Time's Mirror: Ghosts, Inc., #5

By Bethany M. Sefchick

Ghosts, Inc. – where the paranormal is normal!

Paranormal researcher Tesla Dane has never known her father.  She doesn't even know who he is!  The only connection she's ever had to him is a huge, gold gilt mirror he once owned where shadows seem to move deep within its silvery surface in the dark of night. So she's more than a little surprised when, one night, a sinfully handsome man emerges from those very shadows - a man who has the power to turn Tesla's world upside down.

Inventor Alexander Hartfield had been working for Tesla's father in a parallel universe since the early 1900s.  But now, The Inventor, as her father is affectionately known, has gone missing.  Alex hopes that by bringing the beautiful Tesla to Avalon, she can coax her father out of hiding - especially since the man has never met the daughter who bears his name.  He also hopes that he can keep his hands off of Tesla.  Because she's the boss' daughter.  And Alex isn't quite who he claims to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany M. Sefchick
• Release date: Oct 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781386056096

Bethany M. Sefchick

Making her home in the mountains of central Pennsylvania, Bethany Sefchick lives with her husband, Ed, and a plethora of Betta fish that she’s constantly finding new ways to entertain. In addition to writing, Bethany owns a jewelry company, Easily Distracted Designs. It should be noted that the owner of the titular Selon Park - one Lord Nicholas Rosemont, the Duke of Candlewood, a.k.a. "The Bloody Duke" - first appeared in her mind when she was eighteen years old and had no idea what to make of him, or of his slightly snarky smile.  She has been attempting to dislodge him ever since - with absolutely no success. When not penning romance novels or creating sparkly treasures, she enjoys cooking, scrapbooking, and lavishing attention on any stray cats who happen to be hanging around. She always enjoys hearing from her fans at: [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter One

Early July

Tesla, do you have the report Mia wanted regarding your research into the old factories at Compton Mills?  I hate to ask, but you know how she can be, especially since the activity there is really picking up and the owner of the Avenue of Dreams Shoppes is getting extremely anxious.  Mia wants to send Reed and Callie out there as soon as possible.  Pending your report, of course.

It was difficult to hate - or even be the tiniest bit upset with - the lovely and soft-spoken Chessie DeKay.  Who also just happened to be Ghosts, Inc. CEO and president Mia Thorpe-Hawthorne's personal assistant.  It was even more difficult when the young woman in question was standing right in front of a person and looking at them hopefully with those wide, soft-doe brown eyes.

Which was, Tesla Dane reasoned, precisely why Mia sent the well-liked young woman to do her dirty work in the first place.  Work that included pressing Tesla for the Compton Mills report when Mia already knew very well that at that exact moment, Tesla was supposed to be assisting Reed Talbott, GI's head chemist and spellcaster, track down a lost Macedonian spell book full of dark magic.

After all, Tesla was technically Reed's personal assistant.  Not Mia's.

On the other hand, Chessie was also Tesla's best friend.  It was yet another reason Mia had likely sent her assistant to the dungeon-like lab where Tesla worked, deep within the sub-basement levels of the old Pennsylvania Canal Building.  And the last thing Tesla wanted to do was cause her friend problems with her new boss.  Chessie had only been Mia's assistant for a few short months, and Mia was notoriously difficult to work for.  Tesla didn't want to be the reason her best friend lost her job.

With a sigh, Tesla rose from her desk and moved - stiff-legged from having been sitting for so many hours on end - over to a battered old filing cabinet that looked as if it had survived both World Wars and possibly some minor land wars in Asia as well.  She pulled an extremely thin file from the very top drawer and turned to Chessie with a frown.  This is all I have, Chess.  I'm sorry.  I was supposed to make the trip to Compton Mills last week, but Mia sent me to Lake Erie instead, remember?  That supposedly haunted ship that wasn't really haunted at all?  And it didn't have any deck prisms either, let alone one embedded with some kind of sacred talisman.  I have no idea where she received her information.  Tesla rolled her eyes for good measure.

A blush creeping up her cheeks, Chessie toyed with the heavy gold ancient Egyptian coin pendant that hung around her neck.  The necklace had been a gift from GI's resident relic hunter, Damian Easton, and Tesla didn't think she had ever seen the other woman without it.  I remember.  Very well, in fact.  Damian was led to believe there was something on that ship that was important.  It's why you were sent there first.  I'm sorry about that.

It's not your fault, Tesla sighed, handing over the file resignedly.  It's mine.  If I wasn't such a good researcher, I wouldn't have been sent there in the first place.  Then she gave a derisive snort.  Then again, if I wasn't such a good researcher, I wouldn't be employed here in the first place.  Heaven knows, there's nothing else I can do.

