Ghost of Himself Read online

  Where he hadn’t been working in years, it was hard for him to believe that old grudges or professional rivalries could be the reason for what was happening to him now. The people he was on his way to see would be able to help him. He was sure of it. Well, not exactly sure himself, but the two spirits that had been visiting him seemed positive that this was the right move for him.

  It had been a big risk booking the flight to Boston’s Logan International Airport under his own name. He might have spent the last two years living in seclusion but he didn’t know anyone who could forge credentials and get him a credit card under an alias. Shit like that only happened in novels and on television.

  He’d never felt more exposed than he had when he was at the airport in New Orleans waiting for his Boston-bound flight to board. Now that he was on the ground in Massachusetts and in an uber driving north to Salem, his anxiety had eased slightly.

  What hadn’t eased were his physical symptoms. Copeland was feeling worse than ever. Every joint in his body was on fire and his head ached so badly that he was waiting for it to split open. One name kept repeating over and over again in his mind, like a record album that was skipping. Jude Byrne. He had to get to Jude Byrne.

  Before today Copeland had never heard of this man. He was in too much agony to pull out his phone and Google the name. He could only hope he wasn’t a serial killer or worse. Although what was worse than a serial killer, he couldn’t rightly say at the moment. He hoped this Byrne character wasn’t the man who was psychically attacking him. Cope didn’t think that was the case, but with the way his brain was aching, anything was possible.

  “Here we are pal,” the uber driver said. His Boston accent was so thick, Cope almost couldn’t understand what he was saying.

  The car had stopped and the driver was getting out in the pouring rain, so they must have arrived at the address in Salem that Cope had given him when he’d been picked up back in Boston. He climbed out of the vehicle, slipping on the wet brick sidewalk before making his way to the back where his luggage and the driver were waiting for him.

  Digging cash out of his wallet, he handed it over to the man. “Thanks for driving me up here.”

  “Are you gonna be all right?” The driver sounded concerned.

  Cope managed to nod. “This is my friend’s house. I’ll be fine now.” He turned to the row house. The large picture window was illuminated. It looked warm and cozy. Cope was getting a good vibe just from standing on the sidewalk in front of the place.

  Tugging his two suitcases behind him, he was about to mount the stairs when a pain like he’d never felt rocketed through his skull. Cope collapsed to his knees. That was going to leave a mark come morning. He remembered hearing that when you were having an aneurysm it was the worst headache you ever had of your entire life. This sure as hell qualified as that very thing.

  Crawling up the stairs one at a time, Cope managed to rear up on his knees to ring the doorbell. What a way to introduce himself, half dead and on his knees. There was a joke here somewhere, but he’d be damned if he could sort out the punchline.

  The door opened and a man knelt down in front of him, pushing his soaked hair out of his face just as a flash of lightning lit up the night sky.

  “Jesus, Copeland Forbes!” Tennyson Grimm muttered. “Ronan! I need your help!”

  “Jude Byrne,” Copeland whispered, feeling like he was about to lose consciousness. He could barely keep his eyes open. These were the most important words he might ever speak and he needed to get them out. “I need Jude Byrne. He’s the only man who can save me.” With that, the psychic passed out in Tennyson’s arms.

  2

  Jude

  Jude Byrne had been sitting in psychic Tennyson Grimm’s kitchen ready to spill his guts about a particular sixth sense of his own when the doorbell rang. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell the psychic about his talent for a few months now, but the time never seemed right. It looked like the time wasn’t right now, either.

  He was getting up to rummage around in the fridge for a drink when he heard Tennyson shouting for Ronan. A weird bolt of awareness shot through his body unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Jude had always had what he considered above average intuition but this feeling went beyond that.

  There was something that made him come to Ronan and Ten’s house tonight, out of the blue. An urge that told him he needed to shut off the television, put on his raincoat and get his ass out the door. Now! He’d had inklings before. Maybe a little voice in the back of his mind that told him to take a different road home or to duck at a certain moment. Those little inklings had always proven true, but this need to drop everything and come over here had been nearly overwhelming.

