None of it made sense but one thing was perfectly clear—she couldn’t leave Tullamore fast enough.
Ho-hum, now what? Another shower or movie while waiting for her ghost lover?
“Geez.” She giggled again. Whatever he was, she’d play along until Saturday—that’s if he came back. Then she’d fly home and never return.
Why hadn’t she borrowed a couple of romance books from the library? Reading would put this lag time to good use. She’d been an avid reader as a child and teenager, but when she’d started college she had no time for leisure reading. If she didn’t find something to occupy the wait period now, though, she’d go stir-crazy.
She sighed and rolled off the bed then tugged on the booty slippers for a quick jaunt downstairs to borrow a book. Rather than lug her purse along, she removed proper identification from her wallet and stuffed it inside her bra. Just as she opened the door a gust of cool air blasted her face and a dark mist hovered a foot away from her body.
A scream froze in her throat.
“Dungeon.”
Her eyes nearly burst from their sockets as the haze lowered to the floor and slithered toward the stairwell exit at the end of the hall.
Now that’s a ghost! She slammed the door shut and fell against the back side, releasing the breaths she hadn’t realized she’d held.
Seriously, how much could her heart take?
She took a small step into the room, patting her chest to soothe her heartbeat, and just then someone knocked. Death?
She gasped and glanced over her shoulder. Hell, ghosts don’t knock.
She peeked through the peephole. Niall stood with a hand propped on the frame and the other stuffed inside his front pants pocket. Ghosts do knock.
Another case of distress and here he is. But she was all about unconsciously summoning him to her room during periods of desperation if that’s what it took. An instant of calm washed through her and her heart sputtered.
After inhaling a soothing breath, she tucked the hair behind her ears and pulled the door open. Narrowed lids and a bright, devious smile greeted her.
“Hello, love.”
She flew into his arms and kissed him with so much passion her toes curled. And if someone stepped into the hall right now, she’d look pretty ridiculous, posed in an embrace and sucking face with air.
“I missed you too, Shanna,” he whispered behind her lips while pulling her lower body snug against his erection.
Ah, the erection. It felt just as wonderful slamming her insides when she couldn’t see it as it had when she could. How could she explain that, having had the chance to experience it in both realms? If he was just a figment, wouldn’t she see it all the time? Good grief. She needed to quit being so analytical and accept him as is. Whatever that was. And he obviously wasn’t imaginary, otherwise Áine, Mary and Katie wouldn’t have seen him too.
Why couldn’t she just forget about it for the time being? Whatever she concluded wouldn’t change the present situation anyhow.
He was here now, grinding his cock against her abdomen, and the power and hardness rocked her insides. And as desperately as she wanted to make love to him, she couldn’t for fear of him disappearing for another undisclosed amount of time. She needed him now. For emotional stability. Strength. And to protect her from the boogeyman. Despite the yearning to hold on to him forever, she released his lips and inhaled a deep breath. “Why’d you knock? Why not just appear?”
“I didn’t want to startle you. I saw the shadow near your room and realized you were probably already frightened.”
“So you did you see it?”
“Yes. It’s Sir Henry Chichester.”
“Who’s he?”
“The prior owner of Tullamore.”
“Well, he seems determined to talk to me.” Or scare me senseless.
Niall stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “He speaks to you?”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded. “Not like you and I communicate. He shouts words at me. Like attic and murder and he waits.”
“I believe he’s trying to tell you something.”
“Yeah, to pack my bags and get out.”
Niall re-tucked a chunk of hair behind her left ear. “If he wanted you out, I guarantee you’d be gone.”
“I’ve been trying to go, but things haven’t been in my favor lately.”
“You’re here for a reason, love. You must realize that by now?”
Yeah, because she had really crappy luck and couldn’t find a way out until a short while ago. She shrugged while she walked across the room and sat down on the bed. “Lately he’s had an obsession with the word dungeon. Does this place even have one?”
