The Falcon Tames the Psychic Page 2

  He had way more to do than ruminate on a stranger, attractive or not.

  He’d promised to have this building cleared out before his brother Ryan returned from Boston. He’d be done if he hadn’t put it off for two weeks. Not everything about the old Connor had changed, yet.

  Now, with less than six days to go, this monster mess got worse by the minute. For every ten truck loads he hauled away, twenty seemed to refill the place.

  If he didn’t know better, he was sure the damn sprites had something to do with it. It had been a long, long time since they’d singled him out, but this had all the earmarks of their old game.

  He shoved a box into the last available niche in the truck bed, then pulled a tarp over the whole jumbled pile. Before locking the building, Connor took a photo of the contents then waved the phone in an arc.

  “For the record, don’t even think about putting anything else in this truck, or anything back in that building. Got it?”

  Even though he was a shifter living in a magical town, he had no real way to back up a threat to his unseen nemesis. They didn’t need to know that.

  It was worth the effort to put a little scare into them.

  ~*~

  Minutes after unlocking the door to her room at the Gingerbread Inn, and without bothering to unpack, Brianna undressed, tossed her clothes on the bed and went straight to the shower. Savoring every sweet moment, she let the hot water run through her hair and down her back.

  For a whole month, she wouldn’t worry about borrower roommates.

  After towel drying and slipping into a pair of jeans and a blouse, she sat cross-legged on the chenille bedspread and examined the little photo. It had to be her father. Behind him was the building where she’d found the picture, and the same little footpath that she’d followed, though the plants looked much healthier.

  The child held the serious no-nonsense look that her father always wore.

  Brianna wondered who took this picture. His mother? Was it for a special occasion? And why wasn’t his little sister in the picture?

  She tucked it into her portfolio then turned her attention to the snow globe.

  Almost worn away on the base were the words, Souvenir of Nocturne Falls. Inside was a painted miniature rock falls. Brianna tipped it over, then upright, taking care with this one as she wasn’t sure how old it was.

  Mesmerized, she watched the tiny flakes float to the bottom. Then something weird caught her eye.

  No.

  She shook her head. She was more tired than she realized. She put it on the bed stand and unpacked. But the globe drew her like a magnet. No indication that it was battery-operated. Just a simple snow globe and not a nightlight.

  She tipped it over and waited.

  As sure as sunrise, water flowed over the falls.

  It had to be lighting effects on the paint. It was too old to be a computer toy. Something else had to explain it.

  She held the globe up to the waning sunlight through the window.

  As she predicted, nothing moved inside it. Imagination again. Must be triggered by her hunger.

  Time to grab something to eat and explore the town. After a good night’s sleep, she’d rethink a plan B. Or was it plan C at this point?

  Too bad Echo Stargazer wasn’t here. She’d like to meet her. But that meant everyone would know who Brianna was. It would be easier to snoop around if nobody knew.

  There was a story here somewhere. It was up to her to crack it wide open.

  Chapter Three

  Big Daddy Bones barbeque was a touch of heaven on a checked tablecloth.

  Sometimes eating alone in a restaurant had its advantages. Brianna jumped head first into her meal with no concerns about that date-politeness and baby-bird appetite stuff.

  The ribs were so tender they fell off the bone. The loaded baked potato dribbled sour cream and butter. Brianna didn’t care what anyone thought. She ate that baby, crispy peel and all. And a side of fresh green beans with a touch of ham hock was divine.

  The Gingerbread Inn proprietor’s restaurant recommendation had been spot on.

  LA indulged every foodie whim on the planet, and local eateries in Portland were outstanding. But nothing compared to this meal, except everything that came from her mother’s kitchen.

  Food this good always prompted her to try her hand at cooking. Thankfully, the thought always passed before causing any long-lasting commitments to the kitchen.

  As the server cleared the table, she offered a dessert menu.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite.” Somewhat true. She could chow down on a slice of peach cobbler if she was so inclined. But her expanding waistline disinclined. Tomorrow she’d find a running trail.

  Dusk faded into night and the streetlights turned the already quaint town into a wonderland. With illuminated storefronts and people everywhere dressed in costumes, the whole town held an aura of fantasy.

  Funny how her father had never mentioned any of this. She was tempted to go inside every store and start asking questions, but not on the first night. She’d use this evening to get a feel for the town.

  She crossed the main square bordered by giant concrete gargoyles and could have taken an oath in court that one of them winked at her.

  Another impossibility. She turned back once for a double-take, but the stone statue stared forward, unmoving.

  Ahead was a sign for The Poisoned Apple. What a stitch. Everything in town had the cutest name.

  A glass of Chardonnay meant another half-mile added to her next run. Who cared?

  Inside, the pub had an old-fashioned tavern atmosphere with its dark paneling, deep green paint, and luscious leather upholstery. Rather than sit in a booth, she chose a seat at the bar.

  As she sipped the pleasing, fruity wine, she asked a few subtle questions of the bartender but didn’t get deep, revealing answers. Perhaps the townspeople knew better than to say anything that would tip off a stranger.

