Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  “Confront Lisette?” Ginger choked. “We shouldn’t get her mad, should we?”

  Janice could see the genuine fright in Ginger’s eyes as she spirited away a tiny slip of tuna salad from her lower lip.

  “She’s a kind spirit,” Janice reminded. “She’s not dangerous, just determined. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Is that why the men have let us have some breathing space?” Ginger asked. “I thought we were supposed to stay together.” She gave a familiar shiver.

  Muriel bent over and patted her fingers.

  “You can relax, my dear. Jasper’s on watch. His precognition has returned and he’s assured me that he’ll know in plenty of time if we’re about to encounter one of our ghosts.”

  “Then why is Adrian afraid for Janice?” Ginger asked.

  Afraid! The word chilled Janice and she took a long, cool sip of Coke, thinking on it. Why was Adrian afraid for her? Unsure, she inclined her head toward Ginger.

  “Is he?”

  “While we were fixing sandwiches a moment ago, he was comparing notes with Lloyd,” Muriel cut in. “Adrian’s concerned about his apparent blackout as the baron … my dear, was he really the baron?” Muriel broke off, not quite used to the story yet.

  “He was.”

  Muriel clucked sympathetically, picking up the tale again.

  “It worries him. He has no recollection of the takeover, while you, according to Adrian, had an extreme physical jolt and displacement as Lisette.”

  Janice jiggled the ice against the side of her glass and watched the carbonation fizz.

  “It’s not as odd as it seems. Adrian uses his telepathic abilities daily. He has great practice moving in and out of the two worlds he lives in. I, on the other hand, have to wait for the other side to contact me with the message or picture.”

  “So Lisette had no trouble breaking through your mental barriers,” Ginger surmised astutely. “Then why did she displace your mind?”

  Janice dipped her head.

  “I believe she felt if I experienced her pain and loneliness, I might be more agreeable to helping her. And from that, I might encourage all of you to help her.”

  “And has she convinced you?” Muriel asked. “To help her, I mean?”

  Janice felt as if a hand had closed around her throat. Was she convinced? Not if it meant surrendering her body to Adrian’s masterful seduction. If only she could openly express her growing fear to the women. More and more, the solution to their freedom seemed to hinge on her and Adrian. Aware that Muriel was still waiting, she arched her eyebrow and gave a hesitant shrug. Muriel leaned forward.

  “Let’s be frank between us women. Something happened between you and Adrian when the glass shattered this evening at dinner. Adrian will only admit to seeing an image. I would like to know what that image was. In fact, I believe we all have a right to know. Though I pretend to be composed, I’m not. I don’t relish being murdered in a crawlspace.”

  Janice saw Ginger’s apprehensive jerk at the image, and contained one of her own.

  “Neither do I,” she agreed.

  Muriel’s frown deepened. “If you’re hesitating to spare Ginger’s feelings, we can’t afford the luxury of being considerate at the moment. I sense what you saw was … embarrassing in some way?”

  Janice lowered her voice.

  “More unnerving than embarrassing. The image was an erotic one and extremely graphic.”

  “The baron and Lisette,” Ginger exclaimed with a smile.

  “That’s what I thought at first, too,” Janice agreed, pleased to hear someone else jump to the most obvious conclusion.

  “But something has changed your mind,” Muriel coaxed. “You don’t believe anymore that’s what you saw.”

  Janice marveled at Muriel’s accurately reading her thoughts. She leaned forward, eager to relieve her mind and conscience.

  “Remember the portrait of Lisette down in the gallery? According to Lloyd, she came to America straight from the convent life. Yet, when I saw the portrait for the first time, I was filled with a sense of wildness. That portrait is not an innocent young maiden.”

  Ginger shifted in her chair and Janice saw her face light with eagerness. She was getting into the mystery.

  “She had a lover,” she concluded seconds later. “That’s the only answer.”

  “But she was only eighteen and convent-raised,” Janice countered.

  “Girls matured early in those days, were sold off to older husbands,” Ginger reinforced quickly. “She was young and beautiful. Perhaps an admirer seduced her.”

  “No.” Janice shook her head decisively.

