Cusp of night, p.14
Cusp of Night, page 14
Collin left the room at a brisk walk, never breaking stride when he flipped the switch in the hallway. Once again, the electric failed. Maya stayed close, bubbling fear rolling off her in waves.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Collin tracked the sound to the left wall of the front room. Behind him, Maya hovered just inside the door. She tried the light switch, sending a flat click echoing through the empty room. Her tread was tentative as she stepped closer.
Rap. Rap.
Collin rested his fingertips against the patterned paper, the surface cold as ice. A faint chime resonated from the other side of the wall, the light tinkling of a bell. Leaning closer, he pressed his ear to the wallpaper. Cold lanced through him. He blew out a breath, surprised to see it plume in the air.
Maya hugged her arms close. “It’s getting colder. Do you feel it?”
“Yeah.” They weren’t going to accomplish anything in the dark. “Do you have candles?”
“Downstairs.”
“Can you get them?”
Maya nodded and started for the hall.
A cacophony of sound exploded—chimes, bells, whistles—all jangling one upon the other like the shrill of a discordant calliope. The door swept shut with a bang.
Maya gasped and groped for the doorknob. “It’s going to seal us in.”
Nudging her out of the way, Collin wrapped his palm over the knob and tugged. The door remained firmly sealed in place. Needles of ice shot up his arm, the harsh dissonance of clangs and dings swelling in volume.
Maya pressed her hands to her ears. “Why won’t it stop?”
Something shot from the floor. Collin caught the movement from the corner of his eye, ducking when a skinny horn-shaped cylinder soared over his head. Maya’s scream bounced off the walls, immediately swallowed by the raucous musical dirge. The odd instrument vanished through the ceiling. Seconds later it was back, the mouth a wide-open ring banded by a luminous coil of light. Collin pushed Maya behind him.
Just that quickly all sound ceased. The door flew open, hall light and lamplight flooding the room. The harsh rasp of Collin’s breath was mirrored by Maya.
“What the…eff”—It took all his effort to bite off the curse—“just happened?” Pressing a hand to his forehead, he slumped against the wall. His ears rang and his pulse beat in his temples.
“Now you believe me.” Maya’s voice quavered. Her eyes were enormous, her face a chalk-white shell.
“I do.” There was no longer any question the place was haunted.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
There was only one thing he could do. He nodded toward the source of the rapping sounds. “I’m going to come back tomorrow with a hammer and bust into that wall. If there’s something hidden, I’m going to find it.”
Chapter 9
April 20, 1898
Lucinda sat in bed, her back braced by pillows, a lace handkerchief balled in her hand. Aside from using the necessary room as required, her feet hadn’t touched the floor in two days. She knew she should get up and bathe. Wash her face, fix her hair, and try to make herself presentable. But what did it matter? Simon was gone, and the only people who called or wanted to see her were those who came to gloat over her exposure as a fraud.
Simon hadn’t taken care of himself or seen a doctor as promised. Instead, he’d kept his deteriorating health a secret. When she’d performed for Alden Harwood of the PSR, her beloved husband had been overcome by a fit of coughing. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The attack had struck while he’d moved around the séance room, concealed in black, using spirit hands to touch the sitters. Lucinda had rushed from her spirit cabinet when he’d crumpled to the floor; the various bells, whistles, and chimes she manipulated by wire visible to her sitters. She hadn’t cared about the exposure, or the damage it would do to her reputation. All that mattered was Simon, but he was already gone by the time she reached him.
The headline in the morning paper was not kind—Lady Glass, Lady Fraud. The Blue Lady’s Black Heart Exposed.
No one cared that she was drowning in grief. Malicious letters appeared on her doorstep.
Let’s see you summon your husband from Summerland like you faked summoning mine.
How could you pretend to be my child, talking to me from the Aether? Have you no shame?
I believed in you, but you’re a fake like all the rest.
Your blue skin marks you for the trash you are.
Garbage and rotted fruit were thrown at the street-facing windows, refuse dropped on the front stoop. Lucinda had been oblivious throughout, learning the details only when Emma shared them. She didn’t care about the slander or spiteful wickedness from others. She’d been ridiculed most of her life. Even the cruelest remarks were unable to faze her.
But Simon was gone. The love of her life had left her widowed and alone at the age of twenty.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed into the handkerchief. He would be buried tomorrow, a private viewing for her and Emma preceding the grim journey to the churchyard. How would she ever be able to say good-bye when they placed him in the ground? Her heart was broken. Shattered.
Lucinda looked up at the sound of the door opening.
Emma entered, carrying a tray with tea and toast. She moved purposefully to the side of the bed, depositing the serving platter on the nightstand.
“You need to eat something.” Her stern gaze brooked no argument. Without waiting for a reply, she crossed to the nearest window and flung open the drapes. “You have kept yourself sequestered for two days, sealed in a tomb of your own devising. Simon would not want this.” Briskly, she parted the drapes on an adjacent window.
Lucinda blinked as bright light flooded her dismal domain. Tears streaked her face. “Have you no compassion? My husband is dead.”
Hands on hips, Emma turned to face her. “He never should have married you.”
