Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  Now, with a little shake and rattle, I can tell this compartment is empty. At the moment. But that's not what caught my eye. It was the way the opal-like surface reflected the candle flame— directly into Sophie's eyes. That Madame See Nothing was pulling the wool over somebody's eyes, and not with poison. It was the motion of the locket that she was employing.

  I never would have noticed the good madame's game except for Sophie's glass of wine. From my vantage point behind the good Madame, I saw the reflection of the necklace in the wineglass. Then, bingo, I knew exactly what was happening. And no one else at the table suspected a thing. They all thought Sophie was communicating with some otherworldly personality. Not.

  In my mind, Sophie is explained, but I don't understand the voice. All along I've been thinking maybe William was involved. You know, the old "I'm Slaytor reborn" scenario where he undergoes some kind of psychotic split. But William was sitting right at the table. He didn't open his mouth. I watched his lips carefully. And there have been no claims to ventriloquism. This will take some work, unless William has trapped the intruder, which I doubt. Whoever is making the rounds of this castle knows it pretty darn well.

  I'll zip down to the barn and see what's going on there. I haven't heard the thunder of hooves, so I'm thinking everyone is still on the grounds. Mary should be there. Fingers crossed— or toes as the case may be.

  * * *

  "KITTY, KITTY!" Chancey caught the glint of gold in Familiar's mouth, and her natural curiosity drove her to try to grab the cat.

  Spry as a young kitten, Familiar leapt sideways and darted into the barn where he found Mary. One look at her face told him plenty was wrong.

  He garbled a meow around the necklace and deposited the jewelry at her feet.

  "Familiar!" Mary recognized the necklace immediately as belonging to Madame Sianna. "Where did you get this?"

  She examined the opal-like, almost liquid surface. "It's not expensive, but it's pretty. I'm sure Madame Sianna will be looking for it."

  "Me-ow." It sounded exactly like "No doubt."

  Mary couldn't resist holding up the necklace to catch the dim barn lights. Even without a direct source of illumination, a multitude of icy fires swirled in the stone.

  "This is beautiful. Now we'd better go take it back." Mary looked down at the cat. He'd never shown any interest in jewelry before, but the necklace reminded her that she'd still not returned the MacEachern marriage ring to William. She hated to admit it, but Chancey's gleeful thrusts had twice nicked her heart— and unlocked a series of demons. Why hadn't William told her about the urgent need for an heir? Point one. Point two— if the ring had been lost for over a hundred years, how had William suddenly found it? Was he possessed by Slaytor? Had Slaytor hidden the ring?

  Worry for William drove almost every other thought out of her mind. That voice! It had been positively terrifying. And Sophie had acted as if she were responding to it.

  "I don't believe in ghosts," she muttered to Familiar, but even to her own ears the statement lacked conviction. "But I do believe in hobgoblins. There's one outside the barn right this minute." She nodded toward the courtyard where Chancey had set up a guardpost to wait for William. "So let's take the back way and avoid her."

  Familiar needed no urging as he took the lead toward the side exit at the barn. Mary and the cat made it inside just in time to watch Clarissa, Darren, and Mrs. Daugherty drive away. Dr. Sloan, after making sure that Sophie was okay, was also preparing to leave. His tall forehead was wrinkled in concern as he motioned Mary aside.

  "Our conversation is troubling me," he said, looking around to make sure that no one could overhear them. "Your friend should be sent back to Edinburgh, and it might not be a bad idea for you to accompany her. This has been a trying trip for her, and she's worried sick for you, Mary. Is there something you're not telling me?"

  "I won't leave William."

  "That's what she said you'd say." He sighed.

  "What did you make of tonight?" Mary asked.

  "Scientifically, I have no real clues. I heard the voice, but I don't believe in ghosts. I'd say someone is out to play a prank on William, but it's gone beyond the measure of a jokester."

