The Dead Tell (Magical Temptations Collection) (3 page)

Mike cupped
Paige’s elbow and started to help her.

St. Cyr strode
back in. “Alley’s clear. There’s a DeLuth grave in the Number One. I’ll go check it out.”

He felt Paige tremble
and she grabbed his arm, squeezing, before she said, “Go with him. I can get home alone.”

“
I’ve got an idea,” Sammy said pouring two to-go cups. “Y’all take her home, see her safely inside and then go check out the... cemetery?” Sammy asked, her eyes locking onto Paige, her mouth firming. “You, sugar, go back to bed.”

“
I don’t need a baby sitter,” Paige said on a sigh, “it’s only a few blocks. Besides, civilians aren’t supposed to ride in cop cars.”

“
Baby sitter sounds good to me. Then I’d know you’d be safe,” Mike muttered.

“
Oh hush,” she said, but leaned against him as they walked out. “Really, I can make it home myself.”

“Or you can get in the car and just go along quietly. Works easier that way,” he said.

In no time, he had her buckled into the back seat, her normally tanned complexion pale, too pale. All the while she kept saying she was fine and she could get home fine. But he’d heard her when they’d driven up and her first words had been, “Did you see anyone?”

He kept glancing at her in the back seat.

A
few minutes and they stopped in front of her house on Burgundy, a shutter hanging just a bit crooked. He helped her out, walked her in and promised to be back later to check on her.

She waved him off.
“Mike, I’m fine. I should be at the shop—”

He stepped back over the threshold.
“You look like crap. Rest. I’ll be back.”

“
And you wonder why you’re still single.”

With his hands on the back of her head, his thumbs grazing her jaw, he tilted her chin up so that he could see her eyes.
“Honey, I know why I’m single.”

Her eyes narrowed.
“Really.”

Her ha
ir had always been soft, always fascinated him. He saw her eyes darken, heard her indrawn breath. God, all he wanted to do was back her against the door and kiss her stupid, then slide into her. He leaned closer and breathed deep against her neck, just under her ear. She shuddered.

Damn
. Now was not the time. He lightly kissed the skin there, caught the scent of herbs and flowers that he could never pinpoint but was completely hers. He whispered, “Just waiting on a stubborn woman.”

She opened her mouth, but he
pressed his finger against her lips. “Shh. Lay down. Rest. I’ll be back later.”

“
I don’t have time to—”

“
Rest. Lock the door behind me.” He walked out before she said something else. Pale as death, the blood from her nosebleed had stood out starkly on her skin earlier. He shook off the images and waited. “Lock the damned door!” he shouted. He heard the locks slide into place.

Stubborn woman didn
’t begin to cover it.

Mike climbed back into the car.

“
She settled?” St. Cyr asked.

“
No, but she will be,” he said as he clicked his seat belt.

“
We are never going to get home,” St. Cyr said. “I’m so damned tired.”

“
It’s just around the corner. Let’s go check it out.”

“
Cemetery should be closed.”

“
No one ever goes in after hours.”

They parked their car and he wondered if they should be there at all
. The sky was lightning up just a bit, turning pink, and they were going to be climbing in over the walls. The damned place was still locked.

“So now we’re tracking down possible homicides based on women we know claiming to see or hear things from the great beyond,” St. Cyr muttered.
“We could wait until it opens.”

He looked at St. Cyr.
“Yeah, we could, but we know neither one of us is going to do that. Because what if someone really does need our help? What if someone is honestly hurt?”

It took them a bit, but they used
a tree that had clearly been used for this purpose before to climb into the old cemetery. Creepy ass places, cemeteries. He dealt with life and death stuff every day. But there was something that he just didn’t like about cemeteries at dusk and twilight.

“
Where is this fallen DeLuth angel?” he asked.

St. Cyr checked his phone.
“A few rows over, closer to the other side.”

“
Why the hell didn’t we climb over the wall on that damned side?”

