes.

  He heard the quake in her voice, especially now that she’d taken the chance and opened up to him. “Ari, you are not crazy. And whatever happened last night was not in your imagination.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly. “I know what I saw, and I know what I felt when you opened that hidden door under the stairs. If you’re crazy, then I’m right there with you, baby.”

  Ari met his gaze. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  He chuckled. “Hell, no. You’re saner than anybody else I know.”

  “You don’t think I’m unbalanced? Or unprofessional?”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. “Woman, I think you’re phenomenal. And gifted. And even if you never tell me what happened last night, I’ll always be in awe of you.”

  Her face relaxed then, and her breath came easier. Fresh tears ran down her face as a tentative smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. �
��I will tell you.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Let me get this straight. You saw Martha, and when you said her name, she vanished down the hallway, sobbing. Then you followed the sounds of her sobbing into a dark hole.” Nick’s voice was heavy with irony. “Seriously. Did it never occur to you to be scared of what might happen?”

  They were walking on the campus grounds near her office before meeting with Father Joe and Samir. Ari had changed into her mundane academic garb, a simple blue jacket and skirt with fitted white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. Nick was wearing a fresh rendition of his preferred uniform, having stopped at his apartment for supplies.

  Ari waved away his question. “Departed spirits are nothing to be afraid of. They’re often unhappy, but they don’t have much power. I don’t know how she locked the back door on Rosie—or even if she did—but that kind of action takes lots of energy. She would have been pretty diminished after doing something telekinetic.”

  Nick whistled. “For someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts, you seem to know a lot.”

  She inclined her head. “Maybe I believe a little.”

  He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “What did Martha look like?”

  Ari raised her face to the sun, warm in spite of the chilly fall day. “Like a character out of the Dick and Jane books. Cute. But unhappy.”

  “Dick and Jane books?”

  “The basic readers of the nineteen-forties. Super corny.” Curiosity snagged her. “You watch old movies but don’t know Dick and Jane?”

  He snorted. “Not my priority. Ask me anything about the femme fatales of the era and I can tell you a lot. Rita Hayworth, Barbara Stanwyck. The first time I saw Key Largo, I cursed the universe for being born too late to comfort Lauren Bacall after Bogie died.”

  She laughed. “That’s fair.” She studied his hand in hers as they walked, kicking through dry leaves on the quad. “No, Martha was definitely not a femme fatale. Just a sad little girl.”

  “But you didn’t see her after you went downstairs.”

  She shook her head. “No, I only heard the crying. It was insistent.” She considered not saying any more but decided there was no benefit in holding back now. “She wanted me to follow her. It was her intention to show me the drawings.”

  Nick gestured to a bench under a wide oak tree, devoid of leaves and skeletal against the bright sky. They sat and he draped his arm around Ari’s shoulders. She snuggled in and faced him. “It did occur to me briefly that there might be something disturbing in the closet under the stairs,” she admitted. “But I knew it was unlikely to actually be dangerous.”

  His gaze was assessing. “How the hell did you find that hidden door?”

  She shrugged. “It was a feeling. It’s one I’ve had many times. The best way to describe it is that I get a vague sensation of what’s about to happen. Then it does.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “Sometimes.” There had been a thousand times since childhood she’d struggled to deny and ignore those sensations. It was painful to think about.

  Nick became thoughtful. “Why did Martha want you to see the drawings?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She angled herself toward him. “Martha and Earnest were twins. Most twins are extremely close, often inseparable. Martha drowned, probably around the age Rosie is now, which could be one reason she favors Violet.”

  “How so?”

  “Martha is looking for Earnest. That’s obvious. She’s looking for help, which means she has to recruit someone who is open to seeing and hearing her. Violet, being so young, is the best candidate. And Rosie, probably around the age when Martha died, could be a source of jealousy or grief.”

  “Makes sense.” He inclined his head. “But why can’t Martha find Earnest? If he died, wouldn’t he—or his spirit—be with her now?”

  Ari studied the oak’s leafless branches, silhouetted against the sky. “I’ve been wondering about that, too. If Earnest died outside his home, in a hospital or nursing facility, she might not realize he’s in the spirit world now. And he might not know how to find her, either.” Sadness settled over her. “I feel for both of them. I’m assuming Martha’s spirit stayed very close to Earnest while he was alive, so they must both be lost right now.”

  Nick traced her mouth with the tip of his finger. “So, Martha needed help. She tried with Violet. Then you showed up. Other than Violet, you’re the only person who’s seen or heard Martha. And you’re no innocent child. There’s a reason she appeared to you.”

  Ari hesitated. This still felt like risky territory. It was tenuous to admit to herself what she’d experienced, much less to admit it to someone else.

  She nodded, exhaling. “Somehow she knew I was likely to see her and hear her.”

  “She sensed something about you. Your powers.”

