Page 4 of Ashes and Lilies
Damen’s grin faltered. My pulse skipped. Had I failed to keep the nervousness from my voice?
I had to persevere. This was outside my realm of experience. We were friends, and I could not let Damen think I was remotely attracted to him in any way.
Before he could speak, his attention suddenly snapped across the room. Someone must have said his name. The playboy persona was gone instantly, and the cool, collected cloak of confidence fell heavily around him.
My mouth went dry. Now, it would be even harder to ignore him.
“Just take a look around,” he told me, touching my head. The sparkle had returned briefly to his eyes as he addressed me, but casual professionalism oozed from his posture. This calm, assured person took my breath away.
“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” he said.
Then he turned from me and crossed the room, joining the others.
I looked after him, and my skin began to grow clammy. I was in trouble—this feeling was much easier to ignore when he was flirting.
I had to get out of here.
I crossed the room, stumbled through the small kitchen and out onto the patio without a second thought. The backyard was overgrown, and the deck was unsteady, but at least nobody was around.
The cool air helped soothe my nerves, but the tightness in my chest refused to go away. My mind began to clear as I knelt in the grass, and a long moment passed before the secondary reason for my unease came to light.
I’d been distracted enough to overlook the most obvious thing of all.
An indiscernible voice cut through the silence behind me, and I turned to see an old man standing on the porch. He watched me with a mix of confusion and irritation.
“How did you get into my yard?” he demanded with a scowl. He moved toward me, heavily leaning on his cane despite hisghostly state. How he carried himself indicated that he was unaware of his current situation.
I should probably let him know.
My nerves sparked as my thoughts raced. I wasn’t the greatest at delivering bad news and this was sure to upset him. But something must be said.
Was this why Damen wanted a medium?
“Well—” I began.
“And where in the world are your chaperones?” the old man sharply asked. “Running around like this, without a care in the world? Back in my day, we had respect for ourselves and others. It’s like you’ve got a death wish.”
I bit my bottom lip.
I wasn’t sure why my state of aloneness so perturbed him, but he didn’t seem the sort to take news of his demise lightly. Plus, if he were this disturbed about my presence, the other people milling about his house would surely set him off.
The last time this happened, things had been very messy.
“Are you daft?” he asked. “Answer me. I’ve got better things to do than babysit a clueless youngster. Who’s supposed to be looking after you?”
“I’m sorry!” My face burned. I had to calm him down before the rampaging began.
But he wasn't forgiving. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said. “Whom do I need to contact?”
A sense of foreboding warred with my concerns. Why would he need to call anybody?
“The police!” he answered his own question. My heart pounded as he began to turn toward the house, and when that happened, chaos would ensue. Ghostly tantrums, blood writing on the walls…
What could I do? What could I say? If he went inside now,he’d probably figure it out. Damen would be blindsided by the aftermath of a raging spirit. And gosh…
While it was true that he caused my heart to race and enjoyed saying weird things that made me want to bury my face in a pillow, I still didn’t want to see the ceiling collapse onto his head.
This had to be Caleb Weaver. Hadn’t Norman said that he’d been a professor at the school? We were somewhat close to campus, and it wasn’t that large of a school. I was sure the professors must know each other.
