A Darker Shade

by Laura K. Curtis

  “I’m not leaving with Matt and Jennifer and Hailey. You need me here.”

  He ignored me for a minute, rummaging in the cupboard for a tin of cocoa, then prying off the lid and scooping several spoonfuls into the pan with the milk.

  “She’s focused on you,” he said at last, though he still did not turn around to face me. “You can’t stay here. She’s made it clear that she has no compunction about killing you. Your attack was far more brutal than Jenn’s.”

  “I have a theory about that.”

  “Why does this not surprise me?” He stirred the pot, then faced me. “Let’s have it.”

  “I pose a bigger threat to her. Jennifer has no chance of figuring out who she is and sending her away. I do.”

  “You’re convinced that her identity is the key to her banishment?”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  The question I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask. “A number of reasons. Part of it comes from the book I bought for Liza, part from what my family always said about carnival queens, part from what Adriana Livingston said about earthly regrets.

  “An unquiet spirit forms because of a regret. And eventually, that regret becomes all-consuming. It’s their ambition, their sole reason for staying on this plane rather than moving on. If we find out who she was, we can find out what she regrets, what her ambition is. That’s what’s tethering her to Liza. All we have to do is sever the connection.”

  “That’s a great deal of supposition.”

  “I know, but it feels right. And what other option do we have?”

  “Then Liza and I will figure it out. We don’t need you. And you can’t help anyone if she kills you, which she seems determined to do.”

  And, oh, that hurt. It ripped right through the warm, rich scent of chocolate clouding the kitchen, a cold blade twisting in my breast. Of course he saw no place for me with his daughter. Placing the blame on me provided a buffer from his own guilt, which must be at least as overwhelming as his daughter’s. Despite seeing the defensiveness beneath his words, I had to take two shallow breaths before I could speak.

  “I can’t.” I was too deeply attached to both Nathaniel and his daughter, but I could not very well admit such a thing. He’d just gotten past the unwelcome revelation of his sister-in-law’s feelings. “I understand that you’d prefer to be able to save Liza on your own, but isn’t it better, in the long run, to have an extra pair of hands?”

  “Why are you so determined to stay?” he persisted.

  Because I love you. Love you both. Because you’re my family as much as Ali. But one did not say such things to one’s employer, especially when he’d endured his sister-in-law’s wiles and a previous tutor’s accusations of seduction.

  “Because your daughter’s a great kid. She deserves a great life. If there’s any possibility that I can help give her one, I can’t abandon her.”

  “And can you help? Did you find anything in my father’s book that might give us a clue?”

  Out of one battle, straight into another. “Not enough. I need to talk to him. I can’t help feeling that he knew more than he wrote down. I noticed a decided lack of information about spiritualism, despite how strongly rooted it was in this part of the country, in the final text. And yet, he has so many books about it.”

  “What, you think he was performing séances in his office? I assure you, he was not.”

  “I didn’t say that. I assume when researching any book an author gathers more information than he uses. Your father likely found out far more about this property than he wrote down. But they’re exactly what we need.”

  “Okay, but how do you expect me to ask him? Call him up—assuming the phone’s still working in a few hours when he gets up—and say ‘look, Dad, this house is haunted and I need to know whether you have any idea whether my ancestors murdered anyone here?’”

  “I can do it.”

  “He has no idea who you are.”

  “And isn’t it better for him to think you’ve hired a lunatic than to think you are one? I promise, I’ll find a way to make it sound normal.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I must be mad even to consider it.”

  “We’re all a little mad at the moment. Consequence of living with an unquiet spirit, I expect.”

  The milk spat and he cursed before tending to it. He did not speak to me again before gesturing for me to follow him back to the living room.

  As we entered the library, I studied the group around the fire. None of them spoke and Jennifer rocked slightly as she stared down into her drink. She is drawing our energy away. Not just those she deliberately targets, but all of us. One by one, we’ll simply disappear, and no one will remember we ever existed.

  I shook away the thought and picked up Jim Prescott’s textbook, which I’d left on the coffee table when Liza and I turned in for the night.

  “You think she’s in there,” Jennifer said. “That’s why you wanted it.”

  “I hoped she might be, but I didn’t find her.”

  Matt frowned. “You can’t still be looking. For God’s sake, hasn’t she done enough damage to you? Give over and come with us when the sun rises. I’ll go up right now and watch over you while you pack.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Why?” Matt raked a hand through his hair. “Do you have a martyr complex? You have to die for… for what, exactly? So that no one can say you quit a job? I’m well aware of the financial restrictions Thane put on your job. My sister and I discussed them. But I’m sure he won’t hold you to them.”

  “I’ve already told her that,” said Nathaniel.

  “Then what? What’s the problem? Thane and Liza are tied to this place, but you’re not. You have a life. A family. You told me about them. Your sister, the one who’s pre-med. It doesn’t bother you that you could die here, and leave her all alone?”

