by Julie Leto
Jacob, on the other hand, had proclaimed himself Wiccan, Goth and anything else that would drive his parents crazy. After college, he’d stopped trying to shock everyone. Alexa had figured he’d finally grown out of his rebellious stage. Cunningly, he’d let the inky dye fade out of his brown hair, gave up lining his icy blue eyes with black kohl, and traded his favorite black duster jacket and Nazi storm trooper boots for Armani suits and Bruno Magli shoes just long enough to land himself in her daddy’s will. Which was why she had to deal with him on a regular basis.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “I told you I could handle this situation on my own.”
He had an unnerving habit since the accident of following her around like a guard dog, despite the fact that she’d given him an entire division of established, top-performing hotels to supervise. She’d survived the car wreck, even if his mother and her father had not. Therapy for her concussion, punctured lung and broken thighbone had been a bitch, but she’d recovered with even more strength—and determination—than she’d had before.
Jacob shrugged in that boyish way that made her forget he was nearly thirty years old. “Things are running like clockwork as usual. But I’m bored. I need a challenge.”
“You can always look into that ski lodge in Utah.”
He scrunched his nose. “Too many Mormons in Utah.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Yes, they do tend to gravitate there.” And the good Lord knew that Mormons weren’t her stepbrother’s speed.
“Let me help you here,” he said, his tone vaguely whiny. “I am the one who brought you the deed. I didn’t have to, you know.”
She supposed he didn’t. He’d taken his mother’s death pretty hard—harder than she’d expected for all the tension that existed between the two of them. Apparently, he’d waited until recently to go through the last of her effects, and Alexa supposed that if he had wanted to be cruel, he could have kept the deed to himself. But while Jacob had nearly always been a pain in her ass, he’d never been underhanded or mean.
“Come on, sis,” he pleaded. “I can make myself more useful with your spooky castle than I can approving budgets for bed linens. With your knowledge of hotels and mine of all things mysterious, we can build a property that will make our competitors weep with envy.”
Jacob’s grin quirked up on the right side of his face and his eyes glittered. They might not have been related by blood, but Alexa couldn’t deny that they both suffered from a condition that caused hot flashes at the possibility of growing their portfolios.
“Yes, well, I can’t make any decisions until I see the place close-up,” Alexa said, wearing her most unengaged expression. She didn’t want anyone, even her stepbrother, to know how desperately she wanted this venture to work out. “But since you’re here, you can at least come with me. I hate flying.”
Alexa’s father had taught her everything he knew about hotels in particular, but also about business in general. He’d also insisted that a smart woman adhered to the old adage of keeping her friends close and her enemies closer. She wasn’t exactly sure where her stepbrother fell most of the time, but as she was on the brink of a spectacular opportunity, she’d rather not take any chances.
At least not until she arrived on the island.
2
Air rushed into Damon’s lungs, nearly choking him. His eyes flew open and he was partially blinded by the sudden light. Had it happened? Had he finally crossed over from the plane of his punishment into hell, where he belonged?
A soft mewling at his ankles convinced him he still was not dead. At least not entirely. And he couldn’t suppress a wave of disappointment, an undercurrent against his natural instinct to survive.
He looked down, not surprised to see a long-haired black cat circling his ankles. He kicked out, but the animal merely burst into a cloud of smoke and seconds later reformed into the crafty feline he was.
“Away, beast.”
The cat stared at him with amber eyes flecked with gold, eyes that, perhaps, didn’t look so evil after all these centuries.
Damon bent down. The cat disappeared. A split second later he felt a warm, furry weight in his arms.
“You enjoy taunting me,” Damon said to the cat.
The creature replied by purring and rubbing its flattened face against his arm.
The cat’s rumbling vibrations brought Damon a peace he did not deserve. He preferred the state of dormancy he fell into every hundred years or so. Drowsy. Still. Forgetful. Dead, and yet…not. A phantom, unable to escape from a prison of his own making.
For long periods of time, he couldn’t remember exactly what or who he was, why he was trapped in a world that consisted of little more than a drawing room, a doorway that led to nowhere and a window that looked out on nothing. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he remembered a time when he’d been whole. Virile. Strong. Solid.
And ultimately, cursed.
He remembered a sorcerer. A missing sister. Brothers dispersed into a storm in search of their wayward sibling. A storm. And magic most evil.
But beyond that, his brain felt too taxed to work out the details. How could the particulars matter after all this time?
And yet…
What was the smell suddenly invading his nostrils? He breathed in deeply. The cat meowed. Sea salt? He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds teasing the edge of his consciousness. Waves? How could that be? There was no ocean near Valoren. Had he transported back to his beloved England? Or was he somewhere new?
Another sound sent him bolt upright, and after a moment, his surroundings solidified. The brushstrokes faded and his sense of the furnishings in the room sharpened. He could feel the carpet beneath his boots, smell the smoke from the torch in the sconce and the melting wax from the candle above the unlit fireplace. The atmosphere became suddenly dank and cloying, causing his linen stock to chafe against his neck. He reached around and undid the ties, his hand brushing against his long hair, bound with a black strip of leather. Was it his imagination or was he still damp from his ride in the storm?
