“He was there on the street with you. He made you think you were somewhere else, but it was all just an illusion. I’ve seen him do it before.”
“Are you talking about hypnosis?”
“Drugs, hypnosis. I don’t know how he does it. But I once saw him convince a woman she had snakes crawling inside her body. I thought she would claw her skin off before we could subdue her. Darius just laughed and called it a parlor trick.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“He enjoys having power over people.”
“And gray dust gives him power?”
“So he would have you think.” Devlin turned to face me. “What else did he say to you?”
“That he would come to me in my dreams and no amulet or spell or mojo bag could stop him. Nor could you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Devlin said with clenched fists.
I got up and went over to him. “What are you going to do?”
“Something that should have been done years ago.” I could sense that restless tension in him again, and it scared me.
“What does that mean?” When he didn’t answer, I placed a hand on his sleeve. “Why do you have so much animosity for Darius Goodwine? It isn’t just about the gray dust, is it? Your quarrel with him is personal. Does it have something to do with Mariama?”
He turned and caught my arms, his dark eyes glittering coldly. “I don’t give a damn about Mariama.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I actually gasped, my gaze going at once to the back garden where I was sure Mariama must lurk. The way he said her name so coldly, so contemptuously, seemed almost like blasphemy. She had once broken a window in my office out of anger. She’d shoved me down in Clementine’s garden and knocked her own portrait off the wall in Devlin’s house. What manner of vengeance she would seek for this desecration of her memory, I could only wonder and dread.
Devlin was still holding my arms. His face was a dark, impassive mask except for those glittering eyes. Slowly, he brought me to him, one hand sliding up into my hair as he lowered his mouth to mine.
“You’re the one I care about,” he murmured against my lips.
For one insecure moment, I thought he might be trying to convince himself as much as me. Then I wasn’t sure I even cared. Not while he stood so close. Not with that dark promise shimmering in his eyes.
His lips moved to my ear and nipped at the lobe. “You’re the one I want,” he drawled, and I was lost. Utterly and completely and perhaps stupidly lost.
It was then that I realized Devlin had magic of his own because somehow I found myself backed up against the wall, and I had no memory of how I’d gotten there. He stood in front of me, blocking me from the garden as if he could sense Mariama’s presence and wanted to protect me. I could see little beyond the windows, but I had no doubt she was out there, seething with rage.
If I hadn’t already been in a precarious state, maybe I would have found the strength to push him away. We were asking for trouble, and Mariama would surely see that we got it.
But the drug still held me enthralled. I was trapped in the haze of that blue powder and had no will of my own.
The ties of my bathrobe had loosened and Devlin shoved it aside to trail kisses along my bare shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to mine as his hands slid inside the robe. And all the while, he continued to kiss me. Even when my knees weakened, even when I shivered uncontrollably, he kept right on kissing me and didn’t stop for a very long time.
* * *
At some point we relocated to the chaise. I lay curled in Devlin’s arms, my head nestled beneath his chin as I rested a hand on his chest, basking in the afterglow of all that kissing. He was very good at it. I knew from our past that he was good at other things, too, but I wouldn’t think about that. Best not to rush. Our passion had once opened a terrible door, and I had no doubt the Others would yet again be drawn to our heat. We were safe in my sanctuary, at least for now, and I told myself I should be content to live only in the moment.
But I could already feel the exchange of energy, the stealthy siphoning of my warmth as Devlin unwittingly replenished his life force with mine. One of the ironies of falling for a haunted man. My haven protected me from his ghosts, but hallowed ground couldn’t shield me from him.
We hadn’t spoken or moved for a very long time, but now I felt him stir restlessly. His lips skimmed my hair, and I closed my eyes on a shiver.
“Tell me about Asher Falls,” he said.
The low rumble of his drawl vibrated against my cheek. I wanted to press myself even more closely to his heart, but instead, I pulled away. “I don’t like to talk about that place. I’m never going back, so why does it matter?” Although at the very mention, I felt a pang of loneliness for some of the people I’d left behind. Not just Thane Asher, but Tilly and Sidra. The two women—one old, one young—had had a profound effect on me. But, no matter, I wouldn’t be returning to Asher Falls. It was too dangerous.
“Did you meet someone there?” Devlin’s voice was carefully devoid of inflection.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because there’s a new wariness about you. A guardedness that won’t let me in. You seem stronger and yet more vulnerable at the same time.”
“I don’t think I was guarded at all a few minutes ago.”
“You know what I mean. There’s a reason you don’t want to talk about Asher Falls. What happened there?”
I gave a deep sigh and relented. “There was a man,” I said reluctantly.
“Were you in love with him? Are you in love with him?”
I answered quickly. “No. I might have been if I’d met him first. Now there will never be anyone else for me.”
His arms tightened around me. “Such a romantic,” he murmured.
“Actually, I’m a pragmatist. I just know myself really well.”
A frown fleeted across his face. “But you don’t know me.”