“
Because this is the tree everyone uses.”

“
Next time, let me know that climbing walls and tombstones is on the agenda so I’ll wear better shoes.”

“
Boots. You should wear boots and be done with it,” St. Cyr advised.

“
Some of us are more concerned with not busting our asses rather than what we look like. Rip out a knee once and you’ll appreciate using things like athletic shoes for things like, I don’t know, climbing.”

“
You whine too much. Did you really want to sit and wait until they opened the damned place up so you wouldn’t have to climb over a wall? Damn, Killian, you’re getting old. Very old. Old men whine.”

“
Young men do—” he finished.

“
Didn’t you climb into this cemetery at least once? Ever?”

“
I’m not from around here.”

“
Oh yeah, Baton Rouge man. Growing up here, we all did it,” St. Cyr said. “Or most of us did. The Riggios did, all the boys anyway.” St. Cyr frowned. “Sammy never did.”

“
That any of you know of.” Because Sammy wasn’t one to sit idle and let someone tell her what she could and couldn’t do.

“
Yeah, well...”

Who the hell woul
d want to break into a cemetery? He didn’t get it.

“
Oh we had plenty to do. Tried a few séances here. My gran found out and licked into me for opening doors I had no business knocking on and—” St. Cyr broke off. “Well. Damn.”

“
What?”

He looked. There was a fallen angel. And there on the ground in front of her, her white dress absorbing the glowing light, was a woman.
Her hand outstretched. They hurried to the woman. Mike already knew before they reached her. There was a puddle of blood around her, not a large one. The scarf wrapped around her neck was red. Dark red. Blood red.

When they reached the woman, he saw why.
The woman’s neck had been slashed, the scarf tied around it.

“
Damn,” St. Cyr muttered.

Mike scanned the surrounding area.
Nothing moved. Nothing stirred.

The dew on the ground left tendrils of fog as the day lightened, giv
ing the area a more ethereal look.

How the hell had Paige known?

Did she really see ghosts? Or more importantly, why did this woman, or her ghost, seek Paige out?

Paige knew Mike would be here soon. She and Mike did their dance as they always did. Always. And after this morning, she knew he’d be coming here no matter that it was now almost noon and he probably had had no sleep.

He said he’d be back, he’d be back.

Stubborn woman
. Stubborn man was more like it.

He wanted to take things to the next level
, he’d wanted the next level for a while, but the idea sort of freaked her out. She kept people at a distance and she had been fine with that. Though, she was honest enough with herself that it had felt…nice, really nice having him with her this morning.

The first time she’d met him had been at the bakery with St. Cyr who brought him by so they could meet his new partner. She knew there was something between them. She always knew when he was watching her,
liked to see him, loved his smile, felt stupid butterflies when she heard his chuckle. Not long off her divorce, it had been nice when he flirted. He’d become a friend, they saw each other enough after all.

And then there was one night of drunken revelry and really great sex.
Really, really
great sex.

The next morning had brought a hell of a lot of
awkwardness, or freak-out, at least for her. Mike had acted like them sleeping together was perfectly normal. He’d asked her out on a date, she’d stuttered out some excuse. She remembered his smile, one she didn’t see too often, sort of tender, but his eyes had been…determined. Yeah, he was determined.

Probably why she hadn’t been able to shake him.
Or the other times they’d ended up in bed.

This morning
she’d been really glad he was there and though she argued, she was just as glad he’d seen her home.

What they were, she didn
’t really know.

They were more than friends, occasional lovers and…
something. Though she considered him a friend, even a close friend, they didn’t know everything about each other. Not everything. Close, but not all.

She
’d never actually told him about the ghosts. She’d only ever told Sam.

Sam looked at it as an experi
ment. Thus, the journals and recording what she’d been doing, thinking, even her diet. Sam liked to break it all down. The Riggios were an involved family, so they all knew because Sammy couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.

