Shades of Winter

by Linda Fallon

  “Do you have any other ideas?” O’Hara asked.

  Lionel shook his head.

  Moving quickly, they led the horses away from the hotel and into the woods, where the animals would be protected by space and the wide trunks of old trees. As they returned to the weathered structure, they gathered a number of good throwing rocks.

  “What if it doesn’t work?” O’Hara asked glumly. “Basically we’re throwing stones at a haunted hotel and expecting it will actually lead to something greater.”

  “It’s more than that,” Lionel said. “Melissa was a witch who cursed the place, years ago. For some reason I can’t hear her clearly, but I do know one thing. Before she died she placed a curse on the hotel. The beginning of destruction will bring the end. I suspect she planned to begin the destruction herself, but was killed before she could complete the task.”

  “It’s worth a try,” O’Hara said.

  They stood as far back as possible, and they each hefted a rock. O’Hara tossed one rock straight up and then caught it deftly in his hand.

  “Stand away from the windows,” Lionel shouted, for Lucien and Eve’s benefit. Then he drew back his arm and threw a large rock toward a second-story window. And missed.

  O’Hara snorted. “Some Viking you are,” he muttered as he tossed his own rock to a second-story window.

  The rock he threw found its mark, and a window shattered. There was a moment of complete silence. Nothing happened. Nothing! O’Hara groaned and tossed his rocks to the ground. So much for Lionel’s vision.

  And then, a heartbeat later, it began. Every window in the place exploded, glass flying out of and into the hotel. The sound was loud and shrill, explosive and angry.

  They shielded their eyes from the few shards of glass that came that far, and Lionel said, “Nice throw.”

  “Baseball,” O’Hara explained simply.

  The destruction didn’t stop with the explosion of the windows. The walls shook, the porch covering began to shake perilously.

  “I’m going in to get them,” O’Hara said, taking one step forward before Lionel stopped him.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  The front door flew open, and Lucien and Eve ran out. Lucien was protecting Eve as best he could, shielding her from flying glass and debris that seemed to come out of nowhere. Beyond the open door, it looked as if a small tornado was tearing through the lobby.

  Lucien wore nothing but a pair of dark, half-buttoned trousers. Eve was barefoot, and her stained and ripped wedding gown was more off her than on. They were both wild-haired, and Lucien looked as if someone had recently pummeled him about the face.

  But they were alive, and they were relatively well.

  As the couple reached O’Hara and Lionel, all four began to run for the forest.

  “Am I the only one who wants to stay and watch?” Lucien asked.

  “Yes,” three voices answered at once.

  “But it is fascinating,” he argued. “We might never witness such a phenomenon again.”

  “It’s a dangerous place for you still, Lucien,” Lionel said as he helped the battered man into the saddle of one of their horses. “I suggest we all move on, as quickly as possible.” He then assisted Eve into the space before Lucien. “It’s for the best,” he added solemnly.

  Lucien nodded, and Lionel jumped up to ride behind O’Hara. As they took their leave at a steady pace, O’Hara looked back, leaning to the side to see past the man who was perched behind him.

  Shingles flew off the roof, walls shuddered and then fell to the ground in pieces. Four white columns dropped, one by one, and in a matter of moments the hotel collapsed in on itself.

  At the sound of the crash, Lucien stopped his horse and turned it around. O’Hara did the same, and the four of them watched the ensuing destruction wide-eyed and silent.

  O’Hara, who rarely saw anything supernatural without actually touching a person or a thing, saw a collection of lights rise as the building fell. Fully formed ghosts and bits of brightness amongst the dark ascended toward the blue sky in a colorful, bright swirl. Red, yellow, blue, all the colors of the rainbow escaped into the waiting sky.

  Something darker tried to follow. A swirl of gray and black, a mass larger than the other spirits, chased them into the clouds. Scrydan. But while the other spirits escaped, the darker cloud was trapped. Scrydan was still tied to the house that was quickly destroying itself. He was still trapped in the land.

