Dark Obsession

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Smashwords Edition

Dark Obsession

The Ella Reynolds Series

Book Three

Copyright © 2015 by Liz Schulte

Editing by Ev Bishop

Cover design by Karri Klawiter

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

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About the Author

Chapter 1

Ella, sweetheart, you’re driving twenty miles per hour. Gabriel’s calm voice was as patient as ever beside me.

I glanced past my white knuckled hands. The needle of the speedometer did indeed hover near twenty. Yeah, so?

I had been stalked, taken prisoner by someone who wanted to skin and stuff me—literally—yet driving was still the scariest thing I’d ever done. A flick of my wrist or a poorly timed sneeze could kill us both. I was never going to get used to it. I eased my foot off the gas pedal, worried he saw something I didn’t.

His jaw tightened. Red seeped through the white towel he had pressed to his leg, making my heart thunder. I’ll bleed to death before you get me to the hospital.

I hit the brake, lurching us to a stop a car length before the stop sign, then inched up to it. My hands were still shaking from the incident at the house. Gabriel had been stabbed and with my past experiences in the house, it hit too close to home. I didn’t mind living with ghosts, but lines had been crossed. Grant and I were going to have words about this—life-challenged or not, you can’t stab people.

Gabriel sighed loudly. I glanced at him. Stop being baby. It’s a scratch. It’s not like you punctured a lung. I laughed too loudly, but he didn’t look amused. Come on, not even a smile? If we can’t laugh about attempts on our lives, what do we have left? I eased off the brake. Maybe you’re accident prone.

I’ve never been accident prone in my life. His words were clipped. Your house… His jaw tightened and he stared out the window. It was one thing to believe that I could see ghosts; it was another thing for him to admit to himself that not only were they there, but…well, they could apparently hurt us.

It wasn’t something I was prepared for either. Everything had been good and quiet at the house—more Casper than Poltergeist. Gabriel moved in and it actually wasn’t terrible. There was a balance or some crap like that. A quiet house, a relationship that didn’t make me want to put my head in the oven, and a career I loved—obviously, I should have seen this coming. When anything in my life started to go well, something always changed to make it worse. Now he was going to leave me or I was going to have to sell my house. Either way change was beating down my door. Just the thought made my head hurt.

I forced teasing into my voice. Are you blaming a ghost? My smile felt like it was stretching my face which couldn’t have been a good thing. I checked my mirrors obsessively. You know, if I had a new case, we could have been investigating something rather than cleaning out rooms and no one would be hurt. Tangentially this could be construed as your fault.

We were in the last room to hold any of Danny’s things—only not from when I knew him. The nursery was a frozen moment in time. His grandparents hadn’t changed a thing since he’d been a boy and used it as a playroom. Toys lay scattered about, as if he stopped in the middle of playing. Crayons and a stack of yellowed paper littered a small table. There was even the odd article of clothing strewn here and there, along with one small, solo tennis shoe. With so many other more urgent demands, Danny and my renovations hadn’t made it that far yet. It wasn’t a room we needed, so we too just shut the door on it. Admittedly creepy it was creepy, but only you thought about it.

Gabriel, however, had ideas about how the room could be used. Bringing us to here and now. One moment we were throwing things away and carrying anything we wanted to keep up to the attic. Then Gabriel joked about turning the room into a haunted attraction and selling tickets. The next moment a shard of wood was sticking out of his leg.

Despite what you believe, El, you’re not a detective. And if I remember accurately, which I do, I’d like to point out that your only two cases both ended with one of us getting hurt. You don’t want to learn to shoot, you refuse to take self-defense classes, and you have a penchant for getting in too deep. You’re a recipe for a disaster. And while it might make me certifiable, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. He shifted. If you want to be an investigator, you have to take your safety seriously and do it right—not half-assed.

"For a non-detective who doesn’t take my cases seriously, I solved two unsolvable murders. I attempted to keep the bite out of my words, but failed miserably. He was in pain. But, still, that was low. I had plenty of flaws but being half-assed" wasn’t one of them. I was more of the all in or not in at all type personality.

This particular argument came up every time I mentioned a crime I read about in the newspaper, like he thought I was about to run and throw myself in the middle of it. Figuring out a crime was like solving a puzzle of lies and deceit—a puzzle with the prize of ridding the world of one more bad guy. It was exhilarating…and one of the best muses I ever had. But…

It’s not a game. Scores don’t matter when you’re the dead body. He grimaced as he pressed the towel harder to his leg. You’re not invincible, El.

Hours later, we were finally home. Watson, my giant teddy bear of a German shepherd, greeted us at the door, tail wagging and a hopeful look on his face. Who wants to go for a walk? I asked, and he leaped into the air and spun in a circle, his body one continuous movement. I grinned and looked up at Gabriel. Your turn.