So Paige
wouldn’t have to listen to her best friend, she recorded all she knew from last night, this morning and how she felt.

But Mike kept sliding into her brain.
The man was a distraction.

Waiting on a stubborn woman.

Ideas of what could be, danced evilly in her head. She’d been there before. Men like Mike didn’t go for women like her. Men like Mike were solid, salt of the earth types of guys and tended to steer clear of women who could talk to ghosts.

Tapping her pen against the edge of her journal. The sun had brought the day bright and heavy, it would probably rain.
Then again it was autumn in New Orleans.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her almost nap.

She climbed from her purple couch, checked the peep-hole
, and opened the door.

Mike leaned against the doorjamb looking pale,
with tired red eyes.

“
Come in,” she said stepping back.

“
Babe,” he stepped in, shut the door and pulled her against him, resting his head on the top of hers. She felt his exhale.

“
One of these days,” he muttered.

She started to pull away to ask him what he meant, but instead he tipped her
chin up with his fist. His eyes locked onto hers and she saw something move through them as he studied her face. What, she couldn’t pinpoint and wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

“
Mike?”

“
Shhhh.” He leaned in and against her lips said, “I’ve realized what your problem is, babe.”

“
I don’t have—”

“
Shhh,” he whispered. “You think too much.” He leaned in and nuzzled, then lightly kissed the skin just beneath her ear. “I’ve waited, Paige, but fair warning, I’m tired of waiting.”

“
What?” she asked.

He didn
’t answer. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers scrunching her hair as he had a habit of doing. She saw his eyes flash for one brief millisecond before his mouth descended and he kissed her.

She loved kissing Mike. The man could
kiss
.

His lips started off slow, coaxing, always coaxing her to join him. Her tongue darted out and she licked the seam of h
is lips, pulling his bottom lip between hers for a moment.

His hand at her hip moved to the center of her back, pulling her tight and close as he took over the kiss.
She tasted coffee and Mike and fell as she always did into the moment, into Mike, wrapping her arms around him.

“
There she is,” he said pulling away.

She looked at him, confused.

“
My Paige. She loves when I kiss her, leans into me soft and sweet and, babe, I’m telling you now, this—whatever this is—between us, we’re gonna talk about.” He looked like he was about to fall over.

“
Now?”

“
Babe, I’d love nothing more than to pin you to the door or the wall and fuck us both into sleep. So no, not now.”

She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed as places tingled that already want
ed him.

“
I’m dead on my feet. I need a bed, a couch, I don’t care. But if I don’t get horizontal, I’m sleeping against the damned door.”

He was tired,
and she could see it in his reddened eyes, the stoop of his shoulders.

“
Okay.” She took his hand and led him back to her room. “You can sleep here. I’ll just—”

“
Huh-uh. You’re with me.”

“
But—”

“
With me.” His hand tightened on hers.

She knew that tone.
There were many times she could talk around him, talk him into her way of seeing things. This was not one of those times.

As he undressed, she pulled the blackout curtains darkening the room.
The fan she always had on whirred.

Even as tired as he
clearly was, he didn’t roll over and just go to sleep. He waited on her.

“
I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

“
Yes, you will.”

“
No, I won’t.”

“
Come here.”

She
’d already changed into yoga pants and a tee. Crawling in bed with him, they shifted until she was spooned into the curve of his body, his strong arm over her waist.

“
We’re gonna talk about a lot of things.”

“
She was there?” she finally asked.

He didn
’t answer for a bit.

“
Rest, Paige.”

She slowly released a deep breath and knew what he said.
The woman had been there. They’d found her. If they hadn’t, he’d have been back sooner. And he’d have answered her.

“
You’ve always seen them?” he asked against her hair.

She stilled, then relaxed against him again.
“I guess so, I know it’s weird and…”

“
You’re what Gran calls a medium, babe. If you’ve always seen them, might be a good idea to deal with your gift so it doesn’t deal with you.”

