Shivers Box Set: Darkening Around Me\Legacy of Darkness\The Devil's Eye\Black Rose (35 page)

“What is it with you? Every time I start to think you’re a decent guy you turn around and act like an ass.” She turned and marched away down the path. Reece had to jog to keep up.

“I’m not a decent guy, but you need to take me seriously. You’re in danger if you stay.”

“I don’t want to hear any more.”

“I know you don’t, but your sister’s dangerous.”

“Did the ghosts tell you that?” Derision dripped off her tongue. She didn’t so much as glance back, her pace never slowing. “Why not ask them what happened to Matthew Langley? Or the other men who disappeared?”

“I would if I could. There’s nothing at Stonecliff.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re full of crap.” Brynn whirled on him, bringing him to an abrupt halt. Anger burned in her dark eyes, pink flush crept into her cheeks. “There is something in that house. I’ve seen it.”

He frowned. What did she think she’d seen? “Brynn, I would
know
if there was anything.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away, hurrying down the path, and he followed. He couldn’t have possibly screwed this up more if he’d tried. He had to convince her though. His inability to follow her through the gate to The Devil’s Eye hammered home just how right Harding’s ghost had been. Eleri could have easily killed Brynn, and he’d been powerless to stop her.

The trees fell away and Reece trailed after her to the courtyard.

“Brynn, listen to me.”

“No, thanks.” She shook her head and picked up her pace, nearly jogging up to the back door.

He reached for her hand to stop her, but she yanked it away. She turned her head and pinned him with hot, furious eyes. “Stay away from me.”

She pulled open the door, stormed inside and slammed it behind her so hard the windows rattled.

Brynn hesitated outside her sister’s bedroom, fist poised ready to knock, but Reece’s words played in her head.

If you stay, you won’t survive
.

A chill danced along her spine. She gave herself a mental shake. The man claimed to have received that message from a
ghost
. Clearly, he was deranged, or full of crap. Maybe both.

She rapped on the smooth wood. After a long moment, hinges creaked and the door opened a few inches. Eleri’s pale face peered out from the narrow gap.

“What is it?” Her voice was gravelly.

“That was a lousy thing you just did to me. I want an explanation. Now.”

Eleri nodded and pushed the door open wider. Brynn entered her sister’s room—similar to her own, but larger. Cream-colored walls inlaid with pale green wallpaper, a large canopy bed and every light in the room glowing softly.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess,” Eleri said, and gestured to one of the two couches before a low fire burning in the hearth.

Brynn sank onto the cushion. “Why did you? The truth this time.”

“I’m in a lot of trouble.” Eleri sat on the opposite couch. “I contacted you because you survived.”

Brynn frowned. “Drowning?”

Eleri nodded and turned to glowing coals crumbling in the fireplace. “And me.”

Cold washed through Brynn.
If you stay, you won’t survive
. Was Reece right? Was her sister on the verge of confessing?

“After your visit to The Iron Kettle last night, I’m sure you’ve heard all about me, and the men I supposedly killed.” Eleri met Brynn’s gaze, her eyes dark with pain. “It wasn’t me, none of it. I wasn’t even here when Matthew Langley disappeared. I’d been living in Manchester for two years, and they’re still trying to tie me to his murder.”

A twinge pulled at Brynn’s chest. If Eleri was lying, she deserved an Academy Award for the performance. The desperate, haunted expression leaving her small features drawn and tired looked real to her. “Shouldn’t his murder clear you?”

Eleri let out a humorless chuckle. “You would think so. When Harding turned up at my flat and told me what had happened, for a moment I was thrilled. I know that makes me sound terrible, but all I could think was finally they would see it wasn’t me. I should have known better. Stephen Paskin claims he saw me the night Langley disappeared. I was home in bed when it happened, but he blames me for his son, Griffin’s—” Her voice caught, but she cleared her throat and continued “For Griffin disappearing. I suppose he figures me getting blamed for one is as good as another, so long as I wind up in prison.”

Slow dawning settled over Brynn. She leaned forward, holding her sister’s gaze. “You were involved with his son.”

Eleri nodded. “I would never have hurt him.”

“What do you think happened to him?”

“He left, went to France to be an artist. He hated his father, and swore he’d never speak to him again. Stephen Paskin is an awful man.”

The man had appeared friendly enough to her, and certainly more pleasant than anyone at Stonecliff. Was her sister lying? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“How do I fit in?”