A loud chopping noise drew his attention away from the state of his body and clothes. Despite the cat purring in his arms, Damon stalked to the window. He tore aside the heavy drapery, shocked that the view outside was no longer blank canvas. Below, angry waves crashed against a shore of sharp boulders at the base of the castle. Blue skies, devoid of clouds, gleamed all around him. And then swooping in from above him, something hovered in the sky. The sun glanced off the monstrosity, forcing Damon to look away. The cat scrambled out of his arms, arching and hissing, its claws sharp through his sleeves.
Damon froze, enthralled. The metallic bird turned, and through what looked like glass, he saw a woman trapped inside the belly of the beast. He reached out to brace himself on the window, but his hand slipped straight through.
Yet no glass shattered.
Damon jerked away from the window, his breath sapped and his eyes clearly deceiving him.
“Where am I?”
He shouted his question, but just like every other demand he’d made since his entrapment, this one went unanswered.
“Did you see that?” Alexa said, her heart clenched in her chest. She almost couldn’t breathe, but she wasn’t sure if her reaction was from the dizzying, bumpy movement of the helicopter or the flash of a face she’d seen in the window of the supposedly abandoned castle—followed by a solid hand materializing, briefly, on the outside of the window and then disappearing from sight.
“See what?” Jacob replied.
Alexa removed her headset, adjusted her sunglasses and looked again. The noise of the helicopter was deafening, but she ignored the pulse against her eardrums. The curtain inside the window had fluttered shut. The glass was old but surprisingly clean of grit and grime—and unbroken.
Her skin crawled with memories. Having Jacob as her stepbrother and Cat as her best friend ensured that Alexa had seen all manner of odd things in her lifetime. Some easily expl
ainable. Others not so much.
And this time, she’d seen a man.
Hadn’t she?
She replaced her headphones. “Can you bring us any closer?”
The pilot responded quickly. “Negative. The wind is picking up. Ms. Chandler, we need to go back.”
“Not yet.”
“Alexa, I’d prefer not to die out here. You’ve seen the castle. The structure looks sound. Let’s go back,” Jacob insisted.
His face had turned a pasty white. And she was the one who hated flying?
“Circle the island one more time,” she ordered the pilot. “There has to be a place to land.”
The pilot complied, just as she knew he would, thanks to the more than generous incentive she’d offered him after takeoff to land safely and allow her to explore the island. Every nerve ending in her body flared and quivered. Imagined man in the window or not, Alexa planned to survey the inside of her castle. Today.
She grabbed the seat as the pilot swerved into a turn. Once more, he remained high above the trees, brush and bushes that filled the area between the reputed stone wall and the house. In many places, they couldn’t see any hint that the wall still existed. For all she knew, the salt air had broken down the stones until nothing existed to keep her out of the castle—if only they could find a place to land.
Jacob scooted away from her, flipped aside the microphone hanging near his lips and muttered, his mouth against the glass. She rolled her eyes. Let him pout.
Since she’d ordered the pilot to search for a place to land, circumnavigating the island took a little over five minutes. The pilot’s voice crackled over the headset when a strong wind slammed the helicopter. They dropped ten feet. Alexa screamed. Jacob seemed frozen in his spot until the pilot regained control and lifted the helicopter back to its original altitude.
“Sorry, folks. Man, that gust came out of nowhere. Ms. Chandler, I’d love that bonus, but it isn’t going to be worth much if the chopper goes down permanently. Maybe we can come out earlier tomorrow, get a better look….”
Despite the direct input into her ears, the pilot’s words faded as Alexa stared out the window. A cluster of tall palms bent backward in acquiescence to the blustery air. In the cleared space, she saw something that everyone had told her didn’t exist.
A lagoon.
“Jacob!”
She grabbed his sleeve. He slid over to her side of the seat. She pointed. His eyes widened.
“You’re right, Captain,” Alexa said, nearly unable to contain the bubbles of excitement popping inside her. “Let’s head back to the airport. I think this challenge is best attacked by sea.”
The minute Alexa stepped onto the tarmac, she cursed herself for sending Catalina to Texas in pursuit of the documentation on Valoren. If her friend had been in the chopper, she could have verified what Alexa had thought she’d seen. Or, perhaps, what she actually had seen, but was having trouble wrapping her mind around.
A man. A flash of a man.
A man whose hand had solidified on the other side of an unbroken window, and then, just as shockingly, disappeared.
A man…or a ghost?
She swallowed hard. She’d wanted a haunted castle, hadn’t she? She had no business getting all freaked out and scared now.
Behind her, Jacob was in deep conversation with the pilot. She scurried through the executive airport and into the waiting limousine. Using her satellite phone, she dialed her private plane and was immediately patched in to Cat.
“We haven’t landed in Texas yet,” Catalina announced, sounding amused by Alexa’s eagerness.
“Not why I’m calling,” Alexa replied, fully aware she was about to knock the humor out of Cat’s attitude. “We made it close enough to the castle to see into a window. And I think”—she took a deep breath—“I saw someone.”
“Someone?”
“A man.”
“Inside?” Cat asked.
