The Ghostly Shorts: Ghosts, Inc. - The Short Story Anthologies, #2

The Ghosts Inc. Anthology, Vol. 2

The Ghostly Shorts 7-12

By Bethany M. Sefchick

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright  © 2014 Bethany M. Sefchick

All rights reserved

Diamond Girl

Ghostly Short, Vol. 7

Prologue

No means no and that’s final!  Her father’s voice roared through the little apartment on the military base and she cringed, ashamed that others might hear.  Your mother is dead so don’t you dare play that card with me, young lady!  I have made it abundantly clear that you are to never speak of her, or those cursed ‘abilities’ she tried to make you believe you possessed!  Not ever again!  Looming over his daughter, Major Thomas Morgan resembled a thundercloud.

But, Daddy…  Tori tried again, which only earned her another round of her father’s anger.

You are not gifted, Victoria!  So stop that nonsense at once!  His voice was so loud that it shook the windows in their frames and made Tori shiver.  And I will not have you telling others that you are!  You mother was crazy, and I refuse to raise a crazy child as well!  Understood?  His eyes now reduced to slits, he glared at his daughter, rage and something close to disgust glimmering there.  And one more thing.  In this family, I am addressed as ‘Major’ or ‘Sir,’ Victoria.  Only weak children have fathers or daddies!  Do I make myself clear?  There was a level of something dark and dangerous in his eyes that even Tori knew well enough not to cross.

Yes, sir, she replied, meekly, frozen in place.  She’d never seen her father this angry.  All she’d done was bring home the small kitten she’d found under a bench in Hyde Park.  He might have allowed her to keep it.  Had she not mentioned that she’d heard it calling out to her, it’s tiny meows echoing through her mind.  That had been a mistake.  A big one.  One her mother would have made.  Even at her young age, Tori knew better.

Apparently satisfied that his daughter was browbeaten enough, Thomas Morgan turned the remainder of his fury on Mary Turner, Tori’s very proper, very British nanny.  And you!  I hold you responsible for this folly!  First, you allow her to befriend the son of a lecher and a whore!  Now you allow her to run around telling stories about animals talking to her and saying she has magical powers!  If we weren’t leaving for Portugal within a week, I’d fire you today!

Instead of immediately crumbling as Tori had, Mary didn’t back down.  I suggest you mind your tone, Major, and remember that you are on British soil now, not American.  I will not be spoken to in that manner.  That your wife tolerated that behavior until the day she died is not my problem!

With a hiss of anger, Thomas turned away without saying another word, his shoulders tight and his body rigid.  He knew that this woman could cause him a great deal of trouble if she was so inclined.  He stalked out of the room, but the anger he’d vented remained.

When he was finally gone and they were alone once more, Tori blinked away tears as she clutched the nearly forgotten kitten tightly to her chest.  But what will happen to Snowball? she asked Mary, suddenly fearful, more afraid for the cat than for herself.  I don’t want her to die!  In her young life, Tori had learned many hard lessons, including what happened to unwanted pets.  Still, she had thought her father might relent this time.  After all, she was seven years old.  That should be enough to take care of a pet, even though her father insisted that there would never be any pets in the Morgan household.  This was the only thing she had ever asked for, never complaining when they moved every few months or even weeks, ripping her away from friends and school with startling regularity.  All she wanted was one small pet.  Just a cat that she would take care of on her own.  Was that really too much to ask?  She was afraid that it was.

It’s alright, lovey.  I’ll take Snowball home with me.  Mary felt an impotent rage well up within her.  It was one thing to drag this poor, motherless child all over the globe, but to take away her one source of comfort, threaten to kill it, as he had been doing when Mary entered the room, was beyond anything the young woman could comprehend.  She felt a deep well of pity for the little girl rise up in her chest.  This poor child would be lucky if she reached adulthood unscathed.  At the moment, however, at the very least, Mary knew she could take in the cat.  Her parents lived outside the city, and the kitten would enjoy the fresh air of the countryside.  Tori’s rescued pet would live, just not with the little girl.

Slowly, Mary disentangled the kitten’s claws from Tori’s blouse.  I’ll take care of her, Tori, my love.  I promise.  Then she drew Tori into a powerful hug, wishing she could do more for the little girl than simply give a stray cat a home.  "And never mind the rest, love.  Remember, you are special.  You have your mother’s gift running through your veins.  Your father can’t take that from you.  No matter how much he might like to try."

