Michelle Rowen - Hot Spell

Jacob got up and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet.

“The ghosts?” he asked.

She scanned the room. They’d disappeared the moment she turned away from them.

She ran through the information she’d received. Catherine’s aunt had given her the clock as a wedding gift and Catherine believed it to be enchanted in some way—the reason her and Nathan’s spirits were trapped in the house.

It was almost midnight. If she could witness what happened when the clock struck midnight, maybe that would help in the assessment. If she could do something, anything to break the curse for the ghosts…

Why was she allowing herself to become so involved with this? She didn’t even like love stories, let alone tragic ones that ended in murder.

“The ghosts are gone,” she said. “For now. We need to find the clock.”

“What clock?”

What was she supposed to say to that that didn’t make her sound completely insane? Then again, what did she care what Jacob thought of her? “It’s a clock that was here when the ghosts were cursed. It might even be the cause of the curse. We need to find it, assess it, and then we’re getting out of here.”

“The last part’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all evening.”

“Do you have a camera?”

“Yeah, right here.” He patted his pocket.

There was a stairway at the end of the hall. The lights were dim and not all of them worked but it was enough to see their way. Amanda wasn’t afraid. Some might be in a haunted house, but she’d already met the ghosts. Not the friendliest sort, but nothing overtly evil there.

She’d felt their love. She’d seen it in the vision. It hadn’t been only an affair, it had been deeper, truer. Not everyone found that sort of love in their life. But if it made one make dangerous and questionable decisions that led to getting shot, then she’d prefer to keep to the much more orderly emotions, thanks.

There was no chance that her relationship with David would end up with her pining away for his spirit. Not that she didn’t care for him; there was some strong affection there, but love?

Amanda’s life was unpredictable enough dealing with her psychic abilities without adding love to the equation.

“WHY DO we care about this clock, again?” Jacob asked as they ascended the staircase to the second floor of the dimly lit, musty-smelling house.

Amanda didn’t answer right away, which worried him a little. Was she in another trance? Was she communicating with the ghosts? He’d never worked with her before, but he’d worked with other mediums enough to know that dead people weren’t always friendly and cooperative. No, sometimes they were vicious and violent and intent on possession. A soft, sweet-smelling, warm human body like Amanda’s would be their first choice to thrust themselves into.

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