Page 19 of Demon Loved (The Witches of Mingus Mountain #5)

Belshegar could tell Brianna was suffering something of an attack of the nerves, so after lunch — which had been excellent, very different from the other red meat he’d eaten and something he thought his system could manage a bit better — he thought perhaps it would be a good idea to walk around Jerome and have the music as a backdrop to their afternoon, rather than standing right at the stage to listen.

If they’d done that, he guessed she might have started imagining herself on that stage and begun to worry again that her performance wouldn’t measure up.

No chance of that happening, of course. He’d been taken aback when she asked him what kind of music he liked, but then he’d remembered how Elena had often played classical guitar in the background when she painted or drew.

Although he knew very little about it, he also realized how soothing that sort of music could be, so that was the answer he’d given Brianna.

She seemed to have been content with his reply, and to his relief, hadn’t asked him about his favorite musicians or pieces.

Those were questions that would have been much more difficult to answer, mostly because Elena had never talked much about the music she listened to, and instead had simply been happy to have it going in the background so she wouldn’t have to work in dead silence.

And although he knew that Bree must be just as familiar with the shops in Jerome as she was with the offerings on its various restaurant menus, she hadn’t seemed at all bored by the way he wanted to look at a kaleidoscope composed entirely of semiprecious stones, or how he surveyed the various minerals in another shop, deciding in the end on a chunk of something the label said was black tourmaline.

He wasn’t quite sure why he’d been drawn to the stone, only that it had felt comforting in his hand.

As they left the shop, she asked with a grin, “Trying to ward off evil spirits?”

His fingers touched the chunk of stone, which now resided in his jeans pocket. “Is that what it’s meant for?”

She slipped her sunglasses on her nose. Although he hated to have her beautiful eyes obscured, the sun was quite fierce today, so Belshegar could see why she would want to protect them.

“That’s the story,” she said. “Actually, I guess it’s more than a story, because there’s more evidence out there than you might think that some crystals really do have the qualities they’re rumored to possess.

Black tourmaline is all about warding off or maybe even absorbing negative energy.

” A pause, and then she looked up at him, her eyes a flash of blue behind the dark glasses.

“Put that under your pillow, and you probably won’t have to worry about ghosts. ”

He hadn’t been precisely worrying about them, but he could see why it might be good to know that the first fellow who’d appeared in his room — the gaunt man who’d been visibly annoyed when the person he was trying to haunt hadn’t been frightened at all — would be chased away by the energies emanating from the black crystal.

Or perhaps it would also prevent the voice from getting too close or spying on his activities here.

No, that was the wrong way to look at the situation, wasn’t it? The voice wasn’t a negative form of energy, was only a member of a council that made sure the beings on the upper planes didn’t abuse their powers.

And yet….

Something about the entire situation was beginning to feel wrong in a way he couldn’t quite quantify.

If the voice knew where the artifacts were being held, why hadn’t he or the other members of the Council swooped in to collect them?

Surely their powers must be much greater than those of the McAllister prima, even though Belshegar supposed she must be a very strong witch in her own right.

Perhaps he’d been too na?ve, too trusting. Some people might have thought it odd to apply those adjectives to a being who’d existed for millennia, but Belshegar had had very few dealings with other sentient creatures.

Not until Elena had summoned him that one night, and he’d realized he could offer her some comfort in his own odd way.

All he knew was that everyone he’d met in Santa Fe had appeared to be kind — even Alessandro, who’d wrestled with his own demons at first but had eventually opened his heart to Elena.

And everyone here in Jerome had been friendly as well. Yes, including the fair-haired man who Belshegar now knew for certain had been Brianna’s father, a man who wasn’t exactly a man at all.

Why her powers weren’t nearly as strong as her father’s, he couldn’t begin to guess.

Just the idea that a being from another plane could have a life here, could presumably have a wife…

could have children…had made all sorts of ideas begin to spring up in Belshegar’s mind like wildflowers after a summer rain.

What if he also could do that very thing?

