A shadow crossed the room and David stepped in front of her and put out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
Her heart jumped to her mouth, then plunged to the pit of her stomach. Reeling from the emotion, she shook her head, forcing the images to recede. She had no idea where they’d come from or why they seemed so real. She did know that they were not the kind of thoughts she should be having about a man she barely knew.
“He’s a vampire, or at the very least a warlock.”
She tugged Claire to a stop. “What are you talking about? Who’s a warlock?”
“I’m talking about David Bryson, of course. You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. You were.”
“Okay. I was thinking of him, but how did you know that?”
“I saw you staring at the Bluffs.”
Becca breathed a sigh of relief, glad she hadn’t admitted how Claire’s seemingly clairvoyant statement had shaken her. She started walking again.
“Oh, Becca, I hate even thinking of your being up there in that horrible house. And no matter what you say about David Bryson, he’s creepy and dangerous. I’ve heard he’s cloning some kind of two-headed creature in that secret lab of his.”
“Whatever he’s doing in the lab, I won’t have to worry about it. His butler made it clear that I’m to work only on the rooms he showed me today. They’re all in the east wing, far away from the lab.”
“Nothing you can say will make me feel good about your working for David Bryson.”
“Your friend Tasha was in love with him. He can’t be all bad.”
“Tasha was bewitched by him, and the same thing is happening to you. I knew it the second I saw you staring at his house. You had the same look on your face that I saw on hers when she first met him.”
“I’m not bewitched.” Only she had experienced some strange surge of emotion when the images of her and David had taken shape in her mind. And she had this crazy desire to see him again when everyone she knew advised against it. “It’s just a job,” she reiterated, as much for her own benefit as for Claire’s. “I probably won’t even run into Dr. Bryson again. According to his butler, the man spends most of the daylight hours in his lab.”
“In his dark, lab, I bet. How creepy can you get?”
Becca shook her head. She couldn’t explain why she was going back to the Bluffs, not rationally. The money, the job. They were the excuses, but not the reasons.
A black cat ran out from the bushes and darted in front of them. Claire grabbed her arm and tugged her to a stop. “The cat is an omen, Becca. He’s trying to tell us something.”
Becca shook her head, suddenly weary with dealing with Claire’s superstitions and fears. “It’s only a cat.”
“A black cat.”
“A very pretty black cat.” She started walking again.
Claire followed reluctantly. “We shouldn’t take the path the cat just crossed.”
“We should if we want to get home.”
Claire seemed to settle down, or at least she kept walking and stopped talking about the horrors of September and bad omens. They were passing by the secluded area now, empty lots on both sides of the street with big trees and spreading branches that creaked in the wind.
But tonight there was a different sound, a crunching, like footfalls crushing dry leaves. Becca stopped and turned. There was no movement except the shadowy blur of moonlight filtering through the branches that quivered in the wind.
“Is something wrong?” Claire asked
“I thought I heard footsteps behind us.”
Claire tensed instantly and gripped Becca’s hand. “It’s him.”
“It’s no one, Claire.” She said the words with as much authority as she could muster, considering the fact that she didn’t believe them herself. “Just keep walking. We’ll be home in a few minutes.”
But Claire didn’t keep walking. She stood, shaking, her eyes wide and wild. “You can’t run from him. You scream and you scream, but he never stops. He just never stops.”
Poor Claire. She was drifting back into the nightmare, moving and talking as if in a trance, and Becca could almost feel the horror as it wrapped Claire inside its tormenting shell. But if someone was back there, they needed to keep moving. “Everything’s okay, Claire. Just keep walking.”
Claire seemed to sink into herself, become a little girl, a very frightened little girl.
“One more block,” Becca coaxed, trying to pull her along. “That’s all. We’ll be able to see your house as soon as we turn the corner. I bet your mother left the porch light on for you.”
But someone was definitely behind them now, to the left, hidden in the trees and darkness. She couldn’t run off and leave Claire. The little she knew about self-defense raced through her mind, and she reached down and picked up a broken branch that was little more than a twig.
“Leave us alone,” she ordered, waving her branch like a sword. There was movement, but still she couldn’t make out the form of a man. “You’re frightening my friend.”
“It’s you who should be afraid this time.”
“It’s him,” Claire whispered. “It’s him.” A second later she collapsed into a terrified ball at Becca’s feet, leaving Becca to face the man alone.
Chapter Five
Becca held tight to the brittle limb, waving it over her head. She’d go for the eyes first and try to get a knee to the crotch. But even if she landed a perfect blow, it wouldn’t help for long. She couldn’t take off and leave Claire to the man’s mercy.
“I’ll throw my purse down. You can take what money I have, and I won’t even report the theft,” she said, hoping against hope that her offer might appease him.
“I don’t want your money.” The man stepped toward them, though still not into the open. She could see the outline of his frame, lean, not particularly tall—threatening. She struggled to catch her breath and to get a glimpse of his face, but his features blended into the shadowy backdrop as if he were faceless.
