Arnie drained his glass and set it on the table. "This I do not know. But I hunt for small details, any connection, hoping I will learn of them." His smile was sad. "Vadoma is gone, yes, but her questions are here. So I look."
I wracked my brain for anything Duncan had told me. All I could remember was the haunted expression he wore that last night we had together, when he told me of the Gypsy girl who had been killed in a ritual sacrifice, a cousin to Andras. I related this to Arnie. "His father was deeply involved in the occult. I assumed the girl's death had to do with one of their evil ceremonies. One of the reasons I've been so afraid of attracting the earl's notice is dread of being caught and punished by him and his followers. Duncan said his father planned to use the talisman to affect the course of the war."
The suffering in his face stopped me. What if the dead girl was one of his family members? "Arnie," I said in an uneven voice, "you don't think—"
"That this girl was one of mine?" He shook his head. "I do not know. The Romani are never treated well, but to be killed by this crazy nobleman... no, I think not so." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "But I think you came into my shop for a reason. I think we work together on this problem of the money and your hiding place. I work many times to help people to disappear. You are another of these, I think."
I folded my lips together to stop their trembling. I had come this far, and now it appeared I would have to travel again, to find another place to go to ground in order to avoid the evil man who would have been my father-in-law. "What do you suggest?"
"First, you and I go over your books and then we look for new home for these bonds of yours. Is doubtful your English earl could find them as you set up two trusts, but I do not like that large sums move to New York on dates so near when you escape from England. This we must change."
Max laid his hand over the page to stop Kerry's reading. "Let's stop now, luv."
Kerry blinked, realizing how dry her eyes were.
"I can barely keep my eyes open." Max shifted against her and slipped lower on the pillow. "We can finish tomorrow, don't you think?"
Kerry yawned. "My eyes are tired. I could use some sleep."
He leaned toward her, his mouth capturing hers. He kissed her thoroughly and turned her toward the back of the sofa so he could wrap himself around her.
"Goodnight," she whispered, but he was already breathing in the deep pattern of sleep.
Kerry snuggled against him and drifted off.
The room settled into stillness, only the small sounds of the fireplace and the breathing of the three people in the room breaking the peaceful atmosphere.
The slow movement of the journal across the surface of the coffee table made no sound until the volume fell onto the rug. The little cat Danica awakened and watched as it continued, a legless creature, in a straight path down the corridor created by the placement of the items of furniture. It eased between the hearth and the sofa, eventually sliding soundlessly through the open door to the kitchen. Danica lowered her head to her paws and slept.
Time Out of Time
Seventh son of seventh son,
Blood of ages, held in one.
Force of evil, force of power,
Before thee must the weakened cower.
"Words from the grave, words from the grave." Severn murmured as he thumbed through the worn pages of the book in front of him. His life had been lived by this book. His first memories were triggered by its scent, a papery, dusty smell brushing his nose. It had opened his mind every time. And then came the pain.
Revulsion surged inside him. From his earliest days he had followed the strictures set down by his grandfather. No—his father. The man who had posed as his father had really been his brother, the sixth. He, Severn, was the seventh son.
Severn's hand tightened on the page, almost tearing it, and he smoothed it carefully. His lineage was impeccable, his birthright unassailable. His pretend father had hidden the hate provoked by the evil old man's dark passions, vented on him. The only thing they'd both received equally was the message: find the money, find the woman, and find the talisman. He was told only these achievements could make up for his illegitimate birth. He hadn't know the truth until the old man's death.
How different his life might have been if his wastrel brother had followed the old man's orders and gone in search of the three vital things. Instead he had reveled in sabotaging their inherited task. He'd ignored the work, had sought the lowest pleasures of the flesh: spreading his seed and drinking himself into oblivion. He was successful at both.
How many nephews and nieces did he have in the county? None of them had surfaced from the mire asking to join the family business.
The short, harsh laugh spat from his throat. No matter. Laughter was strangled at an early age.