But the rest…  Tori protested, though she wasn’t certain exactly what she was protesting.  Perhaps simply the unfairness of it all.  My friends?  They aren’t bad, are they?

No, they’re not.  Don’t listen to him, Tori, Mary insisted again, knowing that hers might be the last kind touch this child felt for a very long time.  You are special, Tori.  Magical.  Never forget that.

Sniffing, though still trying not to cry and not succeeding, Tori threw her arms around Mary’s neck.  I love you.  And you’re the last person I’ll ever love.  I swear right now that it’s true.

Oh, child, don’t say that, Mary protested, a sense of dread beginning to creep over her.  Perhaps it was too late for Tori after all, though she prayed that wasn’t the case.  You have a lot of love to give.  Remember what I told you.  Don’t’ give up hope.

Shaking her head as she buried her face in her nanny’s neck, Tori finally allowed herself to cry, just a bit, quietly so her father wouldn’t hear.  He’d be even angrier if he knew she was crying.  Love hurts too much.  I don’t want to feel anything any more.

In that moment, Mary’s heart broke more than she had ever thought possible.

Chapter One – Twenty six years later

Victoria Morgan tightened the belt on her trench coat as she strode through Boston’s Beacon Hill neighborhood, the night black beyond the occasional glow of streetlamps.  She’d told the cabbie, who was looking at her rather lecherously, that she’d reached her destination a few blocks back, eager to be out of his cab.  Though it was a lie and it meant she had to walk, she didn’t really mind.  It was better than whatever the man had planned for her.  Just because she couldn’t specifically read his mind didn’t mean that she couldn’t sense his desires, what he wanted most at the moment.  One glimpse into his mind, and the desires shimmering there, just beneath the surface of his polite veneer, and she knew all too well what he was after.  Her body was non-negotiable.  Neither was her life.

Now, the air was bitter and cold on this February night, but she barely felt it.  In fact, she didn’t feel much of anything.  She never did.  Hadn’t for a very long time.  It was part of the reason why she’d earned the nickname, The Diamond Girl.  Hard and remote, unfeeling and uncaring, Victoria’s reputation as a master negotiator was without equal.  

In fact, it was a point of pride that she’d never failed at a negotiation.  That she did it using psychic abilities was her own dirty little secret.  One she’d made certain few people would ever get close enough to her to discover.  Not that anyone really wanted more than a superficial relationship with her anyway.  Why would they?  She was far too frigid, at least according to most people.

It was also why she was here in this upper crust New England neighborhood tonight.  She’d been hired by her old friend, Damian Easton, to do a job for him, one that he wanted done quickly and quietly.  Though Damian, one of her few actual friends, said he didn’t know her secrets to successful negotiation, Victoria had her doubts.  After all, the man worked for Ghosts, Inc., a Pennsylvania-based paranormal investigation agency.  He might not be a psychic himself, but he had access to people who were, including his boss, Mia Thorpe, soon to be Mia Hawthorne, and she was regarded as unparalleled in psychic talent across the globe.  Much like Victoria herself, in some ways.

Tonight, however, that was the least of her worries.  No, tonight, she had to perform what one of her old nannies had termed her mind voodoo on someone she’d known long ago.  It shouldn’t have bothered her.  But it did.  A lot.

Colin Somersby, now the fifteenth Duke of Avelion, had been a classmate of hers when they’d been younger, and she’d been living in England with her father, then a major in the Army.  The duke just happened to own a box that Damian wanted – desperately.  It was Victoria’s job to secure it for him.

Colin had said repeatedly that he had no use for the box, and that Damian could buy it.  For a nominal price of course, but that price needed to be negotiated, though Colin assured them he would be more than reasonable.  Damian, however, hadn’t believed Colin, thinking the other man had some type of ulterior motive, possibly wanting something valuable that Damian possessed in exchange.  So he’d sent his old friend Victoria to negotiate with Colin for the antique.  Damian wouldn’t even tell her why he wanted the box, just that he did.

She shouldn’t have cared, she supposed.  It was, after all, her policy not to get personally involved in negotiations.  It was what she was famous for – that cold, hard, bright, diamond-like exterior that no one could penetrate or even crack.

