Table of Contents

Title - The Misplaced

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Other Works Available

About the Author

Death Lies Between Us

More From Jody A. Kessler

On the Back Cover

The Misplaced

An Angel Falls Novella

Ghost Hunting

with

Chris Abeyta

Jody A. Kessler

Copyright

© 2017 by Jody A. Kessler

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”

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www.JodyAKessler.com

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Edited by

M. Robitille

Cover Art & Design by

Laura Moyer

Ebooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

To the seekers, dreamers, and misfits.

Chapter One

“RISE AND SHINE, porcupine.”

Chris cracked open sleep encrusted eyes. “Can I help you?” His throat rasped, and his body groaned, begging to return to sleep.

“I don’t know, but I definitely want to find out.”

The amount of perkiness in her voice made Chris cringe and wish he slept with earplugs.

“Come again?” He glanced at the clock on his dresser. Four-fourteen a.m. As an early riser, this should not have been quite such a shock to his system. But he went to bed late after a grueling night of spiritual cleansing, and an unexpected battle with a particularly spiteful ghost, at the local pool hall. Professional ghost hunter and shaman, Chris Abeyta, was dog-tired, bushed, and mentally unprepared for… anything that didn’t involve staring at the back of his eyelids.

Rolling over, he ignored his visitor. His exhausted mind and body deserved one full night’s rest. More like a year’s worth of sleep. He’d settle for eight hours. The soul residing within him, however, could not ignore the woman standing over the bed. A feminine and luminous quality, added to captivating eyes, taunted his sleep-addled brain. Perhaps he only imagined the halo of light surrounding her abundant hair. What color is her hair? Black? No, not black, burgundy? No, not that either. Darker than auburn, but not black. Damn. Thinking clearly on two hours of sleep is not happening.

“Yoo-hoo,” she sang.

The attention getter registered but didn’t make him turn over and face her.

“Not yet.” Chris didn’t know if the grumble was spoken aloud or not. He didn’t care. He needed to decipher the exact color of her hair. Why her eyes looked so painfully familiar. In his current state of bone-deep exhaustion these details seemed absolutely vital before abandoning the comfort of his mattress. Chestnut? Sable? A cross between the two. That's it. Blackened chestnut. There. He’d done it. Solved yet another mystery. Now, about those eyes. Brown? He thought so. He’d been so fixed on the waves of shiny blackened chestnut that her eye color didn’t stick. It might be the distraction of her eyebrows. Sculpted, sleek, and expressive. Yes, the eyebrows perfectly complimented the hair. Lips, nose, cheekbones. They accentuated each other on a sensual and attractive oval face. He hadn’t thought any female remarkably beautiful since meeting Juliana Crowson. Sure, he appreciated a feminine figure and a nice smile here or there, but no one ever stood out enough to garner a second look.

Chris liked bachelorhood. Not only liked it but preferred it. He and women were at odds. No. That wasn’t totally accurate. He and people, in general, were at odds. It was a choice he made daily, but in actuality more a genetic default or birth inheritance. When Chris Abeyta entered this world, Great Spirit took one look at him and declared, “This one. The chubby-cheeked vibrant son of Sherman White Wolf Abeyta will be gifted many powerful medicines to be used for healing. He will have clear vision and insights into the ghost worlds. He will use his gifts to help those who suffer, and assist others who need help finding the Good Red Road.”

Nowhere did Great Spirit mention people skills or a getting along with the human race. It showed. Chris could hardly stand being with himself, let alone anyone else. Particularly those who made life more challenging. So, pretty much everyone, in every conceivable way. He grew up as a solitary participant. He learned to become a shaman from his father and made a few friends along the way. A father and friends he rarely ever saw. Keeping his distance benefitted everyone, especially him. He tolerated his clients only long enough to aid their spiritual needs. He would deal with a haunting, perform a ceremony, or do whatever else they needed from him. Most of the time, Chris just wanted to be left alone.

Juliana was the only friend he made since returning home from University — almost four years ago. If he could call her a friend. One friend every four years. The thought plagued him. Sixteen years from now, a handful of people would bother him on a regular basis. It’s time to cut someone loose, he thought.

It would not be Juliana. His apprentice needed more training. Somehow, Juliana Crowson managed to wedge herself into his life and obliterate his better judgment. She had intrigued him at first. Not just because of her looks and her half-Native bloodline, but also her natural abilities to see and hear the afterlife and its occupants. She had absolutely no inkling of what to do with her gifts. The danger she put herself in astounded Chris. He couldn’t stand by and let her be killed. She surely would have been if he hadn’t intervened. His lessons with Juliana on the afterlife progressed slowly, but steadily, and he was satisfied with her development. Last night, she proved again her willingness to be scared witless, yet do as instructed, to bring balance and harmony to the spirit world.

“Listen up, Sleeping Beauty. I understand the need to sleep it off. Believe me, I do. I’ve been hung-over a time or two myself, but there's no time for a morning cuddle and a long chat over coffee. Get up right now or I’m going to make you!”

He shoved all thoughts concerning Juliana aside. The mystery woman demanding his attention rose to the forefront. Chris groaned again, and the reverberation traveled through his body all the way down to his toes.

Last night should have gone a whole lot smoother. When he’d been in the attic above the pool hall, the spirit he’d been chasing led him straight to a section amidst the rafters that had no floorboards. Chris hadn’t seen it. He was too busy casting the varmint into the hereafter to pay attention to the missing floor. Falling and banging his shin on a joist had been unfortunate. Hitting his head on the rafters had just been humiliating, and painful. The impish ghost thought it rather hilarious.

The case had been interesting. Chris wanted to take the time to ponder over the unusual details of what transpired last night. In the past, the billiard hall and bar had never seen any spiritual or otherworldly trouble. Chris wanted to know what had changed. It could be as simple as a patron bringing a nasty spirit with them into the building, but Chris’s instincts told him otherwise. Something seemed out of sorts. He needed to figure it out. Otherwise, the owners of the building might be calling him back. Not that he failed to send the mischievous spirit to the afterlife. He succeeded, and Juliana gained valuable hands-on experience. When he finally left sometime after midnight, he didn’t have the sense of closure that normally went with a completed job.

All that would need to wait. Sleeping off the headache was his first priority. That, too, should fall to the wayside, as far as his unexpected visitor was concerned. Four more hours of rest would make life bearable. Was it really too much to ask? Didn’t this woman come with a built-in snooze button? How about a mute switch?

Chris smelled cigarette smoke and determined he had to be dreaming. She wouldn’t light up inside his cabin, would she? That level of disrespect and bad manners? Unthinkable, and unheard of in his personal space. It was a dream. A dream where he remembered the smell of the smoking lounge at the back of the pool hall last night.

“Beep…beep…beep…beep!”

Chris launched himself out of bed and saw his uninvited guest standing on the corner of his mattress holding a lit cigarette up to the smoke detector. The piercing wail penetrated every cell in his fatigued body and made his ears cry for relief. She brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaled, and blew a long stream of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Told you I’d make you get up.” She jumped down from the bed before Chris could snatch the cigarette from her impudent fingers. The cigarette had the distinct spicy scent of clove mixed with tobacco. No matter. He still didn’t like it or want it in his house.

Mystery woman scooted out of the room, and he didn’t pursue her. Instead, he reached up and jammed the tip of his finger against the minuscule button to shut off the alarm.

With a sigh that didn’t relieve his exasperation, exhaustion, or impatience, he glanced out the bedroom window and saw nothing but the blessed dark. The dark he longed to return to in the form of sleep.

“We’re running out of time, sleepy head,” she called from the direction of his living room.

“Time for what?” he said with no enthusiasm and the barest minimum of curiosity.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Saving souls and protecting the planet.”

Chris didn’t bother looking for her before changing into a pair of cargo pants and a fresh shirt. He shuffled down the hall wondering if she continued to pollute his cabin with her cigarette. He no longer smelled it, but more importantly, he wanted to know why she showed up there at all. The woman, with the wildly curly multi-colored hair, was not in his living room when he entered.

“You may need your medicine bag,” she said from behind him.

Chris spun one-eighty and headed to the back of the cabin to his sunroom and workroom.

“Explain yourself.”

His unnamed guest perused the workbench and had her nose stuck in the top of a jar of copal.

“I always enjoyed burning copal. It’s a necessity for someone like myself.”

“Who are you?” Chris asked.

“A girl who needs your help. We really don’t have time for jibber-jabber. Grab your tools and let’s get out of here.”

“Refusing to answer will only force me to make you leave. Your behavior is unacceptable.”

She set the jar down and turned a beguiling gaze on him. Chris refused to be bewitched by this stunning woman in his sunroom. Her face might be appealing and her body attractive, nearly every curve highlighted in her tight stretch pants and a long sweater, but it would take a lot more than physical beauty to persuade him to blindly follow. So far, she had not provided any reason to go with her.

“You need to take me back to the pool hall. Now. Before someone gets hurt.”

“Did you follow me home?”

“No. I mean yes, and no. I don’t know.”

Confusion tangled with apprehension on her face. Chris didn’t like seeing either emotion. “What is your name?”

“Naomi Hutson.”

He knew she wasn’t lying. Chris always knew when someone lied to him. Auras gave them away, and if there were no aura because they belonged to the ethereal realm, he still read their eyes and their body language. Even if her answers were obscure, she was honest about her name.

“I did not see you at Jack’s Corner Pocket.” The pool hall and smoking club had been busy, but Chris would have noticed her. He considered it part of his job as a ghost hunter and shaman to pay attention to everything in his domain when working a case. Not to mention, this woman stood out. She would ping on his radar immediately.

She shrugged as if to say, not her problem, but the solemn pleading in her eyes couldn’t be ignored.

“The entire town is in danger, Mr. Abeyta. I’m in grave danger. We need your help, and we need it now.”

Chapter Two

URGENCY PROPELLED Chris from where he stood rooted to the plank flooring of his workroom to the front of his cabin. He perched on the edge of his recliner and shoved his feet inside the boots he only unlaced a few hours earlier. Naomi stood like a sentinel near the front door waiting for him. Chris stumbled outside, sleep deprived and dragging. They climbed into his Toyota pickup truck and drove into town.

“This is better, isn’t it? We’re on the move. Just a pagan girl and a cranky shaman off to save the day.”

From the sound of it, her mood had lightened ten thousand percent. She forgot her somber doom and gloom. Chris glanced sideways and contemplated kicking her out of the cab. At this time of day, severe and apocalyptic was much easier to handle than cheerful. He had not forgotten or dismissed her comments inside the cabin. Combined with what she’d said, she leaned heavily toward a chipper and perky personality. This would not do. Couldn’t he return to the billiard hall alone? It would make things so much easier.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said with no prompting.

So, he wasn’t the only one inside the truck with the uncanny ability to know what someone was thinking.

“You are leaving out important details about why you’re dragging me away from my house in the pre-dawn hours.”

“I’d tell you if I knew. Just keep driving. I have a gut feeling we’ll both know the details shortly.”

“Know what?”

“That’s just it. I don’t always know what’s going to happen. Just that something is going to happen.”

“You’re an empath without clairvoyance,” he said in an attempt to understand who she was.

“I guess you could call it that. I always thought of myself as a witch with a curious amount of off-the-wall skills.”

“Witch? As in Wicca or Halloween?”

“Neither. Now stop asking about me. We have to save them. It’s up ahead.”

“Jack’s Corner Pocket is still a few miles from here.”

“It is?” Her confused expression was back.

“Yes,” Chris said. His inner guidance also sensed an interruption in the awakening of the new day.

Vigilant, spiritually open, and searching, he slowed the truck.

“There!” she said pointing.

Chris sensed the ethereal distortion the same time she did. The pickup veered, and he parked curbside.

“What is it?” she asked.

Chris refrained from answering, grabbed the door handle, and pushed it open. The reek of rotten eggs from sulfur mingled with other minerals assaulted his nose as he stared into a darkened vacant lot next to some retail shops. He ventured toward the empty lot, squinting into the dark and reassessed his previous observation of the brick building next door. One streetlight glowed at the corner of the intersection, and shops waited, boarded up for demolition. Chris tried to remember the last time he visited this part of town and couldn’t recall when it was.

“Look at that!” Naomi stabbed a finger toward the back of the empty lot.

She strolled across the construction site to the spot that first captured their attention. Chris followed, taking a little more care to stay alert and aware of their surroundings. He glanced up and down the street, but no one was around at this time of day. Naomi took the lead. Chris followed with little thought regarding the obstructing security fence. Not much security to it, he thought as he slipped under the chain holding the gate closed. A small excavator sat parked next to a skid steer, their steel buckets encrusted with dried mud. The fence he promptly ignored was there to protect the expensive machinery more than the torn up ground below his boots. He would make a quick otherworldly assessment and leave.

The lot bordered a tributary of the San Juan River. As he neared the rear of the property, creek water rushed at the bottom of the rocky embankment. Side by side, Chris and Naomi observed the construction site and the beginnings of what looked like a new foundation. Ditches crisscrossed the lot for the infrastructure — whether that was underground sewage lines or gas, Chris didn’t know. As they stood there, he understood why Great Spirit had compelled him to pull over and park the truck.

Chris and Naomi stared at the gaping hole in the ground for countless silent seconds. Each caught up in their own thoughts about what lay in front of them. Near the bottom of one trench, a thin spray of water shot six feet into the air from what looked like a broken pipe. The torrent of Earth energy pouring out of the trench couldn’t be ignored. It engulfed them in a cloud of steam so dense with ethereal energy the air seemed to vibrate and hum. The pungent smell of the mineral spring water clung to the tiny droplets hanging in the atmosphere around them.

“Looks like someone hit a branch of the geothermal hot springs.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Chris made a non-specific sound rather than answering.

The area in Southwest Colorado where he lived was well known for its natural hot springs and geothermal activity. Most of the town’s businesses used this resource as a natural way to heat the buildings in winter. Swimming and soaking in the local pools were favorite pastimes for the residents of the mountain community, and for thousands of visitors each year. People traveled to his town from all over the world to experience the mineral-rich healing waters.

For Chris, the mineral springs were sacred. Their therapeutic and medicinal benefits could not be compared to any other healing method. When he used the spring water in a healing ceremony, he chose with immense care the source of the spring water. The underground network of rivers and streams was complex, and he had meditated on it many times. Each source where the hot watered surfaced yielded different qualities in the water. The medicine man inside him understood the individual springs had a specific purpose and use. Chris respected the healing water and the unique geothermal activity in the area, and he also understood how much things could change with the development of the town. He glared at the new leak as the sacred water cut a path through the freshly excavated dirt to join the tributary stream a few meters away. Brooding over this find was inevitable, but Chris could not tamp down the thrill of discovery.

“This is why I’m here!” Naomi gushed. She twirled in the mist like a child playing in a sprinkler.

“Here specifically in this town, or more of an existential ‘here’?” Chris asked.

She laughed. The sound of it danced through the morning air like small birds singing to the rising sun. “This town! I traveled across the country looking for vortices, and this is the mother vortex! Do you feel it? The surge of energy is incredible. The Earth is alive and amazing!”

Chris definitely felt the vortex, but he wasn’t as thrilled with the place of power as she was. Yes, it surged through him and around him. The vibrations in his body rose exponentially from standing so close to it.

“You should dance with me. Dancing brings up your energy level. I think I’ll be flying in another few seconds. I can’t believe I finally found a natural point of power — like really found it. Not above, or near it, but right freaking here! The water magnifies the energy, doesn’t it?”

Chris continued to inspect the ground and the broken pipe. The sky began to lighten in the east, but where they stood remained dark beneath the shadow of the building next door, and the cottonwood trees lining the narrow creek. He held up an LED flashlight on his keychain and shined it into the trench. Whoever dug the ditch had no clue as to what lay beneath. From the sloppy quick-crete surrounding the pipe with a leaking cap, he thought it a botched job all around. Chris pulled his phone out of his vest pocket and took some pictures. The hair rose on his forearms, and he pocketed the phone.

“Someone is coming,” he said.

Naomi looked over her shoulder at the street. They saw no approaching vehicles, but Chris heard it or more like felt the vibration through the soles of his boots. A truck, he intuitively knew. Instinct kicked in, and he took a step toward the gate.

