"You?" Andrea murmured. "Never."
They waited at the door until Rose had checked the closet and looked under the bed. She looked embarrassed, but she made a thorough search. Finally she said, "All right, everything looks okay. Thanks for staying with me."
"No problem," Brenna said.
"Any time." Andrea yawned. "Now let's all get some sleep."
Rose listened to them talking as they went down the back stairs. She took off her clothes and put on her pajamas. As she crawled under the covers, the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to lie down and lose herself in sleep.
Much to her surprise, she did.
Chapter 17
Kerry smoothed the burgundy duvet on the guest room bed and straightened the pillows again. The questions in her mind had her stomach doing somersaults. How was it that Caldicott had never breathed a word about the paranormal to her, but had contacted Max to look into the issue at Wisdom Court? Had her natural skepticism been evident, preventing that disclosure? Was that why Caldicott hadn't given her the information she needed to finish the biography? She paused for a distracted peek at the towels in the adjoining bathroom and finally went back downstairs.
Max was sitting on the sofa, the glass of wine she'd given him in hand. He finished it as she sat down beside him and flicked a look at her under slanted brows. "I thought you'd climbed out a window."
She rolled her eyes in an oh-brother look. "Just checking the accommodations."
"You could have built a bed in the time you were upstairs." The irritation in his voice was unmistakable. "Have you changed your mind about my staying here?" He set the glass back on the coffee table with undue care. As Kerry started to answer, he pressed his lips together, clearly expecting her to ask him to leave.
It was late and Kerry was tired of the undercurrents in their conversations. She leaned against the sofa back, trying to relax. "There's no problem with your staying. I took so long because I was thinking about what you told us earlier, wondering if I screwed up things with Caldicott because I've always thought the paranormal was a bunch of crap."
He shifted his weight, moving closer to her. "Did she ever try to talk to you about it?"
Kerry shook her head. "That's why I was so surprised to hear she'd gotten in touch with you and your association of English ghost-hunters."
Annoyance narrowed his blue eyes. "The Royal Paranormal Society."
"Whatever. I've never had any patience for that stuff, maybe because of how I grew up." He searched her face, waiting. "On a commune in California. Every half-baked notion ever known was embraced and followed until the next one came along." Her glass was nearly empty. "I'll get more wine." She got up and headed for the kitchen, coming back with the bottle of Shiraz and a bag of potato chips. She filled his glass and her own and set the bag between them. "Provisions."
"So you were the child of flower children?" Max stared at her with curiosity.
"I guess you could call them that. Seems overly poetic to me." Kerry was swept with the combination of impatience and otherness that always accompanied thoughts of her childhood. "We had to work like dogs just to keep food on the table, but I found time to read and follow my nose as far as education was concerned. I keep in touch with a few of my 'siblings.'"
"And your parents?" Max asked carefully.
Kerry took a drink of wine and tried to keep her cynicism leashed. "Patriarchal traditions were ridiculed, so the kids supposedly belonged to everybody, which meant we didn't belong to anybody. Most of the 'grownups' were heavily into pot, so we pretty much raised ourselves."
"But surely the authorities—"
"—were understaffed and easily bamboozled." Kerry viewed his horror with amusement. "Some of the older kids were actually very good parents. They made sure we younger ones made it to school and kept our noses clean. Then, as we got older, they left to start their own lives and we took over. Most of us did okay. A few ended up serious pot-heads, but they had a good set-up for that and, as far as I know, are happy hanging out at the old digs." She polished off her wine and reached for more. "Needless to say, I don't go home for Christmas."
She hated the expression on his face, the combined outrage and pity she'd seen every time she'd been truthful about her upbringing. "I worked my way through the undergrad years of college," she added hurriedly, "got a fellowship for my masters, and I'm still working on my Ph.D. Caldicott heard me present a paper on similarities in familial units and decided I should write her biography."
"And then she didn't give you what you needed to write it."