“You are a mystery,” I agreed. “There’s something I’ve always wondered about. You were so quick to warn me about Dr. Shaw and the Institute when we first met. You had such utter disdain for his work. And yet, I found out from Ethan that you were once Dr. Shaw’s protégé. A paranormal investigator, of all things. I find that so hard to believe.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said, his fingers idly sifting through my hair. “I was looking for any possible means to annoy my grandfather, and that seemed as good a way as any.”
“It’s an odd way to rebel. Drinking, partying…that I understand. But the occult?”
“Ethan was my best friend, don’t forget. I was exposed to a lot of strange things through his father.”
“Including Mariama?”
His fingers paused in my hair for a fraction. “She was the ultimate rebellion.”
“Because of her race? Because of where she came from?”
“All of that. She was exotic and mysterious and she had an uncanny way of knowing when and how to push buttons. She was scandalous in my grandfather’s circles, and I enjoyed that for a while.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more, and yet, a part of me listened eagerly. Despite what Devlin claimed about me, he was the guarded one. He didn’t like to share anything of himself, and so I knew these glimpses into his past, into the man, even into his relationship with Mariama, were moments to be cherished.
“Was it love at first sight?” I asked cautiously.
He grew pensive. “I’m not sure it was ever love. But whatever we had…it was powerful. All-consuming at first. And then Shani came along and everything changed. With my daughter, it was most definitely was love at first sight.” His voice softened, and I heard a catch when he said Shani’s given name.
He fell silent, and I knew that he’d revealed all he intended to for one night. He’d told me a lot, actually, and now I had to get something off my chest.
“I need to tell you something,” I said after a moment.
“I’m not sure I like your ominous tone.”
“It’s a confession.”
He paused as if to brace himself. “Let’s hear it.”
“I didn’t learn about gray dust from Dr. Shaw. We did have a conversation, but I already knew what it was. I went to the Institute specifically to ask him some questions about it.”
“I thought as much. How did you learn about it?”
“I overheard you and Ethan talking about it the other night at your house. It was the night I came to see you. I’d parked down the street, remember?”
“Because you were afraid you wouldn’t have the nerve to knock on my door.”
“I made it all the way to the steps and then I heard voices. I didn’t want you to find me there so I hid in the bushes beside the veranda. Another of my impulses,” I said ironically. “After that it was too embarrassing to reveal myself. You have no idea how mortified I am admitting this to you even now.”
“How much of that conversation did you hear?”
“All of it.”
I could tell he was thinking back.
“I’m sorry. I should never have eavesdropped. It was very wrong of me, but then you were both so tense when you talked about gray dust and Darius Goodwine, and I’ll admit, I became curious.”
“So you went to see Rupert Shaw.”
“Yes, and he had a similar reaction. He told me I shouldn’t repeat anything of what was said in his office.”
“At least he had the presence of mind to warn you,” Devlin said.
“Why did I need to be warned? What is gray dust, really? I know it’s a plant derivative that supposedly stops the heart and allows the user to cross over to the spirit world. I can understand why someone might be tempted to take it if they’ve lost a loved one, but otherwise…” I shivered. “If Darius Goodwine isn’t in it for the money, what does he get out of bringing it here?”
“You can’t be a god without true believers,” Devlin said.
“Does he really have that kind of power?”
“He has tricks and illusions. Some people don’t know the difference.”
“Are you sure that’s all he has?”
“You don’t still think you were somehow magically transported to that house on America Street tonight, do you?”
“It just seemed so real.”
“That’s why gray dust is so insidious and why Darius Goodwine is so dangerous. If he can make someone like you believe, think of the influence he has over people who are weaker and more gullible.”
Someone like you. If he only knew.
“He has to be stopped,” Devlin said.
“Why do I still get the feeling you’re not speaking as a cop?”
“My motivation is immaterial. People die when he’s around. That’s reason enough.”
“Did you go see Darius the night after Mariama and Shani’s accident?”
“So you heard that, too.” He stared up at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell a thing from his expression. “I don’t know what happened that night. When I think back, all I have are bits and pieces of memories that don’t make a lot of sense.”
“Do you remember seeing Robert Fremont?”
He gave me a frowning glance. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because when the police wanted to question you, Ethan gave you an alibi. There must have been a reason why he thought you needed one.”
“Maybe you should ask Ethan why he felt so compelled.” Devlin’s eyes flashed, but his expression remained passive. “I didn’t kill Fremont, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I never thought for a moment that you did.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Devlin said darkly. “But I had a motive. The oldest one in the book. He was having an affair with my wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A little while later, I let Angus out into the back garden, but I didn’t stay out there with him as I should have. My confrontation with Darius Goodwine—whether imagined or real—and my time with Devlin had left me shaken, and the last thing I wanted was a face-to-face with Mariama’s ghost. I had no idea what kind of power she possessed from the grave, but I had a feeling what she’d shown me so far was merely the tip of the iceberg.
I wandered aimlessly down the hallway, a premonition of impending doom dogging my every step. It was strange to think that for so many years, my fear of ghosts had stemmed almost solely from their parasitic nature. The ravenous craving of human warmth and energy that sustained their presence in the living world. Now I knew it was possible for ghosts to cause physical harm, perhaps even death. I couldn’t help but shudder when I thought of how far Mariama might go to keep Devlin and me apart. Not even Papa’s rules could protect me from the wrath of a vengeful specter.