“Lay low for a minute,” Naomi said. “No one’s going to see us way over here.”

“I disagree,” Chris said. “Let’s go now. I’ve seen enough.”

“I’m not done.” Instead of following Chris, she edged closer to the trench and tiptoed along the side until she reached the end. Naomi scrambled over a mound of dirt and disappeared.

“Naomi, I am ready to go,” Chris tried again.

“I want to see something,” she said in the dark.

The fluff of her curls bobbed away as she moved closer to the stream flowing behind the property. If something visceral weren't urging him to get out of sight, he would have followed her. The leaking hot spring ran toward the creek. He wanted to check on the damage from the other side of the ditch and embankment, but not now. Chris assumed Naomi wanted to see the same thing, but he didn’t know her and didn’t have time to ask. His sixth sense told him the approaching truck was almost there. He skirted across the construction site and ducked behind the excavator just in time to avoid headlights flashing across the lot. Torn between following Naomi and slipping back through the gap in the fence, his hesitation allowed him to watch the work truck pull in front of the gate and stop.

Chris looked back for Naomi but found no sign of her. Just as she said, it was impossible to see where they had been standing. He wished Naomi were next to him so they could go to Jack’s Corner Pocket, the location they had originally been headed. Darn woman. What did she think she was doing? She insisted on returning to the pool hall at this absurdly early hour and then disappeared.

The door on the pickup truck opened, and a man stepped out. Chris watched from behind the excavator as he unlocked the chain and swung the gate open. The headlights shone his way, and he ducked as the truck drove onto the dirt lot. Listening to the diesel engine rumble while keeping low to the ground, he crept behind the skid steer, prepared to stay in the shadows and slip away unseen. Since foxes are the masters of camouflage, he called the fox’s spirit medicine to conceal him from the men in the truck.

The engine quieted, and the doors opened and closed. Two men exited, a driver and one other. Chris paused as a flashlight beam briefly lit the vortex and the ditch. The style of the truck made Chris think they came to repair the broken pipe. Multiple concerns ran through his head. The situation didn’t add up. Why work before sunrise? Why did the construction site have an aura about it that figuratively stunk? What part did Naomi play in this? Most importantly, why was Chris guided here to repair what they opened?

Of course, he knew the answer. The energy vortex was too powerful. As soon as he stepped foot on the ground outside his pickup, he felt the overwhelming rush of Earth energy. Vortices were a natural phenomenon that occurred around the globe. The land around Sedona, Arizona being one of the most well-known locations. These natural places of energetic power were also in balance with the Earth. Remaining in harmony with the planet is a key element to survival, at least survival in a healthy manner. The destruction of this lot and rerouting the mineral spring had obvious consequences in Chris’s eyes. Although the energy had a positive effect as it erupted from the ground, somewhere else was a polar opposite effect happening to balance this sudden shift.

“She’s a traveler. It comes from her father’s blood.”

Chris slanted his gaze toward Talks to the Wind, his irregular spirit guide. Talks to the Wind came and went on his own schedule. He wasn’t overly helpful as spirit guides go. Chris never turned down guidance from his ancestors, but Talks to the Wind’s advice rarely pertained to the situation at hand.

“Are you speaking about Naomi?” he whispered.

Talks to the Wind grinned and waggled thin brows. “She is an interesting blend of red, yellow, and dark skinned peoples. It makes for one nice-looking woman. A little narrow in the hips, but she’s young. Her hips will widen with age. Then you will have a woman every warrior will want for himself. This is a good, and a bad thing. Maybe you should find an ugly woman that matches your homely face. Then you won’t have to worry about losing her to someone better looking than you.”

Talks to the Wind needed to stop speaking. This conversation served absolutely no purpose. Not only did Chris have other things on his mind, but discussing Naomi’s looks and availability was irrelevant and inappropriate.

Chris narrowed his gaze and wished he’d stop running his mouth or leave. Either option would let Chris concentrate on getting out of there. Now wasn’t a good time to catch up with Talks to the Wind or discuss the physical attributes of his… client?

Was Naomi a client? He supposed so. They hadn’t officially discussed hiring Chris, but in his line of work, every case was unique. The business end of things was often the last priority. Unsurprisingly, evicting ghosts, calming down poltergeists and assisting lost souls were the main concern. Chris would be paid for his time and expenses in some form or fashion after he took care of the ghost or other disturbance. Enough money found its way into his bank account to keep his bills paid. When a special circumstance called for it, he traded or bartered for services and goods. The cycle of life kept him going, as it had for his father and his father’s father.

With hair braided and wearing his buckskins, Talks to the Wind looked like he walked right out of the past. Chris gathered from previous conversations that his guide lived with the Utes long before the European settlers came to this part of America. However, Talks to the Wind had traveled between the spirit world and the physical world for many generations. The Ute brave knew modern customs, spoke English and had an eye for beautiful women — particularly those with dark hair and voluptuous figures.

Since the man would continue to expound on the subject of women if Chris didn’t steer the conversation in the direction he wanted, he asked, “What are these men doing here?”

Occasionally, Talks to the Wind would supply something useful to Chris. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Chris would remember why he liked his guide. Since Chris was born, too many spirits to count had assisted him in one way or another. Why or when wasn’t always obvious. Four ancient medicine men had been with him since birth and Talks to the Wind started showing up around the age of fifteen. Chris accepted this part of his life as normal just as he accepted his height or hair color.

“How am I supposed to know who they are? I show up and see a beautiful lady by the creek in the first light of day. Then you are taking a leak by this tractor, and I think, hey, this must be Chris’s new mate. And I don’t understand how but you scored a good woman.”

“Excuse me. I was not urinating when you arrived.”

“I know my own eyes. It is no matter. You waited until she was away down the bank. I don’t know all your ways of this day and age, but I understand men and women take care of the personal stuff in private.”

“Can we discuss modern customs another time?” Chris’s patience was evaporating rapidly. He stared hard at the fence and spotted a different gap between a section of chain link and the brick building next door. The space appeared wide enough to squeeze through.

“What?” Talks to the Wind asked innocently, yet a hint of accusation was obvious. “You don’t think I have anywhere else to be? I have stuff, you know. I stay by your side because you need me. Why else would I be here?”

Chris changed tactics on a whim. Not that anything really happened spontaneously with Chris. He always made decisions from careful thought, even if those thoughts raced at lightning speed. “Can you watch those men for me and tell me what they’re doing?”

“Whoa there, brother. I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “Don’t you feel the power rising from our Earth Mother? I won’t step my moccasins any closer than where we stand. It’s not in my good health. I can’t believe my spirit doctor would ask such a thing.”

That’s it. Chris’s patience ran out. Keeping his face neutral as to not let his spirit guide see his lack of staying power, he stared past Talks to the Wind at the men unloading tools and supplies from the back of their truck. Chris thought now was as good a time as any to leave unobserved.

The time he wasted with Talks to the Wind allowed the sun to rise a few degrees. The sky was closer to gray than black, and Chris could see all the way across the lot now. He continued to utilize the fox medicine and visualized himself blending in with the ground and the brick building next door.

To his dismay, Talks to the Wind stayed on Chris’s heels. “What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you home sleeping by the fire?”

Chris focused on the fence ahead and ignored his tail. The gap was narrower than he first thought. He shot a glance down the fence line at the open gate, but that would be too obvious. Even using the fox medicine, he thought he pushed the limit by walking in plain sight. Daylight had not quite arrived, but the ash gray light brightened by the minute. He shoved the fencepost aside giving him an extra inch, flinched at the clink of the chain links, and slipped through the gap. Sly as a fox sneaking out of the hen house, he vanished into the deeper shadow of a doorway in the condemned building. Chris stilled his breath and listened. Talks to the Wind stopped the chitchat and appeared to be on the lookout, watching around the corner. Perhaps his guide had arrived for a reason after all.

The spirit guide shook his head in a dismissive way. “Didn’t hear a thing. They’re shoveling dirt. That is going to get them nowhere fast. Too much water is flowing out of there. They need to fire up that machinery. Wait.” Talks to the Wind leaned forward, squinting into the gloom. “One of them is headed over to where we were just standing. He’s climbing inside the big machine. The other one jumped down into the ditch.”

Chris heard enough. His truck was parked one door down, and he was doubly glad it was not directly in front of the lot. Naomi still didn't reappear. He refused to worry about her. She found him with no forewarning. She wouldn’t listen when he told her to leave. If she followed the creek downstream, maybe she would meet him on the street. Who knew? That was what he would have done in her shoes. Staying close to the building, he hurried down the sidewalk and jumped inside his pickup, careful not to slam the door. Talks to the Wind sat beside him in the cab.

“Will you find Naomi? Then come back and tell me where she is.”

“I told you I cannot get any closer to the vortex. It is like the negative pole of a magnet pushing me away.”

Chris sighed and stuck his key in the ignition. Arguing with a spirit, especially this spirit, was an exercise in futility.

“I saw the look you gave me,” he said. “You don’t understand my predicament. It’s dangerous out there. I am an enlightened being.” Talks to the Wind stared out the windshield toward the construction site and sighed. “For you, my brother, I’ll go and take a look. But I may tell her to find a man who doesn’t let his woman wander off alone.”

Chris’s jaw tightened as he strained not to succumb to the goading. Talks to the Wind had to be his least favorite guide, and he didn’t fully comprehend why Great Spirit continued to push this relationship on him.

Talks to the Wind grinned wide enough to split his round face. “You never laugh at my jokes. It makes me want to stop trying so hard.”

“Your efforts are wasted on me,” Chris said truthfully. He also noted that Talks to the Wind continued to sit in the truck rather than do what Chris asked.

“Your lack of humor is funny for one of us. You should see your face right now. I think you would crack like a stone if you ever tried to smile.”

“Can you find Naomi now?”

“One smile first. Come on. I'm sure you can do it.”

Chris was starting to hate this guy. It took a lot to move Chris to such an extreme emotion. Talks to the Wind was reaching a level of annoyance Chris hadn’t experienced in a long time. Why didn’t Naomi just show herself, or come out from wherever she was?

“You laughed one time. You were seventeen years old. I bet Great Spirit marked the event on his moon calendar.”

“Get out,” Chris said dryly.

“I’ll go, but only because I need to get away from the power surge. It’s stronger now.”

Talks to the Wind disappeared from the passenger seat. Chris leaned back and hoped the tinted windows and the last of the morning dimness kept him hidden. He pulled out his cell phone and considered reporting his suspicions to his friend at the police department, Officer Howe. Errol Howe trusted and respected Chris’s opinion, but not everyone at the sheriff’s department did. Unless there was an obvious crime being committed, Chris generally only spoke to Errol. He slid the phone into his vest pocket and waited one last minute for Naomi.

Chris’s intuition never failed him. If he actually bothered to listen rather than silently curse Talks to the Wind’s existence, he would have heard his gut telling him to start the engine and get out of there ten minutes earlier. Instead, he startled as someone tapped on his window. Before he had a chance to respond, the door yanked open, and Chris’s world went black.

Chapter Three

GHOST HUNTER? What had she been thinking? Naomi was experiencing serious regrets about her decision to seek out this guy’s help. If there was one thing in the world she couldn’t handle, it was the undead. And there Chris stood, last night at the billiard hall. A man who specialized in the field of ghosts, spirits, and the unexplainable. Chris Abeyta arrived late last night at the request of her manager. He and his assistant were supposed to rid the place of rather a mischievous and crafty ghost.

Uh-uh. No way. No how. If she knew Jack’s was haunted, she never would have applied for a job. Naomi’s travel expenses had been higher than she anticipated and she needed quick cash. Cocktail waitressing at a pool hall fit the bill. Plus, Jack and his manager, Lou — short for Louise — paid under the table. Naomi appreciated the cash without having to fuss over paperwork. She didn’t intend to stay in town long, so what was the point in making her employment official.

There had been no problems regarding the supernatural during her first week. She served drinks and delivered bottles of beer and baskets of fries to the pool players. During her fifth night on the job, she decided that spending a month or two in the mountain town would be a great experience. She could save up a few bucks, repair her car, and head to the desert in search of the next energy vortex when the snow started piling up. She was content with her decision and feeling comfortable at her new job. The last thing Naomi ever expected was to be smack-dab in the middle of an episode of Paranormal Adventures, or whatever the popular ghost hunting television shows were called. She wouldn’t know. Naomi refused to watch anything that freaked her out. It was all too real for her and would cause months of nightmares. No, thank you.

A couple of hours after she clocked in for the night, the cook began accusing the bartender and waitresses of stealing food and rearranging the prep table. No one knew a thing about it. Soon after, the cook entered the walk-in cooler, and the shelves emptied themselves onto the floor. He exited the cooler and found every kitchen knife in the room standing on end above the counter as if gravity no longer existed. Carlos shared a few choice words and decided he no longer needed the job. Lou called the owner, Jack. Then her manager dialed some “ghost hunter” who lived in town, and Chris Abeyta arrived shortly after that.

Naomi steered clear of the kitchen excitement and tried to ignore the hushed whispers passing between her bartender and her manager, but she caught the gist of it. She considered offering to help, but ghosts really weren’t her forte. Naomi could cast a spell for protection, and she could probably rid the building of one misplaced ghost, but she didn’t want to. The heart attack moments and the dangers involved were not worth it. Her craft was more suited to love and abundance potions. She could help someone stay focused and centered during an important interview or test. She could cure a headache and call the deer into the yard. If you wanted singing birds during your wedding ceremony, call Naomi. Expelling unwanted spirits? Out of her wheelhouse. Way out — like located in another universe.

Jack arrived before Chris and his assistant, Juliana. Her boss bravely entered the kitchen and shut down the grill for the night, and he managed to remain uninjured. Lou begged Naomi to stay and take care of the customers before she even had the chance to ask for an early out. Being the new girl, and in desperate need of money, she didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.

In her mind, if she left work, she would be totally alone — and alone with a ghost seemed a lot worse than with a group of living, breathing people. Since she currently slept in her camper trailer behind Jack’s, the proximity of her mobile home was too close for comfort. Better to remain with the herd and be informed.

So, she stayed. Naomi cast a spell around herself to remain unseen unless she wanted to be seen. The magic she called upon used air and light waves. A technique learned at a young age. Bending light and shifting air currents proved useful in many circumstances, including confusing wayward spirits.

As she took care of the customers, Naomi had been thoroughly fascinated with how the Native American shaman worked his magic. His power came from a source foreign to her, and it appeared to come easily. Apparently, no fancy implements were needed. A commanding voice, some sage, and sweetgrass, and not much else. From what little she caught, his technique was otherworldly. The feelings he elicited within her bubbled, new and thrilling. Naomi was awestruck.

Just before Naomi served last call, the ghost hunter, and his assistant, finished up and left the pool hall. She shepherded the late night stragglers out the door, collected the rest of her tips, bussed a couple tables, and said goodnight to Lou, Jack, and her bartender.

Living behind her place of employment had become a necessary inconvenience due to the engine light glowing orange on the dashboard of her old Subaru. The light came on over a month ago. She didn’t have enough money for the repair. Leaking oil and black smoke aside, the car continued to run. She suspected that was only due to the number of prayers and spells she kept in her prayer grid.

Inside her travel trailer, she could not calm the apprehension buzzing through her insides. Something felt amiss, a supernatural disturbance in the air that had not been there before. Naomi lit candles, incense, and rearranged the crystals and stones in her prayer grid, but nothing made a difference. If she was going to find any peace, she needed to move her car and trailer away from Jack’s Corner Pocket. She could park for the night just outside of town in the national forest and wake up in the morning surrounded by the serenity of the woods.

Naomi looked at her magic circle made of quartz and amethyst crystals. The pyramid and other geometric patterns inside the circle glowed with a soft iridescence, confirming its positive charge. She held her palms over the circle and focused her mind. The folded notes and prayers overflowed the circle. With a dubious look, she realized she would need to invest in some larger crystals soon if she continued to pile on the spells and prayers inside the grid.

Leaning over from her spot on the edge of her bed, she grabbed a small notebook and wrote, “I’m safe from all harm.” “My Subie runs perfectly,” and, “I have more money than I need.” She tore the affirmations from the pad, folded them into squares, and placed them on top of all the other requests. Naomi blew out her candles, grabbed her incense, and stepped out of the trailer and into her car. She stuck the burning stick of incense in the ashtray and started the engine. The motor turned over and she stared at the orange light requesting maintenance. Naomi sent some positive thoughts to her magic grid, and then shifted into drive. It’s the last thing she remembered before seeing Chris, the ghost hunter, sleeping in bed.

