The Dead Tell

By Jaycee Clark

Some people talk with the living, some speak with the dead...

Paige Holcomb enjoys her life in New Orleans. Friends she considers family, a man she can’t figure if he’s a friend or more, and of course the others. The others being those who aren’t breathing and who gravitate to her for help. Why she’s cursed, she’s never figured out, but help the ghostly women she will.

Nothing much shocks homicide detective Mike Killian, but the stubborn woman he’s been after constantly manages it. Paige gives wary a whole new meaning and he’s given her space and time. But he’s done waiting. She’s his and it’s time she came to terms with that.

When the ghosts of murdered women start visiting Paige, Mike will do whatever he must to keep her safe while she learns to use her ability to help stop a murderer before it’s too late.

Warning: Contains adult content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaycee Clark
• Release date: Oct 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781625010735

Book preview

The Dead Tell

Magical Temptations

by

Jaycee Clark

The Dead Tell © copyright 2013 by Jaycee Clark

First Electronic Printing October 2013, The Raven Books

Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2013

ISBN-10: 1625010737

ISBN-13: 978-1-62501-073-5

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Published by The Raven Books at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Jaycee Clark.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence. Novel intended for adults only. Must be 18 years or older to read.

Published by The Raven Books

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Raven Books and all affiliate sites and projects are © Copyrighted 2004-2013

The Dead Tell

by

Jaycee Clark

The Dead Tell

Book One in The Dead series.

Some people talk with the living, some speak with the dead…

Paige Holcomb enjoys her life in New Orleans. Friends she considers family, a man she can’t figure if he’s a friend or more, and of course the others. The others being those who aren’t breathing and who gravitate to her for help. Why she’s cursed, she’s never figured out, but help the ghostly women she will.

Nothing much shocks homicide detective Mike Killian, but the stubborn woman he’s been after constantly manages it. Paige gives wary a whole new meaning and he’s given her space and time. But he’s done waiting. She’s his and it’s time she came to terms with that.

When the ghosts of murdered women start visiting Paige, Mike will do whatever he must to keep her safe while she learns to use her ability to help stop a murderer before it’s too late.

The Raven Books Presents

Magical Temptations Collection

The Dead Tell by Jaycee Clark

Tactical Magik (An Immortal Ops Book) by Mandy M. Roth

Divining Helena (Divinity Magic) by Michelle M. Pillow

Flourish by Jax Cassidy

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the fabulous M&M. Almost ten years ago, these two began talking me into things I’d never normally do. I’ve often wondered what my life would have been like if I’d never signed that first contract, which means I’d have never met Michelle Pillow or Mandy M. Roth. That’s a sad thought. We released our first books on the same day and lifelong friends were born. So to Mandy and Michelle, thank you for all the laughs, phone calls, neurotic emails, laughs, strange wonderings, plot ideas, pity parties, and laughs. You guys are a joy, not just to me, but to many.

Here’s to meeting of friends who accept you as you are, to friends you can call any time, who make you strive for more, and who help you plan for any eventuality that might arise. Here’s to ten more years of awesomeness—and more laughs. Oh and Michelle, I want a Dragon Lord. I really think if you get a Deadly, I should get a Dragon Lord. And Mandy, I want an Immortal Ops.

Love you guys!

Chapter One

New Orleans

He turned the woman’s head just a smidge to the side. There. That looked right.

It had to be right. Had to look perfect. Art should always be perfect, after all. Otherwise, what was the point? Art might be open to interpretation but bad art was bad art and he wasn’t about to be accused of being a sloppy artist.

The blood from her wound pooled around her on the cool, lichen-stained marble. She might have cared if she was alive.

But she wasn’t.

That was fine with him. Her mewls and cries had gotten on his nerves. He’d had to put the tape over her mouth again just to get her to shut the hell up.

Look how that had turned out.

He should have known better. The adhesive had left an area that he could easily see. The area around her mouth, those perfectly wide, plump lips, was now marred with redness. He hoped it wouldn’t ruin the final image.

It would have to work, though. Unless he got makeup?

No. He shook his head. He wasn’t going to screw up her natural beauty. It had taken him too long to find her to begin with. She’d been perfect in almost every way.

The clothing fit her perfectly, didn’t it?

The cemetery wasn’t cold tonight, but then it hardly ever got truly cold here in the Big Easy.

The scent of her blood mixed with the dirty scents that always permeated the city—mud from the river, too much garbage, and human waste.

He stepped back and took several photos, then looked at the scene.

No, she still wasn’t right. He glanced around, tapping his finger on the edge of his camera. He’d have to hurry. Too many more flashes and someone was bound to come along to see what was going on. He’d rather have set her up in his studio. Granted, he had taken some photos of her there, but they were more work-in-progress types, not the finished, final product.

He’d decided the photos needed more. But he’d already planned what to do with her.

It had taken him almost an hour to get her to look just right.

She lay on her side, her arm outstretched, palm up. Her eyes had been open in previous photos, but he’d shut them when doing her light makeup; she’d needed mascara—lashes should be seen. Dead eyes were just dead. There was no life in them, no soul, no animation.

Dull did not go well with his artwork.

His artwork was great. He’d be great!

This would be great.

The angel who swooped over her, stood atop an above ground grave; the stone warrior was missing a wing.

He rather liked that as well—added a touch to the whole effect. He scanned back through his Nikon 5100’s photos, the high-dollar digital camera one of his prides and joys.

But he’d needed it, needed to capture his ideas. Now he used it as he pleased.

Her white dress was stained, but not too much. He’d made sure to dress her after. After he’d ended it all. The scarf around her neck hid the wound he’d given her. A quick, fast slice. Not completely across her throat. How clichéd would that be? He’d only needed a small slice, just at the jugular. As fast as her scared heart had been beating, it hadn’t taken her long to bleed out, especially inverted as she had been. He’d learned inversion helped to keep things clean.

Even from here, he could hear revelers, probably on their way home from Bourbon Street.

He glanced that way, knowing he shouldn’t be here. The cemeteries were curfewed, but he didn’t care. He was too important for anyone to bother, though they might call the cops. He rather hoped not.

He should have bought his lights. The lighting was all wrong for this scene. It needed sharper shadows in a few of the photos. He wanted the light and dark. The good and evil. The innocence and the guilty.

It had taken him forever to figure out how to pose her.

And now that he could, the flashlight just wasn’t doing it. He couldn’t get the photos he wanted in his studio. He needed a cemetery. An area of death, to add the finality to it. Give it an edge.

He wondered how many people would understand, would see that she wasn’t really dead.

That was, if he showed his art—he wanted to show his art. He wanted to share it with the world.

However, he wasn’t quite ready, but he’d get there. At least he no longer left the bodies he’d practiced on in the dumpsters. But really, they were just practice. Practice made perfect.

It wasn’t like they’d be missed. Not really.

This one might. Might. He picked her up yesterday on her way home from work. He’d followed her. Approached her.

God, his hands had been sweating, he’d been shaking but she apparently hadn’t noticed. She’d been distracted by a dog.

He’d planned this scene in his head for weeks, and then he’d seen her. The Muse had chosen her for him.

Perfection.

Almost.

The lighting was just off.

He frowned and wondered if he waited until almost dawn if that might help.

Might. It would lighten. He could still