Free Gatekeeper by Debra Glass Page B

fear to find you. You can stop with the sisterly ribbing now.”
    “But Jillian, Benton is your Gatekeeper. He’ll protect you. You should keep this with you. I don’t think he’s ready to go into the Light—yet.”
    Gatekeeper…
    She inhaled at the memory of her dream. Gatekeeper.
    Her body heated when she recalled how it had felt to come with her legs wrapped around his tight body. She caught herself and forced the memories away. This was crazy. She wasn’t one of Amy’s desperate clients who wanted to connect with the great beyond.
    “No, Amy. I made a promise to him that if he helped me, I would help him. He told me he wanted to go to the Light and you’re the only person I know who can send him.”
    Amy gave her a weak smile.
    The door swung open and a nurse blustered in. “Oh, Miss Drew. You’re lookin’ all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. How you feelin’?”
    “Tired.”
    “Well that’s good, sweetie. You’re supposed to be tired,” the nurse said and offered her a tiny paper pill cup. “The doctor ordered something to help you rest.”
    Jillian helped Amy sit enough to down the pill, avoiding looking at Amy’s broken, jagged nails where she’d tried to dig out of the coffin. Amy chased it with some water and then Jillian lowered her gently back to the pillow.
    “Honey, you can go on home now. What we gave your sister is gonna knock her out for the night. That officer outside the door says he’s gonna stand guard.”
    “But—”
    “I’ll be fine, Jillian. Really. You look beat. Go home. Get some sleep.”
    Exhaustion had finally caught up with her and now she was bone tired. The idea of getting out of her muddy, damp clothes and sinking up to her neck in a steaming hot bath was more than appealing.
    She leaned over to give Amy a quick kiss on the forehead but Amy pulled her into a tight hug.
    A little sob tore from Jillian’s throat at the sudden display of affection. But it was more than that. “Tell Benton I’ll miss him.”
    * * * * *
     
    Her Manolo Blahnik pumps were ruined. “Oh well,” Jillian said as she reluctantly tossed them in the waste can. Expensive shoes could easily be replaced.
    The soggy Chanel sweater lay in a blue pile at her bare feet. Maybe the dry cleaners could salvage it but she doubted it. She slipped off her taupe trousers and held them up. Wrecked. Totally. Besides being waterlogged with rain, a nasty grass stain marred one knee. Another dark stain saturated the back of the right leg. But it wasn’t mud. Jillian peered closer.
    It was blood. Her blood.
    She dropped the pants to the floor and propped her foot on the side of the tub. Three vicious, deep claw marks etched an ugly red path down her calf. She hadn’t noticed the wound in the mêlée but now it stung painfully.
    Sirius hopped up on the edge of the tub and batted at the running water but Jillian knew what he really wanted was a good rubbing behind the ears. He purred at her touch but his contentment was short lived. His green-eyed stare darted to something Jillian could not see. Hissing and fur flying, he darted off the tub and out of the bathroom.
    “Goofy cat, it’s just the storm.” Thunder and lightning raged outside but Jillian wasn’t about to let anything come between her and a hot bath.
    She shucked off her bra and let it fall to the floor, intent on stepping into the tub, but her gaze caught something in the mirror—a fleeting glimpse of a shadow behind her. With a gasp, she whirled around.
    No one.
    Her heart thudded against her rib cage. She’d been so certain. Still the hairs on her arm rose with a static charge. Had one of those graveyard ghouls followed her home? She shuddered at the thought. Maybe she’d given up that button too soon. “Is anyone there?” she asked, very aware she was wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy purple panties and no bra.
    Instinctively, she covered her breasts with her hands. “What do you want?”
    But no answer came to her, psychically or