Because of the sympathy in his eyes, Kerry just nodded.
"How much more time do you have here?" he asked.
"A little over three months." Kerry fought the panic that rose in her every time she acknowledged how little time was left. "That's nudged me to at least listen to the idea of paranormal influences here. And what happened with Andrea, of course."
Max eyed her in speculation. "You hadn't noticed any odd things happening here? No strange sounds or cold spots?"
"No, not until Andrea showed up." Kerry ate a couple of chips and washed them down with wine. "Even then I didn't experience much of anything. Until we figured out who was behind what she was going through, the trances and her sketches and painting. I saw enough then to convince me that something weird was going on. And there's no way I can deny what happened tonight. Rose told you about the food being moved around, and Aura Lee's organ was played by something no one could see. It counts as paranormal to me."
Max reached for his glass, moving even closer. "The things Ms. Wyntham described to me weren't as dramatic, but she'd accumulated an impressive list of odd events by the time she contacted me. She heard strange sounds on various occasions, particularly a deep growling. The dates she listed were the same as those of pagan ritual days."
Kerry hunched her shoulders against the chill down her spine. "That's creepy."
Max nodded. "Her sleep patterns were affected as well. Tomorrow I'll show you some of the dreams she described." His jaw had tensed and Kerry had the feeling she wouldn't enjoy reading those descriptions.
"Have you encountered things like this before, Max?" The gut-punch of having the lights go out at dinner, of seeing their dinner arranged in patterns was back, fresh in her mind. She rubbed her hands on her slacks and tried to ignore the tremble in them.
"I've seen oddities, and I've felt presences, but it's the number of signs and manifestations that intrigues me about Wisdom Court." His voice was edgy, and when he took a short breath and let it out, Kerry realized how excited he was.
"I wish I could see it as you do." Part of her was angry at his ability to remain objective, but what she envied was his lack of fear. "We're all so anxious now, waiting for the next surprise." She half-laughed and bent forward for her glass. "It's hell on the nerves."
"I understand."
Kerry turned to meet his eyes. "Why did it take you so long to get here? I mean, Caldicott was expecting you months ago, wasn't she?"
"I was in a car accident." Max looked down at his leg. "You've seen me limp. I was in hospital for a month after it happened, and out of my head during most of that. By the time I got back to normal, Ms. Wyntham was dead." His voice deepened with feeling. "I can't tell you how much I regret that."
Kerry swallowed at the lump in her throat. "She never said a word about any of it to me." She looked blindly at the coffee table. "Why wouldn't she trust me? Why did she close me out of all of it?"
Max slid the rest of the way across the cushion and put his arm around her. "We'll get to the heart of it, luv." She dropped her head to his shoulder and he pulled her firmly against him. "She didn't tell me everything, that I do know, and she made it clear that what she said was confidential."
Kerry savored the strength of his arm around her shoulders. And he was warm. She felt as though she'd been cold forever. "What about the woman she wanted you to trace?"
"Clara Trinder." Max's voice rumb
led under her ear. "In her view, Clara Trinder was linked to Wisdom Court, though she didn't say how. She said something had been set into motion here." His arm tightened. "Looking back, I believe she knew a good deal more than she shared with me."
Kerry sniffed and took the handkerchief he gave her and wiped her eyes. "But why—how did she come to contact you?"
Max smiled down at her. "My dear girl, I'm one of the top men in the paranormal world. Of course she came to me."
"Humble, aren't you?" Kerry felt comfortable with him, and wondered why they'd been so snarky to each other. When she glanced up at him and saw his frown, some of her ease faded and she pulled back. Max firmly returned her against his side and bent to kiss her.
His lips were warm and moved enticingly against hers. She put her arms around him and he deepened the kiss. His tongue stole into her mouth and at the taste of him she felt a surge of desire. "Max," she murmured against his mouth as he ran one hand down her back and up again.
She stroked his hair, fingers taking pleasure in the smooth strands, and when she moved against him he tightened his hold on her.