In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face, then glanced in the mirror where a pale, gaunt woman stared back at me. The dark circles under my eyes were even more pronounced tonight, and my pupils seemed abnormally dilated. I wondered if that was a side effect from the blue powder. Or had one of Darius Goodwine’s minions managed to slip something in my drink at dinner?
Why he would order such a thing, I could only imagine. Maybe he really did want to get to Devlin through me, but after tonight, I had a feeling his motivation had shifted. He’d been very interested in my communication with Robert Fremont and my legacy as a caulbearer. That makes you special and very powerful, he’d said. But I didn’t feel so powerful at the moment. Mostly, I felt confused and out of my depth.
All of this was assuming my conversation with him had even been real. Devlin seemed convinced I’d been the victim of a trick or an illusion, and I wanted to believe that, as well. Darius Goodwine’s claim that he could come to me in my dreams was a whole new threat, one that took away the safety net of hallowed ground. In dreams, there would be no boundaries or safe havens. My only defense against him would be insomnia.
Maybe he really was nothing more than a hypnotist or a clever illusionist who preyed on the weak and the susceptible. But I was a woman who saw ghosts, a woman who had been hounded by evil. I knew firsthand there were things that couldn’t be explained by any living world rationale, so, unlike Devlin, I couldn’t discount the possibility of a man who had tapped into the power of the spirit world. A man who could traverse both sides of the veil and visit me in my dreams.
Pushing all that aside for the moment, I tried to focus on something more productive—like solving Robert Fremont’s murder. But those were hardly soothing thoughts, either. The possibility that a man I respected and admired could be guilty of poisoning his wife was deeply troubling. The only thing more distressing was the revelation of Devlin’s motive. The oldest one in the book.
Why had Fremont not told me about the affair? His selective amnesia was beginning to seem just a little too convenient.
Why did I suddenly have a feeling that I was being played, not only by Robert Fremont and Darius Goodwine, but by other forces in the universe?
The text message from Devlin—or whomever—had been sent to bring me back from Asher Falls. The nightingale on that first night was meant to lure me into Clementine’s garden so that I would see Devlin and Isabel Perilloux. So that I would once again be pulled into his orbit. Everything was connected, but the links were too random. All the clues were there, I was certain, but I couldn’t yet see the whole picture.
Could Mariama have been the woman who’d been with Fremont before he died? Although I’d never associated a scent with her, maybe it was her perfume that clung to him. On some level, I’d entertained those suspicions all along, but my jealousy of Isabel Perilloux had made me too quick to point the finger at her. But didn’t everything always come back to Mariama?
Her betrayal must have been a terrible blow to Devlin. Even if the love had waned by that time, something had remained. An emotion so powerful it had brought Mariama back from the dead and kept her here, draining Devlin of his warmth and energy. I had a terrible feeling she would still be at his
side long after I was gone.
Pacing back to my office, I allowed Angus a little extra time to explore while I glanced through Dr. Shaw’s book. Then I went to the back door to call him in. When he didn’t come at once, I stepped outside. I hadn’t bothered with slippers, so I went no farther than the terrace. I called again and was just starting to get a little uneasy when he loped out of the shadows, fur bristled in agitation.
Quickly, I scanned the garden, probing all the dark corners. The breeze had risen, and the tinkle of the wind chimes set my nerves on edge. Nothing moved in the garden except for the rustling palmettos. But something was out there. Something wasn’t right about that wind. It didn’t come from any weather front. It came from the other side.
As if to confirm my suspicion, a gust tore at my hair and whipped at my robe. I shivered but held my ground even as Angus growled beside me. I reached down to give him a tense pat, my gaze moving across the yard to where the swing swayed in the breeze. A cloud moved over the moon, throwing the garden into darkness, and I could feel a perverted chill creeping through the shadows toward me. Not Shani or Mariama, I was almost certain, but some unknown spirit that had made its way to me. Some restless phantom seeking my help along with my warmth and energy.
I could see nothing in the darkness. No glowing eyes or aura. No humanlike form floating through the bushes. But I sensed a presence. I could feel it watching me. That dead gaze was like a spider-crawl up my spine.
Was this a test? I wondered. A trial run to see if I had the mettle for a higher calling.
Should I put out a hand? Should I try to make contact?
All of this raced through my mind in the space of a heartbeat. So paralyzed was I by indecision, I didn’t notice at first that the wind had died away. The garden had gone very still as if the night waited in breathless anticipation for my answer.
I didn’t move or utter a sound. Neither did I pretend indifference. I stood there with quivering legs and pounding heart, almost daring the ghost to manifest.
In the split second before the moon popped back out, I could have sworn I saw a revealing shimmer. A fusty odor drifted across the garden, mingling with the datura, and I could almost hear the whisper of Papa’s voice in my ear. Go inside, Amelia. Hurry! Do not tempt fate, child. Do not acknowledge another ghost’s presence. You are already in far deeper than you know.
The Prophet (Graveyard Queen) Page 19