Celeste Files: Unlocked Part 7

Oh, my G.o.d. This wasn't her. Who was this woman?

Her hands sifted through long dark-brown hair, then touched high cheekbones. She was moved closer to the mirror, and gazing into soft brown eyes. Pretty, intelligent eyes that held a haunting familiarity.

Sandra's eyes.

No. Sandra's daughter's eyes.

She was in the secret daughter's body. Which meant...oh, G.o.d...Tracy Saunders was dead. She had to be. The dead reached out to her, not the living.

If she was right, this moment, this vision might be her only chance to help give both this woman and Sandra justice. Knowing it might be her chance to find out the truth, she cleared her mind and sought to connect with the woman's thoughts. Although the tunnel vision continued to make her stomach sick, the pounding in her head slowly abated. The throbbing in her temples, the sensation of having her ears stuffed with cotton lessened and was replaced by quiet whispers. She opened her mind and heart to the woman who had invited Celeste into her body. The whispers grew louder, stronger, more distinct until- Maybe I should have worn something else.

The woman's inner thoughts were crystal clear as Celeste looked through Tracy's eyes and stared at the mirror.

Something less subtle and s.e.xier. Get a grip. Don't mistake friendly for flirty. Tracy eyed her reflection one last time, adjusted the charcoal-gray cowl neck sweater, before smoothing her hands over the black leggings she knew accentuated her rear. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned away from her reflection, then opened the door.

"Hi," Tracy said, smiling. Oh, wow. Talk about gorgeous. Tracy stared at her new student hoping to G.o.d she was right and she hadn't mistaken friendly for flirty. It had been too long since she'd been in a relations.h.i.+p, and she'd missed dating, kissing...making love. "Are you ready for your first piano lesson?"

The pounding in Celeste's head returned, along with fear. The figure in the doorway was nothing but a shadowy blur, similar to what she'd witnessed during her vision at Maxine's, and she didn't understand why. Why couldn't she see what Tracy could? When she'd been with Sandra, she'd been able to make out what she had a.s.sumed was the woman's mother. Everything in that vision had been pure and the surroundings vibrant. Then again, she hadn't been able to see who had been in the room with Sandra when she'd been murdered.

"I'm ready," the figure said, its voice echoing over itself to the point Celeste couldn't tell whether a man or woman spoke. "Learning to play the piano is on my bucket list."

"Well, I'll have you playing Mary Had a Little Lamb by the time we're finished today," Tracy said, leading her student toward the piano.

The figure chuckled, and Celeste wished Tracy would turn around and look at it again. There had been something malevolent in the sound that had her queasy stomach twisting with unease.

"I don't plan to get to the level where I'm playing Beethoven, but that's a start." The black figure, moved alongside Tracy. "I love your home. What year was it built?"

"Thank you. It was built in 1910. I've been slowly renovating it over the years, trying to bring it back to what it once was." Tracy looked around her living room and Celeste could feel the woman's pride. For a split second, she saw the room as it had been when Tracy had first bought the house-neglected, ugly floral wallpaper and paint peeling, damaged floors, dated light fixtures. "It's a work in progress," Tracy continued, snapping the image away from Celeste. "Come, sit on the bench."

The figure disintegrated, then redeveloped and hovered near the bench. Alarmed and scared for Tracy, Celeste tried desperately to keep her mind clear. But she couldn't shake the memory of the frightening, black coagulating ma.s.s she'd seen earlier today at Maxine's, the sheer wickedness it had exuded, or how similar it was to this figure.

Tracy sat on the bench and gave the lacquered wood a pat. "I promise the keys won't bite. Let's get started with the basics."

d.a.m.n it. Celeste needed Tracy to look at the figure. She wasn't comfortable having it out of her line of sight. If only she could communicate with the woman. Warn her, let her know that the person she'd invited into her home wasn't there for piano lessons. A bitter sense of impotence squeezed her chest. In the past, the dead had used her body to tell their stories. What Celeste was experiencing right now was likely the final moments of Tracy's life. She couldn't help the woman now, but if Tracy would turn her head and continue to look or even speak to the figure, Celeste might be able to find a way to identify the woman's killer.