Eleri sighed. “The day Harding came to my flat to question me about Langley, he gave me some advice. He told me my best bet for clearing my name was to find one of the men who disappeared alive, and I tried, but I didn’t really know where to start. It was so much easier to track you down. Your grandparents hadn’t moved in twenty-five years.”

No, they’d lived and died in the same house. The same house Brynn had been living in since she and Zack split up.

“Most people believe I tried to drown you when we were small and that’s why Meris sent you to her parents. But it wasn’t me. Someone was with you that day. I wanted you to tell me who, but you were too young to remember Stonecliff.”

“So you invited me, hoping that once I saw the estate I would remember, and when that didn’t work you took me to The Devil’s Eye.” A mix of anger and pity ran through Brynn. Her sister had been playing games from the start, but she couldn’t imagine the desperation driving her.

“I just thought if you could tell people it wasn’t me, tell them who really tried to hurt you, then maybe they’d focus on someone else. I’m sorry. I should have told you from the beginning.”

“It’s been twenty-three years. There’s no guarantee that whoever tried to drown me is the same person who killed Matthew Langley.”

“I realize that, but if I could prove I was innocent of one crime, maybe people might consider I was innocent of the others.”

“You should have told me the truth,” Brynn said, slowly. Did she believe Eleri? Could she?

Eleri snorted and looked up, her dark eyes bleak. “Would you have come? Would you have stayed even this long?”

“I don’t know,” she told her, truthfully. “But had you told me the truth from the start, I could have saved us both a lot of aggravation. I know you weren’t the one who tried to drown me.”

Eleri’s expression morphed from sad resignation to wide-eyed shock. “You did remember something.”

Brynn shook her head. “The only thing that seeing the bog in person did was confirm exactly where it happened.”

“Then how can you know it wasn’t me?”

“I remember being in the water.” Anxiety built in her chest, memories flitting through her mind. “I remember hands pushing me under.”

Eleri leaned forward, eyes big and bright. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know who, but I remember the sensation, the size and weight of those hands.” She drew a deep breath, struggling to slow her pulse racing in her ears. “Those hands belonged to an adult. It wasn’t you, Eleri.”

Her sister let out a brittle chuckle and she shook her head, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, disrupted your entire life. I’ve dragged you into this mess and all of it for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. I just told you, I
know
it wasn’t you. I can tell Harding, Paskin or anyone else.”

Eleri reached up and gripped the back of her neck with both hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re saying, what you’re willing to say, but if you don’t know who
did
try to drown you, Harding won’t believe a word. Hell, even if you could tell him, he still might not believe you.”

She thought of the articles she’d read, the crazy accusations, the terrible things Thomas Grady said about her. Had Brynn stayed, would she have wound up with the same rumors connected to her name? Would people have called her The Witch of Stonecliff?

“Will you leave now?” Eleri asked, dragging Brynn from her dark thoughts.

She didn’t have an answer. Her head spun like an amusement park ride with more questions about the people she’d come from than when she’d arrived. She tried to reconcile the woman who had written to her on her birthday every year to the woman Eleri said locked her in a cellar.

“Were you telling the truth about Meris?” Brynn asked.

Eleri nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Why did she even bother asking? It wasn’t like Eleri hadn’t lied to her before. So who would tell her honestly about her mother? Certainly not her father. Mrs. Voyle had yet to speak a kind word to her; she doubted she’d be willing to answer any of Brynn’s questions. Maybe Hugh Warlow, but the man likely wouldn’t tell her anything without her father’s approval. So whom did that leave?

Dylis Paskin, maybe? She claimed to have been friends with Meris. Though, the woman had a clear and understandable bias against Eleri—understandable if her sister had in fact killed their son.

How much of Eleri’s story did she believe?

“I’ll stay one more day,” she said. After all, she’d chased after Eleri through the woods instead of changing her flight like she’d planned. Tomorrow she’d speak with Dylis and at least she would put the doubt Eleri had created to rest.

* * *

Brynn jerked awake, but didn’t know why. A dream, maybe. A noise? She strained her ears, but only silence greeted her and a growing sense of unease.

She burrowed deeper under the blankets to ward off the frigid chill in the room. The fire had burned down to a thin orange glow—the only light in the otherwise inky black.

Why was the room dark? She’d gone to sleep with the lights on. Brynn stiffened in her bed, sleepiness vanishing.

The smell teased her nose faintly at first, then thickened, filling her nasal passages and her mouth until she was nearly choking on that putrid stink. Wet, snuffling breaths rose from out of the black.

