The Kingdom

by Amanda Stevens

  I drew on that experience now as I touched the amulet at my throat. Something had protected me in that thicket. Whether it had been the stone from Rosehill Cemetery that I wore around my neck, or Angus or even my own strength, I didn’t know. But I was safe and, except for a few nasty scratches on my arms, no worse for the wear.

  As we neared the turnoff to the Covey place, my heart rate slowed and I began to calm. The closer we got to hallowed ground—my temporary sanctuary—the stronger I felt.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, more to myself than Angus.

  Ten

  Thane Asher was waiting for me on my front porch when I got home. As I opened the car door to climb out, Angus shot past me before I could grab him. I called to him sharply, but I needn’t have bothered. After a warning bark and a wary sizing up, he settled right down and allowed Thane to scratch the back of his neck.

  Some guard dog you are, I thought. But then I remembered how he’d placed himself between me and the ghost on that first night, and how just minutes ago, he’d matched his stride to mine as he guided me back to the car. What would I have done without him? I might still have been stumbling around in that thicket, hopelessly lost.

  “Who’s this?” Thane asked as I approached the porch.

  “Angus.” Hearing his name—or perhaps my voice—he trotted over to my side, and I leaned down to pet him.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Luna Kemper said he’d probably been used as a bait dog.”

  Thane’s expression never changed, but I thought I saw something dark and vicious fleet across his face, making me wonder if there might be a layer of razor wire beneath that smooth, impenetrable façade. He looked straight at me then, an electrifying glance that caught me completely off guard. Without another word, he knelt beside the dog, running a gentle hand down the emaciated rib cage as he murmured something reassuring to Angus. I had no idea what he said, but Angus nuzzled against him appreciatively.

  I picked at one of the scratches on my arm. The sting was oddly reassuring. “I told Chief Van Zandt about the dog fighting. I thought he’d want to know.”

  “What did he say?” Thane examined the dog’s ears, then cupped the snout to check his teeth. Angus endured the examination without so much as a whimper.

  “He said he’d keep a lookout for any kennels in the area, but I don’t know if I believe him.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Thane stood and dusted his hands on his jeans. He had on the same black sweater he’d worn when I first met him, and I couldn’t help but notice how tautly it pulled across his broad shoulders. I couldn’t help but wonder how formidable he might be if crossed. “If there’s dog fighting in the area, I’ll find it and put a stop to it.”

  “How?”

  He glanced at me again, his eyes vividly intent. “Best not to concern yourself with the details.”

  Something in his voice alarmed me, a miniscule crack that exposed the razor wire. I’d been angry, too, when I found out about Angus, but Thane Asher was a man of unlimited resources in these parts. I had no idea how he might unleash his fury.

  I buried my hand in Angus’s fur so that he wouldn’t see how badly I still trembled. I’d had a bad scare in the thicket, and I wasn’t yet over the shock. But I was good at hiding my feelings, and I didn’t flinch as Thane’s gaze lingered on my grimy appearance. I thought I detected a softening of his features, but it may only have been my imagination.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  I had no intention of telling him anything. If he’d never had a supernatural encounter, he wouldn’t understand. My description of an evil wind would undoubtedly elicit laughter or pity, and I didn’t like opening myself up to ridicule. I was a private person, and my ability to see ghosts was by necessity and desire a very personal thing. Nor was I ready to reveal the discovery of the grave. Not quite yet. Not until I’d had time to think it through calmly.

  So I ran a hand through my gritty hair and shrugged. “I tangled with a briar patch. Occupational hazard.”

  “You should probably go in and put something on those scratches.”

  “I will later,” I said with a shrug.

  “And by later, you mean after I’m gone.”

  I smiled thinly. “You’ll have to excuse my manners. I just got home from work and I wasn’t expecting company.”

  My own subtle rebuke had the intended effect, and for a moment he looked suitably contrite. “I apologize for just dropping by this way, but I won’t take much of your time.” He motioned to the porch. “If we could just sit for a minute?”

  I hesitated. The sun was well below the treetops. It would be dusk soon, and even though I knew how to protect myself from ghosts, I’d never lived so close to a desecrated cemetery before. I had no idea what might rise from that lake. It was best not to take any chances.

  “I promise I won’t stay long,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you about Thorngate.”

  I gave an inward sigh. All I wanted at that moment was a hot bath, a soothing cup of chamomile and Angus keeping watch from the back porch. But I was my mother’s daughter, and the Southern social graces were as deeply ingrained in my nature as my father’s rules. I nodded and smiled politely as I moved over to the steps.

