Celtic Dragons Read online

  Chapter Ten

  Dhara

  It had been three days since Dhara had first contacted Kean and he had confirmed her worst fears about the home that she had been living in. The three nights of restful sleep that she had gotten at the hotel were such a relief that after the first night, Dhara woke in the early morning hours and almost cried, realizing that she had slept straight through the night without incident.

  She had gone to work that day, refreshed and revived, and even Bellamina had noticed a difference, though she hadn’t referenced the house specifically. Dhara had accomplished more in the past few days of work than she had in the two weeks preceding them, and it was tempting to just let herself forget about Kean, the house, and everything that had happened within it.

  But it wasn’t that simple, and after three days, the wonder of living a normal life had begun to wear off and Dhara was desperate for some kind of news. She was already running low on clothing that she had packed to bring with her, and it was strange not to have a refrigerator or a showerhead with reasonable water pressure or a table to sit and work at in the evenings. She couldn’t exist in limbo forever, nor could she just live in denial.

  Kean wasn’t answering her calls though. At least, he hadn’t answered any of the four times she had called him that afternoon, and so she had gone to the library—her next best bet—and checked out every single book she could find on paranormal activity. The library had been dead, aside from her, and Dhara knew that most people would have turned to the Internet instead to read up on everything that was surely there on the subject of the paranormal. But she was old-fashioned, and she didn’t want Wikipedia results. She wanted to read words that people had researched, pored over, and deemed worthy of publication on real, tangible pieces of paper. It grounded her in what her life was based on—knowledge.

  Despite the librarian’s strange looks, Dhara had left the library with bags of books, and now they sat around her on the bed in the hotel room. Chinese takeout shared the space as well, and she occasionally forked a bite of lo mein into her mouth as she turned a page, devouring the information there.

  She was so engrossed in her reading that when her cell phone rang out of nowhere, she screamed, jumping clear off the bed.

  “Dang it, Dhara,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing for her phone. “Pull yourself together.”

  The sight of Kean’s name on her caller ID screen sent little flutters of anticipation through her, and she answered more breathlessly than she’d intended.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Are you okay?”

  She shifted positions, crossing her long legs beneath her. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. How are you? I mean, where are you? I haven’t heard from you in three days.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’d like to talk to you, but in person.”

  “Yes, okay,” she said, agreeing too quickly. “Where?”

  “Where are you now?”

  “My hotel room.”

  “Okay,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “How about there, then?”

  She agreed and gave him the hotel information, then hung up, knowing she had all of ten minutes to clean herself and the room up. Jumping off the bed, she hurried into the bathroom, wincing at the messy bun that she’d twisted her hair up into after work. She quickly pulled it down, sending her dark hair tumbling down around her shoulders, unintentionally falling in soft waves created by the updo she’d improvised. Pinching her cheeks, she added a bit more color to them, but she rarely wore a lot of makeup, so she didn’t do much to fix up her face.

  However, Dhara did change out of the pajamas she had put on when she’d gotten home from the library, instead choosing a pair of torn jeans and a university sweatshirt that proved she wasn’t trying too hard to look good for him but was still cute and flattering. She was just tidying up the books and her leftovers when there was a knock at the door, and she hurried to answer it, wondering in the back of her mind why she was acting like such a schoolgirl over this man. After all, wasn’t the fact that he was solving her paranormal crisis a bit more important than the fact that he was gorgeous?

  Sure, but he’s really, really gorgeous.

  She opened the door, and Kean smiled at her, making Dhara immediately smile back. His smile faded slightly though, and he seemed to hesitate, suddenly unsure of himself.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked quickly.

  “Uh, there’s something in your teeth …” he said it apologetically, like there was no way for him to win. It was embarrassing if he told her and if he didn’t tell her.