That's not true! Chessie protested, but even as she said the words, Tesla could tell the other woman didn't quite believe them.

Even though GI, the Altoona, Pennsylvania-based paranormal investigation agency where they both worked prided itself on its eclectic mix of employees - including those with no paranormal gifts or abilities at all - the truth was that most people who worked for the agency had some sort of psychic talent.  Even Chessie.  Though Tesla wasn't quite certain what type of talent her friend possessed.  Other than the seemingly random ability to connect with the aforementioned sexy and devastatingly handsome relic hunter via an odd type of telepathy that no one really understood.  No matter where in the world he was.

For as long as they had been friends, that was the one and only secret Chessie had never shared with Tesla.  Or anyone else for that matter.

Yes, Chess, it is, Tesla grumbled as she leaned back against the filing cabinet and rubbed at her red, weary eyes.  Some days I'm not even certain why Mia hired me.  But I guess she has her reasons.  I'm nothing like the rest of you at all.

According to Mia's husband Tim, the woman who ran the organization with a somewhat iron fist did, in fact, have her reasons for hiring Tesla the very day the young woman showed up at the GI offices.  Even if Tesla had no idea what those reasons were.  And Tesla wasn't about to ask Mia, either.  After all, the woman was just short of terrifying, even though she had mellowed a bit after marrying Tim a few months ago.  Still, Mia hadn't mellowed that much.

Tesla - who was normally quiet, shy and reserved, at least in her professional life - had summoned the courage to ask Tim about the matter a year or so ago.  However, the man had simply smiled mysteriously and would only say that Mia had her reasons.  Since the two extremely powerful psychics shared a very deep mental bond, Tesla had hoped for a little more by way of an explanation.  When none had been forthcoming, she had simply smiled in return and nodded at Tim before walking away, still just as confused as ever.

Mia does, Chessie confirmed with a small smile now.  There's a reason all of us are here, even if we don't know why.  Then she flipped through the Compton Mills file absently, but it was clear she wasn't really paying attention to the papers in front of her.  But this isn't just about Mia, the file, or Erie, is it?  What's got you so worked up, Tess?  It's really about that idiot Preston, isn't it?  What did that ass do this time?

Her friend's words made Tesla laugh, the first time she had done so in days.  You know me too well, Chess.

Tucking the file under her arm, Chessie leaned back against the hard hand-carved maple doorframe and shook her head in obvious disgust.  No, I just know that Preston Hale is a first-class jerk.  I don't care how much money his family has or how blue their blood is.  And I also know that you're too good for him.

Actually, he thinks he's too good for me, Tesla admitted quietly, But then we all knew that, didn't we?

Tesla had been dating Preston Hale - the heir to the infamous Hales of Massachusetts dynasty - for about six weeks.  They had met when Tesla was in Newport, Rhode Island, doing research for GI on another case.  Preston had been visiting his family, who still owned one of the fabulous mansions by the sea along Bellevue Avenue.  Tesla had been instantly smitten with the handsome, golden haired Prince of Massachusetts, as he was referred to by all of the national gossip magazines.

With his perfect manners, impeccable sense of taste and style - not to mention a family that he could trace directly back to the Mayflower - Preston was everything Tesla thought she wanted in a man.  In addition to being sinfully handsome and sophisticated, Preston was secure.  He was stable.  But most importantly, he had a family.  For a woman like Tesla who had none, that was a very powerful attraction.  Especially since Preston had lavished copious amounts attention on her from the moment they met.

From the very first, Tesla had known that Preston desired her not for her looks but rather for her quiet and unassuming ways.  That allowed him to keep all of the social and political limelight for himself, while still appearing as if he was finally getting ready to settle down.  Tesla was mousy, at least in comparison to the supermodels Preston usually dated.  In the looks department, she was no competition for him at all.  In fact, anyone seeing them together would have been hard-pressed to say what, exactly, the rich playboy scion had seen in the plain and unrefined paranormal researcher in the first place.

It turned out that Preston had never seen a thing in Tesla at all - at least nothing that he desired anyway.  Instead, she had been nothing more than a cover, mostly so that his family would think he was finally maturing and ready to gain access to his trust fund.  However when her erstwhile boyfriend had been discovered in bed with not one but two busty men's magazine centerfold models, the humiliating truth had become clear to everyone.  Especially to Tesla.

