The Ghosts of Ravencrest (The Ravencrest Saga Book 1)

by Tamara Thorne

  Heller smiled. “Are you certain, dear?”

  “Good night, Mrs. Heller.”

  Heller looked her up and down. “You’re a very pretty girl, Belinda.” She smiled, all teeth, all shark.

  “Thank you. Good night.” This time, Belinda was able to shut the door. She turned the lock then dragged a chair over and stuck it under the knob. In the morning, she’d ask Grant for an interior lock to keep Heller out - right after she asked him a dozen other questions. She crossed to the windows and drew the drapes. It was nearly dawn, perhaps 4:30 in the morning, and she could just make out the shapes of trees and the statues that gleamed like specters in the light swirls of mist.

  And she caught movement again, in a garden no more than a hundred feet from the house. She squinted, trying to identify it, expecting a deer - but it rose on two legs, a man darker than the fleeing night. It looked like his hand was on a staff of some sort - a shovel? - but the mist swallowed him and a second later, when the fog cleared, there was nothing there. You need to reel your imagination in before you lose your mind.

  She started to return to bed, but knew she wouldn’t sleep any longer, so she went to the desk in front of the windows and opened her laptop. It was time to do some research. Before seating herself, she crossed to the painting of Alice Manning in her lavender gown and whispered, “I’ll help you if I can.”

  Lavande d’Amour

  Naked, chained, bent over in the pillory, her ass filled with the biggest meanest dildo in the dungeon. That will teach the little bitch! Who does she think she is, looking me in the eye and lying to me? Cordelia Heller stalked through the hall and down the stairs to the first floor. Her heels clacked across the marble, echoing through the main hall. Passing her black and white drawing room, she turned off into her private corridor, ignoring her office in favor of her bedchamber.

  That dead bitch Alice Manning had been in Belinda’s room. She knew it; she could feel her presence there - hell, she could smell the interfering trollop’s scent, Lavande d’Amour, in the room. And Belinda Moorland, she was sure, was aware of her, too. And not afraid. The girl should have been hiding under her quilt, relieved to have Cordelia burst in, but she wasn’t. She was downright uppity.

  But what does Alice Manning want with Belinda?

  She obviously wasn’t preventing a ghostly tryst, which was something the jealous dead bitch loved to do. What else could it be? And then it hit her: Belinda must have seen Alice’s irritating daughter in the east wing. Fucking little whore just like her mother. Dead or alive, Alice Manning would do just about anything to get the girl back in her clutches.

  “That’s not going to happen, Alice. That’s not going to happen.”

  She had set and reset the wards to keep spirits from crossing between the east and west wings. Nothing short of a miracle would break the bindings.

  The Scream

  Belinda spent nearly an hour fruitlessly Googling “Carmilla Harlow” before deciding to go for a swim in the indoor pool. Eric Manning, Grant, and Riley had all recommended it.

  After pulling on a baby blue bikini, she tied a matching sarong over it, slipped on her sandals, and descended the stairs. Hoping for coffee, she passed through the kitchen, but it was only 5:30; no one was up yet. She let herself out the back door and walked across the grass, passing the persimmon tree, catching the aroma of coffee as she passed by Grant and Riley’s carriage house. Finally, Belinda came to the beautiful but chilly-looking outdoor pool. She passed it, heading for the tall stone building nearby.

  It looked so imposing when she got to the ornamented double doors that she nearly turned back, but she made herself stop and peer through the glass. It was shadowy at the edges but golden lamps built into the walls cast some light. Later the sun would stream golden rays into the indoor pool from skylights in the ceiling, but not yet. The water was empty, available, and she wanted to swim. “Here goes,” she murmured as she pushed on the door. It wasn’t locked.

  Inside was another world. Surprisingly warm and humid, the huge room echoed with the sound of water. It slurped and guzzled and burbled, fragrant with the fresh scent of chlorine.

