The Awakening

by Amanda Stevens

  “I thought so, too. The killer didn’t go to the house with the intention of taking your grandfather’s life. But maybe that’s what they want us to think.”

  “We’ll know more after the autopsy. My grandfather was a difficult man. He made a lot of enemies over the years.”

  “Including Dr. Shaw?”

  Devlin lifted a brow. “Why do you bring him up?”

  “Not because I think him capable of murder,” I rushed to explain. “But he is an example of people who found your grandfather difficult, isn’t he? You mentioned the other night that they had a history.”

  “It goes back to when they were young men. I don’t know the details, but I’ve always thought it had something to do with Dr. Shaw’s wife. My grandfather had a penchant for acquiring the unattainable. Whether he seduced Sylvia Shaw or she rebuffed him, I’ve no idea. But both men harbored a grudge for years. I’m certain that’s why my grandfather went after Dr. Shaw’s job and reputation. That and the fact that he wanted to prove a point to me. He hated my involvement with the Institute. He despised even more my relationship with Mariama. He blamed Dr. Shaw for both. And Dr. Shaw still blames my grandfather for Ethan’s death.”

  “What? Why?” I asked in astonishment. “Your grandfather had nothing to do with Ethan pulling that trigger.”

  “Dr. Shaw thinks my grandfather manipulated Ethan’s infatuation with Mariama to try and break up my marriage.”

  “You’ve talked to him about this?”

  “He and my grandfather had a recent run-in. Things got heated. It was an ugly scene,” Devlin said. “I’ve never seen Dr. Shaw so irrational.”

  “When was this?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Is that why you tried to turn me against him?”

  Devlin sighed. “I wish it hadn’t come to that, but I had to open your eyes. His investigation into the Congé is like poking a hornet’s nest. If he doesn’t stop asking questions, you could both end up dead.”

  “He’s doing it because I asked him to.”

  “Then you need to tell him to stop.”

  “He says he’s pulled back already.”

  “I hope that’s true,”

  “I’ve no reason to think otherwise. And you know as well as I do that Dr. Shaw isn’t capable of murder.”

  Devlin gave me a long, hard stare. “Anyone is capable of murder given the right circumstances. As I said, we’ll know more once we have the autopsy and lab reports.”

  “Because something always gets left behind,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “This is a lot to take in. My head is spinning.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “I’m going to make some tea. Or would you prefer coffee?”

  “I’ll stick with whiskey,” he said, swirling the liquid in his glass.

  I busied myself with the kettle. I filled it with water and then moved to the stove. When I turned, Devlin had followed me.

  “It’s been a long night.” His eyes were slightly bloodshot, but he appeared steady on his feet. And determined.

  I drew a breath. “Yes, it has.”

  “It’s been a long year, Amelia.”

  The drawl of my name almost did me in. “Yes.” I leaned back against the counter and folded my arms. “I understand why you did what you did. Still...”

  “You can’t forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. There never was. But I did try to forget you. I tried to move on.”

  “I know.”

  I looked up at him. “What do you know?”

  His eyes on me were dark and deep and his closeness, even more than the whiskey, dizzied me. “I heard about the police detective down in Beaufort County.”

  “Him,” I said with contempt. “He was a diversion. A lapse of judgment. He tried to kill me.”

  His eyes went even darker. “I know that, too.”

  I studied his features, focusing my gaze on that tiny scar beneath his bottom lip. Still a mystery to this day. “You did more than hear about it, didn’t you? You were there.”

  Devlin cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “No more secrets, remember?”

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “What am I missing?”

  “Dr. Shaw told me about a young man he once knew who had the ability to separate his spiritual self from his corporeal body. On one of his travels, he saw something that so badly frightened him he managed to convince himself it had been a dream.” I paused, still gazing up at him. “During my time at Seven Gates Cemetery, I could feel you there with me, watching over me.”

  Devlin’s tone turned grim. “I only wish I had been there.”

  “But you were. Maybe you don’t even realize when you travel. It could happen in your sleep. But I know you were there. I heard your voice in my ear as plainly as I hear you now.”

  “Whatever you heard, whoever you heard, it wasn’t me.” He reached around me and turned off the burner. Then he placed his hands on my shoulders, gazing down at me in a way that I’d been dreaming of for a very long time. “I wasn’t there,” he said. “But I’m here now.”

  I put my hands on his chest, not to push him away or even to draw him close, but simply to feel him. He cupped my neck and then threaded his fingers through my hair as he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, the tip of my nose and then finally my lips. “I’m here, Amelia.”

  Yes, he was here, but for how long? Soon enough he would have to go back to his new life, back to his secret investigation and a fiancée who might even now be plotting his murder. Fear and panic seized me and I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him back with a fervor that seemed to stun him.

  He pulled away, staring deeply into my eyes as he dropped his hands to my waist. Then he drew me back against him, not gently, as he nuzzled my neck and whispered in my ear, “It’s been so long. God, how I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “You don’t know how many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call your number just to hear your voice. But I couldn’t. I had to keep my distance.”

