The Fourth Power Page 2

  “Trav?” she whispered. The ghost of her son had never appeared to her, and yet in that instant she saw him mirrored back to her in sun and shadows.

  Heather made a move toward the truck. The light shifted, and she realized it was a young girl in a baseball cap, sitting inside the vehicle, not her son. The girl staring at her through the window appeared to be around ten years old. Her lips moved, but Heather couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  Heather had been warned that bereaved parents sometimes see their children everywhere at first. That it was normal. She never had. She’d searched everywhere for her son, amongst every crowd, in every shadow. With all the ghosts she’d seen in her lifetime, she never saw the only one she needed.

  Heather lifted her hand in greeting and forced herself to keep walking despite the heaviness in her chest. She hadn’t realized Martin had a daughter. She was a cute kid and looked a lot like her father, down to the Edwards Construction hat on her head.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared.”

  Heather turned to see the girl had opened the window to shout at her.

  “I’m fine. I was just startled,” Heather answered.

  The girl started talking to herself as she rolled up the window to continue playing.

  “Finally. Are you going to help me now or what?”

  Heather stiffened as her pest reappeared. She hurried toward her car, digging in the pocket of her overalls for a set of keys.

  “Go away,” Heather whispered. “I can’t help you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” the spirit demanded.

  “Both. I can’t and I won’t,” Heather snapped, finally managing to open her door. As she turned on her engine, she muttered, “Just go away. Not today. Just leave me alone.”

  “Oh, I’ll leave, but you’re totally going to be sorry you treated me like this.”

  The pain behind her eyes lessened as the ghost disappeared. The engine hummed as she sat in the car. She leaned forward to look at Old Anderson House, so named for the Anderson family that had built it in 1883 in the Queen Anne style prevalent in that period. Her favorite part was the small cupola on the top that served as a lookout toward the ocean.

  A knock on her window caused her to jump a little in surprise. Martin lifted his hands to show her he hadn’t meant to startle her. Heather took a deep breath before rolling down her window to apologize.

  “You know, some of the guys say it’s haunted,” Martin said before she could get the words out.

  “What?” Heather frowned in confusion and followed his gaze to the house. “Oh, yeah, no, it’s not.”

  There was sympathy in his smile when he looked at her, and she knew he was trying to put her at ease after her mini-explosion. Little did he know her blow-up had nothing to do with him, or maybe he did but for the wrong reason. She had no idea how much Thomas had just told him.

  “The guys always think the old houses we work on are haunted.” She twirled the ring on her forefinger. She felt the tingling of magic in the heirloom jewelry. Except for the ghosts who occasionally followed her inside, the house had been spirit free. “I think they’re disappointed when nothing supernatural happens.”

  Half of the big, tough men she worked with would pee themselves if they saw a real spirit.

  “Well, it would make sense.” Martin nodded. “A place like this has seen its share of secrets. There’s a lot of history here. I feel privileged to be working on it.”

  She liked that about him. Martin respected the properties and their pasts. When he smiled, the look became infectious, and she found herself returning the expression.

  “Maybe you should be paying me to be here, then,” she joked.

  “Not that privileged,” he quickly amended, lifting his head to glance at his daughter in the truck. “I still need the paycheck.”

  “I owe you an apology.” Heather’s smile faded. Even though it had not been directed at him, she said, “I should never have lost my temper.”

  “That’s all right. If anyone is going to yell at me, might as well be a pretty lady.” Martin’s smile went from friendly to charming.

  “It’s not all right but thank you for being so understanding.” Heather rested her hand on the wheel, feeling the vibration of the car through her fingers.

  Martin again leaned up to look at his truck.

  “She’s a beautiful girl,” Heather said. “I didn’t know you had children.”

  “Just the one,” he said. “Jan’s my little tomboy. She’s always getting into some kind of mischief. She keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.”

  “And her mother? Is she—?”

  “No, she’s not.”

  Heather detected the shadow moving across his gaze. She knew that emotion well. “I’m sorry. When did you lose her?”

  Martin’s eyes widened in surprise as she guessed the truth.

  “When Jan—January—was born. We’d been married a few years. There were complications, and I almost lost both of them. Jan’s my miracle baby.” He looked at his hand resting on the door. “I’m sorry. This is probably the last thing you want to be talking about right now. I only came out to make sure you were all right and to tell you I can start on the wiring first thing in the morning if you want me to.”

  Heather nodded. “That’ll be fine. I have an inspector coming tomorrow to look at the plumbing so we can close up the walls. With the way the city has been acting about this place, I don’t want them forcing me to open them back up so they can see later.”

  “I’ll stay out of the way,” he said.

  “And I’m glad you told me about your wife. Jan looks like a sweet kid, and I would hate to upset her by asking. Maybe on a different day you could introduce me properly?”

  “Sure thing.” Martin stood and stepped back from the car. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Harrison.”

  “Call me Heather,” Heather corrected. “And you too.”

