Nuit Aux Trois (3 page)

Chapter Four

"What exactly does this do?” Quinn held up a hand-held device that featured several buttons and toggle switches. At the top was a scale of numbers from zero to one hundred, in increments of five.

"That's an EMF meter,” Dev said. “It measures electromagnetic fields, which some people believe a ghost can disturb when they try to manifest."

"I see. And this?” She held up a thermometer. “You need this to tell you it's cold?"

Fletch snatched it out of her hand. “You giving out negative energy, Boo."

"Sorry. I just wonder if this really works.” She spread her hands out to indicate the numerous items spread on the table."

"We'll see tonight, after it's dark,” Dev replied. “We got a few hours before dinner. We're going to explore. Want to go with us?"

Quinn shook her head and yawned. “I'd rather take a nap and explore tomorrow. Or, maybe tonight Alison can take me for a tour."

Dev put his hand behind her neck and lowered his lips to hers gently. “We'll turn you into a believer yet."

She pulled back and looked into his eyes, which twinkled with delight. Then, she turned to Fletch, who kissed her forehead. The two men picked up several pieces of equipment she didn't recognize and left the room.

Quinn ran her tongue over her lips, the imprint of Dev's lips making her tingle. She needed to talk to them about the kissing. It was fine for them; they had each other to relieve tension. But each time they'd kissed her lately the tension had become stronger and stronger. And frankly, Quinn wasn't sure she could take much more without ripping off their clothes and having her way with them.

She left their room and paused in the hallway to examine the portrait of Alison and Amedee. Alison was petite and blond, her blue eye sparking with mischief. Amedee looked strong and handsome, his hand resting on Alison's shoulder, his dark eyes almost seductive. Delphie looked much like her sister, except she didn't look as soft and sweet. Her hair was also more strawberry blond than her sister's sunny blonde.

"You don't look unhappy, Alison, and he looks pretty sexy,” Quinn said. “What forced you into another man's arms?"

She stared at the portrait as if she expected it to answer her. Then she let out a huff of disgust.

"I'm losing it.” She went to her room, slipped off her shoes, climbed into the bed, and burrowed beneath the satiny covers. Her eyes closed immediately and then flew back open.

"Um, Alison. If we're going to play tonight I need some rest. Why don't you take a nap yourself?” Then she laughed, and fell asleep.

* * * *

"Oh, oh, Amedee, my love. Yes. There. Oh."

Quinn sat up in bed. Light still drifted through the French doors, so she knew she hadn't slept long. The soft moans of a woman in the throes of passion filled the room.

"Yes. Amedee. Faster, my love. Oh..."

Quinn reached behind her and pulled a pillow to her chest. “Fletch? Dev?"

A man's voice joined the woman's, his moans and grunts deep and pleasurable.

"So wet for me, Alison. So very wet and open."

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.
Alison and Amedee? I thought she hated him.

"Amedee. I'm going to spend. I'm going to, ah..."

"Dev? Fletch? Is this a joke?"

The moans increased, then suddenly stopped. The man chuckled, and the woman giggled.

"You're late,” he said, his voice deep with desire. “We started without you. But we have all night to play. Undress and join us, my love."

"Join us? Dev! This is not funny.” Quinn jumped from the bed and headed for the hallway. She yanked the door open and stepped outside into the empty space.

"Son of a ... Dev!” She stepped back into the room and stopped short. The room was cold. Freezing cold. And a woman stood in the center, staring at the bed. Quinn stopped dead in her tracks and stared. This woman wasn't Alison. The painting of Alison had shown a petite blond woman. This woman was petite, true, but her hair was flaming red. And she was angry. It poured off her floating form in waves.

"Alison?” The form turned toward her and Quinn backed toward the doorway.

She couldn't make out a face, but the second the apparition turned toward where Quinn stood, opened its mouth, and screamed. Quinn scrambled out the door and ran straight into Fletch's chest.

"Boo. What's—"

"In there.” She pointed toward the door but Dev was already inside. Fletch gently set her aside and followed him in.

"There's nothing in here, Quinn,” Dev said. “What made you scream?"

"I didn't. That, that ...
thing
did."

Fletch turned in a circle, ending up in the same spot with his eyes trained on Quinn. “Boo, there's no
thing
."