* * *

Now she found herself watching two men drag Chris from his truck. He was inert and looking like this wasn’t the best morning of his life. Who were these guys? Why did they hurt Chris? He was just sitting in his truck minding his own business. Okay, maybe that wasn’t one hundred percent true. They’d both been snooping around. She didn’t think they saw him, but she was too busy trying to puzzle out why this location projected so much Earth energy. And she had been attempting to measure the vortex. Her extrasensory perception told her the vortex was expanding rapidly. A phenomenon she had never heard of before.

The construction workers didn't scare her away from exploring along the creek. The men were obviously preoccupied with the trench and the leaking pipe. She stayed out of sight, and the men never glanced her way. The ghost dressed like a time traveling Native American gave her the heebie-jeebies, though. She caught him spying on her, and he looked overly interested in what she was doing. The goofy look on his face didn’t match the intensity in his eyes, and well, the whole dead thing had her scurrying away from finding the borders of the vortex. She decided it was time to find Chris. He was the paranormal specialist after all, and he could take care of the oddball creeper following her.

Naomi dragged a hand over her scalp and tugged at her curls. She couldn’t believe the men were kidnapping Chris. She thought they were harmless only a few minutes earlier. What the heck had happened while she investigated the vortex? She glanced over her shoulder for like the tenth time. The Native American ghost had disappeared — thank the Goddess. Naomi hid behind the excavator, waiting and watching.

“Dude, why did you hit this guy?”

“He was trespassing. I smelled something shifty about him. Take a look at this blowhole. I bet he works for the city. An inspector, or worse, code enforcement.”

“You screwed up bad, man. You’re going to be in deep shit with the boss over this.”

“We’re not telling him squat. Besides, he’s my dad. He won’t fire me.”

“You're walking a fine line, Todd. After you hit his car with the backhoe last week, he said that was your last mistake. You’re so done.”

“Shut up. I am not. You have to help me dump this cocksucker.”

“Seriously? You’re an asshole, you know that.”

“It takes one to know one. Listen, Marlin,” Todd said. “We’re here to fix a problem, and that’s what I’m going to do, but first, we tie and gag this loser, drive him out to Tim-buk-fucking-tu, and by the time he resurfaces in town, we’ll have this covered up. No one will know a thing.”

“Who ties your shoes for you in the morning? That is the worst plan I’ve ever heard. You’re going to get us both fired, you stupid shit.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why are you helping me?”

“Because, Todd,”

The man drew out Todd’s name with a patronizing tone that made Naomi’s spine itch.

He went on. “Since you took it upon yourself to cold-cock this dude, without finding out who he is or what he’s doing here, we don’t have many options left.”

Marlin dropped Chris’s legs and opened the back door on their quad cab truck.

“So you’re saying I’m right. We gotta get him out of here before anyone spots us.”

“You’re not right. You’re a dumbass. And yeah, let’s get him out of sight. Where’s the duct tape?” He leaned into the truck.

Naomi stared hard as he rifled through the detritus on the backseat. Seconds later, he bound Chris with the tape. The two men lacked grace or care in every way as they hefted Chris into the truck and slammed the door.

Naomi winced in empathy for Chris’s unmoving body. What was she going to do now?

Todd walked around to the driver’s side and pulled open the door. “Marlin! What are you doing? Let’s get out of here.”

Marlin stopped walking toward the skid steer and backtracked. “We have to fix the mess you made yesterday. It’s almost daylight. If anyone sees the water running, and the pipes you broke and reports it, we’re in deep shit. The city will be all over us. The building department, EPA, city planner, and the freaking mayor will be all up in our business. You know how anal they are about every stupid thing, but especially their mineral hot springs. Your father will be fined, ticketed, and ordered to pay for God knows what.”

“They'll want him to replace every inch of rusted pipeline for the entire town while the tree hugging assholes count every bug and bunny in the county,” Todd said.

“We should have fixed this yesterday when you realized how badly you screwed up the job. Who digs in the wrong spot? You need to learn how to follow directions,” Marlin whisper-yelled.

“Did you forget to take your Midol this morning or what?”

“Go screw yourself.”

“Don’t have to. I already got some last night. Which is why I didn’t want to work in this mud hole until after dark yesterday. Maybe that’s your problem. You’re not getting enough.”

“Shut your damn trap, and help me finish this. Then we can take care of your other problem.” Marlin stomped across the lot and climbed into the skid steer. The engine growled to life, coughing and sputtering exhaust into the chill autumn air.

“Whatever,” Todd complained. “He won’t be going anywhere.” Todd left the truck door open and returned to work. When he reached the trench, he picked up a discarded shovel and leaned against it. Marlin ground the skid loader into gear and resumed pushing dirt into the trench.

Naomi didn’t waste another second. She snuck into the cab through the open door and climbed over the console to the back seat. Chris’s eyes opened wide, and he grunted against the tape over his mouth.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said. “I wouldn’t have pictured you for kink, but you know, to each their own,” she said, nonchalant and inappropriately making light of the situation.

Chris rewarded her with a glare through narrowed eyes. He could almost pull off an Asian face when he did that. She considered telling him that he’d make a decent looking Korean if his eyes permanently squinted like that, but held in the observation. It wasn’t PC. These days, everyone seemed to get offended by just about anything, plus she didn’t think Chris would appreciate her thoughts just now, given the circumstances. With desperation and panic driving her movements, she tried peeling the tape off his ankles and didn’t make much progress. He shook his head with urgency while mumbling something incoherent.

“Alright, but I’m going to do it fast.” He wore the squinty face again as she reached over to remove the duct tape from his mouth. Yep, definitely looked Asian when he made that face. Her Korean mother would approve.

Her mother may be Korean, but she married a Native American and African American U.S. Army soldier. Naomi grew up listening to comments about finding a nice Korean man, even though her own mother did not. What was with that? She and her mother had opposite views on just about every topic of discussion, but no more stridently than about who she should and should not date. In Naomi’s opinion, sexual and mental attraction had absolutely nothing to do with ethnicity and everything to do with butterflies and goose bumps. Chills ran up and down her arms when she looked Chris in the eyes, and she didn't know what to make of it.

She picked at the tape on his cheek until she had a firm grip on the edge and ripped. Every muscle in his body tensed and the muscles of his jaw hardened. To her surprise, he remained silent as he breathed through the free hair removal technique.

“There’s a knife in my vest pocket,” he said through gritted teeth. Then unnecessarily added, “Hurry.”

She patted around his waist and chest and didn’t find anything resembling a knife. However, she did enjoy a good feel of rock hard abs. For a lean man, he had some nice muscle tone. Chris caught on to her predicament.

“My inside left pocket.”

“Okay.” She searched again, and a surge of intimacy rushed through her bloodstream. This was the most intimate she had been with a man in forever. Too bad he had to be tied up. She kept her face hidden behind her hair as she dug around the bottom of the pocket and fished out the folding knife. With deft hands, she sliced through the tape with ease.

“Wow, sharp knife,” she commented.

Chris sat up, and she squeezed around him to place the knife at a good angle to cut the tape binding his wrists. Unfortunately, she glanced over at Todd and Marlin and saw something she could never imagine in her worst nightmares.

The thugs were busy working on the trench and ditches. Todd actually used the shovel instead of leaning on it, and Marlin continued to operate the skid steer. What freaked her out beyond comprehension was the circling vortex of energy funneling over the construction site and the arrival of at least thirty members of the undead. She knew they weren’t alive because of their semi-transparency. Some of the ghosts circled around with the funnel cloud of pure Earth energy, while others hovered or lingered near Todd and the open end of the trench.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Chris said. “Ow!” He yanked his hands out of the way.

Naomi shook like she was on permanent vibrate and accidentally cut him. He plucked the knife from her hand and snapped it shut. It went into his vest pocket, and he inspected the cut on his arm. Only a nick.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll live. Let’s get out of here.”

“You do see that, don’t you? What is it? What’s going on?” She babbled, scrambling away as fast as possible.

Outside of the truck, every ghost turned their eyes on them. All the blood in her body seemed to drain away. A black velvet shroud clouded her vision, and she swayed. Chris grabbed a hold of her and flashed a look of intolerance. She had the wherewithal to realize how easily she read his expression, even though they just met. She thought it was kind of funny, considering how he kept his expressions neutral. Being adept at empathy, she was used to knowing how the people around her felt and sensing their moods, but she was clearly reading his facial features. If she weren’t about to pee her pants with fright she’d like to share with him what a ripe turd he was for making faces at her.

Todd screamed, and she jolted back to the present. Passing out would have been so much better. Instead, she threw a glance behind them. Two ghosts stole Todd’s shovel. Naomi watched the shovel fly through the air and land somewhere over the sloped embankment that led to the creek. The skid loader wheeled around, and the engine died. The lot went silent. Another ghost climbed inside the cab with Marlin. The female spirit braced herself against the steel frame of the cab, lifted a leg and kicked Marlin off the seat with a booted heel. He tumbled out of the machine and landed in the dirt. Neither man could possibly be wearing clean shorts after the ghostly attack. Naomi barely controlled her own bladder as she and Chris made a break for it.

“What the hell!” she heard behind them.

“How did he bust out of the truck?”

“Grab him!”

“What do you think I’m doing!”

Naomi and Chris flew toward the pickup truck and threw themselves inside. She watched in horror as ghosts flocked behind and above Todd and Marlin.

One lithe male ghost materialized in front of Todd and screamed, “Don’t take away our vortex!”

Todd hit the sidewalk and rolled. He cowered, covering his head with beefy arms as he curled up like a baby. Marlin stopped and picked up his coworker. This gave Chris the time he needed to start the truck and tear away from the freak show.

Yeah, he was a ghost hunter, but come on, that didn’t mean he would always be surrounded by the nonliving, did it? Wow, she was on a roll. She just couldn’t figure out when she became a frequent flyer of the Bad Decisions Club.

“You know what, Chris? I would hang out with you a lot more if it were always this exciting,” Talks to the Wind said.

When the dead Indian appeared between them, spoke, and grinned at her, Naomi jumped so high she hit her head on the ceiling. After she finished screeching, she gripped her chest and passed out.

Chapter Four

“SHE’S A JUMPY ONE. Maybe you should teach her the ways of spirit.”

Chris tried a steadying breath. It failed miserably. Anxiety and irritation wouldn’t be alleviated with one well-intentioned inhale. While continuing to take long slow breaths he silently asked Great Spirit for clarity, fortitude, and the ability to endure through the morning. Better yet, he should request a new personality. His wasn’t working for him. He was on the verge of banishing Talks to the Wind to the farthest unknown reaches of the netherworld and taking pleasure doing it.

“What happened back there? In all my winters, I have never seen such a thing as what lay behind us. It is as if the Great Mother split open and pours out her life force.”

“That about sums it up,” Chris replied. “The new vortex is attracting lost souls and errant spirits.”

“It is pushing me away,” Talks to the Wind said.

“You are not lost or wayward,” Chris pointed out.

“That is a thought.”

A rumble or vibration in the air like that of a loud diesel engine had him checking his rearview mirror. What he saw upped his anxiety. The men who attacked him rounded the corner in their truck, tires squealing in pursuit. Chris pressed the gas pedal and took the next left at high speed. The truck leaned hard, pushing the suspension to its limit, and tossed Naomi into the door.

She moaned and came to. A good thing, he thought, although gently nudging her would have been a nicer way to wake her. Her eyelids flickered and then spread wide with fright when she saw Talks to the Wind sitting beside her.

“No more screaming,” he said as her mouth dropped open with a little pop.

“I don’t bite,” Talks to the Wind assured.

Her mouth shut, then opened again. Repeatedly.

“Let me give her a new name. Fish Face suits her,” Talks to the Wind said. “Look at those lips sucking air.”

Chris saw the resemblance. This was not the clarity he asked for from Great Spirit. He’d been referring to a clear understanding of why he was led to the construction site, why the land was so off balance, and how to bring harmony back to his mountain town. The way Naomi’s eyes bulged with fright, she resembled one of those goldfish with protruding eyes.

Chris gave Talks to the Wind a shrug. “Fish Face.” He tried the name out for himself. He didn’t agree or disagree aloud. Although, it did fit. “You should leave now. You’re scaring my guest. If you get rid of my tail, I’ll let you name her whatever you like.”

Talks to the Wind glanced over his shoulder. The workers continued to hound them.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Chris didn’t count on him being of much help regarding the thugs. But his spirit guide leaving would help improve Naomi’s color and overall health.

In the rearview mirror, he watched the truck come to an abrupt stop. The driver’s side door flew open, and the driver jumped out and appeared to be smacking himself. Chris thought he saw smoke and caught a glimpse of Talks to the Wind in the cab with the other man. He lost sight of the trio as he turned right on another back street.

“You lost them.” Naomi finally found her voice.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Can we go to Jack’s Corner Pocket now?”

“That’s where I’m headed.”

* * *

The truck lurched as Chris turned into the parking lot of the billiard hall. The high speed wouldn’t have been as much a problem if not for the car and mini camper blocking half the driveway.

Naomi sat with her neck craned around on the lookout for their pursuers. She bobbed up and down hanging onto the emergency handle as the pickup bounced across the lot.

“Whoa there, cowboy!” she whooped as Chris swerved around the camper trailer and hit a pothole roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. “Professional ghost hunters should know how to drive, don’t cha’ think?”

He slid her the side eye. “My driving is fine. I can't say the same about the parking abilities of Ms. Green Subaru back there.”

Naomi scratched her head. “Hey, I drive a green Subaru,” she said sounding offended. “I’m sure bouncing around has nothing to do with the color green.”

She glanced back. Chris had already wheeled around the building and steered into a parking space out of sight of the road and the green Subaru wagon and trailer. Parking in the back was all he could do for now. He would just hope he’d lost the men in the pickup truck for good. He wondered if, or when, Talks to the Wind would return with an update. Chris never knew when his guide would make an appearance. He often called to his other spirit guides when he wanted help. Talks to the Wind was unpredictable and sporadic at best.

“I’m assuming you can get us inside,” he said as they hurried to the back door of Jack’s.

“I guess I can,” she said with a shrug.

“I don’t have a key,” he said flatly. “And I do not think anyone would be inside at this time of morning.”

“Right, but I do have a key.”

“How come I did not see you last night?” he asked.

“I was hiding from you. I’m not a fan of ghosts and the like.”

“I noticed. You realize the irony don’t you?”

“Hush,” she scolded and narrowed an eye at him. “I can’t help myself.”

“I would bet against that statement.”

“Do you want to go inside or not?” she said, still huffy about him pointing out her personality flaw of being overly sensitive towards members of the non-living. Naomi turned the knob and pushed the door open but didn’t enter.

Chris reached forward and held the door. “After you.”

“No thanks. You go ahead of me, champ.”

“Scared of ghosts,” he mumbled and gave a not quite concealed disapproving shake of his head. He walked in and flipped the light switch.

“The lights aren’t working?” Naomi’s panic made her voice go up an octave.

“Electrical disturbances are common in circumstances like these.”

“I don’t bloody care. I’m out of here.” Naomi made to retreat even though she’d only stepped one foot inside the door.

Chris debated with himself. Was it better to let her remain outside and out of his way, or did he need her to stay close by? “You came to me for help. If you want it, you need to stay with me.”

The internal battle registered on her stricken face. Chris reached into his vest and pulled out his keychain flashlight.

“Please tell me that’s a ghost zapping laser?” she asked hopefully.

Why did he suddenly think he was the butt of some cosmic joke orchestrated by Great Spirit? He blinked at Naomi, clicked on the flashlight, and proceeded down the dim hallway. Daylight streamed in from behind them until the door swung closed. Naomi practically landed on top of him after the loud bang. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. She clung to his vest and became the monkey on his back — literally. As much as he wanted to, he did not insist she give him some space. The woman would probably pass out again, and he didn’t need the holdup. Chris directed the beam of light down the dark hallway until it reached the filtered light coming through an open doorway on the right.

“The kitchen,” she breathed in his ear.