“Do not say such a thing.”
“He had been ill for a long time.”
Betrayal sliced through Lucinda. “You told me he was fine.”
“Only after you already had a ring on your finger. What would you expect? Had I been here prior, I would have stopped such foolishness from happening.”
“My marriage was not foolishness!” Lucinda’s voice lurched in outrage. “Don’t you understand how much I loved him? Cruelty from others I expect, but not from you.” Knotting her fingers into the soft cotton of the bedspread, she bowed her head and wept.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Emma eased onto the mattress beside her. Wrapping an arm around Lucinda’s shoulders, she hugged her close. “I’m sorry for my tone. I should not have spoken so callously. I promise this pain will pass.”
“How?” Lucinda could not conceive of ever feeling happy again. Of wanting to feel such emotion without Simon at her side. “I don’t care about the fame or money, or even that I’ve been disgraced. The shame doesn’t matter. I just want my husband.”
Lucinda knew her expression had to be stricken, her eyes blotchy and red from crying. If only she could curl up and escape into sleep where Simon held her in her dreams. To shut out the world and blot reality from her mind.
“Emma, I’m not sure I can go on without Simon.”
The other woman regarded her steadily, a queer light in her eyes. Her mouth thinned into the same harsh line as before. “I have something for you. The funeral director took it off Simon when they…prepared him.” With her free hand, she felt inside the skirt pocket of her mourning dress.
The object she withdrew was familiar, triggering a wave of fresh sorrow. Lucinda accepted the silver watch with trembling fingers. “He had it with him.”
Emma nodded but didn’t say anything.
Lucinda ran her thumb over the inscription. You are the keeper of my heart for all time. She’d agonized over that message, wanting it to convey the extreme measure of her love and devotion.
“I wanted him to have my picture close. A reminder of our love for each other.”
Another nod from Emma.
Sniffling, Lucinda opened the cover. A stabbing pain knifed her stomach. “No.” The word broke from her throat in a wail. “No, it’s not possible.”
Simon had replaced her photograph with that of another woman.
Emma’s voice came from somewhere far away. “I thought you should know. The only woman he ever loved was Josette.”
* * * *
Present Day
Maya threw together a turkey and cheese sandwich for lunch at the library while Collin drank black coffee at the snack bar. She’d already downed two cups herself, the late nights of ghostly visitations adding up. Even with morning light brightening the kitchen, she would have been happy to crawl back into bed for a few hours. She’d managed her hair and makeup as usual but had opted for casual capris instead of a skirt. The thought of heels didn’t cut it today.
“I’ve got a few things to take care of at Hode Development,” Collin said from his seat on the opposite side of the bar. “But I can be back in the afternoon to start on the wall.” He drained the last of the liquid from his coffee mug and stood.
Maya spread mayonnaise on a piece of rye bread. “I want to know what’s behind that wall, too, but you can’t just rip the place apart. It belongs to Imelda.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just going to punch a few holes. I’ll repair any damage I do. What time do you get off work?”
“Five o’clock.” She tucked the sandwich into a plastic bag.
“Do you want to grab dinner together?”
She looked over her shoulder, trying to measure the motive behind the invitation but saw nothing to set off alarm bells. “Sure. I’m still learning the town, so I’ll leave the details up to you. I’ll give you a spare key so you can get back into the house.” She started to root through her purse on the counter.
“Don’t worry about it.” Collin waved her aside. “We have keys at the office for the properties we manage. I’ll grab one there.” His smile was slight. “I’ll see you later today. Right now, I’m as curious as you are about what’s going on in this house.”
At least now she knew she hadn’t imagined the ghostly visitations.
Later, at the library, she had lunch with Brook and Ivy in the staff room. She thought about telling them what happened each night when the clock struck 2:22, but breaking news overshadowed anything she might say.
According to a report on Channel 42, Graham Kingston had been found. From the small TV in the break room, Christy Catterman spoke solemnly into her microphone. “Authorities aren’t revealing much, only that Kingston’s condition is guarded, and he has yet to relay what happened the night he and Tina Sanford disappeared. As reported earlier, Sanford’s body was discovered yesterday, washed up on the bank near Amethyst Hall. Autopsy reports confirm she drowned, but also indicate a head wound. More details on this story as they develop. Back to you, Clayton.”
On the verge of tears, Ivy breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been saying so many prayers for Graham.”
Maya rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “Looks like he’s a pretty tough guy.”
Brook’s head bobbed up and down. “I’ve been burning incense, but it doesn’t sound like he’s out of the woods yet. I wonder what guarded condition means?”
“Maybe they just want to keep things quiet for now.” Maya took a bite of her sandwich. Beyond the door, someone walked past on their way to the restroom. “I’m sure they need to talk to him about what happened that night.”
“Well, they better not try to make it seem like he had anything to do with Tina’s death.” Ivy sat straighter, her posture stiff. “I’ve known Graham a long time, and he’d never hurt anyone.”
“More than anything, they’re probably hoping he can shed light on what happened.” Maya did her best to put her friend’s mind at ease.
