Jagged lines tripped across the sky, lighting up the tree.
Someone stood just in front of it.
I froze, positive of what I’d seen. Even with the still-lingering streaks in my eyes, I knew what I’d seen. I’d seen a person.
But when the lightning flickered again, whoever or whatever it had been was gone.
I went to bed with my head aching and my skin still tingling. I’d almost fallen asleep in the shower, and might’ve passed on it all together, except that I was covered in mud from falling.
I woke up in the darkness of the early morning to Ginny shooting upright in the bed beside me. It took me a moment to get my bearings, after nearly falling out of bed at the shock. I hadn’t even known she was in my bed.
Why was she in my bed?
My brain cycled while she heaved panicked breaths, her hands double-fisting the sheets.
“Hey.” I sat up, reaching out to brush the hair from her face. “Are you okay? What happened?”
She shook her head, still gasping, and I realized she was crying.
“Ginny…” I wrapped my arms around her, and she melted into me. “Bad dream?”
She nodded and broke in a sob. “Always the same. The cold, the wind. Jaime screaming. I can’t reach him.”
Oh Lord. “Shhhh. It’s okay.” I ran my hand up and down her arm. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. You’re safe.”
“It’s my fault,” she sobbed. “We shouldn’t have been out there. I couldn’t reach him. It’s all my fault.”
“Hush now.” I kissed her head and rocked her gently. “It’s not your fault. It never was. It was just a horrible accident, and nothing anyone could do.”
She turned into me, her hands spreading across my chest, and her mouth was suddenly on mine, begging and taking.
I forced myself to push her back “Ginny…”
She sighed and let me this time. “This was his room, you know. Jaime’s.”
My mouth clicked shut sharply. “I know. Tom told me.”
“I wouldn’t even look at it for a long time. That first night, when I almost ran you over on the trail, that was the first time I’d been in here since…”
“Since he died?”
She nodded.
“Ginny, I want to help.”
She leaned in and kissed my chest. “You want to help? Then don’t stop.”
I took a deep breath while her hands wrapped around me. “I’m serious. There’s weird shit going down around here, and I want to help you. And your mother.”
She sighed, and looked up at me. “Aren’t you the one who told me to let the adults deal with it?”
“I know.” I pulled us back down, and she laid her head on my torso. “But I don’t like not being able to do anything.”
Ginny nodded, her fingers trailing down my bare skin. “I know, hon. I know.” She looked up at me, her eyes honest and her mask gone for a second. “But I don’t know what I can do even—let alone what anyone else can.” She curled in close again, resting her head on me. “Just being here makes me feel better. Like if you’re close, I can do anything.”
I exhaled hard. “Fuck, Ginny. I don’t… I’m not that person. I’m not the one that makes a difference. I’ve never been anything but a burden, or the kid who didn’t fit in. I can’t—”
“You are that person, Evan.”
I didn’t even know how to respond to that.
“I want to be. But I can’t be just a distraction, Ginny. I can’t do it.”
She kissed my sternum, then brushed over it with her fingers before whispering. “I know.”
She knew. So what did that mean? What was I supposed to say? I had no idea, no planned response.
So I didn’t say anything. I just curled my arm around her head and kissed her long and slow. Ginny snuggled in closer, and I pulled her tight, offering the only comfort I had to give.
Me.
I slid the suitcase into the car’s trunk alongside the rest and shut the lid with a wave at the driver. Running luggage wasn’t my favorite thing, but the guests were usually really nice, so I didn’t mind. The sedan drove off with hands waving out the window, and I smiled. Until I saw who was in the car heading towards me.
Jonathan Drayton.
Shit.
No Rolls-Royce limo for him today. He was driving himself in a seriously gussied up Bentley. Showing off the wealth, no doubt. Damn Richie.
I pulled out my phone and sent a warning text to Ginny as he pulled up, sliding the phone back in my cargos before he got out. He still glared down his nose at me.
“You. What was your name? Owen? Ethan?”
“Evan, sir.”
Be polite, I told myself. Even if you do want to take a large stick to him.
He waved me off. “Doesn’t matter. Where’s Catherine?”
“If you’ll wait a moment, I can find her for you.”
“You do that.” He didn’t even bother looking at me, just stared at the house like it was a steak he was thinking about how to cut up.
I tried not to snarl as I walked away. Instead I thought about how long it would take the authorities to find his body in the pond if I were to club him over the head and drop him in.
I found Ms. Catherine pacing in her office, and Ginnie with her. I didn’t even have to say anything. Ms. Catherine just turned to me, stood up straight, nodded, and walked out.
“Go get him, Ms. Catherine.”
She turned back with a half-smile. “Thank you, Evan.”
Ginny squeezed my arm. “Come on.”
“Ginny, are you sure…”
“Don’t even ask me that. Of course I’m sure.”
I followed her out and back downstairs. Mr. Drayton was right where I left him, scowling outside next to his car.
“I’m serious, Jonathan. I won’t be intimidated by you.”
