Ill conjure for you, p.6
I'll Conjure for You, page 6
Together, they backed out of the room, Everett grabbing the doorknob as he went. Once in the foyer, he shut the door and let out a shaky breath. “Oh, Jesus….”
A heavy thump came from upstairs, as if mocking his feeble prayer. Everett’s gaze shot up the stairs but saw nothing. That was enough. He’d had quite enough. Lola had tangled herself in his legs to scamper to the front door, and Everett decided she had the right idea. They were getting the fuck out of this house and back to town.
And on the way, he’d have to call Helen Beck.
Chapter 7
“Everett, slow down,” Helen urged. “Say that again?”
She quickly blew out a candle at her altar and fanned the smoke as she tucked her cellphone between her shoulder and neck. Henry was getting too close to her crystals and talismans, so she scooped him up and carried him to the porch where the reception was better. Everett had called while she was in the middle of a home protection spell, and he sounded like a mess.
“She was under the bed, just staring at me, laughing. I don’t know why she’s there. I had to get out. Should I call the sheriff? Should I have just left?” His voice was frantic, his breathing out of control. “I can’t let Nana come back home. I just can’t. Something is in there, Helen. Do you hear me? Something. Is. In. There.”
She hitched Henry’s squirmy body up her shoulder and walked out the front door. “Everett. Breathe,” she said in a firm tone. “Stop talking and take a deep breath. In and out. In and out.”
He stopped speaking long enough for her to hear his labored breath. It shook with every exhale, but he followed her advice. In and out. In and out. While he was quiet, Helen listened to his truck’s engine and the dog panting beside him.
“If you’re driving, just concentrate on the road ahead of you,” she said in a soothing voice. “Where are you driving, Everett?”
He let out a shuddered breath. “I’m going to Main Street. Back to the store.”
“Good. Now where is Milly?”
“She’s on her way to Connecticut. To see her cousin. She’s gone for the week,” he groaned. “She can’t come back to that house, Helen.”
“One thing at a time,” she said, sitting on her porch swing. While she talked him down, she needed her own friend, Henry, to comfort her. As she stroked the bunny’s furry back, her mind rapidly ran through a million possibilities, thinking of the next helpful suggestion. In her gut, she knew Milly Myer had a spirit in her home. Apparently, it didn’t mean her well, but Helen needed to appear as reasonable as possible to her grandson. “Please just make it safely to your store.”
He paused on the line before sighing. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to call you like this.” His voice was tinged with so much regret, it made her heart squeezed with pity.
“You’re fine,” Helen assured with a chuckle. “Who else were you gonna call?”
“I should have called the sheriff.”
Helen stared at the Bordeaux B&B’s circular driveway and shook her head. “And do you think Sheriff Bradley could have helped?”
Another pause. “No,” he said in a flat voice.
“Why?”
“Because there’s no one in that house… no one who he’d actually see,” he sighed again, “This is the kind of shit I’ve seen in horror movies. Hysterical housewives experiencing—God knows what—and no one believes them. I don’t want to be that person.”
Helen understood exactly what he meant. She and Whitney had been those women not too long ago. They’d called law enforcement to the B&B on a shadow man. The police report had only reinforced that a couple of nervous Nellies had taken on a mansion that was too much for them. Indeed, what man would want to fall into the trap of paranormal misogyny?
“That’s why you called me,” she said in a soft voice.
“Yes,” he breathed. “I need you.”
His words made her clench in ways she hadn’t expected. When had a person told her that they needed her with such desperation? Helen forced herself not to read anything sexual into the strained plea. He needed her help. That’s all.
Henry reached his tiny face upward and roughly nudged his nose against her cheek. She looked down at the rabbit’s dark eyes and frowned. If she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that her familiar was trying to keep her on track.
“Would you like me to meet you at your store?” she asked.
“Please,” he said. His voice was low and conspiratorial.
And that was more than enough to tug on her heart strings. This pull wasn’t unusual for Helen as she’d felt like a safe haven for many souls throughout her life. People came to her seeking help, and she usually sprang into action to give it. In that way, she was glad to be like her grandmother, who had the reputation of helping all kinds of people when she was alive. Their mother, Colette, ruefully recalled how Ernestine not only opened their New York City home to ghosts, but to several starving artists hoping to make it in the big city. Helen liked feeding people, nurturing their stomachs, and souls if she could.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said, standing from the porch swing and returning to her altar. She grabbed her grandmother’s grimoire and her own, just in case. “We’ll talk about everything when you’re in a safer location.”
Everett let out a steady sigh. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Helen had already prepped Henry’s basket, giving him a hardened hay block to satiate his chewing urges, before slipping on her shoes. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I hope you can trust me to help. I might be your best bet in Pardon.”
He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, his voice sounded resolute. “I do trust you. I’m afraid… but I want your help.”
His certainty made her pause while locking up. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know what happened in the woods the other night, but when I saw you… you were in the air, and glowing colors,” he cleared his throat. “I—uh—I was scared, but I knew you weren’t going to hurt me. Something about those colors made me feel at peace.”