  Dhara flushed, but tried not to react as though she was completely humiliated. Why hadn’t she brushed her teeth before he’d gotten there? But she attempted to laugh it off. “Oh, I’m sure. I was eating Chinese takeout and reading. Because it’s Friday night, and I’m very cool.”

  Her casual reaction had its intended effect, and Kean chuckled as he stepped inside, holding up a bag of takeout himself. “Ah, well I presumed to bring dinner, so I guess we know we have similar tastes.”

  “Oh, that’s so nice of you. It smells really good. I wasn’t finished, so I’m still hungry.”

  She was babbling as she waved him into the room, but through mostly-closed lips, trying not to expose her embarrassing tooth issue. As soon as he was inside the room, she hurried to the bathroom, quickly brushing her teeth while staring down her reflection in the mirror, berating her for any number of things, ranging from her oral hygiene to her absolutely irrational behavior toward Kean.

  When she returned to the main area of the room, she saw Kean sorting through the books she had stacked on the bed, a frown on his face.

  “Oh, I’ve been doing some reading,” she explained, running a hand through her hair. “It’s how I cope. Research.”

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “Oh, plenty that’s interesting. I’m not sure what I believe about it all, but it’s certainly interesting.”

  He looked up at her, a strange expression on his face. “Anything particularly interesting?”

  For some reason, she felt more like she was being interrogated than conversed with, and it put her guard up. Suddenly, the girlishness she’d felt was gone, replaced with an intent wariness set off by something in his eyes. “All of it was interesting. Why are you asking me about this? Why haven’t you contacted me in three days?” It was easy to forget, given how quickly she had become comfortable around Kean, but she knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet he had full access to her house and her belongings, and he had disappeared for the past three days.

  Kean seemed to realize that he was coming off strangely, and his expression softened as he stepped away from the books. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to seem strange.” He held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “And I didn’t mean to stay so out of touch. These cases are delicate, Dhara. They have to be handled very carefully.

  “And how, exactly, have you been handling it?”

  He gestured toward the bed, still holding his food. “May I? I’m here to answer that question, I promise. But I’m starving, and I’d love to sit down and talk while we eat. Or at least while I eat.” He offered her a half smile.

  Dhara felt herself relenting slightly, and she nodded, choosing to sit down on the vanity chair, which she pulled up to the edge of the bed. “Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Taking a seat, Kean pulled out several containers, the sweet, spicy scent of hibachi rice mixed with vegetables and teriyaki-coated chicken filled the room, making Dhara’s mouth water, despite the fact that she had just eaten half of her own takeout. Kean speared a piece of chicken with a spork and popped it into his mouth, then offered her a utensil of her own that she accepted.

  “So,” Kean said, as they ate. “I’ve spent a good deal of time at the house over the past few days.”

  “Did you have it cleansed?”

  He smiled a bit. “Research?”

  “It seems to be a typical solution, yes.”

  K
ean shook his head, piling carrots and snap peas onto his spork. “Only in books, usually. I’ve never heard of a case where calling in a priest and having him sprinkle holy water over the floorboards has gotten rid of anything—especially not something as powerful as what is living with you.”

  “So you’ve worked on these cases quite a bit?” Dhara said, keeping her tone casual.

  He glanced up at her, as though trying to read the intent behind her question. Dhara couldn’t understand how they were suddenly circling around each other this way. After all, neither of them had done anything wrong. They were supposed to be on the same team—the anti-spirits-in-Dhara’s-house team.

  “I’ve worked on a number of them, yes,” he finally said. “Look, Dhara, I need to come clean with you. It’s a sensitive subject, particularly because you are a skeptic—which is fine. It’s perfectly fine. But I’ve worked on a lot of these cases, and I believe wholeheartedly that there are paranormal aspects of our world that we interact with on a daily basis, whether or not we know it.”

  He was staring at her, and Dhara stared back for a long moment before finally nodding. “I understand. It makes sense that you would be a sort of expert in this area. A friend of mine, once she saw what happened in my house one night, immediately referred me to you. I guess my only question is …how do you get into this kind of field?”