“Whispering is unnecessary, Naomi. We’re alone. If we aren’t, we don’t want to surprise anyone — living or nonliving,” Chris said in his normal voice.

What he refrained from saying was that the vibrational shift inside Jack’s was significantly different since he had been there last night. Chris ventured forward seeking out the cause of the change. He felt the energetic vacuum all the way to the marrow of his bones. He reviewed the events of the previous night and realized how focused he had been on removing the impish spirit. What he neglected was the foundation and the grounds around the pool hall. He turned into the kitchen and had a moment of clarity. The offending spirit had purposefully distracted him from a more complex case.

“I missed something last night,” he murmured to himself.

Running on little sleep and having a woman clinging to his back, Chris realized his focus was not as sharp as it should be. He tried to pull himself together and only half succeeded. The entire aura of Jack’s had shifted in only a few hours. This disturbed him even more than the thought that the ghost tricked him. Jack’s Corner Pocket did not have the feeling of a bottomless chasm last night. He would have noticed. Not only did it feel like the ground was sucking him down, but a slight sense of vertigo hovered in the periphery. His personal energy level was too high to be consumed by the negativity of the building. A layperson or average Joe — someone who knew nothing of energetic protection — would become ill if they spent more than a few minutes here. Chris couldn’t ignore the situation to go catch up on sleep and come back later when he was refreshed.

Jack needed an update. Chris pulled out his phone and tapped the power button. The phone didn’t wake up. He tried a second time and the screen remained black. Electronic devices couldn’t handle the frequencies overwhelming the building. As strong as it was, he would be surprised if his phone ever worked again.

“That’s not good,” Naomi pointed out over his shoulder.

“Everything will be fine.” Chris deposited the phone back in his pocket.

“Did you say you forgot to do something last night?” she asked.

He shone the light around the darkened kitchen. One high narrow window along the sidewall provided daylight. The stainless steel countertops and appliances blended in with the gray light turning the room into a nondescript and dreary box.

“Yes. I’m not sure what it is. I spent most of my time in the billiard room, smoking room, and the attic. I saw the kitchen briefly. Is there an office?”

He made his way around the kitchen shining the flashlight over every surface, including the baseboards, ceiling, and walls.

“There’s an office by the front counter, and there are two storage rooms. One for kitchen and restaurant supplies and one for billiard and janitor supplies.” She continued to whisper.

“Show me where they are.”

Naomi shook her head, refusing.

“The sooner we find the source of the problem, the sooner we solve your mystery.”

After what felt like hours had passed, she averted her gaze to a short hallway in the corner of the kitchen. A restroom sign hung next to one door, but he made out another closed door.

Where other people would be repelled, Chris was drawn to the back of the kitchen like iron filings to a magnet. His intuition flared. He found what he sought.

“I’ll wait over here,” Naomi said.

Chris swung the door open and leaned in, but didn’t enter the storeroom. Something akin to trepidation rose to the forefront of his awareness. A rare occurrence for the normally unflappable shaman. A frisson swept over his skin raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms. “I thought this might be the case.” He stared at the unstable energetic mass. “Jack’s pool hall is located in direct opposition to the vortex on Hermosa Ave.”

The energy vortex definitely had not been inside the storeroom last night. It had to have formed after he left. As he stood there, the vortex expanded. Its spiraling center lay well beneath the floor buried within the Earth. In his mind, Chris visualized the underground rivers and passageways of the water table. Jack’s Corner Pocket had to be located on top of, or very close to, potent geothermal activity. Chris would bet money that the coordinates of this vortex aligned with the vortex on Hermosa Ave. Naomi edged closer, straining to see around Chris.

“Do you think this has anything to do with your confusion?” he asked.

Energetic fields aren't always visible. Some adepts feel them. Some only sense them with their third eye, and some people, like him, see them just as clearly as the shelves lined up against the walls.

“I think we’re in deep doo-doo,” Naomi said, retreating from the storage room.

“That did not go as well as I planned,” Talks to the Wind said behind her.

Naomi whirled around. Chris reacted before she had a chance to scream or pass out.

He clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream. He is with me. Just like you are.” He strategically placed himself between Talks to the Wind and Naomi.

“Fish Face is still on the nervous side. Haven’t you figured out her deal yet?”

Staying focused on Naomi required most of his attention. If she passed out again, he would be stuck in the kitchen until she regained consciousness. They didn’t have time for that. He removed his hand from her mouth. “Take deep breaths and keep looking at me. Talks to the Wind is my spirit guide, and he’s here to help… if you can call it helping. That point is debatable.” He said this last bit more to himself than her. “Can you hear me, Naomi?” He gave her a little shake.

She nodded almost imperceptively but continued to stare into his eyes. Chris boosted her energy level by sending some of his life force energy into her through eye contact. He breathed deep and adjusted his energetic vibration to be calm and centered. The method worked, and her panic subsided.

“What is going on?” Chris asked his guide.

Talks to the Wind leaned out the kitchen door and peered down the hallway. “I came ahead of them to give you some time, but your woman is high maintenance. Now there is no time.”

“I know there is not enough time,” he said, frustrated. “What are you talking about, Talks to the Wind? In case you do not feel it, there’s a cataclysmic energetic void that must be dealt with.”

“They’re here. The two uglies and a boat load — well, it is actually a truckload — of displaced spirits. I gotta get out of this weird place. It’s sucking me in,” Talks to the Wind said and disappeared.

Chris grabbed Naomi’s hand and pulled her out of the kitchen. “Time to go.”

She gasped with surprise when he yanked her across the room. They dashed into the hall just in time to see the back door of Jack’s swing open and hear Todd and Marlin arguing.

“What the hell is happening?”

“They’re freaking dead! All of them! Just do what they say!”

“I don’t believe in ghosts!”

“Ow! One just hit me.”

“This is crazy. It’s not possible!” Marlin argued.

“I don’t know, man, but they brought us here, and that’s our guy’s truck in the parking lot. I’m going to find him and wring the bastard’s neck. He’s doing this. I'm sure of it. And I’m not getting busted for a mistake.”

“Your dad is going to fire your ass, and mine too.”

“Shut up, man. Let’s just find him.”

“Look! The ghosts are leaving us alone now.”

Naomi darted in front Chris and started dragging him farther into the building.

“Where are we going?” Chris whispered as they entered the nearly pitch black pool hall.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

“How?”

They zigged and zagged around the pool tables, cue racks, support beams, and chairs. Chris could barely see Naomi in front of him, but he trusted that she knew her way across the large room. They veered left, and he spotted an emergency exit sign. Chris reached out to push the door open, but as soon as daylight streaked inside, he saw a throng of ghosts waiting for someone to open the door. They sneered at him with distorted faces. These were not garden-variety lost souls. They appeared demented and full of malice. He slammed the door and threw up a wall of spiritual protection by raising his hands and saying a prayer in his native tongue.

“More friends of yours?” Naomi said as she started in another direction.

With the flash of daylight, he got a glimpse of the billiard hall. They could skirt down the length of the room toward the smoking lounge. If he remembered correctly, the smoking club had its own exit.

“Not this time,” Chris said as they hurried across the room.

“He’s in here!” Todd called out.

“Who? More ghosts?”

“No, you idiot. Our escape artist.”

Chris wouldn’t turn his flashlight on. The dark gave him a better chance of getting out unnoticed. Plus, he was proficient in moving without making any sound. That is until he collided with a chair.

A grunt of pain erupted out of him as he cracked his shin, stumbled, and went down in a tangle of wooden legs. Back on his feet in the next second, he heard Todd or Marlin catching up with him. He silently cursed himself a thousand ways to Sunday as he hopped on one foot and continued to move forward.

“Over here,” he heard in his ear.

Without warning, Naomi grasped his arm and pulled him aside.

Stunned by her maneuver, he didn’t make any real attempt to free himself. Her hand was on him and making him move. The reality of her action didn’t sit well with him. Not that anything that happened this morning did.

Naomi shoved him against the wall, but there was no wall. He stumbled into a closet or cubby space. They sunk into soft coats and jackets and she arranged them as a screen. Before he had the chance to orient himself, Naomi pressed her lips to his. What? Not only did she put her hands on him, but now she was kissing him. Chris yanked his head away from her extraordinarily warm and soft, but intrusive, lips to gawk at her. Did Chris gawk? He couldn’t remember ever doing so before. Not that she could see him in the dark, but gawking?

“Play along, Silly-Billy, or they’re going to see you,” she murmured.

“They are going to see us anyway.”

“No, they won’t. Trust me on this. No one will see you around this massive set of curls. And all the coats.” He heard the smile in her whisper.

She had a point, he thought. Her hair could shield just about anything smaller than a Mack truck. Before he came up with an alternative plan to hiding behind Naomi’s 'fro, she laid her lips against his again. The magic she threw around them was unlike anything he’d experienced before. He instinctively knew she created a shield of protection around them. He suspected she used a type of projected camouflage to distort and hide them. The air vibrated and shimmered. Chris went with it.

He didn’t comprehend the impulsiveness. Impulse control was something he excelled at since the day he was born. It might have been the taste of her, apple with a hint of spice. The woman definitely knew how to cover up the tobacco from the cigarette she smoked in his cabin. Not that tobacco really bothered him. He grew up using a ceremonial pipe. Prayers were sent with the smoke for just about any reason his father could come up with — to end the drought, to heal the sick, to ease the passing of a soul, to help his father’s cousin Edna win at bingo. Tobacco had a unique sweetness in the medicine pipe, and now it had a unique flavor on Naomi’s playful lips.

The cramped closet turned quite cozy as Chris closed the gap between them. He palmed her back and pressed her body against the length of him. A sound resembling a purr vibrated out of Naomi. Teeth grazed his lower lip, and she leaned hard against him. Primal urges came few and far between for Chris — at least where his sex drive was concerned. His abdomen clenched all the way down to his groin. He ran an exploratory hand along her spine, over her shoulder, and cupped her head in his hand as he deepened the kiss. Their tongues met and twined. Her hands trailed down his sides and gripped his waist. Naomi’s heartbeat picked up, beating against his chest like a drum.

How? He kept asking himself. How was Naomi doing any of this? How did she light a cigarette? How had she manifested a physical body so quickly and released it just as fast?

Spirits can move physical objects. This is a well-known fact. But it takes the average spirit a fair amount of natural talent, a lot of practice, and immense control. Naomi’s supernatural abilities were blowing his mind. What kind of otherworldly apparition was she? He had to find out as soon as possible. Making out with a spirit had never happened before. It had to be wrong, even if he presently liked it. Her evasiveness regarding exactly who she was and what she was doing here would not cut the mustard for much longer.

“Damn it! I lost them,” Todd said.

“We need to get out of here. You’re going to get us arrested,” Marlin said.

“No. That spying little punk is here, and I’m not leaving without him.”

Naomi broke the kiss. He all but felt her gaze lingering on his mouth. They listened to the two men move away from their closet. Crashing sounds echoed around the room as if Todd and Marlin collided with pool tables and a chair or two.

“This is crap. I’m outta here,” Marlin called.

Chris could tell Marlin was on the far side of the room.

“That’s enough tonsil hockey for now.” Naomi patted his chest and spun around, placing her back against him. Her fluffy hair tickled the underside of his chin before she released her physical form. Naomi was back in her spirit body. Chris longed to know more about her and the magic she used. She wasn’t dead, that much he knew. Her spirit was still tied to her physical body somewhere. But where? Where was she and why was she out of body? Astral projection could be a dangerous undertaking. Why was she doing it so haphazardly? Naomi slid out from the coats.

When he didn’t move to follow, she leaned back in. “Don’t pout, sport. We can commence canoodling later.”

Chris registered the jibe and shook off the hormonal haze. Just as he was about to follow her, the metal door handle creaked, and a wash of daylight spread across the room.

Marlin held the emergency door open. Chris saw his seal of protection break, bursting like a popped bubble. It had not been a permanent seal, given that he created it in seconds and only with a simple prayer and a small, focused burst of energy.

“If you leave me alone in this haunted place I’ll tell the cops you were the one who hit that blowhole and shoved him inside the truck,” Todd said.

That grabbed both Marlin and Chris’s attention. It was both a good and a bad thing that Marlin opened the door. Good because Chris saw that Todd wasn’t where he thought he was. He stood near the smoking room. Just where Chris would have gone next. Bad because the spiritual protection broke and the ghosts waiting outside had an open door to enter through.

Naomi froze in place as she stared at Todd. Chris threw his gaze back to Marlin and the open door. Ghosts of all sizes and shapes flew into the billiard hall. One barged into Marlin, knocking him aside. The hefty construction worker screamed in terror, went down on one knee, and then bounced back up. Marlin appeared stricken with some form of self-inflicted mania as he brushed and slapped at his body.

Todd couldn’t see Naomi in her spirit form standing almost right in front of him. He did see his friend acting like a lunatic. Naomi must have forgotten she was invisible. She ran to move out of Todd’s way. Chris’s jaw clenched with frustration as she panicked and ran the wrong direction.

“What in the hell was that?”

“It ran me over. This is crazy! We gotta get out of here!” Marlin cried out as he darted away from the still open door.

As soon as he moved the door swung closed. Chris jumped out of the closet after Naomi and caught up with her a few feet from the hallway leading toward the kitchen. The ghosts also headed that direction, and he knew what would happen as soon as Naomi spotted them.

A blood-curdling scream tore out of her when a ghost rushed past, bumped her, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Calm down. We’re getting out of here right now!” he told her.

“There he is!” Todd yelled after hearing Chris speak.

The mistake couldn’t be taken back. He knew it, but Naomi suffered from a crippling fear of ghosts, and he had only been thinking of her when he spoke. He forced her to move toward the back door, but she somehow put on the brakes, and he couldn’t move her. Ghosts, hell-bent on finding the vortex in the storage room, poured down the hallway from both directions.

Todd and Marlin were coming at him from the billiard room. Chris had no other option but to leave through the back door at the end of the hall. Nothing in this world would let him leave Naomi behind with these warped and twisted souls. The vortex was creating an unprecedented phenomenon, and it attracted malicious and foul ghosts.

The building creaked and groaned around them. A loud crack came from overhead, and the ceiling seemed to shift. Enough was enough, and Chris took charge of the situation. He picked her up off her feet, spirit to spirit. Astral traveling witch or not, she couldn’t resist the immense power of his true self. She clung to him as he sprinted down the hallway. Crashing sounds boomed out of the kitchen and storage room. The building moaned and the paint split and began to crumble. He should not have looked, but he couldn’t help himself. The kitchen overflowed with ghosts who looked possessed with rage. He didn’t stall or stumble, but as he dashed out the door, he caught a glimpse of Todd being shoved into the kitchen by a horde of frenzied ghosts. As the door swung shut again, Marlin dove into the kitchen after his friend.

* * *

Chris sprinted to the truck. Jack’s Corner Pocket screeched and snapped as the southeast corner of the building caved in. He yanked open the driver’s side door and jumped inside. Naomi scrambled across the cab to the passenger seat. Her dark chocolate eyes were glued to the disaster, and her whole body trembled.

“Where is your physical body, Naomi?” He needed to get to the bottom of this mystery. Her insistence to come to Jack’s made him think she must be here.

“That’s a gray area.” Her eyes rolled skyward in a half circle as if searching for the answer inside her head.

As she stalled, his patience slipped to a precarious degree. It had been tenuous to start with. “I do not understand ‘gray area.' How do you not know where your body is?”

She swallowed and stuck her tongue in her cheek before speaking. “Listen here, bucko. Not everyone has a firm grip on the location of their physical body. I’ve meant to ask you to help me find it.”

Chris’s brows drew together. This was new. Everything about Naomi seemed new to him. “Were you in an accident?” He needed to know how urgent her situation was. Things were already bad enough with two hooligans chasing after him and a vortex that needed to be closed before the town was bombarded with energy vampires and wayward spirits.

“Hmm… Well… It’s hard to remember.”

Her stalling coupled with vague answers compelled Chris to draw in a long calming breath. He tried another tactic. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“Leaving work. Kind of like what we’re doing now, except I’m pretty sure it was dark outside.”

Chris frowned. “Were you ill?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her answers didn't help.

“We have to get out of here. Is there any chance you’re inside the pool hall?”

