Mystically Bound (Frostbite, Book Three) (3 page)

Remembering the power I owned, that Dane had
taught me, I pushed my irritation into my voice. “You are to leave
me alone—all of you. Go away.”

As my lips sealed shut, they instantly winked
out of existence and the dark night settled in once again. I’d
never been so happy to see nothing but black sky. I sighed. “Thank
God that works.”

“How many were there?” Gretchen laughed.

“Three.” I gave her a look. “In this old
place, I imagine they won’t be the only ones pestering me.”

Before she could respond, a sudden shimmer
flickered in my peripheral vision. I jerked my head to the side and
an odd light formed. I turned to fully face the white orb that
fluttered around in front of me. It started at the ground then
floated about a foot above me. Slowly, the light began to become
solid. “This is weird.”

Gretchen stepped in next to me. “What’s
weird?”

I’d never seen a ghost look like…
a
ghost
. Normally, they looked like everyday people—exactly like
the ones I’d just seen—only the goose bumps along my body and the
sensation of coldness indicated spirit. But weird might not have
been a strong enough description for the happenings now. “Do you
not see the light?” I pointed at the strange glow. “Right there, in
front of me?”

“I see nothing,” Gretchen replied in a low,
drawn out voice.

Perhaps I suspected she would, since it was
bright enough to force me to squint. The change of light to a solid
happened so gradually, as if I could see each part of the body
forming. Fingers shaped, arms and legs followed, all building from
the mass of light. “It’s a ghost.” I shook my head, searching to
find the right words. “I mean, it was light, and now it’s becoming
a ghost.”

“What?” Gretchen gasped.

I would’ve looked over at her and nodded in
agreement over the same sort of shock I heard in her voice, but I
thought it wise to keep looking at the ghost in case
something
happened. Exactly what would happen, I had no
idea. “He looks like an apparition.”

Gretchen sighed. “Which is different than
usual because…?”

“They’re never see-through.”

Gretchen stayed silent. Maybe she took the
hint I knew nothing else, since I definitely would’ve told her. I
shielded my eyes against the piercing light as the misty haze
continued to morph into the shape of a body.

One blink later, the body had formed.

It still, in no way, resembled anything I’d
seen before. The man figure wasn’t solid. I could, in fact, look
right through him. But his features were there. A crooked nose,
wrinkled face, short white hair, and dark eyes, even if I couldn’t
make out the color.

Standing to the right of the swamp, he stared
at me and a long awkward pause followed. I figured best get right
to it. “Are you Alexander?”

He waved.

I finally looked at Gretchen and she watched
me fiercely, thoughts clearly rummaging in her mind. Then, she
turned to where I’d been looking. “Is he there now?”

“Yes.” I regarded Alexander and his odd
state. “But he’s different—ghost-like.”

Gretchen snorted a laugh. “You do realize
that sounds peculiar.”

“It
is
peculiar,” I retorted, equally
as sharp.

I wondered if his condition had been caused
because his death was recent, but immediately ruled out the
thought. Kipp had been shot only days before he made contact with
me, and he didn’t look like Alexander.

After a moment of examining the strangeness
before me, I gave up on trying to figure it out myself. “Your
daughter asked me to come and find you. Why are you hiding?”

He shook his head.

I scrunched up my nose, gazing over him from
head-to-toe, noting something was more off than the
off
it
already was. “Can you talk?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Yes, very weird. You are see-through and
can’t talk.” At his nod, I glanced at Gretchen, who had lifted her
flashlight enough to see her face. “You’re the witch. Do you know
why this is?”

“No.” She frowned. “He can’t talk to
you?”

“Doesn’t appear so.”

Gretchen sighed, her gaze lowering to the
ground where she slid the tip of her shoe against the grass. When
she finally raised her head, sadness swam across her features. “I’m
sorry this has happened, Alexander. Can you somehow tell us who did
this to you?”

I rolled my eyes. How would he show us if he
couldn’t talk? But then I looked at Alexander. His head tilted back
as if he was looking at the sky, pondering, before he glanced at me
again.

He held up a finger.

“A finger,” I stated.

