The Awakening

by Amanda Stevens

  “She?”

  “He used the feminine pronoun. At that point, he’d only caught glimpses of the ghost from the corner of his eye, but he was convinced the entity meant him harm.”

  Devlin polished off his drink and poured himself another. “Did he give you a name?”

  I said nothing for a moment as I reflected on his reaction. “You’re accepting all of this far more easily than I would have ever dreamed.”

  “I don’t know how much I accept. But I am trying to listen with an open mind.”

  “I appreciate that. I know this must be difficult for you. In more ways than one. I said it earlier and I’ll say it again—I’m truly sorry for what happened.”

  His gaze dropped to his drink as if he suddenly had a hard time meeting my eyes. “I know you are. But let’s just get through this. This ghost...”

  I nodded. “Yes, the ghost. He said he had a suspicion of who she was and why she was there, but he wouldn’t tell me anything more unless I agreed to help him.”

  “And did you?”

  “No, not then. I told him he was misinformed about me and there was nothing I could do. I realize how coldhearted that sounds now, but you have to look at it from my point of view. I didn’t know your grandfather. He’d never shown the slightest interest in me and then suddenly he comes to me for help. I had no way of knowing if he was telling me the truth. For all I knew he could have been setting a trap.”

  “What kind of trap?”

  “Remember the list I told you about? I had every reason to believe that your grandfather was a member of the Congé and that his true purpose for making contact was to expose me.”

  “Did you tell him that?” I heard a note in Devlin’s voice that jolted me.

  “No. I only said that I couldn’t help him.”

  He fell silent once more, staring yet again into the amber depths of his drink. But I had to wonder what was going through his mind. Was he really listening with an open mind or was this a trap?

  Don’t. Now was not the time for doubts and insecurities. Now was not the time to retreat behind my walls when we were finally clearing the air. Before Kroll Cemetery, I could never have been so open, but things had changed since we’d last been together. Devlin had changed and I could only wonder about his experiences during our estrangement. What had he seen, what had he heard?

  “Go on,” he finally said.

  “Your grandfather wouldn’t take no for an answer. He came to see me again at the cemetery the next morning. He was very upset and he seemed so frail, I worried that he was on the verge of collapse. He told me that the ghost had tried to kill him the night before.”

  Devlin drew a quick breath. “How?”

  “He was alone in the house. He heard a noise and got up to investigate. He felt a powerful wind, a gale force that nearly knocked him down the stairs. Somehow he managed to cling to the bannister. He saw her then. He saw the ghost, fully manifested. He knew who she was and why she’d come.”

  Devlin leaned in. “And?”

  I sighed. “He still wouldn’t tell me about her unless I came to his home. He said I should come at twilight. He would make sure that you and the housekeeper were out for the evening so that we could speak in private.”

  “That explains all the errands,” Devlin muttered. “So you went to see Grandfather to find out about the ghost?”

  “Not just about the ghost.” I took another quick sip of my drink. “He also said he would tell me why you’ve agreed to marry Claire Bellefontaine.”

  “He promised that, did he?” Devlin got up and went over to the door to glance out into the side garden. The whiskey had relaxed him for a time, but now he seemed nervous and edgy. Obviously, we were getting to the part of the story that made him uncomfortable.

  He turned back to the table, propping a shoulder against the door frame as he regarded me for another long moment. “You say you went to see my grandfather to find out why I agreed to marry Claire. But you already know the answer, don’t you?”

  “I think it goes back to our last conversation in Kroll Cemetery. But I’d still like to hear you say it.”

  “And I will. I’ll tell you everything. No more secrets. But...”

  I lifted a querying brow.

  His gaze deepened, drawing me once more into his orbit, making me breathless with awareness as he stood there gazing down at me. “I need to hear the rest of your story first. What happened when you got to the house?” He returned to the table, brushing a hand so lightly against my shoulder that I wondered if I had imagined his touch.

  I shivered as he once more sat down across from me. “The front door was open and I let myself in. I can’t explain it, but I had a feeling, a premonition that something was wrong. I could hear the music box playing and I followed the sound back to your grandfather’s study.”

  “That’s when you found him?”

  “I didn’t even see him at first. I was distracted by the ghost.”

  A slight hesitation. “You saw the ghost in Grandfather’s study?”

  “Yes. The spirit of a child, a little girl. I’d seen her before in Woodbine Cemetery. I think my presence in the cemetery somehow awakened her.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. After all these years, I still don’t know how or why they come to me. Papa says I have a light inside me that draws them. They come because they have to, like a moth to flame. As I said earlier, they sometimes want things from me.”

  “What does this ghost want?”

  “I can only guess. I still don’t know her name or when she died, but she appears to have been around ten when she passed. She had long blond hair and blue eyes. A very pretty child, but not a happy one. Do you have any idea how she might have been connected to your grandfather?”

