Yes, coward. Come out and face me. You spawn of hell! Face me!
He did not appear, and I heard nothing, no evidence to suggest that Champion watched us or waited nearby. I joined the pair and shut the door behind us. The sound was empty, like the closing of a mausoleum. Yes, this unhappy place would be my tomb. Madlen’s eyes went to my gun, and she tucked the boy behind her. I waved them to two dusty wooden chairs that the servants used when we were expecting guests in long-ago days, back when people wanted to come to Sugar Hill.
“You say this boy is my nephew, but who are you?” I took a seat but kept my eye on the door too.
“I am his governess, Madlen Auer. I have not been with the family long, only six weeks. I tell you, sir, we cannot remain in that house another day. There is danger there of a kind I can barely explain, and the boy’s father is not well. He talks to himself and drinks all day. Sometimes he is rough with the child and calls him by your name. I think he has lost his senses. I do not trust what he will to either of us.”
“He is mad,” I agreed. My eyes fell on the boy. He had light hair like his mother’s. I had seen Champion’s wife a handful of times, always from a distance, most recently at Ophelia’s birthday ball. I felt no sympathy for her. What fool would marry such a man? I reminded myself that women do not always have the luxury of saying no to a marriage proposal. This could be my nephew. Those eyes were certainly much like Champion’s, dark and brooding. Devon turned away from me and buried his face in Madlen’s skirts again.
“How old are you?” I asked him. “Certainly too old to hide in a woman’s skirts.” My voice sounded strange and broken. I had become unaccustomed to speaking to the living. I spoke to ghosts all the time. They never answered me, but I kept trying. Was I mad too, then?
With a nervous tremor in her lips, she patted the boy on his shoulder. “Your uncle is speaking to you, Devon. Tell him how old you are.”
With a sullen expression, he held up four fingers. What irony! While my sister endured the shame of Champion’s assault, our “brother” had married and had a son? Why should I feel anything for his son? I had not made up my mind what to do yet when Madlen hurried on. “His mother is missing, and I fear the worst, sir. Mr. Dufresne is gone much of the time, and is drunk when he returns home. He has proven to be a violent and unpredictable man. His poor wife, Mrs. Dufresne, has been harmed many times since my arrival. I cannot say if even she is alive.”
“This is no surprise to me, Miss Auer, but I wonder why you would come to me? I am the least likely person to care about Champion Dufresne or his son. Or even his wife for that matter? Why did you come here, madam?”
Madlen licked her dry lips. Her hair had come loose from her bun and hung around her face in dirty ropes of curls. Her pale skin was so pale that it appeared almost blue. Perhaps that is merely a trick of the light. She was breathless and dirty, as was the boy. Had they run here from Thorn Hill? They must have, for I saw no carriage and no horse. In fact, their shoes were caked in red dirt and mud. The proper thing to do would be to offer some water, but I was not much of a proper man as of late.
She continued undaunted, “Please do not send us back, for I fear there is something worse in that house than your brother.”
That comment caused me to pause. I was a believer in ghosts and devils. Many sailed through these halls, and I had heard that it was the same at Thorn Hill. “Tell me,” I insisted, “what you mean?”
“I see a man, and he—it—pretends to be Mr. Dufresne, but it is not him. He appears in my room and sometimes in the nursery.” Madlen tugged at her dress collar as if she wanted to pull it as tight as possible. As if she remembered something she wished to forget. An unholy handling, perhaps. How could she know about that? My sister used to cry to my mother and tell similar stories. In my younger days I considered them the ramblings of a nervous girl, but tragic events in my own life led me to believe otherwise. Still, accepting her words as truth would put me in an awkward position. If I believed her I would have to act upon that belief, and that was not something I was prepared to do yet.