  "I agree." Mary was relieved to hear the calm tone of her voice. Somewhere along the way she'd become much stronger. She clenched her fingers around the necklace, then realized what she was holding. She opened her palm. "Familiar took this."

  The doctor showed surprise. "That crazy medium said the cat stole her necklace. I thought it might be another ruse to try to get back inside Mayfair." He lifted the necklace, caught by the sparkle and swirl of the surface of the medallion. "It looks like opal, but it isn't. Highly reflective."

  "Meow!" Familiar sat at his feet. As both Mary and the doctor watched, he started moving his head back and forth.

  "Familiar." Mary bent to him but the doctor restrained her.

  "Wait! It isn't possible…? Sophie was sitting across from the medium." He swung the medallion, allowing it to pick up the light. "Yes, it's more than possible. I'd say your friend suffered from a subliminal command given to her while she was lightly hypnotized."

  He swung the medallion into the air, catching it deftly in his hand. "Yes, I'd say that was exactly what happened. Your friend is perfectly okay."

  "Madame Sianna was…"

  "Hypnotizing Sophie and urging her to speak aloud." Dr. Sloan picked up Mary's hand and deposited the necklace into it. "I feel much, much better about her. And possibly about you. With William in the hospital, we'll be able to get to the bottom of what's happening here."

  "And the voice?" Mary didn't want to bring it up, but it had to be resolved. Somehow.

  "That's beyond my experience, Mary," Dr. Sloan said carefully. "My best advice is not to let Clarissa McLeod or Madame Sianna back in this house. Whatever mischief they're up to, you don't need it."

  "Good advice," Mary said. "I only hope William heeds it."

  "He will, Mary. In time, he will." He took her hand that held the necklace. "Now I'd better be off. Early hours tomorrow. A fascinating evening, on all counts."

  "Thank you." Mary closed the door after him. She looked down at the black cat. "You're a fine detective, Familiar. Let's go find William."

  * * *

  I HATE IT when I'm forced to play the role of some slobbering, drooling, red-eyed bloodhound, but I can hardly refuse the request of such a beautiful lady. To be truthful, I'm a little concerned about William myself. He's been gone far too long. The stairs go up five floors, but the top floor is unused and the fourth floor is mostly storage. I know. I've checked. William couldn't find anyone in that mess. I believe everyone who ever lived in this old pile of rocks has stacked some furniture into the storage area. Jeez! There's enough stuff up there to fill several stores.

  Nope, it's going to be up to my superior nose to find William. I've tried tracking down "the voice," but it disappears, virtually into thin air. Not a nice sensation, chill bumps, especially not for a black cat. In thumbing through the library, I've discovered that black cats have not been well thought of in Scotland, all in all. Folks used to believe we consorted with the devil. Of course, that foolishness has been all over the western world. Humans just don't like it when cats are smarter. And believe me, we don't have to go far in some cases!

  I must say, though, that Dr. Sloan and Pixie lady caught on quickly to the hypnosis. So they're smarter than the average Homo sapien.

  Now, up the stairs to the third floor where William disappeared. Jeez, this place is creepy at night. I see Mary stopped long enough to grab a flashlight. Good for her. She's getting smarter and smarter in my estimation. Of course, if she had superior cat eyes…oh, well, enough bragging.

  I can pick up William's scent clearly here.

  Trouble is, his smell disappears right into the wall. Maybe I bragged too soon. This isn't possible. William couldn't have walked into the wall.

  Unless…

  * * *

  "WHERE IS H
E?" Mary watched as Familiar dug at the solid stone of the castle wall. "He didn't go in there, did he?" She couldn't believe it. Familiar was acting as if William had been absorbed into the stone.

  "Let's see, Familiar." Kneeling beside the cat, Mary began to run her fingers over the stones. She held the flashlight under one arm, directing the beam as best she could while she used her sensitive fingers to feel the stones. "I don't know."

  Beside her, Familiar dug, also.

