by Susan Conley
“And if he won’t come?”
“We’ll summon our third friend.”
Friend. That fiendish laugh echoed in Janice’s ears. She’d rather not talk with that spirit if they didn’t have to. She’d bet it didn’t know what the word friend meant.
“We won’t take no for an answer,” Muriel muttered crossly. “We’ve got to end this growing tension. Now, how to convince Jasper of my doing it.”
She fell silent and Janice knew her mind was sorting and discarding all her options. Options! What options? Quickly, Janice wrenched her mind from the terrifying absurdity that they’d never get out alive. They had to get out of the house. That was the only option.
Chapter 16
SATURDAY — 2:20 AM
The aroma of pipe smoke permeated Adrian’s nose, and he broke off reading, glad of the distraction. Over the last several minutes, the printed words had begun blurring and his back had stiffened with a pressing pain.
Straightening, he raised his elbows, finding his arm muscles stiff as well. He heard a distinct crack as he flexed his shoulders. And then, arching his back, he brought his spine to an even deeper curve. Again, he heard a crack, this one louder than the first. He was tired. The resounding crack proved it. He was warm again, though, thanks to Lloyd’s quick scrounging in a nearby closet. His newly donned shirt and trousers fit loosely, but their warmth more than made up for their bagginess.
He closed the book in front of him with a decisive snap. He was journaled out. It was time for his mind to digest what it had learned, just as his stomach was currently digesting that sub sandwich. He stole a peek at his companions and realized they too were digesting — both in mind and body.
Leaning back, Adrian propped his legs on the coffee table and let his gaze focus on the smoke rings drifting in upward spirals around Lloyd’s head. He supposed he should break the silence, but for the moment, he couldn’t summon the energy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he detected a movement. Jasper, too, was coming out of his stupor, stretching his arms above his head to restore circulation.
“I could use sleep in a real bed,” he commented. “Dare we try to sleep for a couple of hours?”
“You’ve got my vote,” Lloyd seconded, coming to life. He withdrew his pipe, stifling a yawn.
Adrian roused himself as well.
“I suppose we should give a shot at interpreting these journals first,” he advised. He swallowed down his own yawn and dropped his feet to the carpeted floor. Idly, he pushed the sheaths of paper back and forth with his fingers. “We’ve each read the journals, so what do we know?”
Neither man across from him ventured a guess and Adrian realized everyone was waiting for someone else to speculate first. Finally, with a resigned sigh, Lloyd rose from his chair and crossed to the fireplace. There he tapped the pipe stem against the palm of his hand, then deposited the ash into the glowing embers. Pocketing the stem, he sat again, his glance meeting Adrian’s.
“They set sail from France in the spring,” he began, “expecting to arrive in the Americas in late summer. Captain Enoch Waters was in charge, Lieutenant James Arthur, his first mate … ” Lloyd broke off suddenly, his glance moving past Adrian’s shoulder.
Hearing movement behind him, Adrian swung about and spied the women. Muriel came first, dropping onto the couch alongside Jasper, who laced his fingers within hers in welcome. Adrian greeted Ginger with a brief shift along the couch and a swift pat of the cushions alongside him. Bringing up the rear, Janice propped herself on the arm of Lloyd’s wingback and Adrian saw her give their host’s arm an affectionate squeeze.
The women took one look at the closed journals on the coffee table, waiting for an update. When no one took up the tale, Janice piped up curiously.
“What have you found?”
“More than we bargained for,” Adrian drawled. “Go ahead, Lloyd.”
Lloyd leaned forward, flipping the closed journal open once more. He tapped a page.
“The passenger list consisted of Lisette; her abigail, the Lady LaCoer; and a cousin the captain refers to as Simone Villashay, most likely Lisette’s best friend. The baron’s younger brother, Chase, was also a passenger. His destination was New York City, though why he was going there isn’t stipulated anywhere.”
Lloyd fell silent and Jasper took up the tale.
