Otherworldly [McKnight, Perth & Daire 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  McKnight, Perth & Daire 1

  Otherworldly

  Charlotte Perth is all about sass because her job is reminds her all too well the limits of human life. She’s clairvoyant, but her gift is unique. She can only summon murdered souls and interprets the visions they send her. When she’s hired by a wealthy woman to determine the fate of her great-nephew, little does Charlotte realize this is one ghost that refuses to cross over.

  Detective Jonas Daire feels Charlotte is a fake, out to swindle money from his rich aunt. When Charlotte proclaims the nephew is not only dead but has been murdered, Jonas feels especially disgusted at Charlotte’s “profession.” But when his cousin’s body is discovered in the place that she said it would be, with detailed accounts of how he died, he places her under suspicion.

  Jonas and Charlotte work together to find the killer. As the two grow closer together, another malevolent force won’t stop until the truth is buried…until Charlotte’s ghostly visions are her own.

  Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal

  Length: 47,891 words

  OTHERWORLDLY

  McKnight, Perth & Daire 1

  Beth D. Carter

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  OTHERWORLDLY

  Copyright © 2013 by Beth D. Carter

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-796-3

  First E-book Publication: April 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Otherworldly by Beth D. Carter from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Beth D. Carter’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Carter’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  How many times can I say thank you, Lark?

  Not enough. Oh, and game night totally rocks.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Thank you for purchasing Otherworldly. This is book one in a three part series featuring vivacious Charlotte Perth. In book one, she meets Jonas Daire, handsome homicide detective and we’re given a glimpse of Agent Nash McKnight, the hero she gets to work with in book two, Hereafter. Their attraction explodes as they try to solve a case that has more turns than the Mississippi River. In book three, Breathless, Charlotte finally confronts not only her own almost murder, but the feelings she has for these two strong men.

  If you’re curious to the back stories alluded throughout the books, you can catch up on them. In The Scarlet Dove, I set up the powerful Hawke Securities Agency, which is a fictional blending of the FBI’s power and the Pinkerton Detective Agency’s accessibility. HS Agents have the respect and authority in various aspects of law enforcement for the private sector. The Song Bird is the story on how the wealthy Braddock-Masters clan came to the Pacific Northwest. And in book two, the murders take place in Rock Ridge, Missouri, a town created for the backdrop of Lawless Hearts.

  Happy reading!

  OTHERWORLDLY

  McKnight, Perth & Daire 1

  BETH D. CARTER

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  The house reminded her of a long-forgotten museum. As she drove through the large, opulent gates, Charlotte caught a glimpse of the Braddock-Masters mansion through the heavy foliage of the numerous trees lining the curving driveway. It had just finished raining, and everything shimmered with new dew drops, making it seem like a whimsical fairytale. Big. White. A castle for a princess.

  A castle maybe, but an empty one. Not a soul stirred. No one tended the lawn. No one greeted her at the gate. The wind whispered through the trees, raining down the lingering drops of water onto her car. It reminded her of tears.

  She pulled around the circular drive and parked at the base of the marble steps. Golden urns sat as bookends on every other step with vibrant flowers breaking up the color palate. As she stepped out of her rental, she took a moment just to take in the enormity of the palace in front of her, something that seemed so out of place in this lush forest of green.

  She’d never had such a wealthy client, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. No matter the outcome of her visit, this was going to be a high-profile case. No one this wealthy could disappear without media attention. Charlotte climbed the steps and rang the bell, waiting. A moment later a man opened the door and gestured her in. He had the dour look one expected of a butler, bland features smoothed without expression, and he was wearing an impeccably pressed suit. She half expected him to bow.

  “I’m Charlotte Perth, here to see Mrs. Braddock-Masters.”

  “This way,” he said in a scratchy tone, as if his voice didn’t get much use. “She is expecting you.”

  As he escorted Charlotte through the home of Mrs. Alice Braddock-Masters, her footfalls echoed on the marble floor, and she felt something drawing her. Not a pull, but something…intangible. She caught a glimpse of herself in an ornate mirror, heavily gilded with the corners turning foggy from time, a silent testament to stories it held within its reflective surface. The paintings on the walls showed the long line of Braddock-Masters ancestors, a pictorial history ripe with handsome men and regal women.

