Shades of Winter

by Linda Fallon

  Lucien’s heart skipped a beat. A chill rushed through his too warm body. “Should they go up there?” he asked. “I don’t think it’s safe.”

  “I’m sure O’Hara will be cautious,” Hugh said.

  Deep inside, Lucien knew the third floor wasn’t safe. He didn’t know how, or why, but something that remained of Scrydan in his conscious mind knew no one should go to the third floor. What was up there? The knowledge was in his head, locked away, waiting like the name of an old acquaintance that sits on the tip of your tongue.

  “Stop them,” Lucien said in a low voice.

  Hugh took one look at Lucien, saw that he was serious, and then turned to run into the hallway. “O’Hara,” he called. And then he ran for the stairway that led to the third floor.

  Lucien turned his eyes to Eve. “I love you,” he said softly. The vow only brought more tears to her eyes. “No matter what happens here, remember that.”

  “Is he … still inside you? Can you tell?”

  Lucien nodded. “He’s still here, but he’s hindered at the moment, somehow, and he’s weak. Weaker than he has been. It’s as if he’s not all here.”

  “There is a part of him in the house, right?” Eve asked. “Do you think that since you’re restrained he’s directing his energies elsewhere?”

  It was a frightening thought. They still had no idea what Scrydan could do. They didn’t really know how powerful he was. “Perhaps,” Lucien admitted.

  The door to the chamber where he was imprisoned swung violently shut. One by one other doors in the house slammed closed. All along the corridor, above their heads, below, the house shuddered with the din and vibration of doors slamming.

  On the heels of that vibration there was the startling sound of something, someone, falling. Tumbling. There was a low, muffled grunt, and then a final thud.

  On the third floor, someone screamed.

  Eve jumped to her feet and ran to the door, reaching out to tug on the doorknob. The door didn’t budge.

  “Save your energy,” Lucien said. He knew just how Eve felt, as she continued to tug and finally kick at the door. He had tried for a very long time to open the front door to this damned hotel, when it had first imprisoned him here. “Scrydan is holding the door closed.”

  From the sound of it, Scrydan was holding all the doors in the hotel closed. And someone, probably Hugh, considering the timing and the direction the noise had come from, had taken a nasty spill down the stairs.

  “Whatever you do,” he said as Eve stopped pounding on the door. “Stay calm.”

  “Stay calm?” Eve stalked to the bed to glare down at him. Her beautiful eyes sparked to life with a green flame. “You’re possessed, you left me at the altar for a second time, and I’m trapped here. Trapped! By snow and an evil spirit and … and by the fact that I love you so much I can’t possibly leave you here.”

  Lucien knew without a doubt that love would either save them or kill them both.

  Ten

  The swinging of the door had snuffed out the candle O’Hara had been carrying, and left the room they’d just entered completely dark. All Daisy could see was the outline of the uncovered window. Hysteria bubbled up in her throat and she let it loose. Again.

  “Stop screaming,” O’Hara said in a low voice as he tugged at the closed door.

  “I don’t think I can,” she admitted.

  Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. She still couldn’t see much, but the little bit of moonlight that broke through the window allowed her to make out O’Hara’s outline as he continued to pull on the door.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” Daisy whispered. “It’s Scrydan, holding the door closed.”

  “Yes,” O’Hara answered. “And I think I heard someone fall down the stairs. It was difficult to tell, with all the screaming going on.”

  Daisy lifted her chin bravely. “There’s no need to be testy.”

  He quit fighting the door and turned to her. She saw his form, but not his face. “There is every need to be testy,” he said softly. “We should have settled for the few candles we have left and firelight, to pass the night. That would have been sufficient.”

  “I know, but the lobby is so dark, without those extra candles …” She’d much rather be in the dark lobby than here. Hadn’t Lionel warned everyone to avoid the third floor? And yet here she was, imprisoned in a small hotel room with no one to protect her but O’Hara.