"There was! I heard two people making love, and then another person came in and then a woman appeared and screamed. It was a woman. She screamed."

"Calm down, calm down.” Dev took Quinn's face in his head and tilted her face toward his. “It's okay."

"No. She stood right here.” Quinn pulled away and stormed to the center of the room. She planted her feet where the floating form had stood.

"Boo, we get no reading."

"I don't care, Fletch. I know what I saw."

Dev stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. “We have about an hour before dinner. Let's go sit in the other bedroom and talk about what you saw."

"You don't believe me,” Quinn said softly.

"Of course we do, Quinn,” Dev said, his voice deep in her ear. Quinn closed her eyes, then shivered when Dev's lips touched her neck. He kissed her gently, his lips caressing her heated skin.

"Dev. What are you...?"

"Hush, Boo,” Fletch said, stepping in front of them and taking Quinn's hands in his own.
Bébé, détendent
. Just relax."

He caressed her forehead, moving tracing his fingers down her hairline as Dev continued to kiss her neck. Then, he leaned over and claimed her lips.

Quinn reeled from the sensations; Dev's warm lips trailed over her neck and Fletch's lips skimmed over her own. When his tongue snaked out she moaned, her lips parting. He licked her upper lip, then probed deeper, his tongue dancing around her own while Dev held her close to him.

When Fletch ended the kiss, he traced his thumb over her mouth.

"What's happening?” She could barely hear her own voice.

"What should have happened years ago,” Dev said. “We just didn't know how to approach the subject. We want you, Quinn. We want the three of us to be together."

Quinn's head spun. How could this happen? Did they feel sorry for her since she couldn't find a date, so they thought they had to make her feel like they wanted her?

"You don't have to do this,” Quinn said. “I know you both prefer men."

"Boo,” Fletch said. “It has nothing to do with males or females. Dev and I are together because we love each other."

"And we love you, too,” Dev said. “We've wanted to tell you, but we weren't sure how you'd react."

Quinn's heart went into overdrive. How should she react? Was there some sort of set protocol when your male roommates told you they wanted to have sex with you? And what made them think she'd just accept it? Of course she wanted to, her taut nipples and wet center proved that.

But what would happen to their happy little family? How would things change? Right now things were good. But what would happen once they were back in New Orleans? Would they kick her out of the house? Would they just want her to visit their bedroom every once in a while? Or did they just want her because she had a womb?

That idea slammed into her so quickly it made her knees weak.

"You're thinking too much,” Dev said. “If we have issues to discuss, then we need to do it now. Don't hold it in."

"You two have obviously already discussed it,” Quinn said, wincing at the hurt tone of her voice.

"I told you, you
bioque
,” Fletch said. “We shouldn't have kept her in the dark."

"Don't blame him,” Quinn said. “Dev didn't keep this little secret on his own."

She pushed away from them. “It's dinnertime and I'm hungry. I've just seen my first ghost and I have
two
fools who think I should just fall into bed with them."

"It's not like we just met,” Dev said. “We—"

Quinn held up her hand. “Feed me first. Then we'll talk."

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Chapter Five

"There's the crypt,” Fletch said, sprinting across the grass toward the family cemetery.

Rachel had told them at dinner that Alison and the rest of her family were buried on the plantation land instead of residing in a public City of the Dead.

"You're quiet,” Dev said. “Have we shocked you?"

"You're kidding, right? My roommates, whom I totally adore, tell me they want to have sex with me and then ask if I'm shocked. Imagine that."

"We wanted to approach the subject earlier, but we weren't sure how to do it,” Dev said, a sheepish look on his face. “We were worried about driving you away. Neither of us could stand it if we lost you."

"That goes for me, too,” she assured him. “Still, I feel a little blindsided
."

And very tempted, which scares me.

Dev nodded, and shifted the items in his arms. After dinner, they'd decided to walk to the cemetery, which was a little more than a mile from the house. Rachel had fixed them a basket with fruit and cookies for dessert, and given them an old quilt to take along so they could sit under the “many, many trees that decorate the plantation and enjoy the sunset."

Dev opened the gate to the cemetery and ushered Quinn inside. Fletch was already walking around the crypts, running his hands along dates and names and stopping at times to take photos.