  That wound had been bleeding since my conversation with Liza. I was as susceptible to guilt as the next person. Maybe more so. But I had to take the advice I’d given her. And if I could not admit my feelings to Nathaniel, I certainly could not speak in front of Matt and Jennifer. I could not tell them that Ali would want me to stay for the simple reason that I wanted to. She’d be so excited that I’d found a place, a new family to love—even if they didn’t love me back—that she’d never expect me to leave on her behalf.

  “I am all too aware of what might happen. But Ali…” My mouth dried and I could not speak. I sipped at the cocoa, but what I needed was the cleansing bite of ice water. I searched for an answer close enough to the truth to be convincing. “Ali would never want me to abandon anyone to an angry spirit. She’s going to be a doctor. Her whole life is about helping people. And when it comes right down to it, that’s what my life is about, too. We’ve always understood that about each other.”

  “She’s not going to be a doctor if you die here and she has to get a job instead of finishing college,” Matt said, the knife followed by the sting of acid.

  I swallowed the tears clogging my throat and hardened myself. This was the man who’d flirted so charmingly with me. For the first time, I could imagine him in a courtroom. “I survived my mother’s death. Ali is the same age now I was when she was diagnosed with cancer. If I die, she’ll finish college. She might have to work for a year or two between college and graduate school, but she’ll go. She’s smarter and stronger than I ever was.”

  “And you? What did you want to do before that?”

  “We don’t always get what we want.”

  “And you’re content have your sister answer the same way? In five years, when she’s working for the same woman who sent you here because medical school is expensive and she needs to make a living?” He threw up his hands.

  Nathaniel coughed. I’d forgotten, in those few heated moments, that Matt and I were not alone.

  “It may be the only time anyone ever hears me say this,” he said, “but Matt’s right. People depend on you.”

&nbs
p; Other people. Not him. Not Liza. My face hurt and I walked over to the window and peered out into the night rather than answering. My first impression of Rook’s Rest had been of a place out of time. How much or little had it changed since the night—and I had no doubt it had been at night, though no evidence supported the idea—a woman had lost her life here?

  “I need to write to Ali,” I managed at last. “To all of them.” I faced Matt, ignoring Nathaniel. “You’ll take the letters with you?”

  “No. Your sister deserves better than a letter.”

  “We’ll take them,” said Jennifer. “There’s stationery in the office. Shall I come with you?”

  My heart squeezed at the idea of saying goodbye to my family in front of Jennifer.

  “I’ll go,” said Liza. “The ghost doesn’t want to hurt me, so Molly will be safe if I’m with her.”

  Nathaniel started to protest, then subsided. Had he accepted my determination to stay, or was he waiting until the last minute for a final protest? I wouldn’t put it past him to knock me out and stuff me in the car with Matt.

  The shadows in the hall shifted and stretched with the movement of the trees in the wind outside, reaching for us until we flipped the light switch in the ballroom. I sat at Nathaniel’s desk, selected a pen from the chipped mug, and pulled the legal pad sitting in the center of the blotter closer to me. What could I say? Matt was right; Ali did deserve more. But I could not imagine calling her and trying to explain that I might not live to see her graduate, not while listening to her voice.

  “Why won’t you go with them? Really? Aren’t you scared to stay?”

  Liza was little more than a dark blot, wavering with the tears in my eyes.

  “Because my sister doesn’t need me. No matter what your uncle says. She loves me, and if I don’t survive she’ll miss me, but this, right here, is life or death.”

  “So you’d stay no matter what?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “With any family who needed you?”

  My scant training had given me no tools for this situation. What was the best answer? The truth? I had no idea what it was. Or maybe I was lying to myself. Self-deception had become deeply ingrained in the years since Mama’s death. No, I don’t mind giving up my studies. No, I don’t mind changing adult diapers. No, I don’t miss going out on dates. No, I don’t miss staying up late studying with a group of similarly-focused friends. No, I don’t need a peer group, my family is enough.

  That last wasn’t entirely a lie. My family had been enough. For a long time. Until I’d come to Maine.

  “You’re special,” I told Liza. And that was true, if only part of what kept me at Rook’s Rest.

  “Because I talk to ghosts?”

  “Because you’re you.”

  “And because Dad’s Dad?”

  A blush crawled up my neck. Leave it to a kid. She’d sussed out her aunt’s interest easily enough. I hadn’t realized my own had been so plain.

  “Let’s leave your father out of it, okay?”

  She shrugged. “What are you going to tell your sister?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  The words came more easily than I’d imagined once I started, however. As I’d told Matt, Ali would never condone deserting a family in need, so I started there. By the time I’d finished, my scrawl covered three pages of the legal pad and the collar of my sweatshirt was soaked with tears. Nathaniel had checked on us twice. The third time, I had folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope.

  “Liza, go back to the library. I need to talk to Molly for a minute.”

  I braced myself for the next assault. The windows in the ballroom were hung with heavy drapes, but through the open door I could see that the hall had lightened. Dawn was coming, and with it Matt’s departure.

  But instead of arguing, Nathaniel plucked the envelope from my hand and tucked it into his back pocket. He leaned a hip against the desk and sighed.