  “I know.”

  “I used to drive by your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in the garden or through a window.” His low laughter throbbed in my ear. “I shouldn’t have admitted that. It makes me sound like a stalker.”

  “I understand the compulsion. I used to stand on the Battery and stare across the street at your house.”

  “Yes, I know. I saw you there once.”

  “The way you looked at me that day...it was so intimate...so powerful. It was almost as if I could feel your arms arm me. I could feel your lips at the back of my neck...”

  “Like this?” He turned me and then pulled me against him, pushing my ponytail aside as he trailed kisses along my nape.

  I shivered and let my head fall against his shoulder. “Is this a good idea?” I said with a sigh.

  “No. But when has that ever stopped us before?”

  “Never.” I turned in his arms, kissing him again as my fingers fumbled with his belt.

  “So the kitchen, then?” he whispered against my ear.

  It was tempting. I had an image of him now, shoving everything aside and lifting me to the counter as he knelt before me. But I was nothing if not practical. The kitchen had too many windows and there were too many monsters—human and otherwise—that would like nothing more than to intrude upon our intimacy. My bedroom was dark and cozy. The curtains at the window blocked even the moonlight. We would be safe there, sequestered from prying eyes and protected by hallowed ground.

  I took his hand and led him down the hallway. We closed the door against the hallway light, blocking traffic noises and Angus’s soft snores. We were alone in the dark and the quiet. Intimate strangers.

 
He tugged off my shirt and then his own. Pulling me to him once more, he ran his hands up and down my bare back and then slid them between us to find my breasts. “I’ve missed touching you.”

  “Then don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” I said on a shudder.

  We struggled out of the rest of our clothing and then stumbled to the bed. I didn’t want to think about anyone but Devlin. I didn’t want to think about anything beyond this moment. But somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a phantom knocking. I told myself it was just my imagination. No one was there. Nothing could get to me here, not even the evil that sought a way into my world. But the knocking persisted.

  “Did you hear that?” I whispered.

  Devlin lifted his head. “Hear what?”

  “I thought I heard someone knocking on the door.”

  He listened for a moment. “You’re imagining things. But I’ll go have a look around if you want.”

  “No. Don’t leave me. Don’t...” I caught my breath on a gasp as he trailed his lips lower.

  But even as he moved over me...in me, something niggled at the back of my mind. Even as my world exploded in a shuddering release, I couldn’t quite dismiss a persistent worry. Something was out there in the dark. Something from the other side.

  A door had opened because someone close to me was about to die.

  * * *

  Devlin left before daybreak. I stood at the kitchen door and watched as he went through the side gate and disappeared into the night. As soon as I heard the gate latch close, I locked up the house and returned to my bedroom, leaving the door open this time so that Angus could take his spot near the window.

  I shoved back the curtains to allow in the moonlight and stood for a moment in the silvery spill as I searched the darkness. I wanted nothing so much as to bask in the afterglow of my reunion with Devlin, but I was too uneasy. I felt more strongly than ever that things were coming to a head. A door had opened and forces were gathering. The evil that had stalked me since before my birth still watched and waited. Even now it was searching for that door, searching for my weaknesses.

  I climbed back into bed and drew the covers up to my chin. But no sooner had I closed my eyes than a knock sounded again at my front door. Angus rose with a whimper and trotted over to the bedroom door to peer down the hallway. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and watched him.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  He pivoted back to the door and emitted a low growl that had me rising and reaching for my robe. I followed him silently down the hallway and then we paused as one in the archway to stare at the front door. The knock came again, followed by a strange howl that quilled Angus’s fur.

  I’d never heard anything like it. Not even from the ghost child. Not even during my stay in Asher Falls. The sound was distant at first, and then grew steadily louder as the pounding on the door intensified.

  Something was coming. Not stealthily, but boldly. It wanted me to know that it was there. It wanted me to know that it was getting closer and closer to that doorway.

  I moved across the foyer and glanced through the peephole. The porch light was on, illuminating all but the darkest corners. Nothing was there. I moved to the window and searched the shadows. I didn’t see anything at first, but I wasn’t fooled. Unnatural beings knew how to blend with the night. I kept searching, trying to detect shapes and anomalous shadows. Once I spotted the first, the others became more apparent.

  Something was perched on my neighbor’s roof and another form crouched behind a trashcan at the curb. I watched in fascination. I had no idea the nature of these entities, but I knew they were real. They weren’t figments of my imagination, but otherworldly beings that were gathering around my house.

  I wanted to believe they would protect me, but I couldn’t help remembering Prosper Lamb’s warning about birds. I needn’t worry about why they were coming to me. The danger lay in what followed them through the doorway.

  Twenty-Nine

  I went to see Dr. Shaw the next day. After everything Devlin had told me about his recent conduct, I was very worried about him. He had seemed distracted and a little gloomy during our last visit, but the behavior Devlin had described didn’t at all sound like the man I knew.