  Devlin shrugged. “I don’t know of any relative who would fit that description. My father was an only child, as am I.” He paused. “You didn’t answer my question. What does she want from you?”

  “I think she wants me to find her killer.”

  He looked stunned. “She was murdered? How can you possibly know that? You said you don’t even know her name or when she died.”

  “She showed me.”

  “She showed you...how?”

  I made a helpless gesture with my hand. “I can’t really explain it, but I sometimes have visions.”

  “You’re clairvoyant?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s more like glimpses into memories. She let me see how she died. She was pushed down a flight of stairs and the fall broke her neck. The killer carried her away and I think he hid her body. It’s not just a matter of exposing her murderer. It’s not just a matter of justice. She needs me to find her remains so that she can have a proper burial. So that she can finally rest in peace.”

  For the first time, Devlin seemed to struggle to remain receptive.

  “You must know how all this sounds to me.”

  “Yes.”

  “All these years, you’ve kept this to yourself.”

  “Not completely to myself. I’ve confided in Dr. Shaw from time to time.”

  His gaze flickered. “Him, but not me.”

  “You didn’t really want to know any of this, did you? You never made any bones about your disdain for Dr. Shaw’s work. What was I to think your reaction would be to all this?”

  “I was wrong,” he said. “I never realized how wrong until this past year, but we’ll get to that. We’ll get to everything. God.” He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s so much to say, isn’t there? So much time has been wasted with all these secrets. But we can’t think about that right now. We can’t let ourselves get distracted. This child...this ghost. You said you saw her in Grandfather’s study. You don’t think she had anything to do with his death, do you? Could a ghost
even do that?”

  “I’ve no idea. I do know the dead can influence the living, but I don’t think that’s the case here. Your grandfather said something to me that last morning at Woodbine Cemetery. He said that if a crime had been committed, his was one of silence. Maybe he knew what happened to that child. Maybe he was the only living person besides the killer who did know. That’s why the ghost child came to him. Not to harm him, but because she needed his help. His guilty conscience misinterpreted her visits.”

  Devlin picked up his glass and swallowed the contents in one gulp. Then he poured himself another. When he saw my concern he said, “Don’t worry. I walked over. I’m not about to get behind the wheel tonight.”

  “You can stay here if you like. In the guest room, I mean.”

  He smiled at that. “Thank you, but I’ll need the cover of darkness when I leave. I can’t be seen here.”

  “By Claire?”

  His gaze instantly darkened. “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

  “Yes. And I promise I’ll try to remain as open-minded as you were.”

  “You’ll need to be,” he said. “It would also help not to underestimate the evil that can reside inside a human soul.”

  “I never underestimate evil.”

  He glanced around as if suddenly remembering the scratches on my front porch, and I could have sworn I saw him shudder. “I told you that Claire and her stepbrother are not good people.”

  “Your grandfather said the same thing. He said that your engagement to Claire is a business arrangement. You each have something the other needs or can provide. For her, it’s the Devlin name.”

  “And for me?”

  “You told me yourself in Kroll Cemetery, didn’t you? You said you’d learned things about yourself and about your grandfather that made it dangerous for us to be together. You weren’t just talking about the Congé, were you? You’d already met Claire and you were trying to protect me.”

  Another fleeting smile. “You still think you know me that well?”

  “I think I don’t know you at all,” I said. “You seem more of a stranger to me now than you did when we first met. And yet...” His devastating gaze made me shiver.

  “There’s still a connection,” he said.

  “So strong that at times I can feel your presence before you ever enter a room. I can hear your voice in my ear when I know you’re miles away. Sometimes I wonder...”

  “Say it.” His voice was husky from the whiskey, but his drawl was like velvet.

  “You told me once that you would have found me no matter what because we were meant to be together. In spite of everything, do you still believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though you’re engaged to another woman?”

  He reached across the table and took my hand. “Since that first night on the Battery, there’s never been anyone but you. I can’t envision a time when there ever would be.”

  “And yet...you are engaged to another woman.”

  He held my hand in both of his for a moment before letting me go. I felt bereft.

  “I’d like to tell you about that now,” he said. “If you still want to hear it.”

  “I do.”

  “It’s a sordid tale,” he warned. “One that involves blackmail, murder and the occult. And that’s only the beginning.”

  Twenty-Eight

  I pushed my glass away. I’d had enough whiskey. It was making me fuzzy-headed and I needed a clear mind. But Devlin seemed to have no such compunction. He sipped in silence for a few moments as if trying to decide where to begin.

  “You’ll remember last year before you left for Kroll Cemetery I was already concerned about my grandfather’s health and mental state,” he said. “That’s when he first started to tell me things about our family’s history and legacy and about the organization that he had been involved in years ago. An organization immersed in ritual and secrecy.”

  “Not unlike the Order of the Coffin and the Claw,” I pointed out.

  “The Order has always been about tradition and connections. The rituals and secrecy were a way to foster an air of exclusivity. The group that Grandfather spoke about had a far darker history.”