  O’Hara expected to see the dark cloud drift down into the land, and it seemed the spirit tried.

  But the witch’s spell worked too well. The dark cloud swirled above the collapsed hotel for a moment, and then there was a howl—like the wind through the trees. But there was no wind, there was only Scrydan’s scream.

  And as they watched, the dark cloud literally fell apart. It broke into smaller pieces, dissolved, and screamed one last time.

  Eve turned her face into Lucien’s chest, and the two of them held each other tight as Lucien turned the horse around. Lionel sighed, in relief and exhaustion, as he and O’Hara watched the last of the dark cloud fade away.

  “Is it really gone?” O’Hara asked.

  “Yes,” Lionel said.

  “Should we go back and …”

  “No,” Lionel answered quickly. “There’s no reason to go back.”

  Which meant there was no place to go but forward, and that was a very scary thought.

  Sixteen

  What do you say to a woman who saves not only your life, but your very soul? I love you seemed trite and inadequate. He’d said those words a hundred times, and he meant every word, every time, but it wasn’t enough in this instance. Thank you? Not even close to enough.

  Fortunately Lucien didn’t have to say anything, at the moment. Eve was sound asleep in his arms, as they rode slowly toward home.

  “Are you sure you don’t want my coat?” O’Hara offered for the third time, as he pulled his horse up alongside Lucien’s.

  “No, thank you.” He should be cold, he knew that, but he wasn’t. Scrydan was gone, dead, no more, and yet Lucien still carried a small piece of him inside, as he always carried a remnant of any soul he channeled. It never lasted. An unfamiliar accent, the memories of another person, a slice of a personality unlike his own … they never stayed with him long. Minutes, hours perhaps. But then, he’d never been possessed by anything as evil as Scrydan, before, and he’d never kept another spirit inside him for such an extended period of time. Who knew how he might react? That little bit of evil that lived inside Lucien scared him.

  Lucien remembered everything Scrydan had done, before his death and after. He remembered as if he had been there, as if he had done those things. Logically, he knew he had not. He knew the memories would fade.

  But what if they didn’t fade this time? What if Scrydan was always with him?

  “I’m not cold,” he said again. Barefoot and naked from the waist up, he should be. “But if you don’t mind I will take that coat, for Eve.” She wore her wedding gown, with those long satin sleeves, but it wasn’t enough. The gown was low cut, and she shivered even as she slept.

  “Of course,” O’Hara said eagerly.

  They brought their horses to a halt, and both O’Hara and Lionel quickly removed their jackets. Lucien took them both, and arranged the garments around the sleeping Eve. She stirred, but did not wake. She was truly exhausted.

  “I still despise you,” Lucien said to O’Hara as he tucked a bit of one of the jackets around Eve’s arm. “And one day you and I are going to have a long discussion about the proper way to treat a lady.”

  O’Hara sighed. “Why don’t you just pummel me and get it over with,” he said passionlessly.

  “I might.” It was a tempting idea, but at the moment there was nothing he could do. He had no strength, and he certainly didn’t have the heart to lash out at the man who had helped to save his life and Eve’s.

  “Looks like someone pummeled you pretty good,” O
’Hara added. “What happened?”

  Lucien lifted one hand and touched a sensitive place on his jaw. It was bruised, surely. One eye did seem to be a little bit swollen. He had to think for a moment, and then it came to him, in a flash. He’d been tied to the bed, and Eve had been atop him, hitting him, crying, begging him to come back.

  “It was Eve,” Lionel said absently. “She fought Scrydan the only way she knew how.”

  Lucien prodded his horse to move forward, and O’Hara and Lionel followed.

  “She was a warrior,” Lionel continued in a softer voice. “She truly saved you, Lucien. She saved us all.”

  “I know.”

  They had hours ahead of them before they’d reach Plummerville, especially with two riders to each horse. Hours where he didn’t feel the cold, where he wondered if the demon still lived inside him. Hours where he’d pass the time wondering if he should marry Eve or let her go. He loved her too much to let her go; but at the same time he loved her too much to take the chance that something like this might happen again.

