Chapter Nine

Declan and Hugh Warlow managed to avoid each other for most of the day. While Declan had spent most of it catching up on work he was missing, he had no idea what the butler had been doing until the man knocked at his bedroom door to tell him Carly had arrived and he’d left her in the parlor.

Declan glanced at his watch as he went downstairs. She was an hour earlier than they had arranged.

In the parlor, Carly stood at the window out over the water beneath the rapidly darkening sky, her expression distant, almost dreamy. He stopped just inside the doorway, the sight of her catching him like a punch to the stomach. She was beautiful in the golden glow of the sinking sun. Warm light fell over the gentle lines of her face—the soft angle of her jaw, narrow nose and slightly pointed chin. His gaze followed the flow of her caramel hair down her slender back to her dark blue jeans fit snug against her ass.

She turned and smiled at him. His heart thudded. He wanted.

“Despite everything,” Carly said. “Stonecliff has a lovely view.”

She had no idea. He cleared his too-tight throat as he moved to stand beside her. “Do you think so?”

Her grin widened. “Don’t you?”

Through the glass, tangled, overgrown lawn rolled out to a crumbing stone retaining wall at the edge of the cliff. Past the drop, the waves stretched out deep blue and infinite. Billowy clouds swept across the indigo sky pinkish orange from the reflected sunset.

Maybe she was right, and Stonecliff at least had a pretty view going for it. He’d just been so wrapped up in red-eyed shadows and burned women he hadn’t noticed.

“I’m early,” she told him, then turned away from the window and picked up the neatly folded clothes he had given her to wear. “Here you are, freshly laundered.”

He frowned. “You didn’t have to wash these. Does the village have a Laundromat?”

“As a matter of fact, no. Mrs. Leonard’s daughter-in-law let me use their machine.”

“Where’s Andy?” he asked.

“He’s coming on his own in a bit. He wanted to get something to eat first, and I wanted a chance to speak to you alone about last night.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Which part?”

Pink crept into her face. He did like when he could shake up that composed exterior. “The part where you kissed me. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

Disappointment blew through him like a cold wind. “You said you wanted me to.”

“I do…I did, but I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”

Jealousy flared in his chest. “Are you involved with someone?”

She snorted as if the suggestion were ridiculous. “No, I’m not, but you own the property I’m investigating and you’re taking part as a test subject. For there to be something beyond that between us would be unprofessional.”

He wanted to kiss her again. Kiss her and a whole lot more, actually, which wasn’t fair. He was leaving in a matter of days. Still, he heard himself ask, “What does anything between us have to do with investigating Stonecliff for ghosts?”

Her lips thinned, nostrils flaring slightly. He’d pissed her off. “I’m investigating claims of phenomena, not ghosts, and to do that I need to observe impartially. I may not be able to remain unbiased if we’re involved.”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

She shot him a wry smirk. “How was your day? Any new activity?”

So she thought she’d try the old subject change. That was fine, but they’d revisit the previous one if he had his way.

“No.” Then he thought of Mrs. Voyle and frowned. “Well, maybe.”

He sank onto the sofa, while she sat in the chair opposite, and told her about the housekeeper holding back a scream and her reaction when they found her in the kitchen.

“Did she see something?” Carly asked.

Declan shrugged. “She started to say that she had, but then insisted she just wasn’t well and wound up going home early. Incidentally, this is the woman’s first sick day—ever.”

“Do you think it could have been the shadow man?” she asked, digging out her notepad from her bag.

He shook his head. “I don’t think it was dark enough.”

“The burned woman?”

“I have no idea. Maybe the burned woman, maybe she saw a mouse.”

“It’s interesting. Last night I asked her if she’d experienced anything unusual at Stonecliff and she said she hadn’t.”

“But?”

“She wouldn’t meet my eyes when she denied it. I felt she wasn’t being entirely honest, but what’s really interesting is there seems to be a shift going here, an increase in activity. It was notable in Eleri’s interviews as she’s lived here the longest, so she’s experienced the most haunt phenomena.”

“Like what?” he asked, even though a part of him didn’t want to know.