Max lifted his head and Kerry was entranced by the thickness of his lashes, by the intense expression in his eyes. "I thought you couldn't stand me."
He ran his hand down her back again, setting off ripples of pleasure along her spine. "You've got a mouth on you. I wanted to kiss it to shut you up."
"Just try it," she said in a prim voice. "See what it gets you." As his arms tightened around her, she lifted her head and leaned in. His lips caught hers, rubbed against her, side to side and desire shivered through her.
"Let's go upstairs." Had she said it or had he? She didn't know, didn't care.
He stood up and held out one hand. When she put hers in it, he pulled her to her feet. His blue eyes focused on her and she couldn't help but smile.
"Something amusing?" he asked.
"You." Her smile grew and she felt a swell of emotion. "You are a lovely man."
His fingers tightened on hers. "If you're delusional enough to believe that, luv, I need to get you into bed before the spell wears off." He tugged her toward the stairs and she followed.
They were near the top step when Max stopped. His breath sucked in sharply and his hand tightened on hers.
"What is it?" She heard the quaver in her voice and felt a spurt of anger.
"Don't you feel the cold?" Max turned his head and looked down at her.
His expression scared her. She shook her head. Suddenly he pulled her up the last two steps through frigid air that made her stumble.
"Come on. Move." He dragged her the short distance to her room and pulled her through, slamming the door behind them. His arms came around her and he held her so tightly she couldn't take a full breath.
"What was that?" she whispered.
"I don't know," he breathed.
* * *
Brenna was near the front door when she heard a noise behind her. She spun around, nearly colliding with Andrea, who took a quick step back, both hands lifted defensively. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
Brenna sagged in relief. "You never know what's behind you around here."
"No kidding." Andrea pointed at the stack of envelopes and magazines on the table by the stairs. "I was just checking for mail."
Brenna's glance ricocheted off the pile. "Any chance you'd walk me to my place? I'm kind of freaking out. The quiet around here is getting to me."
"Spooked, huh?" Andrea's voice was sympathetic.
"Yeah." Brenna pulled up her jacket zipper and turned toward the door.
"Sure, I'll walk you." Andrea jerked her coat from the row of hooks and followed her. "Guess I'm too tired to be freaking."
"Lucky you."
Stars studded the sky and the crescent moon hung like a crooked smile over the Flatirons. Brenna shivered in the chill. "I've been all over L.A. at night, but I don't like being alone in the dark after what happened tonight. I thought Rose was going to lose it in there. Maybe have a heart attack."
"I don't blame her." Andrea shoved her hands in her pockets. "I did not want to go up those stairs."
A few dry leaves, stirred by a breeze, whispered across the cobblestone courtyard and Brenna twitched a quick look behind her. "You looked plenty brave when you led the way up."
"Yeah, right." Andrea's lips twisted and the self-disgust in her eyes was heavy enough to thud on the cobblestones. "Like I'm going to tell Rose I don't want to check out the second floor when she looks like Death munching on a cracker." She stopped at the stairs to the associate house. "We're here on the street where you live."
Brenna hunched her shoulders. "Okay, so now I go inside."
"Want me to go in with you?"
"No." Brenna let out a breath. "I'll be fine."
"I didn't think till now, but you're welcome to stay at my place tonight. We could finish off the brownies and wait for ghosts to show up."
"Tempting." Brenna tried to smile. "I'm here. Path of least resistance and all that." She started up the steps and stopped. It was easier to look at Andrea than up the stairs to the door. "Thanks, though. Rain check for the ghosts?"
"No worries. I think we'll all be sharing more of those." Andrea waited for Brenna to unlock the outside door. "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see you." Brenna slid inside, pushing the front door shut behind her. She was halfway to her apartment when the overhead lights flickered and died.
"Shit." Her whisper hissed and then rustled through the hall, echoing from every direction.