He glowered. Hilarious.

I laughed. Apparently he had been stabbed right in his sense of humor. Gabriel hobbled into the living room and flopped down on the couch, mumbling to himself. I chuckled the whole way out the door. Living together hadn’t been my idea. In fact our relationship in general hadn’t been my idea, but little by little he’d worn down my walls, which over the years had become quite the fortress. Now, here we were, dare I say, happy?

I shook my head. It was best not to think about it too much. Just the thought of being happy made my stomach twist and knot. Being happy meant one thing: I had something to lose. In my experience when things were going well that was the exact moment everything exploded, leaving only shards of my former life that threatened to bleed me dry.

But, as Gabriel pointed out on multiple occasions, I couldn’t live my life always waiting for everything to go horribly wrong. Yes, bad things happened—and that was why I had to enjoy the good while it was there. And while I wasn’t successful every day, I was trying, which was a lot for me.

My phone rang, startling Watson from doing his business. I sighed and answered without looking. Not a good time, Fagan.

He laughed, unfazed. My caller ID is blocked. How’d you know it was me?

I rolled my eyes. I’m psychic. Considering how many friends I had, the odds were always good it was him.

Sure you are. So what are you up to right now? You busy?

Not at the moment.

Good. I have a proposition. You interested?

If I told you once, I told you a hundred times. I’ll never be interested in you. You have to stop proposing. It’s just getting embarrassing—mostly for you.

Ella, you made a joke. I’m so proud.

What do you want? If this is about another political fundraiser? Get re-elected on your own.

Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson about taking you to social events. Last time you broke my toe. No, it’s work related. I have a job for you. I could hear the smile in his words.

I laughed. Perhaps you have forgotten that you deserved the fractured toe. Also, I already have a job which keeps me in the solitary, sunless life I’m accustomed to. What do you really want?

Who do you think you’re talking to? You’re bored and itching for another case. I know it. I’ve been keeping my eye open for you and I found one that screams Ella.

My eyes narrowed as I stared hard at the ground. Fagan was my friend, but he was also about as enthusiastic as Gabriel was when it came to me investigating anything. This whole proposition reeked of a setup. You have a whole department of actual police officers who are forced to obey you.

This one is different…and not in my jurisdiction. You interested?

Maybe. Why are you involved?

It’s a favor for friend.

What friend? What’s the catch?

Ella, I’m busy. Yes or no.

I could be interested, depending on what it is.

Great. See you tonight. He hung up and I frowned at my phone, with the distinct impression I should have said no.

****

I peeked in at Gabriel when Watson and I came back inside. His eyes were closed and his chest moved up and down in slow even breaths. He hadn’t almost died or anything quite so dramatic, but his injury still reminded me exactly how fragile my existence was. One slip, one wrong turn and everything could disappear again. When my husband died, I nearly lost my mind. I couldn’t go through that again. Not ever. I went to the kitchen, my eyes lingering on the one particular wall that would always haunt me. I dragged my gaze away and went to the sink to fill the kettle.

I didn’t mind living with a few ghosts and weird experiences, that I could handle. What I couldn’t handle was those experiences escalating and becoming violent. Grant, I hissed.

He didn’t come.

I sighed. He wasn’t my only option. A while back I consulted with a more experienced medium—or at least that was what she claimed to be—who gave me some advice about residual hauntings. If Grant wasn’t going to be helping maybe Emma Kardec would have a better idea of what I should do to protect us.

I chewed on my lip while I waited for the water to boil, but a voice in the back of my mind scoffed at tea. It was just a bad day. I didn’t need a drink. I could handle this. I glanced over at the door of the wine cellar. I had more than just wine down there. Somewhere in the dusty room was a perfectly nice bottle of vodka, which would calm my nerves so much better than a cup of tea. My thumbnail traced my bottom lip as I considered my options.

It’s not worth it, Grant said behind me.

I didn’t bother to look at him. You read minds now? The fact that I was even considering drinking was pretty much his fault. Has he not drudged up all these feelings that I rather expertly avoided, I wouldn’t be feeling like my lungs were about to collapse and that my heart was escaping from my chest.

Grant, a distant relative of my late husband, was still the only ghost I could see in the house, which was probably a blessing. Outside of the house I could see plenty of other ghosts, but in here was Grant’s territory. Therefore, if something ghostly attacked Gabriel, he had to be behind it in some way. I can’t believe you. How can you talk to me like nothing happened? When he didn’t respond I spun around to face him. One more incident like this and I’ll call a priest to exorcise your ass. Or maybe I’ll do it myself.

His eyebrows pulled together as he leaned down and rested his elbows on the counter. He looked as real as any other person to me, not at all like someone who’d been dead for over a hundred years. What is it that I’ve supposedly done?

Gabriel’s leg, I hissed. Did you think I would just laugh it off? Because I’m not. That crossed a big line.