“She had numerous shadow people experiences in the cellar, her room, her father’s sitting room, anywhere the light was low enough for it to manifest. But aside from it terrifying her, it never interacted physically, and except for hearing a child’s laugh from time to time, she never experienced any other phenomena, until this year.”

“What changed?” he asked.

She lifted her hands and shrugged. “I couldn’t say, but this past spring she found herself trapped in a stairwell, the light went out on its own and a door without a lock wouldn’t open. Trapped in the dark, a shadow person manifested. Mrs. Voyle let her out, and all of a sudden the door opened just fine and the light worked again. But before they switched on the light, Mrs. Voyle was standing practically right on top of the shadow person and had no idea it was there. Your sister Brynn heard footsteps and was pushed down the stairs, not unlike what sent me into the bog yesterday.”

He shook his head. “I think I’m missing your point.”

“Eleri lived here off and on for twenty-nine years and until this spring she never had a physical experience—both your sisters did. Mrs. Voyle had never seen anything unusual at Stonecliff until recently. This is an assumption, but if she’d witnessed phenomena in the past, I don’t think she would have been so upset she had to go home.”

“What does that mean, though?”

“This is pure speculation, I have no physical proof.” Her serious gray gaze held his.

“Speculate away.”

“I think whatever is here is gaining strength, building toward something.”

* * *

Declan sat on the chair behind the desk in his room, watching Carly and Andy set up for tonight’s investigation. Despite the cold dread knotting his gut, he couldn’t help but admire their quick efficiency, setting up meters and cameras and voice recorders like they had at The Devil’s Eye yesterday.

“We’re set,” Andy said, after checking one of the cameras. “I’ll go down. Radio me when you’re ready to start.” He patted the two-way radio on his belt.

Carly nodded. “We should be set to go in ten minutes.”

Once Andy had gone, Carly turned to him. “Tonight things will go a little differently than last night. If you see the shadow man, I want you to say so as soon as you do. There’s no guarantee that I’ll see it, so I’ll need you to tell me what it’s doing. We’re looking to see first if the shadow will manifest, then if it will interact with either of us.” She pointed to a webcam mounted on the edge of his wardrobe. “Andy will be monitoring from downstairs. I’ll be here with you.”

He wasn’t sure if that last bit was somehow meant to be comforting. “How will Andy be able to see anything in the dark?”

“It’s infrared.”

“You’ve thought of everything, I guess.”

“Right then, I’m going to switch them off.” She crossed the room and pressed the button. The room went black and chill slithered through him. He heard the click of Carly’s radio before she said, “Andy we’ve started.”

“I can see you,” Andy’s tinny voice hissed from the speaker.

She sighed and he heard the crinkle of his covers as she sank onto the edge of the bed. “And now we wait.”

* * *

Silence stretched between them as the minutes ticked by. How many hours would she be willing to wait for this thing to show up? He suspected probably all night. A part of him, the part that remembered looking into those terrible red eyes he hoped he’d never see again, wanted the thing to show up now so he could get it over with.

“Why did you choose my room for tonight?” Declan asked, mostly just to make the time go by faster than out of any real interest.

“Because you’ve witnessed it here twice, it made sense to try this room first.”

“I wondered if maybe Brynn or Eleri had experienced it more often in other rooms.”

“If memory serves, Brynn’s only experience was in her room. Eleri had multiple experiences around the house, mostly in the cellar and her bedroom.”

“Why would she have been down in the cellar?” If anywhere in Stonecliff should be haunted, it was there. Stone walls, low timber ceilings, and flickering bare bulbs that never quite lit the entire space. While he’d been down there checking the condition of the foundation, faint scratching and scurrying from the shadowy darkness filled his ears. No doubt the noises had just been mice or other vermin tucked into the walls. However, he couldn’t shake the image of his dead ancestors, or the murdered men, fighting to claw their way free of the gritty dirt floor.

“Meris James used to lock her down there when she was a child. In a strange twist, Meris fell down those same stairs and died years later.”

Declan’s stomach twisted. “Meris was one of Arthur’s wives?”

