Awakened with a Touch Read online

  She knew better than to enter the house where John could get his hands on her, so there was very little he could do to help with the situation. Giving in to her demands and negotiating a price for it was probably the best solution all around. "It's not going to be easy for you," he warned her.

  "I know that. I hate it. I'm probably going to want to back out and change my mind and hide. Especially when Carson sees what happened in the kitchen. I can't stand that bitch," she said. Her tone reeked of self-pity; she was already dreading the morning confrontation.

  John cleared his throat, one eyebrow going up. She expected him to comment on the swear but he let it go. He really was trying not to hold her to standards a century off from her time. "You agreed, and you were right. There wasn't much choice, so you're going to have to see it through. I'll help."

  "That's what I'm afraid of," she muttered. With a sigh, she sank down below the tub line until her chin was half-submerged in the water. "You're right, though. Don't let me back out on this, but, um, if you can avoid dragging me out of the bathroom kicking and screaming, I'd appreciate it. I'm not sure how much more embarrassment I can take at this point," she said mournfully.

  He chuckled and shook his head. His shoulder-length hair stuck to his skin, all the curls flattened from the water, and it seemed to frame his handsome face. She knew from experience, though, that it only looked like he was wet. His body wasn't really taking up any space in the tub, and as soon as he willed it, all the water would drop away, leaving him dry. Benefits of being a ghost, she supposed.

  "I don't think it will come to that," he said confidently. The slight smirk curving his lips made it plain that he thought he'd be able to get her to behave without much effort. He was probably right; he had a strong hand and she didn't want to look childish on film.

  They'd both relaxed enough for a pleasant evening together. She spent the time teaching him to play a couple of card games with a deck she'd found in the library. He knew how to play blackjack and poker but he'd never heard of the simple games she knew like War and Go Fish. It passed the time, bridging the span between them and there wasn't much else to do for entertainment other than the obvious, which they'd taken care of in the kitchen earlier, and the television, which tended to bore him easily.

  When she woke in the morning, he had vanished, as was his usual habit. She'd gotten used to it by now, and although she did enjoy his respect for her space, part of her wished he'd stay around for sleepy morning cuddling now and then. Still, she was smart enough to figure out that cuddling would likely escalate into sex. With the team coming in every morning, getting a late start was the last thing she needed.

  She sighed and got out of bed before she was tempted to roll back over for another hour of sleep. She'd made a decision during the night; it was time to call her grandmother and discuss what was happening. Her worries about that conversation nearly eclipsed her dread in discussing the kitchen scene with the professor and his assistants. Jerome, at least, would be kind about it, but Carson…

  And now she was standing in the kitchen, a few feet away from where she'd had her most explicit scene on camera yet, stalling to avoid talking to the wisest woman she knew. The only one who likely had any insight on her situation at all. She knew she wasn't going to find approval from her, but she hoped for something. Some sense of empathy for what she was going through, and maybe some advice that would help her make up her mind.

  She had no intention of filling her grandmother in on the changes to her contract and what they meant. Her grandmother knew the basic details of the job, or as much as she'd known herself before arriving, but there was no way in hell she was going to go into detail about Elizabeth's new plans. Staring at the kitchen table while she talked was going to be hard enough without casually dropping her new adult film career into the conversation.

  Sighing, she deliberately turned her back on that side of the room and pulled the phone off its wall cradle. It was an old-fashioned phone, complete with a long, coiled cord that would stretch the length of the kitchen. She'd never used one, just seen them in old reruns of television shows. She figured it had been here when Elizabeth bought the house, and she'd left it when she realized, as April had, that cell phones didn't work well or reliably in the house. Even cordless phones, the professor had mentioned, tended to cut out.

  He had a theory about it having something to do with the psychic energy that filled the mansion, but all she knew was that it made contact with the outside world a pain in the ass. There was something satisfying about having the cord to play with, though. As the phone rang, she wrapped the coils around her arms, tugging, stretching, and, in general, working out her nervousness with it.

  It was soothing in a way, but when her grandmother answered the phone, that calm vanished. "Appo? It's April," she said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. When she'd been little, she hadn't been able to say Appo'si', the word for grandmother, so she'd shortened it to Appo and it had stuck.

  "April! I was expecting you to call before now. I've had a feeling." There was worry in her voice. Her grandmother's feelings were usually reliable, even more so than her own.

  "Sorry I didn't call sooner, Appo. Things haven't been going the way I thought they would, and it's been…I'm really in over my head," she admitted. She sighed, leaning against the wall with her head tilted so that her straight black hair swung forward to hide her face like a curtain. The cameras were picking up every word she was saying, which made it even more awkward.

  "I suspected there were going to be problems with this. Chepota, I did warn you that one day you'd regret not learning," she said, lightly scolding, but always practical, she moved past the I-told-you-sos quickly. "How can I help?"

  "I'm not sure you can. To be honest, I'm not even sure I can explain what's going on, but I'll try in a second. First, how's mom?" April asked, not bothering to hide the yearning in her voice. She so badly wanted to be with them.