He’d worn white. The image suddenly flashed in her mind. A white shirt. Long sleeves. “The place is supposed to be deserted. I only caught a glimpse, but I swear, there was a man inside my castle. And his hand…”
She recounted what she’d seen. The thrill tripping through Alexa’s bloodstream caused her to shiver deliciously. Driven by excitement, curiosity and fear, her emotions skimmed just beneath the surface of her skin. Her body zipped with an electric current she didn’t think she’d ever felt before.
The connection crackled. “No one pays much attention to that island,” Cat reasoned. “You could just have a squatter.”
“And the hand?”
“The sun is bright. It could have been an optical illusion or your overactive imagination.”
Alexa smirked. “Or a ghost.”
Realizing she wasn’t entirely alone in the car with the driver at his post in the front seat, Alexa raised the glass partition.
“That’s your first guess?” Cat asked. “You’re starting to sound like your brother, always jumping to the occult to explain a simple anomaly.”
Alexa whistled out a breath. She couldn’t argue. Cat was right. “Explain the disembodied hand.”
Cat remained silent.
Alexa cleared her throat. “I know I sound crazy, but I’ve had the oddest feelings about this place since Jacob brought me the deed. And what with all the legends and rumors…maybe I’m caught up in the hype, but could you imagine? A real ghost?”
Cat still didn’t respond, and Alexa realized she’d probably scared her best friend half to death. Cat had seen many people slip over the sharp edge that separated reality from fantasy. She wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Cat ordered Alexa’s pilot to turn the plane around immediately so she could return to Florida and slap some sense into her.
“Yeah, I can more than imagine,” Cat said. “However, I can’t help but kick around a few more earthly scenarios that include a serial killer hiding out in your castle, not some soul who hasn’t crossed over.”
“Well, I’ll find out soon enough.”
“I thought the island was inaccessible,” Cat reminded her.
“During our flyover, we found a small lagoon. All I need is a boat, and I’m on my way.”
“Take someone with you,” Cat warned.
Alexa glanced out the car window and spotted Jacob moving toward the limo. “Jacob’s with me.”
“Take someone else.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. Four years and these two still couldn’t shut off the antagonism. “Right now, he’s all I’ve got. Besides, I can take care of myself. And oddly enough, I’m not afraid.”
“That’s what scares me most, mija. That’s what scares me most.”
Cat disconnected the call, sat back in the plush seat of Alexa’s corporate jet and considered canceling her research trip to Texas. But by the time she landed in Florida again, Alexa would have already stormed willingly into a potentially dangerous situation. Though Cat didn’t trust Jacob as far as she could throw him, she had to admit that to date, he’d been very protective of his stepsister, as if his narcissistic brain somehow registered that Alexa was the only family he had left.
And Alexa wasn’t exaggerating when she said she could take care of herself. Cat had sparred with her enough times at the dojang to know her friend could fight. Maybe not with a crazed serial killer, but Cat had learned long ago that despite her intrinsic abilities to catch visions of the future, she couldn’t alter the destiny of her friends, her family.
Or, most especially, herself.
Once fate cast its lot, nothing and no one could change the outcome, even when the outcome meant tragedy.
3
“There’s no one here, ma’am.”
Alexa glanced over her shoulder, her lips pursed and her jaw tight, as the Coast Guard seaman shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with breaking the news. The discovery wasn’t unexpected. The minute she’d squeezed through a crack in the wall, broken through the sixty-year-old padlock on the front door and witnessed si
x decades’ worth of dust and sand on the cracked stone floors of the castle, Alexa had known no one had been inside.
No one corporeal, at least.
At Jacob’s insistence, she’d allowed the crew of the closest Coast Guard UTB to escort the boat they’d chartered to the island and search for possible trespassers. Now that they’d completed their mission, she wanted them gone. She had exploring of her own to do, starting with the lone furnishing—a painting hanging alone on the landing above the grand staircase.
A painting that had captured her interest as if the man in the portrait had reached out from the canvas and was even now curling his fingers in a silent, rhythmic beckoning.
She gave the seaman a curt nod and returned her gaze to the portrait. Despite the dust and the cobwebs, the man in the oil on canvas was nothing short of magnificent. Piercing eyes the color of a storm-tossed ocean—a swirling mix of green and gray—stared straight into her. His hair, long, deep chocolate brown, seemed to have caught an unexplainable wind in a drawing room decorated with candle and torchlight. As if wet, his stark white shirt and scarlet waistcoat molded to his skin. A single droplet of water slid down his square jaw, threatening to splash down at any moment.
The artist’s realism stunned her. The plush face of the cat on his lap. The velvety folds of the cloak tossed carelessly across the back of an ornate chair. Even the fired tips of the candles in the sconces blurred as if photographed rather than painted. The fact that the portrait was the only furnishing in the castle further piqued her interest. Had the mysterious builder in the forties reconstructed the abandoned German castle simply to house a single piece of artwork that no one would see?
“Time to go, Alexa,” Jacob announced after the rest of the Coast Guard contingent had congregated in the foyer.
“No,” she said.
“What?”
He marched up the stairs. She could hear his loafers crackling across the layer of sand encrusted on the floor.