“Just trying to remember where the sconces are.” He went down another few steps and played the light over the stone walls. “Ah. Here we are.” I heard the strike of a match, and then light flared, animating giant shadows on the walls. Cupping the flame, Thane lit the candles, then plucked one from the sconce and handed it to me as he pocketed his penlight. Then he took another candle for himself.
We went down the rest of the steps, and he lit more candles at the bottom. The tomb was larger than I would have expected, with walls of crypts and vaults that vanished into darkness. I saw the glitter of more cobwebs, the glint of reflected light on sterling-silver markers and plaques. The smell of mildew grew stronger, and I could well imagine the creep of black mold in every corner and crevice.
“This is incredible,” I said, and the stone walls threw my breathless voice back to me.
“Too bad we don’t have proper lighting,” he said. “We’ll have to come prepared next time. Some of the carvings and scrollwork on the vaults is extraordinary.”
“Was that the tiniest bit of pride I heard in your voice just now?” I teased him.
He glanced over his shoulder, his face eerie in the flickering light. “I’ve never disputed the family has taste,” he said. “My quibble is with the overindulgence. And speaking of which…” He held the candle high. “Emelyn’s coffin is this way.”
He led me through an arched doorway into a small chamber where the glass coffin rested on an ornate pedestal. As he turned to place his candle in a nearby holder, I came up beside him, which is how I happened to make the discovery first. The candlelight reflected in the glass so that I couldn’t see anything at first. But as I repositioned, I got my first glimpse of her. And gasped.
Thane whirled. “What is it?”
I held my candle over the coffin. His gaze dropped, and he said on a breath, “Jesus.”
Air must have gotten into the container through a fracture or a seam because the body had started to wither and shrink. The wrinkled skin had turned gray, and the eye sockets were empty, the lips shriveled back into a hideous grin. And even more grotesque, somehow, were the bridal trappings in which the corpse had been displayed.
“How long since you were down here?” I asked.
“Years. I wonder how long she’s been this way.”
“Who knows? If there’s even a hairline fracture in the glass, I imagine decomposition would have happened quickly.” I paused on a shiver as I glanced down at the corpse. “Will you tell your grandfather?”
“I see no reason for him to know. It would just upset him and he’ll never come down here again. Not until—” He broke off as a cold wind swept down into the tomb, snuffing the candles a split second before the door slammed closed upstairs.
In that utter blackness, I felt the chill of dread creep along my backbone.
“Thane?” As I breathed his name, I felt his hand on my arm.
“It’s okay. The wind blew them out. Let me find the matches.”
I sensed his body close to mine, and in the deep silence of the tomb, I swore I could hear his heartbeat. Or was it my own? His arm came around me as he fumbled for the matches. I could feel his breath against my cheek, the whisper of his lips in my hair.
“Thane?”
He pulled me back against him, an arm around my waist holding me still as he lifted my hair and licked my neck at the pulse point. As if trying to devour my essence.
I jerked away in shock. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find the damn matches.” His voice came from the bottom of the stairs. He was no longer in the chamber with me. But the arm was still holding me… .
In the paralyzed moment before I could react, I felt the hand slide up to my breast, another down to my thigh. A raspy voice whispered in my ear, “Soon.” And then I heard the scrabble of claws on the stone floor a split second before Thane appeared in the doorway with a candle.
I whirled but no one was there. I was alone in the chamber with Emelyn Asher’s withered corpse.
Twenty-Two
The storm blew over quickly, and the sunset that evening was spectacular. I sat out on the back steps with Angus at my feet as the sky over Bell Lake ripened from a rosy blush to a deep apricot, then faded to smoky lavender shot through with gold.
Up in the hills, the nocturnal creatures began to stir as twilight gathered. I would need to go inside soon, but for now I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the deep respite of the in-between, that bated breath of half-light before darkness descended.
A moth lit, with quivering wings, on the bee balm beside the steps. Out on the lake, a loon called to its mate, the melodic wail thin and haunting and a little unnerving as night sounds tend to be. Somewhere deeper in the forest, I heard the faint yip of coyotes and what might have been the scream of a “painter,” the elusive black panther from my father’s stories of his childhood in the mountains.
I was restless and lonely and still frightened by what had transpired in the tomb. I wanted to believe that terrible presence had been my imagination, a conjure of my fear, but I couldn’t forget the feel of that hot breath on my face, the whispery promise in my ear… .
I drew a trembling breath. Any sensible person would turn tail and run. There was no shame in it. I could head out now and be home in Charleston in a matter of hours. Fix a cup of chamomile in the kitchen. Browse through the mail on my desk. Sleep in my own bed. Be nearer to Devlin.
Another tremulous breath.
But would I be any safer there? In all those agonizing months of avoiding Devlin, I’d somehow managed to convince myself that I would be fine so long as I kept my distance. But now I had to wonder if everything happening to me in Asher Falls was a direct result of my wanton disregard of Papa’s rules. My love of a haunted man had not only opened a door, but it had also weakened me, made me susceptible to the dark forces at work in this town and in these mountains.