  “You’re a very lucky man,” O’Hara said.

  “I know.”

  “Do you really?” O’Hara asked sharply. “Do you know how few men ever know the kind of love Eve has for you? She knows what you can do, how you live your life, what you see every day, and still she wants you. She knows who you are in the pit of your soul, and still she loves you. It’s more than lucky. You’re blessed.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me that,” Lucien answered in a low voice.

  “Someone obviously needs to. After all this … after what she did for you. If you leave it will destroy her.”

  Lucien glanced sharply at O’Hara. “Have you taken up mind reading? You certainly haven’t touched me.”

  “I don’t need to,” O’Hara said. “The truth is written all over your face. Any member of that blasted idiotic Plummerville Ghost Society could decipher it.”

  “Eve is none of your business.” Lucien held her a little bit tighter.

  “Eve is my friend, and that means anyone who mistreats her makes their behavior and her safety my business.”

  “Touching,” Lucien muttered.

  “Stop it,” Lionel commanded. “You two are giving me a headache, squabbling like a couple of old women.”

  “O’Hara obviously thinks he has the right …”

  “Stop it!” Lionel said again. “This is not the time or the place for you two to argue. We’re cold, we’re hungry, and we’ve been through hell.”

  Lucien took a deep breath of cold air and glanced down at Eve. As if she knew he was watching her, her eyes fluttered and opened. She smiled up at him, briefly and wanly, and then closed her eyes again and instantly fell back to sleep.

  Plummerville. Home at last. Katherine didn’t know whether to be elated or disappointed. Coming home meant an end to what she’d found with Garrick.

  For the first part of their journey, Garrick had ridden with Hugh, since his strength was needed to support the injured man. Daisy, who did not ride well, had hung onto Buster. Katherine had a saddle and a horse to herself. Too bad. She would have liked an excuse to hold onto Garrick for a while longer.

  Once they’d collected their abandoned wagon and made Hugh comfortable, she’d sat next to Garrick for a while, on the driver’s seat.

  But coming home meant an end to fanciful dreams. There would be no yellow dresses. No going west. No anything, not for her and Garrick. In the end she was a widow who eked out a meager existence, and he was the son of the richest man in town. They didn’t belong together, no matter how good it felt when he touched her.

  They didn’t have a future together, and she refused to be his mistress. It would be tempting, if he came to her one night and looked at her with those beautiful eyes of his. But that would make her no better than one of his Savannah whores. Katherine Cassidy might not have much, but she would be no man’s harlot.

  People ran out to greet them, emerging from shops along the main way, and Garrick asked one man to fetch the doctor. He guided the wagon close to the doctor’s office, and when the physician who served all of Plummerville came rushing out, the two men assisted Hugh from the wagon’s bed.

  Garrick and Buster supported Hugh, and the three men and Daisy followed the doctor toward his office.

  Katherine left the wagon, but she stood apart from the others, watching them all band together to aid the injured man. When they reached the door, Garrick stumbled and glanced back.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” he asked.

  Katherine shook her head. “I can’t. I need to get home.”

  He nodded and returned his attention to Hugh Felder, who was having a difficult time remaining on his feet.

  And just like that, it was over.

  Once they reached the main road, Lucien seemed to be confident of the way. O’Hara hung back and allowed him to lead.

  Lucien, the sonofabitch, was going to leave Eve again. O’Hara saw the truth on Lucien’s face. Eve had almost died to save him, she had been willing to sacrifice herself to save them all, and he was going to leave her! It would crush her, to lose the man she loved. It would kill her as surely as Scrydan would have, if he’d been given the chance.

  O’Hara wished he could knock some sense into the man. Didn’t Lucien know how rare Eve was?

  He’d believed Daisy to be rare, for a while. Once she’d discovered that they weren’t going to die after all, her tune had changed. She’d expressed her regret over allowing him to touch her, and even though she had seemed sincere in her wishes that he take care in his rescue efforts, he suspected her real concern was for her friends. Not for him.

