by Corwin, Amy
No wonder the assistants who’d scouted the place thought she was nuts to even suggest it. She could understand now why they were willing to believe there was something wrong with the house, that it was haunted.
If there was one building on earth that could make her believe in ghosts, this was that house.
But there was the money. Think of the money. No more putting animals down because their week was over. No more watching their trusting brown eyes glaze over as they died because no one wanted them. They could build room to house all of them by expanding the current facility.
And they could raze this place to the ground, fill in that terrible moat, and build something else, something healthier. Cheerful. She straightened her shoulders and moved closer to Gabe.
He grinned as he dragged her roller bag out of the back of his vehicle. “You didn’t pack much.”
“It’s only two weeks, and I’m sure they have laundry facilities.”
He dug around for a minute and pulled out several black leather bags—why was she surprised at his choice of bags?—and his grin widened as he studied the house.
“Kind of quaint.” One dark brow soared in an amused challenge to her. “Makes you feel right at home.”
“Maybe. If you’re a ghoul.”
He laughed and walked up to the wooden drawbridge as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The wheels of Nora’s bag wobbled over the sandy path as she followed reluctantly.
A glance over the side at the moat made her stomach churn.
Ten feet below, black water glistened between scummy patches of filamentous green algae. The grainy concrete sides of the moat rose up in sheer walls that offered no handholds if you were unlucky enough to fall into the dark water. Nora shivered again. How many poor animals had fallen in and unable to climb out, grew exhausted and drowned in that horrible pit? Even the air above the depths smelled of decay and rotting vegetation.
A flash of sunlight shimmered over an oily patch of black water. She gazed into it, leaning forward, the rank, musty odor making her dizzy.
“Watch it.” Gabe gripped her arm and drew her back a step. “Nasty.”
“Yes.” She leaned against him briefly, her left hand seeking his. When his warm fingers gripped hers, she steadied. “Thanks.” With a small smile, she withdrew her hand.
“I’ll go first.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him back far enough to step onto the drawbridge ahead of him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not helpless.” She bit back the childish phrase, you can’t tell me what to do.
The roller bag clicked and clattered over the rough wooden planks, jerking in her hand as she pulled it after her. Midway across, the wheels caught between two planks. The handle jolted out of her grip. A flicker of white at one of the windows above her caught her attention. She stared at it before turning and taking a step back to release her bag. Another step and…
Crack. Her feet stumbled onto…nothing.
She flailed her arms wildly, trying to regain her balance. Her stomach lurched, hitting the back of her throat. She was falling! Her fingers raked the whispering air. There was nothing to hold on to—no way to save herself.
Oh, my God—it’s the house! A whimper rose into a scream as her feet hit the reeking black surface below.
Behind her, the clanking, rattling sound of the heavy chain, torn loose from its moorings, chased her into the depths of the cement pit.
Freezing water rushed over her face and head. Her body clenched, her heart contracting painfully. A spasm went through her, trying to force her mouth open, to breathe against the shock and pressure of the freezing water. She clenched her jaw and sealed her lips. The icy depths pulled at her, filling her ears and clothes, tightening its painful grip around her chest.
The chain! She tore through the water, kicking upward and away. The falling chain would drag her to the bottom. Or the thick links would kill her outright. The water surged, and she could almost feel the weight of it rushing toward her. She had to move, to get away.
Her lungs screamed, and she kicked, her hiking boots heavy with water, dragging her down. A sudden wave hit her. Something hard raked her leg and caught at her boot. She cupped her hands in a last effort to escape and thrust upward.
Air! Her face broke through the surface. She gasped and sputtered. Thick, slippery strands of algae clung to her eyes and hair. The terrible stench of rot made her gag.
“Nora!”
A mixture of voices called to her from above. Part of her mind heard them, distant and remote. Unimportant in the face of her need to breathe and keep her mouth above the rippling surface of the stinking water.
The thick miasma rising from the mats of filmy algae and black water filled her nose and lungs. Light-headed, she coughed and paddled. Foul liquid splashed over her chin and nose. Her sodden clothes weighted her down. Her muscles burned as she kicked and tried to stay on the surface.
A pitfall—trap. There was no place to grab hold or find safety. Desperation cramped her chest. She gasped again, her arms churning the water more desperately, the babble of words above her as irritating as the clouds of biting gnats nipping at her eyelids and slipping into her sodden hair.
Think!
She scraped the slime away from her eyes. A few feet away, the chain hung down against the concrete wall, the end submerged in the rippling black water. She kicked and splashed over to it and hooked her stiff, icy fingers through one of the links.
She’d climbed ropes years ago in physical education class. She could do this, she could climb out. A flush of warm hope eased through the painful band of tension cramping her chest. But her arms ached and the muscles shook as she hung on to the slippery, cold links. Shock and exhaustion. She didn’t have much time.
She had to save herself.
She tightened her grip and kicked around until she felt the thick rings hit her boots.
Inch by inch, she pulled herself up, aware of an increasing chill as the autumn air seeped through her drenched clothing. Another inch, then another foot. Her muscles shook uncontrollable. The top of the moat came into view. Exhausted, she paused to take a deep breath, preparing to crawl over the smooth edge that lacked any handholds.