Except that she did care, deep down inside, anyway.  Despite rumors, Victoria did have a heart and soul.  She had feelings.  Or rather Tori did.  In her mind, she was really two separate, distinct people.  Victoria was the face she showed the world.  But at home at night when she was alone?  Then, she was just Tori.  The little girl who longed for her father’s approval rather than his wrath, and who would have given anything to be able to love someone, just once, and not feel pain.

She was so lost in thought about Colin, Damian, and the box, that Tori almost didn’t hear the small mewling sound that echoed through her mind.  But a part of her, the part of her that still longed for the kitten she’d been denied as a child, heard the pitiful cry.

Stopping, Victoria looked around, her boot heels clicking on the icy sidewalk as she turned in every direction.  Finally, when she was about to give up, she heard it again.  The cry was weak, and she knew that the animal had to be cold, in danger of dying if it didn’t get warm soon.  Following her instincts, she made her way over to a clump of bushes that protruded from behind a sharply pointed wrought-iron fence.  The fence ran the length of the city block and looking up, Victoria could see that she had arrived at Harfield Hall, Colin’s American residence.

Logically, she knew she could simply walk up to the front door and announce that the kitten was trapped in the shrubs and needed help.  But what if Colin was like her father?  What if he wasn’t the same charming boy she remembered?  The one who shared his afternoon tea and cakes with her?  She didn’t believe the rumors that he’d killed his father, of course.  That was absurd.  But maybe he wasn’t as kind as he had once been.  Maybe, like her, life had changed him, made him into someone she wouldn’t recognize.  Even though she hoped that wasn’t the case, she knew she had to be prepared if it was.

Knowing she couldn’t risk the animal’s life, no matter what kind of man Colin might be, she dropped to her haunches, and began calling out to the kitten, hoping to lure it from wherever it was hidden in the bushes.  She also reached out with her mind, trying to find the small spot that was the kitten in a massive blob of other entities.  One of her old nannies, Emelia, a Caribbean voodoo priestess, had claimed that, with training, Tori could harness her abilities, but she’d never bothered.  What she could do naturally was enough.  Anything more would simply prove that her father was right.  She was a crazy freak who needed mental help.  She didn’t want that.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably only minutes, the kitten, black as the night itself, poked its furry head out of the bush, and, on wobbly, weak legs, walked toward Tori in search of warmth.  It had obviously been living outside for quite some time, given how small it was.  It needed help.  The part of her that was still Tori panged with fear.  She had to save this small, helpless creature.  Just like she’d saved Snowball so long ago in Hyde Park.

Scooping up the kitten, Victoria tucked it inside of her coat and then ran down the street, eager to reach the front door, heedless of the icy pavement.  She took a moment to collect herself after taking the wide, stone steps that led to Harfield Hall’s front door two at a time before ringing the bell.  She didn’t want to appear like a wild woman before she asked for a favor the inhabitants of the mansion might not want to grant.  For a moment, she was afraid no one would answer her persistent buzzing of the doorbell, but then, the door swung open to reveal a perfectly pressed and dressed butler.

When he raised an eyebrow at her, she stiffened instinctively and drew herself up to her full height, cloaking herself in her Diamond Girl persona once more, all signs of Tori safely hidden away.  Victoria Morgan to see Colin Somersby, Duke of Avelion.  I have an appointment.  He’s expecting me.  She knew she was being cold, but this was what was expected of her.  Though for once, just this one time, she wouldn’t mind being Tori for a little while.  At least with Colin.

Please.  Come in.  The butler bowed, though his eyes were far from warm.  I am Entworth, Lord Somersby’s butler.  I will let him know you’ve arrived.  He is expecting you.  I’ll have a maid take your coat momentarily.  Then he stood aside and Victoria swept into the great hall as if she owned the place.

She’d learned long ago not to let displays of wealth intimidate her.  Still, there was something about Harfield Hall that unnerved her.  Maybe it was because Colin lived here.  If anyone could see through her façade, it would be him.  Suddenly, she didn’t want that.  She wanted to get in and get out, the public face of The Diamond Girl still intact.

Just as Entworth turned to leave, Victoria remembered the weak kitten she had hidden in her coat.  Much as she wanted to keep it with her, she knew that probably wasn’t wise.  A moment, please, Entworth.  When the man turned back to her, eyebrow raised once more.  I found a small kitten outside in the bushes.  Reaching into her coat, she pulled the shivering mass of black fur out, holding it securely in her hands.  I fear that without proper care, it will die, so I will be taking it home with me when I leave.  But in the meantime, is there someone who might be able to find it something to eat?  She knew she was asking quite a lot, but when she looked at Entworth’s face, she quickly realized she wasn’t asking much at all.