He shook his head and, even in his current
state, he looked frustrated with a furrowed brow and tight set to
his jaw. His eyes focused as he lowered his hand, only to raise a
finger a moment later.

I considered him, trying to understand his
point, and inhaled the murky air around me. The more he repeated
himself, the more an absurd thought formed in my mind of a similar
action I’d seen as a child. A game my parents used to play. Seeing
that he kept doing it, I figured it better to rule it out as
ridiculous so we could move on. “Are you suggesting we play
charades?”

He nodded.

“What?” Gretchen gasped.

The bullfrog croaked again and I grumbled a curse.
Without a doubt, the confirmation from Alexander showed on my face
because Gretchen’s smile died off, and her expression became
measured. “Actually, that’s brilliant.”

While I agreed with her, with no other form
of communication, this one was a good alternative, but caused a
huge problem. “Just so you know, I’m terrible at charades and lose
every game. But hopefully I’ve gotten better.” I thought over what
he’d shown me, remembering the rules my parents had taught me. “All
right. So, one word.”

He tapped his nose indicating right answer
with an approving smile. After which, he wrapped his hand around
his throat.

“Strangled,” I offered.

Again, he tapped his nose, then he pointed at
the ground.

I glanced to where he had pointed, eying the
dark water before I turned to him in full understanding. “You were
strangled at the swamp.”

He nodded.

“By who?”

His eyes became sad and he shrugged.

I nibbled my lip as a cricket now joined in
with the bullfrog and I considered what he had already shown. It
didn’t add up. “You didn’t see who killed you?”

He shook his head.

A hundred questions raced through my mind,
all of which would remain unanswered. I gazed over him, regarded
his peculiar situation and a thought formed. This situation was
even stranger than I first suspected. I looked at Gretchen. “After
Alexander died, did you see his body?”

“No.” She hesitated. “Why?”

“Because, how is he remembering all this?”
Ghosts only remembered what they needed to, to cross over—nothing
more. The fine details of his death weren’t relevant to easing his
distress to ensure he crossed in peace. If ghosts remembered some
finer details, it was because they had been a ghost for years,
which seemed to bring clearer memories. “Kipp is the only ghost who
retained his memory and that’s because he’s not dead.”

Gretchen’s eyes widened, but then she shook
her head. “Dane told me he was cremated, meaning they did have his
body. They had a very private service with Dane and Amelia, and
plan to hold a larger memorial after this situation is resolved for
the members to say goodbye to him.” She nibbled her lip, gazing
over the spot Alexander stood, yet clearly only seeing the dark
night. “I wonder if Alexander cast a spell before he died allowing
for him to remember.”

Alexander touched his nose.

“Yup, he did.” I ground my teeth together.
“This would be a lot easier without this…
restriction
.”

He appeared to sigh, and the slight incline
of his head confirmed his equal frustration.

Glancing up at the sky, the stars above me
twinkled, and I found myself at a loss as to where to go from here.
If I couldn’t talk to him, how could I get answers? Truth was, I
couldn’t, so I changed tactics. “Why do you look like you do?”

He pointed at Gretchen.

I turned an accusation glare onto her, my
heart skipped a beat, and my voice sounded on a snarl. “You did
this to him?”

“I did
not
.” She gasped.

An icy cold tickle sped up my arm and had me
glancing to Alexander, my breath lost to me. It didn’t rattle me
that a ghost touched me, but it was the reminder of what Kipp’s
touch felt like…and how much I missed it.

Tears threatened to rise and I forced them
back on a deep swallow. Alexander’s dismayed expression somehow
made me believe he understood. He pointed at Gretchen again, his
gaze intent. Shaking the thoughts off Kipp, I shoved the memory
away and considered Alexander’s message. “A witch?”

Nodding, he waved his hand, urging me on.

“Magic,” I offered.

With a sad smile, he tapped his nose.

“Ah, gotcha.” I turned to Gretchen,
discovering her scowling at me. Clearly, I had insulted her. I
understood; we’d become close in an odd circumstance, but if she
had accused me, I would’ve ripped a strip off her. “Okay, I’m sorry
I blamed you. You never would have done anything like this, but cut
me a break. It’s all very confusing.”