“Number three—Brynn’s mother. The woman wasn’t right. She tried to drown her own daughter at The Devil’s Eye when Brynn was three, then claimed Eleri was responsible. No one witnessed what had happened and Brynn had been too young to identify her mother. That’s when Brynn was sent to her grandparents. It wasn’t until Brynn came back here and remembered what had happened that Eleri was finally cleared of the crime.”

Declan shook his head. “Sounds like Arthur had great taste in women.”

“Actually, he had terrible luck in his marriages. Before Meris, he’d been married to Eleri’s mother, Enid James. She fell from the cliffs, but most people suspect suicide. Arthur was already involved with Meris when Enid died.”

“Given that Meris tried to kill her own kid, maybe she tried to get rid of the competition.” He remembered what Warlow said about women not doing well at Stonecliff. Is this what he had meant? “You said you met Eleri?”

Declan’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see Carly’s outline at the end of his bed. “I did, her and Kyle both. I interviewed them about their experiences here. Kyle didn’t experience anything supernatural during his stay. I suspect it was because he was staying at the lodge, and his dealings with Stonecliff and The Devil’s Eye were very limited. Though, he very nearly became one of the bodies hauled out of the bog.”

Declan stared at her blankly. As if sensing his confusion, Carly pressed on. “Kyle Peirs was a reporter for a tabloid magazine. You know the sort—celebrity scandals, alien sightings. A few years back, he came to Cragera Bay and wrote a series of articles about Eleri as a suspect in the disappearances. Most of them were terribly unflattering and out-and-out slanderous. Then the stories stopped and most people assumed he’d moved on. In truth, he’d been attacked by the same people murdering men at The Devil’s Eye and by some fluke he managed to get away.”

“Why didn’t the police put a stop to the murders then?”

Carly shrugged. “I don’t know all the details, but from what I understand he’d been drugged and didn’t remember who was responsible.”

He frowned. “You said you interviewed them both. Are they a couple?”

“I think they’re engaged. She was wearing a ring when I saw her.”

For the love of God, what was wrong with his sisters? Brynn living with some fake psychic and Eleri engaged to a man who’d published terrible stories about her. If either of those guys had tried to date Katie, Declan would have strung him up by the balls.

That was Katie, though. These other two sisters were nothing to him, strangers. He could pass them on the street and never know who they are. They—and their terrible taste in men—were not his problem.

“How long are we going to do this for?” he asked.

The light from her smart phone cut the darkness while she checked the screen. “It hasn’t even been an hour.”

It felt like five. “How long?”

Her phone went dark and blackness descended again.

“Until something happens,” she said.

He stood, restless and needing to move. “What if nothing happens?”

“Then nothing happens. Sit down before you trip on something in the dark.”

He sighed and flopped down on the bed beside her.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“Isn’t there a part of you that might be tempted to stay here—if it didn’t have all the history and haunt activity?”

He chuckled. The only part of this trip he’d be sorry to leave behind would be her. “Even if I wanted to stay, I wouldn’t. I have family back in Seattle, and since my mother died, they need me. My brother, Josh is going through a phase. He’s twenty-two and an idiot. My stepfather can’t handle him on his own right now.”

“How long has your brother been going through his phase?”

“Twenty-one years.”

A bubble of laughter burst from her lips, making him smile. “You must be close with your family.”

“Sometimes too close. Aren’t you close to yours?”

“I love them.” He could hear the frown in her voice. “But we just don’t connect. Whenever I see them all they ask me about is when will I get married? I’m a pretty girl, I shouldn’t have trouble meeting a nice man.”

“And when will you be getting married?”

She snorted. “The fifth of never. Do you know the odds of actually maintaining a successful marriage?”

“Um…no.”

“Slim. More than half of marriages end in divorce, and I would bet a quarter of the ones left are actually happy.”

The bitterness in her voice caught him by surprise. He took her hand in his. “That’s pretty cynical.”

“It’s reality. Believe me, I grew up with it. Those same two people who want me to settle down and get married barely speak five complete sentences to each other in a day.”

“My mother and Allen were happy.” His mother had been Allen’s rock, and now his stepfather was bereft. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“They must be part of the one quarter.”