Helen’s voice caught in her throat as she listened to his words. “Oh, good… I’m glad to hear that. Maybe we can talk about that when I get there.”
“Okay. I’ll see you.”
“Bye.”
When she hung up, her heart raced. She didn’t have to ask what colors he spoke of. He had to have been referring to her aura.
When she and her sister banished the ghost from their property, Whitney claimed she saw Helen’s yellow and green aura lighting up in the attic. Of course, she had to ask Vernelle what that meant. Yellow meant excitement and hope for now. Her confidence in the present often made her feel like she could do anything in the spur of the moment, but the green kept her grounded in the natural world. It balanced out the frenetic yellow energy that kept her boundless.
Helen could already tell that the green part of her personality craved growth and an earthiness that she hadn’t paid enough attention to in the past. She’d add that to the list of things to work on. For now, she’d see about Everett Myer and his ghost.
When Helen hurried inside Myer Hardware, she was disappointed to find that they wouldn’t be alone. Everett’s co-worker, Jeremy, was stocking merchandise near the front window. At the counter, Mr. Stan Franklin, a retiree who frequently puttered around the downtown area to spread local gossip, was talking Everett’s ear off. She could tell he’d come from Black Bear Brews as he leaned against Everett’s counter, sipping from a to-go cup.
“And I’ll tell you another thing, The Bills had better toughen up their defense. They gotta put that kid, oh what’s his name, he’s a defensive tackle. Perry? Well, they need to put him in the game. The kid’s got some legs on him.”
Everett was behind the counter, half-listening, and fully-staring at her as she entered his store. His face didn’t exactly light up upon seeing her, rather his cheeks flushed and his eyes darkened. “Helen,” he said, running his fingers through his short brown hair.
She hitched Henry’s basket in the crook of her elbow and smiled brightly to Everett and Mr. Franklin. “Hello,” she said, sitting her rabbit on the counter.
“Well, who have you got there?” Mr. Franklin asked, raising a bushy white brow as he peered into Henry’s basket. He sat his coffee beside Everett’s register and immediately stroked the rabbit’s fur. “Now isn’t he the cutest thing on four legs?” he murmured.
“His name is Henry,” Helen volunteered, watching Everett. He stood stock-still with his hands planted on the counter. The muscles in his large arms clenched every time he gripped the edge. He wore another band shirt, this one was Pearl Jam, and it was as ill-fitting as his others. No, maybe not ill-fitting, just noticeably stretched around his powerful body. Everett’s nostrils flared as he stared back, his eyes flitting to her chest, before meeting her eyes again. His blush deepened.
“I haven’t seen a Dutch since I raised them as a kid,” Mr. Franklin said with a youthful laugh. “Hell, I used to show them at the ARBA conventions down in Cortland. May I?”
Helen tore her gaze away from Everett long enough to smile at the elderly man, whose eyes seemed to shine when he watched Henry. “Of course,” she said, carefully handing the bunny off. “I’m sure you know what to do.”
“I certainly do,” he whispered reverently. “I’m surprised old Lola hasn’t barked up a storm since you stepped in here.”
Lola was, in fact, lying beside the counter. Like the other night, she was not bothered by a prey animal’s presence, and continued minding her business. “Lola knows how to mind her manners,” Everett said with a half-smile. Helen couldn’t help but smile back. “Did you want to check on your lumber order before I send it?” he asked, cutting his eyes to the back of the store.
She quickly nodded. They’d need a bit of privacy before they could talk about what Everett saw. “Are you going to be here for a little while, Mr. Franklin?” she asked.
“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he said, bouncing Henry like an infant. “He’s just darling isn’t he, Everett? I haven’t seen a finer looking Black and White Dutch in a long time, perfect lines on him.”
Everett’s stiff expression softened long enough to regard the rabbit and give him a scratch behind the ears. “He’s a good-looking guy.”
“You wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on the critters while Everett and I talk?” Helen asked.
“Oh no,” the old man murmured as he parked himself into a nearby wooden rocker. “I’ll be just fine right here.”
“Jeremy, I’ll be in the back with Helen. You mind?”
The young blond man squatted to the floor to stock boxes of nails. “I’m good, boss.”
Helen noticed the wry exchange between the two men but tucked it away for later. Everett led her to the back of the store, into an office with a desk and some filing cabinets. He offered her the only seat, behind the desk, and perched himself on the edge beside her.
“How are you holding up?” she asked carefully.
He shook his head. “I didn’t tell Jeremy what was going on. Luckily, my dad is at home today. I know I can’t say anything to him, but I also can’t get those images out of my head.…” As he recounted the events at Milly’s house, Helen listened closely, jotting notes in a small notebook, so she could later write in her grimoire with clarity. His voice shook at the awful parts, and she was tempted to reach out and touch his thigh, but held back. He needed her help, not her touch. So, she ignored the magnetic desire she felt when she was near him and continued to process his experience. When he finished, he finally looked at her. “That sounds wild, doesn’t it?” he asked in a morose voice.