“Why is all this my concern, Miss Auer?” I leaned back in my red velvet chair and watched the candle flicker in the breeze. The foyer smelled dirty; it suggested a layer of filth much deeper than a bit of grit and grime, much more than an unswept floor or two. It smelled as if Death were settling in, making itself at home here at Sugar Hill. Ah, how suitable. How appropriate that Death would take up residence here. My mind wandered for a moment, but the woman and child did not leave, did not flee my presence. I examined my dirty fingernails before she said, “I would speak to you further, Mr. Dufresne, but not with the child present. He has been through enough, with his mother missing and a madman for a father.”
“That is unfortunate, but the child should know what a rotten bastard his father has become and what a truly black-hearted villain he is.” I leaned forward, and Madlen put her hands on Devon’s shoulders. She was undoubtedly thinking this was a mistake, that she should not have come here. She was correct.
“You care nothing for your own flesh and blood? Nothing for an innocent child? Then you are both mad. It is true what they say.” She rose from her chair, her eyes wet with tears, her voice broken.
“And what is that, Miss Auer? What do they say about me?”
“That the Dufresnes are cursed! That a demon stalks this family, and that your mother made a deal with the devil.”
If she believed her words would shock me, she was mistaken. I knew better than anyone living, except perhaps Annalee, how cursed we were, but it was not my mother’s fault. That this strange woman would believe such a thing stirred a perverse pleasure within me.
As they say, misery loves company, and oh, I was a miserable one.
“Take this boy back to his father and leave Thorn Hill behind, Miss Auer. Leave Belle Fontaine while you still can, for what they say is true.” I rose from my chair now too. “There are demons. And they are here at Sugar Hill, and also at Thorn Hill, and they will find this boy. They will break his bones and lick out the marrow. They’ll crush him, drain all happiness from him and leave him wishing as he had never been born.” I stomped toward them to do what I do not know.
As if the heavens or the pits of hell agreed with me, heavy fists banged on my front door. Madlen Auer screamed, and the boy ran away from the sound. I waved them back and grabbed my gun.
“Go! Find a place to hide!”
Let this be our final exchange, brother!
As soon as Madlen and Devon disappeared from sight, I reached for the doorknob and raised my gun.
Let this be the end! Brother or no, you will die tonight, Champion Dufresne!
Chapter One
Avery Dufresne
Present Day
My fingers furiously tapped the desk in my office at Thorn Hill, and Reed sighed as if I were the class dunce and he the all-knowing, wise professor. Yes, he was being patient with me, and again, it was the kind of patience one displayed when dealing with someone who was too stupid to understand a rudimentary concept like one plus one equals two. But this problem wasn’t quite as simple as that. I couldn’t believe he was challenging me on so important a subject. We’d only been married for two weeks, and we already disagreed on a major issue. This did not bode well for our future.
Our friend Jessica Chesterfield had disappeared. She’d vanished in front of two hundred people at the Starlight Ball and had not returned. From what Summer relayed to us, Jessica had become obsessed with Dominick Dufresne, a relative of mine from the 19th century. She claimed to have met him and that she loved him. Convinced that she needed to shield Dominick from certain disaster, Jessica had sought a way back. As strange as that was, she believed every bit of it, and we’d found her shocking video testifying to it. From the first time I played it until the most recent review, I could not hide my surprise. Jessica’s face was so peaceful, her expression determined. This was what she wanted but how could this possible? Ghosts? Yes, I believed in all
sorts of spirits. Going back to live in another time? No. That couldn’t be real.
I want to be with Dominick. I’m going to find a way.
Yes, I believed in ghosts. I believed in many things, but going back in time? Whatever happened to my friend, I had to get to the truth. Maybe it was the reporter in me, and maybe it was just because I was Vertie’s granddaughter. I didn’t know what was driving me, but I had to try. The cops sure didn’t seem to care, and Summer just gave up. I swear her action or lack thereof frustrated me more than anyone else’s. She basically declared the search for our haunted friend moot and that Jessica was no more. Summer didn’t say why she believed that, other than a shrug and some muttering about a feeling. That wasn’t good enough for me. Jessica deserved to be found.