Severn straightened his spine and bent again over the book. Days had passed since the defeat of his creation. "Such an elegant spell." His whisper rustled in the silent room. The fire was near dead, the coals able only to cast weak shadows.
He tried to focus on the arcane symbols marching across the vellum page, but his head pounded and his vision blurred.
Severn pushed himself up, inwardly cursing. What kind of weakling was he, to care deeply for a spell above all so short-lived? The intricacy he prided most likely was the flaw leading to the nest's demise.
Cold fear forced new questions. What if he were unable to complete the task? What if her powers blocked him from identifying the true location? What if he hadn't the strength to destroy the protections?
If only he had someone to help him.
The memory of his father's—no, his brother's—features filled his mind, the open, handsome face, symmetrical and surrounded by a thatch of curling hair. No one had ever appeared to notice the emptiness in his heavily fringed eyes. He'd been blessed with the fondest desire of every female: perfection of form, taken as a promise of virtue and truth. He, the seventh son, was dark of hair and eyes, features narrow and sharp. Women edged away from him, damn them.
"I wonder how many of the women he killed." The words pulsed in the air. I wonder how many I've killed. He'd kept no count but... many.
The woods had been allowed to swallow any paths, obliterate several cottages, to spread over the evidence of rites and rituals. If any of the bodies were ever found...
Irritated with his own disordered thoughts, Severn slumped back into the chair. Perhaps he needed a bit of his brother's favorite remedy. A woman and a bottle, judiciously mixed. They would provide a few hours of escape. He reached for the telephone on the desk. He tapped the button on the receiver and waited for a voice. When it came, he was puzzled as to its identity. Is it Fitch? He cursed at forgetting. Fitch is no longer a part of the plan.
"Who is this?" he demanded brusquely.
"It's Pierce, sir."
Severn thought quickly, mind sorting names and physical characteristics. Ah, the man with the auburn hair. "Pierce, I have need of the Mercedes. Bring it round."
"Certainly, sir."
Severn scowled at the dead receiver and replaced it onto the base. Very little deference came from that one.
Chapter 18
Clouds had consumed the sun and shadows were spreading through Wisdom Court. Neal walked down the corridor to Rose's workroom and hesitated outside it. Aura Lee had told him she was resting and shouldn't be disturbed, but he had no choice. The courtyard was a danger and they had to decide what to do about it before someone fell into one of the holes.
Neal knocked gently at the door. "Rose? It's Neal."
"Come in," came the muffled reply as the lock clicked. The door swung open.
Rose peered out at him and he was shocked at her appearance. Dark circles ringed her gray eyes and her mouth was tight with tension.
"This won't take long," he said quickly. "I need a decision from you about the tunnels and then we can get other okays from the board. I'll be out of your hair in five minutes."
Rose pulled the door further open
and waved him in. "Don't be silly. I may look like hell but I'm still running things around here." She gestured toward the chair across from her desk and plopped down into her own seat. "What's the estimate?"
"Sam started at fifteen thousand, but I think he's optimistic on that." Neal glanced at the clipboard he'd brought. "Most of the tunnel system is okay, though we need to inspect all of it thoroughly. The portions under and east of Eve's apartments are the most damaged, and the basic question has to do with how—or if—we go about fixing it. The good news is, the foundations appear to be in good shape."
Rose rolled a pencil between her palms, her eyes on a framed photograph in front of her. Neal couldn't see what it represented. "You said if we fix it." She glanced up at him and he was struck at how... lost she looked. "Are you suggesting we fill it in and call it good?"
Neal rubbed his chin and the bristles made a scratching sound against his fingers. "I've tossed the idea around, but to tell you the truth, I think Cottie would haunt us if we did it. Though she probably already is." He leaned the clipboard against his chair legs and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "She has to be the one behind the building of those tunnels, and I imagine she had a good reason for it. I don't want to be the one to destroy what might be part of a defense system against our ghost problems."
