Moonshadows

by Mary Ann Artrip

Fortified with a strange new courage, she stepped forward and reached for the door. Fear like a deadly stalker prowled through the network of blood and muscle and nerve systems that made up her body. Her heart quickened as she turned the knob and stepped into the dark chamber. At first she could make out only the bulky outlines of the massive furniture as she glanced around the room. When her eyes became accustomed to the dimness they came to rest upon the huge four-poster bed. A faint outline of a body humped beneath the pile of covers.

  “Who are you?” Janet’s voice was controlled by a measure of reasonableness that she didn’t feel. “What do you want?”

  Resentment bubbled up and spilled over for this intruder who had invaded the privacy of her grandmother’s room.

  Janet held the candle higher for a clearer look and crept closer. Light fell across the backside of the figure beneath the covers.

  “How dare you lie in my grandmother’s bed?”

  Janet’s anger overcame her fear and she forgot to be frightened.

  “Your grandmother?” the voice hissed from a face still hidden in the shadows. “Your beloved grandmother?” Slowly, deliberately, the figure turned. “What was so holy about your grandmother that the sanctity of her precious domain not be violated?” The voice rasped from a mouth contorted with hate.

  “Miss Austin!” Janet fell back a step. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t you know, you silly girl?” Amanda Austin sat up in the center of the bed. “Don’t you really know?”

  Janet shook her head, finding it difficult to believe the scene unfolding before her eyes.

  “Miss Austin,” she stammered. “For pity’s sake, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Don’t call me Miss Austin, you stupid girl. The name’s Isabella—Isabella Lancaster.”

  “No,” Janet said. “I would’ve known.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Surely I would have known.”

  “You’re too foolish to know anything. Too trusting. But now the time’s finally come, and I have every right to be in the place of my ancestors. The place I had to give up when I was sent away.”

  The woman leaned forward and pushed her face into the circle of candlelight. Her glazed eyes looked frosted and as dangerous as a rattlesnake, coiled and cunning and waiting for the right moment to strike.

  “Don’t hold your breath you stupid girl, if you think this place will ever be yours.”

  She threw her head back and cackled.

  She really is a witch, Janet thought.

  “This!” Isabella shrieked and swept an arm around to encompass the room. “All of this is mine. All of it—do you hear me? Mine! What gives you the right to lay claim to any part of it?”

  “But surely I’m entitled to some small—”

  Isabella snarled and bared her teeth.

  “You’ve already got more than you were entitled to. Now hear me and hear me good—not another penny. I promise you on the grave of my sainted father, not another cent. Let me clue you in to the truth—the real truth—little Miss Prissy. You’re not even a Lancaster.”

  Janet’s hand smothered her mouth to hold back words of disbelief.

  “I see your precious grandmother—the one you thought so righteous—didn’t tell you.” She smirked. “Well, allow me to enlighten you, Miss Whoever-you-are. You’re a commoner, a foundling taken from an orphanage before you were even a month old.” Her lips sneered with disgust and cruelty. “So you see Missy, you’re not—I repeat not—a Lancaster.” Her chin inched upward, haughty and proud. Her chest swelled. “Not a single drop of Lancaster blood flows through your stupid veins, yet you have the unmitigated gall to stand there and tell me you’re entitled to any of this.”

  “But you didn’t want—”

  “Never mind what I did, or did not, want,” she hissed. “You don’t know what happened. Nobody knew but me and my father.” Her mouth twisted into a vile grin. “Oh he didn’t love the noble-minded Elizabeth. And he didn’t love my mealy-mouthed brother.” She struck her chest. “He loved me. Only me.”

  Janet wanted to speak but was mute.

  “When I couldn’t be the perfect daughter, he’d let me know what a disappointment I was to him. So I really disappointed him when I got myself pregnant. He would’ve come around if it hadn’t been for Elizabeth the Great working against my interest.”

  Isabella jerked back her shoulders.

