Ghost Touch

By Mary Winter

A witch looking for her spirit guide.

Teri Mallory follows her grandmother’s dying wish and works a spell to bring her a spirit guide. Teri expects an elderly spirit with the wisdom of the world to help her find her way. What she gets is a scorchingly sexy ghost bound for vengeance who turns her life and her heart inside out.

Death separates them. Passion unites them, and all too soon, she finds that she needs his ghost touch...

This book is a rereleased version of a book by the same title. It has been revised and updated, though is not substantially changed from the previous version

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Winter
• Release date: May 30, 2016

Book preview

Ghost Touch

By Mary Winter

Copyright 2008 by Mary Winter

ISBN# 978-0-9820050-7-1

Smashwords edition published by Pink Petal Books at Smashwords

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Prologue

Four years ago…

Darkness bathed Sage Kaimoon. Night brushed against his skin, a tangible cloak that comforted him. He leaned against a decrepit warehouse building, pausing for a moment before duty called. Restrained adrenaline surged through his veins. Damp cement pressed against his cheek, and he slowly shifted to rest a slim hip against the building.

Mentally, Sage cursed the drizzle and tried to ignore the feeling of wet, black denim clinging to his legs. His soggy leather jacket silently dripped water while he stared into the black night, wondering if things could get any worse.

Abandoned warehouses surrounded the dock, forming an inhibiting wall of cement and steel. In a pool of watery yellow light from a nearby streetlamp, two men stood conversing, seemingly unaware of Sage’s presence. Heavy mist shrouded them. Their long coats and briefcases set them apart from the dockworkers that crisscrossed the yard during the day.

A droplet of water slid from Sage’s long black hair and trickled down his nose. He remained still, allowing the water to stream over his hawk-like profile. He dared not move, not if he wanted to remain concealed.

Watching the two men made his stomach churn with emotion: disgust at his partner for selling out, hatred at the traitor who didn’t care how many lives he destroyed, and fury at himself for not being able to stop it. It shouldn’t have had to come to this. He shouldn’t have had to lead a sting operation against his partner.

The men stepped directly beneath the street lamp, and Sage focused his attention on the man with blonde hair—his partner…Kyle.

Assignments like this one give me ulcers. Sage swallowed against the burning sensation, the slight bobbing of his Adam’s apple the only movement in the dark, misty night. Illuminated by the street lamp, Kyle fidgeted, his lean frame making him look like a teenager caught out past curfew. The other, a stocky man with tobacco-colored hair, stood calmly, as if he purchased illegal documents every day. Kyle talked with Jean Lu-Marc, a criminal.

Several years ago, Lu-Marc had sold secrets of his native country, France, to the Russians in exchange for information to sell to America. Everything went well until Lu-Marc had double-crossed the American government. Sage had been on Lu-Marc’s trail for over two years. This time he wouldn’t let the bastard get away.

Snippets of conversation floated through the dark night.

Do you have the money? Kyle asked as he brushed water from his forehead. He glanced around warily, the action drawing Sage’s attention. Even during the most harrowing of missions, Kyle had projected the calm facade of an FBI agent. His apparent nervousness seemed out of place.

Lu-Marc patted his silver briefcase, acting as if he preferred to conduct transactions in the rain. Do you have the documents? I have waited a long time for this information.

Kyle nodded as he motioned to his dark leather portfolio, and Sage fought the urge to shake his head at the obvious actions. Kyle never used his portfolio unless he hid something. Damn it, I was right. God, I hate doing this. Sage looked around and saw the back-up agents waiting, a discreet distance away from the two men.

Come on, hand over the damned documents. This has got to go down clean. I don’t want any trigger-happy agents behind me.

I want my money before you get the documents, Kyle said.

Sage shook his head. Stupid move, partner. You’re going to get yourself shot.

Lu-Marc chuckled as he handed Kyle the silver briefcase. Kyle opened his attaché warily, as if it contained plutonium. Unnoticed by everyone but Sage, a yellow envelope slid to the ground. It must not have contained the secrets Kyle was selling, for he handed Lu-Marc a second manila envelope with a smug smile.

Let’s wrap this up, guys. Sage breathed deeply to steady his hammering heart and pivoted into the clearing.

Special Agent Kaimoon. Get those hands up! Sage aimed his gun at the men.

Kyle slowly turned, starting to raise his hands, then stopped. Sage, you could have been rich. He reached into his coat and pulled a small 9mm from an inner pocket.

Lu-Marc mirrored his actions.