  The air had chilled as the sun had gone down, and the woods crowded in on us. I could smell the evergreens as they loomed thick in the fading light, rank upon rank of towering sentinels. I drew Angus close as Thane and I sat side by side on the porch.

  “What’s this about Thorngate?” I asked.

  He paused for a moment as his gaze scoured the landscape. I had a feeling he was searching for something to say. “I haven’t been up there in years. How bad is it?”

  “I’ve seen worse.” I gave him a puzzled glance. He faced straight ahead, and I could divine nothing from his profile. But instinct told me that the cemetery was the furthest thing from his mind, and I began to feel a little apprehensive. Why was he really here?

  He turned suddenly and caught me staring. I glanced away as warmth stole up my neck. “I’ll tell you a little secret about Thorngate,” he said. “The only way to fully appreciate it is by moonlight. There’s an area near the mausoleum that was specifically designed for nighttime viewing.”

  I thought about the stone angels with their strange, upturned faces and the silvery overgrowth of sage, wormwood and moonshine yarrow. “I recognized the remains of a white garden,” I told him. “I have one at home so I can well imagine how beautiful the cemetery would be in moonlight. Especially with all those statues. The faces are extraordinary.”

  “Yes,” he said dryly. “We Ashers have always been very good at erecting handsome monuments to ourselves.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, I suppose, except our ego has taken ostentation to a whole new level. I sometimes wonder if all that money spent on the dead might not have been put to better use on the living.”

  “But cemeteries are for the living,” I said. “And those who pay tribute to the dead usually have a commensurate respect for life.”

  He gave me a look that I couldn’t begin to interpret. “You really don’t know very much about us, do you?”

  A brittle edge in his voice made me wonder again about his relationship with his family, but I merely shrugged.

  Angus had planted himself in the middle by this time so that neither of us had to reach too far to pet him. He was no fool. I scratched behind one of the ear nubs while Thane ran his hand along the sharp ridge of his backbone. The rhythmic motion was very soothing, and I began to relax.

  “How did you get involved in the cemetery business?” he asked.

  “My father was a caretaker for many years. He taught me early on an appreciation for old Southern graveyards. When I was a kid, I used to think the cemetery by our house was enchanted. It was my favorite place to play. I called it my kingdom.”

  “Is that why you’re known as The Graveyard Queen?”

 
“How in the world did you find out about that?” I asked in surprise.

  “I looked you up.”

  “And?”

  “You’re accomplished for someone so young. Undergraduate degree in anthropology from the University of South Carolina, a master’s in archeology from Chapel Hill and you spent two years in the State Archeologist’s office before opening your own business. All very impressive.”

  “It seems you’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to check me out,” I said coolly.

  “Not really. It was all there on your website.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  He grinned, and I couldn’t help noticing how young and appealing he looked when he smiled. He should do more of that, but then…the same could undoubtedly be said about me.

  “Were you worried about my credentials?” I asked.

  “No. I was curious about you.”

  That silenced me. I wasn’t looking at him, but I knew his eyes were on me. I could feel that gaze just as surely as I felt the sting of all those scratches.

  “Actually, I did a little more than read your website,” he confessed. “I came across a newspaper account of the cemetery restoration in Charleston last spring.”

  “Oak Grove,” I said and felt the familiar hitch in my breath when I remembered.

  The knife scar from my struggle with a killer tingled on my upper arm even though the cut had healed months ago. But the wounds on the inside ran deeper. The fear had subsided, at least during daylight hours, but the memory of my entrapment would fester for years, gnawing at me relentlessly on nights when sleep was hard to come by.

  Thane must have sensed my reluctance to dredge up that particular nightmare because he said nothing else on the subject. But his gaze on me was soft and so gently inviting that I found myself wanting to confide in him. I suddenly had an intense need to let everything that had happened all those months ago come pouring out, but I barely knew the man. I couldn’t talk to him about personal things. Especially not about Devlin.

  We didn’t speak again for several long moments. Thane continued to stroke Angus’s back, and I felt myself slide even more deeply into relaxation. Maybe after the ordeal in the thicket, I was simply too bone tired to fight it. Had it not been getting on dusk, I would have been content to remain as we were, but it was long past time I learned the real purpose of his visit.

  “You didn’t come here to talk to me about Thorngate, did you?” I asked. “Why are you really here?”

  The hand stilled on Angus’s back and he glanced up. “I need a favor.”

  I frowned. “What kind of favor?”

  “What are your plans for the evening?”

