This Rough Magic

by Heather Graham

  Dustin made an aggravated sound, as if he were about to protest the inspector’s tone. But Carly didn’t need to be defended. She set her hands firmly on her hips. “Oui, monsieur, I do. Protection. Everyone believed something would happen last night, and it did.”

  Geoffrey let out a pained sound. “You should have had your eye on the castle!” Carly told the inspector.

  Now the inspector seemed pained. “We were watching the castle,” he admitted.

  “Then?”

  He shrugged. “I do not know.” He gazed Dustin’s way. “But it seems that the count had an alibi for his time.”

  “Yes, he was with me,” Jasmine said. Carly colored and turned toward Jasmine, for the same words had almost left her own mouth. Jasmine instantly realized her mistake, but it was too late; the inspector was already sniffing as if he smelled something sour—a lie.

  “Well, we were all together for quite some time,” Jasmine said defensively.

  Alexi snorted. “I’d like to hear this.”

  Carly didn’t know whether he had been there all night or had been summoned by the inspector. She turned to face him. “Alexi, you should know something about Tanya’s nightly habits.”

  “What?” His handsome young face flooded with color. He crossed and uncrossed his legs.

  “You were visiting her at night.”

  “What’s this?” the inspector demanded.

  “Carly.” Dustin cleared his throat and rose. “Carly, be careful. You’re making wild accusations.”

  No, she wasn’t. If Dustin wasn’t guilty, then Alexi was. And she desperately wanted Alexi to be guilty. “You were meeting Tanya in her room at night.”

  All eyes were on Alexi. He shook his head fervently. “I was having an affair with her! I would never hurt her. I was mad about Tanya. I’m the only one here who is really injured by her death. I cared for her!”

  “She was wild and impetuous and often cruel,” the inspector said. “Maybe she scorned you. Maybe you killed her for that reason.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Jon is the one who—” He broke off.

  Carly saw that Dustin tensed and rose to come around his desk.

  “Go on, Alexi. I’m waiting. Jon what? I’d like to hear the rest.”

  Alexi shook his head and hung it down. “Nothing. Rien. There is nothing at all.” He turned back to his seat, dejected. Heavy silence fell on the room.

  And then the inspector turned slowly to Dustin. “Count, I will have to ask you to come with me.”

  Carly gasped. Jasmine leaped to her feet. Dustin stiffened, and it took Geoffrey, quiet until now, to offer a protest. “I say there, old boy, you can’t do that. You have no proof whatsoever against Count Vadim, and you can’t go dragging him off like that on idle suspicion.”

  “Count?” the inspector said, ignoring Geoffrey. “You will come with me to the station, please. I have a few more questions.”

  Dustin hesitated. “Of course.”

  The inspector turned to the others. “I may want to speak to you all again, later. Please—”

  “Mais oui, don’t leave the village,” Alexi said bitterly.

  “Non, monsieur,” the inspector replied dryly. “Do not leave the castle. Vous comprenez?”

  No one replied. The inspector rose and Dustin followed, stopping before Carly.

  “Count Vadim?” the inspector said again.

  Dustin’s eyes were on her, golden, glowing. They were the eyes of the wolf, challenging her, searing into her with their glowing fire.

  “Un moment, s’il vous plaît,” he said quietly. He turned around, facing the inspector. “I want a minute alone. If you will all excuse me?”

  Carly was aware of a startled silence, then realized that they were all leaving. She was left alone with Dustin and with the sudden distance that had arisen between them. A distance created by the night, when the man she loved had disappeared with the silence and grace of the silver wolf.

  She had slept with him night after night, she reminded herself. She had found rapture in his arms, tenderness and love and laughter. She had found passion as swift and sure as spreading brushfire, and she had found a man who was sensitive to her every mood.

  Now she faced him with fear and suspicion creating an unbridgeable distance between them.

  She heard the door close softly. They were alone.

  “Where did you go?” she demanded, her eyes on his. She kept her voice low. “Last night, you were gone so long. And there was mud on your slippers. Where did you go?”