  Ari startled. “Powers?” she whispered.

  He studied her. “Might as well call it what it is. Are you going to help her?”

  Her lips parted and she examined him for any sign he might have misgivings about who she was, or what that reality would mean for them. There was none.

  She nodded. “I have to. She’s heartbroken. My guess is she’s been roaming the house looking for Earnest ever since he died three years ago, becoming more despondent all the time.”

  “Do you know what to do?”

  She tapped her lips. “I think so, and I have resources to consult. The more I come to terms with my…identity, the more I seem to remember.” A frisson of discomfort ran down her spine but the warmth of Nick’s attunement softened it.

  “Ari, you have something rare. A gift of some kind.” His tone was serious.

  “It’s felt a lot more like a curse.” Bitterness stuck in her throat, but only briefly. Her parents hadn’t meant to crush her spirit, and they hadn’t, but they’d come close. She raised her hand to Nick’s face. “You’re the first person who’s seen me for who I am—and accepted it.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, first softly, then more ardently. Her heart swelled as she returned his passion. “You’re a miracle,” he murmured. He pulled away and ran a tongue over his lips. “And you look edible in that suit, Professor. We’d better get going if I’m going to keep myself under control.”

  Ari laughed, a bubbling of light that she’d rarely felt. It still felt fragile, hard to believe, but the brilliant sunshine and glowing blue aura of the man next to her led her to suspect it might be real.

  * * * *

  Nick noticed Rocky’s hands shaking and rolled his eyes. “Listen, there’s seriously nothing to worry about, man,” he reassured the cameraman, then couldn’t help adding, “The demons can smell it when you’re nervous.” He chuckled at Rocky’s wide eyes and thumped his shoulder playfully. “You know,” he murmured in Rocky’s ear as they made their way from Rosie’s bedroom to the stairs, “Ari is a powerful witch. If any poltergeists try to get you, she’ll put a spell on them.”

  Rocky shrugged off Nick’s hand. “Go to hell. Making jokes doesn’t help. I have a thing about Halloween and dead people stuff.” He glanced at Nick sheepishly.

  “I assure you we’re firmly in the land of the living.” Nick led the way downstairs, dropping the teasing for now. He was ready to get back to his beautiful enchantress. “Let’s get a solid shot of the front of the house in the dark, do the intro and wrap-up, and we’ll be done.”

  They’d been through the house again, filming blurbs that Nick would edit to create a light story to air on Halloween night. The narrative would be about a series of occurrences that seemed bizarre but could be explained by the rivalry between two cute little girls. The focus would be on the Halloween decorations, the charming, spooky atmosphere of Starling Pond Drive at night and children with runaway imaginations. No mention of Earnest or Martha or the drawings in the basement, which only he and Ari knew about.

  Filming in front of the house, in the early evening darkness of late October, would make perfect
bookends to the story. Nick couldn’t wait to finish this thing and move on to…what? He wasn’t sure. Bigger stories, certainly, but exploring things with Ari felt more important than everything else right now. His whole body felt drawn toward her like a magnet. It was hard to think about work.

  They found Father Joe and Samir on the front porch, where an entry light illuminated the decorative pink spider and her cottony web. Father Joe didn’t look happy. Before Nick could ask what was up, Samir spoke. “Do you need me anymore? I have a date. Though I could cancel it if you need me.” He tilted his head coquettishly. “We could get that drink.”

  Nick smiled. “The interview we did earlier will do it, thanks.” He winked at the young man. “Have fun on your date.”

  “You know I will.” Samir waved over his shoulder and sashayed down the sidewalk, carrying the duffel bag of equipment.

  The filming took less than five minutes. Rocky headed to his truck. “I’m outta here. If you need me, don’t call. I’m gonna go get a drink—by myself. In a well-lit bar. With no Halloween decorations.”

  Nick grinned and turned to Father Joe, who had been waiting, an unreadable expression on his face. “Where did Ari go?”

  The priest nodded in the direction of the house across the street. “Said she wanted to talk to a couple of neighbors. She didn’t tell me why.” Lines of concern striped the older man’s forehead. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I had a distinct sense that something happened last night, but today we’ve proceeded as if nothing is at issue. Dr. Fairchild has told us naught beyond a generic statement of wrapping up your TV spot and retrieving the recording equipment from the house.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Luckily, the door of the house across the street opened and Ari appeared. She walked in and out of pools of light from front porches and streetlights, looking like a vision as she approached the men. Warmth swelled in Nick’s chest and he wished he could whisk her back to his place and forget the film editing.

  Ari’s face was pink and her eyes bright. “I spoke to someone who knew Earnest. I’ll fill you in later.” The thread of excitement was audible under the seriousness of her tone as she addressed the priest. “Father Joe, Nick and I have some things to share with you. Let’s go in the house.”