“We’re staying there, too!” said an older woman.
“Ah, well, then, a number of you are lucky enough to be staying at the castle,” Gary said. “Ten rooms and suites she lets out a night! Be sure to listen—and keep good watch. Maybe you’ll see or hear a ghost—there are many more, of course. It’s been a hard and vicious history, you know. Of course, you need not worry if ya be afraid of ghosts—while the main tower is most known to be haunted, Brianna tends to roam the halls of the second floor, and that’s where only the family stays.”
Devin felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a gentle whisper at her ear. “You, my love. Have you seen Brianna?”
It was Rocky—Craig Rockwell, the love of her life, seated by her side, their knees touching. And it was the kind of whisper that made her feel a sweet warmth sear through her, teasing her senses.
Rocky was her husband of three days.
But though she smiled, she didn’t let the sensual tease streak as far as it might. Oddly enough, his question was serious; partially because they were staying in the old master’s suite, since they were family, through marriage—Rocky, through her. Devin, because her mother’s sister April had long ago married Seamus Karney, youngest brother of the Karney family.
His question was also partially serious because they were who they were themselves—and what they did for a living, rather strange work, really, because it was the kind that could never be left behind.
She and Rocky had been together since a bizarre series of murders in Salem. Devin owned a cottage there, inherited from a beloved great aunt. Rocky had grown up in nearby Marblehead and had—technically—been part of the case since he’d been in high school. As an adult, he’d also been part of the FBI—and then part of an elite unit within the FBI, the Krewe of Hunters.
Devin had been—and still was—a creator of children’s books. But, she’d found herself part of the case as well, nearly a victim.
Somehow, in the midst of it all, they’d grown closer and closer—despite a somewhat hostile beginning. As they’d found their own lives in danger, they’d discovered that their natural physical attraction began to grow—and then they found they desperately loved one another and were, in many ways, a perfect match. Not perfect—nothing was perfect. But she loved Rocky and knew that he loved her with an equal passion and devotion.
That was, she thought, as perfect as life could ever get.
And, she’d discovered, she was a “just about as perfect as you were going to get” candidate for being a part of the Krewe as well. That had meant nearly half a year—pretty grueling for her, really—in the FBI Academy, but she’d come through and now she was very grateful.
Rocky had never told her what she should or shouldn’t do. The choice had been hers, but she believed he was pleased with her position—it allowed them to work together, which was important since they traveled so much on cases. While the agency allowed marriages and relationships among employees, they usually had to be in different units. Not so with the Krewe. In the Krewe, relationships between agents aided in their pursuits.
While Devin had never known she’d wanted to be in law enforcement before the events in Salem, she felt now that she could never go back. She belonged in the Krewe because she did have a special talent—one shared by all those in the unit.
When they chose to be seen, she—like the others—had the ability to see the dead.
And speak with them.
It wasn’t a talent she’d had since she’d been a child. It was one she had discovered when bodies had started piling up after she returned to live in Salem. The victim of a long ago persecution had found her, seeking help for those being murdered in the present in an age-old act of vengeance.
She still wrote her books, gaining ideas from her work. And being with the Krewe made her feel that she was using herself in the best way possible—helping those in need. She’d never wanted the world to be evil. And the world wasn’t evil—just some people in it.
She did have to admit that her life had never seemed so complete. But, of course, that was mainly because she woke up each morning with Rocky at her side. And she knew that no matter how many years went by, she would love waking to his dark green eyes on her, even when his auburn hair grayed—or disappeared entirely. She loved Rocky—everything about him. He was one of the least self-conscious people she had ever met. He towered over her five-nine by a good six inches and was naturally lean but powerfully built, and yet totally oblivious to his appearance. Of course, he took his work very seriously and that meant time in a gym several days every week. Now, of course, she had to take to the gym every week herself.
Rocky was just much better at the discipline.