with something like this. I don’t find serial killers or women being held prisoner amusing.”
“Neither do I,” he shot back. “But I have found making a joke or two can help relieve some of the pressure.”
Since she didn’t have a response for that, she kept quiet.
“I do have a question.” Clearing his throat, he eyed her. “Exactly how powerful are you?”
So intent had she been on focusing on thinking of him like a brother, the question didn’t immediately register. She blinked, frowning, as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry—what?”
“How much power do you have?”
“That’s what I thought you said. I don’t understand what you mean. If you’re talking about firepower, yes, I do own a gun. I’ve even taken classes to learn how to handle it. For my own protection, of course.”
Now he frowned. “I’m not talking about a weapon, though that may come in handy, and I think you know it. I’m asking about your powers. You know, your magic. How strong is it?”
“Magic?” Then she remembered she was talking to a ghost. “Tyler, the only magic I possess is the ability to see and hear spirits. Most times it’s more like a curse than magic.”
His gaze slid over her, the assessing look in his eyes saying he wasn’t sure if she was serious. And then he grimaced and shook his head. “I understand. Good one. You’ve proved your point. I shouldn’t have accused you of being too serious.”
“But—”
He waved away her protests. “You almost had me fooled for a moment. You must be a very powerful witch indeed, if you’re trying to hide it.”
More oddness. A powerful witch, huh? Maybe he thought she dressed like this because she had magic. Or something. Who knew? Every second she spent with him kept getting weirder and weirder. “I’m just a regular person who happens to see ghosts.” And had already had one mental breakdown. She fervently hoped this wasn’t another. “I thought you ghostly beings knew everything.”
One dark eyebrow arched, his face showing an uncanny awareness of how uneasy she was becoming.
“What makes you think that? If we knew everything, I’d know exactly where to find my sister.” He turned away, staring out at the road ahead of them. “And I wouldn’t need you.”
Good point. Somewhat relieved, she decided to keep on trying to help. “Let’s head to the police station. I’ll figure out something to say that won’t get me thrown in jail.” She hoped.
* * *
Tyler rode in the passenger seat of her car as if he were alive, just because he wanted to study this Anabel Lee a bit more closely. When he’d received Dena’s frantic pleas for help, he’d searched for the most powerful witch he could find. He’d been drawn to the energy radiated from Anabel, just like all the other ghosts, apparently. He’d immediately realized he’d made the right choice when she not only looked at him, but could hear him when he spoke.
One thing that had taken him by surprise was her beauty. Tall and graceful, slender and shapely, and her delicate features left him momentarily speechless. Her midnight hair tumbled carelessly down her back, adding to her attraction. But her copper eyes fringed in long, sooty lashes had done him in. He’d never seen anything like her. Exquisite, enchanting and sexy as hell. The instant he’d met her, he’d felt the impact of her femininity like a sucker punch to the gut.
Which pissed him off royally. After all, he’d come back as a ghost to save his sister, not fight an overwhelming attraction to a witch. Which, despite Anabel’s claims to the contrary, she most definitely was.
He didn’t understand why she insisted on lying about her magical ability. Maybe if he told her they were most likely dealing with not only a serial-killer psychopath, but a powerful warlock, she’d come clean. Because everyone knew to fight magic with magic, didn’t they?
Or maybe, maybe she just didn’t know.
The instant that idea occurred to him, he discounted it. How could she radiate power and not understand who and what she was?
For now, he decided to let that topic rest.
“So,” she asked, shooting him a sidelong glance that told him she felt nervous, “in the afterlife, do you still shift into a wolf?”
“Of course,” he answered, playing along. “We are what we are. Dying doesn’t change that.” He thought for a moment and then completed his statement. “At least, until we’re reborn into a new body.”
“Of course.” And she laughed, as if he’d made a joke. “Reincarnation too? Why not.”
Not sure what to think about this, he decided not to pursue this topic either. Things were confusing enough, what with warlocks and serial killers and ghosts. What choice did he have but to let it go? For all he knew, powerful witches thought differently from everyone else.
And, he reminded himself, Anabel Lee had to be a witch with very strong powers. She had to be, if they were to have a prayer in defeating the man who’d captured and enslaved his sister. If it turned out she wasn’t, then he’d chosen wrong and Dena would die.
Contenting himself with looking out the window, though Leaning Tree looked exactly as he remembered, he was struck anew by the rustic beauty. Right now the green leaves flirted with shades of yellow, red and orange. In a few weeks, they’d blaze with color, as soon as the first crispness started to creep into the air. Autumn had always been his favorite time of year.
A moment later, they pulled up at the police station. The one-story, redbrick building looked the same. Again, memories surfaced. He’d spent a fair amount of time here as a kid, when his father was arrested for whaling on his mother.
“Wait here,” she ordered, shooting him a stern look as she got out of her car.
“Right.” He did exactly as she said, for maybe ten seconds. And then he materialized inside the station, waiting for her by the battle-scarred counter of the front desk as she walked in.
The dirty look she gave him made him smile.
“Anabel Lee.” The frizzy-haired woman behind the counter sounded less than thrilled. “What do you want?”
To her credit, Anabel didn’t react to the overt hostility in the receptionist’s tone. “I’d like to see Captain Harper, please.”
The other woman, whose name tag read Brenda Winder, appeared unmoved, squinting at Anabel through thick glasses. “Of course you would. Why don’t you tell me what it is you need, and I’ll see if I can find someone to help you? Since I am, you know, the dispatcher. That’s what we do.” Her unkind smile had Tyler clenching his fists.
He glanced at Anabel, to see what she would do. To his surprise, she’d assumed a deferential posture. “I’d prefer to discuss it with him, thanks.”
Pursing her mouth, the other woman glared at her. “Have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Without commenting, Anabel found a metal folding chair and lowered herself into it.
Enraged,