“We owe her this, Reed. Jessica saved me. If she hadn’t come to Thorn Hill, if she hadn’t intervened, I don’t know where I would be. And she only came to Alabama for our wedding. Don’t you think we should turn over every rock?”
Reed smiled patiently, and it grated on my nerves. “Yes, I believe in turning over every rock, but this one? Inviting paranormal investigators back to Sugar Hill doesn’t feel like the wisest course of action. We have not had good experiences with that type of interaction, Avery. In case you forgot. Can’t we give it some time?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything. What do you suggest we do then? Nothing? How much time?”
Now it was Reed’s turn to get angry. “That’s not what I said at all, and you know it.”
“I’m not sure I do know it. Give me another suggestion, Reed. We’ve got cops and detectives up the yin-yang and nothing to show for it. Not a single clue except that video and the eyewitness testimony of about two hundred people. She vanished. She disappeared. In our ballroom!” He didn’t answer me. “Jessica’s parents deserve to know what happened to her, Reed.”
My husband sank back in the light brown leather chair, looking deflated. He’d given up. I knew that about him. I could read his tells. Reed would make a terrible poker player. “Fine, Avery. You do what you want, you’re going to anyway. But don’t blame me if they stir something up. There’s no telling what else is walled up around here.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say. Horrible! Why would you say that?”
“I mean, the Lovely Man, Avery. What if they stir him up again? That’s all I meant.”
I looked him squarely in the eye and said, “That spirit is gone. His power is broken, Reed, and he can’t come back. Remember?” I sank back down in my chair feeling slightly winded, and the pain in my leg returned. I couldn’t believe I broke my leg on my honeymoon. I wonder where I put my pain medicine?
“Don’t sound so disappointed, Avery.” With that, he stalked out of my office. He knew I couldn’t chase him, not with this cast on my leg. What exactly was he insinuating? That I wanted Ambrose to return? I glanced down at the ring I inherited from my great-aunt. This little heirloom had tied all the Matrones to Ambrose, or the Lovely Man as the superstitious among us called him. Saying his name aloud supposedly drew him to you. What was I saying? Of course, it drew him. I knew the power of calling on him, of spinning the ring and feeling it warm at the thought of him. Yes, my ring had once been a powerful item. The ring slipped off my finger easily now, and I sighed as I slid it back on. Once upon a time, the ring had been immovable, at least until the wearer was near death.
The Lovely Man’s power was no more. Whatever magic tied us together had been broken.
And to my utter horror, I knew Reed was right, although I would never admit that to another living soul. Especially not him. Even after everything—Jamie’s suicide, Summer’s departure from Sugar Hill, the death of Handsome Cheever, and now Jessica’s disappearance—the loss of Ambrose saddened me. But why? I had everything a woman could want. A handsome husband, great wealth. I owned not one but two old historic homes and led a large, tight-knit family with a fine old name.
But Ambrose…
I hated myself for this strange sadness. Ambrose Dufresne had stolen so much from us all. How could I miss that murderous ghost?
You’re sick in the head, Avery. That’s how.
I shook away the image of his dark hair falling across his warm eyes, the sight of his red lips curled up in a smile. This strange feeling was further proof that we needed help.
I picked up the phone and called Mike DeLuca, Jessica’s former boss at My Haunted Plantation. He’d taken her disappearance hard and had wanted to investigate Sugar Hill for clues from the beginning, but the board of trustees had not been willing to grant him permission. But I didn’t give a damn now. I had veto power. I was the Matrone, the leader of our large, demanding family, and this was my decision to make. The only person who could truly overrule me was Summer, and she’d left for Georgia soon after Jessica disappeared. One of the detectives investigating Jessica’s case had the nerve to suggest that perhaps Summer had been involved in our friend’s situation. How in the world could she have pulled that off? I didn’t know a soul that could make a whole person disappear in front of a ballroom full of people. Nobody.
“Mike? This is Avery Dufresne. It’s a go. We’ve decided to allow you access to investigate Sugar Hill. When can you get started?”
“I can be there in the morning, Avery. Thank you.” He sounded stunned to hear from me.