  At the far end of the foyer, a grand staircase curved to
the second floor, but the butler stopped at a set of French doors on the left. He opened them to the den, an affluent room with Carpathian elm wainscoting and matching furniture.

  Mrs. Alice Braddock-Masters came from old money, and it showed in every line of her distinguished face, from the perfectly coiffed hair to her delicate bone structure. She sat ramrod straight, her ankles crossed and her hands folded demurely in her lap, her blue eyes assessing Charlotte up and down. Charlotte took a deep breath and didn’t fidget, knowing a positive first impression was key in her line of work.

  “Welcome, Miss Perth,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters greeted. She waved to the chair opposite her. “Please, sit and relax. Tea?”

  A tea service rested upon the coffee table, the cups already on the saucers, with cream, sugar, and honey nearby. Even the China tea set laid out on the coffee table had the cracking of age and not from modern décor.

  “Yes, please,” Charlotte answered. “Just cream.” She crossed the room and sat in the plush velvet-covered chair. She placed her purse on the floor next to her before concentrating on the older woman who watched her curiously.

  She knew she was a bit of a surprise. Most of her clients expected a very ordinary American woman, not an Asian looking pixie girl. Charlotte’s eyes were wide and almond shaped, her hair cut shoulder length with a swash of bangs hanging over her forehead. She liked to dress conservative for clients, mainly in tans and whites, but personally she preferred a little edgier fashion, dark colors, and knock-off brand name shoes.

  “Thank you for coming all this way,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters murmured as she handed Charlotte her tea. “My other nephew, Jonas, thinks I’ve fallen off my rocker, but it’s been six weeks without a single word from Zach.”

  Charlotte took one obligatory sip before setting down her cup and saucer. Her gaze flickered over the older woman’s pale lavender dress suit and the deep violet amethyst earrings peeking through the hair. Mrs. Braddock-Masters sat calm and composed, without a shred of emotion upon her face.

  “I’ll help if I can,” she told her. “As I said in my letter, if I can’t help you, then there will be no charge for my visit with you today.”

  “I agreed with your terms,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters said with a wave of her hand. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you can’t help me, Miss Perth.”

  Charlotte gave her a gentle smile. “Me, too. Believe me, this is not a job I enjoy doing.”

  Mrs. Braddock-Masters opened her mouth to say something, but a commotion in the hallway caused Charlotte to turn. The den doors were thrown open, and in walked a magnificent mountain of a man. The room suddenly felt smaller as he looked at her and she at him. Charlotte thought it clichéd to think him tall, dark, and handsome, but that described him exactly. He had dark hair cut short and combed back, chocolate-brown eyes, and a square jaw that she suspected needed to be shaved twice a day. His charcoal suit tailored his body perfectly, showing off wide shoulders and a narrow waist. And he frowned at her as if she had done something naughty.

  “Miss Perth, this is my other nephew, Jonas Daire. Jonas, this is—”

  “Aunt Alice,” Jonas interrupted, looking away from Charlotte. “What are you doing?”

  “Miss Perth has come to help me find Zach.”

  He shot Charlotte a furious look. “We’ll find him. You don’t need to hire another charlatan.”

  “Excuse me,” Charlotte said, standing and holding out her hand. “My name is Charlotte Perth. There’s no need for name calling.”

  “Listen,” he snapped at her, ignoring her offered hand. “In the past six weeks my aunt has hired every fraud out there calling themselves a psychic in hopes of finding Zach.”

  “I understand it’s been difficult,” Charlotte replied, keeping her voice soft and compassionate as she lowered her arm. “But I only want to help.”

  “And I’m sure for a lovely price you will be more than helpful,” he said scornfully. “So what will it be? Séance? A trance? Or channeling, perhaps? Yes, I’ve done my research on so-called psychics.”

  “Unfortunately there are many frauds out there,” she said. “But I’m not psychic.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “So what do you do?”

  “I’m clairvoyant,” Charlotte answered and then braced herself. Over the years she’d gotten many different responses. Some people ran laughing from the room, some blessed themselves and started quoting the bible. It was hard to gauge what Jonas Daire would do.

  “What exactly does that mean?” he asked, frowning.

  Charlotte sat back down in her chair. She picked up her tea cup and took a fortifying sip before replacing it. Then she leaned back and crossed her legs before looking up at Jonas.

  “Clairvoyance means clear seeing, not talking. And if your cousin is dead then he may be trying to share a message the only way he can. The dead don’t talk, Mr. Daire, at least not like you and I.”

