4
A ssuming Laszlo was in good hands with another Thorne witch, Ebba took a few extra minutes to wash the blood from her hands. Despite all the teasing, the sight of him injured had triggered her. She’d always viewed him as so alive and strong. Of course, Lo had no way of knowing, but Spencer had been similarly injured, only he’d never recovered from his head wound.
After nearly scrubbing herself raw, Ebba inspected her hands and nails to assure herself not a trace of blood remained. She splashed frigid water on her hot face, hoping to cool herself down. Yes, she was overstimulated by recent events, but these random feverish moments had started well before today.
At strange periods throughout the day, her flesh felt too tight for her body, and her muscles would cramp. One would assume the injuries she sustained in the wreck had created lingering physical maladies. Still, it didn’t explain why her core temperature would spike and feel like the Chernobyl reactor in the hours prior to the nuclear disaster.
Ebba dried her face and sank onto the mattress’s edge as she recalled her recent accident. If what Lo had said was true, she was haunting herself, and the spirit riding her back wasn’t Spencer’s. How was that possible? For the most part, she felt normal. Sure, there were a few memory gaps, but she’d retained the ability to function and work. If the spirit had left her body, wouldn’t she be dead or in a coma?
And what about Spencer? Had he moved on after his eventual death? Should she ask Laszlo if he could find out?
“Ebba?”
His worried voice penetrated her chaotic thoughts, and when she shifted to face the door, she gasped. His wound was completely healed, and his clothes were returned to their standard pristine condition. No evidence of Niall’s attack remained.
“How is that possible?” she croaked. “Am I losing my mind?”
Lo sent a frowning glance down at his shirt before shaking his head and joining her on the bed. “No, you’re not losing it. It’s witchcraft.”
“Witchcraft,” she repeated, feeling inane and out of her depth. Was she dreaming? Had she never woken up after her car hit the tree? Perhaps she was in limbo, where oddball things were passed off as the norm.
Cupping her face, he caressed her jawline with his thumb. “Are you okay? You seemed to be fine earlier, but now you look pale.”
“I was recalling my accident.” She drew back to avoid his touch. “And Spencer.”
“I remember Liz saying he didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Ebba.”
Unexpected tears burned her lids as she closed them against the sympathy he displayed. “Don’t. Don’t be nice about it. It was all my fault.”
“Accidents aren’t anyone’s fault,” he countered gently.
When she lifted her lids, it was to see tenderness reflected in his eyes. “We fought that night. I wanted to apply the brakes on our relationship, but he… he…”
“Because you were driving and wanted to end your relationship, you think somehow you caused your jeep to hit a tree?” His voice was thick with skepticism. “Unless you purposely aimed for it, you’re not at fault.”
“That’s the thing. I think I did.”
He sucked in sharply and stared at her. His compassion changed to utter shock.
Lord, how damning her comment sounded!
“I wasn’t trying to end things that way,” she rushed to add. “I just wanted to scare him. Make him think I was crazy so he’d get the message and take a hike.”
“There are better ways to get rid of someone,” Castor said from the doorway, but he appeared unperturbed by her confession. “I could teach you a few.”
“Ironic, since he’s one of those who won’t get the message and take a hike,” Lo muttered.
“Are you saying crazy doesn’t work to scare men off?” Ebba released an incredulous snort.
Castor’s grin flashed. “Not when they look like you. Men welcome your kind of crazy, love.”
Under his direct stare, she grew warm and considered splashing more cold water on her face. Anything to cool off from the excess of attention being shown her. Who knew this much testosterone in one room could fire her up quicker than an engine at the beginning of a NASCAR race?
Speaking of cars…
She met Laszlo’s watchful gaze. “Do spirits linger at the site of their death? Would Spencer be in the vicinity of that tree?”
“Sometimes that happens. They’re more likely to go where they were the most comfortable or where there’s unfinished business, like in your case.”
“Her case?” Castor straightened from the doorway where he lounged, his entire demeanor changing to one of concern as he strode across the room. “You’re being haunted?”
Lo surged to his feet and stepped between them. “Settle down, tiger. I’m on it.”
Icy blue eyes narrowed as they swept the length of him and summed him up. With a shrug of dismissal for Laszlo, Castor shifted to go around him, but came up short when Lo sidestepped in his way, anticipating the move.
“Close enough. Neither of us knows you.”
A mocking smile curled the other man’s mouth. “I’m one of your cousin’s oldest friends, boyo. Alastair doesn’t grant affection lightly, and that should tell you everything you need to know about me.”
Acknowledging Castor’s challenge with a grimace, Lo’s shoulders eased from their tense position. Ebba breathed a sigh of relief. Why was he being so protective of her? It wasn’t because of her split-spirit issue, right?
“Your living room has been restored to its former glory,” Alastair said, poking his head into the room. His sapphire gaze met hers and displayed a wealth of understanding and kindness. “Why don’t we adjourn there to discuss what’s happening?”
