I didn't want to die the way the others had. Out of loyalty to Duncan or hatred of his father, they'd put themselves between the earl and me. Had he killed his own son? As I wept yet again at the thought of Duncan, my feelings hardened. What would the old man do to find me? How far would he go for the return of his money? No, my money now.
If I sent it back to him, I wondered, would he lose interest in me? Would I be safe to live my life without his shadow hanging over me? I didn't think so. It wasn't just money that had dictated his actions. He was hungry for power, and not just the power of this world. He would want the talisman. Nor would he forget being bested, let alone forgive the person who'd done it.
I would have to remain hidden while he lived.
I started to plan after a few more days. I needed a new identity, something untraceable that wouldn't show my arrival in the States. Duncan or David, or someone ordered by one or both of them had set up the bank accounts as foundations and I was the only signatory on the accounts. I would have to find a way to change my access information, which also was contingent upon a new identity. When I'd accomplished these things, I would decide what activity to take up in order to fade into my surroundings.
I found a comfortable apartment near one of the colleges located in the city, and when the fall term began, I enrolled there. Mum had long encouraged me to improve myself and at last I had the means to do so. I was older than many of the students, but I made some friends and had a life of sorts. I never forgot I was a hunted woman as long as the old earl was alive. I hired a clipping service to send newspaper articles about him and the other villagers by way of a post office box. As the war wound to an end, he was less seen in public. There'd been questions asked about his activities as England fought to survive the war. I read nothing about consequences for his actions, but his absence on the scene hinted at an exile of sorts.
The greatest difficulty for me was to avoid hatred for Duncan's father. That huge amount of money was available to me and some days I imagined taking it to use for revenge. How I wanted to kill him! For months I was obsessed with the idea, but something finally made me abandon the rage inside me. I remembered the hatred Duncan described in his father. He'd caused me such pain and I knew I was not the only person who'd suffered at his hands. I began to fit into the community of students and was able to enjoy the subjects I studied. I decided to do something valuable with my time and energy and in that way to create a memorial for Duncan. Only I would know about it, and that would have to be enough. Duncan had lived. Duncan had loved me. Through him I had a new life and I could change other people's lives, help make them better. I had a goal at last and I began to research ways in which I could bring it to reality.
Kerry let the book settle back onto her lap. A tear rolled down her cheek. "No wonder she kept putting off the big reveal."
Noreen shook her head, not understanding.
"No biography would've been complete without her telling all of this: Duncan, his father, the bonds. She couldn't face opening it all up again. It was so painful to live through, she couldn't deal with talking about it."
Aura Lee dabbed at the tears in her own eyes, her lips trembling as she struggled for control.
Andrea frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Her pain," Kerry said. "The pages are thick with it. How could she bear to tell us about it?"
"Then why have you come here?" Brenna's arms were folded, her chin resting on one hand. "I'm with Andrea on this. Everything I've been told about Caldicott Wyntham, including the passages from her own journals, indicates her strength. And she said in the first journal that she had to protect all of us. She had to let us in on what had happened to do that."
Kerry jumped to her feet, letting the journal fall to her feet. She rubbed her hands over her face and glared at them. "We've gone through freaking hell to get this far in the journals she hid from us." She walked back and forth, clenching and unclenching her hands. "And look at the places she hid them. It's a miracle we've seen one word of them!" She spun to confront Andrea and then Brenna. "These are not the actions of a woman bent on coming clean with the world."
Rose let out a tired sigh. "Calm down." When Kerry looked at her in frustration, she smiled. "On the face of it, Caldicott is sending mixed signals, but you've said yourself that she wanted to protect us. She still wants that."
Max reached up to catch Kerry's hand as she passed his chair. "I'm afraid she's right, darling. Remember, Caldicott was smuggled away from Duncan's home county hidden in that caravan. It may sound a bit romantic now, but imagine the sheer terror Duncan must have felt to use such means to remove her from danger." He tugged gently and Kerry dropped back into her chair. "Even if Caldicott has been visiting us as a ghost or shade, or whatever form she is able to take, she's still trying to protect us from that evil. We don't yet understand all of her choices."
