“No one here cares.”
With a nod, she said, “You’re right. Of course no one cares what I’m saying. And it sounds crazy, but I think, maybe, if ghosts exist, I have one in my house.”
Somehow that wasn’t what he had expected her to say. He had thought it would have something to do with her ex-husband, not a restless spirit. Feeling a flicker of intrigue that it could somehow be Camille, he said, “Really? What happened?”
Her expression was uneasy and she lowered her voice. “Something, an object, moved in my bedroom while I was outside on the balcony. I had this thing put away in the nightstand and when I came in, it was sitting on my bed. A stuffed animal that belonged to ... my sister. It . . . it was like whoever they are they were trying to comfort me.”
Huh. Comfort wasn’t Camille’s style. She would have watched an infant tumble into the dirt and just stared at it in curiosity, a self-protective trait he had to assume came from losing her family. Felix had only met Camille once before the fever outbreak, and she had seemed thoughtful and proper then. It was only after her family had died, when she’d been stripped of her security and love, that she’d had no compassion.
If it wasn’t Camille in the house, it was probably just one more lost spirit wandering around. “I see. I believe that’s possible. So you think the spirit is benevolent?”
She hesitated, but then nodded. “Yes, I do. There was no bad feeling attached to it, you know what I mean?”
“So you don’t want it removed? Because if you ever feel it’s become malicious, I can exorcise it.”
Her eyes went wide. “You can do that?”
“Sure.” Evil be gone. It was an old tenet of voodoo, and with his power, it actually worked. For other people. Not for himself. Never for himself. There was no spell to undo his connection to evil.
“I don’t think so. Not yet. I just want to wait and see.” She laughed nervously. “If I have the guts. I ran out of there like someone yelled fire last night.”
Felix wasn’t sure what to think. Maybe it was just a regular old haunt. But maybe it was something more, maybe it was Camille. But he wouldn’t know unless he went to the house, and he wasn’t about to do that unless Regan was truly scared. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, let me know. There are some spirits that will drain your energy, your peace of mind, your ability to sleep, like a spiritual anvil around your neck. You don’t want that.”
“Geez, no, I don’t want that. Thanks.” Smoothing the hairs back along her temple, Regan picked up her coffee and sipped it. “But I’m sorry, I didn’t drag you here to whine about weird goings-on in my house. I wanted to ask you about the journal I found.”
“Very clever of you to find it. It’s been hidden for a long time obviously.” And very clever of Camille to keep the journal from him. He wouldn’t have approved of her writing down his spells, their liaisons. It must have amused her that last night to know that he was standing right next to the hidden journal. He could even hear her laughter, see her saucy smile.
“Here it is.” Regan pulled the journal out of her bag and handed it to him with a nervous smile. “It’s probably a good thing you’re not drinking coffee. I want to be very careful not to damage it.”
Felix took it reluctantly. He needed to know, needed to see whether he was mentioned at all or not, but the yellowed pages sucked him back into the past as he flipped through them, and the past was a place he never wanted to return. “What is it you want to know?”
“I want to understand voodoo, why she was doing it. And if these are legitimate spells.”
“All spells are legitimate if the person using them believes in them.”
F is coming over tonight. Finally. The time is here.
Guilt crashed into him, the intensity catching him so off guard that he slammed the book shut in anger.
Regan reacted, jumping a little in her seat at his sharp movement.
It had been a mistake to meet her. There was nothing he could do to help her, and he was putting them both in jeopardy.
“Look. You can’t understand these spells without understanding voodoo. Is that what you really want? Because I can recommend some books for you to read.”
“Really? That would be great” Her cell phone rang in her purse, her ringtone a classical piano piece.
He frowned. “That’s your ringtone?”
“Yes. Sorry.” She was digging around in her purse and checked her Caller ID. “This is my lawyer. Do you mind if I take it?”
“No, go ahead.” Though the ringtone still bothered him. It didn’t sound like her. But then what made him think that he knew a damn thing about Regan?
He didn’t. She was just an average, pretty woman that he knew nothing about and never would.
Because she would never tell him and he would never ask.
Regan tried to ignore the frown on Felix’s face as she answered her phone. It was rude, she knew that, but she had been playing phone tag with her lawyer for two days and she really wanted an update. Besides, she was starting to think it had been pointless to ask Felix to meet her. What could he really tell her about the journal? It was voodoo spells, end of story, and she was feeling a little stupid for wasting his time.
“Hello?”“Hey, it’s Richard. You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?” Lord only knew what Beau had called her now or tried to claim she had done.
“Beau dropped his requests straight across the board. His lawyer says your offer of the condo and the cash settlement is more than generous.”
“Are you serious?” Regan sat straight up, a grin splitting across her face. “Did he sign the papers? Am I actually going to be divorced soon?”
Felix was staring at her, making no secret of listening to her conversation. But she had answered the phone in the middle of their meeting, and besides, she didn’t care if he overheard. The news made her ecstatic. God, she could be divorced in a matter of weeks.
“Yep, he signed the papers. I still don’t trust him, Regan. He’s up to something. But as it stands right now, yes, you’ll be divorced before hurricane season. Hell, you’ll be divorced by the end of the week if I can manage it.”
Make that days. She could be divorced in just a couple of days. Now that was the best news she’d heard in a long time. “That’s fantastic. Thank you, Richard. And really, what could he possibly be up to?” she asked, trying to scoff, hoping it was just Richard being paranoid.