  Someone … something … in the corner of the room giggled. Daisy held her breath. The soft giggle came again, and Daisy was frozen to the spot.

  O’Hara walked past Daisy, toward the corner. “Stay here,” he whispered as he walked past.

  It was an unnecessary instruction. Where did he think she was going to go?

  No moonlight shone in the corners of the room, but O’Hara walked forward without hesitation. When he was close enough, he laid his hand on the wall. The soft, indistinct giggle turned into words so low Daisy had no hope of deciphering them. But they were words. They were words that crept under her skin and grabbed hold of her bones and shimmied.

  “Moreen,” O’Hara said in a low voice. “You are Moreen, are you not?”

  The answer was a hissing sound. A yes, perhaps?

  “Moreen,” O’Hara continued, “you’re dead. You don’t belong here anymore.”

  More sharp twittering followed, and even though Daisy couldn’t tell what Moreen said, she suspected it was not pleasant.

  “You’re not going to kill anyone,” O’Hara said calmly. “You can’t. You have no body with which to harm us. All you can do is scare a sweet lady who has done you no harm.” He turned his head to look toward Daisy. She couldn’t tell, in the dark, if he was smiling or not. “Don’t let her scare you,” he added in a lower voice. “Don’t let anything that happens here scare you. It’s what he wants.”

  Scrydan. He was trying to use the souls he’d trapped here to frighten them all, to produce a tangible fear he could feed on. And when he was stronger, he would take over Lucien completely.

  “I understand,” she said softly. “I really do. But how am I supposed to remain unafraid when I’m trapped in a room with a ghost?”

  O’Hara walked slowly toward her. “Not worried about being trapped in here with me?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Of course not. You’re a perfect gentleman.”

  He laughed lightly. “Actually, I’m not a gentleman at all.” He stopped when he stood just a few feet away. “And I’m definitely not perfect. But you’re right. You don’t have to worry about being trapped with me.”

  “I thought not.” Oddly enough, that was the truth.

  A tremble worked its way through Daisy’s body when the ghost in the corner, Moreen, made another of those annoying hissing noises.

  “If we’re not afraid,” O’Hara said calmly, “if we don’t let her scare us, she’ll go, sooner or later.”

  For the life of her, Daisy could not think of a way to wash away her fear. Logically she knew O’Hara was right, but her heart was pounding much too fast and she couldn’t take a deep breath. “But if she leaves,” Daisy whispered, “will another one take her place?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps.”

  A muffled voice drifted into the room. At first O’Hara turned his head toward the door, but when the muted shout came again he rushed to the window and threw it open. A cold wind rushed in, pushing back the lightweight curtains and the tail end of O’Hara’s jacket. Daisy ran to stand beside him and look down. Lionel and Buster stood there, looking up at all the windows as they continued to walk along the perimeter of the hotel.

  O’Hara leaned partially out of the window. “Up here!”

  Lionel put his hands on his hips. “What are you doing on the third floor?”

  “We came up here looking for candles,” O’Hara shouted down.

  “We?” Lionel repeated.

  Daisy leaned forward so the men below could see her. “Hello,” she said timidly.

  “
Daisy!” Buster yelled. “Are you all right?”

  Of course she wasn’t all right! How could he ask such a thing? “I’m fine,” she said, hoping to soothe Buster’s fears on her behalf. There was no need to tell him that there was a ghost in this room.

  “So far we can’t get any of the doors or the ground floor windows to open,” Lionel bellowed.

  “We can’t get the door to this room open, either,” O’Hara explained loudly. “I suspect every door in the house is tightly closed.”

  “Why don’t we just break a window?” Buster suggested sensibly. “We could get inside that way, and maybe once we’re …”

  “No,” Lionel said sharply. “I believe breaking a window would be an incredibly unwise course of action.”

  O’Hara just nodded. “Do you think you could find your way to Elijah’s house? You two can’t stay out in this cold indefinitely.”

  “I saw the direction he took this morning,” Lionel said. “Once I get close enough I’ll be able to find him. Still, I hate to leave you all here.”