Neal stirred and reached for his cup. He found it empty and picked up the coffee carafe. "We've already discussed the possibility that supernatural means are being used to this day to find the money Caldicott escaped England with."
"And the talisman," Aura Lee added in a low voice. "I'm certain he wanted to get hold of that as much, if not more, than the money. The way it was described in the first journal made it sound so powerful."
Noreen forked her fingers through her hair, creating her usual hedgehog bristle. "And the old earl was hell-bent on using it to affect the outcome of the war."
"Hell-bent." Max let out a bitter laugh. "Good word choice. If the old bastard is dead now, and by rights he should be, maybe he's directing his followers from hell."
"To think such a thing could be possible shows how far we've come to explain this whole crazy story." Rose looked around the table at each of them, her gray eyes dark with worry. "What we haven't talked much about is what we would do if the old earl, whose name we don't even know yet, is still pursuing Caldicott from the grave."
Noreen set down her pen and shook her hand to loosen her fingers. "Odds are almost overwhelming that he's dead by now, but as we've come to know, death isn't necessarily the obstacle it ought to be." She shrugged her shoulders as if chilled. "I don't want to encounter that man, living or dead. But I'm beginning to feel as if we're destined to, given Caldicott's efforts to escape him."
Rose leaned against the back of her chair and sighed deeply. "Every once in a while it occurs to me that finding the journals and learning what happened in the past might be triggering a rebuilding of the links these people had with each other while they were alive."
"Listen to yourself." Neal looked at her in amazement. "You're saying old animosities could rekindle among the dead?"
Rose shrugged. "I'm saying we might be creating ripple effects. Once the door has opened to the supernatural, new rules come into play. When people die and are really dead, the things they did, the plans they put into effect, die with them. Only memories are left behind. But if the old earl's coven is still active and if, through paranormal means, its members continue to search for the talisman and the money, are we targets? As best I can determine, there's no expiration date on bearer bonds. So," she asked them, "what do we do? If we stop trying to find out what happened, will it end the manifestations we've encountered? Or, if we continue seeking the truth, will the haunting events continue—even increase? And how could we fight such a powerful evil with the weapons we have?"
Max regarded her with respect. "That is the crux of the issue, isn't it?"
"Several cruxes," said Rose, "but no answers. We always come back to the same question. Someone or something is manipulating us to find out what happened in Caldicott's early life, but why? We've discovered she was a part of something horribly evil, but why?"
"So we can end it." At the silence following her statement, Aura Lee looked at them, resignation in her eyes. "Why else? Isn't that the reason behind every ghost story ever told? Evil has to be met head-on, but before you can do that, you have to dig it out and expose it to the world. Cottie is
trying to give us the ammunition we need to do that."
Rose sighed. "You're probably right. I just wonder when we're going to have a clear idea of what to do. I wish she'd told us while she was alive." She turned to Kerry. "Are you tired of reading?"
Kerry shook her head.
"Keep going, please," Brenna said. "I want to know what happens next."
Before she could begin again, the doorbell rang. Neal pushed his chair back from the table. "I'll see who that is. Are we expecting anyone?"
Rose frowned. "Not that I know of."
Andrea stood up. "I'm coming with you. Remember the rule: nobody goes anywhere alone while we're under siege." Neal caught her hand with his and they headed toward the front of the house.
"Did Dink get away all right?" Rose asked Brenna.
She nodded. "He called me after he got there. He's up to his ears in repair work, but all's well otherwise."
"That's a relief. I was half afraid he'd take an assortment of ghosts back with him to California."
"So far he's okay." Brenna turned at the sound of voices from the doorway. Neal carried a suitcase and Andrea had a tote bag under one arm. A slight blond woman followed them slowly, hampered by a serious limp and a cat carrier in one hand.