“Unfortunately all castles do.”
“Why doesn’t he pick on someone else? Why me? The hotel is full of guests. He can choose anyone he wants.”
“But he obviously wants you. I suppose we need to figure out why.”
“How about I go home to Ohio and you figure it out? When you discover what he wants, call me.” In no way could Niall or anyone else convince her to take a trip to the dungeon, if that’s what Sir Henry was suggesting. Submerging her head in the pond and bobbing for pennies was one thing, but willingly visiting a spooky chamber via a ghostly invitation—uh-uh, not happening.
Dungeon. Murder. Attic. Sir Henry certainly had a drab vocabulary. Instead of walking into that death trap, she’d rather grab a noose and hang herself in the room. Dungeon and murder went hand in hand in her book, and being the type of woman who took pride in utilizing common sense, she preferred to avoid all torturous activity.
Seriously, like she’d practiced any modicum of common sense lately. If she had she wouldn’t be sitting here talking to a ghost. Lordy.
“Shanna, I won’t let anything hurt you.”
So technically, from a normal person’s visual standpoint, she’d be walking alone into the creepy depths of the castle in search of, what? Sorry, not worth the risk. “Niall, I can’t. I’ll do anything else you ask but I refuse to set one foot in the dungeon. Sir Henry has no reason to guide me there. What’s he going to do, get mad if I don’t go?”
“I’d rather not discuss his capabilities.”
She gulped and felt the color drain from her face. “Why not?”
“He was a very persistent man who always got what he wanted. Even in death, I cannot fathom his reaction if he’s denied anything.”
That wasn’t a very reassuring explanation. Were these two phantoms in cahoots? “Suppose I remove myself from the situation and stay at a different hotel until my flight leaves on Saturday?”
Niall’s brows furrowed. “You made reservations to fly home?”
“I did.” She nodded and looked away as his expression turned solemn.
“Suppose he follows you and makes your life a living hell?”
Chills raced down her spine. “Did you really have to say that?”
“I’m not trying to scare you. Spirits often attach themselves to mortals and travel with them wherever they go. If you leave without granting his wishes, who knows what may happen? Would you prefer a life of unrest over a quick visit to the attic or dungeon?”
Well, putting it that way. “Neither.” She shivered and hugged herself. “But if given a choice, I’d take the attic. How do we get there?”
“That’s the problem.”
“Now what?”
“There’s only one way.”
Shanna swore he paled despite his ghostly presence. “Well, are you going to tell me?”
For an agonizing moment, he studied her. “The old lift.”
Not the eerie, antiquated machine! The subject went from bad to worse. Her mouth dropped. She snapped it shut and jumped off the bed. “Can’t you float up there or something? Why do I need to go?”
“I’m not thrilled about it either. That lift scares the fuck out of me.”
Her eyes widened. “It does?”
“It dropped to the basement leve
l and crushed me to death.”
Her tummy tightened as she carefully assessed his body from head to toe.
“Shanna, it’s how I died before my time. They say Bridget Chichester’s spirit sabotaged the lift to kill her mother. Theoretically I died in Lady Chichester’s place. I was in the basement beneath the shaft putting garden tools away when the cables snapped and it dropped.”
How horrific. To even imagine what he’d suffered—it made her physically ill. And the only way to dismiss the visuals was to change the subject. “Does Bridget reside in the hotel as well?” The thought gave her goose bumps.
“No. She sneaks in at times but Sir Henry chases her away. He doesn’t permit her evil spirit inside the castle.”
Suppose the lift was destined to cause more deaths? Not a good assumption since they appeared to be headed there. The dungeon was beginning to look like a royal palace. “And you see these interactions between them?”
“I’ve seen a few.”
“Do they ever communicate with you?”
Niall shook his head. “Never. Henry tends to avoid me, and Bridget either hasn’t tried or she can’t get to me before he runs her out.”
“Let’s send Áine up there. After all, it’s her haunted hotel.”
