Raquel Byrnes

  “She was so angry, so sure Simon was this…this evil person.”

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Phillip said and bit on a bread stick. “This is a small community. Most people haven’t even heard of Noble Island. With generations of families living so closely together, there’s bound to be friction.”

  He smiled, and I found myself smiling back.

  Phillip had a way of making things seem less earthshattering.

  “But is it true about Simon and his mother?”

  “I wasn’t here,” he said and shrugged. “But she was in frail health to begin with. That is why Davenport stayed home. What does it matter what Nalla thinks? For all we know, she’s pickled her brain working with all those herbs and spices day in and day out.”

  “She’s not just a random villager; she’s Amanna’s sister.” I looked out the window at the rain splattering on the cobblestones and roofs and sighed. I didn’t know what to think about Nalla’s warnings. “I just don’t see it in him.”

  “Look,” Phillip said, taking my hand and patting it. “Don’t get so caught up in all the secrets and lies here. It’d take years to unravel them all.”

  “There’s more?” My heart sank. “What is Simon accused of now?”

  “Not Simon, Tuttle,” Phillip said with a chuckle. He glanced around the room and leaned forward. “Tuttle had a daughter that Simon was seeing when they were teens. A pretty young thing. Redhead with freckles. Her name was Susan. Everyone thought they’d end up together, you know, married, but along comes Amanna and that was over.”

  “Tuttle has a daughter?” I had trouble seeing her as a mother. “Where is she now?”

  “Died. Car accident or something on the other side of the island almost a year after Simon broke up with her.” Phillip smiled at the approaching waiter but waved him away. “Nasty business. She wouldn’t leave Simon alone. Kept showing up at Shadow Bay Hall. She said she was visiting Tuttle, but…” He shook his head. “So when Amanna moves into the house, you know, after they are married, Tuttle loses her mind. Refuses to wait on her, ‘loses’ her things, sabotages special days, that sort of thing. Tuttle hated Amanna. If anyone wished her ill, it was that woman. I heard that Amanna meant to fire Tuttle the week she disappeared. Seems like Tuttle got lucky in that respect.”

  “Why would Tuttle even stay?” I asked. “I mean if it was my daughter, I’d bolt.”

  “Tuttle has a son in some sort of expensive school,” Phillip said, gesturing with his fork. “The Hales pay for it. Simon’s mother and Tuttle were friends, and she set up a grant for Tuttle’s kid for as long as Tuttle is employed by the Hales. If she stays, it’s paid for even after she retires. With her husband gone, it makes sense to take advantage of that offer.”

  “What kind of school is worth the heartache of all that?”

  Phillip shrugged, finished his breadstick and sat back in his chair. He smiled at me. “You’re not getting the point, Rosie,” he said. “I wanted to show you that rumors and ill will abound here, and it’s not just for Simon. Even the sheriff had his brush with the Hales. He and Simon fought constantly in high school. Levine was always so jealous of him. Despite all of that history, Simon is a good guy. Always has been.”

  I tried to believe him. Tried to brush Nalla’s words away with Phillip’s simple explanations. The trouble was, it appeared that Simon was connected to three women who died on Noble Island—his mother, his girlfriend, and his wife. That all seemed way too strange to be a coincidence. I had to talk to Simon.

  “Do you mind if I order a piece of cake? I thought maybe Lavender might like it.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Phillip said and smiled. He got up. “I’ll go and have them box a whole cake to take back. Would that cheer you up?”

  “I believe chocolate always cheers me up,” I said and smiled back, though my heart wasn’t in it.

  He went to speak to the kitchen staff, and I gathered my things. At the front of the restaurant, by the doors, I caught a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.

  Simon stood talking with Josif in the rain near the corner. The pelting drops and din of conversation drowned out their words, but I could tell Simon was upset. Drenched, his white shirt clung to his arms and chest, highlighting his muscled frame. I did not doubt that Simon was a formidable man, but could he really be truly dangerous to know?