Chris nailed the gas pedal and the truck peeled out of the parking space.

“No. I remember leaving for the night and going to my trailer.”

As he rounded the building, the truck fishtailed and came within inches of crashing into the camper and Subaru still blocking half of the driveway entrance. He swerved, held his breath, and prayed for a miss. No screech of metal followed, and he gunned the accelerator to high-tail it out of there. Chris chanced a look back. Todd was dragging Marlin from the building.

“They made it out! I can’t believe it!” Her gaze was fixed on Jack’s. The entire back side of the building fell apart. “Todd needs to go away… like to prison,” Naomi added.

“I wish you could call 911 for me,” he said as he concentrated on not wrecking the truck as they bounced over potholes.

“I’ll ruin your phone if I touch it. My vibe is too powerful for a sensitive device like that.”

“I know. I’ll call, and then we’ll figure out where you are.” With one hand gripping the wheel, Chris pulled the phone out of his pocket.

“Come on, come on,” he urged as he held down the power button and willed it to wake up. The irony that he actually wanted his electronic leash to be in working condition when he regularly cursed the device for existing at all didn’t escape him. At the moment, Chris was both repulsed and grateful for the phone — that is, if it still worked.

He had no idea if his phone survived the close proximity to the vortex. Forever and a day seemed to pass before the screen lit up. He glanced at Naomi and saw she wasn’t looking at him, or the phone is his hand, but back at the car and the travel trailer in the driveway.

He glimpsed the Subaru in the rearview mirror and the epiphany struck him like a sledgehammer at the exact same time Naomi said, “That’s my car!”

Chris braked, slammed the truck into reverse, and jolted forward as the truck switched directions. He punched in the number for emergency services, turned on the speakerphone, and threw open the door. Naomi and Chris ran toward the Subaru. A dispatcher came on the line and asked what the emergency was. Chris blurted out the address, and a brief description then hung up.

A huge smile spread across Naomi’s face. You'd think that all was well in her world, but Chris didn’t like what lay before him. Naomi’s body was slumped over in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t tell what was wrong with her.

“You found me!” Naomi planted a smacking kiss on his cheek. “I knew I had the right man for the job.”

He found her cheerful response inappropriate given the collapsed building, the horde of unstable ghosts, two irate thugs, and her passed out body. He gave her a stern look.

She revised, even though her happiness didn’t waver. “Okay, so maybe I was slightly skeptical for a little while there. I mean you and Mr. Talks to the Wind tried to scare the life out of me, but I shouldn’t have doubted. You totally did it. I was right here the whole time. Duh! I’m an idiot.”

“Are you sick?”

“No. I think I was driving away, and the vortex opened. The shift was so powerful. I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do. Then I was inside your house.” She looked both apologetic and surprised by her admission.

Chris cocked a brow and frowned. He reached for the door handle, but it refused to open. “Unlock the door, Naomi,” he ordered. “It’s time for you to return to your body.”

Without answering, she disappeared from his side. He watched her slip into the front seat of the car and back into her body.

“Wake up!” Chris knocked on the window.

She didn’t respond. He continued yelling and pounding on the car. He strained to check her breathing and barely saw the rise and fall of her chest. His anxiety lessened a few degrees. But why was she unresponsive? Unintentional, and unprotected, astral travel is extraordinarily dangerous. Without her spirit inside her physical shell, she was vulnerable to walk-ins, possession, and death.

Chris saw her hand twitch. “Naomi!”

Through the screen of her curls, he thought her eyelids wavered. That’s when he heard it. The engine roared, and he recognized the sound. Chris looked up in time to see the construction truck round the side of Jack’s Corner Pocket. The heavy-duty pickup fishtailed just as Chris’s truck had. In his mind’s eye, Chris saw the accident coming and threw up a shield of protection. He called for his spirit guides. Talks to the Wind arrived almost instantaneously and shoved Chris aside. His sphere of protection warped, wobbled, and didn’t reach out as far as he wanted it to. Chris hit the ground. The back of Todd’s truck swung hard to the left, tires throwing up a spray of gravel like a shotgun blast. Todd gunned the engine and overcorrected causing the truck to swing around the other way. The rear quarter panel and bumper smashed into Naomi’s Subaru, slid along the side, and crushed the steel as if it were made of tin foil. The camper wobbled, slid, but stayed upright.

The passenger side windows of the Subaru burst. Naomi ricocheted from right to left. She collided with the driver’s side door, moaned, and blacked out again. Chris thought she would vacate her body once more from the trauma, but he didn’t see her spirit leave. He jumped to his feet. The flash of Todd’s sneering face as he rumbled by didn’t last more than half a second. The truck already unstable after the collision, and with a reckless driver behind the wheel, hit the end of the driveway, took the turn onto the road, and rolled. Chris flinched as a horrific crunch of steel echoed down the street through the morning air. The truck landed on its roof, tires spinning. The scream of approaching sirens told Chris help would soon be there.

With the windows shattered, he reached inside and unlocked the doors. Chris slipped off the medicine bag he wore around his neck and placed the leather cord over Naomi’s head to keep her spirit within her body.

“Naomi, you must stay inside your body. The elements of earth, air, water, and fire now protect you. The four directions and the ancestors of my people protect you. Do not vacate this form. Stay and be healed. Be whole.”

The way the impact tossed Naomi around inside the car, he guessed she suffered whiplash. Paramedics would be there in a few more seconds. They could stabilize her neck with a cervical collar. Until then, Chris squatted down next to her, channeling healing energy and praying for her body and spirit.

“Good thing I shoved you out of the way. You might be knocked out like she is,” Talks to the Wind said from behind him.

Chris wanted to point out that if he had held his ground, Naomi and her car would have been protected. He bit back the cutting remarks. “How about some help?”

“Not my area of expertise.”

“Anyone can channel Great Spirit’s universal energy and put it to use,” Chris said trying his hardest to remain levelheaded.

“You’re doing fine on your own.”

Chris wondered again, for at least the tenth time that morning, why Talks to the Wind was his guide.

“You have a knack for finding good looking women with extraordinary gifts. If I were in your moccasins, I would gift her father a hundred of my best horses. You know,” Talks to the Wind said thoughtfully, “the other woman was never right for you, but this one has potential.”

“You can leave now if you’re going to stand there and do nothing,” Chris told Talks to the Wind. He was certain his guide was referring to Juliana. Talks to the Wind was right; Juliana was definitely not meant to be Chris’s girlfriend. Juliana and Nathaniel were together, and Chris could not imagine anything in this world — or the next — that would tear them apart. He’d made peace with her decision to date the fallen angel. They were good for one another.

“Whatever you say,” Talks to the Wind said. “I can’t handle all this pressure in the air. It’s dragging on me.” He gestured toward the destruction that used to be Jack’s Corner Pocket and left. Chris wasn’t sad to see him go.

A host of shrieking sirens raced toward them. Two sheriffs, an ambulance, and a firetruck tore down the street and parked.

Naomi whimpered, and her eyes opened. Before Chris could tell her to hold still, she murmured, “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.”

He didn’t know where she came up with the nonsensical babble. He was starting to get used to it, and even anticipated when she might say something that made him cringe and wonder at the same time.

“We need help over here!” He waved his arm in the air to get their attention. The paramedics rushed over with their gear, and Chris reported what little he knew about Naomi Hutson.

Chapter Five

CHRIS ARRIVED at the construction site well before sunrise. Autumn was kind to the mountains this year, providing warm, dry days, but the nights plummeted to near freezing temperatures. He climbed out of the truck and zipped up his insulated vest. If his ceremony failed this morning, at least he’d be warm in his layers of vest, T-shirt, and flannel. Not that he expected to fail, but he never expected a vortex to spiral out of the Earth in the middle of town either. Times were changing. The Earth was changing. His guides informed him on more than one occasion that the changes they witnessed since the turn of the century were occurring faster than they had ever seen. He always paid close attention to the messages from Spirit and tried to use the information wisely. Chris gathered his medicine bundle and approached the empty lot and energy vortex with his supernatural shields in place. He wouldn’t be caught off guard this time.

The ground near the center of the vortex appeared to have risen a few feet as if being shoved upward from beneath. The skid loader sat at a hazardous angle near the trench where Marlin worked the morning before. A slew of ghosts hovered around the lot like unearthly guards. Chris’s eyes burned from lack of sleep and his body dragged as heavy as his eyelids. Regardless of the detrimental sleep loss, his mind remained in overdrive.

Yesterday passed in a whirl of activity. After the excitement at Jack’s Corner Pocket, he rode with Naomi to the hospital, stayed by her side through the check-in process, and then visited the police station. By the time he was finished filing the police report, he had needed to find something to eat. He drove to his father’s house to consult with him on the unusual case.

Sherman White Wolf Abeyta shared food with his son and told stories through the night. Chris gained much-needed insight regarding the ghost world and energy shifts. In the early hours of the morning, he asked his father to come to town with him, but the elder shook his head and told his son he didn’t feel like it.

Chris had his own interpretation of his father’s refusal. Sherman once told him that he should develop his own methods and medicines for working with Spirit — without outside influence. Chris believed his father shared those words because he knew his son better than anyone else did. The elder understood that Chris worked best alone.

With Todd and Marlin’s hasty departure the morning before, the gate hung open and no one had returned to lock it. Chris walked unhindered onto the lot. He concentrated on all that needed to be done. He couldn’t relax or rest until the vortex was stable and the spirits, who arrived with the increase of Earth energy, passed to the spirit world.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he steeled his resolve before responding.

“I am not here. Pretend you do not see me.”

“Fat chance,” the hefty male spirit said. He stood with fists resting against pudgy hips.

“Excuse me.” Chris stepped to the side to make his way around the rotund man and immediately received a poke in the chest.

“I expect you’re not walking away without assistance, so why don’t you let me help you?”

The ghost grabbed the edge of Chris’s vest near the shoulder — an unfortunate move.

Chris expected a protest from the ghosts at the construction site. He didn’t know how powerful and belligerent they would be after figuratively sucking off the tit of Mother Nature for the past twenty-four hours. The negative vortex at Jack’s attracted the worst of the worst, regarding damaged souls, but the ones on Hermosa Ave. were of a different ilk. These ghosts chose to remain in spirit form for their own reasons, but not because they were fiendish or banished. The ghosts on Hermosa Ave. were the type to mourn the loss of a loved one or brood in a battlefield for all eternity — not create chaos and evil like the ghosts flocking to the pool hall. These lost spirits were mostly harmless, that is until something set them off. Such as feeding them a pure stream of Earth energy and then trying to take it away.

A crowd gathered around him and the bully. He watched their second line of defense move into place in an attempt to surround the core of the vortex. Chris didn’t want a fight, and he certainly didn’t want to make an example of this man, but with the physical contact, it couldn’t be avoided.

Before the stout man had a chance to blink, let alone cast Chris off the property, the shaman concentrated the life force energy running through him into his palms. He slapped his hands over the man’s ears and squeezed. The ghost yowled as Chris turned him into a shriveled specter, wretched, withered and unrecognizable. The group of spirits took a collective step back, but Chris felt them rallying almost instantly for another go at him. It wouldn’t take long for an impudent spirit to try again. Feeding off the vortex was like no other fountain of youth on the planet. If he had to guess, they wouldn’t give up, and he was outnumbered fifty-to-one.

“I call upon the warriors. I call to my elders. Assist me as I am your humble brother. I ask for your help!”

Chris’s voice carried all the way to the spirit world. He held what was left of the insolent spirit in one fist and knelt to open the flap on his bearskin medicine bundle. He removed a stone bottle and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He poured the mixture of corn pollen, tobacco, and crushed copal over the diminutive specter. The ghost dissolved and turned to ashes, scattering over the dirt like dust. The wayward ghost would not return to the spirit world and would forever be less than even what the worms fed on.

He sprinkled the medicinal mixture over his open palms to cleanse them of any etheric residue. Satisfied with the results, he stuffed the cork in the bottle and glanced up. Chris’s call for help had been answered.

The desire to step back and observe the battle from a spectator’s point of view ached in his nostalgic bones. Dozens of warriors from the past arrived along with many medicine men. They attacked the rebellious horde of ghosts in full regalia — and every brave looked as if he thirsted for battle. Only in his mind and imagination had he ever conjured a sight like the one before him. Painted warriors, brandishing their weapons captured and took down one lost spirit after another. Valor and fearlessness surged through his chest and drove him forward. Chris could not stand aside and watch. He pounced on the nearest ghost, wrapped an arm around his neck, and squeezed. The battle cry whooped out of him, devastating and victorious.

The fight didn’t last long. By the time Chris sent his ghost to the spirit world, each of his otherworldly helpers had captured a lost soul and dragged them off to a higher dimension where souls renew and rest in peace. The warriors did not return. His four main spirit guides came back to the lot, smiling, and congratulating each other on a successful battle. The four were a wise group of ancient medicine men who often stood by Chris’s side when he performed ceremonies.

“The young one is always bringing us much excitement,” Yellow Hawk said.

“He is the new generation. His medicine is strong,” Two Suns remarked.

Chris waited patiently for his guides to finish talking before moving on to the real reason they were there.

“That was the largest group of unsettled souls I have ever seen,” Black Horns said.

“An impressive group,” Bill agreed. “Quite lively for the displaced. How is it you have gathered a large number of them together, Chris?”

“It was not my doing,” he said. “Take a look over there. Do you not feel it in the air and below your moccasins?” he asked Bill.

Bill would be considered the most modern of his four medicine men guides. And by modern, he estimated Bill’s last incarnation was about one hundred and fifty years ago, give or take a couple of decades. The medicine man preferred to be called Bill and never gave anyone a more traditional name. Bill’s broad face matched his broad chest. He had a wide flat nose above a mouth that was perpetually turned down. As he looked around the construction site, his lips compressed into an even deeper frown.

“An anomaly. Is that what you would call it?” Bill asked.

“That’s a word for it,” Chris said. “An energy vortex made by unearthing and rerouting the sacred waters. With your guidance, we will help our Great Mother this morning so she may heal. The vortex will remain, but it will not be wide open.”

“You helped many suffering souls cross over this day. Great Spirit smiles on you. It is a mighty deed,” Black Horns said solemnly.

Black Horn’s acknowledgment received agreeable nods from the others.

Chris said, “I have done little. The warriors fought bravely. I do what I can, but it is nothing.”

Their eyes crinkled and softened toward Chris. Remaining humble was a path they all aspired to stay on.

The five medicine men moved closer to the open trench and surveyed the damages and the haphazard repairs started by Marlin and Todd. Surprisingly, Todd or Marlin managed to fix the broken pipeline before being scared off by the ghosts. The repair tamped down some of the energy flowing from the vortex and eased the external pressure on his spirit guides. Chris made a vital adjustment to an overflow valve by shutting off the flow of water completely so none of the hot spring water ran into the tributary stream. Keeping the two sources of water separated brought the land back to the way it was supposed to be, and harmony was restored. Chris climbed into the skid steer, and moved a small mountain of dirt, covering up the final section of open trench. Todd made a horrible mistake when they hit the piped hot spring. If he bothered to check the building plans, he could have avoided the disaster. Instead, he and Marlin learned the hard way. Chris didn’t want anyone else to make the same mistake. He spent the next hour moving boulders from the creek bank and built a stone barricade over the vortex. When he could do no more, he parked the skid steer and retrieved his medicine bundle.

Each of the medicine men smoked from Chris’s ceremonial pipe and said a prayer. Two Suns addressed the four directions. Yellow Hawk prayed to the gods above and below. Bill danced and sang a song to bring everlasting harmony. Black Horns created an impenetrable circle of protection, and Chris sealed the ceremony with a prayer and his sacred corn pollen, tobacco, and sage.

With the vortex hampered, the Earth energy in and around the empty lot settled to a reasonable level, and Chris began decompressing. His guides returned to the spirit world as he packed up his medicine bundle.

The sun rose and morning commuters could be heard driving down the main avenue through town. Chris sat in the cab of his truck and forced himself to stay awake. He had one final thing to take care of before he could go to sleep — the meeting with the city planner, the building department, Officer Howe, and the owner of the property, Mr. Schlitz, a.k.a. Todd’s father and a known land developer.