At the first sign of Kyle’s weapon, Sage aimed his own Glock 9mm at Kyle and fired.

The sound of simultaneous gunfire echoed on the dock.

Kyle staggered. He stared at the rapidly spreading bloodstain on his shirt, disbelief showing on his face. He looked at Sage, his mouth opening and closing, then crumpled to the ground. Beneath him, blood pooled from the exit wound.

Intent on watching his partner, Sage hardly felt the burst of pain as a bullet entered his chest. He swiveled and fired at Lu-Marc. Die, bastard!

He watched in satisfaction as the criminal fell to the cement, blood oozing from multiple wounds. After two years of hell, he had accomplished his mission at last. Triumph filled him, quickly overshadowed by the burning sensation in his chest. The strength left his legs, and Sage crumpled.

Lying on the damp cement, he tried to breathe past the searing pain. His breath hissed from between clenched teeth and realization bore down upon him like death’s chariot.

I’m going to die.

The steady drizzle soaked his clothing, until he couldn’t tell what was rain or blood. Swirls of color burst before his eyes. I can’t die. Not yet. I have to tell Marcy about Kyle.

A fresh round of agony filled him, momentarily bringing him back to reality. A comforting blackness enveloped him with the promise of peace, and Sage struggled against the pull of the darkness.

Don’t move! We’ll take you to a hospital, a male voice ordered. The jostling of someone feeling for his pulse and the cool sensation of a cloth against his chest pulled him from his journey into the dark tunnel. The voice murmured more concerned words at him, and his mind barely registered the mundane actions, focusing instead on the darkness from which he had been pulled.

Kyle? Sage asked. I’ve known him since I was a senior in high school. He was just a confused kid back then. I know he didn’t mean to turn against us. If only I could find out why. Pain filled Sage’s chest, interrupting his thoughts. Please, God, take me, but don’t let Kyle be gone.

Dead, replied the disembodied voice.

Sage moaned. I’ve killed my partner. I could have brought him back, kept him from execution. He’d have gone to jail for a while, but he’d still be alive… He’d lost a partner and a friend. Grief filled him. The pain flared once more, before ending abruptly.

His awareness rose from his body as if extracted by a large set of tweezers. A popping noise sounded in his mind, and when he opened his eyes, he stared at the scene from a short distance away. Half of his mission team surrounded his physical body. The other half surrounded the dead bodies of Kyle and Lu-Marc.

Kyle’s spirit sat in a huddle away from his body. Tears streamed down his partner’s spirit face.

I didn’t mean to do it. I only wanted to give Marcy everything she wanted, Kyle said between sobs.

Marcy didn’t want you dead, Sage thought, but said nothing.

Lu-Marc snatched the envelope from his own dead body. I have the list and now, not even mortality can stop me. Evil laughter filled the clearing as Lu-Marc dashed away, holding a manila envelope. Instinctively, Sage knew the agents would see only an envelope floating over the dock, if they saw anything at all.

Sage walked to Kyle and softly laid a hand on his partner’s shoulder.

What are you doing here? You killed me! Kyle yanked his shoulder away.

Sage turned from him, hurt searing his soul. The impact of Sage’s death blossomed into reality like the bullet hole in his chest. A silent moment of loss passed because he didn’t have anyone, as Kyle had Marcy. Alone in the world, that was the way Sage Kaimoon always liked it—except now when it was too late to change anything.

Sage watched as an agent moved from his physical body to Lu-Marc’s, noticing a yellow envelope marked TOP SECRET which poked from beneath the edge of Lu-Marc’s coat. The agent looked at the contents and shouted for the captain. Lu-Marc must have picked up what he thought had been important and missed the good stuff, Sage realized.

He looked around. So this is the afterlife. The silhouette of Lu-Marc’s spirit body disappeared behind a building. Sage looked grimly at the still-sobbing Kyle and hoped that someone would be along to help him. Maybe St. Peter? I don’t think they covered this in Sunday School.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sage headed toward the place where he had last seen the criminal. In life, Sage had vowed to bring Lu-Marc down. He wouldn’t let death stop him.

~* * *~

Across town in an old Victorian home, the aroma of sandalwood incense filled a library lined with huge oak shelves of dusty tomes. A low table holding only a wooden box sat beneath the middle of three windows in the room. Four candles marking the cardinal directions flickered, the wavering flames dotting the room with scattered light. In the protective circle formed by the candles, two women sat.

