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Authors: Linda Winstead Jones
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felt a little sorry for him. Thirty years of self-reproach was a heavy burden.
"I only begin to feel guilty when someone comes around asking pesky questions about things that should have been buried years ago." Hunt's face flushed red, his lips thinned. "I want you out, Miss Abernathy. Out of this house, out of Plummerville. I'll give you a tidy sum over and beyond what you paid for the house. Just... leave."
"No," Eve said calmly. "I've made this house my home and I won't be run off. Not by ghosts, and not by you." She cocked her head and studied Hunt's hard face, his tortured eyes. "Did you care for Viola very much? Is that why you suffer so?"
Hunt reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip too tight. He didn't answer her question, which was answer enough for Eve. "You think a couple of ghosts are a problem? Tangle with me and you'll regret it. Sell me the house, make a tidy profit, and leave this town and this sordid story alone."
"And what will you do if I accept your offer?" Eve asked. "Sell the house to someone else? Let it stand here and rot?"
"I'll burn it to the ground, which is what I should have done thirty years ago." With that, he gave Eve a little shake.
Lucien came up behind Hunt and forcibly pulled the man away. Eve held her breath as a furious Lucien slammed Hunt into the wall and leaned in close, bending down to place his face close to the shorter man's. "Lay your hands on the lady again, and you'll regret it," Lucien said darkly. His neck corded with tension, his jaw tensed. His fists flexed threateningly.
Hunt, rightfully intimidated by the sight of an enraged Lucien, took a shuffling step to the side. "You must be the fortune-teller."
Lucien closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Eve suppressed a smile. She knew he hated the label fortune-teller much more than medium or even exorcist. Hunt was in serious trouble.
"I'm not much of a fortune-teller, " Lucien said as he opened his eyes and laid them on Hunt, "but I do see that if you don't apologize to Miss Abernathy and get out of her home, you're going to be in serious pain within a matter of minutes."
Oh, she hadn't known Lucien could get so angry about a situation that involved living, breathing humans. Normally he saved his passions for the dead. He was intriguingly handsome and appealing when he defended her this way, though she would never tell him so. It was painful enough to admit such a thing to herself. Still, she couldn't help but smile as Hunt backed toward the door, mumbling an insincere apology and keeping his eyes on Lucien the entire time.
When the door closed on Douglas Hunt, Lucien ran his fingers through his mussed dark hair. Eve fought the urge to help him.
"How dare he shake you and talk to you that way?" Lucien asked. "And who the hell is he?"
"Alistair's business partner," she said. "He's not particularly happy about me asking questions, and he's definitely upset about the news that the ghosts are in residence." She replayed the short visit in her mind. "I believe he was in love with Viola. Do you think he might have been the man she was seeing? Her husband's business partner? That would have been messy. Quite a scandal."
Lucien looked her in the eye, deep and questioning. The anger faded from his face, and was replaced by something akin to wonder. "Evie," he said softly, and she didn't even think about correcting him, "what if Alistair didn't kill Viola? What if they were both murdered?"
* * *
Intrigued by the new idea, Lucien took the stairs two at a time. He'd met Viola in the bedchamber she and her husband had shared. That was probably the best place to find Alistair.
"No!" Eve called as she followed him, her footsteps light and quick on the stairway. "It's too dangerous. Everyone says Alistair killed Viola. Even Viola! Why else would she ask why?"
"Because she thinks he murdered her, but in reality it was someone else." Lucien threw open the bedroom door. He saw nothing, but he sensed them here.
"I only begin to feel guilty when someone comes around asking pesky questions about things that should have been buried years ago." Hunt's face flushed red, his lips thinned. "I want you out, Miss Abernathy. Out of this house, out of Plummerville. I'll give you a tidy sum over and beyond what you paid for the house. Just... leave."
"No," Eve said calmly. "I've made this house my home and I won't be run off. Not by ghosts, and not by you." She cocked her head and studied Hunt's hard face, his tortured eyes. "Did you care for Viola very much? Is that why you suffer so?"
Hunt reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip too tight. He didn't answer her question, which was answer enough for Eve. "You think a couple of ghosts are a problem? Tangle with me and you'll regret it. Sell me the house, make a tidy profit, and leave this town and this sordid story alone."
"And what will you do if I accept your offer?" Eve asked. "Sell the house to someone else? Let it stand here and rot?"
"I'll burn it to the ground, which is what I should have done thirty years ago." With that, he gave Eve a little shake.
Lucien came up behind Hunt and forcibly pulled the man away. Eve held her breath as a furious Lucien slammed Hunt into the wall and leaned in close, bending down to place his face close to the shorter man's. "Lay your hands on the lady again, and you'll regret it," Lucien said darkly. His neck corded with tension, his jaw tensed. His fists flexed threateningly.
Hunt, rightfully intimidated by the sight of an enraged Lucien, took a shuffling step to the side. "You must be the fortune-teller."
Lucien closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and Eve suppressed a smile. She knew he hated the label fortune-teller much more than medium or even exorcist. Hunt was in serious trouble.
"I'm not much of a fortune-teller, " Lucien said as he opened his eyes and laid them on Hunt, "but I do see that if you don't apologize to Miss Abernathy and get out of her home, you're going to be in serious pain within a matter of minutes."
Oh, she hadn't known Lucien could get so angry about a situation that involved living, breathing humans. Normally he saved his passions for the dead. He was intriguingly handsome and appealing when he defended her this way, though she would never tell him so. It was painful enough to admit such a thing to herself. Still, she couldn't help but smile as Hunt backed toward the door, mumbling an insincere apology and keeping his eyes on Lucien the entire time.
When the door closed on Douglas Hunt, Lucien ran his fingers through his mussed dark hair. Eve fought the urge to help him.
"How dare he shake you and talk to you that way?" Lucien asked. "And who the hell is he?"
"Alistair's business partner," she said. "He's not particularly happy about me asking questions, and he's definitely upset about the news that the ghosts are in residence." She replayed the short visit in her mind. "I believe he was in love with Viola. Do you think he might have been the man she was seeing? Her husband's business partner? That would have been messy. Quite a scandal."
Lucien looked her in the eye, deep and questioning. The anger faded from his face, and was replaced by something akin to wonder. "Evie," he said softly, and she didn't even think about correcting him, "what if Alistair didn't kill Viola? What if they were both murdered?"
* * *
Intrigued by the new idea, Lucien took the stairs two at a time. He'd met Viola in the bedchamber she and her husband had shared. That was probably the best place to find Alistair.
"No!" Eve called as she followed him, her footsteps light and quick on the stairway. "It's too dangerous. Everyone says Alistair killed Viola. Even Viola! Why else would she ask why?"
"Because she thinks he murdered her, but in reality it was someone else." Lucien threw open the bedroom door. He saw nothing, but he sensed them here.
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