"Rose, this is Eve Stewart," Andrea announced.
"Eve Stewart?" Rose exchanged a confused look with Aura Lee, who shook her head.
"I'm the new Wisdom Court associate," Eve said. "Remember? The writer who broke her leg?"
Rose's mouth opened in surprise. "Oh, my." She stood up and came around the table to extend her hand to Eve. "Of course. I'm sorry. We've been caught up in... a situation and we've lost track of details." She frowned, trying to remember. "Didn't you say you were coming after you healed? In another four to six weeks?"
Eve Stewart's lips tightened. "Yes, that's what I said. But some very odd things have been happening to me and I decided I'd be safer here than at home."
To her obvious surprise, several of the women gaping at her began to laugh.
Chapter 3
I should've called first, Eve thought in dismay. She wondered for a panicked moment if they would let her stay. She'd felt a sense of homecoming when the cab let her out. The big old farmhouse was across the brick courtyard from two two-story buildings parallel to each other. They had to be the associate houses. The lights in the windows, the last of the summer flowers, and the big old trees swaying in the piney breeze spoke of a home for ideas and accomplishments. Was that impression wrong?
The young Irish-looking woman waved her hands, trying to quiet them. "She thinks we're laughing at her." She came closer and patted Eve's arm. "Trust me, we're not. So many weird things are going on here. All you can do is laugh at the idea of Wisdom Court as a safety zone." She extended her hand and Eve shook it warily. "I'm Kerry Tomlinson, here to write the biography of Caldicott Wyntham, who founded Wisdom Court. This is Max Steadman, a genealogist and expert on the paranormal." The man beside her looked in his mid-thirties, a hint of boyishness in his thin face thanks to a thatch of light brown hair over his forehead. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
The dachshund at Eve's feet chose that moment to recognize the scent of cat. Her head jerked toward Eve, and she walked stiff-legged to the carrier, sniffing in growing outrage. When the cat shifted inside, the dog planted her front paws and began barking like a hound of hell.
"By the Goddess," groaned the woman wearing a magenta sari. "Strudel, stop it! Stop!" She bent down to grab the dog's collar just as the room went dark. "Rose," she said in a scared voice.
Strudel's barks became even more hysterical and Eve took a step back from her.
"Stop it, Strudel!" Rose commanded. "Hush!" But the maddened yapping escalated into a howl.
The kitchen was pitch black, even the windows were without light, as if the world had fallen into a black hole.
"I can't see anything out back," someone muttered. "Do we have a flashlight?"
"Working on it," said Rose. A drawer was pulled open, the sound followed by a shuffle of objects knocking against each other. "Got it." A click produced nothing, another click nothing more. "Dammit." The drawer thudded shut.
"Hold on a minute." Neal's voice was moving across the room. "I'll look for one." Something thudded against something else.
"Oof!" It was Rose. "Slow down."
"Sorry." The sound of a chair sliding against the floor was followed by an oath. "Everybody stay put a second, okay?"
Eve could feel the dark pressing against her like smothering folds of black cloth. She tightened her hold on the cat carrier, struggling to breathe evenly, trying to stem her growing desire to run away. On the thought a flash of pain burned from her left thigh down through her knee and she made a strangled sound. God forbid she should begin screaming.
A hand wrapped around her arm and she almost did scream. "It's me, Andrea," said a voice. "Neal will get us a light. He's on our board and oversees maintenance, so he ought to be able to find one. It won't take long."
"My leg." Eve was afraid she'd collapse in a heap. "I need to sit."
"Let me get a chair."
The pressure of Andrea's hand left her arm and Eve stood amidst the maelstrom of yelping, thumps, and thuds, counting under her breath, until she felt a touch on her shoulder.
"Eve?"
"Yes." She felt the edge of a chair against her legs and eased down gratefully. "Thank you."
"No problem. You still have the carrier?"
Eve felt the plastic handle across her palm. "Right here."