  The tall walls were tiled in cobalt and ornamented with flurries of silver and gold stars. At one end, near the high ceiling, a huge silver moon looked down over the pool. Overhead, between the skylights, the ceilings were painted in the same rich blue and frescoed with constellations of silvery-gold stars.

  White Grecian statues ranged around the pool, half a dozen of them; the biggest, Poseidon on his throne, beneath the silvery moon.

  But the pool itself was the most beautiful - and frightening - aspect. Like the walls, it was tiled in cobalt. Pool lights showed off the constellations of stars on the bottom. Parts of it narrowed and disappeared in different directions which, she knew from Grant, became narrow tubes that led beneath water spouts and back into the main pool - which was so vast that Belinda knew she needed to shake off her nervousness before getting in. For the first time, she wished she wasn’t alone; but she forced herself to walk around the pool to the dressing rooms hidden beneath the second-story diving board.

  The hall of dressing rooms was dark and she didn’t see a light switch, so she grabbed a fluffy white towel from the stack just outside the doorway and walked away from the darkness until she was directly under one of the wall sconces. There, she untied her sarong and hung it and the towel over the extended arm of a white marble undine.

  Approaching the pool, she tested the water, found it warm, dove in and swam as far as she could. She popped up, gasping for breath, and looked around - she was out in the middle of the deep blue pool. The bottom was far beneath her. She felt the eyes of the statues on her and shuddered; they seemed alive.

  She turned and saw the tall diving board directly across from her. On the one hand, she couldn’t wait to try it; on the other, she didn’t like looking at the dark doorway beneath it. She swam toward the far edge of the pool, and it felt so good she ignored her silly fears and pushed off the edge, swimming back across, coming to a halt beneath the diving board, where she stared boldly into the darkness of the dressing room corridor.

  Only children are afraid of the dark. You’re not a child anymore. She thought she caught movement in the darkness, just a flicker at the edge of her vision, but when she focused, nothing was there. Behind the gentle slap and gurgle of water, she was certain she heard bare feet padding on wet cement. You’re imagining things.

  She couldn’t possibly hear footsteps over the ambient sounds of the water and filters. But there they were again, somehow separate from the other sounds, drawing closer and closer, right to the wrought iron ladder that spiraled up to the diving board.

  The ladder creaked.

  Belinda forced herself to remain calm, and began a slow backstroke across the pool. Metal creaks. That’s just what it does. She came to a halt, hanging in the water halfway across, her gaze flicking toward the diving board and dark doorway. Overhead, the skylights showed gray dawn. She treaded water, still watching as she chided herself for acting like a baby. You really know how to freak yourself out.

  Someone dove off the board.

  She gasped and stared - the plank was still, but she was sure she’d heard the distinct thump and rattle of a diving board. She heard the splash as if an invisible body had plunged into the pool, but there was no movement in the water. Nothing was there. What the heck was that?

  Panic flooded her as she caught the sounds of someone stroking toward her. Without thinking, she turned and scissored down in a quick dive, and headed in the opposite direction. Don’t let them catch you!

  Gasping for breath, she broke the surface and glanced around. The statues leered at her and the stars seemed too close. She bobbed on the same side as the diving board but quite a ways down from it, just inside the entrance of one of the narrow swimming tunnels. She reached up and grabbed the lip of the pool, ready to boost herself up and out. And run like hell!

  “When the moon la-la-la la-la-l
a la-la-la, that’s amore …”

  Belinda went as still as one of the statues.

  “When the world la-la-la la-la-la la-la-la, that’s amore …”

  That’s not a ghost! She peeked over the lip of the pool.

  Eric Manning, below the silver moon, was undressing as he sang. He’d already put his shirt on Poseidon’s knee and was adding his pants to the pile. Belinda eyed his red Speedos, opened her mouth to greet him then stopped.

  Facing away from her, he peeled off his underwear and gave them to the sea god’s care. “Thanks, old fellow,” he said to the statue. “Jolly nice of you.”