  “The Congé,” I said. “So you do know about them.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said grimly. “I know about them. Unlike the Order, they did more than dabble in the occult. The other night you compared them to the Salem witch hunters. You’re not wrong. I’ve heard them called sentinels, vigilantes, you name it. But until last year, I never considered them anything more than an urban legend. Parts of the South, especially here in Charleston, remain steeped in superstition and tradition. There have been rumors about underground organizations for centuries.”

  “Not all of them are rumors,” I said.

  “No, but for the most part, secret societies belong to another era. At least that’s what I thought. During my time at Emerson University, even the Order of the Coffin and the Claw was in decline. But last year, Grandfather told me that the rumors about the Congé are true. They’re a very old and wealthy organization, and as you said, their origin dates back to the city’s founding. They were once thought of as powerful guardians, but over the years, their purpose became corrupted, first by zealots and then by greed. They fell out of favor and mostly went dormant except for a few of the most extreme fanatics. The story Essie Goodwine told you about the twelve caged graves you found—that’s all true.”

  “Was your grandfather involved in that?”

  “No, but he knew about it. As I said, most everyone had left the organization by then, including my grandfather. Now it seems the group is on the rise again.”

  “Why now?”

  He shrugged. “These are turbulent times and the Congé know how to exploit fear and superstition. They feed on human frailty. People like my grandfather—the old guard—were coerced into returning to the fold in order to lend clout and legitimacy to the movement.”

  “Coerced how?”

  “Intimidation, bribery.” Devlin paused. “They came to my grandfather with a proposition. Either he return and help with recruitment or certain things from his past would be made public.”

  “What things?”

  “Incidents like the twelve caged graves. He wasn’t personally involved, but even the slightest connection could have been devastating to him, not to mention the legal ramifications. But there was something else they had on him, something personal. He wouldn’t confide in me so I started digging and discovered that Claire Bellefontaine and Rance Duvall were behind the threats and behind the movement. The Congé is just the sort of organization to appeal to their sense of entitlement and thirst for power.”

  “But you must have already known them. Charleston is a very insular city, especially among the elites.”

  He nodded. “I knew each of them by reputation. I’d heard talk about Rance Duvall for years.”

  “What kind of talk?”

  “Mostly about the decadent parties he threw on Duvall Island and later his proclivity for stalking and abusing underage girls. At one time, the rumors were rampant. Apparently, some of his victims even filed charges, but their families were paid off. One of the girls disappeared without a trace.”

  I stared at him aghast. “Disappeared as in murdered?”

  “We don’t know that. Her family may have been bought off, too. If the police ever conducted a formal investigation, the records have since disappeared. I couldn’t find so much as an unpaid parking ticket on Duvall. He knew how to cover his trail. Time after time I hit a brick wall, so I decided the best way to bring him down and expose the Congé was by working from the inside. I resigned from the police department and my grandfather withdrew his membership so that I could be inducted in his stead.”

  “And Claire?”
/>
  “As I said, I knew her by reputation, too.” Devlin’s gaze was dark and steady. “Her first husband died under suspicious circumstances, but nothing could ever be proven.”

  “The rich really are different, aren’t they?” I murmured.

  “Yes,” Devlin said without inflection.

  “You know all this and yet you still plan to marry Claire Bellefontaine.”

  “If it comes to that.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why. She and Duvall found out about you. I don’t know how. Maybe they got to Grandfather’s investigator or maybe they hired their own. Once they knew about you, they had me.”

  “This is crazy,” I said in a daze. “I would never ask you to sacrifice your life for mine.”

  “You didn’t ask,” he said. “It’s a simple exchange. My name for your safety. If I do as they say, they won’t involve the Congé.”

  “And you trust them to keep their bargain? What happens after you’re married and Claire has what she wants?”

  “I expect she’ll try to kill me. If I don’t kill her first.”

  “You say that so calmly,” I said on a shiver.

  “Because I don’t plan to die. Not by her hand.”

  A pressure headache throbbed at my temple. I rubbed the aching spot with my fingertips. “I find this whole conversation terrifying. That you would put yourself in this kind of danger to protect me...” I closed my eyes briefly. “I don’t want this. I can take care of myself. I’ll go away for a while, take another out-of-town job. I’ll remove myself from the equation.”

  “That would only be a temporary fix,” Devlin said. “The very worst thing you can do is to underestimate them. For now, keep a low profile and let me handle the situation. Sooner or later, I’ll find what I need. No crime is perfect. Something always gets left behind.”

  I dropped my hand to the table as I stared at him. “Do you think Claire and Rance are responsible for what happened to your grandfather?”

  “That seems the logical conclusion. Once Claire had me on the hook, they no longer needed Grandfather. But a letter opener doesn’t fit their MO. They plot and they plan. They leave nothing to chance. This seems like an impulse. A crime of passion.”