  Phillip pushed through the door, the cake in one arm, his other hand at the small of my back. We sent the bells hanging overhead jangling.

  Simon turned, our gazes locked, and then his look shifted to Phillip. Turning away, he strode around the corner of the building out of sight.

  Josif turned to me, his lips pressed thin.

  “Josif,” I called, but he followed after Simon.

  Phillip looked at me with a smile, seemingly oblivious. He’d been talking with a couple that passed us at the door.

  “Shall we?”

  “I think it’s letting up.” I nodded to the golf cart. “Do you want a lift back to the house?”

  “It’s early yet, Rosie. I’m going to meet a friend of mine over at the tavern. You’re welcome to come.”

  “No, thank you, but—”

  “Not your type of scene. I got it.” He walked with me to the cart, helped me in and secured the cake box in the covered crate that served as a small trunk. “See you soon, then?”

  “Thank you for dinner.”

  “Don’t let the ghosts of this old island upset you.” He pecked me on the forehead. “And don’t get any ideas about Simon. At least, not based on the rumors.” He winked and walked back down the road.

  I watched him leave, the streetlamps illuminating the drizzle as the sun settled lower on the horizon. Starting down the darkening road, a shudder of apprehension ran through me. How much did I know about the Hales after all?

  22

  Simon

  Simon strode with Josif along the south path, a route that would take them along Echo Cliffs to his workshop the back way. Dark ocean waves beat against jagged rocks far below them.

  Josif had wished to speak with him since he’d come back from his trip, and Simon could sense the tension in his friend.

  “Your cousin is a complication you do not need right now,” Josif muttered.

  “Phillip couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up unannounced,” Simon grumbled.

  “Always with the talent for inconvenience,” Josif answered.

  They walked within feet of each other. The night allowed for only the faintest silhouette of his friend. Simon glanced up at the silver moon, and black clouds slid slowly across its middle.

  “I meant what I said, Josif. I want to know why Sheriff Levine was really here. You don’t waste an entire day just to ‘pop in,’ especially with the southern dock still down. His boat had to come in from the north side. That’s at least four hours to get to the top of Noble from the other islands.”

  “Word in the village is he’s here to investigate the strange break-ins.”

  “I haven’t heard of this.”

  “It’s not the big houses on the hills, Simon. It’s the homes of the villagers. Food and clothes were taken. There are things destroyed. Mirrors.”

  “So the sheriff is here to stop this?”

  “Presumably, but this can still cause problems.”

  “Problems?”

  Josif walked beside him in silence. His friend always did that when tough things needed to be said.

  Simon waited him out, already guessing at what Josif meant to say.

  “Your Rosetta—” he began.

  “She’s not mine,” Simon said and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wish she were, but…”

  “This woman,” Josif continued. “She is special to you, yes?”

  “What are you getting at, Josif?”

  “There are things happening on this island. You know that, Simon. In your own home that seem—”

  “She’s hope, Josif. Can’t you see that? She’s the possibility of
happiness for Lavender and for me. I can’t let all this—my past, what’s happening now—I won’t let it ruin what might be.”

  “Simon, you are not well. I can see this.” Josif’s hand went to Simon’s arm, stopping him. “There was blood in the forest.”

  “S-She’s strong, Josif. She’s so much stronger than you realize.” Simon took in a jagged breath. Hope and frustration banged in his chest, squeezing.

  Josif released his arm. A lighter flared and Josif put it to the pipe in his mouth, puffing. He held the flame between them, looking at Simon with a solemn face.

  “You do not believe in the old magic, Simon, but I do,” Josif rasped. “Beware of tempting your fate.”

  “I know, Josif,” Simon said. “But I don’t intend on surrendering to it, either.”

  Josif nodded once, extinguished the lighter, and walked off.

