The Devil's Eye

Chapter Two

“What the hell?” Reece’s shout barely penetrated the fog wrapped around Brynn’s brain. He reached over and jerked the steering wheel sideways. The wall of trees on the opposite side of the drive rose up fast, and she stomped on the brake, seatbelt digging into her shoulder.

“Clutch!” Reece yelled.

She slammed her other foot on the small pedal, as Reece maneuvered the gearshift. The car jolted to a stop across the width of the drive, facing the tree-lined ridge.

At least she wasn’t looking at the sea anymore.

Brynn slumped against the seat, bile creeping up the back of her throat. She locked her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut. The last thing she wanted was to wind up doubled over emptying her stomach—and with an audience, no less.

“You nearly took us over the bloody cliff,” Reece snarled.

Even if she could have spoken without retching, she didn’t have a clue what to say. The minute her gaze had landed on the ocean, her brain ceased functioning. Her body had locked up except to steer where she looked.

She’d had panic attacks before when faced with large bodies of water, but she’d never shut down so completely. To be fair, she’d never come face-to-face with the place where her phobia had originated, either.

Cold dread curdled her insides. Had she made a mistake coming here? All those questions, maybe she was better off not knowing the answers.

Something brushed her stomach. She jerked back and opened her eyes. Reece reached across her lap.

“What are you doing?” she muttered, between clenched teeth.

“You’re white as death.” He pressed the button, lowering her window. Frigid air swept inside. The soft hush of the surf beating the shore filled her ears and a quiver rippled up her spine.

“Put your head down before you’re sick or pass out.” Reece pressed his hand to her back, forcing her to bend forward and to the side of the steering wheel. She might have argued, but she didn’t trust her insides enough to open her mouth.

Heat from his palm seeped through her knit jacket, warming her despite the wind gusting through the window. Brynn let out a slow breath, releasing some of the tension gripping her. She closed her eyes, dragged in another gulp of damp air. The pounding of her heart eased, and her breathing turned regular.

“Was it the height?” Reece’s tone was softer and slightly less combative than before.

She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. Heat stung her cheeks despite the chill. God, she must look crazy. “The water.”

“The water?”

The amused disbelief in his voice grated her already taut nerves. She sat up and his hand fell away. “A fear of water isn’t unusual, you know?”

“I suppose not, but someone suffering a fear of water visiting an island seems odd. Did you not know Ynys Mon was an island?”

“Of course I knew,” she snapped, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive.

He frowned. “How in the hell did you ever manage to fly across the ocean to get here?”

“I’m not afraid to fly.”

“You pitch a fit when you catch sight of the sea—”

“I did not pitch a fit!

“—but flying over it has no effect?”

“If the plane went down, I’d be dead when I hit the water. I wouldn’t have to worry about drowning.”

He stared at her like she’d sprouted another head.

She wished she could crawl under the seat. “Can we just go?”

“You tell me.”

She reached for the keys, but his hand wrapped around hers, warm and strong. Something fluttered low inside her. Just nerves.

“Maybe I should drive.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “Aside from not wanting to wind up crushed at the bottom of the cliff, God knows how bloody long it’ll take you to get turned around again.”

She just wanted this trip to end. “Fine.”

Reece didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. He got out of the car; she did likewise. They passed each other wordlessly as they rounded the back. She kept her gaze fixed on the muddy ground, refusing to allow herself a glance at those dark waves. Her breathing was still coming faster than normal. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge she clung to.

She collapsed into the passenger seat and tugged the belt over her shoulder. As if unable to help herself, she peeked at the slate water roiling and exploding against the shore. Her blood iced over, drained from her face. She squeezed her eyes closed.

The engine rumbled to life, low vibrations humming through her taut muscles. She felt the car roll slowly forward and curve back onto the drive.

“It still runs.” Reece said. “I was a bit worried you’d left the gearbox back there.”

“Ha, ha. You must have been a comedian before landing this job.”