Or maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was still soaking in her tub and- "Yes, let's get to the basics." The figure's words continued to echo in a way that added to her nausea, but she swore the voice was female. Which didn't make sense, since Tracy had been thinking about flirting and had been concerned with what she wore. "You intrigue me. Are you from the area?" the figure asked.

Celeste sensed Tracy's excitement. The woman looked to the black figure. "I've lived here all my life."

The figure's black arm evaporated, then redeveloped in a burst of smoke and touched a picture sitting on the small table near the piano. "Is this your family?"

"Yes," Tracy said, her excitement growing. Her adult students never made small talk. They were usually all business. Maybe she'd been right and hadn't mistaken flirty for friendly. At least she hoped. It had been a long time since she'd had such an attraction to a person and she would love to have the chance to see if they could take their relations.h.i.+p beyond student-teacher. "Those are my parents and two older brothers." She looked at the photo, her chest filling with pride. Her mom and dad were wonderful people, and had chosen her. "I'm the baby in the family."

"You don't favor any of them. Who did you get your beautiful brown eyes from?"

"My mother."

"But your mother has blue eyes."

Tracy hadn't told a soul that she'd been adopted. She hadn't even told her parents she knew the truth. Since they were both in their late seventies and their health wasn't the best, and because they'd kept her adoption secret from her, she hadn't wanted to upset them. For whatever reason, she felt a strange connection to her student, along with the urge to be honest. "I was adopted."

The figure's ma.s.s changed. It swelled and rippled, became so incredibly black it sucked the color from the room, turning her surroundings a hazy gray. "Adopted? Not to pry, but do you know your real mother?"

Despite the heavy foreboding weighing on Celeste, Tracy's spirit grew warm. Sandra's image filled the woman's mind, giving Celeste a glimpse of mother and daughter embracing.

"Yes," Tracy said. "She's a wonderful woman. She was too young when she gave birth to me and did me a huge favor by giving me up for adoption. My real mom ended up having a successful career, marrying and having two other kids. But if she'd kept me, I don't know if that would've happened. And I couldn't imagine being raised by anyone but my mom and dad." She shook her head, which made Celeste dizzy. "I'll admit, she shocked the h.e.l.l out of me when she first called. But, I'm so glad I was willing to meet with her. She's a great lady." Tracy sighed, the memory of Sandra still lingering in her mind. "Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Do you have a big family?"

The figure oozed forward, the hatred emanating from it suffocating Celeste as it hovered near Tracy. "What's your real mother's name?"

Celeste sensed a sudden s.h.i.+ft in Tracy. Felt her unease and distrust. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious. I like you. I want to know about you. Maybe I misinterpreted our phone conversation, but I thought you might like me, too."

Tracy relaxed, and her earlier excitement at the prospect of a possible relations.h.i.+p returned. "Her name is Sandra."

Black wisps of smoke reached out and touched Tracy's face. "Sandra," it repeated, its voice deadened, hollow. "She's a f.u.c.king wh.o.r.e."

Tracy gasped and drew back. The figure grabbed a fistful of the woman's hair and dragged her from the bench.

Pain radiated from Celeste's scalp. Terror filled her to the depths of her soul. She didn't have time to consider why she was suddenly experiencing Tracy's physical pain, as the figure dragged Tracy's body off the bench.

Tracy kicked out and her leg connected with the bench, which toppled over and smashed into the piano. The figure let go of Tracy's hair, then quickly produced a gun. "Get up."

Tracy shook her head. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'd tell you to ask Sandra, but she's as good as dead. Now get up."