  “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks.” I glared at him through swollen, gritty eyes.

  “Go home, Molly. Be with your family.”

  “And waste all the work on that letter?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me. You need me to help Liza. Why are you trying so hard to push me away?”

  “Because I can’t have your death on my conscience. Upstairs... what I saw... I can’t handle that again.”

  “Check the door. I want to be sure Liza’s not listening.”

  He frowned, but did as I asked, shaking his head to show the coast was clear when he returned.

  “You don’t need to worry about your conscience. If I don’t survive this, chances are you won’t either. But if it makes you feel any better, I intend to finish this fight on top.” I’d come to an understanding as I’d written to Ali, a recognition of aspects of myself I’d avoided thinking about for years. I stood up so I could look him in the eye.

  “My mother told me I could achieve anything. For a while, I forgot that. Forgot that I’m an Allworth, and Allworths are unbeatable. Cancer took my mother, but it didn’t beat her. There’s a difference. This thing, whatever it is, whoever she was, I’ve had enough. The whole reason she’s succeeded as far as she has is that we’ve been playing defense. I’m done with that. It’s time to take up arms and become the aggressors. I’m not going to hide and wait for her to attack any more. If I let her chase me out of here, I won’t be able to look at myself in a mirror for the rest of my life. If being the person my mother raised me to be gets me in trouble, that’s on me. It’s not on you. I absolve you of any responsibility. You did your best to force me out. Now let it go.”

  Bravado, pure and simple, but it was what I had left. And maybe he saw the fear lurking beneath the words, but he gave in and straightened to his full height. “Then I suppose we should get started.”

  Chapter 21

  An hour later, we stood on the front steps and watched the others drive away, taking Rocky with them. She’d split us in half. Three gone, three remaining. But I couldn’t help feeling lighter, as if removing Jennifer, Matt, and Hailey made us stronger, not weaker. And when Liza’s hand crept into mine, I squeezed it tightly, a silent promise of solidarity.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Now we find her.”

  “How?”

  “We have to go to the billiards room.” My stomach lurched. The third floor terrified me. Every inch of it. But the sun was rising, a brighter gray over the dreary landscape, and we had no time to waste. “In another hour or so, we can call your grandfather and I can see if he discovered anything in his research, but until then we’re starting from scratch.”

  Nathaniel led the way. Perhaps it was just as well that he’d never felt the malignant spirit the way Liza and I had. Yes, he’d seen me unconscious in her grip, and the picture Matt had drawn of that was horrifying, but without my memories of the desperate attempt to reach Liza in the nursery and the creature I’d seen standing over her bed, he strode ahead into a battle with confidence I could not muster.

  On the third floor landing, he faltered. He reached out to flick on the light, but nothing happened when he hit the switch.

  “Huh. The lights are on in the rest of the house.”

  Yes. And they’d been on here when I was teaching, when I discovered the spiritualism books, when she pushed Jennifer down the stairs.

  “She doesn’t want us up here,” said Liza in a strange, high-pitched voice. The truth of the situation had caught up with her and fear had finally set in. “She’s angry.”

  Nathaniel straightened his shoulders and strode down the hall. “We’ll open the curtains. That’ll give us plenty of light.”

  The statement seemed ridiculously bold once we’d entered the billiards room, however. Dust motes floated through the weak sunlight and the atmosphere had thickened overnight.

  “Where are these books you’re so set on examining?”

  I pointed to
the top shelf.

  “Leave it to my father to put them all the way up there. Okay. I’ll climb up and hand them down to you. Are there any that you particularly want, or all of them?”

  “The ones with the information on the paranormal and the ones about the Native Americans.”

  “Why those? Surely you don’t think this haunting goes all the way back to when this was tribal land.”

  “I don’t know how far back it goes and neither do you. But your father raised you on the tale of Alawa and he has a book up there about Canadian boarding schools for Native kids. I refuse to believe that’s a coincidence. He studied the displaced children. And yet, there’s only the slightest mention of it in the book about Maine.”

  “Because Maine didn’t have boarding schools. We have a horrible, shameful history of sending Native kids to foster homes and even having them adopted out of their communities permanently. But those didn’t really ratchet up until the 1960s, and it didn’t impact this house. My mother was already summering here by then, so we’d know about anything untoward that happened.”

  A draft slipped by and I felt fingers on my neck. It took all my willpower not to raise my hands to swat her away. It would do no good. But we needed to get off the third floor.

  “Please. Just bring them. We can carry them all downstairs to sort through.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He leaped up on the counter, far more gracefully than I had done, and began pulling the bound manuscripts down. Every so often he would stop, read a title aloud, and grimace.

  “These can’t have been Dad’s. Seriously. Maybe they were already here when he started using this room as his office.”

  “Then we can all thank whoever had it before your father.”

  “Grandpa Bill.” He nodded. “Yeah, that makes a lot more sense. Crazy old man.”

  “Matt said he was living in Morocco now?”

  “Yeah. I hope you don’t expect to call him for help. He’s unreachable.”