Reapers of the Dark (Cora Roberts #4)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Weirdness isn’t a competitive sport, but if it was, I would take gold.

T here was nothing more satisfying than supernatural drama I wasn’t a part of. Unfortunately, that seemed scarce lately. If anything, I found myself in the center of it more often than not. I couldn’t seem to catch a break, so I clung to those rare moments when the world wasn’t ending and everyone’s life wasn’t being threatened in order to gather energy and strength for the next disaster, which was inevitably around the corner.

I coveted normal life problems and challenges, like running out of tomatoes or needing to change the fire alarm batteries. I also enjoyed love-life drama that wasn’t my own. That was my excuse for why I was stretching my neck from my position on the sofa in the parlor to watch the mini disaster happening at the check-in desk.

Dave and Hudson followed my gaze, and for once, I found myself in the peanut gallery. Where was my popcorn?

Rebecca stomped her dainty foot sheathed in a baby-pink satin pump, which was a perfect match to her flowy sundress. “You cannot do this,” she snapped.

Ezra, the leather-wearing shifter sex god, dangled a key in her face. “Can’t I?”

Maggie’s wide eyes flicked between the pair. “He’s paid up for six weeks,” she helpfully supplied.

Rebecca huffed. “Give him his money back.”

I gave Maggie a subtle head shake. Rebecca knew our policy; unless Ezra broke one of the house rules, he wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, it was she who broke them on a weekly basis, but she knew I would never throw her out—unless she murdered someone—and even then, I would need the details before deciding.

Rebecca tugged on the ends of her ice-blonde hair. This was priceless. How many times had I been out maneuvered by Hudson and she had grinned each and every time, like I was her favorite trash TV show brought to life?

She pointed at the front door. “You can’t stay here.”

Ezra leaned against the desk and smirked. “The key in my hand says differently, Becca, so suck it up, because I am going to be here invading your space. You’ll be seeing me morning, noon, and night.”

Becca?

She fisted her hands at her sides before relaxing her shoulders. Rebecca Lexington, crown vampire princess of the United Kingdom, was in the house. Ezra was about to get served.

“Then I hope you enjoy watching me flaunt my every conquest in your face.”

Ezra went preternaturally still while Maggie ran off to hide in the kitchen, sensing the danger. Dave and Hudson tensed, ready to jump in and restrain one of their own. Idiots. Rebecca could take Ezra with one hand tied behind her back.

Ezra moved and placed his hands on either side of Rebecca, caging her against the desk. She gave him a slow, unbothered blink. “Then you’ll sign their death warrants. I might be patient with you while you come to terms with the fact you are mine, but if you let another man touch you, I will kill him.”

“You’re being dramatic,” she drawled.

“No, baby. You tangled with a cat, and now you are mine.”

I slid an amused look at Hudson. This entire scene looked like a rerun of my life and how he inserted himself into my space until I caved.

Ezra tangled his hand in her hair and yanked her head back. My cheeks heated as he dragged his tongue down her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed, and a small sigh left her lips.

Oh, Rebecca, it’s already too late for you.

She lifted her hand, gripped his hair, twisted her body, and swept her heel-clad foot under his ankle. He clattered to the floor as she stood smirking over him. “Don’t try playing me, Ezra. I’m no pushover.”

He tucked his hands behind his head and grinned as his eyes skittered up her legs. The position meant he had a perfect view up her dress. “I don’t want to play you, baby. I want to play with you.”

She growled, fisted her hands, and flicked her gaze at us. “What are you looking at?”

“We’ll need a schedule on full moons,” Hudson muttered. “Your grounds are about to get very crowded with feral shifters trying to lay claim to their mates.”

Rebecca pointed at him. “Not. Happening.” Then she huffed at the smug shifter on the floor. “At least your room is at the other end of the hall from mine.”

He batted his long eyelashes at her. Oh shit. “Maggie kindly swapped my room around with the throuple couple. They appreciated the extra space.”

Rebecca sucked in a breath. “She did not.”

Ezra chuckled. “So if you even think of sneaking a man into your room, I will happily demonstrate just how serious I am.” Ezra glanced at me. “You have the means to dispose of the bodies, right?”

I raised my hands and took a step back, shaking my head. I refused to be roped into Rebecca’s drama. I couldn’t catch a damn break. At that thought, the wards clanged, making me flinch. There was only one human that would visit me unannounced.

The familiar engine rolled down the drive as Rebecca continued to argue with Ezra. The more incensed she got, the more relaxed he became.

“Were we like this?” I wondered.

“Worse,” Dave answered. “And there’s no past tense—you still are. You could consider rebranding with all the relationship drama going on.”

“You are part of said drama, so shut your mouth.”

He grinned. Oh boy . Dangerous Dave grinning was oddly terrifying. My world was only right when he wore one of his scowls.

The front door swung open and Robert, the town’s sheriff, swaggered inside and pulled up sharply at the sight of the arguing pair.

“If I can’t have visitors in my room, I’m going to have to opt for self-care, and we both know how loud I can get,” Rebecca snapped.

Robert tilted his head like he was trying to understand why bubble baths and face masks would cause Rebecca to be loud. She doesn’t mean that kind of self care, Sheriff.

