‘Is everything alright Fiona?’ Olivia asked as she approached the distracted woman.
‘Yes, yes,’ she answered absently although her eyes seemed firmly fixed on the waters of the lake.
‘What is it?’
Fiona turned to Olivia and stuck her hands in her pocket jingling her keys restlessly.
‘Nothing,’ she replied, ‘shall we have a look in the kitchen then?’
‘Sure.’
Olivia turned back towards the house and followed Theo up the steps to the porch. She could hear a scrambling of claws on wood followed by an enthusiastic bark and as Theo opened the front door Beau shot out past them heading straight for Fiona.
‘Well hello young man,’ she laughed delightedly and hunkered down to his level while he jumped up at her and tried to lick her face. ‘You’re a handsome chap aren’t you.’
‘His name is Beau,’ Olivia told her.
‘It certainly suits him,’ she laughed standing and heading up the steps with the puppy following her happily.
Fiona stepped across the threshold and stood in the hallway. She removed her purple hat and several hairpins dropped harmlessly to the floor. Her crazy iron grey beehive, streaked with the odd stripe of pure white, stood out in all directions making her look like a banshee.
‘Shall I take your coat for you?’ Theo asked politely.
‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘no need I won’t be staying, I don’t like to leave the cats for too long.’
‘Well the kitchen’s through this way,’ Olivia indicated.
‘I remember well enough,’ Fiona replied jovially and sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Is this the only place she has manifested?’
‘Yes,’ Olivia nodded behind her.
Olivia watched in fascination as Fiona stepped into the room and inhaled deeply.
‘I see there are protection wards around the house, they weren’t here before.’
‘No, they’re mine; I put them around the house when the murders were going on.’
‘I see.’
‘How much do you know?’ Olivia asked curiously, ‘how much did my aunt actually tell you?’
‘I know about the demon, I also know that he has escaped. I felt it the moment he set foot on Mercy soil.’
‘Well, I set the wards around the house to keep out any supernatural creatures. What I don’t understand is how the girl’s spirit was able to cross the line.’
‘She didn’t,’ Fiona turned back to face Olivia.
‘What do you mean?’ she frowned.
‘She didn’t cross the line, she has been here all along,’ Fiona told her seriously. ‘When you raised the protective circle around the house all you did was trap her on the inside.’
‘Oh.’
‘Although,’ she mused, ‘I don’t know that your wards would have made much of a difference anyway. You said you adapted it to keep out supernatural creatures?’
‘Yes.’
‘Spirits aren’t technically supernatural creatures; even though they’re deceased they were still once human.’
‘Great,’ Olivia muttered sourly.
Fiona turned back to continue her thorough perusal of the room. She crouched low to the ground, her knees cracking loudly as she did. She placed her hand on the floor and closed her eyes.
‘She’s always been here,’ she murmured, ‘this was her home once.’
‘Do you know who she is?’
Fiona opened her eyes and stood.
‘She’s yours,’ she replied, ‘she’s a West, I can feel that much. I can’t seem to get her name though, which is strange. Usually that’s the first thing I pick up on.’
‘She won’t tell you?’ Olivia frowned.
Fiona shook her head. ‘It’s more like she can’t tell me; something or someone is stopping her.’
‘Someone?’ her eyes widened.
‘I can sense more than one presence in this house.’
‘Well that makes me feel better,’ she muttered sarcastically.
‘Do you recall anyone in your family ever mentioning a girl in your family who drowned in the lake?’
Olivia cast her mind back for a moment and then shook her head in frustration.
‘No, I don’t remember anything like that. Is that what happened to her then? She drowned in the lake?’
‘Yes,’ Fiona nodded slowly, ‘it may have been an accident, or maybe not. I can sense her spirit is restless, for whatever reason she never passed over to the other side but remained here, tied to this house. Up until now she has been dormant,’ she tapped her chin thoughtfully, ‘what happened to change that? What pushed her out of her pattern?’
‘The demon rising?’ Theo suggested.
‘Maybe,’ she mused, ‘you said you felt like she was trying to tell you something?’
Olivia nodded.
‘Yes, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Water just kept pouring from her mouth.’
‘She’s trapped in a cycle, reliving her last few moments of life. You have to understand spirits aren’t linear as you and I are. Time has no meaning for them, nor does reality. They often get confused and don’t make sense. If this poor unfortunate girl has been trapped in a death cycle she wouldn’t have been aware of any living person in this house, which would probably account for why no one has mentioned her. She hasn’t shown herself to anyone else, so the question is why did she show herself to you?’
Olivia blew out an exasperated breath and cast her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Why is it always me?’ she sighed.
‘That my dear,’ she replied sympathetically, ‘is a question I can’t answer for you. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You said she is trying to tell you something, so listen. Sooner or later she’ll show up again.’
‘Thanks,’ she replied dryly, ‘that’ll help me sleep better at night.’