  Heather put the car into gear and drove away. The little notebook she kept in her back pocket poked her butt and reminded her of the list of things she needed to do. But as she took the winding road overlooking the coast, she found herself drawn to see her friends instead.

  Hopefully Vivien and Lorna would be home. The two were roommates. Lorna worked for Heather at the historic theater she’d inherited from her grandmother, Julia Warrick. Heather knew for a fact Lorna was off today. Vivien set her own work schedule. Whether or not she would be home was anyone’s guess. Since both women had boyfriends, it was possible they would have plans that didn’t include a third—or would it be fifth?—wheel.

  The ache inside Heather grew, and she didn’t want to be alone. All that waited at her house was silence. Lately, that quiet had become unbearable.

  Before she’d thought too deeply about what she was doing, she found herself parked in Vivien’s driveway. Her hands still gripped the wheel as the motor ran, and her foot pressed down hard on the brake. She took a shaky breath, having to will her fingers to un-pry themselves so she could take the car out of gear.

  “Heather?” The window muffled Vivien’s voice. She watched her friend step off of her boyfriend’s front porch. Even in old cargo pants and a worn t-shirt Vivien managed to look beautiful.

  Troy lifted his hand in a small wave. Heather couldn’t return the gesture. She breathed deeper, each intake feeling like smoke choking her lungs.

  Vivien patted Troy on the chest and said something before crossing the lawn to open the passenger side door. She slid into the seat next to her. “You should have come sooner.”

  Vivien met her gaze, studying her. Heather opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  Vivien nodded in understanding. They’d been friends for a long time. At first, Heather had been drawn to the fact that Vivien had also been born with psychic abilities. Whereas Heather was a medium and could see and talk to the dead, Vivien was empathic. With one look, she sensed things about people. The technical term was clairsentient because she felt what other people were f
eeling and understood why they might be feeling that way. She was also claircognizant because she knew if people were telling the truth. Vivien’s ancestors had been carnival workers, just as Heather’s grandmother had been a famous spiritualist performing on the stage.

  Being that same kind of weird in middle and high school had bonded them, but it was more than that. Vivien just got her. Completely. Until they’d met Lorna, there had been no one else who Heather would have called a best friend.

  Vivien slowly nodded. “I felt today was going to be a bad one. I should never have let you be alone today of all days. Not on the anniversary.”

  “He’s gone,” Heather managed, the word coming out in a harsh whisper. Pain rolled through her like a wave. Some days she could manage it. Now she could not. “I miss him so much.”

  Vivien wrapped her arms around Heather and pulled her tight against her. “I know, sweetie. I know. It’s not fair.”

  Heather felt her hair lift from her head with an annoying static charge. She was too sad to care at the moment. Since they’d put on the rings, it happened whenever they touched each other. The jewelry amplified their natural abilities and also allowed them to peek inside each other’s souls with one touch. It went much deeper than Vivien’s empathic tendencies. Heather felt Vivien’s concern as real as if it were her own. And in return, Vivien would feel Heather’s heartache.

  Lorna appeared in the doorway to the home she shared with Vivien and hurried down the driveway to the car. She placed her hand flat on the driver’s side window. The ring on her forefinger clinked against the glass. She jerked the handle, sliding her hand across to the edge of the doorframe to throw it open.

  “What’s happened?” Lorna asked, concerned. “I felt pain hit me like a tidal wave.”

  “Bad day,” Vivien answered.

  Heather concentrated on drawing breath so she wouldn’t pass out. It was all she could manage. If Lorna was feeling her agony from inside the house, it meant their connection was growing beyond touch.

  “That was today?” Lorna frowned. She wasn’t expecting a response to her question and didn’t get one. She slid her arm behind Heather’s back. The flow of emotions between the three of them at the contact intensified. “Viv, help me get her inside.”

  Chapter Three

  The tingle reverberating down her forefinger worked its way into Heather’s tired mind. She’d cried until her mind became numb, and her sinuses were swollen and she couldn’t breathe through her nose. Thankfully, Vivien and Lorna had not needed her to be coherent. Some pain could not be put into words.

  Lorna was a born caretaker. She’d anticipated what Heather might need before Heather realized it herself. Within minutes, Lorna had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and had handed her a box of tissues and a mug of tea. When Heather had exhausted her tears, Lorna helped her to Vivien’s bedroom to rest on the king-sized bed. Vivien had laid beside her as Lorna stroked her hair.

  Heather had fallen asleep surrounded by friends, but even they could not erase the image of her son’s face flashing in the truck window. That startling instant kept replaying in her mind. She’d resisted séancing Trav, and before today had only seen his face in memories and pictures.

  Yes, the ceremony had worked to bring back Lorna and Vivien’s dead husbands so that they both could say goodbye and let go. It wasn’t a matter of if they could do it. It was if they should do it. If her son was in a better place, she did not want to drag him back to the mortal world for her own selfish reasons. There were so many unknowns to the afterlife, and she feared doing more harm than good.

  But that didn’t mean the ache inside her wasn’t real. It was something no parent should ever have to live through. There were days she wished she’d died too.

