“I can promise you that no one is putting you on. I don’t know how I’m able to do this, but coming here gets easier every time,” she said.
That wicked grin returned, and his eyes once again lingered on her camisole. “So it’s like you’re here, but not quite. Nice twist on role play. It’s a brilliant story line. I still don’t know how they managed to do this. You felt real.” He tentatively extended a hand.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned him as she wheeled around and resumed her spot near the window.
“Well, it’s only fair!” He laughed again. “And I’m curious. You have to admit that a woman who looks like a ghost and yet isn’t a ghost is interesting. It’s all in the name of research. Just trying to see if the same thing happens to you as it did to me.”
She’d better change the subject before he made her blush again!
And what would it hurt for him to think she was a look-alike? “Tell you what. If I look like Kate Mercer, why don’t we just go with that? Call me Kate. So what do you write?”
At first she didn’t think he was going to answer; he was just going to stay there, parked against the wall, scrutinizing her like a science project.
“Let’s start over. I’m Ian McGuire.” Ian reached past her and plucked a stargazer lily from a vase of flowers and handed it to her. “I write fiction. Supernatural mysteries, mostly. I used to live near Chicago. Right now I travel a lot. It’s . . . well . . . interesting to meet you, Kate. I thought if I ever met a ghost that it’d be wailing and dragging around chains. Not some drop-dead gor—” He scratched his head. “Sorry. Bad pun.”
Kate smelled the flower he’d just given her. The scent was crisp and lovely.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Why you’re here and all?”
Feeling a bit exasperated, Kate sighed. “I’m not sure, really. When I sleep or close my eyes and concentrate enough, I get this falling sensation, and then I’m here. It’s kind of like sleepwalking, except they’re called lucid dreams.”
“Most people don’t sleepwalk to another country. Maybe you’re a time traveler,” he said.
Kate twirled the flower in her hands. “Neat trick without some sort of device. And I only jump time zones. Not time itself.”
“Maybe time zone travel makes you forgetful. Maybe you do have a device—a DeLorean or something. Right now you just can’t recall where you left the keys. Or what you did with your socks and shoes. Or sweater.”
Kate nodded appreciatively. A DeLorean. He didn’t know her, but he had correctly guessed that she’d prefer a sports car to a phone booth or a contraption that resembled an airboat. She glanced down at her attire. “The hazards of apparitional sleepwalking. Maybe I just fell out of bed and hit my head on something.”
“Uh-huh. You wear jeans to bed?” He gave her a curious look.
“What? No. Usually not.” She was smiling again. “I closed my eyes, thought about being here, and the next thing I knew, I was talking to you. Am I going to end up as a character in your book?”
“Definitely,” he replied. “It’s all part of the plan, right? So you keep coming here. Are you looking for something? Lost treasure? Secret passage?”
“Well, now that you mention it, I am looking for someone.” Damn! She hadn’t meant it like it probably sounded.
“And did you find him?” Ian grinned.
“No, but maybe you know him.” Again her words came out all wrong.
The grin vanished from his face. “Sorry to hear that. I’m just a guest here, but I might know him. Do you have a name or description?”
“Tall. Thirtyish. Wears a suit. Blue eyes.”
“That’d be Declan.” He pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. Unsure of his motives, she held still. He brushed her hair from her shoulder and lightly touched her arm. A rush of warmth flooded her. “That’s too bad. Understandable, but unfortunate for me. I was enjoying our conversation. Give me a second, and I’ll walk you downstairs. You do walk, don’t you? You don’t pass through walls and floors?”
“No. I don’t. I make a horrible ghost. And the offer is nice, but not necessary. I know the way,” she said.
Ian’s hand rested on the doorknob to his room. “Well, I know he’d love to see you.”
She realized he’d misunderstood why she wanted to see Declan. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I just really need to talk to him. It’s important.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything,” he said, but his doubtful expression said differently.
A distant chime echoed in the hall.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Kate said.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t hear that?” she asked.
He frowned. “Hear what?”
“My cell. Doesn’t he ever give up?” The unmistakable ringtone she’d assigned to Michael.
“He?”
“No one. I mean, it’s a long story.”
Leave it to Michael to interrupt what was turning out to be a pretty interesting visit. Well, considering . . .
“No, Kate. Don’t go just yet!”
She tried to speak, but she knew Ian wouldn’t be able to hear her. He already seemed so far away. He called out, but his voice was too faint. Kate closed her eyes as she felt herself fall, knowing that when she opened them, she’d be awake on her bed back in Vancouver.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kate
She opened her eyes. Her cell phone rang again. She should just let it go to voice mail, but she was so irritated that she snatched the phone from the nightstand and answered.
“Hello?” she asked sharply. A plume of frosted breath blew across the phone as she spoke. Mist? Had that ever happened before? No. It was just her brain playing tricks. It was gone now, and the room temp was normal, not arctic.
“Kate!” Michael sounded surprised she’d finally answered one of his calls. “I woke you—I’m sorry.”
No, she thought angrily, you yanked me away from . . . never mind.
This had to stop. He had to let her move on. This wasn’t healthy. For either of them.