  The triggering device was cleverly hidden in the space between two large stones, and as soon as Mary touched it, she felt the wall shift inward, away from her. A crack barely large enough for a man to squeeze through opened.

  The air that rushed out was dank and nasty-smelling, and Mary had a sudden wave of real fear. Looking up and down the hall, she saw there was no one to witness her actions. She thought of getting Sophie, but Dr. Sloan had given her a mild sedative and put her to bed. Abby and John were already at home in their cottage, probably with Kevin. There was no one in the castle to offer her help.

  Even as she hesitated, she imagined William in some trouble. He'd obviously gone in here. And he hadn't come out! What if he were hurt? Bleeding? That image was enough to prompt her to step through the opening in the wall with Familiar right beside her.

  The passage was extremely narrow. Mary traveled it almost sideways, moving step-by-step. Familiar had taken the lead. Though several feet ahead of her, he was matching his pace to hers. The terrible thought that if William were injured in the passage, she might not be able to get him out made Mary stumble. She righted herself and focused on moving along the rough, uneven floor.

  She was no student of history, but she could tell by the way the stones had been roughly cut that the passage was extremely old. In the inhabited areas of Mayfair, there had been many attempts made at modernization. On the first, second and third floors, some of the passages had been enlarged throughout the centuries. It was possible that this passage was a leftover from some renovation project.

  Or it could have been part of the original castle.

  She couldn't be certain, but she felt a slight decline in the angle of the floor. Were they going down? If there was a descent, it was so gradual that she couldn't tell. There was a definite curve, and then another, both to the left. Several step-downs made her certain they were descending to the second floor.

  As she became more familiar with the passageway, she increased her speed. She was moving rapidly when her flashlight beam fell on Familiar. His hair was prickled into angry spikes. Without uttering a sound, he dashed forward.

  "Familiar," she called after him, moving as fast as she could. Familiar was a great comfort, and she didn't intend to lose him. She didn't want to be left in the tunnel alone.

  As she made one final curve, she stopped. She saw a pair of long legs scrunched against the wall. In the beam of the light she recognized William's slacks. He was crumpled against the wall, motionless.

  Stepping past Familiar, Mary hurried forward and dropped to her knees. Instead of the raging fever she expected to feel when she touched him, William was cool. Very gently, she moved his head so that she could look into his face. As she touched his right temple, she felt something sticky. Without even looking, she knew it was blood.

  In the narrow confines of the tunnel, there was no way to tell how badly William was injured. His breathing was regular and his color seemed fair— as much as she could judge with the flashlight. But he needed to be out of the stale air of the passage. It was enough to make a healthy person hold her breath.

  It would take fifteen minutes to go back the way she'd come, but then she didn't know how she could manage alone to get William out if he remained unconscious. As she was about to head back, Familiar started forward.

  "Meow!" He seemed to be commanding Mary's attention.

  Trusting the cat, she stepped over William and followed Familiar. In a matter of a few yards, they hit a solid stone wall. It was the end of the passage; it looked as if it went nowhere.

  Familiar dropped to his side and began clawing at the wall with all four feet. In a second, Mary heard the shift of stone against stone, then a narrow exit appeared.

  "Where are we?" she asked, poking her head through. An enormous tapestry blocked her view. With as much care as the situation allowed, she pushed it aside. "William's room!" Her surprise was complete.

  The heavy old tapestry came down in Mary's hands as she tugged at it. "I've probably destroyed a part of history, but I don't care," she said to the cat. "We've got to get William out of there."

  Stuffing the tapestry into the opening, Mary nodded with satisfaction. Even if the stone wall should suddenly begin to close, the heavy tapestry would block the opening. It was a precaution that made her feel much better about going back to try to move William herself. The distance was short, and she was determined to get him into his bed without telling anyone else about the passage. Once she'd learned that it led to William's room, a million doubts began to form in her mind. And one way or another, those doubts included everyone in Mayfair. Now she understood the swordsman's pelt she'd found on William's floor— how it had come to be there and how it disappeared.