  He smiled—or, rather, his lip curled—and his eyes grew cold. “I went for champagne.”

  “And muddied your slippers?”

  He didn’t answer her. He kept his eyes on her, and shrugged. “You believe that I did it. That I sneaked out of the house, found Tanya and murdered her.”

  She shook her head in denial. “I—I don’t know what I believe.”

  “But you didn’t say anything to the inspector.”

  Carly hesitated. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to reach out and fall into his arms, and then she wanted him to give her a foolproof and marvelous explanation of where he had been.

  And why there was mud on his slippers.

  “Dustin—”

  “I came down for champagne, Carly. I stepped outside for a minute. That’s all.”

  He didn’t touch her, and he had no valid explanation. She waited. He set his jaw and said no more.

  There was a rapping at the door. “Count Vadim!” the inspector called. “Time is relevant. Please come along.”

  Then Dustin did touch her. He seized her and drew her against him. “Take care! For the love of God, take care today. Be with someone you trust. Stay near Jasmine. Make sure that you are seen. Do you understand me?”

  He shook her, and she nodded, telling herself he couldn’t be so vehement and also be guilty of the crimes.

  He kissed her, suddenly, savagely. He released her just as the door opened and the inspector stuck his head in. “Count?”

  Dustin stepped back. Carly put her hand to her mouth. Dustin turned, and as she watched his broad-shouldered back disappear, she thought with a sick feeling that the inspector had condemned him—he was, in that man’s eyes at least, guilty beyond a doubt.

  Alone in the library, Carly was forced to make an admission to herself. According to her book, he should be guilty. He’d been gone last night. He’d had the time.

  And he had been in the stables when Jasmine had screamed....

  She swallowed, then decided that she could clear him if she could just get someone to tell her that Dustin hadn’t been there last Halloween, when the first murder had taken place.

  She stepped out of the library. The hallway was empty.

  “Carly!” It was Alexi calling to her.

  She turned around, then shook her head and walked away, her heart pounding. She didn’t want to talk to him. He was the one who’d always been talking about werewolves and lunacy and madness. It had to be him, because it could not be Dustin.

  “Carly!”

  He was following her. Panic seized her. She spun around. “No, Alexi! Leave me alone!”

  She turned and fled. As fast as she could, she headed for the stairs and raced up them. When she reached the landing, she ran straight into Geoffrey.

  “Geoffrey!” she said.

  He caught her and steadied her, smiling. “Sorry. I was just on the phone. Calling home. A bit of a problem, you know.”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t be upset,” he told her. “They can’t hold Jon long.”

  “What?” she murmured vaguely. His use of the name Jon startled her, for she knew that it was Dustin and not Jon Vadim who had just left with the inspector.

  “I said don’t worry—they have no proof. They can’t hold Jon without proof of some kind.”

  She looked at Geoffrey and smiled. She had to know the truth about the previous year. “Geoffrey, can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot
. Oh, bad choice of a word. Well, not that anyone has been shot, but—”

  “Geoffrey, please, it doesn’t matter. What I wanted to know about was last year. Last Halloween. Who was here?”

  “For last year’s party? Oh, well, lots of people. The McCorkindales, Lord and Lady Ashberry, the duke himself, and the duchess, of course, and then there was the American toilet paper manufacturer and—”

  “No, no, I’m sorry. I don’t mean the casual guests. I mean, who was here, like this year? The closer friends. You were here, right? And Tanya and Jon, of course, and—”

  She broke off. She could hear Alexi calling her name again, from below.

  Her blood seemed to chill and congeal. She wanted Alexi to be a murderer, she realized. And yet she had to hear the truth about Dustin.

  Geoffrey stared at her kindly as if he understood her dilemma. He winked. “Let’s dodge the man, shall we? Come. Let’s hurry along.”