  Kean again hesitated, stalling by taking several healthy bites of his dinner. “Well,” he said, after a long moment. “To be honest with you, that’s a very personal story, involving my past. I don’t talk about it with anyone, and it’s very important to me that you don’t try to research me.” He met her eyes, searching her gaze. “I know that’s a lot to ask, particularly for you. But it’s a requirement of us continuing to work together.”

  Immediately, every bit of her curiosity was aroused, not just as a scientist, but as a person. Kean was by far the most mysterious man she’d ever met. Nevermind that every time she was in the same room with him, she felt a radiating power so intense that it almost bowled her over. Nevermind that he had such an impact on her that she desperately wanted to be under, above, and all around him. Nevermind that he seemed to know a great deal about a world that she knew absolutely nothing about and had never given any credence to. Now he was plainly telling her that there was something mysterious in his past and that he wouldn’t work with her unless she promised not to try and uncover it.

  It was desperately intriguing, and her fingers itched to turn every page on every book she’d checked out, just to see what she would find. Would she find a reference to him? To something that hit too close to home for him? Would it help her understand him better?

  “Dhara.”

  His voice was intense, and it immediately drew her eyes to his.

  “You need to promise me.”

  Somehow, she found herself nodding, wetting her lips with her tongue. “All right. I promise not to look into your past.”

  Still, there was a bit of hesitation there, but he nodded, seeming to take her at her word. “Good. Then we’ll simply accept that I do know a great deal about what you’re facing, and we’ll leave it at that. Yes?”

  Again, Dhara nodded. “Yes. But you have to tell me what you do know. About the part that affects me. You can’t just not tell me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said, and there was a hint of his usually-easy smile on his lips. “I know it would make you insane.”

  “Well, then?”

  “You just turned thirty, didn’t you?”

  Surprised, Dhara frowned at him. “Yes. How did you know that?” She had turned thirty in her first week in Boston, and she had spent the momentous occasion alone, all of her friends back in California and her family in New Delhi. Despite the fact that she had been excited about her new house and new job at the time, it had been a difficult night, facing a new decade all on her own with a pint of ice cream, a bottle of wine, and a romantic comedy that validated her stereotypical eating choices.

  “Since you’ve been here in Boston?”

  “Yes,” she said again. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has to do with everything,” Kean said, his voice once again grim. “In all your research, did you come across something called Jinn?”

  She shook her head, her spork lowered and the food between them forgotten. “No. What is that?”

  “It’s actually a Bengali belief,” he told her. “What put me onto it was the smell in your house. I kept getting a whiff of flowers, but I realized that there were no fresh flowers in the house.”

  “No, there aren’t,” she agreed. “It’s hardly the season for it.”

  He nodded. “Sure, but it made everything click for me. You’re from …India, right?”

  “Yes, I was born there and lived there until I was eighteen.” Dhara tilted her head, studying him. “I’m confused. What does that have to do with flowers?”

  Leaning forward, he gestured with his hands as he talked, clearly intent on his explanation. “I remembered reading somewhere that there was a Bengali belief in something called Jinn, which is a paranormal phenomenon that can take many forms, but is often recognizable by the flowery or rotten-flesh smell that it produces.”

  “Flowery or rotten flesh?” Dhara frowned. “Those aren’t exactly interchangeable.”

  “No, but Jinn can produce either,” he assured her. “So when I realized what I was smelling, it clicked for me. Flowers. Jinn. Bengal. India. Dhara.”

  “That’s quite the train of thought,” Dhara said, still not sure she was buying any of this. “It’s a little presumptuous though, don’t you think? I’m from India, therefore this must be some Bengali superstition? I’m from New Delhi, which is most of a day’s train ride from Bengal. The cultural differences are incredible, not to mention the fact that I’ve lived in the United States for the past twelve years, getting my education. Why, after twelve years, would I suddenly be haunted by some Indian-rooted spirit?”