The elder of the two intoned a chant. With her long, silver hair unbound and her flowing emerald robe, the wizened old crone looked like she held the secrets of the universe. The younger woman wore a pair of jeans and a sapphire scoop-necked shirt. She sat with her head bowed, meditating upon the elder’s words, candlelight dancing on the highlights in her russet hair. With a drawn-out word, the older woman ended the chant.

That is all for today, Teri, the elder woman, Irene, said, tapping Teri on the shoulder.

Okay, grandma, Teri replied, standing effortlessly and helping her grandmother to her feet. With a gliding motion, Teri moved around the circle and snuffed the candles. Harsh, electric lighting flooded the room as Irene clicked the light switch. Teri laid the candles and their holders in the small, wooden box sitting on the low table.

I have something I want to give you, Irene said once no trace of the ritual remained. She turned toward a picture of fairies hanging between the first and second windows, and sliding the picture back, Irene motioned for Teri to stand beside her.

Behind the picture, a second wooden box covered in carved runes rested in a small alcove. Irene carefully set it on a low table before the picture and opened the box with gentle fingers.

This is yours, and I want you to take it. Irene stepped aside, letting Teri peer into the box where old, yellowed books rested on a bed of cotton. Under the material, Teri knew, lay a double-edged knife and a flat, wooden incense burner, along with her grandma’s other magical tools. It would have been an honor just to see these objects and feel the power radiating from them, but to have her grandmother give them to her seemed unthinkable. The tools represented her grandma’s years of study.

I can’t take them, Grandma. I’m not ready, nor am I worthy, to use your tools, Teri insisted, knowing she had only studied Wicca for eight years, many less than her grandmother.

You must take it, my child. You are the only one of my kin who cares.

But, Grandma… Teri heard the sorrow in her grandmother’s voice, and she did not want to face it. Surely the Goddess will let my grandmother live for many more years.

You must take it. My time left here is short. Teri watched as her grandma gave a feeble cough. Irene had many skills, and Teri hoped that her grandmother hadn’t foreseen her own death. Grief filled her at the thought of loss. Her grandmother, her anchor, had kept her centered through teenage traumas and the heartbreak she’d gone through in college.

Okay, Grandma, Teri relented. But I’ll guard this with my life. Surely there are a few secrets left in the universe that you haven’t taught me. Despite the teasing tone in her voice, Teri remembered the hours of study her grandma had given her, and deep in her heart, she knew there were some secrets her grandmother didn’t wish to teach.

Child, there is much you do not know, and much I don’t wish you to know. Irene winked, confirming Teri’s thoughts.

You’re too sweet for what is in that box, but I cannot trust anyone else. Put the box away, and let us discuss happier things. Irene shook her head. Death catches all of us sooner or later.

Teri set the box back in its hiding place and walked into the kitchen for a cup of mint tea. Questions nagged at her, but she knew her grandma had said everything she had meant to say. Teri thought once more of the ominous box and shuddered, trying to force her grandma’s cryptic words from her mind.

Chapter One

Now…

Sunlight streamed through windows, glaring off the gleaming hospital floor. Patches of light mingled starkly with the white linens covering each metal bed. Few colors decorated the sterile walls and the effect was that of a pristine cavern instead of a soothing place of healing. Teri shivered, wrinkling her nose at the heavy antiseptic order permeating the air.

Murmurs emanated from several rooms, the sound punctuated by the creaking wheels as solemn-faced nurses pushed laden medicine carts down the hall.

Teri looked around self-consciously as her rubber-soled sneakers squeaked noisily against the pristine floors. In an attempt to brighten her grandmother’s day, she had worn a bright Native American print blouse with her jeans and moccasin boots. Irene enjoyed bright colors. Teri yawned, more from emotional fatigue than any physical tiredness. Watching her grandmother struggle with lung cancer drained her, and things had only grown worse over the past eight months.

Turning out of habit, she read the nameplate by the door and saw that it still said Irene Richards. For the first few months of her grandmother’s treatment, the hospital had played a game of musical rooms, so Teri now checked the nameplate each visit. She walked into the room and saw her grandmother lying on the bed, dressed in a gown that looked huge on her tiny frame. A few wisps of white hair framed her wrinkled face, and sunken eyes, far too knowing for Teri’s peace of mind, watched Teri cross the room.

Stopping by the bed, Teri leaned over the rail and gave her grandmother a peck on the cheek. At the action, a small smile crossed the woman’s thin lips.