“Not quite. Are you keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at the water?” The image of those endless waves flashed across her mind and a shudder crawled over her skin. The question must have been rhetorical. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply. “You do realize Stonecliff overlooks the sea? Unless you plan on keeping your eyes closed your entire visit, you’ll likely have to look at it at some point during your stay.”

Didn’t she know it. Her reaction to open water hadn’t been this bad in years, but to be fair she usually made considerable effort to avoid lakes and oceans…rivers…paddling pools.

She’d be fine. She hadn’t expected to come upon the water when the car emerged from the trees. She’d just been caught off guard.

“You’re not about to go off again, are you?” Suspicion laced his deep voice.

“I’m ignoring you.”

He snorted, and she cracked an eye risking a peek at him. Even with only the faint glow of the dash lights, she could make out his grin. His entire face changed when he smiled like that, those granite features softening. The flutter in her belly returned.

As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his chin toward the windshield. “There’s the house.”

She opened both eyes and looked straight ahead. A hulking outline materialized from the gloom. The manor sat atop a large plateau overlooking the sea. At the rocky edge, the ground sloped steeply toward the water. A thick tangle of forest hemmed in the house at the back.

She held her breath, waiting for some hint of recognition, some spark of memory.

Nothing, only shivery unease.

Reece pulled into a large courtyard, driving past an ancient coach house, and parking her rental in front the manor before cutting the engine. Silence wrapped around them, except for the rain beating crazily on the car’s roof.

“Ready?” he asked.

Not even close. But she swallowed hard and nodded, anyway.

Brynn opened the car door and stepped out. Wind gusted, spraying her with freezing rain and wet snow. She kept her attention fixed on the ground to avoid looking at the water. For all the good it did with the brine thick in the air and the rush of the surf pounding the shore below.

She met Reece at the rear of the car, took back her keys and opened the trunk. As she hauled her carry-on bag onto her shoulder, Reece lifted out her suitcase.

“You don’t have to take that. I can manage,” she told him, quickly.

He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I do.”

He started for the manor. Brynn slammed the trunk closed and hurried after him, but her gaze locked on the house. Stone walls, black from the wet weather, gleamed despite the darkness. Lights from two second-floor windows on either side of the vestibule glowed like yellow eyes over a dark, cavernous mouth.

Don’t go in there. The thought popped into her head, bringing with it an irrational swell of fear. Her breath hitched and she froze midstep.

“What are you doing now?” Reece’s exasperated voice dragged her attention to his scowl.

“Nothing.” She had to pull herself together. She’d already made an ass of herself in front of him once today. She’d really like to at least get inside with some shred of dignity in place.

She swallowed the coppery taste in her mouth and forced her feet forward, following Reece beneath the archway of the darkened vestibule. He opened the heavy oak door, moved aside and allowed her to go in first.

The wild panic surging through her vanished the moment she stepped into the warm hallway. Tiny prisms of color cast through dangling crystals on the intricate chandelier above danced over the patterned tile floor. Her gaze swept over the space, from the square staircase with a thick wooden banister, to the faded wallpaper and antique pieces of furniture.

There was nothing frightening, nothing menacing, just a sense of worn elegance.

Slowly, her heart settled into a normal rhythm and a wave of exhaustion rolled over her. Maybe bouts of paranoia were common in cases of extreme jet lag.

The door behind her closed with a solid thunk. Her face heated. She must look like some high-strung neurotic. Though, after today, maybe she was.

“Lord all mighty, Reece Conway. What can you be thinking?” A woman’s shrill voice broke into her thoughts. Brynn looked up at a tiny, ferret-faced woman storming down the stairs. The hem of her navy skirt brushed her calves, hissing against her thick beige hose with each step. “You’re not to be bringing your strumpets back here.”

Disdain curled the woman’s thin mouth as her nearly black gaze swept Brynn from foot to head.

Brynn turned to Reece. Did he bring a lot of women back here? What difference did it make? She didn’t even like the man, and he certainly wasn’t her type. He reminded her of those boys from high school with their ripped jeans and leather jackets. The kind of boys her grandparents would have grounded her for life if she had ever shown an interest in.