  Simon listened to him crunch over the leaves and twigs as he went toward his cabin in the forest. Soon the wind swallowed the sound of him. Simon closed his eyes and breathed in the night, smelling the earth and the pine. He listened to the roar of the water bashing the craggy rocks, and the scent of the ocean floated to him. He imagined Rosetta and Lavender playing together on the sand and wondered if her hair lit up like gold in the sunlight. His daughter’s giggle, the smile on her face as she sat on Rosetta’s lap in the gazebo pierced his heart. He ground his jaw. Was he really fated to lose all whom he loved? Was there no escape?

  Standing in the pitch of the night hearing the wind howl through the trees, Simon thought about fate and faith. He wondered how far one could run in the dark before being lost in it forever and if his prayers still rose to heaven after all this time.

  23

  My conversation with Phillip did little to ease the worry caused by Nalla’s grave declarations. I sat alone in the kitchen nursing a cup of hot cocoa. Dunking the mini marshmallows under with a spoon, I stared out at the night. A storm out over the ocean churned and flickered pale light across the water. It looked beautiful and somber. The low-hanging light above me dimmed and flared bright again. I eyed it with furrowed brows. Not much wind tonight, but another big storm was coming and the lights might go off again. I should go and get the flashlight from my room.

  As I thought of the one I’d nearly lost in the dark fog last night, uneasiness fluttered in my stomach, but I pushed it away. I couldn’t worry about that now. If there was an explanation for all the strange happenings, it had to have something to do with Nalla’s warnings. If tragedy truly plagued the Hale family, then finding out exactly what that meant would only help to make things clearer.

  I just didn’t know how to do that. I knew from botany that when assessing a possible new specimen, you gathered all the information available before proceeding. Inevitably, notes intersected, previously uncertain clues became clear, closer inspection always revealed results. That is what I needed to do—rely on the logical side of my mind. The emotional side seemed to make things murkier.

  Sitting back in the seat, I pushed away the mug and blew out my breath. I wasn’t thirsty. I didn’t want to go up to bed. I wanted answers. Problem was, I had no idea how to get them short of interrogating the entire household. If I waited until everyone was asleep, then maybe I could steal back up into the hidden storage room. I needed to return the picture of Simon anyway. No harm in doing that. Before I left the kitchen, I grabbed a spare flashlight from the coat room and went up to check on Davenport. Dr. Fliven should be in tomorrow, and I had a lot of questions for him. The door eased open under my soft knock. The bed was empty.

  “Mr. Hale?” I called into the room. The weak light of the bedside lamp didn’t quite reach the door, and I stepped into the darkness, listening. I didn’t hear anything. The digital clock on the dresser read after eight. “Where did he go?”

  Easing back out, I used the photograph of Simon to fan myself, thinking. If Davenport was out of bed, he was most likely downstairs in the library, which meant I couldn’t slip into the hidden passageway. I took the stairs up to the third floor and my gaze went to the doors further down the hall, to the room just off the observation deck: the study. Heading towards it, I checked the handle. It twisted easily, and I pushed through to the musty room, closed the door, and felt along the wall for a light switch. I flicked it on, but the bulb sparked once, gave a small burst, and burned out.

  “Great.” I pulled out the flashlight I’d taken from the kitchen. “How am I going to rifle through secret files if I can’t see anything?”

  Feeling silly for even thinking of going through the private papers of Simon’s family, I stood at the door of the study with the small pen-light illuminating the ragged carpet at my feet. A purple light flashed through the window—the storm clouds over the ocean. I remembered the telescope out on the observation deck from my tour with Mrs. Tuttle and bit my lip. I bet the clouds and lightning looked amazing through it.

  It wasn’t raining yet, and I needed to see something beautiful after the feeling of terror in the fog last night and Nalla’s dire warnings today. Stealing through the study, I tried the door that led out to the observation deck. It was locked. Disappointed, I jiggled the knob and it clicked in my hand.

  “So much for secure,” I whispered as I opened the door.