Good morning, grandmother. Did you sleep well? Teri asked, trying to be cheerful. She wished that she could decorate the room with beautiful flowers and bright colors, but the staff forbade it. Pollen and perfumes worsened her grandmother’s symptoms, although she still loved the colorful blooms.

Teri watched her fiddle with the oxygen tube, and she lightly placed her own hand over her grandmother’s. With a sigh, Irene seemed to settle down.

I slept, her grandmother replied. Slowly, Teri looked up as a nurse walked into the room.

With only a cursory glance at Teri, the nurse, an efficient-looking young woman in her mid-thirties, walked over to the bed. The nurse barely nodded at Teri; after so many months caring for Irene, Teri had become a fixture in the room. Day after day she sat next to Irene’s bed, a tiny ray of hope amid the bleak sterile surroundings. The nurses had ceased to notice her, and after eight straight months of being in and out of the hospital, Teri had the routine committed to memory.

How is she? she asked after the nurse charted something on a clipboard.

Irene is doing as well as we can expect for someone in the advanced stages of lung cancer, the nurse replied, then gave her patient a soft smile. Behave yourself. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.

Her grandmother managed a feeble chuckle that quickly made her gasp for breath. Irene raised a hand to her chest, as if to steady herself. An instant sense of panic threatened to overwhelm Teri, but she quickly banked the emotion.

Suddenly, Irene clutched at Teri’s hand, gasping.

Grandma? Teri asked. Irene wheezed in reply and a pale shade of blue began to spread over her features.

Teri dropped her grandmother’s hand and yelled into the hallway. Nurse! Help! My grandma can’t breathe! she cried.

Teri thanked the deities that the nurse stood just across the hall, because the woman raced into the room, calling to her colleagues around the corner. Teri squeezed her grandmother’s hand tighter.

Her grandmother clenched her fingers, and Teri felt fingernails digging into her skin. Irene coughed, gasping for air, and the shade of blue covering her features darkened.

Remember…the…box, her grandmother begged between gasps for air.

I will, grandmother. I will. Death hovered in the room, and from the corner of her eye, she almost saw the black-cloaked specter astride his pale horse. More nurses ran into the room.

Teri watched as her grandmother gasped one final time and then, suddenly, went limp. Teri clutched her grandmother’s hand and held it to her heart as silent tears streamed down her face.

Grandma? Grandma? she cried. Say something. Oh Goddess, no, Grandma! Please wake up.

The reality of death slammed into Teri. Eight months of agony had only postponed the inevitable. Ever since she had found out her grandmother had lung cancer, Teri had tried to deny her grandmother’s impending death. Standing beside the hospital bed, she silently willed her grandmother to speak.

I’m sorry, the nurse said in a soft voice. Irene’s dead. We had a DNR order.

I know that, Teri snapped. Damn it, I know she’s dead. She knew the nurse meant well, but her anchor in life had suddenly gone, and she felt herself spinning in the void her grandmother had left in her heart. Thoughts of reincarnation and the afterlife failed to offer consolation.

She gently placed her grandmother’s hand on the bed, and then bent over to give her grandma a parting kiss. Safe journeys, she whispered, before wiping away her tears.

A doctor walked into the room. He paused by the bed and began to pull the sheet over the body. Teri couldn’t watch. She strode from the room, blind to everything but her grief. Teri sagged into a chair by the nurse’s station, knowing she couldn’t drive home in her condition. The nurse exited the room and walked over to Teri.

The nurse knelt beside her and looked at her with eyes full of compassion. Are you going to be okay? she asked.

Teri sniffed. I’ll have to be. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it this soon. I knew grandma was going to die, but didn’t expect it to be today. Teri wiped at a lone tear. I’ll be fine. She isn’t in pain now.

The nurse smiled a sympathetic smile. Nobody expects it to happen today. She patted Teri’s hand. Irene was a fine woman. The staff will miss her.

Thanks, Teri said. The nurse stood and walked back to her conference room. Teri heard the intercom page a doctor as she stood and walked over to the nurse’s station to sign forms.

~* * *~

Outside, the clear afternoon promised life and Teri tilted her face to it, as if she could will it to grant life back to her grandmother. It had taken nearly two hours to finally get her out of that cold hospital, and all the while, she’d looked out the window, wishing she were somewhere else. Out here, the sun shone down from an almost cloudless sky, casting its life-giving rays onto the earth, and a slight breeze ruffled the treetops. People walked past her and bicyclists roamed the streets. The June day seemed made for lazy summer fun, not grief.

