Tormented (A Secret Salem Novel 4) Page 2

  So I pushed him to go to school too. He left for Tulane weeks ago, reluctant and snarling the whole time. But it was be better for him this way. I didn’t want to drag him further into despair.

  A long, agony filled sigh drifted out my mouth as I turned on my side curling up under the covers alone in the massive bed. My fingers itched to grab my phone and call Demy back to Salem, to tell him to stay with me so I didn’t have to be alone. Instead I let my eyes fall closed, knowing the nightmares weren’t far.

  Chapter 2

  It was barely September, but autumn was fast approaching Salem like a hurried plague, spreading scents of pumpkin, apples, and cinnamon. Leaves were already changing to bright gold, orange, and sienna right before my eyes. A chill filled the air, calling people to cuddle up by the fire with hot cocoa and cider.

  I stepped over a crack in the sidewalk from old underground roots and kicked a leaf with my boot, watching it sail into the historic cobblestone road. Twisting trees hugged the sidewalk, branches hanging over like bones attempting to scoop up every passersby. Old colonial houses mixed with sharp angled cottages turned businesses lined the streets. Shop windows reflected the quaint autumn scene, giving a glossy, unreal feel to the world.

  One of my royal guards, Rufus, was already stationed across the street, leaning against a maple trunk while pretending to read the local paper. His mocha colored bald head gleamed even in the dull afternoon sun and no one seemed to notice or care he was dressed in all black with a long black coat that sported the royal symbol on over his heart. His soft chocolate eyes met mine, an infinitesimal nod of hello following.

  I quickly waved back, a ghost of a smile curling my lips before heading into Madame Josephine’s shop. The bell jingled over the door, alerting MJ I was there.

  “Oh, Rubi, you’re here.” She popped up from behind the counter, her long graying blonde waves cascading around her soft face like a wild mane. She flitted forward to meet me, swaying gently and tugging on the multicolored jeweled shawl around her shoulders. “Venus is in its moon cycle. I was worried you would be delayed or possibly detained today.” Her hands came together, fingertips slowly meeting each other until finally her palms touched. “But I see you are here.” She smiled, beaming down at me with watery blue eyes surrounded by crinkles.

  “Yes MJ. I’m here,” I said, putting my bag on the counter behind her.

  “I love my little nickname you made for me. MJ, where ever did you think of it?” She spoke in a lyrical voice that matched her spacey personality.

  Madam Josephine owned the shop where I worked. Of course I got a job. I couldn’t exactly sit around the Davenport house all day—as much as Whitmore and Miranda would have preferred that. Since I was now unbelievably filthy stinking rich and didn’t need a dime, all my money went to a feed the children charity. My parents cried when I told them. Actually cried.

  MJ bit her bottom lip. “I can’t remember what I did with the new shipment of crystal balls.” She blinked hopefully down at me, her 5’ 9” frame towering over my barely 5’ 3” one—or maybe 5’2”. “Do you?” Blink, blink.

  Madame Josephine’s was an occult shop with various Wiccan, Celtic, Pagan, and typical psychic paraphernalia. MJ was not really psychic—at least I didn’t think so—but she could defiantly play the part and knew her merchandise. She was quite a character, looking like a cross between a gypsy and hippie with more air in her head than a balloon. She didn’t know I was a vampire or princess. Hell, I didn’t think she even knew my last name.

  A few months ago I spotted her through the shop window trying and failing horribly to communicate with a ghost for a customer. Like I said, not psychic. Once she realized I could in fact see dead people she begged me to work for her. Normally I would have told her to take a hike, but it was the most perfect job I could have thought of.

  I wanted to be around dead people. The more the merrier.

  Mac’s ghost hadn’t visited me. Yet. I’d called to him and did all the séance’-y stuff I could find without results. I figured the more ghosts I exposed myself to the easier it would be for him to come through. Or maybe he was just having trouble finding me and these other ghosts having been in contact would tell him. I was sure they gossiped on the other side.

  Either way I knew his ghost would come through one day. He had to. Absolutely. I’d just bide by time and help these other grieving people while I waited.

