“Oh, Henry,” she sobbed from behind her hands. “I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do.”
With gentle fingers, Henry pried her hands away from her face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jo. I swear it.” He pushed her long hair away from her face, his hand tracing the contours of her neck before kissing the curve of her shoulder.
For a few precious seconds, the only thing Josephine could think about was the feel of Henry’s lips, the heat that flushed her skin at his touch, but no sooner had he broken away than did her body begin to ache from the unbearable weight of her emotions.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck as hot tears pricked her eyes. “They’re dead, you know,” she finally whispered. “My father. Mother and Mercy. Everyone.” She continued to weep.
As she clung to him, Henry rocked her back and forth. “I know, my love. I know.”
The emotions tormenting her were excruciating, and with Henry’s strong arms wrapped around her, Josephine finally gave in and let herself feel the full extent of her grief.
Her body shook violently, and sobs tore from her throat as she cried for the family she had lost. Henry held her against his chest, and Josephine was sure that his arms were the only things keeping her from breaking into a thousand pieces.
Henry kept his hold on her long after her tears subsided.
“I’m sorry,” Josephine said, sitting up. “I shouldn’t fall apart like this. I’m just so thankful you’re here. I thought I was all alone.”
“Listen to me.” Henry leaned forward, his expression fierce. “You will never be alone, Jo. I will always look after you.”
“Always?”
“Always.” And as if to seal his declaration with a kiss, Henry pulled her toward him, capturing her lips with his own. It wasn’t until she tasted salt that Josephine realized that the tears were not entirely her own.
Goose bumps rose on her skin and she shivered, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. Henry’s fingers traced down her arms, his lips like a gentle caress at the base of her throat. Warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn’t long until her entire body burned. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him tight against her body. Henry’s lips moved from her skin, and Josephine barely had time to take a breath before his lips came crashing back down on hers.
Their kiss deepened, and Josephine gave herself over to it, letting her pain wash away like rainwater. The only thing she could think about was Henry. Of his strong hands moving across her back. Of the hot kisses he trailed up and down her slender neck. Everywhere he touched felt on fire, his fingers leaving a trail of what felt like tangible flames on her skin.
Her hands gripped his shoulders as she tried to pull him even tighter around her slender frame. Her arms were aching, but the burning inside her dictated her every move, and she couldn’t let go.
She didn’t want to.
So when he laid her against the worn wooden floor, she closed her eyes and gripped him tighter.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Hello?” A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face. “Earth to Styles. Come in, Styles.”
I blinked several times before Maggie’s face came into view. I recognized the row of lockers behind her head, and the chatter from people moving past us confirmed that we were still in the hallway, in the exact same spot we’d been standing when I saw Josephine.
“Um . . . are you okay?” Maggie was staring at me, one eyebrow raised.
I nodded my head. “Yeah . . . sorry.” I glanced around for Josephine, but she was gone. “I just saw Josephine again. She showed me another . . . vision or whatever.”
“Just now?” Maggie’s face brightened. “What did she say? What did you see?”
“She was hiding, on the run from the people that attacked her family. But then someone found her.”
Maggie gripped my arm, already deeply engrossed in the telling.
“It was her lover or husband, I think,” I continued. “Josephine thought he’d been murdered like the others, but he’d managed to escape.”
“And?” Maggie demanded. “What happened next?”
“They . . .”
I won’t let anyone hurt you, Jo. The words echoed in my ears, and a hot flush crept up my neck as the corresponding images rippled through my thoughts. It was uncomfortable being so present in someone else’s tender moment—especially considering my own experience in the love department was limited at best. I shrugged. “Nothing, they just . . . reconnected. That’s all.”
“Reconn—oh!” Maggie’s knowing grin made the fire under my skin burn even hotter. Thankfully, she didn’t press me further. “She’s obviously showing you these things on purpose. Why, though?”
“I feel like she’s trying to tell me something,” I said. “But I have no idea what.”
“Well, all the more reason for us to check out that supermoon, right?”
I nodded. “Right. I was doing some research earlier and—”
The shrill clang of the bell cut me off. I groaned. That red glaring “C” from earlier flashed in my mind. “I guess it’s chemistry first. Paranormal investigation later.”
Maggie looped her arm through mine as we headed toward the science lab. “I’ll hold you to that, Styles.”
I laughed. “I’m counting on it.”
On Friday night when we pulled into the parking lot at the cemetery, the sky was dotted with stars. The moon was a big, shining orb in the sky, despite the thick layer of fog that had settled over the grounds. Drooping magnolia trees loomed eerily over the pathways and headstones, and Spanish moss hung from the low branches. Tendrils of ivy wound around the wrought iron gate that surrounded the premises, and everything looked gothic and full of mystery. The graveyard was spectacularly spooky—the perfect location for contacting a ghost.
“It looks like something right out of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination,” I said, scrunching my nose.
“Doesn’t it, though?” Maggie beamed, peering eagerly out the window.
“It’s certainly creepy enough.”
“This is one of the oldest cemeteries in the state,” Maggie said. “I looked it up, and there are stones here that date back to the 1700s. My guess is if there’s anywhere we’ll find Josephine, it’s here. Now, come on. It’s time to track down a ghost!”
“It does look promising,” I said, trying to ignore the way my stomach was churning.
Maggie stopped right outside the main gate and slung off her backpack. She began pulling things from inside—flashlights, a mirror, several pieces of chalk, matches, salt, candles, a thick white crystal on a string—and arranging them neatly on the pavement.
“Whoa, Mary Poppins,” I said, staring at the supplies. “What’s all this?”
I’d done a lot of reading on supermoons, but nothing I read mentioned the arsenal Maggie was assembling.
She rolled her eyes. “Contacting the spirit world is complicated, Styles. I wasn’t sure what we’d need. I had to come prepared.”