  Cold air and mist washed over me as I walked onto the deck. A dark purple sky was pocked with black clouds. They churned with flashes in their bellies. The moon, only a sliver, hung low, its light weak and jaundiced against the deep gloom. The breeze from the storming ocean brought with it the smell of ozone and salt, making the air crackle with electricity. Not wanting to be seen, I flicked the flashlight off and guided myself along the outer edge of the deck by the railing. Cracked and peeling paint scraped against my palm. The silhouette of the telescope formed in front of me, and I stopped, reaching out and finding its cool surface.

  I tilted it, leaning to look into the eyepiece, and let out a murmur of awe. As if within my reach, flashes of light in a sea of darkness lit up the clouds. They roiled and folded into one another like billows of agitated smoke. A jagged wire of light snapped down to the sea, and I gasped with the intensity of the lightning. I pulled away from the telescope as the thunderclap hit, bringing with it waves of electrified air. The hairs on my arms spiked. Another volley of purple fissures lit up the sky; and as I braced for the thunder, something caught my eye. I turned as the sky flashed bright, illuminating a hunched figure just feet from me. The figure jerked towards me before darkness engulfed us.

  Startled, I stumbled back, a scream ripping from my throat as I flailed, blind from the flash. I knocked the telescope over and went down with it; my feet tangled with the stand. A guttural moan, anguished and inhuman, floated out from the darkness, sending me into a panic. I scrambled along the floor clawing for the door to the study. Behind me, I heard banging on the deck. A steady thump-thump-thump getting louder and harder. I fumbled with the handle of the door and yanked on it frantically. Cold fear squeezed the breath out of me, and I threw my shoulder against the door and fell through, tumbling to the floor.

  I righted myself and jerked open the door leading to the hallway, my gaze going over my shoulder, sure that a hand was just about the grab me. I ran headlong into someone, and the shock of it sent my scream echoing down the hallway.

  “Will you stop that?” O’Shay’s rough voice sounded next to me.

  “O’Shay?” My eyes were still recovering from the lightning flashes.

  “Will you kindly remove yourself from my person?” He pushed me off, and we stood.

  “O—O’Shay, there is something out there on the deck.”

  “What do you mean there’s something out there?” His eyes narrowed. “What were you doing out there anyway? It’s not safe, the railing—”

  “Will you forget about the railing,” I said and pulled him away from the study door.

  “What is wrong with you?” He went a few feet before yanking his arm from mine. “Stop with this nonsense, Ms. Ryan. You’ll wak
e the whole house.”

  “I saw something out there! I was watching the storm and then the lightning lit up the…the…there’s something there, O’Shay, I saw it!”

  He stepped back from me as if my fear were contagious. His gray mustache twitched as he looked at me with suspicion.

  “If I go and have a look, will you stop with your hysterics?”

  I nodded, hand to my chest, trying to steady my breath. “Wait, shouldn’t you take a gun or something out there with you?”

  “Just stay out here in the hall,” O’Shay muttered. He blew out a breath and trudged through the door, closing it behind him. I stood listening as his footsteps receded into the room. A door opened and shut inside the room, and then the squeak of the French doors leading out to the deck.

  I waited, barely breathing for almost a minute, before he came back.

  “Well?”

  “There’s a busted telescope out there, nothing more.” O’Shay shrugged.

  “What are you talking about?” I tried to push back into the study, but he stopped me.

  “Don’t you think you’re done causing a ruckus tonight, Ms. Ryan?”

  “I saw something out there, Mr. O’Shay.”

  “I’m sure you thought you did, but there’s nothing out there now.” He crossed his arms and stood with his back to the study door.

  “Well, is there another way off of the deck?”

  “Only if you can fly,” he said and shook his head. “What could you have seen out there with the light flashing all around you? You didn’t even see me before you took me down.” He rubbed the side of his head.

  I felt the air go out of me, and I rubbed my eyes, confused.

  He had a bruised eye and fresh scratches on his arms. What was going on?

  “But…you’re sure there’s nothing out there?”

  “Just a branch that blew onto the deck during the last rainstorm. You sure that wasn’t what you saw? It’s in the corner.”