The dread of the upcoming meeting — with actual living people — weighed heavy on his mind. The anxiety it created was a hundred times worse than any battle with parasitic energy-sucking ghosts. Chris drank some of the medicinal tea his father handed him hours earlier. The tea didn’t quite provide the kick in the ass he needed for dealing with people — who would be arriving any second now — but it was all he had.

To his minor relief, Officer Howe arrived first. The others showed up minutes later. Chris drug himself from the truck and spent the next thirty minutes explaining and describing something most people thought of as intangible or make believe. Officer Howe believed in Chris, and his work as a shaman and ghost hunter, and affirmed Chris’s statements and backed him up where he could.

Since Todd botched the excavating job from the very beginning, there wasn’t much or any argument from his father, Mr. Schlitz. That is until Chris pointed out the environmental concerns for the underground hot spring. The city planner jumped in and put an immediate halt to the project until an environmental impact study could be conducted on the empty lot and the adjoining tributary stream. Then Officer Howe asked the building inspector why the lot appeared to be heaved upward in the center and pointed out how the empty building next door looked affected by this unusual shift in the ground. The inspector deemed more inspections must be made on the entire block before any further construction. Mr. Schlitz promptly went ballistic. Chris felt his job was complete and stepped away from the others.

Somehow, he drove himself home, even though he didn’t remember doing so. A vague recollection of Talks to the Wind helping him out of the truck and up to his front door teased his memory. Would his guide actually drive the truck for him? He didn’t know and didn’t care. The only thing that held any importance was a mattress to stretch out on and the soft cushion of a pillow beneath his head.

Chapter Six

“THESE WILL KEEP you from exiting your body.” Chris held up two strings of multi-colored beads.

“Do I wear them? Eat them? What am I looking at?” Naomi asked, squinting up at him.

Chris stepped closer to the hospital bed and handed over the bracelets.

Naomi inspected the beads and then hid the bracelets underneath the sheet. She brought her knees up as she fidgeted beneath the covers. Uncomfortable, he waited for her to finish. He thought he would see the talisman bracelets on her wrists when she stopped fiddling with them. He should know better than to assume anything involving Naomi.

“What did you do? They are for your protection. I worked hard to ensure the stone beads, and the charms will keep your spirit secure within your body. If you decide to astral travel in the future, you will need to take them off.”

“I can feel your magic infused in them.”

“It is not magic,” he clarified.

“Whatever you want to call it,” she said dismissively, then smiled. “I can feel the power. And they’re on my ankles.”

The pleased expression on her face caused him to hesitate. He intended for the charms to be worn around the wrists. Intention is a major factor in the creation and usage of his medicines. Would it make a difference?

While he thought about it, she asked, “What’s with the sour face, mate?”

“Why did you put them on your ankles instead of your wrists?”

“They looked like anklets. They’re somewhat long. Besides, I assumed they have to stay on all the time — considering my issues with astral projection. If they’re on my ankles, I won’t think twice about them.”

“Very well,” he said, satisfied with her answer. “I don’t care to be called ‘mate.’”

“How about Bucko?”

“Not working for me either.”

“Silly-Billy?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wet blanket.”

He didn’t know if she still searched for an acceptable pet name or if she was calling him a “wet blanket.” Probably the latter. Given the opportunity, Chris could dampen just about anyone’s good mood.

“That one at least fits the bill.”

A tiny smirk hid behind her full lips. Naomi lifted Chris’s medicine pouch from around her neck. “I guess I don’t need this anymore.”

He reached for his medicine bag and put it back on where it belonged. He tucked the pouch beneath his shirt noticing the warmth of her skin on the leather. “Ready to get out of here?”

He returned to the hospital for more reasons than bringing Naomi the protective charm bracelets. Chris wanted to give her a ride and make her an offer.

She stared into her lap. “I don’t have anywhere to go. My car is totaled, and I don’t want to go back to the parking lot at work.”

“Jack’s Corner Pocket is no longer a problem. I took care of the vortices.”

“Already? How?”

“I had to seal and control the vortex over on Hermosa. Once I accomplished that, the negative repercussions balanced themselves out. I went back to Jack’s to make sure. I had some work to do. All is relatively normal now.”

“Except for the demolished building,” she added.

“Yes. Except that. Your boss told me this is the greatest thing that has ever happened to him.”

“What?” Naomi asked, confused.

“Jack told me he is very well insured. Only the back of the building was destroyed, and the pool tables were all spared. They are saying the cause is an unknown structural failure.”

“That sounds a lot like my diagnosis. I guess western medicine hasn’t quite figured out astral projection and spiritual distress. The doctors have no idea how my brain works.”

“They wouldn’t know. Western medicine is very narrow thinking. It is one reason I stay in business. They are good at looking after muscles and bones. How is your neck?” He noticed she was not wearing a neck brace.

“It’s a little sore but fine. I'll take it easy until I feel better.” Uncertainty shadowed her face and Naomi glanced away. Chris watched her aura shift, financial concerns mingling with instability in the energetic field around her body.

“Your camper trailer is no longer parked at the billiard hall.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Where’s my house? Was it impounded?” Her fingers ran over her scalp, and she gripped two handfuls of hair and squeezed.

“I towed your camper to my house. I didn’t want anyone to steal it or have it taken away with your car.”

“You what? Really?”

“If you want, you can camp next to my cabin until your car is repaired or replaced.”

“Are you kidding me right now, Mr. Medicine Man?”

“I am not kidding.”

“Oh my God. Yes!”

“It is settled then.”

“No, it isn’t. I want to thank you. For everything. How about I make you dinner? In my camper. Tonight. Are you busy later?”

Chris wanted to help Naomi out. He didn’t expect any form of payment. Letting her park the camper in his yard had been Talks to the Wind’s idea. Naomi lost her car and her job in a matter of minutes. He was only doing what any decent person would do.

“You helped by making me aware of the vortices in town. The whole town owes you. I do not need anything from you in return. There's a wooded lot and plenty of space at my place. If you haven’t figured it out, I am not a very social person. Dinner is not necessary.”

“Okay, first of all, duh. You are one of the most awkward people I have ever met, and second, I sort of like that about you. Third, I’m going to cook something tonight. I don’t know what, but you’re coming over to eat with me so I can thank you.”

Chris lowered his gaze, breaking eye contact with Naomi as he considered the multiple repercussions of having dinner with this woman. He glanced back up and saw a hint of expectancy and a touch of uncertainty in her beguiling liquid brown eyes as she waited for his response.

“What time?” he asked.

* * *

“I don’t cook,” she confessed.

Naomi stood by the miniature sink in her ridiculously tiny camper smiling at Chris. He stood just outside the door, peering in and making no move to enter.

“But I can order food to be delivered like a ninja.”

“You don’t cook,” he reiterated.

“I can… I just don’t. I mean, look at my kitchen. It’s sort of small.”

Chris coughed.

“Your face would suggest you’re wondering why I asked you over for dinner?”

Chris ran a knuckle down the bridge of his nose. “You ordered take-out?”

Naomi laughed as she reached for a covered bowl on the counter. “Nope. I thought about it, but I didn’t — this time.”

The way she said “this time” hopefully implied there would be another dinner together in the future. Naomi wanted the chance to get to know Chris Abeyta better. He intrigued her, and that rarely happened. He gave off such mixed signals — something else that sparked her curiosity.

“Come on in, silly. It’s ready and waiting.”

Naomi placed the bowl on her converted bed/dining table, peeled the plastic lid off and spun around to grab the champagne. She hadn’t heard Chris move and had no idea he stood right behind her.

Startled enough to make her heart skip, she jumped, placed her hands against his chest to stop herself from running into him and yelped. This elicited an eyebrow raise from Chris as he looked down at her hands and then into her eyes.

“Your house is even smaller than mine.”

“It has everything I need.” She didn’t lower her hands. Chris may not be as large a guy as she was used to dating, but there was nothing soft about him. She felt the dense muscles of his chest through his vest and shirt. And he was taller than she remembered. Being out of body did strange things to one’s perspective.

She made to move around him in the tiny square footage, and Chris went the same direction, they veered the other way, simultaneously correcting and ended up doing an awkward dance in the center of her travel trailer. Both stopped moving, her smiling, Chris frowning.

“Our first dance?”

“There’s no music,” he said.

They shimmied around each other, and Naomi grabbed the split of champagne from her mini fridge. “I can fix that.”

Chris sat at the table as she set the champagne down, then turned to the shelf that held her MP3 player and docking station. Her crystal prayer grid glowed softly, working its magic. After the accident, her grid had been a jumbled pile of stones, copper wire, and scraps of paper. Rebuilding turned out to be a good thing. Starting over from scratch felt cleansing and that made her happy. Naomi chose her coffee shop playlist, a mix of acoustic rock, jazz, bluegrass, and other songs that didn’t require head banging, mosh pits, or anything else inappropriate for an intimate dinner.

Before sitting down with Chris at the table, she did something she hardly ever showed anyone. She thought Chris would accept her skills without question, or fear. Naomi picked up the small box of matches from the table and lit one. She held the flame in front of her, closed her eyes, and then lightly blew the flame toward the table. The match extinguished, but the tiny orange and yellow flame rolled like a ball through the air toward the food. The fire darted beneath the pot, lighting the chafing fuel with a whoosh of blue flame, then soared over and landed in Naomi’s green pillar candle, lighting the wick. She waved a hand at the curtains surrounding the table, and they pulled aside letting in the evening light.

Chris remained motionless as she worked her minor magic, but a smile sat on his lips when she was done. She slid into the seat opposite him.

“Now it’s ready. Dive in. Oh, wait. One last thing.” She concentrated on the small bottle of champagne, visualizing the bubbles and the air inside pushing upward and out of the bottle. The cork shot out, hit the ceiling, and ricocheted across the trailer. “I forgot to open that.”

“You are harmonious with the air.”

She beamed. She knew he’d understand. “Just as you are with the spirit world.”

“In a way.”

She winked at him, and they picked up their forks.

“This is how you don’t cook.” Chris gestured to the fondue pot and the plates of cut up vegetables, meat, and bread.

“This isn’t cooking. This is simple.”

“It’s more cooking than I generally do.”

“But you’re a dude. Most men I know don’t really cook. They just heat stuff up. Which is sort of what we’re doing now.”

He didn’t agree or disagree but dipped another chunk of French bread into the melted cheese.

After he had finished chewing, he said, “And the champagne is better than I thought it would be. It complements the fondue.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’ve been saving it until I found a vortex. I always celebrate when I find a new one.”

“I’m sorry you were not there to see when I closed it.”

“Don’t apologize. I feel it in the air and under the ground. It’s not as strong as the first morning, but it still exists.”

Chris nodded as he tried a piece of beef in the cheese sauce. “It was like capping a well. The vortex is a powerful one. It needed to be restricted. I don’t have to explain it all. You saw what happened when it was fully open.”

She watched him carefully and felt the intention in his words. “It’s nice to talk about it with someone who understands. I’m going to guess you don’t have someone to talk with about your work very often?” She made it a question.

Chris delayed answering. She wondered if she inadvertently crossed a line with him. Like most witches she knew, she was highly sensitive to other people and their behavior and attitudes. Empathy had its rewards, but also its challenges.

He leaned against the backrest, forearms resting on the table. “Most days speaking to anyone is a horrible effort. I would skip it altogether if I could get away with it. Right now, I don’t mind talking to you about the case. I’m not sure what to make of the connection between us. This is new for me.”

Naomi considered this pronouncement for a second. “I guess with the right company, anything can happen,” she said cheerily and dipped an apple slice in the cheese.

“Or, I’ve been possessed.”

“Oh, but Mr. Shaman, you’re way too powerful to be influenced by some puny little evil spirit.”

“Anything can happen,” he said flatly, but a half smile teased the side of his mouth as he mimicked her words.

They dipped and twirled cheese on the ends of their fondue forks for a few minutes, then Chris said, “There are many new birds in my yard today.”

As if on cue, a robin sang out as if to rule the neighborhood. The birdsong filled the camper, overriding the music playing through the speakers.

“They follow me,” she admitted.

“I like it. They sound happy that you are here. I think the bird population has tripled.”

“I’m happy to be here too,” she said. If that wasn’t a blunt hint she was interested, she didn’t know what was.

“Do you hear them at five o’clock in the morning?”

“I don’t. I sleep like a rock… a rock beneath a rock. Not much gets through when my eyes are closed.”

“Good to know,” he said. “You were the same way out of body.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Naomi was subtly making up her mind about Chris and how far she would go with him. Her gut knew she would go all the way if he hinted any attraction to her. She was curious, but so much more than that. Her nerve endings sizzled when she was near him, and the butterflies were on crack. It had been a long time since there had been butterflies and she couldn’t ignore it. And that kiss. He kissed as if he was interested.

“Do you want to eat dessert outside? Listen to the birds while we eat chocolate?”

Chris’s gaze lowered to the table where no chocolate was in sight. Was this mixed signals again, or was she trying too hard to figure him out?

“Sure,” he said.

She rose from the table and grabbed the tray of fruit and cake. She turned to hand it over to Chris. Once again, he stood behind her without her hearing him move. It was unnerving. Then it dawned on her that when she astral traveled she most likely did the same thing to him. Although Chris, of all people, would be used to being around others who never made any physical sound… since they didn’t exist in the third dimension. “Can you carry this for me?”

He took the dessert tray, and she picked up the small covered pot from the stove. Chris led her through the gate and around the side of the cabin to his patio where he placed the tray on the table.

“Will you start the fire? I’d like to see you practice your craft again.” He nodded toward the stone fire pit built into the patio. Kindling wood sat in the center waiting to be lit.

A crisp nip in the autumn evening gave her baby goose bumps — not full-fledged goose bumps but smaller ones. A fire would be perfect to lift the chill.

Naomi placed the chocolate fondue pot on the table and turned her attention to the fire ring. She wanted to cast an illusion this time and considered how to go about it. With Chris watching, a tiny amount of expectancy warmed the center of her chest. She listened to the robin belting out his evening song and heard the fluttering wings of a junco as it darted across the patio. She glanced skyward for a moment, thinking, and noticed the first star of the night. Then she had it.

Naomi murmured under her breath. “Star light, star night. Cast away all that is bright. Let yourself be the only one, and share with me your fire until I say you’re done.” A soft wind brought the smells of fall, dry earth, and leaf mulch. Dead grasses rustled as the illusion of midnight fell over them like a black veil. The single star Naomi had been watching fell from the heavens in an arc of blue flame. The star came to rest mere inches in front of her nose. Naomi snapped her fingers and pointed to the fire pit. The star shot over to the stone ring and dove beneath the splintered kindling wood. A shower of neon blue and white sparks danced around the twigs and branches until a small flame ignited. The orange and yellow fire lifted the enchantment, and the backyard came into focus. Pleased with her creativity and spontaneity on demand, she played it cool by walking over to the pot of warm chocolate sauce and removing the lid.

“What’s your favorite thing to dip in chocolate?” She uncovered the tray and picked up a strawberry.

Chris’s gaze held steady on the growing flames. “Great Spirit gave us the stars. The Sacred Mother gives us life. It is rare to find someone blessed with many gifts from both Creator and his counterpart.” His eyebrows rose and fell as if contemplating and accepting Naomi’s talents in one subtle yet expressive gesture. His eyes shifted to her face. If she weren’t mistaken, his appreciation of her magic passed like an invisible current from him to her, stroking her ego without using any further words. She smiled as she dipped the berry in the chocolate.

He continued. “I don’t know what I like to dip. I’ve never eaten chocolate fondue before.”

She caught herself before her jaw dropped. It never occurred to her that someone could go through life without having eaten chocolate dipped strawberries… or apples, pound cake, and pretzels. Who was this guy? She needed to correct this depravity. “Then you have to try everything.”

He sat down next to her at the table and Naomi winked as she handed him a strawberry covered in silky smooth dark chocolate.

“Pretzels and blueberries,” Chris said after trying one of each item on the tray. “And you like all of it.”

“I do.” She grinned and reached for the last marshmallow.

“This is more chocolate than I have ever eaten in one sitting. Excuse me one minute.” Chris rose from the table and went inside through the back door of the cabin.