“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Reece said, flashing a hard smile. “Ms. James is Eleri’s guest, not mine. Maybe you ought to fetch her and tell her that her sister has arrived.”

The woman’s close-set eyes narrowed, high-arced brows pulling into a confused frown. Her gaze bounced from Reece to Brynn. “It can’t be.”

Unease settled over Brynn, bringing with it a faint chill. This wasn’t how she’d imagined her return.

“Find Eleri,” Reece said. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased to explain all of this.”

Without a word, the woman hurried down the hall.

Brynn turned to Reece, tight knots twisting her stomach. “Who was that?”

“Mrs. Voyle?” He slid his hands into his jeans’ pockets and leaned back against the door. “She’s the housekeeper.”

Brynn nodded slowly. “You didn’t know I was coming, did you?”

He shrugged. “Eleri James is hardly going to discuss such things with me.”

“And the housekeeper didn’t know either.”

“Obviously.”

If the staff hadn’t been told about her impending arrival, what about her father?

“You’ve made it, at last.” Brynn turned to the small woman emerging from the same hall Mrs. Voyle had disappeared down. “I was beginning to worry.”

Brynn’s throat tightened. This was her sister. How could her grandparents have kept this from her, died without telling her the truth?

Brynn searched for some sort of familial recognition, a fragment of memory.

Nothing.

If she’d passed Eleri on the street there was nothing about the woman that would make Brynn give her a second look. Nothing that so much as hinted they were related, let alone shared the same father.

Eleri was small, a good four or five inches shorter than Brynn’s own five foot seven. Her frame was tiny, though it was hard to be sure, swallowed up the way she was by an oversized gray sweater and baggy gray pants. Dark brown hair, cut blunt, framed her sharp features and curled beneath her pointed chin.

They looked nothing alike…except the eyes, maybe. Dark brown and lifting slightly at the corners, and interestingly, the feature Brynn liked least about herself.

She forced an awkward smile. “I got a little lost. Luckily, I ran into Reece at the pub when I stopped for directions.”

“Lucky, indeed.” The woman’s gaze shifted to Reece, her tone cooling considerably. “Found you at the pub, did she? No surprise there.”

Reece glowered; a muscle ticked at his jaw. “It was my afternoon off.”

Animosity thickened the air between them, and Brynn stepped back as if unconsciously moving out of the line of fire.

Eleri crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side. “Take Brynn’s things to the front guest room. Mrs. Voyle can direct you. Whatever time you’ve had to take from drinking yourself into oblivion, you can have tomorrow. Provided I don’t need you for anything else, of course.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Brynn broke in. She wasn’t comfortable with Reece hauling her suitcases around like a bellhop. “I’ve managed them this far…”

She might as well have kept her mouth shut. Reece didn’t so much as look her way as he bent to gather her bags.

“No, really you don’t have to.” Brynn reached to take her case from him, but he jerked it away and pinned her with a frigid glare.

“This is what they pay me for.” He hoisted her bags and started down the hall.

“Sorry about that,” Eleri said, once he’d gone. “He’s new.”

“I don’t like someone waiting on me,” Brynn said. “And for the record, I also believe in being nice to waiters and cashiers.”

Having waited tables in college to supplement her student loan, she liked to imagine there was a special corner of hell set aside for people who got their rocks off by being rude to people in the service industry.

Eleri crossed the foyer and pushed open a dark wooden door. “Do you think he might quit?”

“Do you want him to?”

“It’s better for him if he does.”

Brynn followed Eleri into a large living room. Cream-colored walls with pale blue inlay looked rich, especially with a cream brocade Louis XIV settee and chairs. But as she moved farther into the room, she realized it was a facade. Thin cracks spidered across the plaster walls. The fabric on the settee was worn and split. Fluffy white stuffing poked out from the arm of one of the chairs where the material had frayed.

“Sit down. You must be exhausted, and you’re soaked through.” Eleri crossed to the fire in the hearth and lifted the poker. She jabbed the smoldering log until it crumbled, tiny flames lighting along the edges. Orange glow flickered across Eleri’s small features, giving her an almost demonic appearance.

