Home > Moonlight Scandals (de Vincent #3)(5)

Moonlight Scandals (de Vincent #3)(5)
Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout

Jolting out of her thoughts, her eyes flew open. Sarah sat across from her, her eyes still closed.

Her pale brows knitted together as her fingers curled against the coffee table. “Rosalynn . . .”

No one called her Rosalynn except for her parents or her sister when they wanted to be annoying. Then again, her grandmother always called her that.

Sarah’s head twitched slightly to the left. “You always . . . hated that name.”

A wry grin tugged at her lips. Everyone who knew Rosie knew she didn’t like her full name. Rosalynn June Pradine had been her full name before she married. After Ian’s death, she hadn’t changed it back. Didn’t see the point in it, but anyway, her sister’s name was worse, though. Their parents just had to be extra about everything and named the poor girl Belladonna, which meant she was named after an extremely poisonous plant also known as nightshade.

The weird name thing was unfortunately a family tradition on her mother’s side. Her mother was Juniper May Pradine. Bella was Belladonna February Pradine. Yes, there was a trend there. Their middle names were the months their parents swore they were conceived in. Apparently that weird tradition started with their grandmother.

And her granny sure as hell knew she didn’t like to be called that.

It obviously wasn’t Ian coming through, but if it was her granny, Rosie couldn’t complain. She’d come through before and actually told Rosie where her mother could find a necklace of Granny’s that her mom had been searching for forever.

Exhaling slowly, Rosie watched Sarah lift her hand to the space behind her left ear. That’s what she did whenever she was hearing someone. She would mess with that ear, tugging on it or rubbing her fingers behind it, or tilt her head in the opposite direction.

“Whoa. Wait.” Sarah’s head jerked. “There’s another voice. It’s louder. Very loud and it’s coming through.”

Rosie’s brows lifted. That . . . that had never happened before. She leaned forward and then stopped as the flames on the candles flickered rapidly. As she frowned, her gaze bounced between the candles. The flames had moved like there was wind, but there wasn’t even a ceiling fan running.

A chill skated down Rosie’s spine as she lifted her gaze to Sarah as a sixth sense kicked in. Not the kind of sense Sarah had, nothing as finely tuned as that, but it was the same feeling she got on investigations, right before something freaky happened.

Sarah was rubbing at the back of her ear. “It’s a male voice and . . . and he’s saying . . . he thinks it’s a pretty name.” She shook her head. “He is talking about your name, too, but . . .”

Rosie ordered the hope swelling in her chest to chill out. Just because it was a male coming through and he knew she didn’t like her full name didn’t mean it was Ian. Her grandfather had come through once, just like her grandmother, three years ago, and so had a cousin.

Though, they’d never mentioned her name before. So that was . . . odd.

Sarah’s lips pursed as her nose scrunched. “Who . . . I don’t know. I keep hearing the word . . . ‘peonies’? Yes. Something to do with peonies.” She opened her eyes. “What is the deal with peonies?”

Her lips parted on a sharp inhale. “Peonies are my favorite flower.”

Nodding slowing, Sarah closed her eyes again. “Okay. But it’s something about . . . something about peonies today?”

“Today? I don’t—wait. Yes.” Her eyes widened. Holy crapola. . . . “I took peonies to the cemetery. I always do. Every year.”

She tipped her head to the side. “You did something with those flowers, right? He’s saying—slow down ,” Sarah ordered softly. “Yes. Okay. You gave those flowers to someone?”

Rosie’s mouth dropped open. A shiver danced over her skin. Just because she was around the supernatural a lot, that didn’t mean she still didn’t get freaked out.

And she was a little freaked out.

There was no way, none whatsoever, that Sarah would’ve known that. She hadn’t even told Nikki that she’d run into Devlin at the cemetery and spoken to him.

“Yes,” Rosie said, her hands closing in her lap. “I did give the flowers to someone—”

“Half of them,” Sarah corrected.

Rosie’s heart skipped a beat.

“He’s saying that was nice of you,” Sarah continued, her eyes open now. She wasn’t looking at Rosie, but staring into one of the flames. “He’s . . . I’m sorry. He’s kind of all over the place, and half of what he’s saying isn’t making sense.”

Now her heart had sped up. Had Sarah finally connected with Ian? “He can hear me, right?” When Sarah nodded absently, she drew in a shallow breath. “What is our word?”

Sarah’s gaze flew to hers. “This isn’t Ian.”

“What?”

“This isn’t him,” she repeated. “I don’t . . . I don’t even think this spirit knows you.”

Okay. Now she was more than a little freaked out. “What?”

“This happens sometimes.” She flinched as she refocused on the flame. Then her eyes widened. “He saw you at the cemetery. That is right.”

Rosie leaned forward again. “What is he saying?”

“He keeps saying that he doesn’t belong there. That he shouldn’t be there.” She curled her fingers around the lobe of her ear. “I think he means . . . he shouldn’t be dead.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely surprising. A lot of dead people didn’t think they should be dead.

“He’s angry. Very angry.” Her head twitched again. “What about the peonies—oh.” She looked at Rosie again. “He’s saying you shouldn’t have given the flowers to him.”

Her stomach twisted. Okay. Yet another detail Sarah didn’t know. Rosie never mentioned a guy. Was this spirit talking about Devlin? “Why shouldn’t I have?”

Sarah grew quiet. “Ungrateful,” she muttered, her lips thinning. “Mistake. He made a mistake. That’s what he keeps saying.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get him to calm down. He’s . . . God.” She dragged her hand over her head, shoving the shorter strands back. “He’s enraged. He keeps shouting that he doesn’t belong there.” Her chest rose with a deep breath. “Death.”

Rosie cocked her head to the side.

“Death,” Sarah repeated, making a sudden choking sound. “He’s saying . . . something about his death. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Really?” Rosie sighed.

“Wait.” Sarah touched her neck. “He’s saying—oh my God.” Her eyes widened. “Nope. I’m done. I can’t—I’m done. I’m closing off this connection.”

“Okay.” Rosie nodded jerkily. “Close it down. Close it—”

Sarah suddenly jerked back from the coffee table as her hands went out in front of her. Her eyes were wide. “He’s here.”

“Um, I’m not following.”

“He. Is. Here , Rosie.” Sarah’s gaze latched on to hers. “Not in the metaphysical sense. Don’t you—”

A loud thud came from above, like a giant hand smacked into the ceiling. Both of them jolted.

The candles blew out—every single one.

“Holy shit,” Sarah whispered, and Rosie heard her jump to her feet.

Goose bumps rose all over Rosie’s bare arms as she stared into the darkness and her heart thumped heavily. She strained to see or hear anything, but all she heard was Sarah rushing over toward the door. A second later, the living room flooded with light and Rosie was staring at the colorful pillows all along Sarah’s couch. Slowly, she twisted at the waist, to where Sarah stood.

Sarah stared back at her. “Rosie. . . .”

“That happened.” Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head. “That really just happened.”

Dragging in deep, rapid breaths, Sarah nodded. “He kept saying . . .”

“What?”

   
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