"You killed her?" The deep sadness settling on Tracy made Celeste ache, especially when Tracy's quick memories of her real mother ran through her mind. The apprehension of meeting Sandra, then later the love and friends.h.i.+p the two women had developed.

"Not yet." The figure waved the gun. "She should have never looked for you. The s.l.u.t should have left the past buried. She should have continued to pretend you never existed." The figure kicked her in the stomach, causing Tracy to double over and Celeste to catch her breath. Then it raised the b.u.t.t of the gun, and smashed it against Tracy's head.

Celeste was plunged into darkness. She could no longer hear Tracy's whispered thoughts, and wished she could wake the woman up and tell her to fight. Trapped in Tracy's body, afraid that she might not find a way out and back to her own reality, she recalled Maxine's words.

Remember, what you're seeing isn't real. It's a plane of the past, present or future... Don't let the vision control you. It's in your head.

She wanted to know what happened to Tracy, but was worried she wouldn't be able to escape the woman's body before it was too late. Celeste also remembered how she'd used thoughts of John to help ground her earlier today. As she summoned his image-the warmth and love she knew she could count on from him-water began to surround her legs again and slowly rose.

Celeste relaxed in the darkness, gave the vision time to disappear and her own reality to return. After a few moments pa.s.sed and the water lapped against her chin, she slowly opened her eyes. Then panicked when she looked at the naked body that didn't belong to her, and at the claw foot bathtub that was the total opposite to Celeste's modern garden tub.

"You never should have been born," the figure yelled.

Tracy's sluggish mind met with Celeste's. The woman's fear tore her in two as black hands pressed down on Tracy's face, then shoved her under the water, smacking her head against porcelain. The water distorted the ever-changing unnatural and monstrous figure. Ignoring the way the cold water stung her eyes, Tracy gripped at the hands now pressing against her shoulders and holding her under the surface. She twisted her body. Her foot connected with the faucet, sending a sharp pain up her leg. The figure moved over her, pushed its knee against her stomach and bore down.

Completely submerged and unable to escape, Tracy's panic and terror filled Celeste's mind, along with confusion. The woman didn't understand why this was happening to her and prayed to G.o.d that she could be strong enough to fight her attacker. But the need to breathe overwhelmed her, along with deep sorrow. There were so many things in life she had yet to do. She had yet to know true love. She'd never take the dream trip to Europe she'd been saving for, or finish restoring her house. She'd only just discovered her real mother and still had many questions to ask her. Her parents and brothers...she loved them so d.a.m.ned much. They'd chosen her. They'd brought her into their family and loved her as one of their own and without condition. How would they handle her murder? Who would find her? Would her killer go free? Would Sandra suffer the same fate?

Exhausted from fighting, head foggy from lack of oxygen, yet terrified of dying, Tracy rallied. She shoved at the body pinning her against the tub, but couldn't rid herself of the weight. As Tracy's resolve slipped, Celeste willed the woman to not breathe in, and to continue to fight. But the burn in the woman's lungs made her own chest ache and her head pound. The urge to release the breath she'd been holding and gasp for the air she desperately needed was so d.a.m.ned strong, she couldn't blame Tracy for wanting to give up and let the water take her.

Don't breathe. Don't breathe.

The words ran through Tracy's mind and into Celeste's, until water began to fill Tracy's nostrils and drip down her throat. She gagged. Her lips parted. Water entered her mouth. She spat it out, then instinctively gasped, dragging the bathwater into her lungs. She'd expected pain, but when there was none Tracy relaxed and breathed in more water. Her body stilled. A sense of warmth and comfort overcame her. She looked past the black figure above her. A beautiful yet strange bright light wrapped itself around her. An exquisite melody filled her soul with extraordinary peace. Over the music she heard whispers and sensed the presence of others. They suddenly surrounded her and she'd never felt more loved in her life. This was a beautiful place. There was no fear. No pain. And she never wanted to leave. She never wanted- "Celeste," John yelled, raw terror in his voice.

