Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(105)

Which was quickly followed by a rush of anxiety.

“Um…” she paused before saying weakly, “Jack.”

He was silent then his tone was cautious when he asked, “What is it?”

“Well…” she began, not knowing how to have her “word” but kind of happy that she was having it on the phone where she didn’t have to watch him blow his stack in person (and before her mother could ask about the car).

“Belle.” His voice was no longer cautious, it held a warning.

“We met Cassandra and Angus today.”

There was more silence, a sigh then, “Angus?”

“The McPherson.”

Jack’s tone was now filled with humour when he asked, “His name is Angus McPherson?”

Belle again thought Jack found the weirdest things funny.

“Yes. Why?”

Jack replied through chuckling, “That’s very Scottish.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Belle muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” Belle said quickly, “Um… I have to tell you something.”

Again with the silence then he said softly, “Anything, my love.”

She felt her belly melt, her heart melt and her mind registered that head over heels love business when she heard his tone and his words.

Both of which made her anxiety fade clean away.

Therefore she told him, “Angus and Cassandra are staying at the castle.”

“That’s fine,” he replied immediately.

Belle blinked before she parroted, “That’s fine?”

“Yes, Belle. We’ve plenty of room. Not to mention if they stay, it’ll save on their expenses.”

Belle was surprised at how easy that was.

She, however, thought it best to forewarn him, “They’re a little bit strange.”

His voice was back to sounding amused. “She’s a clairvoyant witch and he’s a Scottish ghost hunter. I figured they’d be strange, poppet.”

“No, I mean,” Belle took in a breath and said, “they’re really strange.”

“She’s a clairvoyant witch and he’s a very Scottish ghost hunter,” Jack repeated. “I figured they’d be really strange.”

Belle couldn’t help it, she giggled.

Then she gave him the full story. “Cassandra’s doing readings. She thinks there’s a third ghost.”

There was more silence, this longer and far, far heavier.

Finally, he said, “A third ghost.”

“She isn’t sure. She’s doing readings.”

“Readings,” Jack replied.

“I don’t know what that means,” Belle told him. “I’ve been napping but I do know she seemed very keen. Cassandra, I mean. She started straight away.”

Belle decided not to tell Jack that Cassandra was keen in a weird, scary way that made Belle’s heart lodge in her throat. Jack, she figured, probably wouldn’t like that.

“Readings,” Jack muttered again, sounding at a loss.

“Jack?”

She heard him sigh another sigh and then he assured her, “It’s fine, Belle.”

“Yasmin thinks they know what their doing.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yasmin seems pretty certain.”

“Poppet, I said, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“Um…” she muttered again and Jack was silent so Belle forged on, “Angus wears a kilt.” This was met with more silence so she continued, “And hose, ghillie brogues, a sporran, the whole lot.”

She heard him burst into laughter.

It was, she thought, very funny. So, softly, she laughed with him.

“I’ll be home soon,” he repeated when she’d stopped laughing.

“Okay, see you.”

“Good-bye, poppet.”

“’Bye, Jack.”

He disconnected, Belle took the phone from her ear and put it on the nightstand.

She stared at the phone realising she forgot to tell him about Cassandra and her scarves.

She licked her lips and took in a breath through her nose.

Oh well, he didn’t seem overly upset about the rest so Cassandra and her abundant use of accessories probably wouldn’t faze him.

She leaned forward and gave each dog a thorough head rub, saying, “I’m hungry. Let’s see about dinner.”

Baron woofed and Gretl got to her feet and did an excited circle.

Belle got up and walked from the room.

The dogs were at her heels as she made her way down the hall, her mind on her now grumbling belly and wondering how long it would take Jack to fly home.

Therefore, as she reached the top of the stairs, it took her by surprise when both Baron and Gretl closed in and started growling.

She stopped and looked at one dog then the other.

Both were pressing close to her legs, both looking back down their bodies, both had teeth bared.

“What on –” Belle started to say but stopped when movement caught her eye and she looked down the steps.

A young, black-headed boy was racing up them.

Not racing, as in treading, but drifting, swiftly, like a shot.