Was that too fantastical? I didn’t think so. Not anymore.
I thought again of that old man who had appeared in the cemetery, his grotesque behavior neither animal nor human but the embodiment of every strange thing that had happened to me here.
Catrice was right, I thought. The natural balance was off-kilter in these mountains. The axis had tilted in Asher Falls. Cemeteries had been drowned, hex signs had been altered and now nature had been reordered. And somehow I was a part of it all. I had been brought here for a reason.
I glanced down at my calloused palms and thought again of my father. He’d always tried to shelter me. From the moment I saw the ghost of the old white-haired man in Rosehill Cemetery, Papa had given me those rules so that I would be protected. But he had kept things from me, too. They all had. He and Mama and Aunt Lynrose. They had information about my birth. I was convinced of it. Whatever they knew, whatever dark secret bound them, had closed Mama’s heart to me and made Papa retreat so deeply inside himself, I could scarcely remember the man who had told me those mountain stories, who had instilled in me a reverence and love of old cemeteries. Their secrets and silence had shut me out and made me retreat into my own little world.
Devlin had managed to penetrate that world to dire consequences. And now there was another threat knocking at the gate. Thane Asher.
I closed my eyes on a shudder. I was drawn to Thane in a way that I didn’t understand because it wasn’t just him, the man. The pull came from this place, this town, the very earth beneath my feet.
Pell Asher’s voice seemed to echo down from the hilltop. The strongest ties are blood and land. They are constant. Romantic love is all too fleeting.
I glanced toward that hilltop. I thought if I stared hard enough, I might be able to see the lights of Asher House. I might be able to will some answers. But the silence only deepened.
Dusk dropped swiftly and still I sat there. The gray sky shimmered above the treetops where the moon would soon rise, but beyond the forest, the blue haze of hill and mountain darkened into a seamless shadow.
And I he
ld my breath, waiting. Somewhere in that twilight, the veil had thinned, and I imagined Freya’s ghost drifting through. Would she come to me tonight? Drawn by my warmth and energy? My life force? Did she crave what she could never have again?
Or did she haunt me for another reason?
I should seek sanctuary. I knew that. By acknowledging the dead, I was once again tempting fate. But the door had already opened, and I needed to know why I had been brought here. I needed to know the secrets of my birth, the secrets of my destiny. I needed to know why I was so drawn to Thane Asher.
Soon, the trees whispered, and I shivered.
* * *
Freya’s ghost didn’t appear to me that night, although I may have missed her. I went inside before full dark and curled up in bed with my laptop. I’d been neglecting my blog shamelessly since I left Charleston, and now I spent some time moderating the comments from my last entry and outlining a new article about hex signs.
I also checked my in-box. There was an email from Devlin.
The mouse hovered indecisively. Should I click or should I let sleeping dogs lie? Move on from the past? Leave Devlin to his ghosts?
In the end, I couldn’t resist. I opened the email and devoured the one-sentence message. Then I read it again, scowling: Where are you?
Was it my imagination—my wishful thinking—that a hint of desperation had crept into that brief missive?
I closed the in-box, shut down the laptop and slid under the covers. As I lay there in the darkness, night sounds invaded my sanctuary, and Devlin once again invaded my dreams.
Twenty-Three
The warm weather held over the next few days, and I spent long hours at Thorngate, armed with rake, shovel and machete as I hacked and chopped and dug my way through the vegetation that had crept from the old cemetery into the new. The physical labor lifted my spirits, and I threw myself into the work, ignoring Devlin’s email and Thane’s kisses and the havoc they had wreaked on my peace of mind. But as absorbed as I was in the task at hand, I never once turned my back on the mausoleum.
When I thought of that hot breath on my neck, the flick of that phantom tongue, I slashed even harder at the brush until blisters formed beneath the gloves. By the end of the week, my energy was spent, and I decided to take a long overdue library break. I hadn’t been able to locate Freya’s grave, and I could only conclude that it had yet to be uncovered in the tangle of vines and brambles that had overrun a section of the cemetery. Until I could clear it all away, I would need a site map to identify the graves.
Stopping by the house for a quick shower and change of clothing, I made sure Angus was settled in with plenty of fresh water and food, and then I left him snoozing in a patch of sunlight in front of my bedroom window. I hated to lock him inside, but I couldn’t take him into town with me, and I certainly wasn’t going to leave him alone in the yard.
Ivy stood at the counter talking to Sidra when I entered the library a few minutes later. They both wore their school uniforms, so I assumed neither had been expelled.
“Hello,” I said with a friendly nod.
“If it isn’t The Graveyard Queen,” Ivy drawled. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Creepy.”
What I found creepy was the fact that she must have looked me up to know my nickname. What I found even creepier was the possibility that she’d been spying on Thane and me at the falls that day. Ivy’s not like other girls, he’d said. There’ve been some incidents. “I guess it depends on one’s perspective,” I said, carefully.
Her gaze was slightly contemptuous. “If you say so.”
I turned to Sidra. “Is Luna here?”
She shot a warning glance at Ivy. “No, but she’ll be back soon.”