  Jude was getting that feeling again now. He was needed at the front door. Abandoning his desire for a soda, Jude ran into the living room. He saw Tennyson and Ronan trying to wrangle something into the house.

  “Jesus, Jude. Come help me!” Ronan O’Mara called out. Ronan was Tennyson’s husband and a detective in Boston Police Department’s Cold Case Unit.

  Tennyson hopped out of the way so that the bigger Jude could maneuver in the small entryway.

  “Who the hell is this?” Jude asked, once he and Ronan managed to pull the wet and unconscious man into the house and get the door shut against the raging thunderstorm.

  “His name is Copeland Forbes. He’s a psychic from New Orleans…” Ten trailed off, his mouth hanging open as if he just remembered something important. The look he shot his husband said as much.

  Ronan stared at him for a minute. “Ten, I appreciate your flair for the dramatic, but I have no idea what clue you’re trying to drop here. I don’t know who this guy is or why New Orleans is supposed to mean something to me. What we need to do is get him out of these wet clothes and warmed up before he catches his death.”

  “Don’t you remember Bertha Craig talking about someone she was taking care of in NOLA?” Ten asked.

  Understanding dawned in Ronan’s eyes. He looked up at Jude, but didn’t say a word.

  “Jesus Christ, you two. You know I hate that shit when you say something without saying anything.” There were days when the connection between Ten and Ronan was so cute, he wanted to throw up. All over them. Then there were days like this when they could communicate without words. Those were the days he felt something else closer to jealousy. Not that he’d ever use that word.

  “Ronan’s right. We need to get him undressed and warmed up. We can talk about the rest of this later. I’ll run upstairs and get some dry clothes. Copeland looks closer to my size than to yours. Why don’t the two of you undress him?” Ten scooted off toward the stairs.

  Jude knelt down on the floor beside the unconscious man. He went to work taking off his sodden shoes and socks, while Ronan went to work unbuttoning his shirt. “Wait! Tennyson said he came from New Orleans. Doesn’t he have any luggage?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you check outside?” Ronan was wrestling with trying to get the man’s left arm out of his shirt sleeve.

  “Yeah.” Jude got off the floor. “Ten! Grab some clothes for me too!” he shouted up the stairs. Jude shrugged into his raincoat and headed outside. He made his way down the stairs and saw two suitcases sitting on the sidewalk. He picked up the first one and it felt like it weighed a ton. What the hell was in this, bricks? He hauled it up the stairs and set it in the hallway before returning to the sidewalk for the second bag. It was much lighter.

  “I left a towel and dry clothes in the downstairs bathroom for you. Why don’t you go warm up? We’ve got it here.” Ten was down on the floor, holding Copeland on his side while Ronan peeled his shirt off.

  Jude had a feeling there was something going on between Ten and Ronan, but he was willing to let it go. For the moment. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to want answers later. As he walked through the living room and into the kitchen, he searched his mind for any mention of Copeland Forbes’ name. Nothing was coming to him.

/>   He vaguely remembered something about New Orleans though. Some whispered bit of conversation when they were on the cruise in Bermuda. Something that was hushed up the minute he got close enough to overhear something worth listening to.

  Jude loved Ten and Ronan like the brothers he never had, but sometimes they had this way of babying him that pissed him off to the nth degree. They had this attitude like they were keeping this or that from him because it was for his own good. He’d been on his own since he was eighteen years old. He could damn well judge what was and wasn’t in his own best interests.

  Quickly shucking out of his own clothes, he threw them in the dryer before using the towel Ten left to rub over his short, dark hair. He quickly shrugged into Ronan’s worn David Ortiz shirt and navy sweats before padding back out into the kitchen. He took a few deep breaths so he wasn’t in danger of losing his shit in front of Copeland Forbes. For whatever reason, he knew keeping calm was important.