“One condition, though.” I chewed my lip. “I want to be in on the investigation.”
Mike paused and then said, “I don’t know, Avery. Didn’t you break your leg? How are you going to do that?”
I rubbed the cast. “Yes, I broke it, but I can still get around. I have a chair and crutches.”
“That might not be a good idea. Not only that, but what with your family history and all and your sensitivity. You know, with the ring and the…”
“Stop hedging, Mike. You sound like Reed. Look, I want to find Jessica too. I want to help. I need to do this. I know that I have some sort of weird energy. Maybe you can use it. I want to try. I have to give it a try.”
Mike sighed, and I tried not to think about how much he really did sound like Reed just now. Was I getting on everyone’s nerves or what? Too bad. I was still the Matrone, and Sugar Hill was my property. “I guess we could use your help in some kind of way, Avery, but safety comes first. I’m not willing to put you at risk, not if there’s something funky going on down there.”
“I understand. Thanks, Mike. Call me when you make it into town. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” He hung up, apparently eager to pack and get on the road. I chewed my bottom lip and slid the wheelchair out from under the desk. I wasn’t a pro at navigating this thing, but I would rather die than ask Reed to help me right now. I mumbled to myself, thinking about how I would handle the fight that was coming. I had no illusions about this. Reed was a lawyer, and he wasn’t going to fold up like a cheap suit. I wished to God he’d see reason.
With a few bumps and false starts, I managed to guide the chair out from behind the desk. My thoughts were interrupted by a strange sound in the hallway. I heard a small child crying, but there weren’t any children at Thorn Hill. I ran through a quick checklist of possible suspects. The child sounded too young to be Dolly Jane, and she hadn’t been here for days.
“Hello?” I called as I pushed the chair toward the door. I paused, but the heartbreaking crying continued. It was coming from the hallway. I opened the door, eased the chair back, and craned my neck around the door. There was no child in the hallway.
There was no one at all. Just the faint aroma of spicy cologne and cigarettes.
An aroma I knew all too well.
Ambrose!
Chapter Two
Arnold Lee
His head felt woozy like that time he had the flu. If he concentrated really hard, squinted his eyes and got really still, Arnold Lee could almost hear the lady singing. He couldn’t understand why he could not hear her clearly since he’d never had this problem before. Whenever the lady sang to him, her songs had alwa
ys been crystal clear. He listened as hard as he could because he felt he ought to hear her, but he couldn’t hear a single note.
“Come on, son. Daddy’s got you now.” Arnold Lee’s father picked him up from the bed, and he tried to answer him. He thought he said, “Okay, Daddy,” but his lips wouldn’t move. It was like he was stuck inside his body. He could think but not speak or move or even cry…and the funny thing was, it didn’t bother him at all. Maybe he would float away like a feather or a balloon. And maybe he would float all the way up to heaven. Yeah, that would be cool because he would see his grandfather if he went to heaven. Daddy felt tense, and his voice sounded broken just like that horrible day when he told Arnold Lee Grandpa had died.
“What did you do to my son, Alice Marie?”
“He’ll be fine, Lucas. The doctor said he might have to adjust the medication to get it right, but he’s just fine. Leave him be! I’m not letting you take him from me.”
Arnold Lee could hear them arguing, but his father never let him go, and he was glad. He liked it at his father’s house. The house used to belong to his grandfather, and there was so much to explore and memories of Grandpa in every corner. Arnold Lee loved the old silver refrigerator where he hung his artwork. And the lady sang better there too. He would hear her clearly there for sure. Arnold Lee loved his mother, but she made him feel like he was bad all the time. He couldn’t help it if he heard the special songs. His mother didn’t like most of his pictures either, especially when he drew pictures of the girl with sad eyes and now the little boy. No, she did not like seeing any of his artwork unless it was a picture of a cat or a dog or a house or something else boring.
His parents were tussling again. “You hit me one more time, Alice Marie, and I’ll have you arrested. I mean it.”
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