John. Torn between her love for him and Olivia, Celeste hovered at the fringes of the light. There was so much joy and love here. The euphoria filling Tracy's spirit was unlike anything Celeste had never experienced. She craved what Tracy now had and wanted it, too. She wanted to share it with John and Olivia, with everyone she loved.

"Then they would be dead."

"Tracy?" Celeste asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, love. Thank you for staying with me those last moments. You made accepting my fate easier. But you don't belong here."

"You'd already pa.s.sed when you came to me," Celeste said, fascinated that she could communicate with Tracy.

"I know, but I kept reliving that moment over and over. I don't know why. Every time I saw the light, I tried to get to it, but something kept pulling me back and pus.h.i.+ng me under the water again. Thank you for helping me, but now you have to go."

"It's so peaceful and wonderful here."

"It is, only it's not your time. Go, Celeste. Your husband and daughter need you."

"I need them, too." John's handsome, loving face and Olivia's adorable smile filled her mind. The bright light weakened, the music and whispers faded. "Tracy, are you still there?" she asked.

"Yes," Tracy answered, her voice growing distant.

"Who did this to you?"

"Go," Tracy ordered. "Quickly. It's not your time."

"But if you could tell me who-" Celeste was shoved into utter blackness. The music and whispers stilled, and she sensed that Tracy was no longer with her.

"Celeste, please." The desperation and fear in John's voice shattered the silence. "Baby, wake up. Come back to me."

Cool air rushed along her wet skin. She s.h.i.+vered, squeezed her eyes then slowly opened them, giving herself a moment to adjust to the light.

"Thank G.o.d." John wrapped a thick, warm towel around her and cradled her against his chest. "Thank G.o.d," he repeated, rocking her, rubbing his hands along her back.

She snuggled against his heat. When she pressed the side of her face against his chest, his rapid heartbeat had guilt cras.h.i.+ng in and suffocating her. She'd slipped into a trance and had possibly followed Tracy into the afterlife. In doing so, she could have died with her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking her face in his hands.

The alarm and intensity in his gaze caused her eyes to fill with tears. "I think so." She glanced around and noticed the wine gla.s.s had shattered against the tiled floor. "How did I get out of the tub?" she asked.

"I pulled you out." He released a shaky breath, then ran an equally shaky hand across his forehead. "I heard the gla.s.s break, came in to check on you and saw..." He pulled her close again. "You were under the water, your eyes were open and you were struggling. Like someone was holding you down." He tightened his hold. "It reminded me of the trances you had in Wisconsin." He kissed her temple. "It scared the h.e.l.l out of me. I'm going to call your sister and ask her to watch Olivia."

She stiffened. "Why?"

"Because I'm taking you to the ER. You obviously had a convulsion and we need to know why." He lifted her in his arms. "Come on, let's get you dressed so we can get out of here."

"You're not calling Eden, and I'm not going to the ER."

"d.a.m.n it, Celeste. Don't be stubborn about it." He set her on the bed. "You didn't see what I did. What if this happened when you were driving? Or at the grocery store with Olivia? Our fourteen-month-old daughter would be surrounded by strangers, while you convulsed on the floor and-" He wiped a hand down his face. "I can't think about this. We're going."

Celeste didn't need a doctor. She needed John. His kiss, his touch, the embrace of his strong arms. What she'd shared with Tracy had been intimate. She'd been one with the woman, had endured her fear and sadness as she died, along with the bliss that had followed into the light. And that light had been so tempting. A small part of her wanted to stay, to remain coc.o.o.ned in the warmth and comfort the light had brought her. The black figure, its smoky, ever-changing ma.s.s, suddenly polluted the euphoric sensations the light had given her. Its evilness, so vile, blotted out the light and left terror and cruelty in its wake. Needing to be reminded that what she'd experienced had been Tracy's reality, not hers, she shoved off the bed.