Brynn slowly sank into the chair closest to the door. What in the hell had she gotten herself into? “Reece and the housekeeper didn’t know I was coming.”

“No, they didn’t,” Eleri said, without meeting her gaze.

“Arthur doesn’t know either, does he?”

A faint flush crept into Eleri’s face. Her mouth pulled into a wry smirk. “If I know Iola Voyle, he does now. Our father’s ill. I didn’t want him upset with the anticipation of your arrival. He can be very stubborn.”

Eleri’s admission hit her like a kick to the stomach stealing her breath. “You came looking for me. You said he wanted to make his peace with me before he died.”

“He does. He will,” Eleri said, quickly, setting down the poker.

Brynn stood, and raked her fingers through her damp hair. “I won’t stay where I’m not welcome.”

Though, the idea of hauling her bags out to her car and facing the sea again sent a fresh wave of exhaustion rolling through her. Maybe she could stand on that particular principal starting first thing tomorrow.

“I want you here.” Eleri sat on the chair opposite Brynn. “Our father’s dying. Soon we will be all the family we have left, and we know nothing about each other.”

Brynn’s anger fizzled. She knew what it was to be on her own. Her grandparents were gone, and so was Zack. Never before had she so keenly felt like the orphan she was.

She flopped back into the chair. “He doesn’t want me here.”

On some level she had expected this reaction. After all, her father had always known where she was and never once tried to contact her. Still, as much as Brynn hated to admit it, some small part of her had been hoping for the sitcom father-daughter reunion. Even if her cynical side knew she was in for a much different outcome.

As usual, her cynical side was right.

“When I called you the first time, you were adamant when you said you wouldn’t come here,” Eleri reminded her.

Brynn nodded. Apparently, her first instinct had been the right one.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I found the paperwork granting my grandparents custody.” And her mother’s letters, one for every birthday from the time Brynn turned four until she was eleven. Each letter filled with her mother’s love…and her fears.

“You came here to understand where you came from, who you are, to know something of your family. You mustn’t let him spoil that for you.”

Don’t let the man’s blatant rejection spoil meeting him for the first time? Brynn shot her sister a baleful stare. “Maybe I should stay at a hotel while I’m here.”

“He’ll come around,” Eleri said, quickly.

Brynn wished she were as confident as Eleri sounded. Unease scuttled up her spine. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, or rid herself of the small voice whispering in the back of her brain, What else isn’t your sister telling you?

Chapter Three

Reece’s head thudded like it was about to explode. He set down Brynn’s cases and pressed his fingers to his forehead. His skull pulsed like a cartoon character struck with an anvil. He’d swear that bastard knew exactly what places like the pub did to him and insisted on meeting there on purpose.

He glanced at his watch. Five-forty. Damn, he was late. Maybe if wrapped up what he needed to here and took one of the cars back to the pub, he’d make it before the other man left.

If this headache didn’t knock him on his ass first.

The pills he’d swallowed in the car had taken the edge off, but not much more. He reached into his pocket, curling his fingers around the plastic vial. If he popped another, he’d be down for the night and driving would be out of the question. Lord save him if he missed this meeting.

Bloody Dylis Paskin and her grand ideas, but she’d jump at any excuse to get him out of her place. He’d like to believe his connection to Stonecliff was what made the woman so uncomfortable around him, but he knew better. Like so many others, she sensed something off, something not quite right, and while he’d never given her cause to refuse him at her establishment, she looked for any reason to keep his visits short. Ironically, were it up to him, he’d never darken her door.

He sighed, snatched up Brynn’s cases and continued on to the kitchen.

He’d had everything timed perfectly—until Brynn walked in. He hadn’t even known Arthur James had another daughter. Or had he? Hadn’t he heard something about Eleri and a sister? Of course, the story ended with Eleri having killed the infant. But that’s how all the stories about Eleri ended—in death and murder. With so many, how could he keep track of them all? Or know which to believe?