  “Why do you say that so emphatically?” Muriel asked. “Ginger’s right, not all girls back then came to their wedding beds as virgins.”

  “She was. I’d swear to it.”

  “But why?”

  “Because of the baron.”

  A thoughtful silence fell among the women and Janice took that time to relive the moment in the assembly room when the baron had sought her kiss. He had been gentle in his asking, a considerate lover, one approaching an innocent virgin.

  “What did the baron want, Janice?”

  She didn’t pretend ignorance.

  “To kiss Lisette.”

  “How utterly romantic!” Muriel responded. Janice felt a warm flush steal over her cheeks at Muriel’s glib phrase. “And did you oblige the baron?” Muriel prodded.

  “No, of course not!” Janice scoffed. “It wasn’t really the baron.”

  “You just said you spoke to the baron.”

  “I did. But he was speaking through Adrian.”

  “Yet Adrian admits he has no recollection of the takeover, so technically you wouldn’t have been kissing Adrian, would you?”

  Janice felt a streak of anger begin to saw at her stomach muscles. Why was Muriel being so obstinate in her probing?

  “This is not about kissing Adrian and you know it!”

  “Isn’t it?”

  The two simple words sent Janice’s head reeling and the question took seed within her. Of course it was. It was about kissing Adrian. Seeing her unease, Muriel continued digging.

  “You might as well tell us about the image. I’m quite relentless when I set my mind to knowing a thing.”

  Fine, she’d stop beating around the bush.

  “Who do I suspect was the couple in the image? I’m not sure.”

  “Let me rephrase that then. Who does Adrian suspect is the couple?”

  As if wired, Janice’s fingers suddenly curled into fists. Her glance locked once more with Muriel’s.

  “He suspects it’s the two of us.”

  A smile of satisfaction broke out on Muriel’s face. Leaning forward, she patted Janice’s clenched fingers.

  “Well there, it’s finally out. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Janice uncurled her fingers, grimacing at Muriel’s subtle ploy to get the truth from her.

  “Yes, it was,” she admitted. “The idea is utterly preposterous.”

  “Do you think so? For myself, I’m relieved. I would so much rather be manipulated by romantic ghosts than murderous ones, wouldn’t you?”

  Janice gave an unexpected shudder and alongside her Ginger did the same.

  “I don’t see how you can joke about something so serious, Muriel,” Ginger chided.

  “If I don’t, I shall start screaming hysterically. It’s not an appealing option.” She scooted to the front of her chair. “I will admit you and Adrian seem to be the main focus of Lisette at the moment, but we mustn’t forget that we were all brought here to serve a purpose. I act as the bridge for communication with Lisette. Actually, I think our spirit friends are being overly accommodating. When they find us slow to act
, they prod us quite quickly.” Muriel paused and Janice saw her features grow taut. “We must speak with Lisette again. And if she won’t come, we’ll summon the baron.”

  “And if he won’t come?”

  “We’ll summon our third friend.”

  Friend. That fiendish laugh echoed in Janice’s ears. She’d rather not talk with that spirit if they didn’t have to. She’d bet it didn’t know what the word friend meant.

  “We won’t take no for an answer,” Muriel muttered crossly. “We’ve got to end this growing tension. Now, how to convince Jasper of my doing it.”

  She fell silent and Janice knew her mind was sorting and discarding all her options. Options! What options? Quickly, Janice wrenched her mind from the terrifying absurdity that they’d never get out alive. They had to get out of the house. That was the only option.

  Chapter 16

  SATURDAY — 2:20 AM

  The aroma of pipe smoke permeated Adrian’s nose, and he broke off reading, glad of the distraction. Over the last several minutes, the printed words had begun blurring and his back had stiffened with a pressing pain.

  Straightening, he raised his elbows, finding his arm muscles stiff as well. He heard a distinct crack as he flexed his shoulders. And then, arching his back, he brought his spine to an even deeper curve. Again, he heard a crack, this one louder than the first. He was tired. The resounding crack proved it. He was warm again, though, thanks to Lloyd’s quick scrounging in a nearby closet. His newly donned shirt and trousers fit loosely, but their warmth more than made up for their bagginess.