  “Go,” O’Hara said. “There’s no telling how long it will be before the doors open.”

  That matter-of-fact statement did nothing to calm Daisy’s nerves.

  Buster spoke up. “We can get the horses, go to town, and bring back some help.”

  Lionel nodded, not happy to be leaving but accepting that it was, perhaps, the best way.

  As they walked around the corner of the hotel, O’Hara closed the window with a resounding thud.

  Eve tugged at the doorknob, even though she knew full well that it wasn’t going to open.

  She finally turned to face the bed and her bound fiancé. Lucien sat with his back against the headboard. His head dipped down, and long strands of dark hair fell over his pale cheeks to conceal much of his face. It had been three days since he’d shaved, and the uncontrolled channeling of so many spirits—and the powerful possession by Scrydan—had drained him. His bare chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths, but to her eyes he looked barely alive.

  Her heart broke a little. No matter what had happened, she hated to see him tied up this way, his hands and feet bound so that he was spread-eagle on the bed.

  He slowly lifted his head and looked at her. “Let me go,” he whispered.

  She wanted to do just that. Lucien shouldn’t be tied up this way. It wasn’t right. But she couldn’t. She shook her head.

  “If you love me, Eve, you’ll release me.” His voice was low and smooth, and it cut her to the quick.

  This wasn’t Lucien. “I can’t. You know that.”

  “After everything we’ve shared,” he whispered. “How could you let them do this to me? I’m cold, Eve. I’m hungry. I want to wrap my arms around you and kiss that sweet mouth of yours until you beg me to take you. Come to me. Untie me and feed me and make me warm again.”

  She shook her head. “Open the doors.”

  He smiled. The thing on the bed had Lucien’s face, Lucien’s voice, Lucien’s body. But that was not Lucien’s smile. “Let’s make a deal, lover. You let me go, and I’ll unlock the doors.”

  “That’s not much of a deal, is it?” she asked. “You’ll kill us all if you get the chance.”

  “Not you,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Lucien won’t let me kill you.” His brow furrowed, as if he could not comprehend the concept.

  “What about the others?”

  He shrugged, the motion subdued thanks to his position on the bed. “What do they matter? They’re nothing. They’re annoying insects who mean so very little. The two of us, we can walk out of here and start a new life somewhere else. Anywhere else.” He smiled at her. “When I get out of here, you’ll be amazed at the things I can do for you. I have magic inside me. Power. Nothing can stop me. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  “I want Lucien,” she whispered.

  “Almost anything,” he said with a wry smile. “Do you wish to be famous? Rich? Beautiful?”

  Eve turned her back on him. She couldn’t bear to see that evil spirit talking out of Lucien’s mouth! “I won’t let you go,” she said.

  “Yes, you will,” Scrydan said to her back. “Eventually. I can wait. The others, they’re going to make me stronger. By morning I’ll be able to free myself. I’m not so sure the man in the hallway can wait until morning,” he said casually. “I suspect he’ll be dead long before then.”

  “Hugh,” Eve whispered.

  “Release me,” Scrydan said again. “And I’ll let them all live. You and I can walk out of here together, and I’ll allow these simpletons you call friends to live. We’re talking about a difference of a few hours, no more. I’m already getting stronger. Soon I won’t need you at all. The girl above,” he said, briefly turning his eyes to the ceiling, “she’s going to be particularly tasty. She’s been filled with fear for a very long time. She began to feed me the minute she walked through the door.”

  “Daisy?” Eve turned to look at the monster on the bed. “You leave Daisy alone, do you hear me?”

  “If you insist, lover. She can be safe. She can remain untouched. It’s up to you, of course. All you have to do is untie these ropes that bind me.”

  Eve shook her head.

  Scrydan glared at her. “You’ve been possessed before,” he whispered. “I see it in you.”

  “Twice,” she said. “Very briefly.”

