Haunted: Penance / After the Lightning / Seeing Red. Debra Cowan
ear, his deep voice vibrating.
Because she doubted herself and her strength to survive another rejection. Her fingers knotted in his shirt, wrinkling the expensive fabric. She wanted to hold on to him, but unless he knew the truth, that wasn’t fair…to either of them.
“I’m not good for you, David.” Not in the way he deserved. He needed someone sweet and uncomplicated. Someone uncursed.
“Are you talking about my reputation again?” he asked, pulling away from her.
Deprived of the heat of his embrace, she shivered again, this time as a foreboding chill raced across her skin. If he was worried about bad press now, what would happen if the media ever got wind of the past of the woman he was dating? He would have no privacy, no peace…until he distanced himself from her. Forever.
“I’m talking about your pride,” she said, grasping at any excuse.
His forehead creased with confusion. “What?”
“Isn’t that why you’re upset I called Ty instead of you? It’s why you hate publicity. You put your own pride before me,” she accused, lifting her defenses again with anger as she tried to provoke his. She wanted him to walk away now…before she weakened so much she forgot her pride and begged him to stay.
He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Why are you pushing me away?”
He was the one who’d pulled back physically. But emotionally she was doing as he accused, to protect herself as well as him. He was too good a man to live with her curse.
“If I’m pushing, why are you still here?” she asked, her heart aching as she struggled with her fears. “Just leave.”
“Ariel?” Bewildered and hurt, his voice cracked on her name.
“Just leave me alone!” she shouted, all her anger and desperation raw and exposed in her shaking voice.
He drew in a ragged breath, and his chin lifted with the pride she’d accused him of putting before her. “If that’s what you want, fine.”
She closed her eyes, not opening them until the slam of the front door shook the thin walls of her house. She couldn’t watch him walk away from her, not the way she’d watched Haylee fade into the mist. Once his temper calmed, he’d be back.
By then, she would be gone.
They circled him, these women cloaked in darkness with hooded robes covering their hair and shadowing their faces. Even as flames licked up from the blazing fire, they remained in shadow. The glow lit up the night sky while the smoke hung low, gathering thickly just above the ground, choking him. His lungs fought desperately for breath, and as he gasped and coughed, they laughed, their voices clear and melodious.
And malicious.
The laughter echoed in his ears, in his head, like thunder, splitting his skull. Pain throbbed at his temples, at his neck, radiating throughout his body until he shuddered under the force of it.
They were killing him. His chest ached as the last of his breath escaped him. The fire blurred, then burned on his lids as he closed his eyes on the life he’d known. But even then the pain wouldn’t go away. There was no welcome release from it. No peace.
He jerked awake, throwing back the blankets tangled around him like the ropes with which they’d bound him. As he staggered from the bed, he bumped against the nightstand, knocking the journal to the cold, hard floor. The bang as the book struck the wood ricocheted like a gunshot through his skull.
Careful to move slowly as he bent over, he reached for the journal. His family’s history. His legacy, locked away for years, discounted as the incomprehensible ramblings of a crazy man. No one had understood his ancestor. Until now. Until just the few short weeks ago he’d come into possession of the journal and read it. If only he’d known sooner…about the curse, about the power of the charms and the witches. Now he understood his dreams, the black-and-white visions of his future. It was his curse. His demise.
If they got to him first.
But now that he knew about the witches and knew about their powers, he would be able to find them. To reclaim the charms and stop them.
To kill them before they killed him.
Chapter 2
The door opened at just the barest brush of her knuckles against the wood. A man stood in the shadow of the old oak door. Despite the two weeks that had passed, his face still bore traces of bruises in the yellow stains around his eyes and jaw. The same yellow Haylee had often worn, to match similar bruises.
“Ariel!” Ty said, his voice raspy either from disuse or from the bruises on his throat, visible even in the shadow of his shirt collar. “Where’ve you been?”
“Away.” She’d run away, and she hated herself for the cowardice. She could have blamed her running on grief over Haylee, or despair over the school board suspending her. But she knew what it really was; like blood from a split lip, she could taste the fear.
“David’s been going crazy looking for you. He’s beyond worried.”
No doubt he was furious, with every right. She’d taken off shortly after their fight, fleeing the shelter of her cozy little home for anonymous hotels. For an anonymous life. But she’d not been running from the media or from grief. She’d been running from herself, from who and what she was.
But like the times she’d run before—from the ghosts, from the disgust of foster parents—she’d realized there was no escape. She had to deal with what she was—and so would David once she gave him the chance. Fear over the risk she was taking squeezed her heart.
She hadn’t told anyone about the curse since an old boyfriend back in college who’d dropped her and transferred to a different school after she’d shared her secret with him. After that heartbreak, she’d only casually dated. Until David.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have disappeared like that.” Pushing David away before he could reject her had cheated them both.
Ty waved off her apology with a hand, the knuckles of which were scabbed over, the fingers swollen. Then he stepped back and gestured her inside his apartment, one of three in a converted Tudor on Barrett’s east side. Despite the cracks in the plaster and scratches on the old hardwood floors, the apartment was charming with its dark red paint, high ceilings, thick oak trim and leaded-glass windows. His living room expanded into the turret, bathing it in light, but somehow he remained in shadow.
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” he said as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “I’m not going crazy.”
But his blue eyes were a bit wild, his manner more edgy than she’d ever seen him. She’d met Ty before she’d met David when the police officer had spoken at safety assemblies at the school. He’d definitely gotten through to the children about danger, intimidating more than befriending them. Like David, he was more intense than easygoing, his navy-blue eyes ever watchful. He always stared at her, making her wonder if she passed his scrutiny. Did he approve?
But this visit wasn’t about her or David. “I’m apologizing to you,” she insisted. “I never should have called you that day.”
He shrugged. “What—you were going to dial 911 and explain that you wanted them to go out because a little kid missed school? Her dad called in the absence, saying she was sick. They wouldn’t have sent anyone out.”
“But you went.” And for the first time she wondered why.
He jerked his chin down in a rough nod. “And if I hadn’t, that bastard would have finished packing and skipped town. You did the right thing, Ariel, no matter what David said to you.”
“You know?”
“That he was upset you called me?” He nodded again. “I’ve known David a long time.” He chuckled, the sound