  Was he doomed to live a life alone? Hugh had done so, since his wife’s death, and he seemed content enough. Lionel apparently liked being alone most of the time. He didn’t seem to mind at all that there was no room in his life for a woman of consequence.

  O’Hara did mind, very much.

  Eve moved. Her hand raked up Lucien’s bare back, the movement slow and easy. Was she shifting about in her sleep? Or had she awakened just long enough to tell her sweetheart that she loved him?

  “It’s not our business,” Lionel said softly, the voice intrusive in O’Hara’s ear.

  “You’re not supposed to do that!” O’Hara insisted.

  “I can’t help it,” Lionel protested. “I feel like you’re shouting in my head. What happened at the hotel, it drained me. I don’t have the strength to block everything, at the moment. For God’s sake, let it go.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “I don’t think you have any choice.”

  Like the rest of his life, from the beginning to this moment, he had no choice. Lucien was going to break the heart of a good woman, Eve was going to wither without the man she loved, Daisy was going to hide from him and every other man, and he would continue on as he had, solving other people’s problems and ignoring his own.

  What he wouldn’t give for a somewhat normal life. Surely he wasn’t alone in his desire for the little things other men took for granted. A woman. Children. A home. Did the others ever long for something more than this? Did they ever crave what they could not have?

  “Yes,” Lionel whispered.

  For once, O’Hara didn’t chastise his friend for peeking into his mind.

  Plummerville waited before them, quiet and peaceful. Eve belonged here. It was the home she had made for herself, the sanctuary she had come to after he’d broken her heart. No matter what happened in the days and months and years to come, she would be safe here.

  It was late afternoon, and already the sky was turning gray. The days were short now, but winter would soon turn to spring and the days would grow longer. Eve could plant that garden she’d been talking about. She and Daisy would plan cozy dinner parties. With or without him, life would go on here.

  Buster saw them and came running out of the doctor’s office. Lucien slowed the pace of his horse, but did not stop. “Hugh?” he asked simply.
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br />   Buster nodded. “He’ll be okay, the doc says.” His eyes flitted to Eve. “How is she?”

  “Sleeping,” Lucien said in a low voice, so as not to disturb her. As if he could! She had barely stirred on the long trip from the Honeycutt Hotel.

  “She’s not …” Buster began, swallowing the last word he could not say.

  “She’s fine,” Lucien assured the farmer. “Just fine.”

  Lionel and O’Hara halted their horse and dismounted, anxious to check on Hugh and see for themselves that their colleague was doing well. Lucien didn’t stop, but continued on toward Eve’s cottage.

  He was beginning to feel the cold. Was that a good sign? He couldn’t be certain, but he thought … perhaps. People stared as they passed, and he was not surprised. He was half dressed, Eve was asleep in his arms, in her wedding gown. Stories of the weekend’s disaster had surely begun to circulate, since the others had arrived earlier in the afternoon. How many of those stories were based on truth? They were so fantastic, no one who hadn’t been there would ever believe what had happened.

  As he reached Eve’s little house, the red door welcoming them, the door swung open and four people poured out. Eve’s aunt and uncle, two wide-eyed cousins.

  “Wake up, darling,” he whispered into Eve’s ear. “You’re home.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. “I don’t think I have ever been so happy to be home in my entire life.”

  With effort, he gave her a smile. It seemed to comfort her, for the time being. He assisted her down and into her uncle’s steady arms, and then he dismounted and lifted her into his arms once again. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

  “Good heavens!” Eve’s Aunt Constance shouted as Lucien carried Eve through the open doorway and into the house. “What happened? Look at the two of you, dirty and bedraggled, and Mr. Thorpe, you are barely dressed! Girls!” she snapped. “Turn around. This is not a proper sight for innocent eyes.”

  Eve’s meek cousins obeyed without a single protest.

  Lucien did his best to ignore them all, as he stepped onto the staircase to the sound of the front door being slammed shut.