  “I can enter your body in more than one way. Not as easily as I can take this one, and I can’t stay within you as long, but I can certainly control you long enough to make you untie these ropes.” He tugged violently, and the headboard shook and creaked.

  “If that’s possible, why haven’t you done it already?” Eve asked, taking a single step toward the bed, her mind spinning. “Spread a little bit too thin, perhaps? This is a quiet room. You’re not as strong here as you are in other parts of the house. It must be a real struggle to keep all the doors closed and control the spirits and hold onto Lucien at the same time. You’re afraid to completely let go of Lucien, because you know when you do he’ll be in control and you won’t find your way back. Once he regains complete control, he can block you.”

  Eve could tell by the expression on his face that he was perturbed by her observations. She must be at least partially right.

  “You think I’m weak here in this room?” he whispered. The fire in the fireplace roared to life, and a cold wind came out of nowhere to whip around Eve, making her full white skirt billow and dance.

  “Parlor tricks,” she said.

  Lionel said Scrydan had slipped into sleeping, unaware bodies, during his years in this hotel. He’d entered through dreams, taken control, and under his direction perfectly ordinary people had turned into murderers. Some had committed suicide. But his possession of these people had been draining for him, and short-lived. How long had he been able to stay inside? Minutes, perhaps? Not long, and not easily.

  He’d slipped into Lucien more easily, since Lucien’s gift was accepting the messages and spirits of those who had passed on. It was Lucien’s gift that made this possession possible, not Scrydan’s power.

  As long as she stayed alert and awake, she didn’t think he could use her body to untie Lucien, as he’d threatened. Besides, he really didn’t want to let go of this receptive body he had found. If he did, what was left of Lucien might be able to block him from returning, and he didn’t want to risk that possibility.

  Unless he grew stronger and was somehow able to control them both. That wouldn’t happen unless the others in the house were so filled with fear that they did, indeed, feed him well.

  “You might as well let Lucien go, Scrydan,” she said. “You can’t win, not this time.”

  “Lover,” he answered. “I always win.”

  Katherine tugged on the door between the kitchen and the dining room, while Garrick banged on the door that opened onto the back porch. By the light of one measly candle, they both struggled in vain.

  There was one small window i
n the kitchen. It was certainly not large enough to fit Garrick, but she could probably squeeze through.

  That wasn’t an option. Not only was that window stuck, she didn’t relish the idea of being alone outside the house. In the cold.

  Frustrated, Katherine turned around—opening her mouth to tell Garrick that they were wasting their time—and there before her stood Jerome.

  She couldn’t make a sound. Her entire body was numb. The ghost before her was misty, a vaporous vision of her dead husband, and Jerome smiled the way he always had right before he’d beat her.

  “Go away,” she finally whispered. “You’re dead.”

  Garrick spun around. For a moment she thought he’d think her crazy. But he saw Jerome, too.

  “You still mourn me,” Jerome said, reaching out a ghostly hand to almost touch her black gown.

  “I still despise you.” Her heart beat too fast, and her voice trembled.

  Jerome’s misty hand went through her, and she felt his ghostly caress. His touch was like ice. “You didn’t always despise me.”

  Garrick circled around the nasty shade to stand beside her. Instinctively she reached out and took his arm. She held tightly onto the warm, substantial man, so she wouldn’t fall to the floor.

  “He’s here,” she whispered. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

  “You’ve seen him before, right?” Garrick asked in a low voice.

  “Not like this,” Katherine admitted. “I’ve sensed him, several times. I’ve turned quickly on occasion and caught a glimpse of … something. But I’ve never actually seen his ghost.”

  Jerome grinned. Oh, she hated that grin! “You see me now, don’t you, sugar? I’m home, and I’m not ever leaving you again. You’re mine, forever. Now, lie down on the floor and spread your legs for me.”

  “You’re not real,” she whispered. “Go away!”

  “Never,” Jerome whispered. “I will always be with you. You will never be rid of me. I will haunt you till the day you die, and when you join me we’ll be together for eternity.”