Ghost Maker by Robin D. Owens

Author:Robin D. Owens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-10-03T11:22:16+00:00

Chapter 20

Enzo padded up to the near-transparent phantom woman and sat close to her. I am Enzo, Clare’s guide, and a minor spirit myself. You are very beautiful.

Now the nun’s head angled down as she looked at the ghost Labrador. Even blinking, Clare couldn’t bring her into focus.

With a bark, Enzo looked back at them. That is my friend Clare, who is also beautiful, and my friend Zach, who is beautiful! We are all beautiful here!

You do have a shine, the sister stated. She leaned forward and Clare thought the woman tried to see Enzo better. She probably hadn’t seen that breed of dog when she lived, since Labradors came to the States in the early twentieth century.

So we are Enzo and Clare and Zach and the Sister of Mercy! Enzo enthused. His promptings drew a laugh from the apparition and she looked in Clare’s direction. I am Sister Julianna Emmanuel.

I am very pleased to meet you, Sister Julianna Emmanuel, Clare sent to the spirit, though her ears picked up people outside on the street, buying candy.

Zach is a very virile man, the ghost said hesitantly. Her voice sounded high, more like a girl’s than a woman’s. Her skirts belled restlessly. She continued, His aura is strong and vigorous and very masculine. She swayed sideways, nearly sinking fully into a large concrete pillar, as if such machismo threatened her somehow.

So, in this instance, Zach might be a detriment. Unlike Clare’s previous case where the ghost had bonded more with Zach than with her. Sister Julianna’s blacks, grays, and pale shades began to meld together as she evaporated. Because of Zach?

He’s also wounded and suffering, Clare said telepathically.

Zach flinched beside her and dropped her hand to set his fingers on her shoulder with his free hand. On the top of his curved wooden cane, his left knuckles tightened to white.

The nun’s phantom sharpened. Is he? She sounded extremely interested, as a healing spirit would be. Yes! Clare had discovered her at last!

Can you see his wound below his left knee? Clare asked.

A slight fluctuation in the atmosphere as if Sister Julianna gasped. Yes, a nerve is severed!

Zach’s jaw flexed.

The nun flowed forward, knelt before them, crooning softly, ghostly hands trying to wrap around Zach’s leg but passing through.

Zach’s breath hissed out of him. “Hot touch,” he muttered. “Hands?”

Yes, Clare sent telepathically, specifically to him. A warm ghost? Wow, definitely different.

Oh, I cannot help him. The sister sounded grieved. She glanced up at them.

And, I sense . . . you are of Indian blood?

Zach’s fingers tightened around Clare’s shoulder and he angled his head as if straining to hear. That’s right, he answered. His mental tone came through gritty.

I admire Indians greatly, Sister Julianna whispered. I am sorry I can’t use my healing hands—

Clare is injured also, Zach interrupted.

The young woman rose—not like a person moved—and stared at Clare with dark foggy eyes flashing with small starbursts, both darker and brighter than Clare had seen before in a ghost.

Julianna Emmanuel’s hands lifted.

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