  “They’re in the basement on the third self in a box labeled crystal balls.”

  “Ah!” She clapped her hands, jingling her myriad of bracelets. “See, my beautiful little Moon-gem, this is why I need you.” She tapped her head. “To fill in all the blank spots.”

  Yeah. She was floored when she found out my middle name was Moon-gem. She said it was destiny.

  “Oh.” She held a finger up in the air. “A blonde girl came in last night looking for you.”

  My brow arched questioningly. “Do you remember her name?”

  MJ bit her lip, her eyes going hazy for a moment. “Nooooo. She had blue eyes though and very sweet. She bought some candles and Celtic stones.”

  It must have been Emmaline Northwood. She was still in town working at Highland and she liked all things Wiccan.

  MJ shrugged and spun, twirling her layered skirt and disappeared around the corner. I sighed and grabbed my bag, storing it under the counter. The walls of the shop were a lilac with dark purple trim. Incense constantly burned, irritating my vampires sense of smell until I finally got used to it. Old chipped wooden shelves were filled with mystical books, tarot cards, crystals, candles, and other occult tools. Windows overlooked the street, several vampires and shifters strolling by to keep watch over me.

  I strolled toward the left of the shop, pulling back a thick velvet curtain to reveal a room in deep purple with dark wood floors and a crystal chandelier. Candles in colors of white, black, and lilac littered the room. A circle table sat in the center covered by a black cloth stitched with mystical designs in silver. A crystal ball, tarot cards, and an athame were placed on the table.

  If I had seen a room like this my first semester at Highland I probably would have peed my pants. Now it was comical.

  I trudged toward the back and pulled open a cabinet with tiny crystal ball as handles, revealing two shelves and a mirror fastened to the back of one door. I shed my purple Lone Star Burger Shack hoodie I won on my seventeenth birthday and donned a purple and silver silk robe jacket kind of thing. I grabbed a vibrant jewel toned silk scarf adorned with beads and silver trinkets at one end that jingled lyrically together, wrapping it around my head. My messy brown sometimes black hair tumbled passed my shoulders and half down my back

  I smudged some charcoal eyeliner around my big round honey colored eyed, making them pop dramatically. Tiny flecks of silver glinted within the gold only seen by my vampire sight. While they were pretty and lined with thick, inky lashes, my eyes lacked the brightness they used to. They dulled significantly the night Mac died.

  Next I smeared a deep scarlet color over my perpetually swollen lips. I smiled rigidly, checking to make sure nothing was smeared on my teeth. My lone dimple peeked out for a moment, spurring a deep throb within my heart. I used to hate my weird dimple. Then Mac loved it, kissing it all the time. Now I hated it again.

  My hand scooped up a mess of necklaces with various crystals dangling from the ends, sliding them over my head so they hung down my chest in different lengths. I slipped gaudy rings on my fingers as the final touch.

  I stood back and stared at my reflection, a snort slipping out my mouth. “Medium Moon-gem at your service.” I saluted myself.

  Of course I didn’t need any of this crap to talk to ghosts. Strangely enough the customers thought it more authentic if I looked like a weirdo extra from Harry Potter. The first few times I did this they had trouble believing I could communicate with the dead. Apparently my Chuck Taylors and oversized hoodie weren’t realistic enough. Go figure.

  I wondered how they’d feel
if they knew I was a vampire?

  I turned and started lighting candles around the room, preparing for my first appointment. A tiny seed of hope was planted deep in my heart, praying this was the day I’d see Mac’s ghost. If I could simply talk to him, see him, I wouldn’t feel so dull and dead inside. Maybe we could still be together. Why not? Stranger things have happened. I was a psychic vampire princess.

  Mac was strong. He could easily learn how to make himself corporeal. Other ghosts have touched me. Maybe that was what Mac was doing now, maybe that was why he hadn’t seen me yet. He want to not only see me but touch me.

  His death didn’t have be mean we couldn’t still be together. I’d be the Mayfair witch to his Lasher—without out the creepy he wants to be reborn Taltos stuff.