She lifted her chin, unfolding her arms. “I
accept your apology.” Her look of vindication shone through her
gaze before her eyes narrowed. “Don’t do it again.” After a long
stern stare down, she relaxed her features. “Now, what’s this about
magic?”

“He said—or gestured, I mean to say—that it’s
magic.”

She studied me a moment, then she turned to
the spot where I’d been looking at Alexander. “You suspect someone
used magic on you at the time of your death?” Without giving me a
chance to get his response, she added, “Actually, that makes sense.
Perhaps someone used a spell on Alexander to force him to cross
over, but he stopped them.”

Looking at Alexander again, he tapped his
nose.

“You got it.” Then I realized what that
meant. “Wait. Someone didn’t want his ghost to remain?”

“Exactly.” A note of pride hit Gretchen’s
voice, lifting her voice an octave. “Alexander was one of the best
spell users I’ve ever met. He’s clearly broken through the hold and
fought against them.” She glanced around at the swamp with her
flashlight, then finally looked at me. “I sense elevated magnetic
fields in this area—that might be how he’s doing it. The use of the
powerful fields would break most spells.”

Alexander confirmed her suspicions with a
firm nod.

“Oh,” was my reply at that bit of
nonsense.

While I had come a long way in believing in
magic, my knowledge still lacked when it came to spells and such.
If I hadn’t seen firsthand how magic
did
work, I might have
laughed now, but I had banished a demon back to Hell. Restricting a
ghost, and somehow breaking that hold, seemed possible.

Gretchen pinched her nose, staring at the
beam of her flashlight on the grass before she lifted her head. “Do
you suspect there was magic used at your death and that’s why you
don’t know who killed you?”

He tapped his nose.

“Yup,” I confirmed.

My own questions rose, followed by
frustration. He seemed to know about as much as we did, which was
jack shit. “Is there anything else you can show me that can help?
Your daughter wants to find out who did this to you.”

Shadows formed in his eyes as he shook his
head.

My heart wrenched over the depth of sadness
prevalent on his ghostly features. If I could see his emotions as
clearly as I did in his current condition, they were raw and
intense. And this was exactly why I tried to keep my distance from
ghosts, their pain and dismay always sucked in me.

Gretchen took a step forward and her voice
softened. “I promise I’ll do my best to break the spell, Alexander,
so you can move on.”

He nodded with conviction.

“He likes that idea,” I told Gretchen.

Alexander smiled, staring at me with a fierce
look, as if he had no doubt we could help him. Since I didn’t make
the offer to help and I’d never met him, this seemed odd. The hair
on my neck stood up in warning. “Um…do you know me?”

His knowing eyes said it all.

Bizarre.

Without the chance to press him further, his
presence began to fade. “Oh, I think he’s leaving now.”

Before my eyes, his shadowy form flickered
back into light until all that remained was the orb, floating
within the dark sky. When the light vanished, I turned to Gretchen.
“He’s gone.”

“I suspect the power he gains from the
magnetic fields can only be held for so long.” She angled her
flashlight up to show her face, and her gaze was concerned. “This
is bad.”

“When did you get your first clue?” I
snapped, totally understanding where she was going with this. “Bad
is a dead man. A shit storm of trouble is that someone used
magic
on him.” Even I saw what that meant—only certain
people would know of that spell. “How well do you know the members
of Animus?”

“Very well.” Her voice lowered, saddened.
“None of them would do this.” At my raised eyebrows, she hesitated
and sighed. “Or what I mean to say is, none I would suspect of
killing Alexander.”

I rubbed my face, blowing out a long deep
breath as crickets sang around me. Dammit, why did things have to
get so messy? Why couldn’t Alexander be a normal ghost—as
ridiculous as the thought was—and tell me who killed him? I could
make a call to the police and case closed. Another mystery was so
not
what I needed right now, but seeing his condition was
all types of awful.

After another hard rub of my very tired eyes,
I lowered my hands and shook them out to shed my frustrations. But
as I did, a thought returned that formed earlier with vengeance.
“Question, when did Alexander die?”