‘Here,’ she dived into her deep skirt pocket and handed Olivia a slightly rumpled scrap of paper. ‘Don’t call the number on the newspaper ad, that’s the line for clients and I don’t always answer. This is my personal number; call me anytime day or night if you need to. In the meantime I suggest you try and figure out who she is.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘I didn’t get much from her, but I will go out on a limb here and place her sometime at the end of the nineteenth century beginning of the twentieth. We know she was part of your family and that she was around eighteen when she died. We also know she drowned. It’s a start, so look at your family history, the history of the town, at anyone who drowned in the lake. Sooner or later we’ll find out who she is, maybe that’ll be enough to put her spirit to rest. Sometimes spirits just want to be acknowledged.’
‘But you don’t think so,’ Olivia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, ‘do you?’
‘No I don’t,’ Fiona shook her head, ‘I think it took something pretty significant to break a spirit out of a death cycle. She is trying to reach out to you for a reason, we just need to figure out what that reason is.’
‘I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘Good,’ she nodded in approval, resuming her usual brisk business-like tone. ‘I must be going now, Theodore, if you wouldn’t mind walking me out.’
‘Certainly,’ he turned to lead her back out of the room as she said goodbye to Olivia.
Fiona followed him to the door, pulling the purple hat out of her pocket and yanking it down over her ears.
‘A word if you don’t mind Theodore,’ she marched past him and out onto the snow covered porch.
Theo stepped out behind her curiously and pulled the door to.
‘Is there something I can help you with Ms Caldwell?’
‘Fiona,’ she corrected in a clipped tone, ‘I have a question.’
‘Okay?’
‘When are you going to tell Olivia about your wife?’
Theo’s eyes widened in shock and then darkened. His
back stiffened and his jaw clenched.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes you do boy, don’t play the innocent with me,’ her eyes narrowed. ‘You need to tell Olivia about Mary.’
His arms crossed in front of his chest as he regarded her dangerously.
‘Olivia doesn’t need to know.’
‘Yes she does,’ Fiona puffed out her chest drawing herself up to full height and still she only reached Theo’s chest. ‘You need to tell her about your wife…about what happened to her.’
His eyes flashed angrily and his mouth tightened into a thin line.
‘Olivia will never find out about that.’
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Fiona muttered irritably, ‘I have no intention of telling her but you should. If you don’t you’ll lose her.’
‘If I tell her I’ll lose her,’ Theo replied quietly.
‘That’s her choice to make,’ she told him pointedly, ‘not yours.’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘Nothing, for now,’ she regarded him with dark serious eyes, ‘but I will give you a warning. The dead never stay dead; your visitation last night should have taught you that. The past has a way of refusing to stay buried. The truth will out boy,’ her voice dropped low as she turned towards the steps, ‘you would do well to remember that.’
Chapter 3
It had been two days since Fiona’s visit. Two frustrating days, Olivia thought as she slammed another journal shut, and still she hadn’t found any clue as to who her mystery ghost was. To make matters worse, for the past few days Theo had been surly and withdrawn which was unlike him. He’d disappeared into the dining room which they had cleared to make into a studio for him. Whatever was on his mind he seemed to be working through it by painting so she’d left him to it. But she missed talking to him, having him to bounce ideas off.
Leaning back in her chair she took a deep breath; she was getting nowhere. She’d been through all the family records she could find, as well as her grandmother and her great aunt’s journals, but there were quite literally hundreds of years of the West’s history tucked up in her library and they were in no kind of order. It would take her years at this rate to make sense of her family history.
There was one avenue she could explore although she had been deliberately putting it off. If the girl had drowned in the lake, whether it was a suspicious or accidental death, there should have been an investigation, especially as the victim belonged to one of the founding families of Mercy. At the very least there should have been a police report somewhere. It was time to stop avoiding everyone. She was going to have to go and see Jake to ask for his help.
Closing the journal she pushed back from the desk and stood, stretching out the kinks in her back. Wondering what Theo was up to she wandered into the dining room and stopped in the doorway to watch him for a moment. He was asleep in the deep tatty chair they had hauled in from the parlour and placed in front of the huge bay window. His head had fallen back against the threadbare cushion and his chest rose and fell in slow measured breaths. An open sketchbook lay in his lap and a pencil dangled from his loose fingertips.
Frowning she watched him in silence, she knew he wasn’t sleeping at night. She’d felt him toss and turn restlessly next to her and a few times he’d even given in and disappeared into the dining room to paint into the small hours of the morning. But whatever it was that plagued his thoughts he refused to open up to her. She’d tried to be understanding and give him some space, hoping that he would talk to her, but so far he showed absolutely no inclination to speak of it.
She stepped into the room and walked quietly across to him. An easel stood in the centre of the room with a canvas resting on it. She guessed from the wet paint blotted on the floor that he’d spent the morning painting. Although burning curiosity gnawed at her she resisted the urge to lift the sheet covering his latest creation. She knew if he’d covered it he didn’t want anyone seeing it. Resolutely turning her back on it and avoiding the paint splatters on the floor, she crossed over to stand beside him. Beau slept curled up at his feet as if he were guarding him and as she reached them the dog opened a sleepy eye. Lifting his head to look at her he thumped his tail on the floor a couple of times in greeting then laid his head back down on Theo’s feet and promptly went back to sleep.