“If I could, I would, but it’s you he wants.”
Yeah, that appeared to be the first problem. The second—why had he chosen her? Ugh. Back to square one. “Well, if we’re going to do this, let’s go. If I’m fated to die before dinner, I only have two hours.”
He neared, pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. “Ah, love, unless it’s guaranteed we’d be joined in death, I won’t let that happen.”
How enlightening. “You have to promise me something.”
He gave her a tight squeeze. “Anything.”
“When we’re on our way, don’t touch me and don’t talk to me if people are around. I’d like to savor some dignity while walking to my death.”
“It’s no wonder I love you, Shanna,” he said through a slight chuckle.
He hadn’t just said what she thought he’d said. Love? How could a ghost feel emotion? Although he did seem to enjoy having sex. Cripes. When this was all said and done she was committing herself to a psych ward. No ifs, ands or buts about it. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“You stole my heart a year ago.”
“How? I don’t get it, Niall.”
“I’d spent the entire week in your room, sitting on the corner chair. When Derek proposed to you I died again. I knew he wasn’t the appropriate man for you but I didn’t know how to prove it at the time.”
She blinked and her cheeks heated. “You saw everything?”
He smiled a devilish grin. “Everything.”
“Everything,” she squeaked.
“Yes. My blood burned when he fucked you. You escaped me once, love, and I vowed if you returned, you wouldn’t leave Ireland a second time without me making love to you. I’m sorry for frightening you.” He lifted her chin. “I never realized I could ever love again. Shanna, you fill me with a sense of mortality. When I’m with you, I feel whole and made of flesh and blood. I need you in my life.”
“I think you’re using me to occupy your time.”
“No, Shanna. A lot of women have come and gone at Tullamore but not one has ever affected me as you have. None had the ability to draw out my solid form. They couldn’t touch me, nor could I touch them. That stands for something.”
She stared at the floor while allowing his outlandish words to sink into her brain. “How long have you been dead?” That was definitely the silliest question she’d ever asked. It didn’t even sound right. Oh brother.
“I died in 1905. I was twenty-five years old. But I’ve learned so much from observation over the years, I feel as if I fit in with the modern changes.”
Over a hundred years ago? “Tell me about your prior love.”
He took a deep breath and smiled. The love for that woman shined brightly in his eyes and it warmed Shanna’s heart.
“Abigail was her name. She was so beautiful and innocent.” His smile faded. “I intended to ask for her hand in marriage the night Bridget Chichester pushed her off a cliff to her death.”
Shanna gasped. “Oh my God, Niall, I’m so sorry.”
“Abigail fell to the rocky shore, but before I could reach her, the tumultuous waves had swallowed her and dragged her out to sea.”
Shanna slapped a hand over her mouth then lowered it slowly. “What happened to Bridget?”
“Nothing,” he stated, his voice edgy. “Her father’s status bought her freedom. But Abigail’s brother, Rory, needed justice and refused to let Bridget go unpunished. He hung her in the Bás Woods.”
Shanna gulped, recalling the female laughter she’d heard in those woods. “And?”
“Sir Henry ordered Rory’s death by a public beheading.”
Stepping out of Niall’s embrace, Shanna took hold of his hands and gazed into his eyes. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you endured all that pain.”
“See, Shanna, I’ve experienced true love. And I feel it again with you.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her palms.
“That isn’t possible, Niall.”
“Why not?”
“Because. I’m human. You’re a ghost. We’re not compatible.”
“Are you saying we’re not compatible when making love?”
She swallowed and shook her head. “That’s the only realistic thing we have going for us.”
“So I’m capable of satisfying you sexually, but the emotional aspect is taboo?”
“No. Yes.”
“What if I asked you to remain in Ireland with me forever?”