“We know the voyage was good at the start. Captain Waters writes so. However, a month into the voyage the weather turned nasty. The ship spent three additional weeks skirting the storm.” Jasper leaned forward and flipped through the journal, never losing his train of thought. “It’s obvious Waters and young Chase became enemies early in the voyage. At least eighty percent of the captain’s log entries refer to the boy as ‘that deviant bastard,’” Jasper paused in his riffling to give the group a speculative glance. “I suppose if the boy was a mental case, he might be our third spirit with the hideous laugh.”
Adrian nodded and leaned over the journal, following Jasper’s current train of thought.
“Waters also makes reference to ‘the rutting rake,’ though we can’t be sure if that’s the first mate Arthur or for young Dumas,” Adrian added. “A trip of that length must’ve been hard on the balls … ” He broke off, realizing the women were present. “Sorry. It’s hard to imagine any of the men aboard remaining celibate for the entire voyage. They had to have craved sex with Lisette.”
“Or the abigail,” Jasper countered. “The captain describes her as … “ he paused and leaned over an ear-marked page. “‘a well-put together widow, with ample breasts.’” Jasper looked once more at Adrian and then the women. “Our captain seems a trifle deviant himself. Perhaps he lusted after the fair Lisette, too.”
“Not exactly a lunch bucket type of crowd,” Adrian agreed. He continued the tale this time. “They arrived in late September, minus young Chase. The baron was in Philadelphia when the ship anchored, so Waters deposited the girls in a coach-and-four sent from Witchwood. The captain ends his log entries with a final cryptic entry.” Adrian flipped to the end of the journal and read aloud. “‘Tis well rid of the scurvy lot, I am. God take the whoremonger and his whore. May their souls burn in the everlasting pits of Hades.’” Adrian looked up from the pages. “Anyone care to hazard a guess about that wretched curse?”
Jasper shook his head, clearly stumped. Muriel offered the only comment.
“It could’ve been any pairing. The boy, the cousin, the abigail, the first mate … ” She leaned back with a frustrated groan and Adrian knew the feeling. They were going to waste precious hours piecing together what had occurred once the passengers had departed the ship. Lisette’s diary had shed no light on the matter. Once the ship docked, the entries in her diary were relatively scarce.
Leaning back, Adrian gave a half-smile.
“More and more, it looks as though the murder was a crime of passion.”
“Any mention of ages?” Janice asked, curiously.
Adrian reached out and tossed Lisette’s diary to her. She caught it deftly and her fingers thumbed through it casually as he answered her question.
“We know Lisette was eighteen. It appears the other women were in their early twenties. We suspect the first mate was also in his twenties. The brother was possibly fourteen or fifteen.”
“Sixteen,” Janice interjected swiftly. “He was cloddish, suffered with a hare-lip.” At her pronouncement, every head swirled about, impaling her with direct stares. Her eyes lifted in surprise. “I don’t know how I knew that,” she stuttered. She followed the confession with a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Just an intuitive flash, nothing more.” She tossed the diary back to the coffee table obviously, confused by the momentary insight. Lloyd must’ve sensed her discomfort too, because he captured her fingers and squeezed them with a small shake. Adrian saw her flash him a brief smile and then she turn
ed her attention to the group once more.
“If the baron’s brother was only sixteen,” Jasper continued aloud, “why wasn’t he accompanied by a man servant and why was his destination New York instead of Witchwood?”
“Perhaps he stowed away,” Ginger guessed. “A boy that age might long for a sea adventure, especially if he suffered from low self-esteem.”
“Very intuitive, Ginger,” Jasper applauded. “But there’s no mention of the word stowaway, just ‘deviant bastard.’”
“You’re sure the phrase was meant for him?” Muriel asked, swinging about. “Deviant bastard brings to mind a rather older rake. One who’s had some years to build a naughty reputation.” She hesitated. “I suppose boys became notorious rakes early in those days. He might’ve been a hellion.”
Adrian gave the papers in front of him an impatient shove.
“Guessing, that’s all we doing. We’re no further along than we were an hour ago. And at the rate we’re going … ” he left the sentence unfinished.
“Let me solve the problem,” Muriel offered. “Let me channel one of the passengers. We know what questions to ask now, so let’s ask them.”