Without watching for traffic, Teri crossed the street. A horn blared behind her, but she paid no attention as she walked into the parking ramp. Once in the elevator, she mindlessly pushed the button for the third floor. A few moments later, the doors slid silently open. Spotting her car, she walked to it, then leaned against the car. I’m alone. Goddess help me, I’m alone.

Teri opened the car door and stood there, staring blankly at nothing. Moments later, she slid slowly behind the wheel. Burying her face in her hands, she burst into tears again and wondered if the pain would ever end.

~* * *~

Sage looked around the corner at the hospital. Damn it, I lost him again. For four long years, he had chased the criminal across the country, to Paris and Moscow, then back to the same city where he had died. Lu-Marc had spoken with every petty warlord whose name had been on the list of potential buyers for US secrets that Kyle had been carrying in the second envelope Lu-Marc had mistakenly taken. That information was even worse than the secrets Kyle would have sold. With the weapons secrets, Lu-Marc might have perpetrated a single act of terror. With the list, he was building an empire. He had to stop Lu-Marc before it was too late. And, just as Sage with his entire being sought Lu-Marc’s demise, so did Lu-Marc seek to be a God. This time, Sage swore, his empire is going to fall. I don’t care what it takes. I am finishing this mission.

Sage caught sight of Lu-Marc as he disappeared into the hospital and followed him inside and up the stairs. Even after four years, it amazed him that the living didn’t notice as he ran past them. The wake of his passing sent cool air towards a woman with her arms full of flowers. A bemused frown crossed her lips, then she shook her head and gave a dirty look to the air conditioning vent above her head.

Lu-Marc raced through a door marked General Medicine. Sage was only seconds behind. In the lobby, he stopped, looking at the four hallways that merged into the large waiting room, and wondered which corridor Lu-Marc had disappeared down. Behind him, he heard a loud clap, almost like thunder.

You! A strong, female voice reverberated through the room.

Sage looked around. Who said that? His eyes came to rest on an old woman, and despite the shapeless hospital gown draped on her frail figure, she radiated power. He instinctively knew she was like him, an astral body and a ghost.

What do you want? Sage asked, slightly impatient. He glanced down the hall, searching for Lu-Marc.

I’ve been looking for you, the woman said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Who are you? Have you seen a man running this way? Sage asked.

I’m Irene Richards and I haven’t seen anyone running past. Who are you, young man?

Sage Kaimoon. He waved his hand to dismiss her. Look, I don’t know who you are, but there is a French traitor running loose who I have to catch.

Look after my granddaughter, Irene said. She shimmered and left.

Shocked, Sage looked around. What happened to her? He had never seen a spirit demonstrate those powers. Is that the way Saint Peter takes you?

Still shaken, he looked around and frowned. Lu-Marc was long gone. That old woman had cost him vital time.

Sage questioned her final words. Why should I look after her granddaughter? He scarcely needed to bother himself with a child; he had a traitor to catch. Shrugging his shoulders, Sage hit the elevator button.

Even after four years, he still felt the need to use mortal transportation, not wanting to see if he could drift down to the ground. Ending his astral existence as road-kill wasn’t his idea of a good time. The elevator buzzed open, and no one noticed him as he stepped inside.

Some fool child, a woman waiting for an elevator muttered under her breath.

Sage smiled, remembering that as a child, he had liked to hit the button to send the elevator to an unknown floor when he exited.

He stepped into the main lobby. Walking unnoticed past patrons, he strolled through the automatic doors to step outside. Cars, pedestrians, and bicycles met his roving eye. Sage smiled again.

He walked toward the parking ramp, knowing Lu-Marc liked the dark atmosphere. As he stepped inside the concrete structure, he heard the sound of a woman sobbing uncontrollably. The noise tugged at Sage’s heart, and never one to resist a woman’s pain, he searched for the source.

Deciding the sobs emanated from a level above him, Sage ran to the stairs. His feet skimmed the cement as he raced toward the woman, and as the levels rose, so did the woman’s volume. He stopped on the third floor, hearing her more strongly now.

The sounds came from nearby, and Sage, more cautious this time, walked across the parking area. A sense of unease filled him. The sobs might be real or they might mask a clever trap set by his enemy.

Sage walked down the line of cars and found her sitting in a faded blue compact car. Rust had formed around the fenders, and Sage shook his head at the decrepit condition of the car.

She held her head in her hands, her long, dark chestnut hair spilling over the steering wheel. Her slight build made him think a strong wind could