  He took her arm, and she offered him a grateful smile. They rushed along the hallway, passing the telephone niche, then Jon Vadim’s room. Carly heard soft words in her sister’s voice. She glanced quickly at Geoffrey, but he apparently hadn’t noticed.

  The real Jon Vadim was in that room, she thought, with her sister. Who was to say that the real Jon was not guilty?

  The real Jon had been with Jasmine last night. Unless Jasmine had lied to Carly and herself and Jon Vadim had disappeared beneath the moonlight, just like Dustin Vadim.

  It ran in the family. Lunacy ran in the family. That was what Alexi had told her.

  And Alexi could have been lying.

  “In here,” Geoffrey said, opening the door to his room. It was large and overlooked the forest, rather than the courtyard. It was a beautiful view. The draperies were open, and Carly could see all the way down the mountain to the chimneys and spires of the houses and churches in the village.

  “How lovely!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes, so much beauty, and so much discord.”

  Carly sobered and turned around. Geoffrey smiled and extended a hand toward two wicker chairs that stood before a table where he had pieces of manuscripts laid out. “I’ve been working, as you can see. And, of course, I know that you’ve been working, too. A good way to spend time.” He shrugged. “Well, have a seat. Where were we? You were asking me something.”

  Carly sat down at the table, and he took the second chair. He folded his hands prayer-fashion and grinned a little sadly. “What was it you were asking?”

  Carly leaned forward, wetting her lips. “Who else was here? Someone who might have been here now, too.”

  Geoffrey thought about it for a minute. He shrugged. “No one.”

  “No one?” A wave of relief rolled over her. Dustin couldn’t be the one.... He hadn’t been here a year ago, so he couldn’t have killed the first girl on that Halloween.

  “Are you...sure?”

  “Of course. People who are here now were here then. There were Jon and I and Alexi. And Jasmine—she is here now. Tanya,” he whispered. “Tanya was here.”

  “No one else.”

  “Oh, well, the same as now, no.” He frowned pensively for a moment. “Dustin was here last year. But of course, he isn’t here now.”

  “Dustin?” She spoke in barely a whisper. She felt ill. She wondered if Jon had summoned the very demon who had cast suspicion on him.

  Dear God, no! If she loved a man so deeply, she had to believe in him.

  His slippers had been wet and muddy. He had been gone so long. He had been in the stables, and now...

  He had been here last year, as well.

  “What’s the matter?” Geoffrey inquired quietly.

  She shook her head, knowing she was probably white as a sheet.

  “Dustin is Jon’s cousin. An English fellow. You’ll meet him somewhere along the line, I suppose.”

  “I suppose.” She stood up. She had to be alone. “Thanks, Geoffrey.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “The answers...the company.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll let old Jon out soon enough.” He laughed. “Then you and Jasmine will have to fight over the poor boy.” He sighed. “Tanya, bless her soul, will be out of it.”

  Carly nodded. She still couldn’t believe that Tanya wouldn’t waltz in on them with her beautiful feline sway. She shivered, and the truth of it hit her. Tanya was dead. She’d been kind to Carly, and Carly had gotten to know her as a friend. Now she was gone, and so tragically.

  “Thanks, Geoffrey,” she murmured.

  He smiled and waved. She stepped out into the hallway and started toward her own room. As she passed the telephone alcove, Alexi suddenly stepped out to grab her.

  “Carly! I’ve been trying to reach you—”

  “Let go of me!” She jerked violently, freeing herself. His lip began to curl into a slow, crooked smile. An evil smile, she thought, sadistic and wicked. “I’ve been looking for you, trying to talk to you—”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “But I can show you—”

  Carly spun around, backing away from him. “Alexi, I know you went to her again and again. You knew Tanya better than any of us.”

  “Carly, don’t run!”

  She kept walking away. She wanted to reach her room. She wanted to slam the door and lock it.

  “Carly, I can tell you things.”

  “I don’t want to hear them!”

  “I will come after you if you don’t listen! I’ll break the door down! You have to understand!”

  She was suddenly certain that he wanted her to understand what it was that drove him. It was the things that the full, glowing moon could do to the human psyche and to the animal within the human breast....