Jasper clamped Muriel’s arm, a frown surfacing on his brow.
“No. Until we learn which of them owns that hideous laugh we heard an hour ago, I don’t want you channeling. If our friend is the baron’s brother, he intends harm. And you will be especially vulnerable as the channeler. I won’t risk your life in such a slip-shod fashion and I won’t let anyone else do it either!” His look to the rest of the group spoke volumes and an uncomfortable silence descended among them.
“We’ll sleep on it,” Adrian finally stated. He saw Jasper’s dark glare and ignored it.
“Is it safe to sleep?” Ginger asked, slipping her arm through Adrian’s while trying to suppress a shiver. Adrian sighed loudly.
“Safe or not, we’re going to. We all look like hell. Sleep is the cure. We’ll sleep in pairs though. Jasper, you and Muriel take the west bedroom.” He dipped his head left then right. “Lloyd, you and Janice, the east bedroom. Ginger and I will make do on the couches here.” The group rose at the command and started toward their designated areas. “Move the beds as close to the doorways as you can,” Adrian called to their backs. “That way, we’ll be within earshot of each other. Remember, if you feel dizzy or strange or sense anything out of the ordinary, shout out!”
The group disappeared from view. Seconds later, Adrian heard a vitriolic curse, followed by Janice’s bubbling laughter. Looking over, he saw the outline of a huge canopy close in on the doorway. Looking left, another silhouette appeared in the west bedroom doorway. Satisfied the group was taking his advice, he swung his own couch to a ninety degree angle alongside Ginger’s to ensure he could see both doorways. Lloyd re-entered the room, blankets in hand.
“The room should stay warm for a couple of hours at least but here’s covers just in case.” He tossed a pink blanket to Ginger, who snuggled under it gratefully. Pivoting, Lloyd tossed the remaining blanket his way. Adrian caught it and settled quickly into the cushions. He didn’t know if sleep were possible but at least he’d give his body a rest. What his mind chose to do was its own business.
Rolling the blanket in a ball, he tucked it beneath his head. Nearby, he heard a shifting motion and the room went dark around him. A tired sigh told Adrian that Ginger was falling off to sleep in rapid fashion.
Stretching out full along the couch, he listened to the settling quiet and closed his eyes. Blessed sleep. He needed it badly. Soon, the only sound he heard was the occasional snap of wood chips in the fireplace. Muscles relaxing, he let his mind drift into a thin veil of half-sleep.
Chapter 17
SATURDAY — 3:15 AM
Through a distant grayness, Janice heard a frightened shout. At first she ignored it, continuing to float along in her dreamless state. Then it hit her — someone was in trouble. She came awake with a start, her eyelids flying open with alarm. Someone was calling, needed her help. Rolling over, she oriented herself to the room and squinted into the surrounding darkness. She searched the shadows for an identifiable shape. Who had called for her help? Lloyd?
Propping herself on her elbow, Janice located his shadowy form. A light, continuous snore assailed her ears, and she realized he was dead to the world. Had he called out in his sleep? Not likely.
Rolling back around, Janice slid to the edge of the bed and hung out over it. Was it Muriel? Blinking rapidly again, she adjusted her eyes to the gloominess of the interior living room. Across the way, she could just make out two dim silhouettes and a bed. The Grisombs appeared to be soundly asleep, too. Adrian?
She swung her head, locating the angled couch. He was sprawled out, and like the others, appeared to be in no difficulty. Still, she couldn’t shake the nagging notion something was wrong. Something odd was beginning and it was nearby. It was up to her to check it out. None of the others seemed to sense it.
Swinging up, she slid from the bed and tiptoed into the darkened living room. The room’s iciness hit her full blast. Damn! Of all the times for the fire to go out. She cast a glance toward the fireplace and froze. The wood chips were burning as bright as ever. The hairs on her arm prickled suddenly and she knew instinctively she was not standing alone in the darkness. Light, Janice. Turn on the light, she urged herself. She whirled on point then skidded to a stop. Wake someone. You need a witness. She was at the angled couches in three seconds flat, bending down and calling Adrian’s name.