Blinding fear pierced her chest, stealing her breath and turning her insides soft. She jerked upright, scanned the darkness. A man’s shadow stood at the end of her bed, opaque black even against the dark, and two red eyes trained on her.

She scrambled onto her knees and grabbed for the lamp. Her fingers twisted the switch with a click, but nothing happened. The room remained dark.

What the hell?

Panic burst inside Brynn. Her hand shook as she turned the switch again. She tried again. Still nothing.

Gurgling breaths drew closer. She jerked her head around as the thing climbed onto the end of the mattress. Her breath lodged in her throat, insides icing over. If it touched her, she’d lose her mind.

Scrambling off the bed, Brynn’s foot tangled in the covers, sending her sprawling across the floor. Her palms slapped against the rough wood. Her knee hit with a hard whack, sharp pain shooting up her thigh. She let out a muffled sob, but didn’t stop. She hobbled as fast as she could across the room and hit the switch for the chandelier, but the light didn’t come on.

“Shit,” she whispered. White fear streaked though her like lightning. She glanced over her shoulder. That thing moved closer, sliding over the floor like a living oil slick, red stare boring into her. She yanked open her bedroom door and rushed into the hall.

Darkness wrapped around her, but she didn’t stop to look for a light. She half ran, half limped toward the stairs, pressing one hand to the wall to guide her.

Children’s laughter chimed from the black. Footsteps ran past her, cool air sweeping against her skin and stippling her flesh with goose bumps. Mind-numbing fear closed in around her, eclipsing every coherent thought except to get the hell out of there.

At last her fingers brushed the smooth, wood newel post of the stairs. Moonlight filtered through the windows in the front door, leaving the foyer gray and shadowy. She started down the steps, but a cold weight slammed into her back. Her foot slipped on the on the tread, her world tilted and she tumbled into the darkness.

The wood stairs rose up fast to meet Brynn. She snaked out an arm, tangling it around the rail and catching herself before she lost her footing entirely. Her body jerked hard against the thick wood. Dull pain bloomed in her ribs and along the back of her arm.

Low, snuffling breaths drifted through the darkness, growing louder. That thing was following her.

Panic squeezed her throat. She forced her feet forward, down the stairs again, holding tight to the rail. As soon as she hit the foyer, she bolted to the front doors, yanked them open and staggered out into the night. Collapsing to her knees on the cold gravel, her body shook with gasping sobs.

She was out. Thank God, she was out.

“Brynn?” At the sound of a man’s voice, Brynn’s pulse jumped. She looked up at Reece standing over her. “Are you all right?”

He squatted beside her, features harsh under the silvery moonlight. Was she? She wasn’t sure. She glanced back at the dark house looming above her, deceivingly quiet against a black sky filled with glittery stars. Her heart slammed against her chest like it might burst free. Her knee throbbed, and so did her shoulder. Not that she could articulate any of that through her ragged breathing.

What was he doing out here in the middle of the night, anyway? Could it have something to do with what had been going on inside? Maybe trying to make her think she was crazy.

“Is…is it you?” She squeaked. “Are you the one doing this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The shadows, the voices, are you doing it?” With her adrenaline dissipating, she finally noticed the icy sea air whipping at her bare legs and arms. Frigid chills raced over her aching body. Her teeth chattered.

“Brynn, I swear I don’t know what you mean, but we need to get you inside before you freeze.”

Gingerly, he gripped her elbow and helped her to her feet. Fresh agony screamed from her knee and she bit her lip to hold back a whimper. She must have twisted it when she fell. She grabbed hold of his jacket to steady herself.

“I…I fell…twice, actually. Can we sit, and I’ll explai—”

He didn’t give her a chance to finish. With a muttered curse, he scooped her up in his arms and strode back inside the manor.

“Wait.” Brynn wrapped her arms tight around his neck, every muscle in her body going rigid. “There’s something in there.”

“You’re choking me,” he croaked, walking into the hall. She loosened her hold, but the tension gripping her remained.

Uneasy silence wrapped around them as if the house were holding its breath, drawing them in, refusing to utter even the slightest creak in case it chased them away. The laughter, voices, footsteps and shadows had all gone, but something lingered. Malignant energy itched along her skin.

A slumbering monster, waiting to swallow you
.

“Do you feel anything?” she whispered, and winced. Even her soft words were too loud in the eerie quiet.

“We’ll talk in your room,” Reece murmured. He carried her upstairs and down the hall. She wanted to argue, beg him to take her back to his apartment, but some perverse side of her wanted him to see the shadow man. Validation to prove she wasn’t losing her mind.