The man’s desire for the kitten’s safety was shimmering on the surface of his mind, the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world at this very moment.  Victoria could read the butler as clearly as anyone she’d ever negotiated with.  Somehow, without knowing it, she’d gained ammunition in the upcoming negotiation.

Swallowing hard, Entworth, gestured for Victoria to follow him.  This way, if you please, Miss Morgan.  Quickly.  I believe you have something Lord Somersby would very much like to see.

Tucking the kitten back into her coat, Victoria nodded, her manner just as regal and proper as the butler’s, a trick she had learned from one of several British nannies she’d had over the years.  Lead the way.

Chapter Two

Colin Somersby was reading the latest corporate financial projections at his desk, a fire blazing in the hearth.  Or at least he was trying to read them.  What he was really doing was looking at the clock, waiting for it to reach seven.  That was when Tori – no Victoria, he silently corrected himself – was to arrive for their meeting.  A meeting over a stupid, silly, bloody box.

Worth nothing, Colin didn’t give a damn about the piece of filigreed, lacquered wood and metal.  He’d have gladly given it to Easton if that’s what the man had wanted.  No, what Colin really cared about was the woman sent to negotiate for it.  He wanted to see if something of his old friend still lurked within the beautiful icy shell of woman she’d become.

When Damian Easton had first approached Colin about selling the box, the duke had been more than willing, ready to hand over the box immediately.  Then, Colin had remembered the gossip magazine article he’d seen, linking Damian and Victoria Morgan as friends.  The magazine had called her cold and brittle, beautiful and dazzling like a diamond, but just as cold.  The reporter had said Victoria had no soul, no emotion.  That she was hard and empty, a shell of a person that no one could ever get close to, let alone love.

Colin found that very difficult to believe.  The girl he remembered was fearful, but caring.  She had friends and liked to laugh and play games.  She’d liked him, been his friend, when few other people were willing to take the chance.  She’d had enough heart to believe in him.

Once good friends, she’d been yanked out of his life by her bastard of a father, not that Colin really blamed the old man, now a Four-Star General.  At least for that, anyway.  For the way he’d treated Tori, however, made her suffer needlessly when all she’d been looking for was love and acceptance?  Then yes, Colin blamed the man to no end.

When they’d been younger, Colin’s father had been a notorious womanizer, not the sort of man someone like Thomas Morgan would want around his impressionable daughter.  His mother, his real mother, had been practically a saint, though she had died when Colin was young.  The stepmother that masqueraded as his mother when he’d known Tori was little better than a tramp.  So on that score, Colin couldn’t fault the older Morgan.

Now, of course, there was Colin’s own dodgy history to consider, though he tried not to think of that.  He knew the rumors weren’t true, as did those who really mattered to him.  He hoped that Tori felt the same, but she might not.  She might very well be the cold, frigid woman the papers wrote about.  But he didn’t want to even consider that possibility.  Instead, he preferred to remember the girl he’d once known, the only other child of their association who knew what it was like to live in a family that despised them.

He’d wanted to see Tori for so long, but hadn’t been quite certain how to go about it.  After all, he’d been accused of murder once.  That didn’t exactly make him Mister Popularity on any continent.  That his stepmother had eventually confessed to the crime made little difference, especially in England.  He was still considered something of a social pariah there, exiled to the United States.  Even now, Colin wasn’t certain if Tori believed the lies that had been spread about him.  Many people still did.  He wouldn’t blame her if she did.  She wouldn’t be the first.  Or the last.

Then Damian, searching for that blasted box, had provided Colin with a perfect excuse to see Tori again.  He had, in a very underhanded way, coerced Damian into sending his friend here to Boston to negotiate for the box.

Not that there was much to negotiate, really.  Colin had no use for the gaudy thing, and, if any of his distant family did, well, getting rid of it would anger them, something that he would enjoy immensely.  The only person he’d consulted with about the box was his grandmother.  Despite her desire to marry him off to the first woman with an available womb so he could produce the next Avelion heir, he did still love the crazy, interfering old woman.  If she had wanted the box, he would have kept it.  But she didn’t, hadn’t even remembered where the family had acquired it.  So there was no problem.