“I guess that’s my cue.” Ivy straightened. “See you later, Sid. Don’t forget what we talked about.”
Sidra frowned. “I already told you, I’m not going up there again.”
“Never say never,” Ivy said and gave me a knowing smile.
Sidra waited until the door closed behind Ivy, then turned back to me. “Can I help you with something?”
“Is everything okay? You look a little anxious.”
“I’m fine. It’s just…” She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure? If you need someone to talk to—”
“I don’t,” she said, dropping her gaze to the counter.
“Okay, then maybe you can help me.” I told her what I needed, and she led me through the library to a long table stacked with books and records. “Luna gathered up all this stuff for you days ago. We were wondering when you’d be back.”
I almost told her that I’d been in once before, but then I remembered the circumstances of that visit and decided to hold my silence.
“If you don’t find what you’re looking for here, I can always check the archives,” Sidra said, thumbing through one of the file folders. “And I’m sure we have more reference books that mention Thorngate.”
“Thanks. Whatever you can find will be a big help. Oh, and speaking of reference books, I’d like to find out more about the hex signs up at the waterfall. I tried an internet search, but nothing turned up.”
Her eyes widened, and I saw something surface in those blue depths that might have been fear. “Hex signs?”
“I’ve seen similar ones on old gravestones. I’m curious how they came to be carved into the side of that cliff.”
She hesitated. “You won’t find any information in here or anywhere else about those symbols. And I wouldn’t mention them again. People around here are funny about those things.”
“Superstitious, you mean?”
Her gaze darted away. “I just wouldn’t say anything if I were you.”
I was puzzled by her behavior, but I let the matter drop.
A door closed somewhere in the library, and she looked a bit alarmed. “Luna must be back. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
She hurried away, and I settled down at the table to work, but I’d barely had time to shuffle through the first stack of papers when Sidra returned with a couple of books. “Should be something in here about the cemetery,” she said. “It lists all the graveyards in the county.”
I glanced up. “You sure found that fast.”
“I know just about every book in this library. I’ve spent most of my life in here.”
“You must enjoy your work, then.” I smiled. “I love libraries, the older the better. Just like cemeteries.”
She said almost shyly, “I like cemeteries, too. I could help you go through some of this stuff if you’d like.”
“Luna wouldn’t mind?”
“I don’t have anything else to do,” she said and pulled out a chair. It had occurred to me while she’d been gone that she might know something about Freya. The girl had died before Sidra was born, but in a town this small, she was bound to have heard something. And she’d certainly reacted to the photograph in Luna’s office.
We worked in silence for a few minutes before I casually remarked, “I met your mother at Asher House the other night.”
“I heard.”
“She told you?”
“My mother never tells me anything, but I always manage to find out what I need to know.”
The hint of superiority sounded more like Ivy than Sidra. “After dinner, Thane and I went through some old boxes. I came across a photograph that reminded me of the one hanging in Luna’s office—that group photograph of her and your mother and Catrice. There was another girl in the background. Thane said her name was Freya Pattershaw.”
Sidra didn’t glance up, but I could sense a sudden tension and remembered her strong reaction that day in Luna’s office. I’d suspected then, as I did now, that she’d seen Freya’s ghost in that photograph.
“Have you ever heard that name?”
Her blue gaze lifted to mine, and something in those crystalline pools made me shiver. It was the dichotomy of light and dark, I
realized. “I’ve heard the name,” she said. “She was the bird woman’s daughter.”
“The bird woman?” I asked in confusion.
“Tilly Pattershaw. That’s what we call her.”
“Shouldn’t that nickname belong to Catrice? She’s the ornithologist.”
“Catrice studies birds,” Sidra said. “Tilly takes care of them. She’s a rescuer. And she probably knows as much or more about birds than anyone around here, including Catrice. You should see her yard. Sometimes they flock to her by the hundreds.”
I had a sudden vision of all those crows staring down at me. “Do you go out to her house often?”
Sidra gave a wary glance over her shoulder. “I’m not supposed to go out there ever. But I like birds. The little ones especially and the songbirds. Catrice studies predators.”
I tried to keep my voice mildly curious. “Why aren’t you allowed to go out there?”
Another pause. “Tilly’s not one of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not from Asher Falls.”
“But she’s lived here most of her life.”
“She’s still considered an outsider by people like my mother and Luna.”
Ironic, considering she’d probably lived here longer than they’d been alive. “Do you know what happened to Freya?” I asked.
“She died.”
“Yes, I know, but how?”
She hesitated with another cautious glance over her shoulder. “No one likes to talk about it, but…I’ve heard people say it was a fire. That’s how Tilly burned her hands. They say she tried to go in after her daughter.”
“That’s why she wears gloves,” I said.
“Always. I’ve never seen her without them even when she feeds the birds.”
“Where was the fire?”
“I don’t know. Some abandoned building in town. There was a party or something. That’s all I know. Except…” Her eyes were very cool and very blue but filled with something I couldn’t put a name to. Something that unsettled. “I don’t think they liked her much.”
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