The Devil's Cowboy (2 page)

At the mention of his name, the cat glanced over. When it didn’t look like any more tuna was forthcoming, he went back to licking himself. Ellen scrolled down, stopping when she recognized a familiar address. Eagerly, she opened the email from her best friend Melanie.

EL… I NEED U DESPRATLY
read the misspelled caption.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered aloud. “You don’t have to yell. And what’s with the lousy spelling? This isn’t Twitter.” Normally her friend wouldn’t dream of sending out an email without going back over it and correcting any errors. Ellen could tell something was seriously wrong before she even opened it. Scrolling down, her eyes widened as she read.

“
El, you have to come to Dallas. You’re the only one who can help me. I’m sending this email instead of calling because I don’t want the kids to hear any of what I’m about to tell you. They cling to me every waking hour. I try to pretend everything is all right for their sake, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act. They’re afraid to be alone in our home… and so am I.

The beautiful old house we just spent all our savings on is possessed by evil spirits. I know I teased you a lot about your psychic ability when we were young. Frankly, that was my way of dealing with something that scared me. But I’ve seen your abilities and now I’m glad I’m one of the few people who know what you can do when it comes to woo-woo stuff.

David is away on business nearly all the time and the kids and I are alone in this big old place. We have four bedrooms but Amy and Adam sleep in my room every night. If they spend any time in their own beds, they come out screaming or sobbing. Adam says there’s an enormous dark shadow with big wings hovering in the corner of his room and Amy complains about a lady who keeps her up at night because she’s crying so loud.

The spirits don’t come out when David is home. It’s as though they know he’d scoff and his disbelief keeps them at bay. But the minute we’re alone, they’re back. I know he’s becoming weary of my hysterical phone calls when he’s on the road. Not only that, I’m afraid he’s beginning to doubt my sanity. He’s made a few remarks about how I need to pull myself together because my ‘irrational outbursts’ are beginning to affect the kids. If he only knew!

You need to come here and bless this house or perform some ceremony to drive away the demons or whatever it is you do. Dave has lots of air miles stacked up from all the traveling he does. I got him to agree to let me cash some in to get you a ticket, so it won’t cost you a dime. He’s willing to do just about anything if it means I’ll quit freaking out all the time.

Please—come as soon as you can, El. I really need you.

Ellen sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. Then she read the email again, looking for details that might give her a clue as to the type of spirits she’d be dealing with. Huge winged dark shadow that hovers—that could be a fallen angel stalking Adam, following him into the present from a past life. Or, given the fact that Melanie lived out west, it could be an ancient Indian spirit lingering on what was once sacred ground.

As for the crying woman, Ellen knew the options were far more numerous for her. War widow, grieving mother in the bedroom of her long-dead child, or even a lonely woman who had never been able to conceive and was now confronted with the presence night after night of healthy young toddlers who would never be hers.

Adam was six and Amy nearly three, both still at the age when the wall between this life and the world where spirits dwelt was easy to breach. Ellen knew they could be capable of seeing and hearing entities that were invisible to adults… at least to most other adults.

Ellen had the gift—the ability to connect with the spirit realm. As a child, she’d calmly accepted the wide array of strange beings inhabiting the world with her, not realizing for years that everyone else couldn’t see angels or play dollhouse with children from the past like she did. Her parents were indulgent at first, humoring her when she insisted on setting a place for her ‘imaginary’ friends at the dinner table. But as time went on and she showed no sign of giving up what they saw as her delusional behavior, they became worried.

They dragged her to a variety of specialists, from neurosurgeons to psychologists. Brain scans and blood tests showed no anomalies. The psychologists said she seemed to be a normal, well-adjusted child—except for those lengthy conversations she carried on with invisible playmates. They predicted she’d outgrow her fantasy world and recommended that the child spend more time with her peer group.

