He nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”
She offered him a smile. “I’ll be in and out of the house while I work, but you won’t even notice I’m here. Do I have access to all rooms in your house for a cleansing?” Throughout her training, Argos had instilled the mentality that she was to do her work in silence, not disrupt anything in the house, and make the experience as painless for the clients as possible. The supernatural was a difficult topic for most innocents, who preferred to pretend it didn’t exist.
“Of course. Thank you so much.” Henry still held the banister with a death grip, and her heart went out to the poor guy. It might take a few weeks of no spirit activity for him to truly feel safe in his house again. After seeing her first ghost, she’d slept with her parents for a month straight, terrified of switching off the lights. And then it had taken her a year to get comfortable with realizing that one, the spirits weren’t going to leave her, and two, they wouldn’t harm her. So yeah, she understood the unease of constantly looking over her shoulder, terrified to be alone in her own home. So she’d do everything to help Henry out.
Start with the outside, so nothing inside could escape and later return indoors, was her approach to cleansing a property. And as a final touch, she would leave a guarding spell in the house, a deterrent for any other ghosts that might attempt to make this their home. Yep, she’d do an amazing job and Argos would be beyond impressed and promote her on the spot to full time.
She traipsed around the property filled with oaks, counting the windows. Thirteen. She’d reach the top floor from inside. Two doors and no sheds out the back. A spread of perfect, undisturbed snow covered the yard and the trees lining the rear fence. Returning to the front, she took a small pouch of crushed herbs from her bag, prepared yesterday for the occasion. The moment she opened the fabric pouch, the aroma of basil and cloves filled her senses. Best smell ever. It reminded her of the festive season.
A grunting roar of a motor echoed in the distance. Probably cops chasing a criminal. She grabbed her spray bottle filled with salty water out of her bag. At a window, she sprayed the frame. Under her breath, she murmured, “Salt and herbs. Cleanse away the spirits. Guard well this home.”
Again, the distinct shriek of a motor grew louder, grating on her nerves. Over her shoulder, the street remained calm. No cars, and no one was outside, either. Just the motorcycle noise disturbing the peace. She expected it where she lived, but not here.
She hooked the spray bottle onto her belt and sprinkled a pinch of herbs into her palm. “With this small token, I banish all spirits from this residence.” A slight snap of energy rolled through her lungs. With a deep exhale, she blew the contents across the window, and they sparked on contact. Perfect.
Except, when she looked through the window and into the room, a dark figure, twice her size and black as death, stared down at her with yellowish eyes.
She recoiled, a chill rising through her stomach and clinging to her ribs. The thing just stood there. Staring. Unmoving. Its form was like static, flicking between being solid and transparent as if it couldn’t hold its shape. This didn’t look like the typical ghosts she’d encountered that were transparent and gray. The fear she’d experienced on seeing her first spirit was nothing compared to this. She gasped for air, her mind emptying as she drowned in a terrorizing straitjacket. What is that?
A sudden screech of skidding tires boomed behind her. She spun, then froze, as a huge guy on a motorcycle hit the curb, and then both he and the bike were thrown upward and forward—headed straight in her direction.
“Fuck!”
The guy rolled sideways and was throw off his bike. The thing landed on its side, momentum sending it sliding across the lawn straight for Cyra.
Panic chocked her, and she shuddered.
The biker was already on his feet, running toward her, his arms flailing about, screaming, “Run!”
But it all happened so fast. Her world blurred as she inhaled her last breath, tensing. Her brain screamed at her to run, but her feet were cemented to the ground and her reflexes shot. All she imagined was the heavy bike crushing her legs and pinning her to the house.
Chapter 2
Gunn
“Fuck!” Gunn tossed his helmet aside and sprinted toward the doe-eyed beauty he’d come to check on. Using the skills he’d honed as a hunter, he kept up with his sliding bike.
He unclipped the cylinder rod from his belt—the one he used to trap and exorcise demons. With a click at its base, the weapon extended to four feet and released a loop, which was blessed with holy water to send beasts into Hell. The bike’s momentum was being slowed by the shrubs, but it would still hit Cyra if she didn’t move.
“Get out of the way,” he yelled, forging closer, his boots striking the snow-covered lawn. He pictured her pinned to the wall, her legs broken. Her brother would murder him and he’d never forgive himself. His heart raced.
He flung the lasso toward Cyra, the loop catching her raised arm. With two hands, he yanked her aside.
She stumbled sideways, tripping over her feet, yelping as she fell to the ground. His Kawasaki slammed into the house, a breath’s whisper behind Cyra.
The collision was deafening, and he cringed. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Fear throttled him. He lunged to her side, crouching alongside her, and cupped a cheek. “Cyra! Talk to me.”
Her gray eyes were filled with terror. Her silver hair blended in with the snow around her pale face. Snowflakes tumbled onto her cheeks. She cranked her neck up and stared at the motorcycle, inches from her boots, and back