  Belinda’s breath caught, and of their own volition, her eyes traveled over his backside. His body was powerful and fit, his shoulders broad, leading down to a tapered waist; a perfect swimmer’s form. His muscles flexed as he raised his arms and stretched for his swim. Belinda stared, then burning with embarrassment, ducked down before he could turn around and catch her looking. A second passed, and she heard him dive into the pool.

  Oh my God! Oh my God! She heard him swimming nearer and nearer - he was going the length of the pool, she was certain. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the surface as he passed. He was so close she could hear his strokes underwater.

  She came up for air as he reached the end of the pool. Barely breathing, she listened to him suck in a breath then kick off again. She went back under and waited for him to swim past, but heard nothing. She held her breath as long as she could then came up with a gasp.

  “Belinda,” said Eric, who floated no more than five feet from her. “I didn’t realize you were here.” His dark hair clung to his forehead, giving him a schoolboy look. His blue eyes took her in.

  “I didn’t think anyone would be down here this early. I’m sorry. I can leave if you want.” Her entire body burned with embarrassment.

  “No, no, don’t leave.” He held onto the poolside, treading water a respectable distance away, but still close enough that she could almost feel his heat. His gaze widened, showing a flash of worry. “Did you see me come in?” He was trying to sound casual.

  “I … I heard you. But, uh, I didn’t see you.”

  “No? You didn’t?” He sounded relieved. “So … you heard me singing?”

  “Singing?” she repeated, in a frantic tap dance. “Um, I thought I heard a radio. I thought Riley walked by outside or something. Or maybe Grant. It sounded like Dean Martin.”

  Eric’s hearty laugh echoed through the building. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I was underwater. I’ve been practicing holding my breath. It’s, uh, a yoga thing. It’s very good for you.” Yoga? Just. Stop. Talking.

  Eying her, Eric smiled. “If you say so.”

  Belinda wasn’t sure, but thought he moved a little closer.

  “Is this your first time?”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  “Your first time? In the pool?”

  “Oh. Yes.” She couldn’t think straight. “Yes, my first. I couldn’t sleep and I thought I wouldn’t disturb anyone if I came this early on a weekend.”

  “You can come whenever you like, Belinda.” He moved a foot closer.

  As he bobbed, her eyes took in the expanse of his shoulders, the cut of muscle under the smooth skin. Butterflies took frantic flight in her belly. “I can?” Her throat went dry.

  “Of course. This is your home, too.” He was now barely three feet from her.

  She didn’t mean to let the giggle escape.

  “You seem rather excited,” Eric said. He moved closer, then glanced down and pulled up short. He edged back a foot.

  He doesn’t want me to see it. She bit back another giggle. “I guess I’m a little nervous,” she told him. “I heard some noises before, but it must have been you.”

  “Noises?”

  “Yes, it had to have been you ... on the diving board.” She hadn’t seen him there, but he didn’t know that. It seemed like a good icebreaker.

  “What exactly did you hear?”

  “Well, I thought I heard bare feet come out of the dressing room, but that’s just nonsense. I must’ve let my imagination run wild.”

  “Perhaps, he said. “What about the diving board?”

  She nodded, embarrassed. “I thought I heard-”

  Suddenly, as she stared at Eric, she heard it again, the spring of the diving board followed by a big splash. “Did someone just dive in?” she asked.

  His eyes lifted toward the board then returned to her. “Not exactly,” he said in a hollow tone.

  “What do you mean?”

  A shrill scream rent the air in a million echoes; Belinda yelped and lunged toward Eric. She hid her head against his shoulder and only when his arms tightened around her did she realize he was holding her.

  “Shh. It’s all right.” His voice held a tremble. He was frightened, too.

  “What was that?”

  He looked around. “Well,” he said. “We … we do have peacocks on the grounds. I’ll bet one of them got in and is wandering around in the dressing rooms or behind them in the racquetball court. It’s, uh, happened before. Their calls often sound like screams, you know.”