  Her grandmother snorted. "Foshi is fine, getting much stronger and complaining enough for ten people. I told her, if she yelled at me one more time, I'd roll her bed out into the yard for the crows to peck her."

  As April laughed, a sudden sparkle of tears came to her eyes, surprising her. Her mother and grandmother bickered constantly but it was filled with love. "Sounds like mom. The crows wouldn't dare peck at her, though."

  "She's too stringy and tough," her grandmother said with a vicious cackle. "But you didn't call to hear about that. Tell me about your ghost problem. I was waiting for your call."

  For a moment, April said nothing and then, like a dam breaking, words began pouring out of her mouth in a torrent. She had to start at the very beginning. Even though her grandmother knew about the job offer and the extraordinary amount of money it contained, there was a lot she didn't know, because April hadn't learned the real story until after she'd arrived. She corrected that now with a detailed report of everything that had happened right up until the moment she met John. From there, she went more carefully. "I thought—"

  "He was alive?" her grandmother finished. "Yes, that can happen at times. Spirits can attach themselves to a person or place and draw power from them. The stronger they are, the more real they seem."

  "Yeah, well, he seemed pretty real. So real, that, when he grabbed me, I couldn't get away," April said. That got an instant reaction and April wondered if she should have left that part out, too.

  "Did he hurt you?" the woman asked quickly.

  "No, well, yes, actually, he, um—"April had to force herself to get the words out. "He spanked me for being rude and threatening him with a knife." There was a long moment of silence, during which the younger woman imagined all kinds of reactions. What she didn't expect was amused laughter.

  "Glad you find it so funny," she said with an embarrassed huff.

  "Oh, I do. Of all the things a spirit could do, I'd never have expected that. So, he's an old-fashioned kind of guy, hmm?"

  "Yes, very. And like I said, he's
really strong. Enough that I—" She stopped short. What could she say? That she'd fallen in love with him? That she'd had sex with him? She didn't want to deal with the reactions to that on camera.

  "I see." It was a neutral tone, and one of suspicion.

  There was no judgment, but April squirmed anyway. The phone cord twisting, twisting up her arm until it cut off her circulation. They were both quiet for a minute but a glance at the clock told her she didn't have a lot of time before the researchers arrived. "I have to go soon, Appo, and there's a lot more to tell you. I can call you back this afternoon. If I walk down by the gate, I might be able to get a cell signal. Right now, I'm calling from the house and there's not a lot of privacy, if you know what I mean."

  "Ah, right. You told me they'd be recording everything. You're braver than I am. Though, I guess for enough money, most people can be brave. Call me later and we'll talk. In the meantime, please be careful. I've had a feeling that you're in danger there. It's been keeping me up at night."

  "I will be; I promise. Please, tell mom I love her. Talk soon." She hung up quickly before tears could start. She intended to catch the team as they arrived and discuss things with them before they saw the footage, and for that, she needed to look strong, not like she'd just been crying. Slow breathing, a cup of coffee and a piece of toast helped.

  When the trio arrived, they found April sitting on the bottom step waiting for them. "Morning, Dr. Marlowe, Jerome," she said, offering the men a smile. She avoided looking at Carson, though she did notice the tech had changed her short hair. Formerly sleek and as pink as bubblegum, it was now spiked on top and a pretty shade of teal. If it had been anyone else, she'd have complimented her on it, but she didn't have a good relationship with Carson.

  "Good morning, April," Professor Marlowe replied, returning her smile easily. "Ben, please," he added. She still had trouble addressing him as Ben, though he'd reminded her several times. "Anything interesting happen last night?"

  She wasn't surprised it was his first question. As nice as he was, his mind was constantly on the research. It was what they were there for, after all, and the evidence they'd gathered so far could mean great things for him professionally. "Yes, and before you guys check out the tapes, we need to talk," she said. She made a gesture towards the parlor. "Why don't we sit?" she suggested.

  The professor raised an eyebrow in question but acquiesced without comment and turned towards the softly appointed room just off the entrance. They often had their morning briefings in there, anyway. Jerome and Carson were never included in those, however, and both reacted with surprise. Jerome shrugged. "Sure," he said, simply. He wasn't terribly talkative at the best of times.

  Carson, the more vocal and less pleasant of the two, snorted. "Yeah, no thanks. I have work to do," she replied. Her tone, as usual, was biting. She hadn't made it a secret that she was disgusted by April and her paranormal romance, though Jerome had confided it was mostly jealousy over April being the center of so much spectral phenomenon. For Carson, this material was something she could base her whole career around and having to rely on April was grating.

  April frowned as the girl turned on her heel, intending to ignore the request and head straight down the hall to the equipment room. "Carson!" she snapped, raising her voice so that all three of them looked at her.

  "I get it. You hate me. You think I'm a slut. Fine, I don't really care what you think, but if you want to keep working here, you will keep your opinions to yourself and stop being a bitch." April narrowed her eyes until you could barely see a hint of the hazel, her mouth pressed firmly in a line as she finished speaking and waited for a response. She deliberately avoided looking at Jerome, who had pleaded with her to give Carson another chance. She'd done so, but she was finished putting up with the snide comments and behavior.