  She was getting hysterical, she told herself. She didn’t know what she was doing or where to turn anymore.

  She loved Dustin, and yet she just didn’t know. He’d been here. So many things suggested that he might be guilty.

  “Carly—”

  Alexi was staring at her. She clapped her hands over her ears. “No! No! I do not want to hear any more!”

  She turned and sped toward her room. She didn’t care that he knew that she was running. She entered into her room and slammed the door. She leaned against it, gasping for breath. Moments passed, and her breathing at last began to ease.

  “Carly!” It was Alexi. His voice was rasping and sounded funny. He was trying to be very quiet.

  “Carly, let me in. I’ll break the door down.”

  She didn’t respond. Then she felt the door shudder behind her.

  Dustin had already broken the door in once. It would be easy for someone else now.

  She stood there in panic and felt it shudder again. In another few seconds the door would burst open and she would be trapped. She had to do something.

  She looked across the room to the secret paneling. She was wearing jeans and sneakers and a sweater, and she was ready for a rapid and desperate escape. She was far better dressed for traversing the secret passage now than she had been two weeks ago.

  The door shuddered a third time.

  Carly didn’t wait any longer. She bolted across the room and began to search for the spring button. Panic welled up in her as she heard the door shudder yet again.

  “Carly...”

  “Please, please, please!...” she prayed. At last she found it, and the panel slid open, allowing her access to the passageway beyond. She slipped in and started down the corridor, just as she heard the door to her room give.

  She tried to hurry. The corridor was dark, for the daylight didn’t seem to be filtering in at all. What entered was mist. It was eerie and frightening. She could hear her own footfalls and the sound of her breath and the beat of her heart....

  Suddenly she stood still. She could hear something else. Someone was behind her. Someone was following her. Alexi?

  Alexi...or whoever had whispered to her, whoever had broken into her room.

  Following her and moving far more
quickly than she was able to move.

  She wouldn’t be able to get far. She came to the steps that led down and paused, just for a heartbeat.

  Someone was coming fast.

  She started down the steps, trying to be silent. The light was still dim; the winding stairs were treacherous. She missed her footing and almost fell, and gasped as she clung to the cold stone wall.

  She stood still.

  And heard whoever was pursuing her pause and listen. She prayed silently.

  It was no good. She heard the footsteps behind her coming down the stairs.

  She gave a horrified cry, no longer concerned about making noise.

  At the landing she came to a dead end—a locked door. Desperate, frantic, she clawed at the bolt.

  The steps came after her, then actually slowed and came on at a far more leisurely pace.

  “Carly...”

  She tugged at the bolt as hard as she could. It creaked and groaned—and gave.

  Carly tore outside, into the heavy mist that had fallen. She heard her pursuer swear, and she screamed, rushing forward.

  She couldn’t see, and didn’t know where she was. She could only hope that the man behind her was as blinded by the mist as herself.

  She heard a crunch of footsteps on the surface of the courtyard. Coming toward her, homing in unerringly on her position.

  “No!” she screamed. He was close, so close she could almost feel him, sense him.

  She banged into something. It was a police car, the inspector’s car, she realized. He was back.

  And that could mean that Dustin was back, that it was Dustin following her, calling her name, relentlessly pursuing her.

  “No, please, no!” she whispered again frantically. The car! If she could just get into the car and hide. She tried the door, but it was locked. No one locked a car here. But now, when she was so desperate, the door to the police car was locked, she thought, almost delirious.

  The footsteps were still coming. She heard the crunch of the shoes, and it was the stroke of a razor blade down her spine. Closer, closer.

  “Help!” she screamed as loudly as she could. She’d given her position away, she knew. She had to move, though she had no idea of where she was or in which direction she should be moving. She screamed again and ran. Something loomed in front of her in the mist. She had reached the stables. Gasping, she inched her way along the wall until she came to the door. She paused, listening, and her heart seemed to cease beating.