  When he walked into the living room, the stranger was still unconscious, but was lying on the couch and was bundled up in a heavy blanket. The central air conditioning was on in the house, but it wasn’t that chilly. Jude walked right past Ten and Ronan. He set a hand on the side of Copeland’s face. It was ice cold.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jude whispered. Yes, it was raining outside, but the temperature was still in the 70s. There was no way that Copeland should be this cold. Closing his eyes, Jude set his other hand on the man’s shoulder and let his energy flow between them. Jude absorbed his cold and let his heat flow into Copeland.

  As the minutes ticked by, he started assessing the rest of Copeland’s body. Headache. Joint pain. Anxiety. All over sense of foreboding. Near crippling fatigue. This wasn’t good. His eyes popped open, but his hands stayed where they were. “Ten, we need to call Dempsey McMillan. Now.”

  A gentle smile curved Tennyson’s lips. He shot Ronan another one of those looks where they had an entire conversation without ever saying a word. “Why do we need Dempsey?”

  Jude knew he needed to hold on to his temper now more than ever. He was connected to Copeland. Any emotions he felt were going to flow right into the other man. He took a deep breath. “In the kitchen before the doorbell rang, I was about to tell you something about myself that I’ve never shared with anyone before.”

  “Does it have to do with your why your hands are on Copeland and why his color all of a sudden looks better?” Ten asked.

  Jude nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, but we need to get Dempsey here as soon as possible. Copeland needs his help.”

  Dempsey McMillan was a wizard Tennyson had brought in to help with Hunter Conroy’s situation a few months back. Hunter had been cursed by a warlock and it had been Dempsey who’d been able to find the right spell that had freed him. The wizard had liked Salem so much that he’d decided to stick around.

  “That’s funny, that’s exactly what Copeland said about you.” Ten pulled his phone out of his pocket and started tapping the touch screen.

  What the hell was Tennyson talking about, that’s what Copeland said about him? Jude looked up at Tennyson. He opened his mouth to say something when Ten held up a finger. He moved off into the kitchen to talk to Dempsey.

  Not wanting to deal with Ronan at the moment, he turned his attention back to Copeland. He’d gotten most of his color back, and even though he wasn’t a doctor, Jude was pretty certain Copeland was about to come around from his swoon any second now.

  As if he’d read Jude’s mind, Copeland’s eyelids started to flutter. When they popped open, Jude found himself staring into the most amazing blue eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

  “I knew you’d save me,” Copeland whispered. A smile ghosted across his lips. It was there and gone in a heartbeat. “It’s not over yet.”

  Jude’s jaw tightened against the icy fist squeezing his heart. He had no idea who Copeland Forbes was or why he’d come all the way to Boston to find him. What he did know was that he’d do anything necessary to keep this man safe.

  3

  Copeland

  Jude Byrne’s eyes were on fire. How was that possible? They were swirling orbs of clashing hazel and amber and they were ablaze. Maybe Cope had a fever. That must be it. The last thing he remembered was being outside in the rain and ringing Tennyson Grimm’s doorbell. He thought he said Jude’s name, but that could have been a dream or a hallucination.

  What wasn’t a dream were the golden eyes locked with his own and the almost too warm hands on his body. He would almost swear he could feel a current of energy flowing from Jude into himself. Something or someone told him to find Jude Byrne for a reason, was this it?

  “Dempsey is on his way, Jude,” a man said as he walked toward the couch. As he drew closer, Cope realized it was Tennyson Grimm.

  “Sorry for dropping in like that. I would have called first, but I couldn’t risk anyone knowing where I am.” Tennyson exchanged a look with the other man in the room. Ronan O’Mara, Cope’s gift told him. Ronan was a police detective of some sort or another. What kind didn’t really matter at the moment. What did matter was that he was safe. “I don’t mean to be rude here, but who is Dempsey?” His gift wasn’t offering any clues about this man who was on his way here, apparently at Jude’s request.

  “It seems like there are quite a few explanations that need to be told tonight. I’m Ronan O’Mara. Dempsey is a friend of ours. He’s a…Well, let’s just say he has special gifts.” He offered his hand to Copeland. “You obviously know my husband, Tennyson. Can you tell us how? You don’t exactly sound like you’re from around here with that accent.”

