Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Connor hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything other than Holly’s earlier declaration that she was an idiot for sleeping with him. What had she meant by it? Did she regret their time together? Had he done something to upset her?

While sitting on a log and breathing in the crisp air, he’d watched Missy gradually draw Holly out of her shell until she was giggling and dancing around the fire, her little witch skirt clinging to her thighs and her dark hair flying around her back as she screamed the lyrics to a children’s Halloween song. The orange glow of the fire had draped around her, and she’d looked like a pagan goddess from another time. He could easily imagine her dancing around this very fire a thousand years earlier.

His heart fisted when she threw her head back and laughed, her eyes sparkling with joy and her throat bare to the night.

“Your Wicked is sexy,” Erikson said in his ear.

Connor turned on him with murder in his eyes, and Erikson threw up his hands and chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You need to reevaluate your life, brother. It’s not every day you meet a woman who makes you look like a kicked puppy.”

Connor scoffed. “I don’t look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re practically whimpering, and I can’t blame you. Like you said, she’s one of a kind.”

“We have three days of filming left, and then we’re packing up and moving on.” Connor couldn’t tear his eyes from her, even as he talked to Erikson. “It was never going to last.”

“Have you asked yourself why that is?”

Connor finally looked away from the Wickeds dancing in the moonlight. “What do you mean? Relationships don’t work for us. We’re constantly on the move.”

“True.” Erikson reached for a stray apple branch on the ground and began twirling it between his hands. “We’ve built an awesome show. We’ve accomplished everything we’ve ever dreamed of, and we haven’t stopped traveling since we were old enough to escape our parents. Have you ever wondered why we push ourselves so hard, never resting, never setting down roots?”

“I know why I do. I want to normalize the paranormal so kids like us have a shot at a regular life. So that their parents look at them with love instead of disappointment and fear. So that when they’re adults, they actually have a relationship with their parents.”

“Yeah, that’s the noble thing we keep telling ourselves.” Erikson leaned back and let the stick fall to the ground. “It’s probably how it started, but that’s not the reason we keep moving from location to location, constantly filming and refusing to grow. Refusing to let go. Refusing to see what’s right in front of us.” Erikson let his eyes touch on Holly for a moment. “When it comes down to it, Con, we’re still scared nine-year-olds running from the ghosts of our past.”

“No, we aren’t! We’re not running from shit. We chase ghosts. We go where no one else will.”

“We never confronted the ghost at our childhood home,” Erikson said flatly. “We’ve been avoiding our past for years, trying so hard to prove that we’re normal instead of embracing the fact that we’re different. Look at them.” He nodded toward Holly and Missy and Rose dancing around the fire. “They’ve at least accepted who they are, and it’s a lot fucking scarier than what we are. Maybe it’s time we do the same.”

“What are you saying?”

Erikson rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes passionate as they bored into Connor’s. “I’m saying maybe it’s time we stop chasing everyone else’s ghosts. Maybe it’s time we accept what happened to us and move on. Grow. ”

Connor didn’t have a chance to respond because a chill swept over the clearing. The air plummeted to a temperature so bone cold that he instantly recognized it as spectral.

He jumped to his feet and was at Holly’s side in a moment. “He’s here.”

She nodded, her eyes probing the darkness.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

Again she nodded. “How will he know I’m telling the truth?” They’d agreed that Holly, acting as Autumn, would share the story of the apple mix-up. There was a chance the truth would dissolve Miller’s tether of rage, although Connor wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Connor hesitated. “It’s hard to explain, but I believe he’ll just know. There’s a frequency to truth we can’t recognize on this plane. Whether it sets him free is another story.”

A shape materialized in the darkness, and Councilman Miller drifted toward the fire. No matter how many times Connor saw a ghost, he was always struck with the same cold dread. Every hair on his body stood as if he were being electrocuted. It was a distinct sensation, and the power of it was a crude barometer of the ghost’s strength. Councilman Miller was an usually powerful specter, his energy tinged with such hatred that Connor tasted iron in his mouth.

Jonathan Miller looked as all Connor’s interviewees had described him, wearing a sharp hat and finely tailored coat. The spirit had no substance—light passed straight through him—and still Connor swore flames from the fire flickered in the man’s eyes. This was someone who’d wielded an enormous amount of power over others during his lifetime. He’d used his status and wealth to manipulate and oppress—and he’d gotten away with it until Autumn Celeste. The strength of Miller’s greed and entitlement had allowed him to continue his reign of terror even after death, but Connor knew the ghost was once again going to meet his match in a Celeste woman.

“Witch,” the councilman hissed, his voice seeming to come from every direction around them.

Connor’s fists flexed. It was a pretty parlor trick, but he was unimpressed.

Councilman Miller floated closer to Holly, his ghostly eyes burning with animosity. “You dare to dance about in wickedness in my town, clothed to tempt men into sin. I should have brought charges of indecency and witchcraft against you. Thomas would not have scorned my deal if he weren’t bespelled.”

“Ugh, gag.” Missy made a retching noise from the other side of the fire. “You’re a piece of work, pal. This is our town now, and you’re floating around like some old-timey weirdo pretending to be a big shot, when everyone knows you’re nothing but a sexist pig and rapist excuser.” She turned to Winter. “Did I miss anything?”

“Probably a lot,” Winter said stonily, “but we don’t have all night.”

Holly stood strong and sure, Councilman Miller’s rage never wavering from her face despite Missy’s excellent character recital. Holly must’ve truly resembled Autumn Celeste to command the spirit’s focus while women he would consider inferior raked him over the coals. Holly lifted her chin and faced him down. “You killed yourself.”

Councilman Miller blinked, confused by her assertion and the truth he heard in it. “I would never.”

“You stole the apple off Autumn’s porch, the one wrapped in the white cloth in the basket.”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“Stealing is taking something that is not yours. I know people like you think laws and morals only apply to the less fortunate, but that doesn’t change reality. You stole her apple and ate it. She had cursed the apple so that it would destroy evil, and when you ate the apple, it did its job.” Her voice was strong and pure, the truth of her words ringing in the clearing. “Autumn Celeste had no intention of ending your life. You killed yourself through your own greed.”

The ghost appeared thunderstruck as her words penetrated the consciousness that hovered between worlds. Connor watched expressions flit across his face. First there was vindication, for he believed himself to be right about Autumn being a wicked witch. Then there was confusion and a struggle to accept the truth. Connor held his breath. This could go one of two ways. Either Councilman Miller would embrace denial and blatantly twist the truth to suit his own needs, or he would accept the words for the fact they were. Knowing the kind of man Councilman Miller was, Connor was unsurprised when he chose the former.

“You still poisoned the apple, and whether you meant to murder me or not, you did.”

“Big surprise, the jerk can’t take responsibility for his own actions.” Missy heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m getting really sick of him. Grimms, how do we kick his ass back to hell?”

Exorcisms rarely worked, but then again, they rarely had five women with untold power in their midst.

“Agreed,” Connor said. “It’s time for this guy to go home.”