Ghost Whisperer Read online

  Just because I understand the meaning behind his bad behavior doesn't mean I have to like it. I'm not a martyr, for Christ's sake. Joan of Arc hasn't been giving me any tips and hints on selflessness.

  “Well, David, did you take drugs?”

  “You know the answer to that. Tell her I love her. That I've always loved her.”

  Surprised, but not showing it, I lean forward and, in a soft voice, tell Anya, “He told me to tell you he loved you, and has for a very long time.”

  When her cheeks pinken, the tears beginning to flow, her mother protests, “Is this really necessary?”

  “You shouldn't have brought her if you didn't think she should be here,” I tell the older woman but she ignores me.

  “Anya, we should go, I don't want you getting upset over that boy again.”

  The that boy remark raises my hackles. David sees it and shakes his head. “She never liked me.”

  Anya's words mingle with David's. “No! Mother, be quiet, I want to know what happened to him. I need to know.”

  Eying the stoicism on her face, I shake my head. “It might be more than you can handle.”

  Anya jumps up, then striding over to me, she gets back on her knees, and in a position of supplication, begs, “Please. I need to know more.”

  “His drink was spiked with Ketamine.”

  My words are like an avalanche. They blanket the room.

  “By who?” someone calls out, one brave soul filtering through the silence.

  For a second, I study David, whose focus is entirely on Anya. “You heard the man, David. Who spiked your drink?” He doesn't reply, but I didn't expect him to. This charade is for me to handle, not him. “A bully, you say? Someone who also bullies you, Anya? Is that right?”

  “Anya! You're being bullied?” her mother sits up, her voice half-squawk and half-rage.

  It's the rage that makes me feel better for David's friend. At least Anya's mother gives a damn. My own didn't care less if people stuck my head down a toilet or gave me Indian burns so bad I felt like my forearms were going to drop off. Being weird sucked in Tiny Town, Back End of Nowhere.

  Anya ducks her head. “It doesn't matter.”

  “Of course it matters.”

  I look at the older woman. “There's a boy...Nathan? Cambridge, is it?”

  A boy closer to Natalie, my enthusiastic host, pipes up, “Nate Cambright, is that who you mean?”

  “Is that right, David? Did Nate Cambright spike your drink?” I nod, as sagely as I'm able. “Yes, it is he.”

  Anya reaches for my hand and squeezes down. In the resulting furor of my words, words that accuse an underage boy of manslaughter, she whispers, “Tell him I loved him too.”

  “He already knows,” I tell her, smiling gently. “There's no need to cry. He's safe.” I'd say he was well, but that's a verdict that will come with time.

  “He was so clever.” She shakes her head. “It's hard going to school without him.”

  “Tell her I'm with her, even if she doesn't know it.”

  I do as I'm bid. “You have to do him proud. He's with you, watching over you.”

  She presses a hand to her face as her shoulders bow with grief. “I'm glad,” she whispers. “I'm glad.”

  I look over at David who is as devastated as Anya, and I sigh. Around my small seating area, the room, filled with those that matter in this pompous part of society, are all gossiping. I wish my work here was done, but if this rumor is to spread and for people to give credence to my word, then I have to prove it further, establish the fact that I'm a true psychic.

  And while the show must go on, I have to huff out a laugh at the things a woman will do for a man she has a crush on…

  Chapter Six

  Jayce

  “How did it go?”

  I'm tired by the time I make it out of Natalie's house. I had to do a lot more reveals and a lot more backing up of my gifts to ensure the notion Nate Cambright was behind David's death is firmly fixed in everyone's minds.

  Whether it will work, whether the rumor mill will start to grind away, I don't know.

  If it all comes back on me, it all comes back on me. It's not the first time I've been in court, and it won't be the last, but, I'll just wrangle it the way I usually do. When the jurors with spirits learn things about themselves that only someone close could know, or when a judge hearing a libel suit discovers something deeply personal from a less than usual source...well, things have a way of turning in my favor.

  “It's good to see you,” I tell him by way of an answer.

  He sighs. “I'm sorry, I should have asked about you. Are you okay? That must have been tiring.”

  I hadn't meant it as a rebuke, but it's cute that he takes it that way. “I'm fine. It was draining, but I think it went well. I reinforced their beliefs in my powers far more than I ever have before. I didn't make it obvious that David was the whole reason behind the damned séance. I've sown the seeds, Drake. There isn't much else I can do.”

  The street is slick with rain that fell late that afternoon. The air, in this part of the city, is fresher than most other areas and the cab I called to wait for me is hovering nearby, ruining that lovely green tint to the atmosphere. I hadn't expected to see Drake here, although, in retrospect, that was probably short-sighted of me. Is it being too sappy if I say that the moon seems to shine a little brighter now he's here?