Deciding to risk his life, Ezra grasped Rebecca’s calves, and in a move that showcased his superior strength and balance, rose to his feet, lifting her into the air with him. “Let me show you why I am always the better option than self care, Becca.” Rebecca squealed as he took off up the stairs.

Robert swung a thumb over his shoulder. “Is that something we should intervene in?”

“No,” we all chorused from the parlor as Rebecca’s bedroom door slammed closed, cutting off her laughter.

He nodded just as Harry came zooming in through the front window. I raised a brow at my ghostly sidekick, who had been mysteriously absent lately. Not that he answered to me, but given I was the only person he’d found that could hear him, he tended to stick close.

I stood before Hudson got any bright ideas about carrying me off to our room. He quirked an eyebrow at me like he’d heard that thought. “Later,” I uttered, before turning my attention to Robert. I’d known the sheriff for a long time. At one point, he’d shown some romantic interest in me, and if The Principal hadn’t already stolen my heart, I might have entertained a relationship with the level-headed sheriff who took supernatural drama in his stride.

“How can I help you on this fine evening, Sheriff?” I asked. He stalked into the parlor and slid his ass into an armchair with a sigh. He looked weary. “Maggie, please bring some of Aunt Liz’s homemade lemonade and a plate of those freshly baked cookies.” Everything looked better with sugary goodness. I suspected Robert wasn’t taking care of himself as he juggled the interesting residents of White Castle.

Maggie emerged with my request and tilted her head at the sheriff as she stood behind him. “Is he okay?” she mouthed.

I shrugged. I didn’t think so, as Robert wasn’t fond of dramatics. She frowned, reached out slowly, and put a hand on his shoulder before giving it a quick squeeze. Robert jolted in his seat like he’d been electrocuted. Maggie was initiating touch? Was the world ending?

She snapped it away and ran off to the kitchen. Nope, all was restored.

“There’s some weird shit happening,” Robert started after he’d demolished three cookies and gulped a glass of lemonade. I refilled it from the pitcher.

“There’s always weird shit happening,” Dave pointed out.

“This is extra weird.”

“About that,” Harry said.

Oh no.

“I think we are being haunted,” Robert said as he swiped his hand down his face like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Spirits aren’t exactly big news. There’s one hovering at your right shoulder as we speak,” I told him.

Robert didn’t even turn to look like most people would. He grabbed the glass and chugged it down.

“But I can’t see it?—”

“Him. Harry, to be exact,” I cut in.

“Right, Harry. But can he make things move? Lift people’s hair? Can he make people believe they are seeing walls of blood or sinking beneath the dark ocean?”

No, he couldn’t do any of those things. Ghosts were unable to move things. People felt their presence on a fundamental level—cold spots, the prickle on the back of your neck, goosebumps—but manifestations were extremely rare.

“Like Amityville?” Hudson asked. Horror movie fan. Weirdo.

“Or Titanic,” Dave added.

Modern day Laurel and Hardy.

Robert didn’t seem to hear us. He lifted his hand in front of him and turned it over like he was checking he was still here.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

He blinked and dropped his hand into his lap to focus on me. “I have this recurring nightmare where I’m on a spaceship. I get trapped in an airlock and sucked out into space—right before my body implodes.”

Odd and terrifying nightmare, but I’m not seeing it as a prediction for the world ending.

Hudson leaned forward. “Aliens?”

Oh for fu ? —

Robert shook his head. “That’s not what freaked me out. Well, it’s not the only thing. The nightmare I just experienced in the parking lot of the Pit was.”

“You fell asleep in the car?” I asked. He looked exhausted.

“No, I was awake. But that’s not why I’m sitting here in this crazy house spilling my weird encounter to almost strangers.”

“It’s okay. We’re good with weird here,” I coaxed.

“Understatement,” Dave grumbled.

Robert lost a little focus in his gaze. “I was answering a call at The Pit. Karen’s adamant a customer slapped her ass.”

Hudson shuddered. Karen was oddly terrifying for a human. Messing with her was like playing with fire. But I’d never known her to lie or spin tales. If she said someone slapped her ass, then someone slapped her ass.

“I went over to calm everyone down,” he stated. “I reviewed the CCTV with her, and it one hundred percent looks like someone slapped her.”

“But?” Hudson asked. Because there was most definitely a but in this butt story.

“Her skirt moved, and there was a momentary dent on her left cheek. But there was no one behind the bar but her, no one close enough to have reached over and committed the act.”

My gaze lifted to Harry.

He huffed. “I am a gentleman, Miss Roberts. Even if I could, I would not put my hands on unsuspecting women. I have a wife.” He blinked. “Had. I had a wife. If I’d found a way to cross the divide, I would be with her.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I told him.

Robert frowned.

“She’s speaking to the specter,” Dave muttered. “You get used to it.”

“Do you know anything about it?” I said softly.

Harry straightened his tie like he meant business. “I do.”

“Tell me.”

“It would be easier to show you.”

I squeezed my eyes closed and sighed. “Looks like we’re going to The Pit.”

“It’s line dancing night,” Robert informed us.

Wonderful. My evening wouldn’t be complete without a little synchronized dancing.

Hudson clapped his hands with glee. “Perfect.”

Wait. He liked line dancing? There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes that I was not enjoying one bit. Why me?