Page 24 of The Mare Rider of Cornwall Cove
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The third thwack to the kidney was the final one.
With a moan, I rolled back to cuddle with Phil, who was kicking and flailing like a thrashing machine. As soon as he sensed my warmth beside him, he quieted. Lying beside him, with my hand on the nape of his sweaty neck, I could only imagine what kind of nightmares he was living through. I’d never had an encounter like that with an unknown force, but it had battered my boyfriend both physically and mentally. I leaned up on my elbow to squint at the clock. Just five in the morning. Shit, I was going to be doubly exhausted, but I knew that if I laid down I’d just stare at the ceiling until the next round of bed ju-jitsu broke out. So, I placed a kiss on the fine gold hairs on the back of his neck, listened to him sigh, and slipped out of bed.
My robe lay over the back of my office chair, so I pulled that on after putting on my glasses and locating my slippers. Then I went to my dresser, opened my sock drawer, and removed theancient tome of the ghost hunters. It had no true name. I’d just started calling it that because it sounded dope. Sue me, I was a shallow college kid. With my book tucked under my arm, I snuck out of my tiny bedroom, used the bathroom to empty my poor bladder of all the tea I’d drunk before bed, and padded into the open living room/kitchen where Reggie was staring down at the kettle.
“A watched pot,” I said as I made my way to the cupboard to get a mug.
“Hmm, yes, so that old saying goes. I thought you’d be abed until noontide given the goings on last night,” he said, seemingly a million miles away.
“Phil’s really restless,” I confessed, rubbing my aching lower back. “Plus, I need to figure out what that thing we encountered last night is and how to deal with it.”
The regal blond marquis shot me his most disapproving look just as the kettle started to boil. “Don’t give me that look. I have this gift for a reason, Reg. You’ve heard Grandpa say it a thousand times. Kids and teens all go out there for the hell of it, just to be brave or whatever, and that thing is preying on them. That’s…well, it’s not cool.”
“Either is you risking your health, and that of your beau, to end this grumpkin’s reign at some bloody lunatic asylum.”
“Reg, I know it’s scary.”
“Hmpf.” He threw some leaves into a diffuser, most of them missing the tiny metal ball, and sloshed hot water over them. He sure could throw a tiff better than anyone I had ever known, dead or alive. Maybe that was a skill the regal set of that time were taught. He shoved the mug at me with attitude, his gaze locked on the wall in front of us. “Scary is one thing. Dangerous is another.” His gaze flew to me as he turned to face me. “I know your legacy is one of service to the living and the dead. We appreciate all that the Kee family has done for us over thecenturies, but I shall not sit idly by and watch you harm yourself and that delightful lad slumbering fitfully in your bed!”
I exhaled a little dramatically. His slim brow arched. “Reg, thank you for your concern, but this is what the Kee clan does. I’m not happy about the headaches, the nosebleeds, or the danger that Phil steps into unwittingly even though I try to prep him the best that I can.” He bit down on his lower lip. “Not that kind of prep.” I shoved my hand through my hair. “Reggie, we all do what we have to do. I’ve tried to ignore this part of me for years, but lately…” I shrugged as I stared down at the tea darkening in my favorite mug. “I feel like Grandpa is right about a lot more things the older I get. I’m responsible for my actions. And the consequences of those actions. I also see that even though karma may influence the present, I’m not trapped by fate. I make my own path through life with my intentions and actions. Trying to help the dead and those who are touched by them is in my genes. It’s what we Kees are asked to do in our own ways. This is my way.”
He pursed his lips and tugged at the silver gorget resting on his throat. “Dash it.” He frowned at me. “I was quite set on giving you a firm dressing down, but now I cannot do that as you’re simply doing what your family has done over the ages. Helping others. Why must you be so damn honorable? It takes all the air out from under my kite.”
“Sorry?”
“As you should be. Now take your tea downstairs and join Miss Monique. She, too, has been awake for some time seeking answers about the being you encountered last night.”
I nodded, took my old mug, and crept down the stairs to the bookstore. Hidden under the stairs, sitting on the sofa with her feet on the floor, surrounded by books and scribblings, sat Monique in her thick winter pajamas, robe, and slippers. A cup of coffee, steam curling from the mug, sat amid the tomesscattered over the coffee table. She glanced up at me over the top of her tiny new Ben Franklin reading glasses as the steps creaked out my arrival.
“You should be in bed, sugar,” she said, her voice low and soft, holding a tint of maternal tenderness that I’d not had my entire life. It felt good. Still, I was wary of getting too attached in case Grandpa and she broke up or she got tired of hanging out with the weirdest bunch of booksellers in Massachusetts. “Your soul light must be quite depleted.”
“It’s a little low, but Phil’s is worse. He’s sleeping, but fitfully.” She nodded solemnly as I came around the end of the sofa and wiggled into a spot between her and a hefty book titledGrimoires of the Loa. We had a small section here on the occult. You’d think it would be larger, but I’d squirreled away a lot of books to my room over the years. I moved the tome to the table, laying it atop a thin, worn book with yellowed cloth covers calledPapa Legba’s Ledgers for Bones and Drums.“Are these from our stock?”
I didn’t recall seeing them before, but Grandpa did like to visit flea markets and auctions for rare books. Maybe he’d picked them up on the sly.
“No, child, these are mine. I had a friend stop at my home and bring them over a little while ago.” She studied me closely, dark eyes seeing all it seemed. “Your eyes are tired. Perhaps you should go back and snuggle with your man. See if you can drift off.”
I shook my head gently. “He’s too restless. And my head is full. I need to know what it was I saw last night.”
She removed her glasses, rubbed her temples, and then placed them back on her nose. “We’re of the same mind then.” She turned a bit, the sofa squeaking, and took my hand between hers. Her touch was warm and tender. “Speak to me of what you saw. Tell me all. Do not leave out a single detail.”
Seated there under the stairs, I retold the night’s events out loud. Monique didn’t interrupt once. She held my hands tightly when I got to the rough parts but let me tell the tale in my own way and time. When I ran out of steam, she nodded, her lips flat as paper.
“And you’re sure it wasn’t a poltergeist?” she asked as Reggie settled himself on the back of the sofa, pretending to buff his nails but obviously listening in. Monique caught my eyes darting to the right. “Is the marquis here?”
“Yeah, sitting behind you being a brazen eavesdropper,” I said and got a flip of an elegant hand from Reg.
“I wish I could speak with him. He seems to be the most devoted spirit I’ve ever been told of who wasn’t a parent.” She gave me a tiny wink. “Kind of like that dog inPeter and Wendy. The one who played the role of a nanny.”
I couldn’t help it. I had to chuckle.
Reggie literally gasped. If he had been wearing pearls instead of that gorget, he would have clasped them. “I haveneverin all my centuries been so miscast and misaligned,” he fired back. “My good lady, I amfarfrom a dog pushing a pram! I am a member of the peerage, an army officer, and, may I add, the only male in my familial line that was ripe to take over my father’s seat in the House of Lords. Also, I am a fine equestrian, a marvelous fencer, and a man who was always being sought after for my elegant form when dancing the allemande! If you wish to continue casting these cock-a-hoop slurs about me and my masculinity, I shall be forced to call out your brother, or other male relative, to salvage the slander being brought forth on the Birkenhead name!”
“Ooh, I can feel the cold coming off him. Is he mad?” Monique asked. I nodded. “Tell him I’m only teasing. I’m sure he’s a valiant friend of the family.”
I glanced at Reggie. No need to repeat what she had said as he was sitting a foot from her.