For several minutes she stared at the old photo on her nightstand.

Why her?

“It’s not that easy,” she whispered.

“
It can be if you let it.”

She swallowed.
“Other than Sammy… I don’t know how. How to make it easy.”

He grunted.
“I’ll help with that.”

He gave her a squeeze and she settle
d back into him even more.

* * *

A chill danced
over her skin, waking her. Paige’s back was warm and the arm across her middle holding her tight to the man behind her.

She blinked awake and saw the day was late since the sun no longer slashed through her windows.
She moved her leg and realized she wasn’t wearing her yoga pants anymore.

Mike. At least he left her in her tee and panties.

Careful not to move, not to wake the man behind her, she looked around and saw the woman standing in the shadowed corner of her room.

She shivered and the arm around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to the wall of Mike
’s chest.

“
Why did he hurt me?” the woman’s voice floated to her.

“
I don’t know,” she mouthed.

The woman nodded.
“I wasn’t ready to go. I still had a lot of plans, things to do. I wasn’t ready to die.”

“
I know.” She took a deep breath. Mike’s words from earlier slid into her thoughts
You’re a medium...

So easy sounding.

Was it that easy?

“Can you go?” she asked the woman.

“
Go?” The woman shook her head. “Go where? Where do I go?”

Great question. Really great question. How the hell did she know?

“Into the light?” she tried because really this
medium
stuff was new. Frankly, she didn’t like that word. God, she’d been medicated for her hallucinations and beliefs for years. And now, she was told to deal with it like Mike was telling her to deal with the muggy air of New Orleans. Or the rain. Or hell, the sunshine.

The woman tilted her head and her dark hair sort of wafted around her shoulders, though there was no wind.
The woman grew more solid. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? Go into the light?”

“
Sort of new at this,” she continued to mouth to the woman. “I’ve never…never…guided anyone before.”

“
Figures. In New Orleans where everyone knows they see ghosts and I get the chick that has no clue what she’s doing. Why couldn’t I have gotten a voodoo priestess or something. A witch doctor. It’s freaking New. Or. Leans. Surely someone here knows what do to with the dead.”

Then something warm unfurled in her chest.
“Maybe you’ll be free when he’s caught. Perhaps we can figure out who he is?”

The woman shook her head. “I’ve tried, he’s like…an entity to me. I can sometimes hear him, sometimes see his image
, but it’s not clear. I can’t see his face!” Again, she grew solid, her eyes glowing.

“We’ll figure it out,” Paige told her, wanting to help, but having no idea how.

The woman just leveled a look at her, and the vibrancy that infused her to almost solid drifted away so that she was once again transparent. “He likes to take photos.”

“
Photos?”

“
Of me, of what he was doing. He posed me. I know that. I remember that.”

“
Where did he take you, do you know?”

The woman shook her head.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I just remember the cold, the stone and the angel. I remember the pain.”

“
A room? Were you outside when he was hurting you? Inside? Was it loud? Quiet?”

Her eyes glowed faintly
for a moment. “It was inside, and an old house, I think. Though it was bigger, or the space was because it sort of echoed.”

A big old house? Or a warehouse? Because there we
ren’t enough of those in New Orleans.

“
Help me. Please. He’ll take another. There’s always another,” her voice chilled the room.

Paige
’s breath clouded in the air and she couldn’t hold in the shiver.

“
Babe?” Mike growled into her hair, tightening his arm. He shifted and pulled her with him so that they rolled and she was against his chest.

He tucked his chin and blinked those amazing green eyes open.

“You okay?” he asked, one large hand rubbing up and down her arm.

Paige looked over her shoulder to the darkened corner.

“There are more. So many photos. He likes to take photos.” The words trembled on the air before the woman vanished.

The woman.
She really needed to know her name. What else was she going to call her—the Lady in White? White Lady?

“
What’s her name?” she asked, laying her head back on Mike’s chest.

“
Whose?”