Could the man sense her overwrought hormones? She didn’t dare ask. The answer was likely too embarrassing for her to live another moment longer.
Lo gestured for Castor to precede them from the room, but when she’d have followed, he halted her with a hand on her arm. “When we’re through here, I’ll see what I can discover about Spencer. See if he’s moved on.”
The immense gratitude she experienced caused her to fling herself at him. She was somewhat shocked when he was quick to anticipate her move and return her embrace.
“Thank you, Lo.”
“You’re welcome, Ebba.”
For the longest moment, he held her, and all felt right with her world. As if she was experiencing a sense of wellness and a homecoming of sorts. And because the feeling was so foreign from anything she’d known, she drew away, giving him a tight smile but not meeting his eyes.
“We should go,” she said in a low voice.
He simply nodded and guided her toward the door.
When they were all comfortable, Laszlo launched into the tale of two spirits and how potential splits happened. In Ebba’s case, he surmised a near-death experience.
Castor initially showed disbelief, then transitioned to fascination, while Alastair expressed deep concern for Ebba. As an empath, his cousin tended to feel things stronger than most, though it wasn’t well-known. His badass reputation kept people at a distance, fearful of his darker side. And rightfully so. As the Thorne Patriarch and favorite of the Goddess, he possessed untold gifts. Lo doubted if their family knew the full extent of the man’s abilities. Other, more powerful beings existed, but they gave Al the respect he was due, mainly because he was as crafty as they came. If a clever plan was required, one need only call Alastair.
But if his cousin was worried about Ebba, it was likely she was suppressing signs of her anxiety, and he was picking up on it. Perhaps she was unconvinced or in denial. Eventually, however, she’d need to get on board with his plan to fuse her fractured soul and body back together.
“Is it possible to have the soul split off completely?” Castor asked, for once not over the top with his abundant sexuality.
“The journals I’ve read would indicate yes, but it would leave an uncaring, ruthless individual in its place. I’m not convinced it happens that way,” Lo replied. When his answer created a trio of frowning faces, he continued. “The body needs the spark of a spirit to live. If the soul leaves the body, nothing remains but a husk.”
“But wouldn’t that relate to what you’ve read? Isn’t the personality shift the same thing?” Ebba asked.
Lo considered the question, then shrugged. “Technically, I suppose so. If one’s body were healthy enough, they could survive without a soul. I’m inclined to believe you need both, though.”
“Actually, I’ve dealt with split souls in the past. I can assure you, when that happens, the physical body does indeed house an uncaring and ruthless individual, as Laszlo suggested,” Alastair said, climbing to his feet to cross to the kitchen. With a backward glance and half smile for Ebba, he nodded to the coffeemaker. “Do you mind?”
“Oh! No! Not at all.” When she would’ve jumped up, Laszlo placed a restraining hand on her thigh. “Wait for it.”
It took less than a minute for Alastair to place four mugs on a tray and conjure the coffee to fill them. Lo laughed at her astonished expression as a bottle of aged Glenfiddich appeared in the center of the tray.
She shifted wide eyes to him. “Can you do that, too?”
“Yes.”
Next, she turned her wondrous gaze on Castor. “And you?”
His smile was pure wicked delight. “Would you like me to show you what I can do, dear Ebba?”
“Ye—”
“No, she would not!” Lo stated succinctly, dropping an arm across her shoulders. The probability was high that he’d just reacted as Castor intended he should, but he’d be damned if the man didn’t get under his skin with his model good looks and jackal-like grin. Though, if Laszlo was inclined to be generous, he might say it was wolfish or devilish. Yet he wasn’t so inclined and was one hundred percent prepared to view his new rival in an unfavorable light.
Satisfaction shone in Castor’s eyes as he watched them, and Lo was left to wonder if the man was trying to manipulate the situation in some unexpected way. If so, why? Was his intent to have Lo lay claim to Ebba? The man hadn’t met either of them before that day, so what was in it for him?
Yet as Ebba watched Castor, a frown drawing her brows together on her lovely visage, she appeared confused. Was it possible she was on the same wavelength and recognized the oddity of Castor’s behavior? Later, when they were alone, he’d ask her.
He looked at Ebba’s detached spirit lingering atop the kitchen island. Her hands gripped the counter on either side of her hips, and she swung her dangling legs as if bored. When she noticed his attention on her, she nodded toward Castor.
“He was there that day.”
“What?”
His emphatic shout, seemingly from nowhere, startled the returning Alastair enough to have mugs and decanter clinking as he steadied the tray.
“Jaysus, boy! You almost gave the old man a heart attack,” Castor chortled. “I thought I’d never see the day.”
“Stuff it, Alex,” Al growled, dividing his displeasure between Castor and Lo equally. “What was so all-fired important you needed to shout, son?”
Ignoring him to glare at Castor, Laszlo surged to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell us you were there when Ebba had her accident?”