  “I laughed in his face when he demanded to know who the father was.” She sneered. “Oh, I knew all right, but when I wouldn’t tell him that only proved how much he loved me.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You see, that was the only reason he sent me away—because he loved me.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I don’t have to make sense, I’m a Lancaster.”

  Janet shook her head. “Who’s Amanda Austin?”

  “The first name I saw in a phone book after I left this place.” Her laugh was brittle and she seemed grandly amused with herself. “And after many years I came back here and nobody recognized me, not even after I took the job at the library.” She rubbed her forehead as if it ached. “But changing a name can’t change blood. I’m still a Lancaster.”

  Her voice caressed the name like a title of honor.

  “But why stay away so many years?”

  “I had to wait until Her Royal Majesty died and no one was left but me. I had to bide my time, you stupid girl, bide my time and plan for my son. Oh it may have been too late for me, I’d already been disinherited, but I knew some day I’d get even.”

  “Miss—Aunt Isabella, couldn’t we be friends? Be a family?”

  “Friends! Family! With a street urchin? Don’t make me laugh.” She slapped the air. “And don’t you dare—don’t you ever let that word cross your lips again. You’re not worthy to call me Aunt Isabella.”

  Suddenly her head snapped forward and she was on her knees in the center of the bed, her hands buried in the covers. She glowered at Janet with wild and fevered eyes.

  “You may legally be an heir,” she said. “But Etienne will be the one to survive.” She twisted around in the bed and started toward the edge. A slight fanning of the breeze caused the candle in Janet’s hand to flicker and reflect a beam of light off the keen-edged knife she brought up from beneath the covers.

  “You’re insane,” Janet whispered, inching toward the door.

  A prickly growl escaped Isabella’s taut lips as she sprang from the bed, her arm upraised and poised. Her furious state of mind was beyond the power of reasoning and she tripped in the hem of the heavy bedspread and pitched forward.

  Janet whipped around and the candle flickered out, throwing the room into a blanket of blackness. Behind her, she could hear Isabella struggling to free herself of her confinement.

  Janet groped for the boxy brass key that always hung in the door lock. With her mind focused entirely on survival, she looped a cautious finger through the ring and pulled. In an effort to hurry, the key jammed in the opening. A string of curses continued to be hurled across the room. Janet’s frantic prayer was answered when the key popped free from the lock and she was through the door in a flash, yanking it shut behind her. She held the knob, grasping it in a damp palm. On the other side, Isabella had reached the door and Janet could feel the knob twist beneath her hand. Jabbing the key into the lock from the outside of the room, she finally got it to turn and the bolt shot into place.

  “Stupid girl!” Isabella shrieked from inside the room. “You’ll not get away, you stupid girl!”

  Encased in darkness, Janet felt along the wall and edged her way toward the stairs. Blood scorched through her veins, causing her ears to roar like a waterfall after a violent storm.

  Pausing momentarily and forcing herself to take a deep breath, she oriented herself to her exact location. When her hand struck the banister, she knew she was at the top of the staircase. Creeping slowly in the blackness, she carefully placed one foot down and then the other. As she neared the bottom, Janet heard
a sound coming from the study. Keep calm, she cautioned herself. She felt the end of the railing and knew she had reached the floor of the salon. Turning left toward the front door, she could already taste the fresh outside air and feel its briskness soothe her parched throat.

  “Janet.” A voice cut across the wide room. She halted in mid-step, her mind reeling. “Janet.” Her name was repeated and Janet recognized Stephen’s voice.

  “Stephen?”

  “I can’t believe you came,” he said and laughed. “Even after you broke into my apartment and found what you were looking for, you still came.”

  Janet strained her eyes in the direction of the voice. Oh Lord, she thought. I’ve let him lure me up here when in my heart I knew better. Soundlessly she edged her way across the floor and toward the front door. She had taken no more than a couple of steps when a hand grazed her shoulder. She spun toward the touch and opened her mouth to scream.

  “Janet.”

  Yet another voice, soft and comforting. The voice of a friend.

