here.”
“Okay, say for a second, she does. How does that help us?”
“Don’t you see? If she knows we’re here, and we can communicate with her, maybe she can find a spell to reverse what’s been done.”
“Too dangerous.” Derrick shook his head. “Clarissa is still out there. I won’t put our mate in danger like that.”
“Really? Has it occurred to you that Jenna might be in danger anyway, and if she is, we’re stuck here unable to help.”
“Fuck.” Derrick looked at Jenna and felt a helpless fury at the thought she could be hurt. It was his duty to protect her.
“Exactly. We need to try.”
“Fine then. What do we do?”
Mark sighed loudly. “I’m going to probably regret saying this, but we need to get her attention. Get her to look into our disappearance.”
Derrick grinned. “By any means possible?”
“Yes,” said Mark through gritted teeth.
Derrick rubbed his hands gleefully. “Well then, unless you plan to join me, I’ve got some pleasurable work to do.”
To Derrick’s surprise, Mark stayed, reminding him of the days before their captivity. The call of their mate was too strong for even him to deny.
Jenna woke again from another strange and erotic dream. One that left her aching for a man’s touch. Even more embarrassing, it had featured two men, doing things to her that in the light of day seemed decadent and immoral-in other words, exciting.
What is wrong with me? Since when is one man not enough? Disturbing questions she couldn’t answer.
Jenna swung her legs out of bed and surveyed her new, even if it was exceedingly masculine, bedroom. She planned to renovate it slowly over time, doing most of the work herself. She loved getting her hands dirty, and after the mess she’d left behind, it was also a form of therapy.
Speaking of which, maybe a coat of paint would help dissipate her sense of not being alone in the house.
Like when she’d climbed the ladder to peel some wallpaper and the stupid thing tilted, dumping her. She should have hit the ground hard, but a cold air pillow had softened her fall.
Or the way doors sometimes creaked open at her approach. The first time she’d screamed, but the cool draft that preceded the event made her decide it was simply an air pressure thing.
When she showered, no matter how hot the water, her skin pimpled as if cold, and ghostly fingers stroked her.
Then there were the erotic dreams featuring two men: dark haired, dark eyed, and with some seriously hot bodies. No one she’d ever met-unfortunately.
But by far the oddest thing, she swore she sometimes heard voices, arguing voices. And the most fucked-up part? The voices sounded like they were fighting over her. Until lately. Now, the voices seemed to have one purpose in mind: seducing her.
Crazy, yes, but until she’d moved to her new house, she’d never suffered from delusions. So, if she were to assume she hadn’t suddenly lost her mind, what did that leave?
Even as she tried to come up with logical explanations, her mind kept drifting to movies like
About to head downstairs for breakfast, she instead zoned in on the chain hanging from the ceiling at the far end of the second floor hallway.
Perhaps she’d find the answers hidden in the attic.
Once the attic was lit again, she was surrounded by a veritable treasure trove, if you were into history, and she was. Several dusty trunks lay scattered. There were odds and end of furniture like two vinyl kitchen chairs and an old wooden vanity. But the dust-free boxes-obviously more recent additions-garnered her attention.
She sat down and delved into the first box. It held a bunch of picture frames, seemingly of a family. There was a woman with long, loose hair flanked by two men whose resemblance made them brothers, if not twins. In front of them stood a pair of identical little boys, one with a smile that spelled mischief, the other more serious. Picture after picture displayed the boys in different stages of growth. In some, the boys posed with two very large wolf-like dogs. Probably a crossbreed since wolves were too wild to be domesticated. Right?
What nagged her was how familiar the boys seemed.
Jenna wiped grubby hands on her jeans and clambered down the ladder, then down the steps to see who had finally come calling.
When she opened the door to find her first casserole thrust at her, Jenna smiled and just managed to stop herself from giggling.
The welcome wagon had arrived.
The welcome wagon hadn’t stayed long. They’d come in for coffee and peered around with curiosity, but when one of the familiar drafts had flowed through the room and touched them, they’d set down their cups with a rattle and made their excuses as if they’d seen a ghost.
Thinking about the house made her decide to go into town. She hit the hardware store first and picked out some paint for the bedroom. She placed the lilac color in her car then walked down the sidewalk to the grocery store. A Halloween decoration fluttering in the breeze caught her eye and she stopped.
Ghosts. Could the townsfolk be right?
She wanted to scoff. Seriously, lingering spirits? Jenna was a practical woman, not an impressionable young girl. Yet, the evidence kept mounting in front of her and only made her more curious. Who had owned the house before her? Axe murderers? Satanists? Who was the builder? Had they followed code? Perhaps it had plumbing problems. She knew it had drafts. As for the vivid dreams and hallucinations, perhaps she should have a mold specialist check the place for toxicity. But ghosts?
Jenna pushed thoughts of ghosts to the back of her mind and bought some food. As she stowed her groceries in the trunk, she decided to get some answers. She headed to the large stone building that housed the municipal offices, court, and town library.
She stepped from the bright sunlight into the gloomy library and blinked. Then sneezed. The musty, dusty smell of old books tickled her nose.
Jenna looked around. Where to start?
“Can I help you, dearie?”
Jenna jumped and turned till she located the source of the voice. Standing behind a massive wooden desk, the librarian looked like she should have retired fifty years ago. Frail and hunched with pure white hair tethered in a
