The stacks of the library seemed dimmer than usual, and it was distinctly chilly, as if the heat was broken again. Silver paid no mind and wandered among the narrow aisles and tall shelves. The spines of the books here were oddly difficult to read. What language was this section? It all looked like nonsense to Silver, who kept walking, despite a little fear that something was wrong.
“Miss Salem?” The voice seemed to come from very far away. “Silver!”
She turned, but saw no one in the aisle. Only her and thousands of books. She walked on.
“Silver, stop!”
She hesitated, unsure of what she ought to do, or if she ought to do anything.
“Wake up, Silver. Is this a joke?”
Answering that was too difficult, and she had a book to find. She walked on.
But not for long. Someone held her, pulling her to a halt. The temperature rose sharply then, and she sighed, enjoying the warmth.
No, not warmth. Heat. Fire?
She gasped, coming fully awake. Someone was kissing her. And not just anyone.
Coll.
Before she knew what she was doing, her tongue flicked upward to taste him.
Coll drew back as if burned. “What are you doing?” he gasped.
“Me?” Silver gasped. “I wake up to find you kissing me in my bedroom…” She looked around, confused. “Or…not in my bedroom…”
In fact, they both stood on the sand dunes. Hill House was several hundred yards away. “What’s happening? Am I awake?”
“I hope so,” he said. “You were sleepwalking,”
“Why did you kiss me?”
“I couldn’t wake you up! I had to try something—don’t kisses wake princesses up in fairy tales?” he said defensively. “I could barely get you to stop walking. You went right through the gate. If I hadn’t heard the front door open, and your cat yowling, you might have wandered all the way to the water.”
And drowned. Silver shivered in fear, realizing how deep in the dreamworld she’d been.
“In my dream,” she said, “I was looking for something. A book, I think. In a library. But I just kept walking and walking through these long aisles, and up and down stairs…” The dunes, the elevation. The dream explained it away. “I don’t sleepwalk, Coll. Never.” She shivered again, cold mixed with fear of what had happened.
Coll took her into his arms once more. “Don’t worry about it now. We’ve got to get you back into the house. It’s freezing, and you’re barely dressed.”
She wore only her long white nightgown. Now fully awake, Silver was mortified at her behavior and her appearance. She might as well be wearing a tent.
But Coll didn’t even seem to notice. He kept one strong arm around her as he hustled her back to the house. In the living room, he sat her down on a sofa and wrapped a blanket around her. Silver clutched the blanket around her body, trying to disappear within it.
“Stay there,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
As he turned away, Piewicket streaked into the room and pawed anxiously at Silver’s leg.
What happened? I woke and you were gone. I had to yell for him to follow you!
“I guess I was sleepwalking.”
Nonsense.
Silver picked up the cat and settled her onto her lap, relishing the feline warmth. “I don’t know, Pie. I was dreaming.”
Coll returned with two bottles. “Whisky or brandy?”
“Alcohol’s still illegal,” she reminded him.
“Not in my basement. You need something, so pick one.”
“Whisky?” she guessed.
He nodded and poured two glasses, handing her one. “Medicinal. Drink up.”
She took a sip, the unfamiliar alcohol burning her throat.
Coll, however, polished his off and poured another. He sat beside her.
“So you don’t sleepwalk,” he said.
“No.” Silver was distracted by his nearness. She also noticed that he was fully dressed. “Were you even asleep?” she asked. “It’s late.”
“Insomnia,” he said shortly. “Good thing, too.”
“Thank you,” she told him. “I don’t know what happened.”
“How could you? You were unconscious.” Coll looked over at her, then reached to touch a lock of dark hair falling over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” he said, absently. His expression softened, and warmed into something else. Interest? In Silver?
As he touched her hair, the backs of his fingers grazed her breast, and Silver nearly stopped breathing. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly dressed for company, you know,” she reminded him, falling back on ever reliable sarcasm.
He made a mmm sound, but then dropped his hand, recalling the situation.
“What am I supposed to do about this?” he continued. “There’s no way to stop you from sleepwalking again, short of putting a lock on the outside of you door. I doubt that option is acceptable to either of us.”
“I’ll think of something,” Silver said. She pet Piewicket, who remained in her lap. “Perhaps Pie will claw me if I do it again.”
I’d prefer not to.
“You’d better come up with some sort of solution. Seeing you out there… I nearly had a heart attack.” He took another, slower sip of his drink.
“Perhaps it won’t happen again at all. I assure you it’s not typical. I’ve just been so focused on my work…”
“Then you need a rest,” he declared. “Tomorrow, you’re not to translate a single word.”
“But you said you need the spell as soon as possible.”
“Not at the cost of your life, Silver.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m dead serious.” He put his empty glass down. “You need to stay safe, and sane.”
Coll walked her back up to her bedroom and told her good night. She dutifully locked the door and placed the key on the window moulding across the room, hoping that she’d be unable to unlock the door should another bout of sleepwalking occur.
She returned to bed before she realized Coll had called her Silver and she didn’t even mind.
He also kissed her, and in retrospect, she should have paid more attention to that. She only wished he’d done so because he wanted to.
