Page 45 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

“I saw your plant drawings in your recipe book.” I don’t say I flipped through her sketchbook because I don’t think she meant for me to see the drawings of me.

She hums and reaches for the ends of my hair. “I like trying to capture what I see. I think it helped me cope when I was younger. Then, it became a habit. Now it’s a part of me. The plant sketches were part of my training with Grams.”

I hum and drag my hands up her spine. “Did your Grams teach you to be a midwife too?”

Eliana sighs. “She did. I could deliver a baby if someone needed to. But you know how people are here.”

“We only have an emergency clinic here. Don’t most women drive to the hospital over an hour away?”

She shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to be a midwife?”

“I want to heal people, whatever that means. Including helping someone bring a new life into the world and helping them heal from it. Birth is a beautiful thing, but it can be really hard on a mother.”

I nod, wondering if she wants kids.

“You are much kinder than you let on, little witch.”

She slips her lips over her teeth trying to hide her smile. I can’t help myself and lean forward, pecking the corner of her mouth.

“I can see it,” I whisper.

She blinks, and her blue eyes deepen.

“Can I help with one of your crosswords?” she asks.

I point to the book on the coffee table. She looks over her shoulder and starts to get off my lap to get it, but I grip her hips and lean forward, forcing her to lean back so I can grab the book with the pencil in it.

“You made that way more complicated than it needed to be,” she says.

I chuckle. “Not really, I didn’t want you to move.”

She snorts and shakes her head, taking the puzzle book from my hand.

“Twenty-two across, the clue is, jam.”

“How many letters?” I ask her.

“Eight,” she says.

I open my mouth to answer, then something slams against the house, making both of us jump. I almost throw Eliana off my lap, but she grabs my shoulders and squeezes, keeping me there for a breath.

Her eyes glaze over, and I gently push her onto the cushion, and go to the closet to grab my shotgun. Checking her again, her eyes are still glazed, and I know they are talking to her right now.

Leaning the barrel against my shoulder, I peek out the window. It could be anything, stupid teens messing around, someone actually coming for me, or Eliana. Or, I guess it could be the wind.

Unable to see anything, I head for the door to check it out. The dogs are out with the cattle, so they aren’t there to bark a warning. They already ran over here, ate, and then went back to the herd.

“Don’t go outside,” Eliana says.

My hand pauses on the door. “Didn’t you hear that? I need to check it out.”

“Please don’t,” she says.

I frown and look out the window. Then, I faintly hear slow, rhythmic scratches on wood. That’s … odd.

“What the hell,” I mutter and go towards the kitchen where I think it’s coming from and look out the window. Still nothing.

Someone is out there trying to mess with us, and I won’t have it.

Then, so quietly I hear moaning, as if someone is hurt. My blood runs cold, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t go outside. There are things out there you cannot kill with a gun,” Eliana says, almost breathless, like she’s scared but doesn’t want to let it show.

I jerk at her words, confused, and I’ll never admit it, but it sends an icicle of fear down my spine.

“What’s outside Eliana?”

She swallows thickly and finally meets my eyes. “There are things in this world that should not be messed with. Do you understand? You can’t give them an opening because they will take it.”

I look outside again and see something barely within the view of the window. It’s a tall, dark figure, shaped like a human, but then right before my eyes it turns nearly translucent. The moon is so bright I can see the roof of the barn through the figure.

Blinking a few times, the figure moves, and the back of my neck throbs as it turns, and I swear it’s looking at me, begging me to open the door, to go to it.

Then it’s gone. In a blink.

Eliana remains still with her back to the window. But her lips are moving, without words passing through them.

I set the shotgun next to the door and keep checking the windows, while keeping an eye on Eliana.

I’m not sure what’s happening or what to make of it.

Her connection to the veil is a little eerie at the moment, and it makes me wonder if I’m able to see these things because I’ve accepted that this world is full of much more than what we can see.

Pacing between windows, I spot another outline of a ghost, only this time it’s in the shape of a woman. She turns and I nearly trip over my feet.

“Mom?” I rasp.

“It’s not her,” Eliana says.

I glance at Eliana, hands shaking, and every fiber of my being wants to run outside. Maybe I could hug her one more time. Maybe she could tell Dad I’m trying to make him proud.

“They know what you’ve lost, and they’re trying to tempt you. Ignore it.”