“Maybe it has to do with the break-ins,” Brook suggested. “It seems there’s at least one every day.” She dragged a plastic fork through a concoction of chilled noodles, seaweed, and bean sprouts. A yellow straw jutted from a glass of something frothy and green at her elbow.
“I’ve been hearing about them, too.” Ivy dabbed a tissue under her eyes, before slipping it beneath the edge of her paper plate. “Nothing of value is ever taken, just food and random junk. The whole thing is kind of weird. I also heard it’s mostly back porches and empty properties that have been hit. Almost like someone is scavenging scraps.”
Maya’s cell phone chimed, displaying a text message from Collin.
Done early. Heading home, then to your place. See you tonight.
She tapped out an Okay and a Thanks, conscious she was smiling. As a librarian, and someone who valued words, it was refreshing to find a full message rather than the common abbreviations used in texting. No doubt the result of his business background.
“You look happy.”
Ivy’s observation pulled Maya from her thoughts. “Oh.” She fumbled to recover. “It’s nothing. Just a text message I got.”
“Your sister?”
“No.” She might as well tell them the truth. “It’s from Collin Hode.”
Ivy froze, a carrot stick paused in mid-air.
Brook swiveled to face her. “Did you say Collin Hode?”
Maya nodded. For the next few minutes she relayed everything that had been happening in the house, ending with Collin’s visit and his plans to tear open the wall. While Ivy appeared shocked, Brook was riveted. She clapped her hands together.
“This is wonderful. You have an actual ghost.”
“Wonderful?” Maya didn’t think it was anything of the sort. “I don’t know what’s going on in the house, Brook, but it doesn’t appear friendly.”
“Has it hurt you?”
“No.”
“It might be trying to communicate through the only means it has.”
“Sealing me in a room with bizarre orchestration blaring in the background?”
“Never mind that.” Ivy had recovered the power of speech. “Collin Hode actually spent the night there?”
Maya squirmed, not wanting the conversation to veer in that direction. “He’s a decent guy, Ivy. I know Hode Development gets a lot of bad press—”
“They’re going to tear down Pin Oaks.”
If only she could tell her friend the truth. “Forget about that. He’s doing me a favor. That’s all I care about right now. I needed to know I wasn’t going crazy or having a delayed flashback to my acci—” The word caught in her throat. Ivy knew about the crash, but Maya had no desire to relive the moment by sharing the details with Brook.
Ivy dropped her gaze.
Brook appeared not to have heard most of the discussion. “We should try and contact it. The ghost.” She looked from one to the other, her expression like that of a kid about to embark on an adventure.
“How?” Ivy asked.
“Through a séance.”
“No.” Maya’s tone was firm. “There’s been enough séances in my house if what Imelda told me about the Blue Lady is true. I want this thing, whatever it is, to leave me alone. I don’t want to encourage it.”
“Then you should talk to Sonia DeLuca,” Ivy said. “Imelda told you she knew all about the Blue Lady. She also owned the rocker. Maybe you need to get rid of the chair.”
“Maybe.” Distracted, Maya picked at the crust on her sandwich. “First, I’d like to know what’s behind that wall. And you’re right—I do need to talk to Sonia DeLuca. Even if there’s a rational explanation for what’s happening in the house, I want to know who the Blue Lady was. When I saw her image in the glass—” She shook her head, remembering the melancholy on the face reflected there. “I don’t think she had a happy life.”
* * * *
Collin swung by Amethyst Hall after finishing early at Hode Development. He planned a quick stop to change clothes, grab some tools, and down a sandwich before heading to Maya’s brownstone. Given his mother was at a garden club meeting or spa appointment—he couldn’t remember which—he decided to make sure his father didn’t need anything before he headed out again.
His dad had seemed edgy the other night, but his restlessness could be attributed to the attack. Why else would he ask such an insensitive question about the girl whose body Collin had found?
Once in the Great Room, he discovered a half-finished glass of soda near his father’s favorite chair. But the room was empty, the TV dark. Continuing down the hall, he headed in the direction of the den. He was almost to the door when his father’s angry voice carried into the corridor.
“There’s no reason it should be taking this long.”
Curious, Collin edged closer.
The door stood ajar, a slim gap visible between the frame and jamb. His father faced the window in profile, cell phone pressed to his ear, mouth screwed up in an unpleasant line.
“That’s not an excuse.” Belligerent energy rolled off him as he paced. “How long does it take to find one single person? Especially him. If you weren’t such a damn liability, I’d fire you.”
What the hell?
Collin leaned closer. The last time he’d heard his dad this irate was when Collin had wandered into his den unannounced. He’d been on his cell that time too, berating the caller for contacting him at home.
“The kid’s father is my painting contractor…” His dad moved deeper into the room, his voice fading.
Why was he discussing Graham Kingston?
Some of the nastier scuttlebutt in town insinuated Graham could be responsible for Tina’s death, but Collin didn’t buy it.
“Damn it, you’re not listening to me.”
Collin jerked as his dad stalked closer to the door.
“He’s not right in the head. If he kills someone, you’re as liable as I am.”
Kill? He couldn’t mean Graham. It took all of Collin’s control not to burst into the room.