  He closed the book in front of him with a decisive snap. He was journaled out. It was time for his mind to digest what it had learned, just as his stomach was currently digesting that sub sandwich. He stole a peek at his companions and realized they too were digesting — both in mind and body.

  Leaning back, Adrian propped his legs on the coffee table and let his gaze focus on the smoke rings drifting in upward spirals around Lloyd’s head. He supposed he should break the silence, but for the moment, he couldn’t summon the energy.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he detected a movement. Jasper, too, was coming out of his stupor, stretching his arms above his head to restore circulation.

  “I could use sleep in a real bed,” he commented. “Dare we try to sleep for a couple of hours?”

  “You’ve got my vote,” Lloyd seconded, coming to life. He withdrew his pipe, stifling a yawn.

  Adrian roused himself as well.

  “I suppose we should give a shot at interpreting these journals first,” he advised. He swallowed down his own yawn and dropped his feet to the carpeted floor. Idly, he pushed the sheaths of paper back and forth with his fingers. “We’ve each read the journals, so what do we know?”

  Neither man across from him ventured a guess and Adrian realized everyone was waiting for someone else to speculate first. Finally, with a resigned sigh, Lloyd rose from his chair and crossed to the fireplace. There he tapped the pipe stem against the palm of his hand, then deposited the ash into the glowing embers. Pocketing the stem, he sat again, his glance meeting Adrian’s.

  “They set sail from France in the spring,” he began, “expecting to arrive in the Americas in late summer. Captain Enoch Waters was in charge, Lieutenant James Arthur, his first mate … ” Lloyd broke off suddenly, his glance moving past Adrian’s shoulder.

  Hearing movement behind him, Adrian swung about and spied the women. Muriel came first, dropping onto the couch alongside Jasper, who laced his fingers within hers in welcome. Adrian greeted Ginger with a brief shift along the couch and a swift pat of the cushions alongside him. Bringing up the rear, Janice propped herself on the arm of Lloyd’s wingback and Adrian saw her give their host’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

  The women took one look at the closed journals on the coffee table, waiting for an update. When no one took up the tale, Janice piped up curiously.

  “What have you found?”

  “More than we bargained for,” Adrian drawled. “Go ahead, Lloyd.”

  Lloyd leaned forward, flipping the closed journal open once more. He tapped a page.

  “The passenger list consisted of Lisette; her abigail, the Lady LaCoer; and a cousin the captain refers to as Simone Villashay, most likely Lisette’s best friend. The baron’s younger brother, Chase, was also a passenger. His destination was New York City, though why he was going there isn’t stipulated anywhere.”

  Lloyd fell silent and Jasper took up the tale.

  “We know the voyage was good at the start. Captain Waters writes so. However, a month into the voyage the weather turned nasty. The ship spent three additional weeks skirting the storm.” Jasper leaned forward and flipped through the journal, never losing his train of thought. “It’s obvious Waters and young Chase became enemies early in the voyage. At least eighty percent of the captain’s log entries refer to the boy as ‘that deviant bastard,’” Jasper paused in his riffling to give the group a speculative glance. “I suppose if the boy was a mental case, he might be our third spirit with the hideous laugh.”

  Adrian nodded and leaned over the journal, following Jasper’s current train of thought.

  “Waters also makes reference to ‘the rutting rake,’ though we can’t be sure if that’s the first mate Arthur or for young Dumas,” Adrian added. “A trip of that length must’ve been hard on the balls … ” He broke off, realizing the women were present. “Sorry. It’s hard to imagine any of the men aboard remaining celibate for the entire voyage. They had to have craved sex with Lisette.”

  “Or the abigail,” Jasper countered. “The captain describes her as … “ he paused and leaned over an ear-marked page. “‘a well-put together widow, with ample breasts.’” Jasper looked once more at Adrian and then the women. “Our captain seems a trifle deviant himself. Perhaps he lusted after the fair Lisette, too.”