With a final surge, she pulled herself up. Miraculously, an arm appeared above her, gripped the back of her fleece jacket and yanked her onto the ground. She gasped and rolled over to lie on her back, staring up at the clear blue sky as she coughed and tried to catch her breath.
“Nora!” Gabe’s insistent voice roused her. He shook her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and rolled over onto her knees.
“Why didn’t you let me go first?” Gabe helped her to stand.
She shivered in the cool air and wrapped her arms around herself. Why was he mad at her? She was the one who’d almost been killed while he stood around, gaping. Tears burned her eyes and she gagged, exhausted and sick.
“You hired me to protect you,” he continued in a hard voice. “What’s the point if you don’t do what I say?”
“I don’t need someone telling me what to do,” she managed to say.
“Do you realize you could have been killed?” He gripped her arms and gave her a shake. “You may be independent, but you’ve got to listen to me or there’s no point in this.”
“Then maybe there’s no point,” she whispered miserably.
Couldn’t he see she was freezing, that she needed to get inside, to get warm and clean? She shivered in the cool air and stared at the house, loathing it.
That evil house.
Her jaws ached from her chattering teeth. Despite her fear, she wanted to get inside. But they were on the wrong side of the moat. A yawning gap of at least five feet in the drawbridge left her staring at the open front door of Autumn Hill, unable to reach it. Her bag, wheels still stuck between two rough planks, stood at the very edge of the chasm.
“Never mind.” The hard edge of his voice softened.
“What?” She was
too tired to think of a snappy reply.
“Stay where you are.” Gabe backed up a step.
“Why? What are you going to do?” she replied sharply.
Her hands fluttered in front of her, needing to brush the slime off, but not actually wanting to touch the filthy, clinging strands. The acrid stench of moist decay emanated from her clothes and hair. As the shock wore away, she grew more wretched. Her fall had plunged her into a stew of pathogenic microorganisms that were now squirming over every inch of her. Protozoa, parasites, bacteria…thousands of the tiny, wriggling parasites that inhabited stagnant water and could produce everything from diarrhea to typhoid fever. Or death.
She might as well have added a spoonful of arsenic to her coffee that morning. She shivered more violently, desperate to reach a shower and get clean. Water clogged her ears, and she tilted her head to clear the ear canals. Otitis externa—an ear infection—seemed inevitable. Years of vet school produced horrendous visions parasitic infections.
Despite spitting out the water, she could taste the putrid liquid in her mouth and smell it on her breath. She stuck a finger in her throat and forced herself to vomit for fear of what she may have swallowed.
“We’re going,” Gabe said when she straightened again.
“No, we’re staying. And don’t you dare try to drag me back to your car.” Now that push had come to shove, her native stubbornness awoke, flashing with anger. She didn’t scare that easily. She looked around for a plank of wood, anything big enough to bridge that hole.
“Don’t be a fool—”
She stared at Gabe, daring him to argue. “I’m going inside, I’m going to take a hot shower, and then we’ll discuss it.”
He studied her and nodded abruptly before digging into his pocket. “Fine. I have a few things in my vehicle we can use.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “We won’t fall into the moat again, trust me. In the back of my truck is a ramp. It should be long enough to bridge the gap. If you’re sure you want to stay.”
Before she agreed, he strode back to his truck. Her heart choked her, but she spit out another foul mouthful and followed him, not wanting to be left alone by the moat. The water in her boots squelched and sloshed out onto the gray, sandy dirt, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind her.
The well-oiled hinges of the truck’s back panels opened easily at Gabe’s touch. She peered over his shoulder. Despite a densely packed and awe-inspiring array of tools and odd-and-ends, he didn’t hesitate. He yanked out a telescoping metal ramp that had been leaning against one side of the vehicle. Puffballs of hair—dog hair?—followed the ramp and cascaded gently to the ground. Chattering teeth and general miserableness made her stand back instead of offering to help. She watched silently as Gabe dragged it over to the moat and let it plunk down on the few remaining planks of the drawbridge.
“I’m just going to slide it over the gap.” Gabe studied her. “Wait there. You don’t have to do anything.”
She eyed him and rubbed her upper arms. “Did I offer to do anything?”
He had the grace to look startled. In fact, the tips of his ears turned the lovely shade of homegrown, sun-ripened tomato red. As if to cover his embarrassment, he knelt at the edge of the drawbridge and manipulated the ramp into position.
The device just barely bridged the chasm.
She caught Gabe’s gaze and shrugged. “Do you want me to go first?”
“Well,” his flush deepened, “you’re lighter. I’ll steady it for you.”
“Fine.” She eased across the remaining planks, grabbed her recalcitrant bag by the handle, and walked as quickly as possible. The metal rattled and bowed underneath her feet when she neared the center. She moved more quickly and nearly ran across the last few feet of the remaining drawbridge planks.
She stopped at the door and leaned against it, breathing rapidly. She’d made it.
Moving lightly, Gabe grabbed his bags and crossed quickly. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze when he halted next to her. Then he beat a short tattoo on the door’s simple brass knocker.