He shook his head. I haven’t a clue what you are talking about. Perhaps you should make yourself some tea.

If I could have strangled him, I would have. Go look for yourself. Maybe it will refresh your memory. Gabriel and I were cleaning out the nursery. A piece of wood flew across the room and impaled itself in his leg.

There you have it. He grinned. The wood did it.

I folded my arms over my chest. I’m not amused.

He shrugged. Some days your sense of humor is lacking. I’ve come to like that about you.

I mentally counted to ten before I spoke. Just tell me why? Give me a reason.

He took a deep breath and straightened to a full standing position. I did not harm Gabriel. As I’ve said before, he seems like a good sort. Alas, I am not the only spirit in this house and the number only grows. Perhaps one of the others is not so accepting.

I gave him a level look. I haven’t seen a single other ghost here. If there are really so many others, why can’t I see them?

It takes a certain amount of energy to manifest as a ghost—

And hurtling a chunk of wood across the room, doesn’t?

He cleared his throat. As I was saying, it also requires the desire to be seen. He paused for dramatic effect. Not every spirit wishes to get to know you, Ella. And not every spirit is so happy to see you move on. Anger and resentment can create a powerful lot of energy. As we are part of this house, so are you now. You have accepted us in a more meaningful way than Most of the living do. You have become a beacon for those who are lost. There is only so much I can do to help you. Tread lightly. The others may see Gabriel pulling you away from… He splayed his hands. Us.

My stomach lurched into my throat as if I had fallen off a skyscraper. Who exactly is ‘us’?

That’s not important. What is important is I am not the only one here. He gave me a meaningful look. Others have died here and others have traveled here to be near you. The number grows.

Are you saying… I could barely squeeze the words out. Speaking them was like tearing pieces of my own flesh. Are you saying that Danny is here?

He blinked. I said nothing of the sort. I merely suggested that even as perceptive as you are, there is still a world that you cannot see nor can you comprehend it. He watched me carefully. I assure you, I did not harm Gabriel, but I am also not alone in my interest in you.

I nodded. Maybe Grant was just blaming it on other people, but I trusted him. However, none of this solved the problem. Who hurt Gabriel and why? Okay, let’s say I believe you. That still leaves me with something else in the house doing it. If I have to choose between Gabriel or living in this house, I don’t think you—not any of you—will care for my decision.

My words shocked me more than they did him. Not because they were untrue, but because I said them out loud.

I understand your position. Grant sighed. But they know who you are now. Moving at this point might not be enough. It might be too late.

Too late for what?

He shook his head. I’ll see what I can determine from this side. Try to avoid any more snide comments about the afterlife. No one wants to be a sideshow, living or dead.

The kettle whistled behind me. I jumped and switched off the burner. If Grant hadn’t known what had happened to Gabriel, how did he know the comment that set it off? That son of a—I flipped back around, but he was gone. You lied, I said to the air, knowing he was still listening. Grant was always listening.

I tapped my fingers on the counter as I stared at the spot he’d stood, but he didn’t come back. I’d give Grant a chance to come up with a solution. If he couldn’t, Emma was only a phone call away.

The first and primary rule of living in my house: the ghosts don’t have a sense of humor…at least not when it comes to changing their surroundings.

Chapter 2

I sat plates and silverware on the table with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Gabriel slipped his arms around my waist, making my breath catch, but I didn’t jump. My first instinct wasn’t intruder alert anymore. I leaned back into him for just a moment. I wasn’t ready to talk to him about my conversation with Grant, hell I still didn’t understand it, but no matter what was happening, with him I didn’t feel alone. And that was a big deal to me.

Something smells wonderful. His whiskers scraped my neck as his warm lips pressed against my rapid pulse. Did I scare you?

You could make some noise next time. If the house really did have it in for Gabriel, was I really prepared to leave it for him? It was the last link I had to my husband. The piece of who I used to be.

He kissed my temple and hugged me tighter. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.

I turned in his arms for better access. How’s the leg?

I’ll live. His warm brown eyes met mine and I fought off the urge to press my hands to his cheeks and make him swear that was true. His dark hair was mussed from sleeping on the couch, and I could see the paths where he’d run his fingers through it. The slight peppering of gray at his temples and in the stubble across his strong jaw only made him hotter. It really wasn’t fair.

What’s for dinner? he asked, interrupting my inspection.

Mushroom stuffed chicken and asparagus gratin with a sponge cake for dessert.

His forehead creased. That’s…elaborate.

Well, I figured you’ve had a rough day. Or that I would distract him with food and we wouldn’t have to talk about what happened to him or that Fagan was trying to give me a case.

His head leaned back ever so slightly as if he knew exactly what I was hiding. There’s something we need to talk about, he said.

The doorbell rang. "Oops, can it