"Here she is,” he said after a few moments, motioning them toward a corner. “Alison, over here all by her lonesome."

Quinn walked toward the crypt, a strange feeling of excitement filling her belly. The stone monument showed the wear of the ages, but it looked as if Rachel and her husband had come out to the cemetery to clean off the crypts, and to mow and weed the grass.

"She was so young,” Fletch said. “Barely twenty-five when she died. And her sister didn't even have the decency to put Amedee in the same crypt. He's all the way over there."

He pointed toward the gate of the cemetery.

"Well, I guess she thought Alison wouldn't want to be next to her killer,” Quinn said.

She moaned softly, and then a full-body shake took over, rocking her from the tops of her ears to the tips of her toes.

"Boo?” Fletch's voice sounded far away as Quinn wrapped her arms around her chest and moved away from the crypt. “Boo? What's wrong?"

"Cold. So cold."

Dev stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “She's freezing. Let's step outside the gate."

Each man took a hand and propelled Quinn toward the opening of the cemetery. As they neared it, the gate slammed shut. All three took a step back and stared.

Quinn's teeth started to chatter and Fletch pulled her into his arms as Dev pulled on the gate. It wouldn't budge. Mist appeared around their legs, moving higher and Quinn's shivers turned into a full body shake.

"Dev? Fletch? What's happening?"

The men looked around, their eyes widening as they searched the mist.

"Do you see a shape, a form?” Dev asked.

"None. But this is hurtin’ our Quinn. She's ice cold."

"Son of a ... Lift her over the fence, Fletch."

Fletch made a move toward the fence, which was about four feet high. He lifted his arms to place Quinn on the other side then let out a yelp of pain and fell backward, Quinn landing on top of him.

"Fletch! Quinn!” Dev dropped the blanket and basket he'd been carrying and stepped forward. Fletch let out a howl of agony, and pushed Quinn away from him.

"Try and jump it,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

Quinn, her body still shivering, goose pimples now evident on her arms and chest, crawled toward the fence. She could hear the men talking behind her and turned.

"Go!” Dev yelled, pointing toward the fence. “It's directed at you. Once you're gone, it might stop. Go!"

She grabbed the fence, which felt ice cold in her hands, and pulled herself up to her knees. Once she was on her feet, she stood quickly and made to lift her leg over the fence. She felt arms wrap around her waist and pull her backwards.

"Dev! Please.” The force was pulling her back into the graveyard. Quinn kept a hold on the fence, trying to break away from the invisible entity that had control over her. Her breathing quickened, to a desperate pant as she fought back tears of panic.

Why weren't Dev and Fletch helping her? She turned her head to see the two men on the ground, barely visible through the mist.

"Stop it! Stop it! Alison, please!"

The pressure around her waist lessened and a woman's soft cries filled the empty space.

"Alison?” Quinn's chest heaved. The mist started to disappear and seconds later, Quinn felt the pull on her body lessen. She stood upright and leaned against the fence. She looked toward Dev and Fletch and gasped.

A feminine figure appeared near the crypt. She floated above the ground, the mist hovering around her feet. Her dress was white, lacy and full. Her blond hair hung straight around her shoulders, and the look on her face was one of extreme sadness. Quinn knew from the portraits it was Alison. Her mind had trouble wrapping itself around what she was seeing, but she knew it was Alison, or her double.

She started to speak, French words spilling out of her mouth quickly. Quinn shook her head. “I can't, wait..."

"
Vous devez aider mon Amedee. Économisez-lui de la sorcière. S'il vous plaît! Je vous sollicite! Elle le blesse. S'il vous plaît, aidez-le."

"Fletch?” He stood, nearby, his eyes wide with excitement and wonder.

"Alison?” he asked softly.

The figure turned its sad eyes toward Fletch. The man stared until Dev yelled, “Fletch! What did she say?"

Fletch shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “A witch is hurting Amedee. She wants us to help him."

"Um, Alison,” Fletch cleared his voice. “
Qui est la sorcière
, Alison? Who is the witch?"

The figure wavered as the mist grew dimmer. “
Delphie. Elle l'a asservi, maintenu lui dans les chaînes. Aidez-le.
"

"Delphie."

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