She gazed down at his face, aware of the frown which marred his brow. Whatever he was dreaming about it wasn’t peaceful. Reaching out with gentle fingers she smoothed back the dark lock of hair which had fallen forward onto his face. Her gaze was drawn down to the open sketchpad in his lap where he had drawn a very detailed gnarled ancient looking tree on a hilltop. From its lower branches hung several nooses.
Frowning Olivia reached out, her fingers closing around the book so she could get a closer look. As she tried to lift it Theo’s hand shot out and grasped her wrist firmly. He silently looked up at her with unreadable dark eyes; wordlessly he took the pad from her and closed it.
‘That was Gallows Hill wasn’t it?’ she whispered.
He stood abruptly, causing Beau to scramble out of his way and turning away he placed the sketchpad on top of the pads he had stacked on the table, dropping his pencil back in the pot with the others. Although she could argue he was just tidying his things away, it felt like he’d slammed a door in her face.
‘I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you,’ she spoke so quietly he almost missed it.
He released a slow breath and turned back to her. ‘There is nothing bothering me.’
‘No lies Theo, isn’t that what we agreed.’
‘We also agreed we didn’t have to share everything.’
‘Fine,’ she answered in a clipped tone forcing back the sudden sting of hurt. She wasn’t used to him shutting her out and after the lies and betrayal of her parents, his slight cut deep.
‘Suit yourself, I’m going out.’
She turned and walked out of the room without waiting for his response. She stalked out into the hallway and yanked on her coat, thrusting her feet into her boots. Picking up her keys and purse she was about to open the door when she heard his voice behind her, low and troubled.
‘Don’t leave like this Livy.’
She closed her eyes and leaned against the door, feeling a heavy weight settle on her chest.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she replied quietly, ‘I’m sorry I disturbed you.’
She moved to grasp the handle of the door but suddenly found herself trapped by Theo’s body against her back and his arms either side of her, his palms pressed flat against the wood of the door.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
‘What’s going on Theo?’ she turned her head so she was looking into his eyes. ‘You’ve been ignoring me for days.’
‘It’s…’ he shook his head unable to find the words, ‘it’s not you it’s me.’
Not wanting to hear him give her the old brush off speech she abruptly turned away from him. She opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it, not trusting the words that might tumble out. Her chest was tight with need and an uncomfortable ball of emotion burned at the back of her throat. Suddenly she found herself blinking back tears. Determined not to let him see her cry she shoved him back and yanked the door open.
‘I’ll be back later,’ she muttered as she stepped out on the porch, unable to look back as she headed towards her car.
Theo sucked in a breath as she slammed the door in his face, pressing his forehead against the door much as she had, his fist clenched in anger. Dammit, he’d hurt her, he knew he had. Turning around he slumped back against the door and rubbed his hands over his face in frustration.
What the hell was he doing?
He let his head fall back against the wood with a dull thud and dragged in a deep breath. He knew he’d been pushing her away and he hadn’t meant to. He just didn’t know what to do. The crazy physic woman was right he did need to tell he
r about Mary but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was his deepest darkest sin, the one thing he was most ashamed of. If Olivia ever found out the truth about what he’d done he didn’t see how she could possibly forgive him, especially as he’d never been able to forgive himself.
The truth was he didn’t want her to know. Their relationship was still so new, not that she would even admit they were in a relationship. Whenever he tried to bring the subject up she simply shut down or changed the subject. She seemed content to just coast along enjoying each other without any of the work and commitment that came with loving another person, not that she would admit that either. He tried not to let it bother him, tried to give her time but he had to admit it stung that she couldn’t say the three little words he was desperate to hear from her.
He pushed away from the door and moved back into his studio. Stopping in front of the easel he dragged the sheet off the canvas and stared into the one face in the world he wanted to forget.
Icy blue eyes stared coldly back at him framed by a pale face. Her blonde hair was tucked neatly under a plain linen cap; although only her shoulders were visible he knew she wore a dark severe dress.
Theo continued to stare at the portrait of his wife. He should never have painted it; he wasn’t even sure why he had. Unable to sleep and plagued by guilt, nightmares had driven him from his and Olivia’s bed. He’d wanted to turn to Olivia so badly, to breathe her in, to feel her soft warm skin against his, to lose himself in her. But he couldn’t while his mind was trapped in the past. He wouldn’t let it touch her, wouldn’t let what he had done taint her in any way.
He’d started to paint; unaware of what he was creating until Mary’s face emerged to stare at him accusingly. Unable to stand looking at her a moment longer he picked up the first tube of paint he could reach, regardless of the colour, and squeezed it into his palm. Swiping his hand across the picture in a jagged motion he watched as part of her face disappeared behind a violent slash of red. How apt he thought to himself dryly. Picking up another tube again he squeezed out the contents into his hand and this time swiped a blue streak across the canvas. Lost now in a maelstrom of conflicted emotions he grabbed tubes of colour at random and continued to rake his hands across the canvas in the most primitive way until nothing was left but a mad riot of colours.
The Ferryman (The Guardians Series 1 Book 2) Page 3
