He got out, came around and opened my door. I handed him the box and slid from the seat. I shouldered my purse and walked alongside him as we approached the B and B.
“So you need the ghost’s name?”
“Yes. He’s keeping other spirits chained there, and I’m trying to figure out why and how. What’s the connection?” I curled my hand into his sleeve. “Roan, the spirit threatened the family that lives there. It threatened to destroy them.”
We reached the inn. He unlocked the side door and opened it for me to enter first. “Can it do that? Hurt people?”
I nodded. “Yes. It can. I think it already directly or indirectly killed two people that I know of. But I can’t be sure. I need to know more. That’s why I bought this book.”
I fished through my bag and retrieved what I’d purchased from Mr. Hodges. “I wanted to go through it and see if there was more it could tell me.”
Roan slid the box onto the kitchen counter. I stopped and sniffed. The scent of roasting meat drifted up my nose. My stomach growled.
Roan shot me an amused look. “Want a snack before dinner?”
“I might kill for one. I’m starving.”
“I don’t want you going homicidal. Let me make something.”
He washed his hands and set about piling a plate with cheese, fruit and crackers.
“You might know the house I’m talking about. The one on Ghoul. Anyway, a spirit told the Jarvises to contact me, and the evil ghost said there was a master. Amaster. What master? What could it be talking about?”
Roan stopped stacking crackers. He stared at the plate as if lost in it.
“Roan?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. That’s just strange. You saying something about the master. It was like there was something on the tip of my tongue, but it disappeared before the words would come.” His eyes widened playfully. “Isn’t that weird?” He grabbed my arm. “Come back to my room. We’ll finish talking about this.”
As I followed him, I couldn’t help but wonder what information was on the tip of his tongue and how it could help us.
His room was a suite off the kitchen. A couch stamped out one side, and his musical instruments lined the shelves of a wall. Roan kept every musical instrument he’d ever owned, including a plastic recorder that he’d explained was his very first.
Who would think that a cheap piece of plastic could create a passion?
It was so cute I just wanted to pinch his cheeks about it.
We settled in, and Roan placed the tray on the coffee table. He leaned back on the couch. The cushions cracked and groaned under the strain of his weight.
“I don’t like you going to this house.”
I’d pulled a slice of cheese off the tray. I now held it in midair. “What do you mean, you don’t like me going to this house?”
Roan raked his fingers roughly through the back of his hair, spiking it at the ends.
I didn’t want to tell him it looked cute. He might play that advantage on me by, you know, kissing me or something, and then, well, I might start thinking about my feelings for him.
Feelings were pesky annoyances.
“What I mean is, this place sounds dangerous, Blissful. I don’t like it.”
“It is dangerous. It’s dangerous for anyone who lives there. The Jarvises have a young girl. I think she’s a clairvoyant, which could make her more at risk. If she can see the spirit, it can do more things to her—harm her.”
I shook my head. “I’m going back, and I’m doing it tonight.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
My gaze snapped to him. The expression in Roan’s face was quite serious.