Her bedroom door was still open, just as she’d left it. The room was dark except for the flickering glow from the fireplace. Brynn’s gaze darted from one wall to the next, searching for strange shadows. She inhaled deeply, for the telltale stink of rot, but only the faint scent of wood smoke hung in the air.

Reece carefully deposited her on the bed. She tried to straighten her sore knee, but quick pain bolted up her leg.

“Wait.” He grabbed one of her pillows and tucked it under her knee. “This will support it.”

She relaxed her leg. No pain, this time.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded. “Thanks.”

He reached for the lamp next to her bed and a soft click filled the quiet, but the light remained dark. With a muttered curse, his hand slid under the shade. “The bulb’s gone.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. “It can’t be. I fell asleep with it on.”

He walked away from the bed; Brynn sat up straight ready to scurry after him—sore knee or not—but he jerked around and pointed at her, his frame little more than a shadow in the dim room. “Don’t move. Stay off your knee.”

“Don’t leave me alone in here.” She cringed at the pathetic pleading in her voice.

“I won’t.” His tone softened. “What did you see, Brynn?”

“You said the place isn’t haunted, but I keep seeing things. Does that mean I’m crazy?”

He clicked one of the lamps next to the sofa, but it remained dark. “You don’t believe me, anyway. Why should what I say matter?”

Guilt twisted inside her. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. How can you—or anyone—see something that’s not real? But I keep seeing things, hearing things, and they seem pretty damn real.”

He moved on to another lamp. “Just tell me what you saw.”

She let out a shaky breath then described the shadows and voices. “There’s a smell that comes with them, mossy, sour. My grandmother used to have a container garden on her patio. In spring she changed the soil and the old earth had a horrible, sour stink. Every time I’ve seen those shadows that stench comes first.”

“All the bulbs have been taken out of these,” Reece told her, and started for the bathroom. “How many times have you seen these shadows?”

“I’ve seen the man twice in my room, smaller shadows once.” Absently, she rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “God, I sound crazy.”

“I speak to the dead. I’m the last one to say who’s mad.” He flipped the switch and the bathroom filled with light. “That’s a start.”

“I should have gone in there. I might have saved myself a fall down the stairs.”

Even in the soft bathroom light, Brynn could see his brows pull together in a frown.

“They go away when I turn on the lights,” she explained.

Reece crossed over to the switch for the chandelier. Angling his head so he could use the bathroom light to see, he inspected the buttons. “Do you have a paperclip, or pen, or something long and thin? There’s something jammed in here.”

“A nail file in my makeup bag on the bathroom counter.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, emerged with her file and picked at the switch. “Got it.”

Electric light filled her room. Relief trickled over her and some of the tension gripping her eased.

Reece returned to her bed and held out a tiny piece of black plastic in the palm of his hand. “Someone wedged this in the switch.”

“And took out all the lightbulbs from my lamps while I slept.” A shudder crawled over her skin. Whoever had been in her room could have done anything to her.

“Someone flesh and blood and very much alive, who knows enough about your shadows to make sure you couldn’t chase them away.”

Brynn wrapped her arms around her middle.
Why?
To scare her off, or something worse? She frowned. “Why were you outside in the middle of the night?”

“I was coming into the house to sleep on your settee again.” He shot her a humorless grin. “You might not take warnings about your life seriously, but I do. I had to wait for the house to go dark first.”

“What time is it?”

“Past midnight now, but it was half-past eleven when I left my flat.”

She hadn’t been asleep for long, and if Reece waited a few minutes after the house went dark to start inside, those shadows had come out as soon has her lights had been tampered with. “Do you know what these things are? What they could do to me?”

Reece shook his head. “I’ve never dealt with anything like what you’ve described. Usually when the dead sense someone like me, they can’t wait to make contact.”

Despite the nerves twisting inside her, she smirked. “You sound slighted.”

“Maybe I am. I need to see it.”

“What?” She tensed, and stabbing pain shot up her leg.

“You’re knee’s still bothering you?” he asked, and sat next to her on the edge of her bed.

“Only when I move.” She waved her hand dismissively, her knee the least of her concerns. “When you say you need to see it, what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Let’s have a look at you, then we’ll worry about ghost hunting.”

Oh, she did
not
like the sound of that. She started to tell him so, but he gingerly gripped her calf and a low charge hummed along her skin.

How could she react to him with everything going on? She wished she knew. Those deft fingers trailing her skin lit a slow pulse at her core.

“It’s okay. I just twisted it.” She tried to tug her leg from his touch, but sharp pain twinged under her kneecap. She winced.