Leary rises from the dead every five years and comes for his victims. The terrifying legend seared itself into her brain as terror swelled inside her. She stood, deathly still, unable to move. But even in the midst of the terror, she knew this wasn’t a ghost, and he wouldn’t vanish in a puff of smoke.
“What do you want from us?” she asked.
“Satisfaction.”
Becca tried to tug Claire to a standing position, but Claire continued to sit in the middle of the sidewalk, rocking back and forth, her knees cradled in her arms.
“You should be worried about yourself instead of that sniveling—”
The spray of headlight beams and the sound of a car engine interrupted his words. She turned to see a sleek sports car slowing to a crawl. Adrenaline rushed through Becca, finally breaking the stifling hold of fear. She left Claire and dashed into the street, waving her hands and screaming for help. She could hear the footsteps of their would-be attacker, running in the opposite direction as the car came to a screeching halt. The door of the low-slung sports car swung open, and Geoffrey Pierce jumped out.
“Becca, is that you?”
“Yes. And Claire Cavendish.” Her voice skidded along the edges of her choppy breath. “Someone tried to attack us.”
He scanned the area without stepping away from his car. “Where is he?”
“In that vacant lot.” She pointed to the area she’d last seen the man. “But he’s gone. He ran off when we saw the lights of your car.”
“Damn. I knew something like this would happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, traveling up to the Bluffs.”
“How do you know about that?”
“There are no secrets in Moriah’s Landing. Remember that, along with the fact that you can’t mess around with the likes of David Bryson and just walk away unscathed. The man’s evil through and through.”
“It wasn’t David Bry
son.”
“Then who was it?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t David.”
“Did you get a good look at the man? Could you identify him if you saw him again?”
“No. All I really saw was shadows.” Becca looked back at Claire. She still sat huddled on the cold concrete, hugging her knees, her head buried in the folds of her arms. Becca walked over and wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Claire. Geoffrey Pierce is here to help us now. No one will hurt you.”
Claire looked up at Geoffrey, her eyes wide. A low scream gurgled from her lips, then faded in a series of hard shudders.
“We need to get her home,” Geoffrey said. “Let me help you.”
Taking control, Geoffrey walked over and placed his hand out to Claire. She jerked away from him, whimpering like a frightened puppy. Somehow, Becca managed to get her to her feet. “Geoffrey Pierce is going to give us a ride home,” she whispered. “The bad man is gone.”
“No. Not again,” Claire pleaded, her voice low and so shaky Becca could barely make out the words. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”
Becca held her tight. “It’s okay, sweetie. I won’t leave you. Just lean on me, and I’ll help you into the car.”
Claire moved as if in a trance, trembling so that it was all Becca could do to get her to take the few steps to the car. Geoffrey tried to help, but Claire jerked away every time he tried to touch her. Becca crawled into the small back seat beside Claire and cradled her in her arms, stroking the back of her head with a steady hand.
“Whoever abducted her before sure did a number on her,” Geoffrey said, once they were buckled into their seats. “Someone should hang that man by his toes and let the buzzards feast on him.” He started the car and drove slowly down the street. “If you didn’t get a good look at your attacker, Becca, how can you be so certain it wasn’t David Bryson?”
“I would have known David’s voice.” That was factual, but it only scratched the surface of the full truth. If David had been standing there, she would have felt his aura, that strange awareness that churned inside her when he was near or even when she thought of him.
He turned onto Front Street. Sure enough, the porch light was on. Mrs. Cavendish always left the light on until the last of her children were safely in for the night. She did the same for Becca since she’d moved in with them.
“That’s Claire’s house, the one with the porch light on,” Becca said.
“I know. I used to drive Tasha over here to see Claire back before Tasha was old enough to drive. The two of them were good friends since grade school. I remember how upset Tasha was when Claire was abducted. A few weeks later, Tasha was dead. All because she got mixed up with David Bryson.”
The bitterness crept into his voice. Becca was sure he missed Tasha. The whole Pierce family had evidently loved her very much. The whole town had, but she doubted if any of them loved her any more than David had.
Geoffrey pulled to a stop in front of the house, killed the motor and turned to Becca. “I’m begging you to stay away from the Bluffs and from David Bryson, Becca.”
“I’m sure David means me no harm.”
“Then you are far too trusting. You’re a beautiful woman, soft and kind. Trusting, the way Tasha was. That’s just the kind of woman he likes, someone he can sweep off her feet with his money and pseudo sophistication. But bear in mind that he is a fake, a dangerous, deadly fake.”
His words seemed to catch and stick in the night air, lingering after his voice had become silent. Becca knew he expected a promise that she’d heed his warning, but she couldn’t do that—not yet—so she said nothing. He turned, opened the driver-side door and crawled from behind the wheel as Becca pushed the door open on Claire’s side. Geoffrey put a hand out to help Claire. She trembled and pulled away from him.
“It’s probably better if I can get her up the steps by myself,” Becca said. “She’ll feel safer with me.”