  She’d have to be crafty to work this story. The ‘gee-golly-gosh-I’m-family’ card would be the last one she’d play. If she got this right, she might even open the door to her father’s heart.

  The sober little boy staring out from that photo still dug under her skin. A smile from him was rare and hard won, even today.

  She scooted her barstool a little to allow room for someone to sit next to her. The scent of bay rum cologne wafted her way. Not overpowering. Just nice. Pretending to focus on her phone, she cast a slant eye stare at the man.

  Nice khakis. A form fitting T-shirt hugged a toned torso.

  “Evening, Brianna. Anyone sitting here?”

  Connor from the Carpe Diem? She didn’t mind, though there were other free stools at the bar. The bartender placed a pint of stout in front of him without a word. He must be a regular.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Connor offered another handshake. Surprised at how gentle his grip was, she was pleased at how he lingered this time. Mr. Backward Hat had disappeared. This was one classy maintenance man.

  She snuck a quick look at her chest. Oh, great. A fine time for the girls to snap to attention. And a bad idea to wear a gauzy top. Tightening her arms to her sides, she clasped her hands together on the bar.

  “Everything going okay so far?” His soft-spoken, deep voice was pleasant, and much friendlier than before. What did she expect earlier? After all, she had overplayed the role of nosy tourist.

  “Yes. I’m staying at the Gingerbread Inn. It’s quite nice.” Brainless dodo. Never tell a strange guy at a bar where you’re staying. What was she thinking?

  “Good choice. I’m Connor Ford. I don’t believe I caught your full name.”

  His piercing eyes sharpened. He might be hitting on her, though she doubted it. Either he was genuinely nice, or she was under the spell of a half-glass of wine.

  What the heck. Why not tell him her real name? No one around here likely knew her family anymore, especially someone
young like Connor.

  Her grandmother, Echo, had changed her last name to Stargazer. Brianna’s father and his sister left town a long time ago.

  “Brianna Putnam.” There. She said it and he didn’t seem shocked or alarmed.

  “Sorry if I sounded rude earlier,” he said.

  “I guess it seemed pretty bold to sit on the porch swing.”

  Connor glanced over his shoulder and down the line of people seated at the bar. He must be waiting for someone. Wonder what type of woman he dated? He seemed the long, lean brunette type.

  And not short and less-than-lean blondes.

  She squeezed her curls. “If you need this seat when they get here, I’m leaving soon,” she said.

  His eyebrows raised as his head cocked to one side. “When who gets here?”

  “I just thought. Aren’t you looking for someone?” She touched her lips to the rim of her glass but didn’t take a drink fearing she’d choke on the wine.

  “Not me. Thought maybe you were,” he said.

  She finished the sip and sure enough, the liquid went down the wrong pipe.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  She nodded as she coughed.

  “Raise both arms over your head. That clears it every time,” he said.

  Ah, not such a good idea in this blouse. “Maybe…some…water?”

  Connor motioned to the bartender. A few sips and Brianna was fine.

  “Are you on vacation?” Connor asked.

  “Yes. A friend told me about this town.”

  “What do you think so far?”

  “From what I can tell, it’s interesting.”

  His hearty laugh was infectious but all she managed in return was a weak smile.

  “Good word to describe it,” he said.

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “My whole life.”

  Her first lead. Now to weave in some subtle questions.

  “I’ve never seen or heard about a place like this, outside a theme park. Is it like this all year?” She asked.

  “You mean Halloween? Twenty-four seven. Three sixty-four.” He sipped his beer. “I’ve never understood why so many people flock here.”

  Spoken like a true townie. He might prove to be an excellent ally.

  “So, if you’re from here, I guess you know everyone,” she said.

  He nodded and motioned his empty glass to the bartender.

  “Would you like another glass of wine? On me,” Connor said.

  Brianna rarely had more than one, but she felt like she had him on a roll and didn’t want to lose the momentum. If she drank water between sips of wine she should be okay.

  Letting him pay didn’t seem fair. He obviously worked hard for his money.

  “Yes, but I’ll get my own,” she said.

  ~*~

  Ian, the bartender, shot Connor a wide-eyed ‘are you kidding?’

  Connor returned a silent warning not to go there. It was a rare day for a Nocturne Falls woman to buy her own drink when he was around. This woman obviously wasn’t from here.

  Kind of nice for a change.

  The bigger puzzle was why an attractive woman was sitting alone.

  An hour later and finished with her second glass of wine, Brianna hadn’t told him anything more than she lived in LA and was here on vacation.

  No denying that Nocturne Falls was a great place for tourists. But a world-class singles’ travel destination? Not-so-much.

  Of course, Connor had a way of talking more than listening. Maybe his constant voice overs didn’t give her a chance.

  About to give up on her, he remembered how Crealde was as real to her as this pint of stout on the bar. Only a supernatural could see that invisible behemoth cat.

  “I should be going. It’s been a long day,” she said.

  “Any questions about the town I might answer?”

  She paused a moment and turned her head toward him giving him an opportunity to see her gorgeous big blue eyes.

  “Is there someplace where I might learn more history? Travel sites don’t give much detail other than restaurants and places to stay,” she said.