Rose nodded, but didn't say anything. Neal straightened in the chair and waited.
After a few minutes, Rose stirred and sighed. "I'll propose to the board that we treat this as a restoration project. Remember, we've already formed a committee to get the main house on the historic registry. I think most will agree." Her eyes were weary. "After, that is, they've had a good time trying to figure out what Caldicott was thinking when she had them built."
"It'll spice up the next meeting." He met her gaze, his smile fading. "Have you told any of them what's been going on?"
Rose shrugged. "I had to fill in Jerri when she was here. After she checked out Eve and Brenna, she insisted on details. Couldn't blame her for that."
"No." Neal pushed himself out of the chair and stood looking down at her. "Sooner or later they'll have to know. The way things are going it'll be damned soon." When she nodded, a rueful expression on her face, he headed for the door.
"Is Andrea staying with you again tonight?"
"Yeah." He caught the worry in her eyes. "Is that a problem?"
"Not really. It's just that I'd like us to go over the rest of that journal Brenna found. There hasn't been time and I've been wondering if there's anything in it that would help."
Neal rubbed the back of his neck and bit back a yawn. "We could stay for dinner and either read during it or wait until after. Gotta admit, I could use some sleep."
Rose stood up and pointed at his clipboard, still on the floor next to his chair. "Don't forget that." She waited as he bent to retrieve it and followed him to the door. "Are you talking to Sam again tomorrow?"
"Yeah. I told him I'd call him late morning. I'll have him do two estimates, one for a fill-in, one for rebuilding the tunnels. That way we can take both to the board meeting."
"Sounds good." Rose closed the door behind them and locked it. When she saw Neal watching her, she shrugged. "I haven't seen any more circles lately, but I want to be sure no one else has had access in case there are some. Plausible deniability."
Neal had the familiar feeling they were sinking into a swamp of paranoia. "I hear you."
The distant chime of the front doorbell sounded as they walked into the kitchen. Neal glanced at Rose. "Is Aura Lee still here?"
"She was going on a grocery run last I heard." Rose picked up her pace and trotted toward the dining room. "I'll get it."
The bell rang again and Rose called, "Coming." When she arrived at the door, she turned the latch and swung it open. There on the step were Elizabeth Schuster and Dolores Rivera. The two had ended their Wisdom Court year almost two months before.
"My God, what are you doing here?" Rose said over Elizabeth's shoulder as they hugged each other. "And you?" Dolores was clutching her like a limpet. Rose pulled back and took a closer look at both of them. They, in turn, exchanged a grimace at the sight of her.
From behind her Neal greeted the two. "Man, it sure is good to see you." He caught hold of Elizabeth's hand and pulled her to him for a kiss on the cheek. Putting his other arm around Dolores's shoulders he asked, "When did you get here?"
Elizabeth pulled her suitcase inside and shoved it under the coat hooks by the door. The brown slacks and gold sweater she wore set off her cocoa-brown skin and her gold hoop earrings gleamed against the small braids tumbling over her scarf. "We met each other in the baggage section at DIA."
"Honest to God." Dolores trailed in after Elizabeth and set her bags near the others, fumbling with the buttons of her black raincoat. Her loose coil of her ebony hair fell from one shoulder and she swung it back when she stood up. "Weird, huh?"
Rose shook her head in disbelief. "You could say that, though I don't know if weird is the word anymore."
"Tell me about it." Elizabeth took off her stylish cape-jacket and helped Dolores with her coat. "Considerin' the dreams I've had every night for the last month, weird is the new normal. And this one," she motioned toward Dolores. "She's been making some things out of clay that I don't even want to think about." She put her hands on her hips and gave Neal and Rose the once-over. "What's been goin' on here, people?"
As if a signal had gone through the place, several of the others wandered in, gravitating to the living room where greetings were exchanged and introductions made. Snacks were thrown together and arranged on the coffee table. They clustered around the fireplace, catching up with Dolores and Elizabeth, both a little awkward at having returned so soon.
