Charmed Spirits (9 page)

“Get
your mind out of your own fucking pity party. I’m so tired of this, Jordan.”
Tyler strode to the sink in the back and ripped open the cabinet. He got out some
rags and a bucket then filled it with hot water and soap. He stormed back, the
water sloshing over the sides.

“Help
me clean up this fucking mark since you caused it. I don’t want Abigail to have
to look at it when she comes back.” He started scrubbing the wall with a force
that scared Jordan.

Who
was this man? Not the laid-back guy who’d always had a smile for her.

“I’m
so sorry, Tyler.”

He
shook his head. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. I can’t believe
you said that to her. She’d been nothing but kind to you. So what if she
doesn’t date? It’s not your place to judge. I thought your place was to stand
by her against the people who use tactics like the ones you just used, but apparently,
I was wrong.”

“I
don’t know why I did it.”

“Shut
up. You do know why.” He scrubbed harder, and she joined him, her tears falling
as she cleaned up the soot from her magic.

She’d
never lost control like that before, and it scared her more than she’d like to
admit.

“You
need to get your head on straight, Jor. You walk around like you don’t care
about what people say about you. But you do. If you didn’t, this wouldn’t have
happened. You’re wound so tight your magic can’t come out and breathe. You
don’t know how to control it because you don’t practice.”

She
gulped, shame washing over her. “How would you know? How do you know so much
about this?” Tyler wasn’t a witch, of that much she was certain.

“I
don’t know about being a witch, but I do know about being responsible, and
you’re not owning up to it. I know you don’t plan on staying here, and as much
as that will kill Matt, I don’t want you here if you’re going to be a danger to
my people.”

Jordan
staggered back, hurt sliding through her. “What?”

“You
heard me. Get your act together, Jor. One day you’ll have even less control
than you had today and you’ll hurt someone, maybe even kill them. I don’t want it
to be Matt or someone else I care about it. I love you like a sister, Jor, and
I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Jordan
ran her hand through her hair, her body tired from exertion and her emotions.
“I don’t know why I reacted like that,” she whispered.

“You
do know. You just need to figure out what you’re going to do about it.”

They
cleaned the last of the soot off in silence, guilt over her actions eating at
her.

“What
am I going to tell her, Ty?”

He
shook his head, his jaw set. “I don’t know, but you better make it good. She
deserves more than what she’s getting from this town.”

Jordan
nodded, her teeth biting into her lip.

“You
do too, Jor. But right now? You’re not going to get it. Own up to yourself and
maybe others will see what Matt does.”

He
left without another word, and Jordan sank down into one of the little chairs.
She’d almost killed someone she cared about because she couldn’t control her
magic. She’d been afraid, afraid that she’d be asked to do something she didn’t
want to do with a power she didn’t understand. The only people who’d never
asked anything of her had been the Coopers…and Abby. Yet she’d over-reacted
because she was a screw-up.

She
closed her eyes, her body too tired to think. She needed to fix this with Abby.
Then maybe fix herself, because when she moved away, she didn’t want to kill a
stranger. And if by some stroke of luck she stayed, she didn’t want to kill
someone she loved.

Chapter 7

“Damn
it. Why isn’t there a book called
What to Do if You’re Turned into a Ghost
?”
Matt slammed the thick volume shut as dust rose up from the old book. He rubbed
his eyes with the heels of his hands and cursed again.

Reading
old texts he’d borrowed from the library wasn’t getting him anywhere. For the
past eleven years, he’d been researching what he could do to fix his problem.
He snorted. Yeah, problem. What a small word to explain he was a freaking ghost
five days a month. No matter what he read, though, nothing seemed to be close
to what he dealt with.

There
were legit texts that said the souls of the deceased had unfinished business
left on this plane and therefore couldn’t move on. That sounded a bit like
every movie he’d ever seen…but it had been worth a try so he’d tried to finish
every unfinished piece of business he might have. Even though he wouldn’t have
been quite ready to move on at his age regardless, he’d still finished his
degree, bought his business, and tried his best to accomplish most of his
goals. He’d even made sure he kept on his brothers’ good sides.

The
fact that he hadn’t married, had kids, or resolved things with Jordan seemed to
be the only major goals left untouched. But even then… would he move on? He
wasn’t even sure he could have kids, and he wasn’t sure he should bring some
poor, unsuspecting woman into his nightmare. So, he was pretty sure that, even
though the texts had offered him a possible solution, it wasn’t the right path
for him.

Other
books said that he’d chosen this. He snorted. Right, like he’d have chosen to
be connected to a building that no one wanted and which the entire town desired
to tear down. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen to go through agonizing pain
every month when he shifted or faded or whatever the hell he wanted to call it.
No, he hadn’t chosen this. The texts that said he’d chosen this so he could
watch over this plane or because he was too scared to move on weren’t right
about his case.

He
wouldn’t have chosen this for anything.

As
he flipped through the pages, he started to doubt his sanity. Were there others
in the world that he hadn’t known about? Other ghosts? What about other…things?
He’d always known Jordan was a witch and had never questioned it. It was a part
of her, and therefore, something he’d understood at the time, but he’d never
really thought past that. Stupid really. In retrospect, he should have thought about
past magic and what else went bump in the night.

But,
nightmares weren’t real. At least that was what he’d always thought. Now that
he was a ghost though…what if he’d been wrong? What else might be out there?

Everything
he’d read pointed to their existence. But what did a ghost like him do?