“You of all people should realize just how easy it would be for me to make these problems go away. Or to make them destroy you. A stabbing, Catherine? Followed by an assault on a guest the very next day? And no leads from the authorities. Tsk tsk.”
“I’m not your wife anymore. Don’t you dare threaten me.”
“Or what? What will you do?” He stepped closer. “Turn my daughter against me? Call the police? Take me to court? We’ve been through all this before, and you know who won.”
Ginny’s hands threatened to rip off my arm. “God, I hate him,” she whispered through clenched teeth.
“You might check yourself there, Jonathan, dear. I came out just fine last time, and I will again.”
“You’ll lose, Catherine. You’ll lose Eyre House and everything else.” His hard brown eyes swung towards Ginny and me. “Virginia Jane! Let go of that boy and come with me. We’re leaving.”
Ginny held on tighter. “Like hell I will. What gives you the right to march in here, threaten my mother, and order me around?”
“I will not tolerate that kind of language out of my daughter.”
“Fuck off, Daddy.”
Mr. Drayton swung back to Ms. Catherine. “I cannot believe you allow this behavior. I knew this was a bad environment to bring her up in. You and your sordid—”
“Enough, Jonathan. She’s only saying what I feel. So take her advice and leave us both alone. She’s nineteen, and you haven’t got any authority over her anymore.”
“Well, I certainly don’t need to pay for her college, then.”
Ms. Catherine laughed. “Oh, Jonathan. Honey. Check the divorce decree. I think you’ll find you do.”
“Dammit Catherine! When my lawyers are finished with you and your precious little house, you’ll wish you’d been nicer to me.” He stepped in, looming close, but I’d had enough. I pulled away from Ginny and slipped in between them. It was hard not to smile at the fact that he actually had to look up just a little at me.
“Mr. Drayton.”
“Do you know who I am, boy?” His sneer brought my temper to an unhealthy simmer.
“Yes, Mr
. Drayton, I do, sir. But you heard Ms. Eyre. You need to leave.”
“I will leave when I get what I want.”
He moved to pass me, but I stepped back in his way. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, sir.”
“Get out of my way, boy! I saw how my daughter was hanging on you. Don’t think I won’t throw everything I have into your ruin. There won’t be even a dust particle left when I finish.”
“Sir. My name is Evan Richardson. I grew up in the foster system in Charleston. I don’t have anything for you to take from me. So feel free. But Ms. Catherine asked you to leave, and you will leave. I’d prefer it if it was under your own power.”
“Did you just threaten me?”
“Not at all, sir.”
He glared at me and tried to slide past again. I blocked his way. Finally, he snarled and turned. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, Catherine. As for you, Evan Richardson, or whoever you are, I’d watch your back. And that is a threat.”
The Bentley spun its wheels and spit gravel, but I stood my ground until it vanished down the drive. I glanced up at Eyre House, wondering why it looked so worn down and tired. Nothing I could put my finger on. The paint was fine—I’d just touched it up. But something about it felt older than usual. If the house had been a person, I’d expect it to sag or lean against a wall. I shook my head, wondering when I’d lost my mind, and followed the others inside to find someplace to collapse.
God, that was stupid. Really, really stupid.
Ginny attacked me as soon as we were in the foyer. “Evan! Good Lord, you were amazing!”
I wiped my hand down my face. “No, I wasn’t. That was a real idiot move on my part.”
“I still think it was fabulous, the way you stood up to him and wouldn’t let him pass.”
I groaned and sat down. “He made it pretty clear that he would make my life miserable for it.”
Ms. Catherine looked at me. “I’m sorry to have put you in that position, Evan. He likes to threaten people a lot. And unfortunately, he’s good at following through.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s done, and I don’t really regret it. He’s a major douche—sorry Ms. Catherine.”
She laughed. “No, you’re right. He is a douche. That would be why I divorced him.”
We all grinned, but it was strained.
Finally, she sighed, her eyes flickering back to her office. “Well. I have work to do. Thank you again, Evan.”
Ginny’s toe nudged me from where she sat. “Have you called Social Services yet?”
The change of topic surprised me. “Yeah, I did this morning.”
She flashed me a grin. “Good. What did they say?”
“Nothing, really. They just asked if I was willing to allow contact, made sure they had my info updated, and told me they’d pass it along.”
“They didn’t say anything about your family?”
I sighed, slightly annoyed. “Ginny, I don’t know that they are my family. They could have me mixed up with someone else, some other Evan Richardson.”
“They are yours, Evan. I know it.” And when she smiled at me that way, I almost believed her.
I woke as thunder rumbled softly in the distance, temporarily covering the sound of the steady rain. Ginny’s body shifted against mine as the house creaked, but she just mumbled something unintelligible and then fell quiet again. She’d crawled in with me after everyone had gone to bed, waking me up as she’d wiggled under my arm. I hadn’t complained. I liked lying next to her, even if all we did was sleep.
I liked it even more, actually, when all we did was sleep. It felt like it meant something.