Because Brianna was now looking at him, clearly expecting an answer to her question, he knew he had to attend to her and not the dazzling possibilities that had begun to present themselves.

“Oh, the ghosts have been quiet the past few days,” he said, forcing a smile. “I have a feeling they wanted to meet the newcomer, but since they didn’t get a rise out of me, I suppose they moved on to people who are easier to frighten.”

He was proud of himself for using the colloquialism; he’d overheard a man saying that very thing in the bar at the Grand Hotel just the night before, and had gone to his phone to look up the phrase to see what it meant.

To be sure, he also learned a great many other things from the website he visited, a place called The Urban Dictionary, some of which he thought he could have done without.

But Brianna returned his smile, which meant what he’d said had sounded completely normal to her.

“Ghosts can be tricky,” she said. “I suppose they like being whimsical. I mean, if you’re not bound to an earthly existence anymore, you might as well have your fun where you can, right?”

That was one way of looking at it. Of course, by their very natures, spirits were bound to this plane, but they could leave whenever they wanted, just as soon as they acknowledged that it was time to move on. Otherwise, they would be trapped here forever.

A chime sounded from the phone he knew she carried in her purse, and some of the humor vanished from her expression.

“That’s my alarm,” she explained after she’d reached inside the bag to turn off the alert and prevent it from continuing to sound.

“I need to head down to the festival and get ready for my set.”

She sounded very calm as she spoke, and yet Belshegar could still see the tension in her neck and the set of her slender shoulders.

“Then let’s go,” he responded at once. The day had gone by so quickly that he was surprised to see it was already past three-thirty. “Do you need me to help you with anything?”

A quick smile, and she said, “Thanks, Bill, but I brought my equipment down to the site earlier today. All I need to do is show up and wait my turn.”

He supposed he should have thought of that. Whoever was running the festival, they seemed to be quite organized.

“But I still appreciate you being there for moral support,” she added, almost as if she’d feared he might continue to wander around the town rather than being there to watch her perform from nearer the stage.

“Of course I’ll be there.”

After giving her that encouragement, he headed toward the street, with her only a pace behind. They had to wait a moment for an opening in traffic so it would be safe to cross, but soon enough, they were on the other side and moving toward the sounds of music drifting up from below.

If possible, the park seemed even more crowded than it had been when they got lunch from the food truck, and Belshegar guessed that quite a few people had arrived late to miss the first rush. However, Brianna threaded her way through the crowd with some ease.

Or possibly people recognized her and stepped out of the way to allow her passage.

Whatever the case, she made it to the roped-off area for the performers quickly enough, where she paused to reach out and give his hand a quick squeeze.

“This is it,” she said. “I’ll come find you in the crowd when I’m done.”

He wished he could pull her close and give her a reassuring hug — perhaps even more than that, although he knew he would rather not share their first kiss in such a public place — but because they hadn’t even gotten to the hugging stage yet, he had to settle for what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“I’ll be sure to be in the front row,” he promised.

A flash of a returning smile, and then she was hurrying into the roped-off area, speaking to the woman who appeared to be guarding the musicians’ instruments and other equipment.

No point in lingering, not when Brianna would be looking for him in the audience. Instead, Belshegar shouldered his way through the crowd as best he could, trying to get as close to the front as possible without actively pushing anyone out of the way.

The person currently performing was a man with reddish-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. His voice was good, but Belshegar only wanted him to be done so he could hear Brianna sing.

That wish was granted, because the man finished his song, said there would be a brief break while the next performer set up, and then left the stage.

The people in the crowd around Belshegar murmured and shifted, but he could tell no one wanted to move too far from their current positions lest they lose their places.

All the same, he was still able to move a bit closer…

and then froze as he sensed a sudden rush of powerful energy, rather like hitting a warm current when swimming in a cold lake.

Standing next to him was the fair-haired man from Paradise Lane.

Brianna’s father.

It seemed the man recognized him at once, because he said, “Checking out some more of the local sights?”