Naomi wondered if he went inside to be sick. Wouldn’t that be a great story to tell later? The title could be, Naomi’s Dates Gone Tragically Awry. But Chris didn’t say anything about being ill. He returned twice. Once carrying two large glasses of water, and the second time holding a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

“The water helps wash down all the sugar,” he explained after drinking his entire glass. He placed a hand on the cobalt blue wine bottle. “Would you like to share this with me? I don’t normally drink wine, but a client gave it to me. Since you like champagne, I thought you might like this as well.”

Naomi read the label. “I’m down for a little Moscato d’Asti. Maybe it will be my new favorite wine to go with the cake and blueberries. They are my two favorites today.”

Chris poked the corkscrew from his pocketknife into the top of the bottle and twisted. He pulled the cork out with the anticipated ‘pop’ of released air and filled two glasses. He moved his chair closer to the fire and Naomi did the same.

As Chris added a log to the fire, he asked, “Does your favorite food change often?”

“Of course. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

“Is that so?”

She was getting used to his deadpan looks. And more than that, used to the subtle shifts of his almost unreadable expressions. “Absolutely,” she flirted.

“That’s frightening.”

“It’s good for a man to be a little scared by a woman.” She sipped her wine and watched him over the rim of the glass.

“I think you just touched the edge of a little-known wisdom.”

Naomi didn’t have a chance to reply, even though the quip sat on the tip of her tongue. For an entirely different reason, Chris was not the only one who was scared now. Naomi let out a piercing yelp as a shadow appeared behind Chris — and spoke.

“My favorite brother is having a ceremonial fire and did not invite me. What did I do to shame you? Where are the medicine men?”

The ghost stepped into the light and Naomi saw it was Talks to the Wind. Only she saw him from Chris’s lap. Her arms were around his neck, and she buried her face against his chest. She glanced up to see Chris looking surprised if not shocked to find her seated on top of him.

She honestly didn’t remember moving. Naomi did a double take to make sure she had not jumped out of her body. Then she remembered the anklets, and how they kept her from astral projecting. Apparently, they worked great.

“You are mistaken. I have no ceremonial fire tonight.”

With arms crossed in front of his chest, Talks to the Wind looked them over. His gaze shifted to the table, the leftover food, and the bottle of wine. A slow smile spread across his wide mouth.

“You’re having a night with your new woman. The guides and I like this one. I am glad she has not run off to find someone not as ugly as you.”

Naomi wanted to defend Chris’s looks. He wasn’t ugly at all. In her opinion, he was extremely good looking. That is, if imploring sexy eyes above cut cheekbones, a strong jaw, a lean torso, and sinewy sculpted muscles meant a man was good looking. It certainly did to Naomi. He was hot. Then she realized the insults were part of the banter.

“Did you need something? Or are you here to generally annoy and disturb my night off?”

“Annoy? What is this annoy? I am unfamiliar with your English words.”

Naomi knew he had a perfectly fine grasp on the English language and continued to taunt Chris.

“Not now, Talks to the Wind. I’m off duty.” Chris reached down and set his wineglass on the patio. He was careful not to tip Naomi off his lap. She saw her own wineglass near the chair leg and could not for the life of her remember placing it there.

Talks to the Wind’s grin spread into a wide smile. The gap between his front teeth flashed before he disappeared back from wherever he had come from. She shivered and ducked her head again. Goddess help her. She was never going to get used to spirits and ghosts. This could become a real issue considering she wanted to date a ghost hunting shaman.

“I almost forgot. I have interesting information for Fish Face. It can wait until you’re back on duty.”

She heard Talks to the Wind’s voice as if he sat next to them, even though he was no longer visible. Her hypersensitive nature, combined with the fear, sent a shiver colder than dry ice cascading through her bloodstream. Naomi shuddered and promptly passed out.

“You can come back now,” Chris said over her. He gently nudged her cheek as he spoke. “Talks to the Wind will not be back tonight. Naomi, wake up. His visit is not that upsetting.”

His baritone timbre lulled, enticed, and pulled at her. She drifted back to consciousness and opened her eyes. She breathed deep until her heartbeat returned to normal. Naomi stared up into the depths Chris’s nearly black eyes and glimpsed a soft side to the shaman. She saw a man with bottomless empathy and a soul so ancient that time seemed to disappear.

Naomi ran her hand up his chest until she cupped the back of his neck. She sat up and guided him to meet her halfway. He closed the gap between them and their lips met, tentative in the beginning, but a rush of pleasure and need passed between them like lightning.

It was spontaneous and thrilling. She hadn’t wanted to be with anyone since before she packed up her car and camper and left home in search of vortices, which had been over six months ago. Oh yeah, Naomi was ready to fool around. She was more than ready, and Chris seemed of a similar mind. They rose from the patio chair, kissing as they stumbled toward the door to the cabin. The screen door swung open, and Chris held her against the doorjamb kissing her properly before moving through the sunroom to the hallway. Her back to the wall, and his leg pressed between her thighs, Chris nibbled her earlobe and asked, “What are we doing?”

“Getting to know each other better.” She was certainly getting better acquainted with the muscles beneath his shirt.

“This is okay with you?” he asked as his mouth traveled to the small divot above her collarbone.

“Oh, definitely.”

A low masculine groan rumbled out of his throat. Chris whisked her away from the wall, pivoted, and guided her through the nearest doorway. Naomi found herself kissing Chris on the bed. She didn’t stop there, and neither did he.

Chapter Seven

“I COULD NEVER be in a relationship with a smoker.”

Naomi took a drag off the clove cigarette. She exhaled, blowing the smoke away from Chris. “Geez, judgmental much?”

“Against poisoning myself? Yes, I am.”

“So you think you’re being exposed to second-hand smoke and the chemicals in my cigarette are poisoning you?” She stubbed out the poison in question.

“Correct.”

“But you admit to using tobacco on a fairly regular basis with your ceremonies.” She tipped her head to the side and eyed him on an angle. “Let me guess. That’s entirely different.”

“It is.”

“Well, what if I told you smoking is medicinal? It soothes my anxiety and helps me focus.”

Chris’s steady gaze remained cautious, and he tried to hide the humor he always seemed to feel when he spoke with her. She wasn’t lying — exactly. Naomi’s beguiling deceptions were more in line with manipulating the truth to suit one’s needs. Her cunning and crafty womanly ways enticed him as much as terrified. Part of him knew he should run, forget about her, and part of him wanted to take her straight to his bed. It was a precarious conundrum he’d never found himself in before. “Medicine and vice are two different things.”

“Touché, Mr. Abeyta, touché.” Naomi dug into her shoulder bag and took out a piece of candy. The wrapper crinkled and then she popped the candy into her mouth. Sweet green apple scented the air. “Oh, and by the way, I quit. I’m no longer a smoker,” she said around the candy.

Chris snorted. He actually snorted at her declaration. “You quit right now?”

“I did. You gave up your solitude to let me camp here, and I gave up cigarettes.”

“I will believe it when I see it.” Chris rose from the patio chair and looked out over the yard. The birds were going crazy — again. Anytime Naomi stepped outside they sang, chirped, and fluttered from branch to branch. He began imagining he lived in a bird sanctuary.

Chris spent the entire day focused on a new case, and he was in a quiet mood. He had not talked to her since the day before, even though she lived thirty feet from his front door.

“Have you ever had a major head injury?” she asked.

He cast a barbed stare her direction and waited for her to get to the point. Innocent, she was not. He knew Naomi was having fun at his expense.

“If I have, I don’t have a recollection of it.”

She laughed and the sound mingled with the birds. “Good answer. So, I’ll say that you had a brain injury, and that would explain a lot about you.”

“You’re so kind,” he said with a hint of bitterness that wasn’t really bitter at all. She was probably correct in her assessment.

“I don’t have to be kind. You just told me you would never date a smoker.”

“And you told me you no longer are one.”

“Well, well, boyo, does that mean we are officially dating? I mean I have seen you naked and all. And I sort of approve if you wanted to take this… whatever this is.” She waved a slender hand in the air gesturing from him to her. “To the next level.”

“You have been staying the night in my house. I was under the impression we had moved to the next level.” Great Spirit help him. He would never understand the inner workings of the female mind.

“You just said you would never be in a relationship with someone who smoked.”

Naomi seemed confused.

He revised. “I have been trying to decide if you are a smoker. I have only seen you with clove cigarettes three times since we met six weeks ago.”

“Because I smoke occasionally, just like you do.”

“It is not like I do. I use tobacco for ceremonial purposes.”

“Haven’t we circled this block before?”

Chris eyed her from his peripheral vision. Her aura would suggest she was completely at ease. His aura, on the other hand, roiled in a colorful mess of emotions. No woman had ever bewildered him quite this much. One part of him could not take the turmoil and another part of him wanted more. It was all very confusing. The contentment he experienced when he woke up next to her in the morning felt solid, real, and lodged in his psyche. But she smoked. That turned him off as much as if she were addicted to gambling or alcohol.

“You’re right. We have. We are moving on to a new subject,” he said.

“Canoodling? We both like that subject.”

“No. I mean yes, no. Later. Maybe.” Flustered, he gave her a quizzical glance and frowned. “Where do you come up with these words?”

“Not everyone is as stiff and formal as you are, Mr. Deadpan Medicine Man.”

Chris ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow.

“So if we’re not snogging, what’s up?”

Thrown off course, Chris had to think for a second before remembering what he wanted to say. “Talks to the Wind told me about a vortex in the Four Corners region. He says it is largely unknown.”

“When did he tell you this?”

“Early this morning when I worked outside.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for asking him to not come inside when I’m here.”

“It is nothing. Very few spirits, you being one of them, and only my guides can enter my cabin without permission. Talks to the Wind can knock on the door like any other guest.”

“Still, it’s thoughtful of you. Tell him I appreciate it.”

“You can tell him. He will be back tomorrow. He wants to share his news with you. I told him you would not pass out again if he arrived in the form of a living person.”

Naomi cocked a brow. “Let me guess. Talks to the Wind said, ‘Why should I knock? I like scaring Fish Face.’”

Chris grinned. “You know him well already.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” Naomi shifted her bag aside on the patio table and rose to her feet.

“Better to go with the flow when it comes to Talks to the Wind.”

“Go with the flow?” she mocked. “I think I’m starting to rub off on you.”

Chris scratched his head and didn’t remark on her observation. Instead, he returned to the subject of the vortex. “Will you try to find it?”

“A new power place? Yeah, absolutely. That’s why I’m out West. I want to find as many as I can.”

“When your car is finally fixed or before?” He didn’t want to think about her leaving. This realization equally surprised and worried him. Was he so attached to Naomi that the thought of her leaving town upset him?

Naomi stood in front of him and tipped her face up to his. She raised her hand and brushed her mass of curls away from her face. Her hair hung loosely today, instead of being held back with a headband or in braids. He liked it when she let it down. There was so much of it, like a black and sable mane around her stunning face.

“I don’t know when I’ll go. I never planned to stay in the mountains for the winter. The snow is already starting to stick to the ground. Camper trailers aren’t the warmest accommodations.”

He returned her gaze. Eye contact with Naomi was always extreme. She stared into him, and he wasn’t used to anyone seeing him naked.

“If I had a boyfriend, he might offer to go with me. If he had a truck, we could tow my trailer and camp together.”

The smile took him a moment, but before he let it show, he said, “That would be nice of your boyfriend. Do I know him? I would offer some advice on your nutritional habits or lack of them. Your fear of ghosts should be noted as well.”

Naomi’s lips tightened, and her eyes narrowed the slightest amount. He clearly saw the hot-tempered Korean blood she inherited from her mother. Getting a rise out of her could be so interesting. Her aura would shift from soft pastels that reached out toward him to sharp contrasting colors that poked and prodded at his etheric body.

She stood taller. “There is nothing wrong with what I like to eat.”

It took a lot of concentration to keep the grin from escaping. “You think eating a bag of cheese popcorn and drinking a mimosa is a healthy dinner — or breakfast.”

Her mouth popped open, and she did the “fish lips” thing. Chris hardened his jaw. Now he wanted to laugh aloud. Naomi huffed and started to walk away. Chris snagged her hand and reeled her in.

“I am joking with you, Fish Face.”

“Did I ever tell you not to call me that, buddy-boy?”

“Did I ever tell you I do not like being called anything other than Chris?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her against him. She didn’t pull away from the embrace.

“I’m sure you have, Mr. Sourpuss.”

Chris’s brows gathered as he considered her for a moment. She irked him. She didn’t cook. She was the most loosely connected person to the physical realm he’d ever met. She was currently unemployed and lived wherever the winds blew. Her magic astounded him and her irrational fear of spirits and other entities charmed him. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“I have an idea. Well, it wasn’t my idea. Rumor has it that I am not as smart as the person who came up with it. This person believes I suffered a closed head injury at some point in my life.”

Naomi suppressed a giggle. “I like this person. What did she say?”

“She thinks I should hook up my girlfriend’s camper trailer to my truck and go search for an energy vortex together.”

“Your girlfriend?” Naomi asked.

“That’s right. What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s an outstanding idea.”

The smile he held back finally escaped. Expectation and anticipation flashed through her bewitching eyes as she tipped her full lips up to his. He nearly missed her cue. Being in a relationship would probably kill him, but for Naomi, he was willing to try. He leaned down and kissed her before missing his chance. She responded to him with equal desire. He wanted this, he realized. He wanted her. And he looked forward to whatever the future held in store for them.

~ Thank you for reading ~

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Other Works Available

An Angel Falls series

Death Lies Between Us #1

Angel Dreams #2

Haunting Me #3

Book #4 coming soon

The Call (A subscriber exclusive novella)

The Misplaced

Historical Time Travel series

The Night Medicine

Witches of Lane County

Heart of the Secret

A Witch’s Fate

Granite Lake Romance

Unwrapping Treasure #1

Chasing Treasure #2

Book #3 coming soon

&

A new adult coming of age novel

When We’re Entwined

About the Author

Jody A. Kessler is a USA Today bestselling author. Her debut novel, Death Lies Between Us, book one in the An Angel Falls series, is the winner of the Readers’ Crown Award for Best Paranormal Romance. She writes contemporary romance, historical time travel fiction, and paranormal fiction. She is the author of the An Angel Falls series, Granite Lake Romance series, The Night Medicine and more.

When Jody isn’t navigating the terrain of her imagination and writing it down, she can be found exploring the wilderness of Colorado with her family, or in the kitchen baking cookies & brownies – and trying not to eat them all. She’s passionate about continuing to learn and reads anything and everything that catches her interest.

Jody A. Kessler invites you to stop by her website and see what’s new at www.JodyAKessler.com.

You can also connect with her on Facebook at Jody A. Kessler, or on Twitter @JodyAKessler.

Acknowledgements

To John and Nancy. My books would not exist without the two of you. I want to thank my family and friends for their continued support. Thank you to my beta readers and proofreaders—you know who you are. Lastly, I want to thank my readers. I appreciate every one of you.

Read a Free Preview of

Death Lies Between Us

An Angel Falls ~ Book 1

Readers’ Crown Award Winning Novel for

Best Paranormal Romance.

Chapter One: Getting Unsettled

Nathaniel

MAYBE IF I had been raised by people who cared, no, that really wasn’t fair. Maybe if they had been capable of caring, then perhaps, I would have become someone. Someone successful, someone who excelled and had a purpose in life. Instead… I became someone who died.

Thoughts of my childhood rarely come to the surface. They’re like those fish, you know, the ones everyone thinks have been extinct for a million years and then one floats to the surface to be rediscovered. I would rather those memories never rise up for examination. I close my eyes, making a vain attempt to shut the door on the past, and the world in front of me. It’s pathetic and unsuccessful. Opening them, I find loneliness has moved in to stand beside me. He becomes my new best friend, reminding me of who I am while I wait for the inevitable to happen.

In front of me is my new client.

She scratches her pen with fury across the paper. Her face is intent and her eyes are hidden under black lashes, but there’s something about the way she holds her head, the way her lips are pressed together as if sadness has sealed them. It tugs at a memory, the memory of being left in the car while my parents drank at their favorite bar, sealing my lips, setting my jaw in stubbornness while casting my eyes down to hide my feelings from my mother as she says, “stay in the car Nathaniel, your father and I will be right back,” then waking up hours later stuck to the vinyl seat and wondering if we’re going home now. I shake it off; that fish needs to stay buried beneath the sea.