He shot her a doubtful look. “It needs ice.”

Carefully, he set her leg back on the pillow, and started for the door. Panic welled inside her, chasing away all those warm tingly feelings. “Where are you going?”

“Down to the kitchen. I’ll just be a few minutes. You’ll be fine.” He shot a quick grin at her over his shoulder before he slipped into the hall.

With Reece gone, Brynn released a slow breath and shook her head. God, she’d become clingy over the past twelve hours. She needed to get herself under control.

What if something happened to him? Or whoever had tampered with her lights came back? Or that ghost boy’s warning came true?

Did this mean she believed Reece could see ghosts? Well, she was definitely seeing things, so why not him, too?

The door clicked open and Reece slipped inside with a bag of frozen peas in one hand.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“This will fit better against your knee than ice, and it’s just as cold.” He wrapped the bag in a towel from the bathroom and carefully placed the bundle on her knee.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t remember anyone taking care of her like this, not since she was small, not even Zack. To be fair, she’d never been pushed down the stairs by a ghost while they’d been dating.

She tried to imagine his reaction if she’d told him this story. He’d have checked her into a mental ward by now.

“How come you believe me?” Brynn asked.

Reece sat on the edge of the bed next to her, his thigh brushing hers. A light flutter tickled low inside her. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve seen things no one else can all my life.”

“Exactly.” She tilted her head and leaned closer, studying his features. “You see ghosts, but you’ve never seen the things I have, and you still believe me.”

He shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear, a delicious shiver trailing his fingertip. “You don’t strike me as prone to telling tales. Does it show intelligence?”

She frowned. “I haven’t asked it to take an IQ test or anything.”

Reece smirked. “Does it interact with you, or does just do its own thing like you’re not even there?”

She remembered the thing crawling toward her on the bed, the wet snuffling noises as it drew closer. “It scares me. When it looks at me, it radiates evil, and it pushed me down the stairs.”

“You’re certain your ghost pushed you and not a living person?” Reece asked.

She nodded. “It was more like a force than a touch, if that makes sense.”

“I want to turn out the lights, see if it will come out again.”

Her pulse jumped. “Now?”

“I’m a shit for asking, but if this thing only manifests with you here, I need you with me. We’ve the lights working now, and I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Can you make it leave?”

He shrugged. “I won’t know until I’ve seen it.”

She sighed and shrugged. “Okay.”

“Right.” He stood and crossed the room to the switch on the wall. “Ready for lights out?”

Fear coiled tight in her belly.
Not even close
. But she nodded anyway. He hit the button and plunged them into darkness.

Every muscle in Brynn’s body tensed. Her gaze shot from one end of the black room to the other, waiting for the shadow man to burst from the darkness. Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. The room remained silent, only the dull sound of smoldering wood from the fireplace in cold air.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned back against the pillows. “Reece?”

“I’m right here.” The mattress dipped and he settled beside her. “Try to relax. It could be a while—if at all.”

As if she could. “Have you done this kind of thing before?”

“This kind of thing?” Despite the dark, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Waited in the dark for a ghost to show up?”

He snorted. “I don’t usually have to wait.”

Something in his tone left her uneasy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did Detective Harding go to see you at the other property?”

“I’m not at Stonecliff because I need the work. I did something stupid, and if I do what Harding wants, he’ll make sure the charges go away.”

Charges? As in a crime? “What did you do?”

“Fraud. God, it’s such a long bloody story. Most people are not trailed by a long line of dead relatives. Making a living as a medium, you can’t always rely on the right ghosts to show up when you need them to. I learned to improvise. Sometimes the right ghosts do turn up, but people don’t want to believe what I tell them. It’s easier to call me a liar than to face the truth.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I got caught up in something and didn’t know how to get out.” His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat.

Disquiet grew inside of her. This conversation had turned too personal, too intimate. She should change the subject to something benign—the weather, maybe. Instead, she asked, “How old were you when you first started seeing…ghosts?”

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t see them. The affliction is hereditary. My mother, her brother, their mother, and on back.”

“That must have been scary when you were small.”

“Not for the reason you think,” he said, carefully. “My mother was terrified that people would think we were mad if they knew what we saw. She was convinced that I would be taken from her, institutionalized. She drilled it into me that I could never acknowledge the apparitions, the voices, and taught me to develop blocks. The strain and concentration was exhausting. She died when I was nine, and I went to live with my uncle. He didn’t share her fears and had been working as a medium for years.”