“I can understand that.”
He stepped out of the way as Becca struggled to get Claire out of the cramped back seat and onto the sidewalk. She had stopped whimpering, but she still clung to Becca and didn’t seem able to bear the full weight of her body.
Becca turned back to Geoffrey as they reached the door. He was waiting at the foot of the steps, watching, ready to help if she needed him. “Thanks, again. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”
“Stay away from Bryson.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Which means you won’t. You’re already under his spell. May God keep you safe. He’s the only one who can.” He turned and got back into his car.
“May God keep us all safe,” she whispered as she knocked on the door. She had a key, but couldn’t get to it and hold Claire erect, too.
A few seconds later, Mrs. Cavendish opened the door. One look at Claire and the woman’s eyes welled with tears. She took Claire in her arms and rocked her against her ample chest.
“My baby. My poor baby. What’s happened now?”
Becca took a deep breath. There was no easy way to explain what had happened to Claire, certainly no way to make Mrs. Cavendish feel a bit better.
Claire had called it right about September. Fall in Moriah’s Landing was like a cruise through a carnival chamber of horrors. And there was no getting off the ride.
IT WAS TWO HOURS LATER before Becca was able to go to her room and have a minute to herself. Now, showered and dressed for bed, she stared out the window and let her mind meander through the events of the evening.
Once they’d been free of the actual danger, the hardest part had been watching Claire draw back into her shell, become almost comatose as her mother tried desperately to reassure her that everything was okay. And as difficult as it was to watch Claire, it was equally hard to watch the pain and heartbreak settle into every line of Mrs. Cavendish’s face.
Becca had left Claire to her mother’s care while she called the police to report the incident. The first policeman had arrived in minutes. He was young, polite and amazingly efficient. His questions had been direct and to the point and he’d taken Becca’s every response at face value.
Ten minutes after he’d finished with his questions and left the house, Detective Carson Megham had shown up. The man was at least sixty, had droopy eyes, a fat neck, chewed incessantly on an unlit cigar, and all his questions seemed to come from left field. He’d stayed thirty minutes, drunk the coffee Mrs. Cavendish offered and filled one page of his notebook with lines and squiggles and very few notes.
When he left, Becca was certain that in all her life, she’d never been so glad to see the door close behind any man. She took a deep breath and tried to find something more pleasant to fill her mind before she climbed into bed.
Claire was sleeping now. The rest of the household seemed to be, as well. And if Becca didn’t get some sound sleep soon herself, she’d be a wasted wreck tomorrow when she needed to be fully alert and laying out a plan for redecorating the Bluffs.
She stretched and walked over to the bed. Either she was wrong about David, or Geoffrey Pierce and everyone else in town were mistaken. Maybe she was bewitched.
Thoughts of David pushed away the fright of the night like nothing else had. She climbed into bed, snuggled under the covers and pictured him scattering white roses on top of the cliff. Images coalesced and floated through her mind. She imagined the way David had looked five years ago when Tasha had fallen completely under his spell. He’d been so handsome, her young heart had probably melted at his first touch, the thrill of his first kiss.
Emotions toppled over one another, dizzying, titillating. Tasha had probably never had a chance to do anything but fall in love with David. If Becca wasn’t very careful, she might fall in love with him, too. She was already infatuated with the man.
A man who lived in the shadows, shrouded in mystery. Captivating. Mesmerizing. Dark.
THE MUSIC WAS HAUNTING, a love song tha
t dipped inside Becca and stirred her soul. The room was lit only by the glow of candles on the marble hearth and a fire that licked the logs and danced recklessly inside the massive fireplace.
David held out his hand and Becca slipped into his arms. She felt the pressure of his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. Her heart beat against his chest. Her belly rubbed against his, and their thighs did their own dance, a touch and retreat that awakened every erogenous zone in her body.
He tucked a thumb under her chin and tilted her face toward his. Desire blazed in his eyes, then swelled inside her until she felt the moisture pool and begin to flow inside her. He put his mouth to hers, and when he spoke she felt the quick flick of his tongue on the flesh of her earlobe. “I wish this night could last forever,” he whispered. “Just the two of us suspended in time.”
“It can last. We’ll make it last.”
“Promise that. Promise me you’ll always love me the way you love me tonight.”
“Make love with me, David.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“Please. I can’t bear it if you don’t.”
His lips touched hers, and the thrill of the kiss swept through her in a silken rush. She wanted him so, imagined him ripping her clothes from her body and taking her right there in front of the fire that blazed in the massive fireplace. Instead he pulled away. “You’ll have to go now, Becca.”
“No. Please. I need you, David.”
“If you stay, I’ll hurt you.”
“No. You’ll never hurt me. You couldn’t.”
“But I will.”
“Becca.”
His voice had changed and his face had erupted into a glaring mass of red, mottled skin and jagged scars. He was hideously frightening, totally macabre. She started to run, but she couldn’t get away. His footsteps were pounding behind her.
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