Just as the clock struck seven o’clock sharp, Colin looked up to see the large oak doors to his study sweep open and Entworth appear, his normally unflappable face more than a little agitated.  Behind him, Colin could see a curvy, statuesque woman with the same gorgeous, chestnut hued-hair he remembered from childhood, dark eyes flashing copper fire.  And there, in her hands, meowing pitifully was Cleopatra.  The very kitten he and every member of his household staff had spent the last week trying to capture.

Where did you find her?  Colin was well aware that his voice was probably a bit more breathless than was considered manly, but he didn’t care.  Cleo was back and he would be forever grateful to Tori for that, if nothing else.

Tori was in awe as a man that looked more like a fantasy than a reality crossed the room to stand before her.  He had the same warm brown eyes and thick, wavy brown hair as her childhood friend possessed, but all similarities stopped there.  Instead of a child’s gangly body, Colin was tall and well muscled, filling out his dress shirt quite nicely, which was open at the throat to reveal a tangle of chest hair.  His expensively tailored pants were nearly molded to his muscular thighs and the very sight of him made her blood heat.  He was gorgeous.

He also smelled good, like something spicy and warm.  In fact, she could very easily imagine licking every inch of what she was certain was a magnificent body, just to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.  Suddenly, seeing her old friend naked was a top priority on her list.  Something that was a very, very bad idea.

This wasn’t the reaction she’d wanted.  Yes, she’d wanted to see Colin in person after so many years apart, but this sensation of being blind-sided by something she couldn’t name was unsettling.  This never happened.  She never allowed it to.  She was too cold inside for anything to touch her.  But Colin had.

Wary of both her own unexpected emotions as well as Colin’s clear desire for the cat, Tori cuddled the chilly ball of fur to her chest.  She was in the shrubs at the side of the house.  Her gaze flickered uncertainly between Entworth and Colin, reading both men’s desires with ease.  She wanted to come home.  She just wasn’t certain where that was.  Then, she fixed Colin with a coppery-hued gaze he remembered all too well.  I take it she’s yours?

Reaching out, he was thankful when Tori handed him the kitten willingly.  She is.  I adopted her last week from the shelter.  I saw her photo in the ‘adopt-a-pet’ section of the local paper, and knew she was meant to be mine.  She looks just like…

Ebony, Tori finished for him, reaching out to stroke the kitten’s head, not daring to get any closer to Colin than was necessary.  Even now, he had the same effect he had on her when she’d been a gangly teenager trying to work up the courage to approach her old friend at a party they’d both attended.  Only amplified, as if every bit of his sexual desire was being focused on her.  He was the only man who made her feel this way.  He was the only man who made her feel – period.

You remember.  Colin’s gaze flicked to her, surprised.

Tori nodded.  I remember a lot about those months I spent in England.  She stroked the kitten again, gratified when Cleo nuzzled her palm.  I was happy there.  For while.  Then, afraid she’d allowed too much of Tori to slip through, she straightened and pulled away, becoming Victoria once again.  She didn’t miss the glint in Colin’s eyes that told her he’d seen her transformation, much as she’d tried to hide it.

Damn him!  She’d never had this problem before.  It was him.  There was no other explanation.  She never lost her composure.  Ever.  Then again, she hadn’t been face to face with Colin in years.  The two other times she’d seen him in person, she’d hidden, once behind a plant and the other time behind a marble column.  He’d never even seen her.  Now, being in the same room with him, face to face, it wasn’t as easy to hide behind her mask as it normally was.

Colin’s eyes seemed to lock with hers and she found herself unable to look away.  It was a different time, wasn’t it?  A better one, perhaps?  He didn’t know what else to say.  Of all the emotions he’d imagined he might feel upon seeing Tori again, this gut-churning mix of lust, desire, regret, need, and something else he couldn’t quite name wasn’t even one of his considerations.  And he didn’t like it.

He was saved from having to ponder that any longer when a thump sounded above him, and he looked up, sighing.  Now was not the time for this!  In fact, it was the last thing he needed with Tori in his home.  With a nod to Entworth, the butler took the cat from Colin and disappeared out the library doors, leaving Tori and Colin alone in the suddenly very small room.

Tori followed Colin’s gaze upward, recognizing the sound of an unhappy ghost immediately.  Spiritual problems? she asked, her mouth twisted in a half-smile.  Colin had been the most serious friend she’d had as a child, always over-thinking and over-analyzing everything.