  “Don’t think that,” Vivien whispered sleepily from behind her. Vivien’s hand rested next to Heather’s back. “None of this was your fault, and your dying would only make the world a terrible place.”

  The mattress shifted, and she felt Vivien moving behind her. Moonlight came through the bedroom window, barely piercing the darkness. By the light she knew the moon wouldn’t be very full. “Thank you for letting me stay. I couldn’t go home.”

  “You shouldn’t have tried to work. I tell you that every year.” Vivien moved her hand over Heather’s arm. “You should move in with us. I feel strongly that it would be good for all of us. Lorna and I would love to have you here. William can help us build another suite onto the house for you to live in.” She shifted behind her only to tease. “Not that I mind spooning with you.”

  Heather’s brother, William, worked as a contractor building houses. If she had her guess, he was currently sleeping in the other room with Lorna. The two had been dating for months. She liked Lorna with William. Her brother had never been in love, at least not like this.

  It wasn’t the first time that Vivien had asked her to move in. Being a social creature by nature, Vivien enjoyed having her friends around her.

  “It could be fun,” Vivien prompted.

  “What if things progress with you and Troy? Maybe you’ll want him to move in here with you,” Heather countered.

  “Maybe. Someday,” Vivien agreed, “but that’s not today. I love Troy. You know I do, but you’re my best friend, my sister. Our bond goes deeper than boyfriends. If Troy loves me, he’ll understand that about me. I think you should really consider moving in with us. It’s not good for you to be alone. Not if you’re feeling like this.”

  “I can’t.” Heather lived in the house she’d been in when her son died. Moving anywhere else felt wrong. She couldn’t shake the feeling of, what if he came home?

  “I wish I knew how to make it better for you,” Vivien said. “It’s not like what happened to Lorna and me. I can feel all the reasons why you don’t want us to séance him back, and they are valid concerns.”

  Heather shook her arm to knock Vivien’s hand away. She didn’t want her to keep reading her emotions.

  Vivien sighed. “You rarely talk about it. Maybe you should.”

  “You know what happened,” Heather dismissed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Her head still ached from crying. “Talking about it doesn’t change things.”

  “Neither does locking it up inside,” Vivien countered. “Heather, you can’t…”

  Heather slowly stood from the bed.

  “It’s not…” Vivien struggled to find the right words. “It’s not healthy for you to…”

  Heather glanced toward the bed but couldn’t see her friend beyond the faint outline of her body in the dark.

  “It’s not my place to tell you how to feel,” Vivien said, sounding resigned. “I love you. Whatever you need. Whenever you need it. For however long.”

  “I know. Thank you.” Heather moved toward the door. “Right now I need to go home.”

  “But it’s in the middle of the night,” Vivien protested. “Stay. I promise I’ll stop pushing.”

  “It’s not you. I have to meet the city inspector early this morning for Anderson House.” Heather felt around on the floor with her feet, looking for her shoes.

  “Can’t that wait?” Vivien asked, not moving from the bed.

  “It’s already waited. It took me two weeks to get this appointment. If I miss it, I’ll have to stop the remodel.” Her foot bumped something, and she reached down to find her boot.

  “I thought you needed inspections after the work was done.” Vivien stretched her arms over her head and slid her body down on the mattress but didn’t get up. She suppressed a yawn. “I still can’t believe you finally own that house. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

  “Yeah, normally the inspections come later, but the city is up my ass about it,” Heather muttered. She shoved her foot into the untied boot and rocked it back and forth until it slid into place.

  “That sounds fun.” Vivien gave a short laugh. “Make sure they buy you dinner first.”

  “They have delayed construction three times already while th
ey research my decisions on the historical property, insisting they are allowed to do that. Only to realize they’d never actually made Anderson House an official historic property, which means I have a small window to advance the work skipping some of their nonsense and delays. If I can get the inspector’s okay on the plumbing job so far, we can close up some walls and prove later when the city finally gets their shit together that I did everything correctly. It’s been—”

  “Though I normally find talk of asses and pipe-laying fascinating, it’s the middle of the night. Turn your brain off and come back to bed,” Vivien said.

  “Sorry,” Heather responded. She liked thinking about work. It meant she wasn’t thinking about other things. “You go back to sleep. I’ll leave you alone.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Stay, at least until it’s light outside.” A muffled thump-thump sounded as if Vivien patted the bed. “You can borrow anything you want out of my closet to go meet the inspector. Maybe one of the strapless numbers to ensure you pass.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think Melissa is into me in that way,” Heather answered.

  “You never know.” Vivien gave a tired laugh.

  “I’m fairly certain. She’s married with ten kids. I’d say she’s into her husband.” Heather thought of Anderson House, which made her think of Martin Edwards, which in turn made her think of being at the Victorian in a strapless dress while he worked on the wiring. A tiny shiver of anticipation worked its way over her, and she frowned. It would be too easy to let her thoughts roam to the romantic with him.

  Heather physically shook her body to push away the feelings as she shoved her foot into a second boot.

  “You okay?” Vivien asked.