  However, my visit was not altogether selfless. I wanted to talk to Dr. Shaw about the persistent knocks on my front door and all those strange entities I’d seen in the dark last night. Years ago, Dr. Shaw had harbored a fascination with lingering death. His wife had suffered from a terminal illness and he’d believed that in her final hours, it might be possible for him to glimpse the other side through the door that had opened for her.

  He hadn’t spoken about his late wife in a very long time, not since before his son’s death. But I’d always had the impression that theirs had been a deep and abiding love. If Jonathan Devlin had tried to destroy that relationship, I could see why Dr. Shaw might still hold a grudge after all these years.

  The parking area at the back of the Institute was empty when I arrived, and silence enveloped me as I entered the lobby. The quiet seemed strange for a weekday and I felt chilled all of a sudden, not from a ghostly manifestation but because someone watched me.

  Heart thudding in apprehension, I peered down the shadowy hallway. Dr. Shaw stood motionless in a doorway. I could feel his gaze fixed upon me and yet I had a feeling that he wasn’t really seeing me at all.

  “Dr. Shaw?” I called softly. “Is that you?”

  He didn’t answer. He made no move to acknowledge my presence, much less to come down the hallway to greet me. The way he hovered on the threshold—half in, half out—seemed portentous, perhaps even sinister, and yet I couldn’t imagine that he would ever mean harm to me or anyone else.

  I took a step toward him. “Dr. Shaw? Is something wrong?”

  “What are you doing here?” His voice sounded strangely hollow, as if he were calling up to me from a very deep well or from inside a very dark tomb. It was an unnerving effect and one I chalked up to the strangeness of the situation and my oversensitivity.

  “It’s me, Amelia. I called earlier, remember? You said I could come by today.”

  “Amelia?”

  “Amelia Gray.”

  “I know who you are, my dear. Of course I do.” I was relieved to hear that his voice sounded normal now. “And, yes, I do recall our appointment but time got away from me, I’m afraid.”

  “No worries. I can come back later if you like.”

  He glanced over his shoulder into the room and then pulled the door closed behind him as he stepped into the hallway. “No, please, come back to my office. A visit with you is just what I need.”

  “Are you sure? It seems as though I’ve interrupted something.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” He motioned toward his office, a casual gesture, but I heard a strange note in his voice that I couldn’t quite decipher.

  I followed him down the hallway and through the double pocket doors, but instead of sitting down at his desk, he walked over to the window to gaze out into the garden for a moment. “Lovely day, isn’t it? Even so late in the season, Sylvia’s roses are still blooming. She had a green thumb. Everything flourished under her care. I’m not an accomplished gardener, but I have managed to do right by her roses.”

  “The smell is intoxicating,” I said. “Even after all these years, you must still miss her.”

  “My dear, you have no idea. It’s the one thing...” He trailed away, his gaze going back to the garden.

  “What were you about to say?”

  “Nothing of consequence. Shall I put on the kettle?” he asked as he turned back to his desk. He motioned me to my usual chair and we both took seats.

  “No, thank you. I’ve already had my limit this morning, but don’t let me keep you.”

  He regarded me with kind
ly eyes as he folded his arms on his desk. I could see a slight tremor in his hands and with the morning light slanting in through the windows, the lines and creases in his careworn face seemed more prominent. He wasn’t a young man and it struck me anew that the day might come all too soon when I would no longer have the pleasure of his friendship and counsel. Losing his only son had taken a toll. He was not the same man I’d met when I first moved to Charleston. But then, if Devlin was right, maybe that man had never existed at all.

  “You look troubled,” he observed.

  “Have you read the paper or listened to the news this morning?”

  “I’ve heard about Jonathan Devlin if that’s what you’re asking. A regrettable passing, but he lived a long and, by his standards, productive life. One can’t ask for much more.”

  A regrettable passing? What a strange way of putting it. “Still, murder is distressing no matter the age or status of the victim,” I said.

  “Of course, you’re right. I don’t mean to dismiss what happened. What did happen, do you know? The news reports have been sketchy, but then I imagine the police have barely begun their investigation. I gather no arrests have been made.”

  “No, not that I’m aware of.” I thought about the letter opener protruding from Jonathan Devlin’s chest and the seep of blood across his shirt. For some reason, my gaze went to the silver letter opener in Dr. Shaw’s pencil cup, and I couldn’t help remembering the way he’d run his thumb along the blade the last time I’d sat in this very chair. He had seemed troubled then as he did now, and I wondered again about the source of his anguish.

  I shook off the memory and said, “I’m afraid I can’t offer much enlightenment. I haven’t spoken with John since last night.”

  One snowy brow rose and I could have sworn I heard his breath catch. “You’ve been in touch with John?”

  “Only briefly.”

  “My dear...” Dr. Shaw’s expression turned somber. “Do you think any contact wise?”