And when Tesla had - in Preston's opinion anyway - the nerve to object, he had dumped her.  Quickly.  And very publicly.  He required a woman who understood him, Preston had informed Tesla haughtily.  A true lady of impeccable breeding and social standing who understood that he wasn't about to give up his enjoyment of wine, women and song in order to remain faithful to a wife who was little more than a prop in his life.  Preston had assumed that Tesla, as a woman with virtually no past of her own, could understand that.  That he was the one who mattered.  Not her.  She was just little more than window dressing - and poor, plain, unassuming window dressing at that.

So the first time that Tesla had shown herself to be anything other than the meek, mild, and unassuming woman that Preston had thought she was, he had quickly tossed her aside like so much trash.  And made her feel horrible about herself in the process.

Tesla might not be a brash, outspoken woman - at least not around most people - but she wasn't about to be any man's doormat either.  At the moment, she didn't know who she was, but she had enough self-respect left to know that she deserved better.  And she had told Preston that in so many words.  As she had expected, he hadn't liked it.  At all.

So you two broke up?  For good this time? Chessie asked, tossing aside the file and coming over to envelop Tesla in an enormous hug after her friend had briefly related the whole, messy story and nodded a confirmation to the question.  Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.  Want me to have Damian put a curse on him or something?  He would do it.  I know he would.

Chuckling, Tesla hugged her friend back for a moment before releasing her.  No.  It's okay.  I knew it was coming.  If the supermodels wouldn't have pushed us apart, something else would have.  I'm not the kind of woman he thought I was.  He thought he could do whatever he wanted and I wouldn't care.  Or that I'd be too afraid to speak up.

At that, Chessie snorted in derision.  "Your real friends know better.  You're not a pushover, Tesla.  You just keep that part of yourself hidden for some reason.  I don't know why because when you are bold, you are awesome.  Trust me on that."

Tesla shrugged, knowing it didn't matter.  That was simply how she was.  Preston has also been pressing me to find out more about my family.  He just can't accept that I don't know anything at all about my father.  Even if I had been able to tell him that I was the love child of someone rich and famous, he would have been fine with that.  I think.  She toyed with the heirloom ring she always wore on her right hand, one of the few things she had left from her mother.  "But I'm not.  Or maybe I am.  That's the problem.  I don't know who I am.  And I just wasn't exciting enough for him.  Then she snorted.  Or meek enough either, I guess."

Tesla had never had a father when she was growing up.  It had only ever been her and her mother, Maria, a woman who kept her own past a secret from her only child.  Even now, Tesla had no idea what ethnicity her mother had been.  Their shared last name was Anglo-Saxon in origin, but it was clear to Tesla that her dark haired, bronzed skinned, exotic-looking mother had been anything but a cool English rose.  She could have been anything from Spanish to Italian and a dozen other ethnicities in between.  Even her voice gave no clue, as Maria Dane had long since erased any trace of an accent, leaving only flat, American-accented tones in place of what might have been.

Once, when her mother had been drunk, Maria had admitted that Tesla's father was an inventor, but that was as far as it had gone.  Any further attempts to get at the truth were met with a stern frown and a comment that Tesla had no need to know where she came from.  Only that she existed.

Tesla had hoped that as she grew older, there might come a time when her mother would finally give in and confess all, putting an end to her daughter's seemingly endless questions about her past.  That day never came.  As soon as Tesla turned eighteen, Maria Dane mysteriously disappeared, leaving behind only a note, a few pieces of heirloom jewelry, a magnificent but massive gold-gilt mirror that Tesla was ordered never to sell, and the ruby and diamond ring that Tesla now wore.

Reaching out, Chessie snagged one of Tesla's hands with her own.  "We could find out, you know.  This is a paranormal investigation agency.  Emphasis on the investigation part for once.  Just because your mother is gone doesn't mean we're out of clues or resources or places to look.  She gave Tesla's hand a reassuring squeeze.  Even if you didn't want to ask Mia, you could always ask Tim.  Or Damian.  Or even Reed.  He's your boss, after all.  He has to know this is important to you."

In truth, Tesla had considered asking GI to investigate her past more than once, but each time she had eventually decided against it.  She simply wasn't comfortable with the idea.  This organization looked for ghosts, not people.  Perhaps if Tesla herself had been gifted - even a little bit - she might have been more comfortable asking for help.  Instead, she said nothing, doing research on her own time and always coming up empty.  It was as if she had never been born at all.  Merely just appeared out of nowhere.

Maybe.  Tesla wasn't about to commit to anything just yet.  She wasn't certain how she felt about people prying into her private life, either.  What if she didn't like the answers they found?  Worse, what if those answers made the few friends she had look at her differently?  She could be the daughter of a murderer for all she knew.  It's not a big deal.  And anyway, Preston wasn't the right guy for me.  I could never be what he wanted.  I'm not special enough.  I'm just plain, old boring Tesla with no family and no life outside of my cosplay conventions.