"Where's Kerry?" Dolores asked suddenly.
Rose glanced around the circle. "She and Max have been working on something most of the day. They said they'd be here for dinner."
Dolores nodded, satisfied. "Good. That way I don't have to ask who Max is." She turned to Rose. "I meant to call you, but I kept putting it off until I couldn't stand it anymore."
Andrea narrowed her eyes, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Dolores flipped her long black hair over one shoulder. "It was the weirdest thing. I began a series of sculptures—the idea was to make a tree of life—only instead of animals and plants, I was going to put hands doing all kinds of things on the branches. Holding a book, gardening shears, a pen with a piece of paper."
"Cool." Brenna leaned forward a little in interest. "Different looking hands?"
Dolores sipped her wine and set down her glass. "Yes. Old, young, baby hands in a couple of places. Problem was, I kept making things I wasn't even thinking of." She reached for her glass again. "One morning I formed a hand that was holding an axe. Next was a hand holding a severed head." Her large brown eyes widened and she put one hand to her throat. "Madre de Dios, I was shaking so hard after that, I didn't even try to make anything else until the next day."
"You poor thing!" Aura Lee said in horror. "You must have been scared to death."
"To build a wall and have one's mind lay it waste in the next breath is a hallmark of madness. Jane Purcell Toombs, seventeen ninety-eight to eighteen forty-two." Noreen regarded Dolores gravely. "How's your mental health, my dear?"
Elizabeth's rich laugh rolled over budding tension. "I have missed your quotations," she said with feeling. "Life doesn't feel right without you punctuating every conversation." She winked at Dolores. "Don't forget, I'm here, too, also without an invitation. Go ahead, ask me what got me on a plane to Denver."
"I'll bite." Andrea popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and waited with interest.
"I was cooking my granny's jambalaya recipe a week ago and when I started to turn the heat down, I glanced into the pot." Her fingers tightened on the carrot stick she held.
"And?" Rose asked softly.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out. "And I saw the carcass of a rabbit cooking
in its own blood."
At the appalled silence, her lips twisted. "Aren't you gonna ask about my mental health?" She nodded toward Noreen.
The small woman ruffled her hair, brows drawn together. "No," she said finally, "I'm going to ask if you really saw that rabbit or if it was an illusion."
"It was real enough to make me sick," Elizabeth said grimly. "I threw it out. It didn't disappear when it hit the garbage can."
Noreen shot an apologetic glance toward Dolores. "And I'm asking you. Did you find the items you described to us were actually those shapes, or had you merely seen them that way?"
Dolores shook her head. "I wish it was like that, but, no. I made those hands and more, a knife slicing a human foot. A necklace of fingers." She turned toward Brenna's gasp. "I don't even know how I could have made that. The technique, I mean. I sculpted things I didn't know I could make." She shook her head. "I have a whole new understanding of what you went through when you were drawing and painting without knowing it, jita." She reached her hand toward Andrea, who clasped it tightly.
"It got to the point that I didn't want to go near the clay or any other medium. On some level I knew it had to do with Wisdom Court. So today I flew home."
Aura Lee was so touched at the sentiment she got to her feet and came around the table. "You dear, sweet girl." They hugged and when Dolores pulled back, tears were on her cheeks.
Rose wiped her eyes with her napkin. "I wish I didn't have such mixed feelings about seeing the two of you. It really is like having you come home," she said, putting one hand on her heart, "but the danger here keeps mounting and you both mean so much to us." She dabbed at her eyes again. "Sorry, it's been rough for a while. I hate to see you walk back into it."
Elizabeth wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Don't get me goin', I'll cry all night." She sniffed mightily. "The danger doesn't matter. If what's been goin' on doesn't prove anything else, it shows we can be touched by this crazy ghost thing no matter where we are. I had to come back because I know I'm supposed to be here to see it out."
All in Bad Time Page 17