  “Not exactly a lunch bucket type of crowd,” Adrian agreed. He continued the tale this time. “They arrived in late September, minus young Chase. The baron was in Philadelphia when the ship anchored, so Waters deposited the girls in a coach-and-four sent from Witchwood. The captain ends his log entries with a final cryptic entry.” Adrian flipped to the end of the journal and read aloud. “‘Tis well rid of the scurvy lot, I am. God take the whoremonger and his whore. May their souls burn in the everlasting pits of Hades.’” Adrian looked up from the pages. “Anyone care to hazard a guess about that wretched curse?”

  Jasper shook his head, clearly stumped. Muriel offered the only comment.

  “It could’ve been any pairing. The boy, the cousin, the abigail, the first mate … ” She leaned back with a frustrated groan and Adrian knew the feeling. They were going to waste precious hours piecing together what had occurred once the passengers had departed the ship. Lisette’s diary had shed no light on the matter. Once the ship docked, the entries in her diary were relatively scarce.

  Leaning back, Adrian gave a half-smile.

  “More and more, it looks as though the murder was a crime of passion.”

  “Any mention of ages?” Janice asked, curiously.

  Adrian reached out and tossed Lisette’s diary to her. She caught it deftly and her fingers thumbed through it casually as he answered her question.

  “We know Lisette was eighteen. It appears the other women were in their early twenties. We suspect the first mate was also in his twenties. The brother was possibly fourteen or fifteen.”

  “Sixteen,” Janice interjected swiftly. “He was cloddish, suffered with a hare-lip.” At her pronouncement, every head swirled about, impaling her with direct stares. Her eyes lifted in surprise. “I don’t know how I knew that,” she stuttered. She followed the confession with a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Just an intuitive flash, nothing more.” She tossed the diary back to the coffee table obviously, confused by the momentary in
sight. Lloyd must’ve sensed her discomfort too, because he captured her fingers and squeezed them with a small shake. Adrian saw her flash him a brief smile and then she turned her attention to the group once more.

  “If the baron’s brother was only sixteen,” Jasper continued aloud, “why wasn’t he accompanied by a man servant and why was his destination New York instead of Witchwood?”

  “Perhaps he stowed away,” Ginger guessed. “A boy that age might long for a sea adventure, especially if he suffered from low self-esteem.”

  “Very intuitive, Ginger,” Jasper applauded. “But there’s no mention of the word stowaway, just ‘deviant bastard.’”

  “You’re sure the phrase was meant for him?” Muriel asked, swinging about. “Deviant bastard brings to mind a rather older rake. One who’s had some years to build a naughty reputation.” She hesitated. “I suppose boys became notorious rakes early in those days. He might’ve been a hellion.”

  Adrian gave the papers in front of him an impatient shove.

  “Guessing, that’s all we doing. We’re no further along than we were an hour ago. And at the rate we’re going … ” he left the sentence unfinished.

  “Let me solve the problem,” Muriel offered. “Let me channel one of the passengers. We know what questions to ask now, so let’s ask them.”

  Jasper clamped Muriel’s arm, a frown surfacing on his brow.

  “No. Until we learn which of them owns that hideous laugh we heard an hour ago, I don’t want you channeling. If our friend is the baron’s brother, he intends harm. And you will be especially vulnerable as the channeler. I won’t risk your life in such a slip-shod fashion and I won’t let anyone else do it either!” His look to the rest of the group spoke volumes and an uncomfortable silence descended among them.

  “We’ll sleep on it,” Adrian finally stated. He saw Jasper’s dark glare and ignored it.

  “Is it safe to sleep?” Ginger asked, slipping her arm through Adrian’s while trying to suppress a shiver. Adrian sighed loudly.

  “Safe or not, we’re going to. We all look like hell. Sleep is the cure. We’ll sleep in pairs though. Jasper, you and Muriel take the west bedroom.” He dipped his head left then right. “Lloyd, you and Janice, the east bedroom. Ginger and I will make do on the couches here.” The group rose at the command and started toward their designated areas. “Move the beds as close to the doorways as you can,” Adrian called to their backs. “That way, we’ll be within earshot of each other. Remember, if you feel dizzy or strange or sense anything out of the ordinary, shout out!”