  “Do you want to save your explanation of things until Dempsey gets here and you’ve had something to drink? He’s only coming from across town.” Jude hadn’t taken his eyes off Copeland.

  Cope didn’t miss the annoyed look that flashed across Ronan’s face. Reading the other man quickly he got a brotherly vibe coming from Ronan toward Jude. Cope didn’t know why, but that pleased him more than it should. “I’d like some water, please.” For whatever reason, he wanted to be on Jude’s side even though he was probably wearing Ronan’s clothes and resting on Ronan’s sofa.

  “We’ll be right back.” Tennyson gave Ronan’s arm a yank and they disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I have a hundred questions for you.” Jude narrowed his eyes assessing Copeland.

  “Weren’t you the one who said I should wait for this Dempsey character so I didn’t have to tell my story twice.” Cope could feel the bone-weary fatigue starting to set in again. He hoped that friend of Jude’s got there soon. He didn’t think he was going to be able to stay awake much longer.

  “We’ll wait for Dempsey like I said, but I’m letting you know we have a lot to talk about.”

  Cope could see how serious Jude was. He was about to tell him that very thing when the doorbell rang. He jumped a mile.

  One of Jude’s dark eyebrows lifted in curiosity.

  “That must be Dempsey,” Tennyson called out. He ran in from the kitchen.

  “Check first before you open the door, Ten.” Jude cautioned.

  Ten paused by the entrance to the breezeway, but did as Jude asked. “It’s Dempsey.” He yanked the door open and let him in.

  “Hey, everyone. Shit, it’s raining so hard out there, I swear I saw people building an…Oh!” Dempsey gasped when he caught sight of who was lying on the sofa. “Is that Copeland Forbes?”

  Cope struggled to sit up. He didn’t recognize the young man with the icy blue eyes and dark hair at all. His run-in with Deacon Boudreaux happened two years ago. He supposed it was possible some people remembered him from his picture being plastered all over the news. Jude didn’t seem to recognize him. He was trying not to be disappointed by that. “I’m sorry I don’t know who you are.”

  “Dempsey McMillan. I’m a friend of Tennyson’s and a wizard. That’s how I know who you are. Your spell casting classes in New Orleans were the stuff of legend. I wanted to sign
up for one, but then you went underground…” Dempsey stopped talking.

  “Underground?” Jude’s voice turned cold.

  “Down, Jude.” Ronan grabbed his arm and pulled him off the sofa. “Why don’t we let Copeland tell us how he ended up here looking for you. Then I want you to tell us why you insisted Dempsey come out in this weather.”

  Jude yanked his arm out of Ronan’s grip. “I need Dempsey to put up protection wards on the house.”

  “There are protections spells on this house.” Tennyson sounded offended.

  “To protect against the living or the dead?” Jude’s voice was urgent. Like there wasn’t a moment to waste.

  “The dead.” Tennyson sounded confused. “What’s going on, Jude?”

  Jude ignored Tennyson. “Dempsey, now. We need protection wards set up on the house and on Copeland. Also, do you have anything that will mask him so that no one can find him or be able to track his psychic signature?”

  “His psychic signature?” Ronan sounded like he thought Jude had gone off the deep end.

  “Yes, Ronan. It’s like GPS tracking for psychics. If someone is powerful enough, they can lock onto Copeland’s frequency, for lack of a better term, and hunt him down.”

  “I can do both things, Jude. I’ll start right away.” He headed toward the front door. “Since you seem hip-deep in the middle of this thing, do you want anything for yourself? I know how you feel about witchcraft, but…” Dempsey trailed off.

  Well this was an interesting turn of events. Copeland was learning oodles about his new friends simply by sitting back and watching them interact with each other. Ronan and Tennyson thought Jude had lost his fool mind and Jude hated witches. He couldn’t help wondering what the fiery-eyed man was going to say when Cope told him he was a fifth-generation legacy witch himself.