* * * *
The day after her sleepwalking incident, Coll reminded her to take the day off. “Why not go for a walk on the shore?” he suggested. “You’ll sleep better if you’re not cooped up here all the time.”
She took his advice, mostly because she doubted he’d physically let her onto the third floor if she tried to go. The day was sunny but brisk, so Silver put on a long sleeved blouse, her heavy wool skirt, and belted a cardigan around her waist before she put on her coat. With her hat and gloves, she was quite ready to brave the Atlantic breeze in October.
As she walked down the hill to the town and the boardwalk, Silver felt an acute sense of isolation. Here was a town in which she knew nobody and nobody knew her. She had spent days virtually alone in Dunne’s house, yet it was out here among the sunshine and the normal village sounds that she felt lonely.
Today, at least, the spookiness of the town was gone. People were out and about on business. Several shops were open along Salt Street and Ocean Street, the two main thoroughfares paralleling the ocean boardwalk. Silver nodded politely to the few people who greeted her, but said nothing more than “Good day.” Other than a curious glance or two, no one seemed to wonder why she was there. Perhaps the town attracted tourists even in the off-season. Silver remembered that Seagrove was founded as a sort of “spa” town, with baths and services aimed at the sickly who hoped the fresh sea air would restore them.
And perhaps it did. Silver felt much better after walking from one end of the boardwalk to the other. She wandered onto the beach, going all the way to where the low tide left the sand strewn with shells and smooth pebbles. Silver spent a pleasant hour beachcombing, looking in particular for the pretty quartz stones kn
own as “cape diamonds.” She’d amassed quite a few by the time she returned to the boardwalk.
She stopped in a little cafe for a sandwich and some tea, then wandered along the town streets, looking at all the houses, which were Victorian in style but scaled quite small, most only a story or two tall. Nearly every house was painted brightly, or featured a contrasting color. In all, the place was as cheerful as one could hope for. Silver mentally compared the place to the massive Hill House, and wondered how the town even permitted Dunne to keep the old place, unpainted and shabby looking as it was.
When the sun started to slip down in the sky, Silver decided to return home. No, not home, she reminded herself. Her client’s house, where she was merely visiting.
The whistle of the train caught her attention. She watched the sleek beast pulling away from the station. She was surprised when she felt no urge to be on it, but then, she was eager to solve the puzzle of Dunne’s spellbook.
She just turned away from the station when a gentleman’s hat blew past her skirts, like an East Coast tumbleweed. Silver chased it down where it came to rest in some dune grasses, then looked around for the owner.
A tall, striking man was walking toward her. “Excuse me!” he called, sounding quite unconcerned. “Stop that runaway!”
Silver smiled and held the hat up. “Are you looking for this?”
He hurried the rest of the way and retrieved the hat from her, putting it on his head so he could immediately take it off again in greeting.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “Baker’s the name. I must thank you for your service. This little miscreant would have got clean away if not for your vigilance.”
“No trouble at all, Mr. Baker,” Silver assured him.
“And who do I have the honor to address?”
“I am Miss Salem,” she said.
“Eternally grateful, Miss Salem.” He put his hat on again. “If I may beg one more service, could you point the way to my destination?”
“I’m not a local, but I shall try.”
“I’m to meet my friend here in town. He lives at a place called Hill House.”
“You know Mr. Dunne?” Silver gave the man another look, now more intrigued. Baker was older than Dunne, but not by much. It was hard to be sure of his age because Baker was in such good condition. He could be fifty, or even a little older, she thought, looking at his eyes. The suit was expensive, the shoes even more so. In fact, Baker gave off an air of privilege and confidence. She’d seen that combination before—in mages. Silver wondered if he was there to help Dunne with the spellbook as well.
She felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of anyone else being close to Coll, or rather his book.
“Collier Dunne and I go back years!” Baker replied cheerfully. “How did you guess, Miss Salem?”
“He’s the only person I know in town,” Silver admitted, feeling rather shy all of a sudden. What would Baker think of her staying in Dunne’s house? Not that it mattered. Silver was a widow, not some virginal debutante who needed minding. “If you’re looking for Hill House, you may as well join me for the walk back.”
“Delighted, Miss Salem! What a fortuitous circumstance!” Baker offered his arm, which Silver took to be polite. She wasn’t sure what to say to this new gentleman, but it turned out that she didn’t have to say much at all. Baker kept up a stream of stories and witticisms. He was obviously curious about Silver, to judge by his questions, and she ended up telling him quite a bit about herself, though not the reason why she was actually there. Dunne hadn’t given her any warning this man would arrive, so why should she act as secretary? If Dunne had business with Baker, he could conduct it on his own.
But even if she was slightly annoyed at Baker’s sudden appearance, the man himself was very entertaining. She was laughing at one of his stories when the doorway of Hill House came into view.
Coll was standing on the porch, arms crossed, watching as Baker and Silver strolled up arm in arm.
“Collier Dunne!” Baker crowed. “You look like hell, partner!”
“What are you doing here?” Coll asked in a low voice. His gaze slipped to Silver, and she was struck by the iciness in his eyes. It was as if he didn’t even know her.