No
matter what he read, these books wanted him to move on. To realize he wasn’t
alive anymore. That he was dead.

Funny,
he didn’t actually
remember
dying.

But
was he dead? He was alive for twenty-five days out of the month, so he couldn’t
actually be dead. When he was in the real world, he felt just as alive as he
had before the incident. He could touch; people could touch him. He had
feelings, so his body worked. What could cause him to be part alive and part
dead? Why was he able to live in the real world most of the time, but was
forced to live in the ghost world part of the time?

He
clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to convince himself he was
truly alive. He could breathe. His lungs burned, and he fought off the wave of
nausea that always came whenever he thought about the fact that he was probably
dead.

He
didn’t want to be dead. He’d barely had a chance to live. He’d been dealing
with this crap since he was eighteen and just now had the desire to actually
make it past
living
from day-to-day. He wanted Jordan.

For
now. Forever.

Or
at least, he
wanted
to want Jordan. He couldn’t get past the betrayal of
her leaving and her part in his predicament because, for all his research, he
still had a pretty good idea that only magic could have done this to him.

And
he only knew one witch that could have done it.

Jordan.

Was
it mere coincidence that he’d turned into a ghost for the first time on the
night she’d left town—and him?

He
closed his eyes and tried not to think about that first night. He hadn’t even
known she had left until the next morning. No, that night he’d been at the
Marlow place, waiting for her. When he’d found out she’d left, he’d felt as if
someone had punched him in the stomach then thrown him against the wall. He’d
broken out in a sweat, his vision going hazy. Then he’d looked down at his
hands…

He
swallowed the bile in his throat then took a deep breath. After some time had
passed, he’d finally been able to deal with the sensation and the pain of his
body fading into nothingness, but the idea still scared the shit out of him.

What
if one day he didn’t come back?

What
if he faded to his ghost form and just…stayed there?

Okay,
he needed to stop thinking about crap like that. It wasn’t getting him
anywhere. He opened another book, rubbed his eyes, and re-read another chapter.
It had occurred to him in the past that, if he’d just asked for help, he
wouldn’t feel as lost as he did.

But whom
could he ask?

As
much as he loved Holiday, he didn’t trust the town with this secret. He’d seen
the way they’d treated Jordan when she’d been outed as a witch. Though he’d
done all he could to protect her, it hadn’t been enough. After all, she’d left.

He
could have told his brothers countless times. In fact, he almost had every time
the moon started to grow and he knew his days as a solid were numbered. But he
could never gain the courage to come out say and he was a ghost.

They’d
already lost so much with their parents’ deaths and having to grow up too fast.
He hadn’t been able to put anything else on their shoulders.

God,
he felt like a coward. He leafed through another text, his gaze straying to
articles about séances, spells, and resurrection. He looked at the clock and grimaced.
Only a couple more hours before he faded again. It was two days before
Halloween and the full moon, so tonight was the first night of his curse. He
turned another page, willing it to have the answers.

No
such luck.

He’d
find something. He had to because, if he didn’t, he didn’t know how much longer
he could live not being alive.

****

Jordan
stood on Abby’s front porch, a box of homemade sugar cookies in one hand, still
warm from the oven, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. She looked like she
was picking up her date for a Valentine’s Day dance, not like a woman ready to
grovel to the only woman in the world who cared about her.

She
held the flowers a bit tighter and bit her lip. God, she couldn’t believe she’d
reacted like that to Abby’s innocent question. She’d almost killed her friend,
and all because she’d been too insecure to talk it out without being a bitch.

The
look on Tyler’s face…

God.
She’d most likely lost Tyler and Abby for good. Frankly, if the two of them
gave up on her, she deserved it. She rocked from foot to foot, unease creeping
through her.

Why
was she here? This wasn’t going to work. She closed her eyes, her magic pulsating
through her. That was the
one
thing she couldn’t let happen. She
couldn’t let her magic run away with her again. She had to learn to tame it.
Control it. Own it.

Tyler
was right.

She
was scared.

She’d
have to learn to control her magic and be okay with it. If she didn’t, she
might hurt someone she cared about…or kill them.

Right
now, she had to do something even more important. Apologize. She didn’t deserve
forgiveness, and Abby could very well slam the door in her face, but she needed
to say she was sorry.

God,
sorry was such a small word, often meaningless in most situations, but she
still needed to say it. Abby deserved at least that.

The
door opened and Abby looked at her with a frown on her face. “Are you going to
stand out here in the wind for thirty more minutes before you actually ring the
bell? Or do you just like to adorn front porches in your downtime?” Abby asked,
her hair in a cute ponytail on the top of her head. She wore tight yoga pants
and a tank top and looked like she had just been working out.

“Hi,
Abby.” And now she needed to say something. Anything. And….nothing.

“Oh
God, you brought cookies?”

Jordan
nodded, nervous. She held out the box and flowers, her head down. She really
sucked at this.

“You
might as well get out of the cold and come in.”

Jordan
looked up, and Abby walked in, leaving her alone on the porch. She looked
around and shrugged. Maybe Abby wanted to kill her in private. She walked in,
closed the door behind her, and took off her coat.

Abby
lived in a small, one-bedroom house that sat on a large amount of acreage so
she could add on if she ever wanted to. Inside, the house personified home and
warmth, filled with comfy couches and chairs—the kind you wanted to sink into
and take a nap. Knick-knacks seemed to be everywhere, but the house wasn’t
cluttered.