“To the average Pardon citizen, yes.”
He lifted a dark brow. “But you?”
This time, she ignored the pragmatic part of her brain and touched his leg. The hard muscle twitched beneath her fingers as she soothed him. “I believe every word because I’ve experienced similar.”
Granted, she’d never seen the ghost-face of a woman who warned her of a more dangerous ghost, but the fear was probably the same… Everett had at least two spirits, maybe more, plaguing his grandmother’s house. It felt like a daunting challenge, considering Helen had only vanquished one, and with her sister’s help.
He looked down at her hand for a beat before covering it with his own. The warmth of his thigh, coupled with his heavy palm suffused her cheeks with fire. Their touch did that to her. Did it affect him too? His fingers curled around hers and held her tightly. His breathing changed—as did hers—to something more erratic and ragged. “Helen,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she breathed. His other hand slid up her bare arm, and even though she wore a tank top in an air-conditioned store, she still felt feverish under his light touch. Everything in her lizard-brain screamed for her to tackle him against this desk and grind her anxiety away on his strong thighs. She bit her lip to stop herself from acting on those base urges.
His thumb caressed her bicep, only an inch away from her breast. Her nipples tightened with the thought. If only he slipped. If only she had the guts to run her own hand higher up his leg.
But he pulled away and stood up before she could get that chance. Everett dragged his hands over his face and let out a nervous laugh. “Oh God, what am I doing?”
Suddenly bereft from his warm touch, she also stood, taking a step closer to him. “It’s okay,” she said in a soft voice. “You’re still on edge.”
He dropped his hands and gave her a pleading look. “You have no idea how on edge I am.”
Chapter 8
He almost slapped himself across the face.
Everett was this close to leaning down and kissing Helen on the lips. He’d only stopped when he looked at his hand. Seeing it, pressed against her flesh, woke him out of the hot, drunken stupor he’d fallen into. Why did it happen any time she was near? Why did her touch set his skin on fire? A pleasant fire that only pained him when he couldn’t find release.
For a man who’d never been in a hurry to have sex, who was much more comfortable with going slow and learning about people, he was quickly losing control. There was a beast inside of him that wanted nothing more than to claim Helen Beck as his. The other, more reasonable part of his mind needed to keep some space between them. He needed her help, not her body.
Stop thinking of her body.
“It’s okay,” she repeated. “I think you’re still in shock.”
She quickly crossed the distance, to comfort him, and take his hand. He jerked back. “Don’t,” he said.
Helen froze, eyes wide and confused. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
“No, no, it’s not you,” he said in a rush to ease her. But it was her. Everything about her seemed to drive him mad with a fiery lust. She made this office much hotter than it should have been. Surely, she felt it.
She eyed him warily, like he was a wild animal caught in a trap. He certainly felt like it. “Are you also feeling a little too warm?” she asked.
What?
“Maybe the air doesn’t get back here.” It was a weak excuse and she seemed to see through it immediately.
“Okay,” she sighed. “So, something is happening between us. I think it started when you found me in the forest.”
He couldn’t believe she just came right out and said it.
“When you mentioned seeing a glowing light around me, I think you were referring to my aura,” she said. “And I hate to address the elephant in the room, but I know you saw a lot more than that. I was naked and floating in the air. I think there’s something a little deeper going on here. If I’m going to help you with Milly’s house, we need to deal with it now.”
When she finished, she was standing just before him. Her dark brown eyes searched his face with a fascinating mixture of timidness and boldness. But she faced him down, ready to receive any judgment he might give. If she was being brave, maybe he could be too. “You were floating… naked. I tried not to look. I’m sorry.”
Her full lips pursed as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure you got an eyeful, Everett.”
He had.
“I really didn’t want to violate your privacy,” he tried.
“It’s hardly private when it’s on your neighbor’s property. I just wish I had known we lived next to you before stripping down and dancing to Enya.”
Even this conversation burning him up. The languid flow of her voice, the warmth of her nearness lured him into the deep. He opened himself up to receive her words. This woman who only came up to his chest, who spoke bravely, and probably expressed more in this conversation than he’d ever conveyed in thirty-five years…. He wanted her more than any other woman he’d ever encountered and yet, he couldn’t articulate himself worth a damn. “I had no right to intrude,” he tried once more.
“I’m a witch, Everett,” she replied plainly.
You’ve bewitched me, he had wanted to say, because that sounded poetic. Instead, he remained silent and let her words tumble in his brain.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Helen asked, planting her hands on her hips. “How many women tell you that kind of news?”
He couldn’t find the words to answer her questions. Instead, he acted upon the urge that had guided him towards her for the past few days. He stepped forward, took her by the waist and pulled her to him. He leaned over, and when her face was just inches away, he whispered, “I don’t care.”
And he kissed her.
With the devouring force of a thousand suns. In his arms, she seized for just a second before melting against him. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Thank God. His lips pressed hard against hers until Helen took him by the face and opened her mouth to lick his lips. Everett let out a low growl of pleasure, a sound he’d never heard himself make. But she had awoken something deep within him.