  The bell over the door jingled, signaling my first customer of the day. I turned down the chandelier, dimming the room before heading out to greet them.

  “Hello.” I flashed a gentle smile. “You must be Mrs. Hamilton.”

  A thin, middle aged woman with blonde hair brushing her shoulder, tiny gray strands flecking her temples—probably only something my vampire eyes could pick up—stood in front of the door, nervously wringing her hands. A young man in his early twenties sporting the same soft brown eyes as the women stood beside her, scowling as his gaze roamed the shop.

  “You can call my Victoria please.” She reached a trembling hand out to me.

  I gently took it in mine, feeling her small, fragile bones beneath her thin skin. Blue veins were extremely visible at her wrist. “Victoria.”

  “You’re the psychic?” Incredulity laced the guy’s deep voice as he looked me up and down. “Aren’t you a little young?”

  “Aren’t you a big douche?”

  I glanced toward the opening of the room to find the origin of the voice. A tall, lanky form with wavy brown hair swept away from a sharp angled face and hazel eyes currently shooting daggers at Mr. Scowls-a-lot. Hudson, the first vampire to fall victim to the hunters’ poison. was leaning against the doorjamb, radiating irritation. I pressed my lips together to staunch my smile without much success.

  “What?” the skeptic asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t mind my son.” She patted his shoulder with a warning look. “Michael’s a non-believer.”

  He scoffed, and tossed his dirty blonde locks out his face that would have been hot without that sourpuss expression. “I just don’t want some scam artist taking advantage of my mom while she’s vulnerable.”

  “Who you calling scam artist?” Hudson stepped away from the door, puffing up all cute like. “You’re talking to royalty.”

  It took quite a bit of effort to ignore his rants. “I understand. You’re more than welcomed to come along.” I motioned my hand for them to follow as I walked into the room, closing the curtain behind us.

  Hudson trailed us and joined another ghost about his age that was leaning against the far wall, smirking at my set up. His shaggy brown hair fell in his half-lidded eyes and his t-short sported a marijuana leaf. Total stoner. He wasn’t here for Victoria. She was here to speak with her late husband, Samuel Hamilton.

  I pulled up another chair next to Victoria for her son. As he sat I caught his scent of fresh soap and the steak omelet he had for breakfast. I shuffled away and slipped into the seat across from them, my eyes lingering on the vein at his neck and watching it throb temptingly.

  It would be so easy to compel him to stay after his mother’s appointment for a little session of our own. He wouldn’t be scowling then. Nope. I could easily sink my fangs into his neck, tearing open that pulsing vein and allowing his hot salty blood to trickle down my throat.

  My throat suddenly burned with thirst and my tongue flicked out, licking my lips. Michael’s brow arched, his scowl suddenly softening into a smile of intrigue.

  Oh damn. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to compel him.

  I looked away, shattering the tempestuous thoughts running through my head. I wouldn’t do any of those things. Mac was the only person I fed from and I intended to keep it that way. A figurative muzzle was locked on my fangs and I was strictly relegated to blood from a glass.

  My hands fumbled with the tarot cards, shuffling them before spreading them out. The few things Celestia taught me quickly evaporated from my mind like a steak in front of me. So I was winging it. “Pisces is in its phase and Jupiter is Ascending.” That was a weird movie.

  “What does that mean?” Victoria asked, entranced by my mystic-y voice.

  “It means the spirit world is very active right now. A good time for your husband to come through.”

  Her eyes widened while Michael scoffed.

  I ignored him and ran my hand over the tarot cards, wiggling my fingers before stopping in the center. I plucked a card out that had a sword and an upside down chalice. “Ah, I see.” I had no freaking clue what it meant. “You’re having a difficult time. You feel like you’re drowning in pain.” I pulled another card, showing a skeleton with a pitch fork. Eek. That was creepy. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “But if you do some cleaning around the house, organizing and changing the flow your spirit energy will be able to breathe much easier.”

  Victoria gasped and leaned forward, getting a better look at her cards. “That’s what it means?”