“What’s happening, Eliana?” I ask her. I need to understand, or at least try.

“They tell me they don’t know. I believe the reason the ghosts are here is because things are changing. But the Spirits said…” she trails off.

I go back to the sofa, but check over my shoulder again. Nothing is out there for now. I take her hands between mine, and it startles me because they’re so cold.

“What did they say?” I push her.

“They said that your father spoke to you before he died, and now is the time to tell me,” she whispers the last words.

Every muscle in my body goes taught. If I move, they’ll snap.

If I didn’t believe that the Spirits talk to her, I do now. I have never told a soul about what he said. There was no one in the house when he said it. A few people were outside, but I doubt they heard anything. Those words were between my father, myself and God.

“They told me they saw so much darkness coming. They don’t know what, obviously, but they think things will get worse. They said your dad was right.”

My cheeks puff, and resignation chokes my lungs. Part of me hoped that my father wasn’t talking to me, but speaking in general.

I knew better, and this is confirmation.

“What did he say?” she asks.

I take a deep breath trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart.

Fear is a hungry thing, and if I feed it, it will get worse.

“A servant of Satan is lurking in the shadows, and it has come to take everything you know and love. It will steal it in the night, consuming it like a sweet, always hungry for more. It will come for you. It comes for us all, hunting its prey, stalking in the night. Beware. Beware. Beware.”

I peek out the window again, and I don’t see another figure. Maybe they’re gone.

“Is what he said the cause of your nightmares?” she asks.

I look away, unable to answer her. When she moved in, his words plagued my thoughts because I wondered if what he said was coming true. Will she be taken from me?

I glance at her, and she’s listening to the Spirits, nodding her head with a faraway look in her eyes. “And you think they’re connected?” she asks them.

“Why would he have anything to do with this?” Eliana asks them.

“And what does that have to do with me? This is getting more complicated and confusing.” She pauses. “You’re sure?” she asks.

I drag my fingers over her wrist, feeling for her pulse.

She stares at our hands before looking at me. “They told me everything is connected and what your father said was a warning.”

My lips purse, and I squeeze her hand to reassure her or myself, maybe both. “You asked them what that has to do with you. Did they say?”

She swallows thickly. “They said that I’m going to help you shine the light on all of it. That’s all they were given.”

“What does that mean? How are we going to do that if we don’t know how all these things work together?” I ask her.

She huff’s irritated and jumps off the sofa. Her feet pace back and forth, and she grips the roots of her hair, gritting her teeth.

“I don’t know, but I’m so tired,” she says. “I’m so tired.”

I start to reach out for her and drop my hand, unsure of what I can do to make this better. She’s not mine to make better yet, but she is my responsibility. I’ll convince her one way or another.

“Are they talking all at once?” I ask her.

Eliana takes a stuttered breath and nods. “I can’t make out what they’re saying. It could be nothing. But it could be important for us to know.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her palms to her face.

I stand up from the sofa and pull her into a hug. This has been a hard day. A good day and a terrible one.

“Let’s get some sleep,” I tell her.

She buries her head in my chest and sniffles.

“Is it … safe though?” I ask her.

“Don’t listen to them. They might still be out there, but my Grams always tells me, pay them no mind, don’t give them a door to walk through, and they’ll give up eventually.”

“Eventually?” I parrot.

“They’re attracted to the emotionally vulnerable. So it’s probably me,” she whispers.

“Why?” I ask even though I know.

“Because I’m a walking, talking, gaping open wound. I’m easy bait,” she says.

I don’t know what to say other than, that makes sense because it’s probably me too, but I’m sure that won’t help. “Come on,” I tell her and grab the shotgun before tugging her up the stairs. I set the shotgun against the wall and guide her to her room.

She stands next to the bed as I pull the covers back. Eliana crawls under the sheets, and I tuck her in. I cup her cheek and press a kiss on her forehead.

“One day you’re going to heal. I have to believe that because that means I might too. Get some rest,” I tell her, rubbing my thumb over her cheekbone.

She nods, and I leave her room, closing the door behind me.

My hand stays on the knob, and I rest my forehead against her door.

The shock of seeing what I thought was my mother sits heavy on my soul.

I miss her, and it’s been years, but I have to believe it’s possible to heal, to move forward, and I hope that maybe Eliana and I can find a way to do that together.