“I know I could easily love you, Niall, but under different circumstances.” She blinked and lowered her gaze to the floor. “And I’d love to spend the remainder of my life with you, but I can’t do that. I need normalcy. Someone I can touch or speak to in front of my peers without receiving scowls of ridicule.”
“I’ve told you that I have a purpose. I’m not a misplaced soul.”
She removed her hands from his and sat down on the edge of the bed where she reached up and massaged her temples to soothe the beginning of a headache. “It’ll never work.”
“Come, love,” he said, reaching for her hand. “For now let’s at least appease Sir Henry. We’ll come back to us later.”
She grabbed his hand and stood, inhaling a shaky breath. “Okay, but you go first.”
She lagged behind while he strolled to the door and opened it slowly. Then she snuggled against his ribs, squeezing his hand for dear life as they stepped into the lift and descended to the lobby. Is this the last ride of my life?
To her horror and surprise, Áine stood near the old lift, shoulders held high and her left hand clasped around a flashlight at her side as if awaiting their arrival.
“I knew you’d come. Niall, Shanna, please step inside.” She held her free hand toward the old lift. “You have nothing to fear.”
Shanna eyed her curiously. “How’d you know?”
“My dear, this is my castle, my home, I miss nothing which transpires inside these walls.”
“As in, the ghosts you told me don’t exist.”
“I had no choice. I apologize, but I’ve remained silent long enough. I vowed I would not intervene with Sir Henry’s desperate attempts to sway you, but I can no longer stand silent. You must go to wherever he leads you. Please,” Áine encouraged, taking a step closer to the open door, “step in. He will not harm you, but soon you’ll understand.”
“You knew the entire time?”
“Yes, dear, now please, go on.”
Shanna placed one foot over the threshold and froze. While waiting for feelings of doom to chomp away at her spine, she held her breath and glanced at Niall, but the anticipated eeriness didn’t evolve.
She looked over her shoulder at Áine for reassurance.
“It’s okay,”
Áine said, placing a hand on Shanna’s lower back as if to give her a shove.
Shanna tightened her grip on Niall’s hand. “I think she’s right. It’s going to be okay.”
He nodded then stepped onto the platform and yanked Shanna against his chest, crushing her in an endless embrace. She slightly turned and depressed the A button.
“Take this. You may need it,” Áine said, handing Niall the flashlight. She then slammed the inner metal gate. Shanna jumped, burying her face in Niall’s breastbone. The loud clank of the gate reminded her of a prison cell shutting during lockdown. Then the outer door clicked into place and she jumped again because now she felt trapped with no turning back.
Niall stroked the back side of her head in a soothing gesture, despite his hands trembling. “Are you okay, Shanna?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Her forehead brushed his bare chest and her rapid breaths bounced off his skin to bathe her face.
The lift sputtered as it inched upward in a jostling, never-ending incline, tugging and pulling its way to the top as if it needed a boost. Then finally it shimmied to a grinding stop.
“We made it, love.” He slid the inner gate aside then yanked open the outer door. Tucking Shanna under his arm, he guided her into a dimly lit room that appeared no larger than a storage room.
A musty smell permeated her nose and she sneezed. An open doorway on the left offered enough light to illuminate a narrow passage, which seemed the only way out. The walls were yellowish-green and the floor covered in brown linoleum. At the far end stood a heavy wooden door. But as they journeyed down the passage, scuffling noises behind a door to their right caught their attention and they halted.
“That came from in here,” she said.
As Niall placed his hand on the chipped wrought iron handle, she stepped aside, reluctant to see what lay inside. He tugged. With little resistance the door opened. A gust of cool air whammed her in the face. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath until it passed then cautiously reopened her lids as an aura of calm surged from the octagonal room.
Daylight poured through a peak constructed of eight rectangular windows. Concrete block walls butted into the concrete floor and tapered toward the glass. Slices of light peeked through numerous fractures in the blocks. Particles of mortar and stone sprinkled from the cracks and trickled at least forty feet to the floor.
Phantom Mischief Page 12