  “Sebastian?” Janet’s mind raced to sort out and piece together again names and faces. “What are you doing here? Did you find my note?”

  “I can’t believe you actually came up here alone,” he said. “What a dumb thing to do.”

  Janet gave a short laugh. “I know that now.”

  Sebastian breathed close to her ear. “I thought I heard Stephen’s voice.”

  “You did, Sebastian. He’s somewhere in the house. We have to get out of here.”

  “Why? Do you think he would hurt you?”

  Janet clutched Sebastian’s arm.

  “He’s not Stephen. He’s Etienne—Cousin Etienne. And Miss Austin’s not Amanda, she’s—she’s Isabella.” Her hands fluttered toward the stairs. “Etienne’s mother. Oh God, none of this makes any sense. We’ve got to get out of here. Stephen’s trying to kill me.”

  Sebastian wrapped a protective arm around Janet’s shoulders.

  “You can explain it all to me later,” he said, urging her in the direction of the rear of the house. “Let’s go this way, he may be waiting near the front door.”

  Grateful that she was no longer alone, Janet allowed herself to be propelled through the darkened house and out the back door. Like tatted lace, a heavy mist shrouded the courtyard and traced ghostly patterns of moonshadows from a sliver of platinum moon creeping slowly from behind a layer of clouds. Janet thought again of the blue moon and its omen. But how could she be in danger now when she had Sebastian to protect her? She breathed the thick milky air and felt lightheaded and unstable.

  “We’ll have to hide until he gets tired of looking for you and leaves.” Sebastian’s voice guided her. “The tower. That’s where we’ll go.”

  A warning streaked across Janet’s brain. She shook it away and held fast to the hand of her friend—the only friend, she feared, she would find this night.

  EIGHTEEN

  Sebastian tugged at Janet and dragged her beneath the overhanging vines of the grape arbor. The grip of his hand cut into her fingers. Buried, too far back in her mind to sort out the confusion, was a primal sense of immediate danger. It nudged and nipped around the edges of her ability to reason. Something is wrong, a small voice inside her head warned, but she clung to Sebastian’s hand like a drowning child.

  They reached the door of the tower. Sebastian yanked it open and pulled Janet inside.

  “We’ll be safe here,” he promised.

  Exhausted, Janet dropped to the earthen floor and buried her head in her hands. The warning bell in her mind continued to clang. Louder. Louder.

  “When you were upstairs in the bedroom, Janet, what happened with Amanda—Isabella?”

  “I locked her in my grandmother’s bedroom.”

  Janet dropped her hands to her lap and strained her eyes upward. Through the windows located high on the tower walls, pewter-streaked shadows streamed down the center of the structure. Janet shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

  “All these years I’ve worked with her, I knew she didn’t like me but I could never understand why. My aunt,” she said with amazement. “Imagine that. She was my aunt and never gave a sign.”

  “Listen!” Sebastian snapped. “Hear that? Someone’s coming.” He urged Janet to her feet. “Let’s get up the stairs. We’ll be safe there.”

  Janet pulled back. “It’s dangerous.”

  “It’s more dangerous down here. At least up there we have the advantage. We can track his movements.”

  Janet, still numb from all that had happened, followed along to the foot of the stairs.

  “Come on,” Sebastian encouraged. “We’ll be careful.”

  Slowly the two climbed the creaking stairs. As they rose higher and higher, the lingering fog fingered though the upper reaches of the tower. Janet could feel the aged wood give beneath her feet and tried to step lightly.

  “Oh Sebastian,” she whispered, “it was awful. I don’t know who anybody is anymore.”

  “Things will look different in the daylight,” he consoled. “Even if you’re not a Lancaster, who gives a hoot. By tomorrow all this will seem far away.”

  Clang. Clang. The alarm inside Janet’s head caused her to stumble. At the moment she was safe from Stephen. Why then did she still feel so threatened?

  “Here now,” Sebastian said as they reached the platform at the top. “Don’t you feel better already?”