Chessie was one of the few people who knew that for a few weekends a year, Tesla adored dressing up in Steampunk attire and becoming immersed in the fantasy worlds created at various convention halls across the country.  There, she could be anyone she wished.  She could even be a woman with an elaborate past or with a famous parent.

Those conventions were her outlet, but Tesla was also a little embarrassed about them as well.  She worried that people might think she was strange or had mental issues, even though lots of other people participated in those conventions, too.

Still, Tesla - with her already odd first name - didn't want people to know the truth.  She hadn't even told Preston.  Instead, she had simply stopped going to the conventions for a little while.  Only Chessie knew the truth and that was purely by accident.  Like the rest of her mysterious life, it wasn't something that Tesla was comfortable sharing with others.  She didn't like to take risks.

Well then that makes two of us with no life.  Chessie grinned, even though Tesla knew very well that there was far more to Francesca DeKay than met the eye.  So what do you say the two of us single girls go hit the town tonight?  It's Friday and there's a two for one drink special at Marty's on the corner.  And don't forget.  Tomorrow is the 4th of July and everyone is already celebrating.  I hear that Marty even has some sparklers for later in the night.  This time it was Chessie who rolled her eyes.

Tesla was tempted.  At least a little.  Marty's was her favorite, quiet corner bar where no one asked too many questions about her lack of paranormal ability, the guys were friendly enough, and the atmosphere was laid back.  She hadn't been there much since she had started to date Preston.  Instead, they often went to the local country club where he had secured a membership while working for Damian - who also happened to be President and CEO of Easton Industries - at the Altoona branch of Easton Oil.

Not that Preston truly worked, of course.  He didn't need to.  He was from the Hales of Massachusetts, after all.  But he did want to look good in the media's harsh, unforgiving eye.  The most important thing to Preston was his image.  Doing everything within his power to not look like a spoiled brat was extremely important to both Preston and his family.  Tesla now knew she had been simply one more part of that image.  She had known from the beginning that the relationship would end this way, of course, but for some reason - probably desperation or loneliness or her unquenchable desire to belong - she had taken the chance anyway.  And in the end, she had ended up burned.  Just as she had suspected she would.

Normally I'd love to, but I'm going to have to say no tonight.  I'm sorry, Chess.  There was a part of Tesla that really did want to go out and have fun.  But she had never been a fun and frolic sort of woman.  She was more serious and staid - often to her detriment she knew.  As it is, I'm going to have to come in tomorrow morning and catch up on some of this work.  I can't find a lead on that stupid Macedonia spell book, the report on Compton Mills is incomplete at best, and don't even get me started on all of the research Reed wants me to do for him on other cases.  And there are the reports from the Sher-Kel Theater in Houtzdale that still need to be reviewed.  She sighed and rubbed at her eyes again.  Besides, I'm really tired.  I haven't been sleeping well at night again.

Chessie growled, which didn't surprise Tesla in the least.  Her friend had always been the overly protective sort.  It's that damn mirror again, isn't it?  You think you're seeing things in it again.  I know it!  I told you that Damian could get rid of it for you.

It's not the mirror.  Tesla paused, not really wanting to lie to her friend again.  Okay.  Yes, it is.  But there is no guy living inside of it.  That's just crazy, even for this place.  And you know I can't get rid of it.  Not only did my mother specify that in her letter, you also remember what the lawyer said the last time I tried to sell it, I'm sure.  It's a no-go.

Chessie quirked an eyebrow.  Damian could make it disappear.  No fuss.  No muss.  Just poof...gone.  Just like that.  She snapped her fingers for good measure.

Thanks, but no.  I don't want to risk it.  Tesla really didn't.  Though the mirror had been what she privately referred to as a final parting gift from her mother, it was also big, bulky and took up the majority of one wall in her house - floor to ceiling when you included the frame.  It was big enough that people - at least two or three, in her opinion - could walk through the damn thing.

The mirror was massive, ornate and old.  And according to her mother's lawyer, un-sellable.  The last time Tesla had tried to get rid of the mirror, a man in a tweed suit and natty bow tie had shown up on her doorstep early one morning before the sun was even up.  The man had informed Tesla that if she sold the mirror, she would forfeit the remaining money in the trust fund Maria had left for her daughter's care.