So this is pitch black. Brenna turned her head back and forth, unable to find even a sliver of light. The main door was behind her. Her door ought to be on the left. She took a step and was hit with a feeling of total isolation. No light, no warmth, no anchor. She took another step and reached with both hands, keys dangling from the right, jingling together as she moved. The tinny vibrations stretched like a beast freed from a cage, building into an ear-splitting clanging. She waved her arms, frantic to find the wall, but felt nothing. It's a hallway! I can cross it in a few steps.
Deciding she was pointed in the right direction, she walked straight ahead: one, two, three steps, and collided with a wall. The keys slipped from her hand and jangled as they landed. On the tile by the carpet runner. Brenna bent down through the harsh ringing pounding against her ears.
"What the hell." The words bounced shouting back at her, echoing, speeding up. She slapped along the edge of the runner and finally brushed against the keys and grabbed them.
Brenna threw out one hand, barely noticing the pain when it struck plaster. She shoved the keys into her pocket and started hitting the wall with both hands. She scooted along the baseboard, the dull thuds of her search resounding from all directions, building in volume.
Like an echo chamber, have to get out of here. Ears ringing, heart beating double time, Brenna kept moving, hands feeling desperately for the door.
When she encountered vertical molding, she groped upward, finally banging her knuckles against the doorknob. She pulled herself up and reached into her pocket for the keys. Finding the lock, she felt for the keyhole and tried to slide in the key. Has to be my door. Her hands were shaking and the small, scratchy noises of metal against metal were amplified, beating against her ears.
"Stop it, stop it," she muttered. The tip of the key slid into the slot, but when she tried to turn it, nothing happened.
Other key. She fumbled to get a firm hold on the second key. After struggling to match the pieces of metal, the key slipped into the lock and turned.
Brenna shouldered her way in, almost falling into the room. She spun to shove the door shut behind her, turning the bolt immediately as she flailed for the light switch. The lamp on the foyer table flared like a searchlight and she shut her eyes against it.
After a moment Brenna opened them and turned to look around, going far enough inside to peer into the living room. Everything appeared to be undisturbed. She took a faltering st
ep back toward the door, then another. Placing her ear against the wood, she listened. Nothing. A glance through the peephole showed the lighted hallway.
Brenna rested her forehead against the oak door. Her first thought was to call Rose and everyone else for reinforcement. What could they do? Stiffening her resolve, she listened again, ear pushed against the wood. With reluctance she turned the bolt and opened the door a crack, straining to hear any sound. After a moment she widened the gap to stick her head out.
The hall, scented as always with lemons and beeswax, was silent.
Brenna closed the door carefully and locked it before she sank to the floor. Relief swept through her as she huddled, arms around her knees. What was it, what could have caused those sounds? What kind of lunacy is going on here?
She dug in her coat pocket for a tissue, fingers brushing against her cell phone. She speed-dialed Dink before she could think about it. When she heard his voice she lost what little control she had left. "Dink—oh, God, Dink." Choppy sobs overtook her.
"Bren? What the hell—" Dink's voice was harsh. "Are you okay? What's going on?" When she didn't answer, just continued crying, he said with force, "Brenna! Tell me what's happening. Are you all right?"
She took a deep breath, then another. "Sorry," she gulped. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Tell me what it is."
"Okay." She pushed herself up off the floor. "Let me get a Kleenex." She wobbled into the living room, the last of the sobs dying out, and found the tissue box. When she'd blown her nose, taken a deep breath, she said, "Okay, I'm sorry I lost it."
Dink swore in her ear. "For chrissake, Bren—"
"Oh, Dink, I'm so scared. Wisdom Court is haunted—"
"What?" Brenna pulled the phone away from her ear, and replaced it when he quieted.
"It's haunted here. I'm not kidding. I was just trapped in the entrance hall with something—I don't know what—and the lights went out, and the sound—God, the sound, Dink, like a giant reverb chamber, and I couldn't see. I'm so damned scared I don't know what to do." She was crying and couldn't stop.
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