And whatever she was doing was?
“Michael—”
“Kate, listen. I could tell you I’m sorry over and over, but saying it isn’t enough.”
For what felt like the thousandth time in the past month, Kate steeled herself for this conversation. The one where she told him they were done—and he insisted they weren’t. He couldn’t understand that for her, love couldn’t live where there wasn’t any trust.
She rolled over, and a white lily fell to the bed. Kate stared at it, her mind scrambling to comprehend. Michael kept talking, but she was no longer listening.
She picked up the flower, smelled it. It should have been impossible, but the flower Ian had given her was right here, in her hand. It was real. And that meant . . .
“Kate? Are you there?”
“Michael, look. We’ve—”
“Gone over this before. I know. But that’s not what I just said.”
Kate shook her head, trying to jump-start her brain. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to call—”
He cleared his throat, interrupting her. “It’s about the wrap party. The dinner, actually.”
Kate twirled the flower in her hand. If Ian was real, that meant the castle was real . . . “Yeah. I know. Tomorrow night. I’ll be there, Michael.”
Unless she just started disappearing and reappearing somewhere else while completely awake.
That was a frightening thought. But not as frightening as the gargoyles. Because if everything else was real, then they were, too.
“I’d like to take you, Kate. One last time. Please. Just this once and I’ll . . . I’ll let it go after that, if you want. I promise.”
He sounded desperate, and Kate just wanted off the phone. She had to be at the dinner anyway—would it hurt to drive there with him? Would it only make things worse? Kate rubbe
d her forehead. Worse. It’d make things so much worse. What was that saying? Give someone an inch and they’d take a mile? That was Michael through and through. She drew a deep breath, ready to tell him no, stop asking, stop calling, just stop. But all she could think about was the flower and how the gargoyles would attack again. She might be able to end all of this.
They had chosen her. Declan knew why. But since he wasn’t coming to her, she had to go back and find him.
“Kate?”
If she ignored all this, maybe the gargoyles would choose someone else. But in the wrong hands, what kind of damage could they do?
“Hey, Michael, I’m in the middle of something—”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then. I can pick you up at six thirty. Thank you, Kate. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Before she could protest, Michael ended the call.
“Ugh!” Kate stared at the phone. How did she get roped into this? All of this?
Kate stood and walked to her bedroom window overlooking the bay. All her life she’d fought to make something of herself. A few months ago, she’d had everything she ever wanted. Then her relationship with Michael fell apart. And now these visits. What was happening to her?
She sniffed the lily in her hand once more. She thought about Ian, how he made her laugh. Her hand on his chest. She hadn’t expected him, and yet there was something about him that made her feel good in a way that she hadn’t in a long time. In all of this, he seemed the most normal. The most grounded.
Not wanting to lose that feeling, she returned to her bed, picking up a pen and notepad. Ideas and reminders often came to her in the middle of the night. The notepad was a way of capturing them and letting her go back to sleep.
Under Guest bedroom might look better painted lavender and Call accountant, Kate wrote: I can’t stay away. He’s trouble, but the way I felt around him . . . It was nice. If he showed up on my doorstep tomorrow, I wouldn’t turn him away.
Looking back, how could she not have known that Shadow Wood was real? How was it possible to recall the smell of the flowers, how cool the air felt on her bare arms? Then there was the attack on the two boys. How had she deluded herself into thinking they were incredibly lucid dreams? And what about the lily she’d brought back?
Kate couldn’t deny that she was attracted to Ian, despite her best efforts to rationalize it away, that she only wanted to fill a void, lessen the hurt and betrayal. But being around Ian might not let her think clearly, logically. The visits to Shadow Wood required her full attention. Until she understood what was happening and why, Kate promised herself that from here on, she’d avoid that part of the castle and Ian at all costs.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ian
The half-drawn curtains allowed the midmorning sun to stream through the window. Birds chirped outside. From the hallway came the faint sound of opening and closing doors, which meant some of the guests were on their way to breakfast.
The thought of scrambled eggs and hot coffee caused Ian’s stomach to rumble, but he ignored it. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, recalling last night. How had Declan made the woman look like a ghost and yet able to touch him at the same time?
Ian didn’t doubt everyone’s encounter in the Twilight Zone, but people did tend to tell fish stories or flat-out make things up. And then there were hoaxes, trick photography, and the power of persuasion.
That mentalist thing Declan had going on. That was it! Declan had set him up to think the ghost was real, and then he’d done that . . . whatever it was mentalists did. Declan had chosen a woman who looked like Kate Mercer just to make the whole thing less freaky. It was Declan’s way of making him aware that this was an elaborate role play without actually breaking the magic of the whole thing by telling him outright.
But damn! This girl really did look like Kate Mercer. Still, didn’t everyone have a double somewhere?
This made him think about doppelgängers. They’d make a better story than banshees. He thought about it for a minute, but no real story line presented itself. He sighed, realizing that he was still creatively stuck.
Ian rubbed his eyes and swung out of bed. He peeked out the window at a perfect, sunny autumn morning. The glass was chilly to the touch, and he could hear a slight breeze blowing through the trees outside, but it was a beautiful day to tour the grounds. With the exception of a few birds, there weren’t any signs of the hunters, dogs, or much of anything else.