  "You can't fire me. You're not my boss," Carson snarled. Her lips curled in disdain, making the bangle in her septum ring jingle cheerfully.

  "No, I'm not, lucky for you. But they can't do this without me, and I'm pretty sure they can survive without you. Think about that for a minute and then decide what you want to do," April said firmly. There wasn't the slightest hint of give in her stare, and after a second, Carson cursed and stormed past Jerome into the parlor.

  The temptation to gloat was strong, but April knew it would only escalate the situation so she kept her face neutral as she followed them into the room. She took a seat on an over-stuffed loveseat, because she needed to brace her shaking legs. Confrontation wasn't exactly easy for her, especially in a situation where she felt vulnerable. Supervising office staff wasn't even in the same ballpark.

  She took a deep breath and then forced herself to meet the quizzical (and in one case, surly) expressions of the investigation team. "I went out yesterday with the owner of the house, Elizabeth," she said in case any of them weren't aware. "She discussed some changes she intends to make to…well, to the game she was planning. With everything that's happened, she's decided she wants to take advantage of the situation." She stopped as she tried to work out the best way to explain.

  "Take advantage?" Ben asked, one eyebrow going up in surprise. "I don't understand."

  The professor leaned forward in his chair, looking concerned. Of course, he was probably worried about his research and wondering if the changes would affect the team.

  She hadn't been sure, at first, that she'd even be able to tell the three of them about the new deal. She was bound under a confidentiality clause, and Ms. Hagmaier had stressed the importance of keeping everything quiet. She'd been torn on whether that excluded the team, so she'd gone back over her contract looking for a loophole that would allow her to explain. To her relief, there was a codicil that not only allowed, but required April to inform the team of anything that could affect their research.

  But just to be sure, she asked, "Did the lawyer make you sign a confidentiality clause?" she asked the professor.

  "Yes, we all had to sign," he said, watching her intently. "There were some restrictions about when we could release data, and a stipulation that no reference to the partnership, the owner of the house, or any of her plans be mentioned."

  There was a strained sound of annoyance there that was plain to her ears. He wasn't pleased about it, but it did make things easier for her. She relaxed, telling them should be no problem then, since they wouldn't be allowed to talk about it, either.

  "Is she canceling the investigation?" Carson demanded. She wasn't seated like everyone else, instead, she was leaning over the back of Jerome's chair. Her posture seemed a little possessive, as if she was marking her territory. April ignored the pose, she had no interest in Jerome except as a friend and it was a fair question.

  "No, nothing like that. Everything you guys are doing will continue. She wants as much data and film as possible. She's still doing a horror game like she'd planned. She, uh, she's just working on a different kind of project, as well." April cleared her throat, trying not to sound as embarrassed as she felt.

  When no one asked what kind of project it would be, she was forced to continue without encouragement. "Basically the sex and other stuff was unexpected, but since it happened, is happening, she plans to use it."

  "Oh. I—" For a change, the professor was at a loss for words. He gave her a look full of sympathy. It was obvious she wasn't thrilled about the development; she couldn't hide that. "That is a surprise," he said weakly after a few seconds.

  "Yeah," April said in a low voice, almost a sigh.

  "And, of course, you said yes," the other girl said, a derisive laugh punctuating her words.

  "I said yes, not that I had a choice. My contract allows them to use any and all data they collect here. It allows you all to record every second I'm in the house and everything I do. Any attempt to hide or evade can get my ass kicked out the door," April said with a shrug. Her eyes drifted downwards towards the hands that twisted nervously in her lap.

  "Oh, I'm so sure you hated agreeing to be her sex star,"
Carson said, snorting and rolling her eyes.

  April's head snapped up, eyes flashing as she stared at the teal-haired tech. "I hate it. Hate every fucking second of being filmed in this house! I had no idea what I was getting into when I got here. None! I was a virgin when I got here, Carson. I don't give a fuck if you believe me or not. Turns out? Most guys aren't into spooky psychic chicks. I didn't have a nice guy to help me out and talk people out of firing me," she said in an acid tone. Her eyes flicked to Jerome and she jerked her chin at him.

  "I've always ignored my powers as much as possible. I came because I needed the money, and when I got here, I found—" Her voice dropped until it was barely a whisper. "I found love. I fell in love." She blinked away tears and took a deep breath. Her damp hands flattened out and pressed against her jeans as she rubbed them dry. "So, yeah, at this point, I'll do anything to stay in the house with John, because I love him."

  "April—" The professor reached a hand towards her; though he wasn't sitting quite close enough to touch her; he was trying to offer comfort, not judgment. He'd already guessed something of that nature was going on. He'd tried to warn her but the reality was he had very little advice to offer. He'd known ghosts were real. He'd seen things over the years. Frustratingly, there had never been enough proof to convince people, and some people would probably say even this was fake.

  The idea of a ghost who was both conscious of his situation and corporeal enough to physically love someone was beyond his experience. He didn't want her to be hurt, but he also didn't want to end the most successful investigation of his career. His self interest warred with his conscience, but in the end, who was he to tell her it was impossible? Maybe for her, it really could work out.