"Okay. Sit tight. Noreen," Andrea called, "can you reach Strudel?"
"I'll do my best," came a voice. "Not that I can see to take her out of here."
"Okay, let's—"
A man stood in shadow at the back doorway, flashlight in hand. The powerful beam illuminated the kitchen, stirring more shadows along the edges of the room.
"Neal. Thank goodness." Rose was leaning against the counter. "How on earth did you find it?"
Eve watched Neal edge around the sari-wearing woman, whom he addressed as Aura Lee, on her way out of the room with a very unhappy Strudel. "I went out to my pickup. I knew I had one there."
"But, the dark..." Andrea began.
"It's still afternoon out there. I could see just fine. It's dark only in here."
"How screwed up is that?" Kerry muttered.
Beside her Max was still, his gaze on the wall behind the kitchen table. She turned to see what he was looking at.
"Neal," Max said, "would you shine the torch on the wall over there?" He pointed.
Neal complied and Andrea inhaled sharply at the words scrawled in black across the cream-colored paint.
YOU WILL ALL DIE
Someone gasped. Neal snapped, "What the hell?" He turned to the small older woman near him. "Did you see anything to explain this, Noreen?"
"It was dark as pitch. What it says is undeniably true," Noreen said crisply, casting the scrawl a contemptuous glance. "What a pointless remark."
Eve couldn't choke back the laugh rising in her throat like bile. To her horror, it was followed by several more sounds she'd not heard from anyone, let alone herself.
Andrea snatched a glass from the cupboard and groped in another for a bottle. "Why we're not all raging alcoholics by now, I don't know," she mumbled as she splashed brandy into the glass. She gave it to Eve. "Here. I'm sure we'll all join you when we get the chance."
Eve took the glass, but it shook in her hand and Andrea had to guide it to her mouth. "All of it," she said. "It'll help."
She threw back the drink and coughed. When she could speak, she croaked, "Who wrote on the wall?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Andrea said with bitterness.
The lights flashed on. Through the windows they could see the yard.
"It's about time," grumbled Aura Lee as she came back into the kitchen. "Why do spirits have to be so rude?" Her gaze went to the words scrawled on the wall and she squeaked
in outrage. "I've had about enough of this!" She looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "Gods of peace and light, protect us from the vermin!"
Max masked a laugh with a cough and shot a look at Kerry. "We'll check if any other graffiti was added while we were in the dark."
Kerry nodded and tugged him toward the door. "We'll be back. Stick together, okay?"
"Spirits?" Eve said in a faint voice.
The young woman with the black hair in a pixie cut stopped beside her chair. "Do you feel faint? Or is it just your pale skin?" She registered Eve's uncomprehending expression. "Sorry. I see life in terms of movie types, being a moviemaker. You look like the last act of Camille at the moment: pale, wan, and with your lovely blond hair. Oh, I'm Brenna Payne. Welcome."
"Um," began Eve, but before she could say anything else, Rose addressed them from the far side of the table.
"I'm going to the living room, so if we're supposed to stick together, you'll have to come with me." She picked up the brandy bottle and headed out the door.
Neal grabbed Andrea by the hand and they followed Rose. "Oops, the cornbread." He started to turn back.
Brenna waved him on. "Got it."
"Don't eat it all, Brenna. You either, Noreen," he added with a wink and Brenna bared her teeth at him as she picked up the platter and trailed behind him and Andrea.
"Neal acts as if we're twelve years old." Noreen had come to stand in front of Eve, offering her hand. Eve took it and stood up, feeling odd at being taller for once. She forgot the issue of size when she recognized the fierce intelligence in the woman's eyes.
"I'd be happy to transport the carrier. Or brace you so you can walk, if you like. Forgive me," she added, "I'm Noreen Prescott, author of a quotations book, women's quotations."
Eve eyed her with gratitude. "Thanks. It's a pleasure. I'll be fine if you'll take the carrier. Danica isn't very heavy."
All in Bad Time Page 3