He dug out his shaving kit from his duffel bag and headed for the bathroom. While he brushed his teeth, his mind wandered back to the sound, the ringtone that Kate said she’d heard. He hadn’t heard a thing. Was this the mystery Von Hiller and Declan had mentioned?
Declan and Von Hiller were already seated in the dining hall when Ian arrived. At the buffet table, he filled a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon and poured a large cup of coffee, then made his way to the table to join them.
One of the men at a nearby table sported a sizeable bandage around his forearm. A small, dark stain had bled through. The woman diagonal to him had a puffy red spot on her cheek that promised to be black and blue soon.
What did these people hunt? Bambi on steroids? Some hopped-up creature from a Stephen King novel? His host was really good at this world-building stuff, and someone was equally as talented with theatrical makeup.
Declan sipped his coffee. “Good morning, Ian. I trust you slept well?”
Ian nodded. “I did, until I met your ghost. I have some questions about her.”
Declan smiled faintly. “As do we all.” He took another sip of coffee before putting the cup on the saucer with barely a clink. “Before we try to sort it all out, tell us what happened.”
Von Hiller shifted in his chair as though it might help him to hear better. Ian told them about the woman who called herself Kate, checking for any change of expression from the two men that might give him insight. With the last bite of his breakfast, he mentioned that Kate had received a call from a man and that the call had pulled her away.
A ghost with a cell phone? Talk about a dead ringer! HA!
Unlike Von Hiller, who’d stayed practically on the edge of his seat as Ian recounted the previous night’s visit, Declan calmly listened, nodding his head every once in a while, encouraging Ian to continue. With the mention of the mystery man, he finally spoke up.
“Who do you think this man is?” Declan sounded thoughtful, almost concerned. “And you say this Kate looks like an actress?”
Ah! Here was where the mystery part came into play. Just as he’d suspected. “No idea who this guy was. I thought you might know. You’ve never heard of Kate Mercer?” Ian asked.
Both men shook their heads, acting completely clueless.
“No, I am afraid I have never heard of her. I do not watch much television, nor do I go to the theaters,” Declan replied. “But if you say our ghost looks like her, maybe finding the real Kate Mercer is a great place to start.”
Ian shrugged, still playing along. The setup was nice—he’d used it in his books before. Isolation, either through technology or distance, helped build conflict and suspense. “Couldn’t be that hard, I suppose. She’s probably got a website with the contact info for her agent or PR person.”
“We’ll definitely investigate this Kate Mercer woman,” Von Hiller said.
How did the real actress fit into this little mystery? He tried to recall details from the Dark Fall trilogy: a deadly virus mutates and causes worldwide pandemonium and super-strong, homicidal, zombielike people.
Von Hiller’s gaze shifted, and Ian turned to look. Sara approached them, dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and a sage-green sweater. She carried a glass of orange juice and a small plate heaped with bacon strips and a pile of scrambled eggs.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. Is my timing off?” She looked inquisitively between the three men.
“Nonsense,” Declan replied. “Your company is always welcome. Ian has been informing us of his visit last night with ou
r mystery woman.”
Sara took a seat beside Ian. He noted that she, too, remained undaunted.
“Sounds interesting,” she said, nibbling a piece of bacon. “She’s becoming quite a regular, I hear.”
“Ian saw her in the hallway right outside his room,” Declan informed her.
Sara threw Declan a glance. “Oh?”
Ian gave a half shrug and briefly described his ghostly visit.
Sara picked up another piece of bacon from her plate. “Not exactly the sight you signed on for, I bet. At least not before you’ve had a chance to see the rest of the castle. But wow! Kate Mercer? Are you sure the ghost looked like her?”
Ian slid his empty coffee cup aside. Why was everyone so hung up on the real Kate? This time he couldn’t resist the joke. “Dead ringer.”
Sara and Von Hiller laughed, but Declan didn’t appear to find it nearly as amusing.
Von Hiller turned to Ian. “Speaking of sightseeing, we thought you might like to tour the grounds this morning. It’s such a beautiful day outside.”
Sara devoured the last of the bacon. The hunt must have given her one hell of an appetite. “This time of year is breathtaking,” she said.
Ian nodded, but before he could formally accept the invitation, Declan added, “Sara is the perfect guide. She knows the grounds better than almost anyone.”
“Do you mind?” Sara asked Ian as she started in on her eggs.
“Not at all. I look forward to it. Ready when you are.”
Von Hiller smiled. “Perfect! Sara has so much to show you.”
Sara took the last bite of her breakfast, folded her napkin over her plate, and stood. Ian got to his feet and followed her from the table.
Sara knew the grounds as if she were a paid tour guide rather than a guest. She knew almost everything about the castle and what might interest a new visitor, from the date it had been built—1502—to the type of material used—sandstone. It surprised Ian that Sara’s history lesson didn’t include any references to dungeons, torture, or bad fortune as most castle tours did. In fact, she didn’t mention the castle ever being owned by a king or any other class of royalty. Rather unusual, he thought.
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