  Belinda realized her fingers were digging into his back and eased off without quite letting go. “Do you really think so?” Her heart tried to beat out of her chest, but his words reassured her. All at once, she remembered his nakedness and her sense of safety was quickly crushed by embarrassment. She was relieved they were in shadow because she was sure she’d turned twenty different shades of red.

  “Yes. That is … Yes, I’m quite sure.” He stared into her eyes, his face so close, his full lips inches from hers. “I-” He cleared his throat and edged away slightly when their thighs made brief contact. “That is to say, I do believe you’ve met our diving board ghost.”

  “What?” With reluctance, she moved out of his arms. “A ghost?”

  “A very nice one. I hear her quite often.”

  “Her?”

  “Isobel. My wife. She had an accident on the diving board. She was an expert diver, and loved to come down here in the morning and practice somersaults and all sorts of fancy dives. One morning ...”

  “She drowned?”

  His eyes were the gray of thunderheads. “Isobel broke her neck.”

  “Oh, Eric. I’m so sorry.”

  He averted his gaze. “We didn’t know for hours. I came to get her for brunch - and she was at the bottom of the pool.” He swallowed, looked determined. “It was a sad day for all of us.” He looked up at the board. “Ever since, now and then, I hear what you just heard. It makes me feel like she’s saying hello.”

  “That’s lovely. Have the kids heard it? The diving board, I mean?” Her mind was still on the scream.

  “Not that I know of, but they prefer the outdoor pool. And I’m sure there must be a good explanation for that sound.” He pushed hair off his forehead. “I’m coming off like a loon, talking about ghosts like this.”

  “No, you aren’t. Ravencrest is full of ghosts.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “No one,” she lied.

  “Have you seen any?”

  “I just mean the mansion feels like it’s full of your ancestors. Probably because of all those family portraits.” Belinda paused. “I’m very sorry about your wife.”

  “She would have liked you.” His eyes were as deep and fathomless as the pool.

  “Thank you,” she said, remembering his nakedness. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been in here so long I feel like a prune.”

  “Of course. You go ahead. I have a breakfast meeting this morning, but I’ll see you for lunch?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Perhaps we might have Niko pack a picnic and we’ll take the children out by the duck pond. Unless you have other plans?”

  “That sounds lovely.” Belinda put both hands on the pool lip and pushed herself out of the water. “I’ll see you at noon.”

  “It’s a date,�
� he said, watching her. “And if you’d like to join me for an early morning swim tomorrow, meet me here at six-thirty.”

  “I’d like that.” As she walked away, she could feel his approving gaze. She opened the door and glanced back. He waved. She returned it and walked out into the dawn.

  Rats

  “Dr. Akin still hasn’t returned, I’m afraid,” said the receptionist on the other end of the line. “We don’t know where he is and frankly, we’re a little worried.”

  “How peculiar.” A heavy feeling settled in the pit of Belinda’s stomach.

  “Would you like to speak to Dr. Johnson?”

  Belinda almost said no then changed her mind. “Yes, actually, I would. Thank you.”

  After several minutes on hold, Dr. Johnson picked up. “Miss Moorland, how can I help you?”

  “I consulted Dr. Akin about some sleeping problems, and since he … well …”

  “We’re all very concerned about his disappearance.”

  “Yes, I hope he’s back soon.” Belinda hesitated. “Anyway, he was going to prescribe something for my nightmares and insomnia. He had an emergency, and later, Mrs. Heller gave me some pills in an unmarked bottle.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “She said you prescribed them?”

  He cleared his throat. “I … uh, yes. However, I’m going to call in a new prescription for you; something I think will suit you better.”

  She was sure Dr. Johnson hadn’t prescribed anything and was covering for Heller. Belinda was glad she’d heeded Grant’s warning, and wondered what pills Heller had given her. “That would be wonderful,” she said.

  “I’ll call the scrip into the pharmacy right now, Miss Moorland, and I apologize for the confusion.”

  “It’s not a problem, Dr. Johnson. And I do hope Dr. Akin returns safely.”

  “I do, too.” There was something in the man’s voice - something edgy. He sounded afraid.