Eventually, Ellen learned to keep her contacts with otherworldly friends a secret. For years she hid her abilities from everyone, feeling like a freak. When she was a freshman in high school, she finally confided in her best friend Melanie. They were having a sleepover at Melanie’s house and Melanie’s grandmother joined them. The old lady was sweet, but she just wouldn’t quit talking, telling Ellen endless stories about what an
adorable
baby Melanie had been.

Ellen was having a hard time concentrating on what Melanie was saying. Something important about the cute new boy in math class and how he’d been asking Melanie about her. Finally, in exasperation, she turned to the empty corner of the room and said “All right already! Melanie, your grandma wants to know why you never wear that pretty heart-shaped locket she left you.”

Melanie stared at her, mouth agape, and Ellen suddenly realized the danger in what she’d done. She tried to cover it up, but Melanie pestered her relentlessly and Ellen finally confessed her secret. Her friend took it well, asking endless questions and telling her how cool it was. But the next day, Melanie seemed nervous, backing away from any further discussion. Ellen figured she was scared. She discovered that most everyone was when they found out she talked to angels and dead people and even to otherworldly creatures she didn’t have a name for. So she went back to hiding her gift from everyone, never mentioning the assortment of ethereal spirits who wandered in and out through the walls of whatever room she happened to be in at the time.

A few years ago, she’d read a magazine article about Asheville, North Carolina, a picturesque mountain community filled with folks who supported and even sought out people with her unique skills. Two weeks later, she packed up her few belongings, crammed a furious JayJay into a pet carrier, and drove twelve hours straight through from Michigan. She rented a tiny cat-friendly apartment on Craigslist, one within walking distance of the vibrant downtown area. Then she made the rounds of crystal healing stores and psychic gatherings, offering her services to the locals as well as to the throngs of curious tourists who flocked to the mountains.

Now she scraped by performing psychic readings to support her real love—writing. She had half a dozen romance/adventure novels on Amazon, selling her work under a much more glamorous name than Ellen Jacobs. There’d been some minor successes. She even had a few loyal fans who read everything she wrote and left reviews that kept her spirits up on long lonely nights. But she didn’t make enough money writing to keep both her and JayJay in tuna.

Although Ellen was able to predict passionate love affairs for her growing list of clients, her abilities didn’t extend to seeing what the future held for her. It was as though the Spirit had put up a curtain. She could sense it, even feel it. But she couldn’t see what lay beyond it, no matter how hard she tried.

So far, her wildest romantic interludes had all been within the pages of her books. There were a few casual boyfriends in her past. But they had all reacted very much like Melanie—intrigued at first, then backing away when they discovered her gifts were real.

Except in the end, Melanie hadn’t backed away. She stayed a loyal friend… just as long as Ellen promised never again to bring up any of that ‘spooky shtick,’ as Melanie referred to it. That’s why her email came as such a shock. Ellen figured her friend must be seriously frightened to even broach the topic that had been taboo for years.

She checked the flight schedules out of Asheville’s airport and emailed back, telling Melanie there was a flight available that would put her in Dallas the day after tomorrow. Then she made a list of the clients she’d have to reschedule in the morning. When she finally went to bed she tossed and turned for hours, only to dream of a dark, malevolent winged serpent carrying Melanie’s screaming children off into the clouds while she watched, helpless.

Chapter Two

Ellen had visited Melanie several times since her friend married and moved to Texas. But it was a pleasure to fly into the heart of Dallas now that Love Field’s newly remodeled terminal was open. Bright concourses with a variety of restaurants, spacious walkways flooded with light—compared to the huge Dallas-Ft. Worth airport, it was uncrowded and easy to navigate. The central location made it just a short hop to the upscale community of Highland Park where Melanie lived.

Knowing how frantic Melanie was, she’d taken advantage of a last-minute cancellation to move up her arrival time, flying out of Asheville, then changing planes in Houston and securing the last seat to Dallas on an always-crowded early morning commuter flight. It meant waking up at 4 AM, but since she’d hardly slept since she got the email, that wasn’t really a problem. She’d left the key to her apartment with her neighbors downstairs last night. They loved animals and Ellen had a feeling that JayJay would be spoiled rotten by the time she got back.