When the door opened, she thrust her way inside without bothering to see who had opened it. A shadowy grand hall stretched out before her, and she looked around, relieved to have firm ground—actually, a very elegant white marble—beneath her squelching hiking boots. Behind her, she heard the clanking of the metal ramp as Gabe carefully pulled it up and collapsed it, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the drawbridge. The gray-haired woman who had opened the door stared at her, one hand still holding the doorknob.
Gabe barely gave the gray-haired woman a glance. Instead, he focused on Nora, his dark brows furrowed in a scowl.
He was angry with her for not listening to him, for going first across the bridge. If she’d done as he’d asked, he’d have been the one to get dunked in that bacteria soup. A hot flush washed up her throat and over her cheeks, ashamed at her sudden wish that she’d complied with his request, even if she had proven that she could take care of herself by climbing out on her own. Her skin crawled with slime under her saturated clothes as if to contradict the thought.
Maybe she’d apologize to him later. Right now, she desperately wanted a shower. She cast a long look over her shoulder. Her eyes focused on the ragged hole in the drawbridge. A little bit more of her self-confidence trickled away.
There was no escape now.
They had arrived at Autumn Hill.
Chapter Four
An odd feeling came over Gabe as he adjusted the ramp to lean against the wall. They were under observation, and not just by the gray-haired woman holding the door open. The fine hair on his forearms tickled as if an unseen spider had crept under his sleeve. He glanced around but didn’t see anyone staring at them.
Was someone disappointed that Nora had survived her fall? There was malignance in that stare—hatred—he could feel it. His gut tightened. He should force her to leave now. It wasn’t safe here, especially for a woman like Nora. They’d just arrived, and she’d already suffered what could have been a fatal accident, due in part to her independence.
If she wasn’t going to listen to him—he crushed the angry thought. It was his job to protect her, regardless of excuses and obstacles, even if the biggest obstacle was her own obstinacy. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper. That would only lead to more mistakes.
His hand went to his cell phone of its own volition before he had second thoughts. Notifying the police would be useless. They’d claim it was an accident. The planks forming the drawbridge were old. The remaining boards showed signs of dampness and rot along the edges. Large splinters jutted out, ready to flake off at the slightest pressure. Time had clearly eaten away the wood’s integrity. And the chain could have come loose from its moorings if the neglect evident in the decaying wood held true for the controlling mechanism as well.
He glanced up at saw a skinny guy lope around the house from the left, on the opposite side of the moat. He came to a standstill near Gabe’s truck and stared at it. When he glanced at the house, he smiled and flapped a hand at them.
Gabe nodded thoughtfully.
The lanky guy had a goofy, bright-but helpless air about him, and he appeared fascinated by Gabe’s vehicle. He strolled around it nodding and bending down to look at the undercarriage, all the while grinning madly.
The gray-haired woman caught the direction of Gabe’s glance and said, “That’s Don Bain. He takes care of the outside of the house. Only been here a couple of months.”
“Doesn’t do a very good job, does he?” Nora said, gesturing at the hole in the ramp. A piece of green weed hanging from her wrist swayed. Grimacing, she plucked it off and was about to drop it when she caught the other woman’s disgusted expression.
Nora flushed and shoved the weed into her pocket.
“He only does the grounds. He doesn’t come inside the house. It’s a rule,” the woman stated in a flat voice, although her eyes hardened as she glanced again at the young man. “Besides, he won’t
come too near the house. Says it’s haunted.” Apparently, she didn’t entirely approve of him, either.
Gabe looked again at the drawbridge. A thousand innocent things could have caused Nora’s accident, but the tension tightening his muscles warned him that none of those trivial explanations were true.
After another quick glance around, he leaned the metal ramp against one of the dark paneled walls in the entryway. The woman who had opened the door watched him expressionlessly as she stood with her back to the wall and one hand on the doorknob, still holding the door open as if frozen in place.
“The ghosts don’t want you here.” She gestured toward the broken bridge, the lines bracketing her mouth and wrinkling the skin between her brows deepening. She looked more worried than hostile as her gaze flickered between Gabe and Nora. “You shouldn’t stay—it’s too dangerous. None of us should be here. I warned them others, but they just laughed.”
Gabe interrupted, “I’m Gabriel O’Brien. This is Nora James.”
“I’m the housekeeper, Miss Lennox.”
“Well, Miss Lennox, I hate to ignore your advice, but we’re staying,” Nora said before Gabe could continue. “And I don’t really care what the spirits think about it.”
“Don’t say that.” Miss Lennox’s frown deepened. “They’ll murder you, just like they did Mr. James.”
“That’s nice.” Nora brushed a piece of green slime away from the corner of her mouth. “It’ll give the police something more to do.”
“You shouldn’t joke about it. This house isn’t healthy. Your uncle—” She pressed her lips together tightly as if she thought better of whatever she was going to say. “It’s your choice, of course.” The woman’s gaze moved dismissively from Nora to Gabe.
Her eyes were gray and sharp and seemed to see right through him, the way the nuns had in school when he thought he was going to get away with something. He never did then, and he had the feeling he wasn’t going to, now.
