Shades of the Wolf

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1 (#ucad3045d-72ed-5ebd-8644-0e8e3c406a33)

The man appeared in her peripheral vision, just like all the others who had come before. A hazy shape, flickering into mist before solidifying somewhat. Her black cat, Leroy, hissed his usual back-arched warning. Anabel Lee clenched her teeth and ignored the apparition, willing the ghost’s ethereal form to dissipate so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

Or worse, hear him try to speak to her. Mentally, she cringed. The voices were what bothered her the most. Whispers and muffled laughter. Wisps of conversation drifting on the breeze.

And pleas for help. Almost always cries for help. She had come to realize ghosts never appeared unless they wanted something. For whatever reason, they all seemed to think she could give it to them. Instead she steeled herself and sent them away.

This wasn’t the first time one had appeared inside her home either. They were prone to popping up in all kinds of places, everywhere. Some wailed; some screamed. Others simply glared at her with burning eyes, as if she could read whatever was left of their mind. And most asked—begged, actually. Until she ordered them gone. Doing so cut off the voices.

Since there seemed to be a method to her madness, she simply closed her eyes. “Go away,” she ordered, speaking slowly and loud. “I don’t want you here.”

Having spoken, she counted silently to ten, quite confident that when she opened her eyes again the apparition would be gone. They always went, once she ordered them gone.

Only he wasn’t. Instead it seemed he’d moved closer. Her eyes widened. Dimly, she registered he was—or had been—a beautiful man. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist and capable, long-fingered hands. He wore his dark hair unfashionably long, which she also appreciated, since she too made a practice of skirting the edge of current style. This hair did not go with his camouflaged military fatigues and combat boots.

Leroy hissed again, then gave an indignant yowl and stalked away, his yellow cat’s eyes flashing.

“What do you want?” she asked rudely, pretty sure she already knew the answer. And she got ready to strain to hear the whisper or brace herself for the shriek, since ghosts apparently couldn’t speak in a normal tone.

“I need your help,” he said, his deep voice strong and edged with velvet. Such a sexy voice, she felt the impact all the way to her toes.

Stunned, she stared at him. “I didn’t expect that.”

One corner of his well-shaped mouth quirked. Damned if she didn’t feel a little electric tingle deep inside.

“What, that I’d need your assistance?”

“No, not that.” She waved him away. “All the ghosts want some kind of help. But you’re different. You can talk. Not whisper, but speak. That’s unusual.”

“Is it?” Appearing unconcerned, he shrugged. To her consternation, he appeared to be solidifying the longer she looked at him. Handsome, sexy and getting more real by the second. Maybe she finally had lost her mind.

“I’ve been sent back here for a reason,” he continued. “And your energy is strong. It directed me to you.”

This was new. Of course, she’d never gotten this far with a specter before. This ghost was different. For one thing, he was massive. And ruggedly handsome. His self-confidence was even sexy, making her feel something she hadn’t since David’s death. Things she definitely shouldn’t be feeling.

Resolutely, Anabel ignored him. Eventually, he’d disappear. He had to. He had no reason to hang around haunting her. She’d brought her vegetables in from her garden for dinner. She planned to roast summer squash, zucchini, tomatoes and onions. Not only did she love the fresh taste, but the bright colors made eating feel like artwork. This, along with some quinoa, had become one of her favorite meals ever since she’d decided to give vegetarianism a try.

Which had given the townspeople of Leaning Tree even more to talk about. After all, who’d ever heard of a shape-shifter who didn’t eat meat?

Anabel didn’t care. At least that was what she told herself—ever since David had been killed and she’d lost her mind, she’d long ago stopped caring about what other people thought of her.

“Earth to Anabel.” The ghost snapped his fingers. At her. And she could actually hear them. “Shutting me out won’t make me go away.”

Ignoring him should have worked. Sometimes she’d found she could actually will them away, as if she had magical power over ghosts or something. Closing her eyes, she wished him gone.

“Hello? I know you can hear me. This is really important. Otherwise I wouldn’t have come.”

Him again. Still here. Worse, he actually knew her name. None of the other ghosts had called her anything but lady, or ma’am, or even Ms.

“Fine.” Sighing, she crossed her arms and faced him. “I’m listening. Go ahead and tell me what you want.”

She expected him to immediately start listing his demands. If they followed along with the other spirits who’d visited her, they’d be along the lines of find so-and-so, my wife, my mother, my father, and tell them I love them and that I’m at peace. Which she absolutely refused to do. Mostly since she knew no one would believe her. She already had a reputation as a nut job anyway.

So she waited for him to begin his laundry list of demands before she could shoot him down.

Instead he cocked his head and studied her. Anabel realized she’d never seen eyes that hazel, in either a live man or a ghost. Especially a ghost.

“You miss him, don’t you?” he asked, his deep voice kind. “Your husband, that is.”

She started, only the slightest twitch, but she thought he noticed it anyway. “If you’re here to tell me he’s all right, that he’s not in pain and that he’s happy, don’t.”

Even though she tried to keep the misery out of her tone, she knew she’d failed. “After all,” she continued, “if he really wanted me to know, he’d have told me himself.”

“I’m sure he couldn’t.” Again the flash of a smile, far too radiant for an apparition. “It seems to be some kind of rule or something, prohibiting us from appearing to those who loved us the most.”

Which made sense. Though it didn’t lessen the hurt. “I see ghosts. Not everyone can do that. I would appreciate just a short visit, or even a message...” She broke off, squinting at him and not bothering to hide her suspicion. “And don’t take that as a good excuse to hand me some syrupy fake message. I’ll see right through you. David and I had our own form of code. He’d definitely use it to prove to me that any communication actually was from him.”

As she wound down, she noticed how his mouth quirked upward in amusement. He had a ruggedness and vital power she found very attractive. Which felt not only weird—he was a ghost, after all—but entirely unwelcome.

“I don’t have a message from anyone,” he said, not sounding the slightest bit regretful. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Irritated, embarrassed and more than a little bit flustered, she waved his words away. “Just tell me what you want so I can get on with the rest of my day.”

“What I want...” His expression stilled and grew serious. “I need you to help find my sister. Somehow she managed to reach out to me. She’s in danger.”

This was a new one. “But you’re a...ghost. You should be able to find her yourself.”

“I have tried.” He sounded frustrated. “And all I can tell is she’s in some dark, windowless place. Underground, maybe. No matter how long I search, her exact location is blocked. She’s still alive, though her light is beginning to fade. She is running out of time. The man who has her will kill her soon.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “The man who has her? Are you talking about a serial killer? Or just some sort of psycho?”

“I don’t know.” His lips thinned as his expression turned inward. “He’s probably killed more than once, because when I’m around my sister, I can also feel the whispers of other lost souls.”

A shiver snaked up her spine. This just kept getting stranger. Not only did a ghost too good-looking to be real show up, but now he was spouting stuff about serial killers? She really, really needed him to go away.

Crossing her arms, she studied him. His massive shoulders filled out army camouflage. Her stomach swooped. The combat uniform had been exactly what David was wearing when he was killed. Coincidence? She thought not.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath. “I have to ask. Why me? I don’t even know you. Did someone else, some other ghost, send you to me?”

“No.” His quick answer crushed all her hopes. “Your energy drew me to you. I need someone with your power. Not only that, but you live in the same town as I used to. My sister still lives here.” He frowned. “Don’t you ever wonder why you can hear the voices of the dead?”