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Monday, April 21, 2014

Do you believe in ghosts?

Hello everyone,
Jaxx Steele back atcha to bring you my little ghost story, Ghost of a Second Chance. Before I started writing this story had someone asked me if I believed in ghosts my immediate answer would have been: no, of course not. However, my muse and I are hardly ever on the same page.
Although I am still sticking to my guns and saying no way, a trip to the beautiful city of New Orleans has given my muse pause. The city is rich in history, architecture, wonderful food and, of course, voo-doo lure, my muse has decided it could be possible. So, during the course of this book this little disagreement between us carried on via the main characters. The ghost, trying to convince our leading man, Carter, that not only does he exist, but to get Carter to help free him.It is not a ghost story to frighten or keep you on the edge of your seat, or will you have nightares following the 'the end'. This is a story of seduction, acceptance, destined love and the ability to take a leap of faith. If you’re looking for a ghost story to make you go hmmm, this may be for you.

Carter took a few deep breaths. “Are you a cheater?” he blurted out.
Priscilla’s brow rose. “A what?”
Carter pressed his lips together as he thought. “A treater? Teeter? Trimmer? No, wait, that’s not right. I’m still saying it wrong. Treemer?”
Treetar?” she suggested.
“Yes!” he shouted pointing at her. “That’s it. A Treetar. Are you a Treetar…whatever that is?”
Priscilla sat erect with her hands flat on the desk. Her features remained neutral as her eyes seemed to scan Carter’s face.  “Yes, I am, but how do you know that?” she asked with an arched brow.
Carter swallowed loudly. “Well, umm, someone told me,” he answered in a small voice. Her head tilted.
Carter nodded.  Priscilla stared at him for a while longer before she spoke again.
“You’ve been contacted by a ghost, haven’t you?”
Carter was suddenly afraid, but he didn’t know why. He gripped the arms of the chair and pressed himself back. Priscilla was a beautiful, and so far, nice woman. He had no reason to fear her, but he had been feeling an abundance of strange emotions since his first visit to the Ledux House. Forcing himself to relax, he nodded.
“Yeah. How did you know?”
Priscilla smiled. “Well since you have only been in town a day or so, it was safe to assume no person told you, for very few know that I am. Ghosts usually send people to Treetars for help, Carter. We use our magic to help those in need. Do you know who the ghost was?”
“Yeah, he says his name was Jean-Pierre. He used to work in this house for André Ledux.”
His statement caused her eyes to widen. “Really? Then you must have encountered him here on your last visit.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Tell me, has he said anything else to you?”
“Yeah, a bunch actually. He said he and André were lovers and that he didn’t die from a fall. He was beaten by three men and died on the steps from his injuries. Jean-Pierre thinks some woman had him attacked because she found out about them. He died on the back steps trying to get back into the house.”
Priscilla’s mouth fell open. “That would have been a major scandal had anyone found out about Mr. Ledux and Jean-Pierre. No wonder she had him killed. If anyone had found out that Mr. Ledux was gay it would have ruined his reputation thus shutting the door on what she could get from him.”
Carter jumped back with a scoff. “What? You can’t possibly—”
Priscilla raised a hand. “No, no. Of course I don’t agree with her decision. I’m just saying I understand it. Money and power has always corrupted people. Clearly this woman didn’t care that she killed the love of André’s life. It’s also obvious that she didn’t love him. She just wanted him for his money and status.”
“The love of his life?”
“Yes, don’t you remember? I said Mr. Ledux was inconsolable at the death of his butler? Now we know why.”
“Oh yeah.” That also explained the sadness in André’s eyes in the last picture. By then Jean-Pierre was already dead.
“I have just the spell that will send Jean-Pierre’s spirit to where he is most needed. And you’re just the person to help with it.” 
Carter sprang to his feet. “Whoa. Hold on, Priscilla. I didn’t agree to help with any voodoo or anything crazy like that.”
Priscilla eased her chair back letting it bounce on its hinges as she eyed him. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time believing all of this ghost stuff,” Carter said, shaking his head.
“A nonbeliever is needed in a situation like this.” 
“A situation like what?”
She sat her chair upright. “Jean-Pierre is not supposed to be here, Carter. He’s trapped here because his life was stolen from him. He sent you to me in hopes that I have a spell that will give him a second chance at life and I do.”
Carter palmed the desk glaring at her. “Jean-Pierre is dead, Priscilla. You can’t come back to life when you’re dead. You go to Heaven or Hell or something!”
Priscilla rose to meet his stare. “If that is your belief, that’s fine. You are entitled to it, but there are things that operate outside of what you are prepared to believe. Jean-Pierre didn’t just die.” She poked the desk accentuating each word. “He was killed. He didn’t live his life out to its end. Someone else ended it and needlessly I might add. His soul needs to be freed.” 
Carter pushed away from the desk with a groan. He paced the floor quietly. “But why me, Priscilla?” he asked, palming his chest. “I don’t even live here. I’m just passing through. Thousands of people must have come through here since he died. Why did he choose me?”
Priscilla shrugged. “I don’t know, Carter. Perhaps he senses a kindred spirit in you. It could simply be because you’re Mr. Ledux’s descendent, or maybe there is something special about you that drew him to you. Your strength, your courage—all of this is conjecture on my part. I don’t know really why, but he did. The question now is will you do what it takes to help me free him?” Priscilla asked folding her arms. 
Carter’s heart raced. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his fingers gripped the back of his seat. Rocking his head back and forth, he played devil’s advocate with his conscious. He closed his eyes against the spinning sensation threatening to overtake him. 
What am I involving myself in? Is this really happening? 
Just get up and leave, man. 
I can’t just leave. Jean-Pierre needs my help.
Jean-Pierre isn’t real! He can’t ask for help.
But he has asked.
I’m going home tomorrow. I can’t be doing whatever this woman has in mind to help a ghost. What if I get hurt doing it? Who will help me? 
Carter’s inner thoughts silenced abruptly when his eyes popped open. He straightened his head to look at Priscilla.
“I’ll do it,” he told with finality.
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