Ellen hadn’t wanted to disturb her friend’s routine so early, so she decided to grab a cab at the airport and surprise her. With the time change from back east, the morning rush hour was still on. This early in the day, suburban moms were almost outnumbered on the streets. Men in dark pants and blue dress shirts herded little ones to school before they headed to the office, high-fiving each other on last night’s football game as though they were each personally responsible for the Dallas Cowboys’ victory.

Her cab moved slowly along the crowded streets. Mini-mansions were springing up everywhere, crammed onto city lots designed for the modest ranch and two-story homes of the 1950s. According to Melanie, the few small homes still remaining were selling for half a million as tear-downs.

The cab pulled up in front of a pleasant-looking two-story beige brick home with two dormers in the attic. Ellen knew it had been built in the early 1930s. She’d done her homework, Googling Melanie’s address, even checking online Dallas newspaper archives, searching for a clue as to what event might have triggered the presence of the entity she’d be facing. But the newspaper files were no help. The only entry she found on line with that address was the recent Trulia listing and sales information.

An excited Melanie had called her when they bought the place, telling Ellen what a great deal they got on the house. Thanks to her research, Ellen now knew that ‘great deal’ translated to $785,000. She realized David must be doing very well in his job here. For a moment, Ellen had a pang of envy. Here she was—thirty-four years old, unmarried, scraping by in a tiny rented apartment with only a cat for company. Melanie seemed to have it all—a hot hunk of a husband making enough money that she could afford to be a stay-at-home mom to their two adorable kids in this beautiful home.
Too bad my psychic ability doesn’t include choosing winning lottery numbers—or even decent guys,
Ellen thought ruefully.

She got out of the cab just in time to see Melanie dashing up the street, Amy in tow.

“Oh my gosh, you’re here! Why didn’t you call? I’d have picked you up. We were just walking Adam to school, weren’t we, honey?” she said, scooping the sleepy blond toddler into her arms. “Amy
loves
to walk her big brother to school in the mornings. She can’t wait till it’s her turn to go there. You remember Miss Ellen, don’t you, Amy? She and I have been best friends since we were not much older than you are.”

She chattered on, nonstop, never giving either member of her audience time to answer the volley of questions she posed. Ellen smiled and shook her head. Same old Melanie.

“Come on in, girlfriend. I put a pot of coffee on before I left. We can spend a few minutes together before I drive Amy to preschool. Then when I get back we’ll sit and have a nice long
private
chat,” she said, rolling her eyes at the little bundle in her arms.

“Don’t worry,” Ellen replied. “I understand.” She bent her head to drop a kiss on the soft curls. “Hi, Amy,” she said softly. “It’s so nice to see you again. Can we play in your dollhouse when you get home from preschool like we did last time I was here?” Amy nodded shyly, then buried her head in her mother’s shoulder.

“She’ll warm up,” Melanie assured. “It takes a little longer for her to come out of her shell these days.”

Melanie’s normally cheerful voice sounded strained and Ellen could see the worry in her eyes. This timid child was nothing like the exuberant little girl who threw herself into Ellen’s arms the last time she came to visit six months ago. That child had prattled on, talking nonstop just like her mother.

Ellen followed Melanie into the house, stopping dead as she entered the foyer. There was definitely
something
here. She could feel its presence—a dark, heavy energy overpowering the faint rays of sunlight streaming through the leaded glass door. She took a deep breath, asked her Angel spirits to gather around her, and followed Melanie into the kitchen.

Melanie settled the child in front of the TV in the adjoining family room with a bowl of cereal, then poured two cups of coffee. Handing one to Ellen, she sank heavily into the old fashioned built-in banquette in a corner of the kitchen.

“Sorry. I’m exhausted.” She lowered her voice, barely whispering. “Amy had a bad night, sobbing and covering her ears. She said she could hear the lady crying again and begged me to make it stop. She woke Adam and I ended up singing to them and telling them funny stories about you and me until daybreak.”