  He held up his hand, holding off her indignation, though it was a bit late for that. “Hear me out. I’m not just jumping to conclusions because you’re from India, okay? What was the first question I asked you when we started all this, just a few minutes ago?”

  Dhara thought back, her brow knitting together. “If I had just turned thirty.”

  “That’s right,” Kean said, his eyes sparking with intensity. “There are many stories about the Jinn. So many that it’s impossible to collate them all into one cohesive story. But there is something I came across when I was researching, and it’s that Jinn spirits can attach themselves to someone, for whatever reason, and if they do that, they are often dormant until the person turns thirty years old.”

  Dhara’s eyes widened, her mind going a mile a minute as she tried to process the new information he had just dumped in her lap. It could hardly be a coincidence, given her background and the fact that she had just turned thirty. But if she believed him, then that changed everything because of one simple fact.

  “That means it’s not the house that’s haunted. It’s me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kean

  Kean hurt for Dhara, seeing the anguish and the fear on her face. He hated to be the one to put it there, but there was no getting around it if what he suspected was true. She was possessed, and it was actually her energy that was producing the horrors she had witnessed at her house. At night, when she was most vulnerable, the Jinn reigned supreme, and it didn’t seem to have much self-interest as it had repeatedly attempted to kill its host body only to be thwarted when Dhara woke up gasping for air and flailing for control.

  The whole time, the demon had been attached to her—not the house.

  “But,” Dhara said, breaking the silence that Kean had let fall between them in the wake of her realization. “But that’s not possible. Nothing ever happened to me outside of the house. Nothing ever happened to me here. If it was me that had the spirit, then …”

  “It’s complicated,”
he told her gently. “If I’m right, and I think I am, then you are the host for the spirit. But your body is not a full-time requirement. The spirit can exist outside of you, in your space. It can leave the host body and live in a house…often in a toilet, strangely enough.”

  Dhara’s face pinched, and Kean found it endearing that in the midst of everything else, she was bothered specifically by the thought of a spirit in her toilet.

  “So what happens now that I’ve left the house?” she asked. “Is it going to die off if I just don’t go back? I could give it a few months and just stay away, then put the house up for sale. I’ll never step foot in it again. Then it can’t live inside me. That’ll be the end of it. I’ve left, so we’ll starve it out.”

  She sounded so desperately hopeful that Kean hated having to burst her bubble. “It’s not that easy,” he told her sympathetically. “It’s not an unreasonable conclusion to jump to, granted. But the Jinn is more powerful than you think. It won’t be long before it re-inhabits you, regardless of whether or not you return to the house.”

  Dhara’s face went white, her hands clenching against her leg. “You’re sure?”

  “No,” he told her honestly. “All of this is a theory. A hypothesis. But it’s a hypothesis based on facts and experience, and I’m pretty confident.” Reaching out, he took her hand, uncurling her fist and stroking his fingers along her palm. “Hey,” he murmured. “You’re all right. Take a deep breath.”

  “I’m not all right! There’s a man sitting in my hotel room telling me that I have a Bengali spirit possessing me and that it’s only a matter of time before it finds me again!”

  That was a fair point, Kean decided. He tugged her toward him, guiding her around the food and back to sit close enough to him that he could hold her. “Okay, you’re right. It’s time to freak out,” he told her. “Go ahead. Freak out. I’ve got you.”

  Her whole body was shaking, but she didn’t fall apart. She did, however, cling to him, her face buried in his neck as her fingers dug into the muscles of his back. Despite the context of the moment, it was impossible for Kean to ignore the fact that her body was soft and lush against him, her full chest pressed against his, and her curvy hips tucked up close against his own. He wanted to run his hand down her back, then up into her hair, making a fist there and yanking her head back so he could take her mouth with his, plunging his tongue between her lips to find her own.