“Or maybe the statistics are better than you think.” He lifted his free hand, brushed his fingers over her cheek, her skin like warm silk under his touch.

“Declan?” His name, low and throaty on her lips, warmed his blood.

“Yes.” He trailed his fingers over her jaw, down the slender column of her neck.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m touching you, then I’m going to kiss you.” Her throat jumped under his fingertips. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

* * *

Carly’s heart thudded against her chest, warmth leaching out into her limbs. What was she doing? Making a huge mistake probably, but just then she didn’t give a damn. His fingers traced her collarbone and a delicious shiver whispered over her skin. Her nipples hardened.

He leaned in and caught her mouth with his, but rather than push him back, Carly wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips, giving his tongue access. He tasted faintly of mint. His hand on her back pushed her breasts against his chest, and a steady throb beat at her core.

His mouth, those clever hungry lips, grew harder, more demanding. A gnawing hunger built inside her, leaving her skin hot and itchy beneath her clothes.

She wanted them gone, peeled away so she could feel him against her. Flesh against flesh. Skin against skin. She wanted to trail her fingers over his body, explore every ridge, every plane.

Her hand curled into the soft fabric of his T-shirt, ready to drag it over his head, when he tore his mouth from hers, leaving her lips tingling and breath coming fast.

“Do you smell that?” he whispered.

Smell what? All she could smell was pine and…something rotted. She stiffened in his arms. “Something’s happening.”

“I know.” He stood slowly, gaze darting from one end of the dark room to the other. “It’s here.”

The stink of rot thickened in the air, putrid, sour, filling her nasal passages, her throat until she thought she’d gag.

A hulking figure materialized at the far end of the room black and opaque, darker than the darkness surrounding them. Furious delight radiated from its form. Everything inside her turned loose and cold.

A thick gurgling filled the room. Where its face should have been there was only darkness and two glowing red eyes. She’d never seen anything like it, but worse was the fear it emitted, the bleak revulsion coursing inside her.

The thing shifted, ambling closer to Declan. On instinct, she reached for the light switch—she didn’t want that thing any closer to him than it was—but she squeezed her hand into a fist and forced her arm to her side.

They were here for a reason.

Carly turned and snatched up one of the video cameras, then eased closer to Declan to get a better shot.

“Now what?” Declan asked, voice thick.

She swallowed hard, struggling against her swelling anxiety. “Try to engage with it. Talk to it.”

“Are you out of your mind? What am I supposed to say to it?”

“Ask it anything? Maybe we’ll pick up on the EVP.”

Declan muttered an unintelligible curse, then said, “Why are you here? What do you want?”

If it understood Declan, it gave no indication. The gurgling, choking continued uninterrupted as it shimmied closer to them. With every step, hate exuding from its form strengthened, intensifying the terror building inside Carly.

“What are you?” Declan muttered. Then to Carly, “We need the lights.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Yes.”

She reached for the lamp nearest them on the small desk by the window. She wasn’t convinced her rubbery legs could carry her to the switch on the wall without giving out. Her fingers moved blindly over the smooth porcelain until they found the knob. She twisted it and the lamp flickered for an instant before the bulb exploded. Tiny glass fragments showered her hand before she could jerk back.

Muted popping filled the room followed by the tinkling of glass hitting the floor—the bulbs in all the lamps bursting. She needed to switch on the chandelier. She took a step toward the far wall, but Declan’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The lights exploded overhead as he jerked her against his chest. Glass shards rained down over them, and Declan covered her head with his arms, held her tight against his chest.

No light. No way to chase away the thing before them.

Once the glass stopped falling, she eased back and met the red glare fixed on them. The shadow had stopped moving and stood just three feet away. Rage and hate oozed from its mass, building, gathering like an electrical charge, a storm on the brink of tearing loose. The fine hairs on her arms stood at attention as if the room were charged with static electricity.

Panic built inside her.

“We have to get out of here,” she whispered.

“Run,” Declan said, pushing her back from him toward the door. “It doesn’t want you.”

Her fingers grasped his shirt. “You come, too.”

Before he could argue, a huge boom rocked the house as if someone had set off a bomb.