  Edging back to William, she was relieved to see that the burst of fresh air that had entered the passage when she'd opened the wall had improved his color.

  "William." She knelt beside him on the cold stone and touched his cheek.

  His eyes opened and he reached up to her, stroking her face. "Mary?"

  "Yes." She realized he couldn't see and turned the light so that it illuminated her face. After a few seconds she adjusted the light so that it fell between them. Although William's skin was still cool, his eyes were feverish.

  "I was after him! I saw him, Mary!"

  "The man who was speaking during the séance?" Her pulse raced. If William could identify the man, then they'd be well on their way to solving what was happening at Mayfair!

  "Yes. I saw him. True and certain." William looked beyond her, down the passage. "I don't know how he came to be here, but he was here."

  "Who was it, William?" Clarissa had brought some confederate with her— some hired hand she'd paid to imitate Slaytor. Darren had been in the house the evening before. He might have slipped past Sophie, at least long enough to scout out the area to set up the séance. She felt her hopes leap. They'd work out this mystery, and then William would be able to explain why he hadn't told her the complete truth. "Who was it?" she asked again, eager to know.

  He looked back at her, his expression perplexed. "Why, it was Slaytor. Who did you think it would be?"

  Chapter Twelve

  The narrow passage seemed to shift closer around Mary. William's words were completely insane.

  "He nearly knocked me senseless when I caught up with him in the passage." Excitement intensified William's voice, and he spoke in a breathless rush. "I'd forgotten the stories about these hidden links from floor to floor. They've been a part of the lore of Mayfair for centuries, little passages created during one or another of the renovations. I never believed they were real. Imagine my shock when I saw him dodge into one." He looked at her and grinned. "I managed to follow. I knew I had him then. I knew I had Slaytor!"

  Mary couldn't believe the torrent of words that came from William. She'd hoped for a human solution to their problem, not an encounter with an ancient ghost. She'd hoped for something they could combat together, not a delusion. She'd hoped for the truth— the truth only William could tell her. Chancey's revelations had badly shaken her. But she had to be strong. At the moment, there was no alternative.

  "William, it's awfully dark in here," she said gently. "You had no light."

  "I didn't need a light, Mary. I didn't need a light at all."

  She swallowed. "Why not?"

  "He spoke my name, just as he knocked me to my knees."

  "Just because he knew your name doesn't mean it was Slaytor." It was a sign of his complete disorientation that he wasn't thinking logic
ally. Mary reached out and smoothed his forehead. A sheen of sweat had broken over him. "We should get out of this passage and go to your room. It's only a little farther."

  "You don't believe me, do you?" He reached out and caught her hand.

  "I don't know, William. I was hoping we'd find someone to blame for all of this. It's hard to blame a ghost. And rather pointless." The hopelessness of the situation struck Mary hard. She fought to keep defeat from her voice.

  "Not at all, Mary." William tightened his grip on her hand. "At least now I know what Slaytor wants."

  "And what might that be?" Her interest was piqued, despite herself.

  "He wants me to leave Mayfair."

  "Why?" The information was so unexpected that Mary felt herself being pulled in, if just for the moment.

  "He wants it for himself."

  "But he's dead."

  "Aye, Slaytor is dead." William pulled her down closer to him so that he could whisper. "He's dead and moldering in his grave."

  "But…"

  "The man who clotted my noggin was very much alive, though he wanted me to believe he was Slaytor."

  Mary sank beside William to the rough stone. "Then you know he wasn't a ghost!"

  "Hush, now. These passages carry noise very effectively. Just help me out of here and we'll talk."

  The relief that touched Mary made her feel superhuman. Jumping to her feet in the cramped quarters, she gave William her hand. She didn't know how much she helped, but he did stagger to his feet, and in a few moments they were in his room. He cleared the tapestry from the entrance to the passage and allowed the panel to close. "We'll rehang that in a little while. We need to keep that passage a secret."