  Janet felt in more danger than ever. The events of the last hour had left her muddle-headed. She steadied herself against the stair railing. It yielded beneath her touch. The timbers were old and decayed and would crumble easily. She inched away from the top of the stairs and pushed her back against the stone wall. Sebastian reached for her hand to pull her toward the center.

  “Janet-Janet-Janet.” His voice had a singsong quality. “Don’t be such a silly girl.” He gave a chuckle. “We’re perfectly safe here.”

  He sat down and dangled his legs over the edge, reminding her of a willful child.

  Like a kaleidoscope that had been spinning out of control, the irregular pieces started clicking into place and forming a pattern, making some sense of the confusion that had been gouging her brain.

  “Sebastian,” she said, pressing into the stone wall behind her. How did you know that I wasn’t a Lancaster?” She kept her voice soft and even?”

  “Why you told me, Janet. You told me when we first met that you’d been adopted.” Sebastian sounded patronizing. “Don’t you remember?”

  “I couldn’t have,” she said. “Because I didn’t know myself until tonight. I ask you again Sebastian, how did you know?”

  In the mist, Janet could see him shake his head.

  “Well it’s not important,” he insisted. He stretched out his hand. “Here, come sit beside me. We’re going to have to wait Stephen out and it may take a while before he gives up and goes away. I’ve always had the opinion he’s rather stubborn.”

  “What makes you think that? Did you ever meet him?”

  Sebastian shrugged his slight shoulders.

  “You know how you get a feeling about a person.” He pointed at her. “Take you, for example. Now I never thought you were stubborn, just maybe a little on the simple side.” He laughed. “Not in a bad way, mind you. On you, I think it’s kind of endearing—as long as you don’t carry it too far. But then we can’t all be Einsteins, now can we?” He motioned again. “Come on over and sit beside me and tell me about yourself.”

  With a sense of danger surrounding her, Janet assumed a casual attitude. She placed her hands on her hips and flexed her back.

  “I’ll stand.”

  With a motion of indifference, she pulled one leg up and braced her foot against the wall.

  “Have you ever been here to Heather Down before tonight, Sebastian?”

  He gave a hearty laugh. “I hardly think so. This is your birthright, remember?”

  “But you were able to find your way through the house, even in the dark, and back here
to the tower without any help from me. How could you do that if you’d never been here before?”

  Sebastian slowly got to his feet and sidled in Janet’s direction.

  “Just instinct I guess,” he said and reached out, touching her arm.

  “It had to be more than that.” Janet jerked away and pressed tighter into the wall. “You’ve been here before.”

  “Janet, calm yourself,” he said, moving casually to stand beside her. “You’re getting upset over nothing.”

  “Who are you, Sebastian? Where did you come from?”

  “From New York, you know that. Now quit being a silly girl and come away from that wall.”

  She could feel the prickle of his breath against her skin.

  “Don’t touch me.” Janet’s arm flew out and pushed him away. “I’m going home. I’m going back down those stairs, get in my car, and drive away.”

  “What about Stephen? He’s still down there.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Janet said, easing toward the stairway.

  Sebastian grabbed for her arm, catching a piece of her coat. “No!” He shook his head and the copper locks glistened in the heavy mist. “I won’t let you leave.”

  Janet whirled around, breaking his hold. “You won’t let me? You don’t have a vote on the decision.” Her voice was firm. “Besides, I’m not so sure you and Stephen—or Etienne, or whatever the hell his name is—aren’t in this little game together. Did he recruit you, Sebastian? What did he promise you to help get rid of me?”

  Sebastian laughed.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Janet said. “I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”

  As she turned to walk away, Sebastian’s hands closed in around her throat and jerked her backward toward the center of the platform.

  “You’re leaving, all right,” he hissed against her ear. “But not by the stairs.”

  The pressure increased against her windpipe and the room starting spinning as Janet felt her brain begin to shut down. She clawed at the hands crushing the bones in her throat. Explosions flashed behind her eyeballs, Roman candles with brilliant red and green shooting stars.