  Holy crap, I'm obviously a goner. I'm just grateful Kenna isn't here to mock me, because I'd never live that down.

  “Thank you, Jason.” He sucks in a deep breath. “This w-wouldn't be possible… I'd never have known the truth without you...”

  “It's Jayce, remember. And you're welcome.” I smile at him and reach forward to clasp his hand. “Kenna said something today, and it made me think.”

  He frowns. “About what?”

  “You and me.”

  “What about us?” When his frown immediately disappears at my question, and at his use of the word 'us,' well, it makes me feel things I hadn't thought about in a long while. My apathy is slowly becoming a thing of the past thanks to this man, but the habit of not feeling has yet to dispel.

  It's hard to come to terms with the fact I'm no longer alone, and I don't think Drake is even aware of what that inclusion does to me and how it makes me feel.

  “How slow we're taking this. We haven't even kissed yet.”

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  I shake my head. “No, not really.”

  “Then why are you thinking about it?”

  “Because it made me realize something.”

  “What?”

  “That you're special.”

  His smile is slow in coming. “I'm glad I am, Jayce,” he replies, taking a step closer to me. The scent of his aftershave could have been overwhelming, but the fresh tanginess appeals to me like a hot cup of coffee does on a cold winter morning. “I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling like this. You're special to me too.”

  I grab the two sides of his coat and pull them apart. Stepping into him, letting my chest brush his, I sigh when he moves to embrace me. I'm shorter than him by a handful of inches, and from this angle, I can see the tension about his jaw and eyes. “Drake, I can't make any promises about David.”

  “I don't need you to. You tried. We tried. And now, hopefully, a part of David can be at peace.”

  “It's hardly fair though. Nate Cambright is a murderer.”

  “Life isn't fair, Jayce.” He lifts a hand and brushes a few strands of hair away from my face. I sigh into the move, and tilt my head to let him cup my jaw. “Look at you, you deal with death every single day, and I deal with people who are broken from something that happened to them or someone who came into their lives and turned their worlds upside down. Neither of us are idealists, both of us have our feet planted firmly on the ground.

  “Of course I'd like Cambright to be punished, but more than that, I wanted David's name cleared. He was not a junkie, or a druggie. He did no
t overdose, and even if those snotty bastards in there are the only ones to ever realize it, that's something, because they're the circles David and Cambright were running in.”

  Looking up into his hazel eyes, I murmur, “My world is like this every day, Drake, you just said it yourself. Are you sure you want to get caught up with me? I'm not always good news.”

  He smiles for a second, then traces his thumb along the curve of my bottom lip. “Maybe that's true, but Jayce, you're my kind of news.”

  And then, he lowers his head and kisses me.

  And my foot pops like something out of a Doris Day movie.

  And while happily ever after will never be in store for us, and we both have our own crap to deal with, it's the start of something new. The start of something good.

  But that's for another story.

  THE BEGINNING

  Read on for the next chapter…

  GHOST AVENGER

  Also by Serena Akeroyd

  I’d love to see you in my Diva reader’s group where you can find out all the gossip on new releases as and when they happen. You can join here.

  Until I see you there, here are more of my books for you to read…

  The Gods Are Back In Town

  Hotter than Hades

  The Sun Revolves Around Apollo

  Five Points, Hell’s Kitchen

  A Screwed Duet

  Screw You

  Screw Me

  Filthy Feckers

  Filthy Hot (COMING SOON)

  FourWinds

  Queen of the Vamps

  Kingdom of Veronia

  Perry & Her Princes

  Her Highness, Princess Perry

  Long Live Queen Perry

  QUINTESSENCE

  Charmed by Them

  Healed by Them

  Worshipped by Them

  Protected by Them

  Loved by Them

  QUINTESSENCE: The Sequels

  Sawyer

  Andrei

  Kurt

  Anchor Pride Series

  Claimed by Caden

  McKinnon’s Mate

  The Corsakis

  Three’s Never A Crowd

  Old Enough to Know Better

  The Federation

  A Menage Made on Madison

  La Belle sans La Bete Series

  Menage Material

  A Thoroughly Modern Menage

  Forever Theirs

  Secrets & Lies

  The TriAlpha Chronicles

  Origin

  Trinity

  Triskele

  Triad

  Triumph

  Trierna

  TriAlpha

  Los Lobos

  The Raw Touch

  The Salsang Chronicles (written with Helen Scott)

  Stained Egos

  Stained Hearts

  Stained Minds