  I nodded.

  “Is this chick for real?” Stoner guy asked. “They can’t believe she’s a medium.”

  Hudson jabbed him in the elbow. “Shut up. She is.”

  My gaze flickered toward stoner dude, my brow lifting in challenge.

  He stiffened. “Whoa, can she see us?”

  “And hear,” I mumbled, while searching for another card.

  Hudson snickered before disappearing through the wall to the street.

  “I don’t see what this has to do with communicating with my dad,” Michael said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms against his chest.

  “Michael,” Victoria hissed. “Let Moon-gem work.”

  “Oh shit,” Stoner said. “That can’t be her name.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “That wasn’t very nice of you.” A cocky smirk formed over Michael’s face while he began tapping his foot obnoxiously.

  “It wasn’t meant for you.” All of this was for show to stall for Samuel’s arrival. I already contacted him and told him to be here at 11am, but ghosts were never punctual. “Victoria, do you have an object of your husbands?”

  She nodded and hurriedly drew an embroidered handkerchief out her purse, handing it to me.

  Hudson suddenly popped back in with a grin from ear to hear. “Douche canoe’s car is about to get towed. He’s parked in a no parking zone.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Served him right. I cleared my throat and met Michael’s brown eyes from across the table, mine probably glinting with glee. “Your car is getting towed.”

  His blonde brow arched. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I tapped my head. “Psychic, remember?”

  He stared at me for a few moments, debating on whether or not I was screwing with him. Finally he decided he to go check and bolted out the door.

  Victoria’s brows met. “Is it really getting towed?”

  I nodded.

  I took a deep breath and began rubbing the handkerchief between my fingers. Come on dude, where the hell are you? “Oh spirits,” I called loudly. “I’m here to communicate with Samuel Hamilton.” I tilted my head back then side to side then back again. “Spirit world come forth and deliver me Samuel. His wife wishes to speak with him.”

  “I could watch this chick all day,” Stoner said.

  Hudson nodded in agreement.

  “Samuel Hamilton,” I called. “Are you there? Come forth and speak. Make yourself known.”

  Ugh come on man.

  Seeing me struggle, Hudson blew out a few candles in the room, causing Victoria to gasp and grab her pearl necklace.

  “Is he h
ere?” she whispered.

  I closed my eyes. “He’s close,” I lied. Damn it Sam. Get your ass here!

  A cool breeze suddenly tickled my neck, stirring the hair around my shoulder. Another ghost had definitely joined the party. I peeked out of one eye to see a tall, brooding man dressed in a gray business suit. Tufts of graying blonde hair surrounded a square face and round light blue eyes.

  Finally.

  I pierced Victoria with my gaze. “Samuel is here.” Her hand trembled as I returned the handkerchief.

  “H-How is he?” she asked, her eyes searching the room, skipping over his spectral form leaning to a shelf.

  He crossed his arms against his chest. “I’m dead. How do you think I am?”

  I smiled gently. “He’s copping well with his new state of being.”

  “Does he have any messages for me?” She blinked hopefully, staring at the vacant wall to the left of Samuel.

  “Yeah, I do. I hope you’re enjoying the house I paid for and I hope you’re enjoying that new Mercedes my life insurance policy paid for.” He motioned toward his chest. “That was the car I wanted, but oh no. It was too flashy for you.” His voice went high-pitched and nasally as he mocked his wife.

  “He says he’s glad you bought the car.” This wouldn’t be the first time I lied my ass off to a customer.

  Her hand went to her mouth, muffling a little cry. “He did?”

  I nodded the same time Samuel scoffed.

  “Oh I miss him so much.” Her brown eyes watered while her lips trembled and fingers absentmindedly played with her pearl necklace.

  “Yeah, I bet she does miss me—while she’s screwing my brother!” The candles flickered at his outburst. “I’m barely even cold in the grave and she’s doing the horizontal tango with my twin.”

  Hudson and Stoner grimaced while I forced a tight smile. “He says he misses you very much and that you are a very… loving woman. Very family oriented.”