Even now, Tesla had no idea how the man had discovered her plans to sell the mirror, but she could still remember the grim, determined expression on his face - an expression that left no room for argument.  If Tesla sold the mirror, she would be destitute.  She couldn't risk that and had agreed to keep the monstrosity.  Tesla also had the feeling that if she attempted to get rid of it again - or even allowed Damian to try and dispose of it - the man in the tweed suit would reappear.  He hadn't mentioned such a thing, of course, but Tesla's instincts assured her that he would be back in an instant.  And her instincts were usually correct.

Chessie frowned again.  Okay.  It's your mirror and your lack of sleep.  Then she bit her lip.  If you don't mind me asking, what's it doing this time?  You mentioned seeing a man.  I'm really curious.  And Damian is fascinated by the thing, too.  He thinks it's haunted.  I'm supposed to talk to him tomorrow, so it will give us something else to discuss other than the parade of women he's been seeing.

It was well known around the GI offices that Chessie had been nursing a crush on Damian for years - even well before there was an official GI.  It was also well known that Damian was a world-class playboy who bedded a different woman as often as other people changed socks.  It also didn't take psychic abilities to know that with each woman Damian bragged about sleeping with, Chessie's heart broke a little more each time.

No one, except Chessie, Damian - and probably Mia as well - knew specifically what bound the unlikely pair together mentally.  But whatever it was, it was a bond that ran deep and was apparently unbreakable, not allowing either one of them to be free of the other.  Otherwise, Tesla was fairly certain that Chessie, at least, would have moved on to another place of employment by now.  It was clearly torture for her to be around Damian, yet it was a torture she obviously couldn't escape.  Tesla didn't know of any woman - herself included - who was that much of a glutton for punishment.

Pondering Chessie's question, Tesla tried to decide how much to admit.  The mirror had always been a little peculiar, of course.  In the past, Tesla could have sworn that she saw lights moving as if in the distance within the mirror itself.  Other times, she thought she saw shadow figures and heard voices coming from it.  Once she was certain the thing had glowed a bright yellow in the middle of the night.

The most worrisome event, however, had occurred three nights ago.

Tesla had come home late from work, the hour fast approaching midnight.  She had been exhausted and fresh from her argument with Preston that had ended their relationship.  She had been ready to climb into bed when she was certain she felt someone watching her - from the direction of the mirror, which she had propped up in her bedroom for lack of a better place to put it in her small, cottage-style house.

Whirling around, Tesla had been certain that she saw the outline of a dark haired man turning away from her, a flash of brilliant green eyes the only thing that let her know that whatever was in the mirror was human and not a ghost.  Ghosts had silvery-gray eyes.  Not green or blue or brown or any other color really.  Not even the color they had possessed while alive.

The man had been tall and muscular, but wearing clothes from the early 20th century instead of modern garments.  He had been handsome too, or at least Tesla had thought so.  From what she had seen of him anyway.  Not that she had seen much, really.  There was also an air of sadness or perhaps desperation about the man - as if he was searching for something or someone.  Tesla doubted that it was her, much to her chagrin.

Which made no sense at all.  Even if she was losing her mind, it still didn't make sense.  And that worried her.  A lot.

Tesla had also felt a zing of real attraction zip through her veins as she watched the shadowy figure disappear into some sort of gray mist, their gazes locking briefly before he vanished before her eyes.  The man had been real.  Tesla knew he had been.  She just didn't know who he was or how he had come to be within her mirror.  But she wanted him - which was not at all logical.  Still, she couldn't deny the attraction that seemed to arc between them like lightning.

Because for that brief instant when their eyes had met, Tesla had known real desire and longing.  There was no logical reason for the sensations, but they were there, inside of her, just the same.  She wanted this man, wanted to know what his body felt like against hers, wanted to taste his lips and feel him move inside of her.  And all of that need and desire was completely ridiculous.  But as the days passed, those feelings didn't go away either.  Instead, they lingered in her thoughts until at least one small corner of her brain thought of nothing but him.  And her need to see him again.  Whoever he was.

For the last several nights, Tesla had sat up, watching the mirror to no avail.  When she was awake, the mirror didn't display anything but her own reflection.  However last night, she had awoken from a very vivid nightmare, only to see something that could have been the shadow man watching her again.  And she once again felt the now familiar stirring of desire deep inside of her.

The man - whoever he was - didn't frighten her.  Maybe he should have, but he didn't.  Instead, he had piqued Tesla's curiosity.  The very same curiosity that made her an excellent researcher.  So she had sat up and waited, watching the mirror until the wee hours of the morning.  Each time she began to nod off, she thought she saw the figure appear again, but by the time she came fully awake, he was gone.  Just as if he had never been.

Much as Tesla wanted to, she couldn't admit any of that to Chessie.  The other woman would think she was