I let my eyes drift half-closed while I listened to the rain outside. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to feel comfortable in a thunderstorm again after the tree incident. But this storm was quiet, and the thunder distant. The drops on the window threw patterns of almost-light across the room, turning kaleidoscopes behind my vision. It lulled me, my eyes shutting as sleep beckoned again, and the sound of the rain shifted as the wind blew softly. The house groaned again and quieted.
And then a different noise caught my attention. A sound almost like the wind, but not quite. And something else. Something I couldn’t place.
I let my eyes flicker open. Nothing. No light, no movement. I closed them and pulled myself closer to Ginny.
The noise came again—like water suddenly being released in a rush, but sharper. And then silence. I cracked my eyes, and still nothing but darkness and the patterns of the rain.
Silence, and I began to wonder if I was imagining things.
A floorboard creaked, sounding out of place, and the hand under my pillow gripped my knife. Time suspended itself in the soft tapping of the rain.
Thunder crashed, but I heard the second whining floorboard anyway. I shot upright, my knife opening with a snick.
“Evan? What’s going on?” Ginny’s quiet voice didn’t stop me from jumping out of my bed.
“Someone’s in here.”
“What do you mean? Evan. What in hell are you doing with a knife?”
My whole body was tense as I stared around the room, listening. There was no movement in the dark. “I swear, Ginny. Someone was here. I heard them.”
Ginny clicked on the bedside lamp, dispelling the shadows in amber light. Nothing. Nothing except an odd shape past the closet door.
It wasn’t big enough to be a person, and the form was all wrong. But it wasn’t right for anything else, either.
“Evan…”
I crept forward and flicked on the closet light. The blood rushed to my head, and my knife fell to the floor with a thud.
“Fuck my life.”
Ginny squeaked, her face a mask of horror. “God in heaven. Is that what I think it is?”
I turned back to her in slow motion, holding up my motorcycle jacket. Or what was left of it. Irregular strips of leather hung from the seams, fluttering as it moved. Even the arms were shredded.
“Lord, Evan…”
My mouth pushed into a thin, tight line as I stared. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, then looked straight at Ginny, daring her to contradict me.
“There’s no way in hell a ghost did this.”
Chapter Thirteen
The rain drummed on the hard top of Ginny’s Jeep as we sped through traffic. Ms. Catherine had insisted we drive into Charleston as soon as we’d finished the reports for both the police and the insurance. She’d even given Ginny her credit card with strict instructions to spend what we needed. I hadn’t wanted any of the fuss, but I’d found myself strongly outvoted by the two of them.
Which was how I ended up sitting in traffic next to Ginny, moving towards North Charleston and a bike shop I knew.
“Smile, Evan. You look like your dog just died.”
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “I need a haircut,” I mumbled. I hated when it got long.
“Not a chance. I like it like this, just starting to curl.” She reached over and ran her fingers through it, flashing me her trouble smile in the process.
I couldn’t help it. Her smile killed me and brought me back to life every time. I smiled back.
“Good. Now what’s the problem? Are you still angry about us ganging up on you?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t like having things bought for me.” That, and I was still more than a little bothered by finding irrefutable proof that someone had been in my room. Not to mention the fact that it could’ve been either of us the knife was used on, instead of my jacket.
“Well, get over it sugar. Seriously. If this had happened to a guest, you can bet we’d be replacing it, so just think about it like workman’s comp or something.”
Her fingers were still playing in my hair, and I couldn’t find it in me to disagree.
I sighed. “Ginny, I want to know what’s going on.”
Her smile faltered, and her hand returned to the wheel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
/>
“Ginny, they were in my room. While you were there. Either one of us could’ve been hurt this time.” My hands were straining into fists in my lap.
She stared out the windscreen, her voice tight. “I don’t know why any of this is happening, okay? I don’t know why, I don’t know what it has to do with me, and I don’t have answers to give you.”
I reached over and ran a finger down her cheek. “I’m just worried about you.”
She parked the Jeep and turned to me. “And maybe I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. But Ginny—”
She waved her hand at me and turned away. “Can we just drop this? Please? I told you, I don’t need rescuing.”
“It’s not about rescuing. It’s about some serious fucked-up shit going on, and while you’re not the only one affected, you’re definitely in the middle of it.”
She whipped back around with anger in her eyes. “You think I have something to do with this?”
“I’m not saying you’re doing it. I’m saying you’re involved. Everything that happens seems to center on you. It happens to the people around you.”
She gave me a hard look and jumped out of the Jeep without a word.
Nice going, asshole.
She needed to hear it, though. And I needed to say it. I dropped my head back onto the headrest with a sigh and got out.
By the time I made it inside, Ginny was already going through the racks with a determined look. The bike shop had a pretty large selection of jackets, and I watched as she bounced from rack to rack while I hung back. She didn’t say anything, though, apart from the occasional comment on a jacket or style. And she didn’t look at me.
The classic chopper jackets were awesome, but they made me feel like some greaser out of the ‘50’s. Ginny seemed to agree because, after silently holding a few up to my chest, she moved on. The racing jackets were a no-go altogether.
“They remind me of some speed-freak punk,” Ginny said, holding one up. I agreed.
Eyre House Page 14