Page 29 of Broken Moon

“Sometimes,” I chattered, as Iput away my kit and pulled some pjs from a drawer, “people have unfinishedbusiness—usually revenge or the consuming need to tell someone something dire—”

He flew at me, his eyes wideand mouth gaping, and somewhere in my mind, I could actually hear himscreaming.

“Okay,” I said calmly, waitingfor my heartbeat to slow, “I understand. You need to tell me something important.”And I started guessing, even as I undressed and climbed into the shower. Iwasn’t shy around dead people. If I had been, I’d never have gotten clean. Icontinued guessing as I toweled off and changed into my pajamas. The firstthing I asked was if he’d been murdered and he knew where his body was.Surprisingly enough, there were a lot of those.

I asked if someone else hadbeen murdered, someone close to him, and he needed to take me to the body. Noreaction.

He was young, early twenties,and because of that, maybe, I didn’t ask the one question I usually asked earlyon, and I didn’t ask it until I was sitting down at the dinner table, gobblingthe most delicious foods I’d ever tasted. Lucille walked into the room,yawning. “I hope it’s not all cold,” she said.

“No, no,” I mumbled, my mouthfood. “Good. So good.”

There were two steaks, threebaked potatoes, warm bread, salad with just enough goodies in it to make meinterested, and the largest apple pie I’d ever seen. There was a big bowl greenbeans with bacon and onion, thick slices of ham, and a platter of perfectlygolden onion rings.

I was in heaven.

“Is it your child—” I startedto ask, after I’d inhaled half a baked potato.

He slammed his ghostly ass downon my plate—on myplate—and got in my face. His eyes were wild as hegesticulated and silently screamed and begged me to help. To figure it out.

“I don’t have a child,” Lucysaid. “I told you before I moved in that—”

“No, no,” I said, spearing agreen bean through the dead guy’s leg, “I’m not talking to you. There’s aspirit in the room asking for my help.” I didn’t mind her knowing, for somereason. Lucille Shannon inspired trust, at least in me. Also, she apparentlysaw things herself, in her dreams. Though I’d kept my secret for years, itwasn’t the same as outing myself as a wolf. Hell, even the police knew Icommunicated with spirits—not that most of them believed it. That wasn’t a bigdeal. Being a vampire or a shifter, though, that was an entirely differentthing.Thatwas a secret I’d keep.

She made a perfect o with hermouth, and her eyes grew just as round. “What?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thegirl who has spooky dreams is afraid of ghosts?” I took a drink of water. “I’mgoing to call him Jim. Makes things easier.”

“What does Jim want?” she asked,her voice hushed. “What is he saying? Where is he?” She cut a slice of pie andbegan eating quickly, as though she were too excited to just sit there doingnothing.

“I can’t hear him. It’s rarethat I can hear what they say although…”

She stared at me, her cheeksbulging with pie. “Yeah? Although?”

“When a certain type of persondies, I can hear them.” I couldn’t tell her that ‘certain type of person’ was awolf. I’d heard my former alpha’s mate after she’d died and come to me. Ofcourse, I’d been a ten-year-old child then and maybe I’d changed as I’d grownolder. No dead wolves had come to me since, so I really didn’t know.

That had been a fun time. Onlynot really.

He’d been full of grief atlosing not just his wife, but his mate. Wolves could marry and have significantothers without ever finding their honest to God fated mate. But Adam Thorne hadfound his. Her death had been a blow he had never really recovered from, andwhen she’d come to me and insisted I go to him with a message, I hadn’thesitated.

I’d never told another livingsoul about that encounter. Not even my mother or father knew I couldcommunicate with the spirits of the deceased, and I’d never told either of themabout my visit from our dead female alpha.

Her message had been succinct.“Tellhim this exactly. There is no promise. Only threat.”

Then she’d disappeared and I’dnever seen her again. The alpha had been angry at me. Disgusted. And so veryhateful. I didn’t think he’d believed me when I’d told him she’d come to me—Ionly knew that from that moment on he seemed to hate me. He’d lost the love ofhis life and maybe he’d thought I was messing with him.

The details had grown fuzzyover the years, but I still remembered how he’d watched me after that, watchedme with a darkness that had made me lower my gaze and run away every time Ifound myself near him.

Two years later, he’d killed myfather and banished me from the pack.

I believed, as the doctorbelieved, that he hadn’t banished me just because of my father’s attempt togather followers to help destroy him. I believed he’d never forgiven me fortelling him that I could talk with the dead—worse, his dead mate. The love ofhis life.

The spirit—Jim—had become agitated,and I pushed my plate away to tend to him. “Don’t throw this food away,” I toldLucy. “I’ll be back to finish it off.”

She nodded, darting her eyesaround the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dead man.

I stood and faced him. “Youneed me to find a child. Is it your child?”

“Wait.” Lucy jumped up and ranaround the table toward me, then hesitated, grabbed a chair, and put it betweenher and where she thought the ghost might be. “I had a dream.”