He came full awake, even as her whisper left her lips. His face loomed close to hers and Janice was taken back at his alertness.
“What is it?” he whispered.
His breath fanned her cheeks and there was a gentle softness in his tone.
“The room’s cold.”
“The fire’s gone out,” he commented, as if the answer was obvious.
“No, it hasn’t.”
He came up rapidly, not bothering to check over his shoulder, and Janice could’ve kissed him for believing her without question. Did he know how endearing that made him to her at the moment? She pushed the thought away as she found her fingers clenched tightly. In the next instance, she was trailing behind him in the dark, heading for the light switch on the far wall. Once there, Adrian snapped the light on. Around them, the room filled with light and its sudden, shocking glare brought the sleeping couple in the west bedroom off the bed in a hurry and on to their feet.
“What is it?” Jasper asked, circling the bed and stepping into the living room. His gaze darted about, seeking answers.
Janice and Adrian did the same, swiveling their heads in search of their unknown intruder. And there was an intruder. Janice was sure of it now. The hairs on her neck had joined the ones on her arm in a stand-up salute.
“Fuck!”
Adrian’s muffled oath sent Janice’s stomach into a dizzy flip-flop and above her ribs, her heart began a clumsy foot race with her lungs. The hand holding hers trembled then jerked, and Janice followed Adrian’s gaze upward.
Oh, shit.
From the ceiling directly above Ginger’s sleeping form, a white mist was showering down droplets. Reacting, Janice made a movement to warn Ginger and found herself hauled back roughly.
“Don’t be an idiot!” Adrian barked. “It’s our fiendish friend.”
Janice wondered how he could identify anything from only a white mist. She got her answer immediately. A familiar stench rolled over them, and above them, the mist turned into a haze of shimmering purple lights. It laced itself down and stretched lengthwise over Ginger’s prone form.
“Do something, Adrian,” Janice whispered.
As the words left her lips, Ginger stirred on the couch, sensing the light and voices. Her eyes popped open. She didn’t see the cloud of lights at first, her gaze searching for Adrian on the compan
ion couch. Not finding him there, her glance swiveled right and left, the first sign of apprehension appearing on her face. And then she glanced up. Absolute terror erased all other emotions, and Janice didn’t know what kept Ginger from screaming. The sparkling mist was descending now, stalking her form, as if aware she was about to bolt.
“Ad … ri … an!”
Her voice squeaked the last syllable. Ginger was working to be brave on the outside, but her stutter was a dead giveaway that she was frightened beyond belief. The cloud sagged suddenly and Ginger slid from the couch, seeking refuge against the side wall.
It was a good try at escape, and any other day, it might have worked. But the cloud had anticipated her flight and followed immediately, stalking her cowering figure and galvanizing Janice into action. Tearing at Adrian’s fingers, Janice attempted to pry her wrist loose.
“Let go, Adrian.”
“God damn it, Janice, be still! She’ll be all right.”
As if to mock Adrian, the mist ballooned out, encircling Ginger and cocooning her with its sparkling form. The swift attack galvanized the men forward in one fell swoop. Anticipating their approach and suddenly angered by it, the cloud billowed upward, transforming part of itself into a new shape. When it was finished, it resembled a misty octopus with shimmering ionized tentacles that hung high over the couch. The tube-like pincers sprayed outward toward the approaching men as if to rend them apart. The air sizzled around their heads like the crack of whip meeting flesh, and Janice quaked uncontrollably. In front of her, Adrian and Jasper ducked under the spray of electricity, just barely managing to dodge its stinger.
The spirit was furious with their show of bravado, had every intention of punishing them for their audacity. Falling back, the men crowded into the women, forming a protective shield against the tentacle of light. Seeing the maneuver, the cloud doubled its show of force. Two more tentacles snaked upward, releasing a menacing hiss from somewhere in its central core. The sound chilled Janice’s soul as she clutched Adrian’s shirt back, ready to solder herself to it. The hiss continued like a steam boiler about to burst which unnerved the men as well, Janice realized when she heard Lloyd’s shaky curse.