Who is she? Why her? How long do we have? I ask myself these questions again and again, but this time I have a sense that I don’t want to know the answers, and I have no choice but to find them out.

Her focus on the notebook in her lap is complete. I can all but see the iron walls that surround her, but it doesn’t intimidate me. Intrigue has already washed through me for this girl, but for right now, I don’t cross her line.

Give her some time. She has so little of it left.

I wish she would look up and give me a small taste of what’s behind her curtain of black hair and under those lashes. If I could get a glimpse of her eyes, then I’d know if the intensity I feel is radiating from somewhere within her as I suspect it is. Their eyes always give me a hint of what to expect, after it happens. Will she struggle with her fate, or will she walk away with ease?

“Jules? Hey, Jules. What do you think of this?”

“Hmmm?” she asks, not looking up.

Surprised, I turn to see who’s speaking. He sits on the edge of a worn green velvet chair with a guitar in his hands. One long leg stretches out across the floor in front on him. He’s young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. I hadn’t noticed him. The ivory skinned girl in front of me, Jules, had been holding my attention to the exception of everything else.

“Listen,” he says. He strums out a melody and then follows it with an intricate solo on a midnight blue Gibson. “What do ya’ think?”

“Yeah, great, Jared. Just write that?” she mumbles. Her pen taps the paper. Her eyes flash his way but are gone again before I can see them with any real clarity.

He shakes his head at her and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Jules. Sorry to interrupt your musings.”

“Shut up,” she says without any threat.

“You writing for the band?”

“No.”

“Too bad. We could use some new lyrics.”

She hunches back over her notebook. I look the guitar player over and then at her again, finding similarities. They have the same shiny black hair, high cheek bones, wide mouths, and straight noses. Jared is darker skinned and taller, and she is more delicate overall, but they are the male and female version of each other. Siblings, I would bet money on it.

Besides the obvious, the guitar, Jared is the picture of a rock star. His hair is tied back in a short tail; he’s wearing dark grungy jeans with the right shoes and there is the name of some obscure band on his concert T-shirt. The piercings in his ears and eyebrow are noticeable, but not obnoxious. He is the type of guy who will never have difficulty getting a date. He continues to thrum and pick at the strings. I would rate his intensity coming in just under hers.

The scratch of Jules’ pen continues.

I watch a while longer, trying to adjust to my new surroundings. This homey room is a far stretch from the stress-filled hospital scene I’ve just left behind. Jules sits on a double bed next to an old trunk. Potted plants cover the surface of a white dresser next to the velvet chair where Jared practices. The mirrored closet doors reflect the view of tall pines touching a perfect blue sky outside the only window in the room.

I don’t see myself in the mirror. I have no reflection. It’s something I may never get used to. My attention is brought back to the black trunk with its brass trim. A stereo with stacks of CDs cover most of its surface, but there are also a few books, a lamp, and a candle. The room is simple and uncluttered, reminding me of my own room, before… when I lived.

The bed creaks as Jules’ unfolds her jean clad legs. She straightens her rounded spine and sets her shoulders back. I step forward out of curiosity and lean down to read the paper. Spidery black scrawl covers everything but near the center of the page is a grouping of short lines, it resembles poetry. I can just make out the words, ‘he left us behind, when will it be my time,’ when Jules clears her throat. I lift my eyes to her face. She looks right at me. I take a half step back. Somber green eyes flecked with gold and rust stare into mine. Her irises bring to mind a red fox running through tall green grass, camouflaged, sleek, wild, and graceful. Her arched brows rise in unspoken question. I hear the sound of the notebook closing on her lap. Her eyes shift to the door and she frowns, making her look even more solemn.

Why the sadness? I wish I’d gotten a better look in her book.

“Go.”

I hear it as clear as if someone had spoken inside my head. Not my own voice, but female, her voice. Unsure, I take another step back, keeping my eyes on her, and not leaving. She stares out the door into a hallway, cool distance on her face. Anxious agitation crawls through me as I wonder what the implications are of being seen ahead of time. I’ve been seen before, not by one of my cases, and not often, but it has happened. I’ve found some people are more sensitive than others to my presence. Most of the people who do ‘see’ me are frightened, letting fear of the unknown control their emotions, but if I’m not mistaken, she had just nonverbally, and calmly, told me to get out. That has never happened before. Instead of leaving, I move closer, unable to resist the urge to see what she’ll do.

She turns away from me as if repelled by an unseen odor then shoves the notebook and pen into a black backpack. Sliding to the edge of the bed, she stands and moves toward the door.

“Jared, I’m going downstairs to eat. Do you want anything?”

She looks and sounds calm, but it did not escape my notice how swiftly she moved away from me. Loneliness starts to slide off my back. Maybe this time will be different.

“Nope,” he says, with his head bent over the strings.

She brushes a long fingered hand over her scalp, pushing her waist length hair away from her face then tucks loose strands behind her ear.

She unsettles me with a direct green gaze, shakes her head once and walks out of the room, muttering, “You barely eat anymore, Jared. Are you feeling all right?”

Jared doesn’t answer, or acknowledge that he even heard.

I stand motionless. Her reaction was bewildering. Did she see me or not? Most of my assignments ignore me until they absolutely can’t get away with it any longer. The exception are the older ones, sometimes they’re ready for me, sometimes not.

I’d been frustrated beyond belief with my last case. The multi-car pileup was complete chaos. Broken cars and broken bodies, emergency personnel and bystanders cluttered the scene, but it was my client making me grit my teeth. I secretly called him Mr. Curmudgeon. He kept insisting he didn’t need a doctor and telling me to go away. He refused to believe he’d died and was inconsolable about his wife’s condition. She was injured and dying, and he wouldn’t leave her side. She was not in my charge and I thought she had a ways to go before crossing over. I made every attempt to persuade him to move on, or to take a step back, but his resistance only grew. I ended up letting Marcus, my mentor and friend, take over.

I don’t know what I would have done without Marcus there. He always knows what to do; in this case it was all about waiting. Mr. Curmudgeon wasn’t going anywhere without his wife, including to the afterlife. I was starting to believe I’d failed at my job; I’d actually lost a client. That’s the worst thing that can happen to one of us. Marcus thought Mrs. Curmudgeon — she wasn’t anything like the husband, her name was Mrs. Miller — would talk some sense into him. Marcus’s non-plan of waiting for the wife was a success. She died sooner than I expected and the husband passed into the next world without even one last snide or gritty remark flung my way. Everyone is unique, I remind myself, including this gorgeous girl.

I take one last look at Jared. His fingers continue to move with practiced precision over the steel strings. Like most people, he’s unaware of my presence. Turning away from the young guitarist, I feel the pull to stay close to Jules.

Who is this girl? She looks so young. Close to my own age when I… forget that. What is it about dying young that seems so unjust? The old curmudgeon, Mr. Miller, he had a full life and a wife who loved him. They looked like they were in their late seventies at least, plenty of time to experience some life. How much time does Jules have? It isn’t enough. She doesn’t even look twenty years old. I groan and shake my head to clear it. These assignments can be awful, and depressing. Suck it up, damn it! This is who you are now. You have one thing to do here, put your feelings in a deep dark hole where they belong and get on with it. Do your job Nathaniel. Don’t get over involved.

I find Jules in the kitchen, the top half of her is missing inside the refrigerator. I lean against the wall. Her spine stiffens for a moment, and then relaxes. Is it a coincidence or does she know I’m near? She backs away from the fridge with a large bowl in one hand and a bottle of salad dressing in the other. She sets them down on the countertop and grabs a bowl and fork from the dish rack by the sink.

While filling her bowl with some of the salad, the phone on the end of the counter rings.

“Hello?” She pauses, listening.

“We’re fine, Mom. Just hanging out. Jared’s upstairs playing his guitar and I’m going for a hike.”

As she listens with the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder, her hands are busy with the bottle of dressing followed by a pepper grinder.

“We’re okay, really. Work as long as you need to. I’ll see you tomorrow or sometime. Yes, I promise I’ll be careful.”

There’s another short silence followed by Jules saying, “I won’t forget to tell him. Bye, Mom, love you too.” She hangs up and reaches for the salt shaker, but doesn’t shake it over her food; she shakes it over her left shoulder then puts it back next to the pepper.

I keep my distance, standing near the dining table, and let Jules crunch on her salad in peace. Minutes later a loud thump from the direction of the stairs precedes Jared’s entrance to the kitchen. He waggles his eyebrows at Jules, and smiles, looking like he’s just eaten the canary.

“Jumping off the stairs again?” Jules asks.

“Pulled a 540,” he answers proudly.

“Mom’s gonna kill you if you break the floor, or your neck,” Jules says.

“I didn’t flip,” Jared defends. “Hey, was that Mom on the phone?” he asks. His tone resonates, making him sound even more like a rock star.

“Yeah, she’s staying at work again. She says, ‘no parties in the house or else risk deportation or disembowelment, your choice.’”

“Harsh,” he says as one side of his mouth quirks into a grin. “That’s all right. I already have other plans tonight and… you’re coming with me.”

“Do I have to?” Jules asks with a dubious tone.

“If you want your little brother to stay sane and alive, you will.”

She sighs, mulling it over. After chewing a bite of food she says, “If those are my only choices then, where’re you going and who’s driving?”

It makes her sound like his mother. I also notice her grave attitude seems to be lessening by the minute. She appears more relaxed in the comfy kitchen than she was upstairs. Was it what she’d been writing about, or something else? Me? Hunger? I’ve seen people change from acting like an angry troll to purring like a contented kitty after filling an empty stomach, and she is scarfing down the greens, so maybe she was just hungry. She also hadn’t looked at me a single time in this kitchen.

“I’m waiting for Caleb to find out the details. But whatever happens tonight, you should hang out with us.”

She gives him a skeptical look then takes her empty dish to the sink.

“Don’t worry Jules, it’ll be cool.”

“Your version of cool isn’t always the same as mine. Hey?” she says to Jared’s back as he opens the sliding glass door.

“What?”

“I’m going hiking. Do you want to come with me?”

“Nah, hiking is for the birds.”

“I’m going over to Forge Rocks. It won’t take long,” she says trying to tempt him.

Jared stands in the sunlight on a wood deck behind the house looking back at Jules. “I’m waiting for Caleb and the guys. We want to get some practice time in.”

Jules grabs a purple bag and slings it over her shoulder then steps outside sliding the door shut behind her. She moves off the deck and then turns to her brother.

“If you’re still here when I get back I’ll consider going with you, okay? We wouldn’t want you to lose what little sanity you have left by doing something stupid.”

“Ah, it warms the heart to know you have so much confidence in me,” he teases.

“We both know it’s true.” She smiles, flashing straight white teeth.

Her mouth is captivating. Inside the house I’d been struck by her green and gold eyes but outside in the brightness of the day, her soft pink lips are incredible. It’s not just her mouth. She’s striking from head to toe. Mother Nature always finds a way to create perfection, and with Jules, she has done it again.

I look at Jared, and then back at Jules. She’s about fifty shades paler than he is, but they both glow with life and youth. I stare at her perfect lips and I’m floored by the rush of feelings I have toward her.

What’s wrong with you, fool? For crying out loud, she’s not even smiling at me. This case is definitely going to be different, probably in all the wrong ways.

Jared lights a joint and takes a long drag from it, holding in the smoke with a puffed up chest. His dark brows lift and his wide mouth curves into a grin around his marijuana cigarette. Jules shakes her head at him with disapproving good humor and then she turns, heading into the trees.

She doesn’t appear to be in any hurry as she brushes aside branches and skirts the underbrush. We emerge on a narrow trail where she turns right, heading north. I keep a moderate distance between us so as not to see her spine stiffen at my presence or hear her tell me to leave again. I can’t leave even if I wanted to. This is my job and I have to stay close now.

When the time comes, it’s my responsibility to help her leave her body behind and give reassurances that what lies ahead is indeed the right direction. People who can’t let go become haunted souls. They get stuck in transition or lose their ability to reason, sometimes both. As unsettling as this feeling is, to be watching and waiting for this vibrant girl to take that turn for the worst, she’s going to need me to stay around.

~ End preview ~

Available on Amazon

More From Jody A. Kessler

A Witch’s Fate

Witches of Lane County

(new release March 2017)

Tori Morgan is a modern-day witch from Lane County—and she’s cursed. Falling in love is not in Tori’s astrological chart, her cards, or anywhere else in her plans for the future. Falling for a skeptic who debunks the paranormal for a living is even less likely.

Leif Andersen doesn’t believe in magic or the paranormal. When he’s hired to investigate the mysterious death of former Hollywood actress and humanitarian, Delana Smootz, Leif is led straight to Tori Morgan’s door. There's no way he's going to fall for Tori or her woo-woo mysticism, no matter how magical she feels in his arms.

Sparks fly and an undeniable attraction sizzles as Tori and Leif travel the globe in search of a suspect and the answers to Delana’s supernatural downfall.

The Night Medicine

A historical time travel romance

In 2012, Blackfoot tribal member, Dean Wolfsblood, is the reluctant guardian of a centuries old medicine pipe that makes time travel possible. When Dean’s former Marine buddy, Badger Lowell, bribes him to take the arduous trip into the past, the last thing either of them expects during the “Night Medicine” ceremony is for an intruding grizzly bear to chase Kai, a beautiful and complicated Cree woman, into the past with them.

Upon arrival in 1868, the three unlikely companions discover deceit, murder, buffalo hunters, and a kidnapping waiting for them as they travel across mountains and plains to the gold mining town of Helena, Montana. As hidden motivations are exposed, secrets are revealed, and all well-meaning plans for their journey are cast away into the winds of time. Can they survive history and each other long enough to make it back, or will the past change their futures forever?

Unwrapping Treasure

A Granite Lake Romance novella

Paramedics, Treasure and Bodie, never imagined a routine emergency call would lead to a death-defying rescue and a sexy holiday vacation that changes their lives forever.

After escaping the chaos of work, they decide to spend their Christmas break at a secluded lakeside cabin deep in the heart of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. With soft snow falling, a warm fire in the hearth, and fresh cookies baking in the oven, an innocent weekend getaway quickly turns into a night of spontaneous passion with no strings attached.

Will Treasure and Bodie’s hasty decision to spend the night together prove disastrous, or will their relationship develop into something neither of them saw coming?

When We’re Entwined

A new adult coming of age novel

Former circus performer and aerial gymnast, Tara knows it’s time to move on. Tired of the constant abuse and the emotional rollercoaster ride at home, she takes to the road to perform on stage with her boyfriend and his band, Paradox 21.

Tara never imagined late night after-parties would lead to a devastating betrayal by her boyfriend and cause her summer tour to come to an abrupt end. Jobless, homeless, and broke in a city far from home, an eccentric homeless knight gives Tara fresh perspective and a serendipitous run-in with an old acquaintance—a punk named Corban—takes her on a spontaneous road trip that lands her a job with a traveling sideshow.

As Tara searches for a freedom she has never known, she documents her journey by writing her most embarrassing, profound, excruciating, and soul-searching moments in letters to her sister. Despite heartache, love and loss, Tara finds immeasurable strength and wisdom during her travels in this unforgettable adventure of self-discovery.

“When We’re Entwined is a gripping, emotional modern day adventure with a glimpse of alternative lifestyles in America as one vibrant, young aerial gymnast realizes cruelty and injustice can be outweighed by kindness, humor, and compassion with the help of a most unlikely and wildly colorful cast of characters.”

More information can be found at JodyAKessler.com

Available on Amazon

Select titles can be found at other major eBook distributors.

~ Thank you for reading ~

On the Back Cover

The Misplaced

Antisocial ghost hunter and shaman, Chris Abeyta, begins his day with an obnoxious, perky, and mysterious new client. Chris does not do “perky,” especially at four a.m. But the empathic and beguiling, Naomi, taunts him out of bed to discover an energy vortex and a horde of wicked ghosts overrunning his small mountain town.

Sleep deprived and unenthusiastic, Chris joins Naomi in solving the mystery of the vortex, but a run-in with a couple of misguided thugs while being taunted by an insufferable spirit guide does not improve his morning or his outlook.

Will Chris’s curmudgeonly ways ruin any romantic prospects with the vivacious and magical, Naomi, or has he finally met his match?