Donovan hadn’t stepped foot in the room yet, but he hovered just inside the doorway. “What’s the difference?”
“A residual haunting isn’t an active spirit. It’s just a memory. Think of it like a snapshot of a moment that plays over and over like a broken record. Nothing’s actually there to interact with. Mediums find residual hauntings irritating because we have to watch them for a few seconds before we can determine if the spirits are the type to be responsive or not.”
I’d read up on a lot of this, but I liked how Mack explained it. He was good at putting all of this into layman’s terms.
Mack stopped dead in the center of the room and nodded. “I don’t sense anything in here. What I’ll do is line the window and door with salt. Just renew the salt line every morning and make sure to step over it, okay? A broken line will give a spirit the ability to pass through.”
Donovan nodded instantly. “Any kind of salt?”
“Or sugar. Rock salt works best, though. Should I check the other room as well?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to seal off my room. I’m kinda hoping something happens. Nothing did last time.”
Mack smiled up at me, and I could tell he was delighted with my attitude. “Yeah? You stayed here before, you said that, but you were hoping for a sighting?”
“Sure. I’ve only seen a ghost once before. I’ve never been able to repeat the experience, and I’m really aggravated about that.”
Donovan sighed heavily and told me point blank, “Tokotaha faikehe.”
I immediately lunged for him. That was just uncalled for. He ducked, falling into a fighting stance.
“Boys, boys,” Jon admonished, although there was a twinkle in his eye. “You two are worse than cats in a sack, I swear. Donovan, no name calling.”
“I told him he’s weird,” Donovan protested, defending himself.
“I am weird and proud of it,” I said, still willing to wrestle my point. “But ghosts are not weird.”
Jon rolled his eyes heavenward. “I really feel sorry for your sister. It must have been something growing up with you two.”
“Are you kidding?” Donovan pulled a face. “Sammy’s mean.”
I nodded in fervent agreement. “We don’t mess with our sister. She’ll take us out.”
Mack’s eyebrows slowly got lost in his hairline. “I can’t imagine taking both of you down. No offense, but you’re built like linebackers.”
“Sam’s about my height, too,” Jon said, smirking now because of course it was funny to him. Sam liked him. She wouldn’t do anything to him. “Which makes it funnier. But they really will not cross her. Then again, I have a sister, and I won’t cross her either. Sisters are conniving about getting revenge.”
And Sam was cleverer than most. Or more underhanded. Take your pick.
While this conversation was interesting and all, it didn’t really help me. I was still curious about my reaction to Mack. I wanted more time with him without a lot of people interfering to give me a chance to figure it out. If I didn’t say something now, I might lose my chance. “So, um, Mack. Since we don’t really know the area all that well, how about you tell us some good restaurants? Maybe we can have dinner together and plan for the next few days.”
“Yeah, sure. What are you in the mood to eat?”
Yes, okay, good. That worked. Thank god he was the friendly type. Even if my brother and Jon were the third and fourth wheels for dinner, it was fine. It wasn’t like I wanted to go on a date with him. I just wanted more time to interact with Mack. If my reaction to him now wasn’t some fluke brought on by my conversation with Jon earlier, then who knew? Maybe this would be worth pursuing.
4
Brandon Havili should come with warning labels. Heat advisory, side effect of cardiac arrest, with the possibility of blue balls. He didn’t just sound like a mountain, he was about the size of one, too, and that mountain was all muscle. It was covered by lovely, sun-kissed, copper skin, and gorgeous brown eyes that bordered on gold. My focus was really on exploring what lay under those form-fitting jeans he wore so deliciously well. The man was sex on legs and apparently unaware of it, as he was friendly without being flirty.
Well, he might have been flirting? At the very least, the way he looked at me made my gaydar ping. It was a look of interest, as if he found me attractive. And let me tell you, that was a stroke to my ego. The man who could be a poster boy for a fitness gym thought I looked good. I would so take that and run with it.
I got out of there before I could make an idiot of myself and hit on him. I really, really needed to play it cool until I could figure him out. I didn’t think he’d take it badly if I did make a pass, though. I mean, his brother and boyfriend were obviously on good terms with him, which said a lot. Still, I needed to work with this man. Maybe take this in baby steps, yeah.
We made arrangements to meet at one of the Mexican restaurants in town, which worked out well as I had an envie for some Mexican. I scooted back to Beau’s house for an hour to settle Emma into my room. She was a little leery of being in a place she didn’t know, but I introduced her to the resident house ghost—the momma bear of the group—and that reassured her. I also read through the note on her and got a better feeling for what I needed to do to help her pass on.
I debated changing into something different but couldn’t figure out what without dressing up, which might make my interest too obvious and thereby awkward. Yeah…let’s not. I pocketed a large jar of rock salt instead and hopped back into the car.
Eureka Springs was a beautiful town. It wasn’t large by any standard, and the architecture for the most part hailed from a different era, when steam engines were a new thing. Nestled in between the rolling green hills of Arkansas, it was picturesque and peaceful. At least on the surface.
I found it really hard to drive in the town or to rest easy. There were so, so many ghosts here. Most of them had good energy to draw from, and at a glance or from the corner of my eye, it was hard to determine if they were person or spirit. I was constantly on the verge of hitting my brakes. One of the many reasons a medium needed an anchor was that it was difficult for us to drive. We couldn’t really trust our eyes.
To be honest, the idea of having an anchor wasn’t real to me in some ways. It was kind of a fantasy. I’d grown up surrounded by spirits and disbelieving people. The ones who did believe me thought I dabbled in Voodoo. It was hardly a comfortable environment. I’d only dreamed of meeting people who would treat me like I was normal. That my sight was normal. Beau and Hannah had given me that, as well as a place in the FBI where I’d work with even more people who would do the same. It was my dream come true.
Having an anchor? Fairytale level stuff, right there.
Beau acted so nonchalant about it, as did Hannah. They took it for granted. They didn’t understand why I reacted as if they casually spoke of finding me a unicorn. I didn’t know how to explain it to them, either.
But did I want an anchor? Hell yes.
A jaywalker started across the street at a gliding pace, and I slammed on the brakes before I could hit her. The car behind me nearly rear-ended me, and the driver honked his horn in an outraged manner. Only after the pedestrian passed me did I realize she was in full late 1800s dress with no feet. Aw, dammit. I waved an apology to the man behind me, thanked the heavens we hadn’t actually had a collision, and kept driving. I really had to get the hang of driving until I could find an anchor. Who knew how long that would take.