  I hadn’t anticipated that question. The amity I’d felt moments before vanished, and I found myself pulling away. “Early dinner, early bedtime,” I said stiffly. “I get up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Could you make an exception just this once? I’d like you to come to a small dinner party at Asher House tonight. We have them every so often. My grandfather started the tradition a long time ago when the community first fell on hard times. Jobs were drying up, people were moving away. He wanted to find a way to show solidarity with the townspeople. A noble enough sentiment, I guess, but over the past few years, the evenings have degenerated into the same handful of guests. It’s become tiresome. We’re in dire need of fresh blood.”

  The chill in the breeze made me shiver. “Thank you, but I’m not much on dinner parties. And even if I were, I don’t have anything suitable to wear. I packed mostly work clothes.”

  His gaze drifted over me. “You can come as you are as far as I’m concerned.”

  I gave an awkward laugh to cover my uneasiness. “I think I could at least manage a shower.”

  “Is that a yes, then?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry. I’m really not in the mood for a party. It’s been a long day.” And I needed time alone to digest everything that had happened in the laurel bald.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to be a little more persuasive,” he said slowly.

  “Meaning?”

  “I believe I have something you want.”

  My pulse quickened at his ominous tone, even though I suspected he was teasing me. “And what would that be?”

  “A lot of the old cemetery records are stored at Asher House. I could arrange for you to have a look at them.”

  “Luna told me the records were stored at the library in town.”

  “Some of them are, but not the ones you’ll want to see. If you come to dinner, I’ll make sure you have full access.”

  “That sounds very much like a bribe,” I accused.

  He grinned. “Would it pique your interest to know there are pictures—actual photographs—of the cemetery from the late 1800s? The original site map should still be around, too, and who knows? We may even be able to dig up the family Bible.”

  I thought about that hidden grave once again and wondered if any record of it might be included in the Asher family archives. I wanted to know who was buried there. In fact, I had to know. Unidentified graves were anathema to me.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” I said with a sigh.

  The green eyes gleamed. “Shall I pick you up at quarter of eight?”

  “No, thank you. I’d rather drive.”

  He gave me a knowing look. “So you can leave whenever you want?”

  I shrugged.

  He nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll see you at eight, then. You can’t miss the house. It’s just past the cemetery. Cross the creek and you’re there.”

  Eleven

  If the cemetery statuary was a tribute to Asher ego, then I could only surmise the house must pay homage to the family’s hubris. The place was massive, a towering cliff-top behemoth with three stories of verandas and half a dozen gleaming columns that seemed at least a mile high. I had expected something large but nothing quite so grand. Nor was I prepared for the floating illusion created by moonlight and clever illumination.

  A circular drive swept me up and around to the front of the house, and my first inclination was to make the arc and keep going. For some inexplicable reason, I found myself intimidated, and I didn’t understand why. Status meant nothing to me. I’d been brought up by a gentle mother who embodied the more refined qualities of a Southern belle, but also by a father who came from the mountains of North Carolina and worked with his hands. I was a product of both and proud of it.

  So why the nervous hesitation? Why that foreboding that warned me to stay away from this house and the Ashers?

  My gaze traveled up the mansion’s façade as I climbed out of the car. The ground floor veranda was well lit, but the upper balconies lay in darkness. Even so, I fancied I could see a shadow way up high staring down at me. A ghost? I wouldn’t be surprised. Not in this house. Not in these hills. The whole area seemed afflicted by some dark spell, some evil enchantment. I knew how daft that would sound to anyone other than my father, but I couldn’t discount my instincts. Too many strange things had happened in the short time I’d been in Asher Falls.

  I climbed the steps and rang the bell, feeling a little underdressed. The only decent outfit I’d brought with me was a plain black sheath that I often wore when invited to speak or give interviews. If I’d been back home in Charleston, I could have accessorized it with pearls and pumps, but tonight I had to make do with flats and a cardigan.

  A uniformed maid answered the door and gave a little curtsy as I relinquished my bag. I had only a brief impression of crystal chandeliers illuminating a magnificent double staircase before I was ushered down a spacious hallway. As I walked along behind her, my gaze was drawn to the faded paintings on the walls—generations of Ashers, I presumed—and I couldn’t help but notice the curl of the brocade wallpaper and the water-stained ceiling. Despite its grandeur, the house smelled old and musty, and the air had the damp chill of a tomb. A place where time had stood still. A home more suited to the dead than the living.

  The maid waved me through t
he arched doorway, and the room fell silent as I entered. I hastily searched the small crowd for Thane, and my gaze lit upon Luna Kemper, breathtakingly lovely in lavender chiffon. She smiled and nodded, but I had the distinct impression she was shocked to see me. She was flanked by two women. I recognized Sidra’s mother from the day before and the redhead from the photograph in Luna’s office. The picture had captured a hovering ghost in the background, and I searched the window behind them now for that scowling countenance. But I saw nothing more menacing than reflected candlelight.