  Imagine that. Nothing on the Internet about the vampire family that founded the town? Or the beautiful mermaid he dated once. Or the exotic fortune teller at the hair salon. Or the falcon-shifter Ford family.

  “There’s a library,” he said.

  After she had left, Connor ordered another pint.

  Ian took Brianna’s empty glass and wiped the bar. Under a wad of napkins, he retrieved a silver infinity bracelet. “Before you got here, she had this thing going like a fidget toy. She’s one spooky chick.”

  Connor sputtered into his glass as he laughed. Spooky chicks abounded here, and Ian had seen his share.

  “How was this one different?” Connor asked.

  “A barrage of questions about the Carpe Diem. And she asked about Echo Stargazer like she was a concerned friend. She wanted to know if Echo was sick. Seemed strange but maybe it’s just me.”

  “Maybe.”

  Why didn’t Connor drop this? She was a curious tourist on vacation and would be gone in a few days. But this fascination with the Carpe Diem was peculiar, especially since Echo had disappeared two months ago.

  “Something else.” Ian leaned toward Connor. “I didn’t think much about it at the time. Thought it was a coincidence. I pulled a back muscle last night hauling kegs.”

  “And?”

  “She asked if I’d tried a cold pack on it.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Good advice.”

  “I never said anything about my back.”

  ~*~

  Brianna leaned on the headboard and braced her laptop computer on her thighs. With a light buzz from the wine, she’d almost floated along the sidewalk.

  The bedside lamp bathed the room with a homey glow. Lace curtains, overstuffed pink upholstered chair, and the white enameled armoire made her feel like a princess in one of her favorite stories.

  All she needed was a knight in shining armor.

  Sleep seduced her, but she had to submit her daily report, a condition of getting this assignment. Aside from wandering around her grandmother’s weedy garden, having a fantastic meal and meeting Connor Ford, there wasn’t more to say.

  Usually able to figure out a man soon after meeting him, and especially after one drink, this one was an enigma. Dressed like a maintenance man before, then this evening like he was ready to party. Probably one of those who lived for quitting time so he could head out with his buddies.

  He seemed nice but he wasn’t much help about Nocturne Falls, aside from suggesting the library. Connor had yammered more about his brother’s woodworking than anything personal.

  She held the photo and stared into the little boy’s face looking for anything that explained his dark memories of Nocturne Falls. And maybe something that might help her understand his obsessive protection of his children.

  Part of it was over his daughter’s health. Brianna had missed half of first grade with recurring headaches. For a solid year, she lived wondering when they would hit. Her head would burn like fire. Then the disturbing thoughts and thinking she heard people talking to her.

  She’d had brain scan after scan. No physical answers. She’d even been to a child psychiatrist who confirmed she was a normal little kid. How were debilitating headaches normal?

  Then the week of Brianna’s eighth birthday, a small package arrived in the mail from her grandmother, Echo Stargazer. Her parents had argued over letting her open it, but her mother won.

  Under a layer of brown wrapping paper, Brianna discovered a small, pink jewelry box with a shiny silver bracelet. Inscribed on the inside, Forever in My Heart.

  It had fit her tiny wrist perfectly, and with each growth spurt, the bracelet somehow adjusted.

  And the sick headaches disappeared, along with the voices.

  Traveling,
time changes and the wine had caught up with her. The Chardonnay’s pleasant lightness was quickly being replaced with the first twinges of a headache.

  Instinctively, she gripped her wrist, bolted upright, and shoved her sleep shirt sleeve up to her elbow. Throwing back the down comforter, she ran her hand over the mattress and under the pillow.

  On her hands and knees, she looked under the bed.

  Retracing her steps to the bathroom, she scanned the floor, dresser, and sink counter.

  She dumped her purse on the bed and sifted through the contents.

  The bracelet was gone.

  Chapter Four

  “I’m sorry Miss Putnam, but nobody’s turned in anything like that,” the Inn’s proprietor said the next morning. ‘I’ll call Big Daddy’s. Bet they have it.’

  “I had it on after dinner. You don’t need to call the restaurant.”

  “How’d you know that’s what I was going to do?”

  The dumbfounded expression the proprietor wore was the same as the bartender’s when she suggested a cold pack on his back.

  Hadn’t these people spoken to her?

  Or had these been voices in her head?

  Was it starting all over?

  Brianna grabbed an espresso at the Hallowed Bean hoping it would knock out her roaring headache.

  Her boss’s answer to her quick report last night had been terse and to the point. ‘Get more.’

  That meant a long day digging into library resources and interviewing anyone who walked across her path. No time for pain or phantom voices.

  She’d walked right past the Inn’s attractive array of breakfast foods, none of which appealed to Brianna’s queasy stomach.

  Nor did an investigation into this little town in North Georgia. What had she been thinking? Was a job promotion in a tabloid run by an editor that reminded her of a wild bull, worth the effort?

  She’d put her career on the line chasing after her father’s bitter memories.

  Besides, that photo might not even be her father. What if she’d agonized for the last eighteen hours over a picture of someone else?