  “There’s always a chance my cousin is still alive.”

  “I certainly hope that’s the case,” she told him.

  The man crossed his arms. “Then how do they talk, Miss Perth?”

  “Some communicate like you said, through channeling or séances. But most use visions, and that’s what I can see.”

  She saw derision flare back to life in his eyes. “And for a fee you’ll continue to see these visions and interpret them, right?”

  “Actually, payment falls under client confidentiality,” she replied calmly. “And Mrs. Braddock-Masters has agreed to that, so I’ll not be discussing that with you.”

  His lips compressed. “So, is Zach around? Or maybe my great-uncle Peter. He died about ten years ago and could be lingering around here somewhere.”

  “My specialty is spirits who’ve been murdered.”

  Jonas sucked in a breath and sat down next to his aunt on the sofa. “That’s not funny, Miss Perth.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You do realize I’m a homicide detective, don’t you?”

  “No,” she replied. “I didn’t know.”

  “So what exactly do you plan to do, Miss Perth? How does this work?” The scorn in his tone was unmistakable.

  “Well,” she said calmly. “It’s flashes. Memories. The last few seconds of life are the strongest, and that’s what I use to focus on to tap into where the body is.” She saw him blanch as his mouth firmed into a hard line. Charlotte looked around the room. “There doesn’t seem to be anything of Zach’s in the room.”

  “No,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters said softly. “There isn’t.”

  “May I have something personal of his?”

  Mrs. Braddock-Masters rose and walked to the door. She conferred with someone, probably the butler, and when she turned back around she held a ring in her hand. Charlotte felt herself being tugged toward it and her heart sank.

  “Zach’s college ring,” Jonas said, his eyes transfixed on the bulky piece of jewelry.

  Mrs. Braddock-Masters held out her hand to Charlotte, offering it to her. Charlotte took a deep breath. “If Zach has something to share, he’ll come to me. I may say things that make no sense to you or act like I’m somewhere different. If Zach died of natural causes then I won’t be able to summon him at all.”

  “Or he might still be alive,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters murmured.

  Charlotte nodded and smiled softly at the older woman, not wanting to shatter her hope just yet. “That is, of course, the best outcome.”

  Charlotte braced herself and picked up the ring. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Almost immediately, she felt coldness settle into her chest, and when she opened her eyes she was no longer in Alice Braddock-Masters’s opulent den. Instead, she stood in an abandoned warehouse, the cold quickly seeping through her thin shirt and dress pants.

  “Hello?” she called out, her echo fanning out in the empty vastness. Only silence greeted her.

  Far ahead she saw a light flicker, and she started walking toward it.

  “There’s a funn
y smell here,” she said. “Oil, maybe. Maybe a faint trace of gasoline.” She looked up and saw a few chains hanging from the ceiling. “There are crossbeams, with chains.”

  The light flickered more urgently, so she hurried forward, crossing though a patch of light. She paused and looked up, holding her hand up to shield her eyes. “It’s so bright right here, but everything around me is so dark.”

  As she continued, the light managed to stay just out of reach, and she respected its wishes, following at discreet distance. It turned a corner, so Charlotte hurried up, not wanting to lose sight of it.

  But when she went around the corner as well, she stopped suddenly. There was a large crevice in the ground, filled with water. Charlotte’s heart thundered heavily, and her feet would not allow her to walk forward. There was absolutely no way she would go near that pool of brackish water.

  But the light flared brighter, morphing until Zach Braddock-Masters’ ghost stood staring down into the smooth depths.

  “Are you in that water?” she asked.

  Zach nodded.

  “Do you know who did this to you?”

  Zach didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure if either he didn’t know or just didn’t know how to show it.

  “We’ll find you, Zach.”

  One minute Zach stood near the water and the next he stood in front of her, practically touching her nose with his. His eyes were cloudy, as if death had already started eating at him in the afterlife, but the panic shining from them couldn’t be misinterpreted. He shook his head and held a finger to his lips then flashed out of sight. The brightness had her shielding her eyes, and when she opened them the warehouse had disappeared and Charlotte found herself back in Alice Braddock-Masters’ house, only she was no longer in the den but in the formal dining room. Her belly rested against the mahogany table. Mrs. Braddock-Masters and Jonas stood behind her.