"We're not going anywhere." The towel dropped to the floor as she rushed to John's side. "I need you," she said, pus.h.i.+ng his t-s.h.i.+rt up his torso. "Now."

Chapter 8.

JOHN GRABBED HER by the shoulders and set her back. "What's gotten into you? Honey, humor me on this. Let the doctors run a few tests."

Celeste wiggled free and tugged at his s.h.i.+rt again. "Later." She pushed the material higher and pressed her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his exposed skin. With desire and need coursing through her, she moved to her tiptoes and kissed his strong jaw. "Please," she murmured, and slid a hand along his abs. When she reached the waistband of his sweatpants, she slipped her hand inside and stroked him.

His breath grew ragged. "This isn't right. We shouldn't do this. I have no idea how long you were under water and-" He sucked in a breath when she cupped his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es.

"I'm fine." As she continued to ma.s.sage him, she ran her hand up the back of his neck, then sifted her fingers through his thick hair. "Kiss me," she said, pressing his head toward hers, close enough she brushed her lips against his.

He pulled his head back slightly and met her gaze. While his eyes held desire, the worry and confusion remained etched on his face. "What if something's wrong with you? What if I hurt you?"

The black figure filled her mind again. Desperate to be one with John and rid herself of the darkness that kept creeping into her head, she grazed her mouth along his. "You won't," she said, and shoved at his sweatpants until his erection was free and pressing along her stomach.

With a husky groan, he captured her lips. After kicking off his sweatpants, he edged her toward the bed, then lifted her onto the mattress. He broke the kiss, quickly finished removing his t-s.h.i.+rt, then kissed her again. As she curled her tongue around his and twined her legs along his rear, he ran one rough palm over her breast and the other over her hip. Eager to have him inside of her, to enjoy the same euphoria she'd experienced in the light, to be reminded that she was alive and loved, she reached between their bodies and guided him into her heat.

With his hard length sliding along her l.a.b.i.a, he tore his mouth away. "I want to taste you," he said, dipped his head and captured a nipple.

She ran her fingers through his hair and tightened her legs around his rear, forcing him deeper inside. "Later. I need you to make love to me."

He pressed his hands on the mattress, raised his head and met her gaze. With one swift thrust, he filled her, then held himself still. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone concerned, his breath coming in short harsh pants. The tension, evident in the cords of muscles lining his neck, was a clear indicator that he was keeping himself in check.

She set her heels on the mattress, opening herself to him. "I will be," she said, grabbing his rear and raising her pelvis. "If you give us what we both need."

Guilt momentarily crossed his face before he eased out, then thrust again. As he moved over her, rocking his hips, pleasuring her, driving her closer to that exquisite place where only she and John existed, her throat tightened with the urge to cry. She loved him so much. She'd been wrong not to tell him the truth. What if he hadn't pulled her from the bathtub? What if she'd remained with Tracy?

She pushed those thoughts from her mind and pulled his head down for another open-mouthed kiss. Tangling her tongue with his, she kissed him with all the love and pa.s.sion she possessed for him. She never wanted to leave him like that again. She never wanted to be without him or the life they'd created together. As he kissed her with the same hunger and urgency, the darkness and fear that had been lingering disappeared. All that remained was the two of them.

Pleasure washed over her. She met each of his thrusts until her o.r.g.a.s.m exploded, sending waves of sheer ecstasy throughout her body. Desire continued to curl through her as he drove himself deeper, harder. Then, with a harsh grunt, he stilled. As he released himself, she touched him everywhere she could and breathed in his familiar masculine scent. When he collapsed to his elbows, his breath ragged and puffing against her cheek, she embraced him.

"I love you," she said, running a hand along his back.

He lifted his head and kissed her. "I love you, too." He searched her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm definitely good," she said with a smile.

"I'm glad one of us is." He kissed her again. "I was so scared when I found you."

She touched his cheek. "I know. I'm so sorry."