“Call it a hunch,” Baker replied. He put a hand on Silver’s back and gently pushed her forward. “Did you think I had an inside scoop?”
“Maybe you did,” Coll replied, still staring at Silver.
Baker laughed. “I said to myself, Collier Dunne is back in the States. I’ll go and see my old partner in crime. He’ll be glad to see my face after so long. What’s for dinner? Did you ever plaster up that guest bedroom? I told you to.”
“Miss Salem is staying in the guest room,” Coll said, then added, very unwillingly, “The back bedroom is empty.”
“Ah, it’ll do.” Baker laughed again, then muttered, “Unless I get an invitation to the guest room later, eh?”
He nudged Silver and bounded up the stairs before she fully registered what he’d said. But her outraged gasp wasn’t heard by either man, because they’d already gone into the house.
Did she mishear? Baker hadn’t given her so much as a leer earlier, when they were alone on the path.
Silver stepped onto the porch, her mind working furiously. How had Baker known about the plaster, if he’d never been to Hill House before? Had he lied to her? Why? Who was he?
Inside the house, another confrontation was already underway by the time Silver got there.
Piewicket stood in the front room, all four legs splayed out, her back arched and her fur up. Baker had stopped short, watching the cat warily.
“Got a pet, did you, Dunne?”
“She doesn’t seem to care for you,” Collier replied, not answering the question. “Wonder why.”
“Git,” Baker said, waving the cat away. “Git!”
“Piewicket does not git,” Silver said flatly.
“It will when I say. Dunne, get rid of that thing.”
“Not mine to get rid of,” Coll said, with a hint of satisfaction.
Baker curled a lip up in disgust, then turned to Silver, putting on a smile. “Miss Salem, is this your cat?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Will you kindly remove it from the living room?” He phrased it as a request, but his tone made it sound like an order.
Silver tended to obey such tones, if only to preserve her peace of mind. She walked toward Pie, but the little cat streaked away, dashing under the sofa.
“Well,” said Silver. “I’m afraid that will have to do.”
“How long are you staying?” Coll asked the newcomer, clearly hoping the man wasn’t staying at all.
“Depends. What hijinks are you up to?” Baker gave Coll a smile as cold as the arctic. “More of the same? It won’t change anything, you know.”
“Shut up,” Coll said.
“We can discuss it over dinner,” Baker said, without a trace of dismay. “I’ll change from my traveling outfit. Miss Salem will doubtless want to change too.”
Before Silver could say yes or no, Baker was leading her up the stairs to the second floor. She stiffened at the proprietary attitude, but once they reached the top of the stairs, he only pointed down the hall to her room. “Off you go, Miss Salem. Don’t forget to wash—you’ve got sand in your hair.”
Oh, damn. Silver probably looked like a windblown mess. She went to her room, locking the door after her. She didn’t trust Baker or Coll at this point.
She washed her face and brushed her hair out, distracted the whole time by the arrival of Baker. Who was he? Not a friend, as he claimed. Coll seemed to hate him. But why did he let the man in the house, then? And why did he glare at Silver when they returned? Simply because she’d walked up the road with him? It wasn’t her fault, after all. She didn’t even know the man.
She put on a dress she hadn’t unpacked yet. It was the most formal thing she brought, but she hadn’t thought to use it after discovering j
ust how informally Coll lived. But with Baker, perhaps the shield of formality would help.
She surveyed herself in the full-length mirror in the corner.
It was a lovely dress. The fabric was a pale silk in a blue-green shade that reminded Silver of seafoam. Little iridescent beads were stitched across the fabric at irregular intervals, lending a subtle sparkle. She frowned when she realized how low the neckline dipped. The deep “V” showed off rather more cleavage than she felt comfortable with. Damn that shopgirl for convincing her it would be all right. Not with Coll and Baker at the table, it wouldn’t.
Silver pulled a white shawl from her trunk. It helped, but not that much. Perhaps if she wore her hair down. Yes, that would draw attention away from her chest. Silver fixed her hair as quickly as she could, holding it back with two little pearl combs, but otherwise leaving the dark curls to fall freely.
Before she left the room, her gaze fell on the little pile of cape diamonds she’d collected that day. Next to them lay the bloodstone Coll gave her earlier.
She picked up the prettiest of the quartz pebbles and then the bloodstone as well. She slipped them into the tiny hidden pocket of the dress. She had hunch she’d want something to fidget with tonight.
She walked down to the dining room, hoping she hadn’t held things up. Of course, she had. Both Coll and Baker were seated, not eating, but staring across the table at each other.
“Sorry I’m late,” Silver murmured as she stepped in.
Both men turned. Coll’s eyes widened as he looked her over.
Baker stood up so he could escort her to her seat, a gesture Coll had never offered, and one Silver hadn’t missed until Baker reminded her of how typical it was for a gentleman to seat a lady.
“You look ravishing, dear,” he said as he politely pulled her chair out a bit. “But then, I knew you would.”
Coll’s eyes narrowed at that, but he said nothing.
“Isn’t she remarkable?” Baker asked Coll.
One Touch of Silver Page 4