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“What’s the name of the shop?”
“Dowling Curiosities on King Street. The man I spoke with is Owen Dowling.”
Devlin gave a brief nod. “I’ll check him out.”
“We also found a stereogram—the card that fits into the stereoscope. The image was of a man and two girls standing in front of a white two-story house. I took the card and the stereoscope to the Institute so that Dr. Shaw could have a look at them. He identified the man as Ezra Kroll.”
“As in Kroll Colony?”
“You know about that place?” I asked in astonishment. “Why have I never heard of it?
“It’s like your abandoned graveyards,” Devlin said. “Years pass, people forget. And it’s so far off the beaten track the only way to get there is by foot or horseback.”
“Then, how do you know about it?”
“When I was a kid, my grandfather owned a Thoroughbred farm not far from Isola. Some of the old-timers that worked for him would occasionally mention Kroll Colony. They were still superstitious about that place.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“A few times. It was mandatory that I spend a couple of weeks every summer on the farm to build character,” he said with a humorless smile. “The housekeeper had a boy about my age. Nathan Fortner. His grandfather had once been a cop, but after his retirement, he took a job in the stables. He used to tell grisly stories about the Colony, so naturally Nathan and I would ride over to the ruins anytime we could sneak away. We’d sometimes spend the whole afternoon poking through the buildings. Some of the roofs had caved in so the place was dangerous. I’m sure that was a big part of the attraction.”
“Go on.” I leaned forward, captivated by this glimpse into Devlin’s early years. He rarely volunteered information about his childhood.
“All I remember is an old commissary, a couple of dormitories for the single colonists and a few smaller buildings for the families. Some of the houses still had scraps of old clothing and toys strewn about and the commissary even had dishes on the table from the colonists’ last meal.”
“I’m surprised that stuff wasn’t carted off a long time ago as souvenirs. People can be ghoulish about that sort of thing.”
“I’m sure some of it was, but the locals mostly kept their distance. Like I said, it was a spooky place, difficult to get to and not much to see once you got there.”
“Is it still standing?”
“All the buildings burned to the ground a long time ago. There’s nothing left now but the cemetery.”
“Do you know how the colonists died?”
“Cyanide most likely. Back then, you could find it in local feed stores.” A grim note crept into Devlin’s voice. “Death would have been quick but not quick enough.”
I glanced toward the window, trying to distract myself from the gruesome imagery. “Dr. Shaw said Ezra Kroll was shot to death in the woods. Apparently, there’s always been a question of whether or not it was suicide.”
“Nathan’s grandfather was still a cop when it happened. He had a theory that none of the deaths was suicide. He believed it was mass murder perpetrated to cover up a single homicide.”
I stared at Devlin in horror. “What could motivate a person to do such a thing?”
“Same motives I see every day. Jealousy, passion, greed.” Devlin’s expression hardened and I wondered if he was thinking about another crime of passion and greed, one that hit a little too close to home. “Ezra Kroll came back from the war a damaged man. He’d inherited the family fortune, but had no use for earthly possessions beyond what he needed to survive. He started giving all the money away to the needy while his relatives had to stand by helplessly and watch the coffers dwindle.”
“So one of them took matters into their own hands?” I could hardly imagine such a thing. Three dozen innocent people, including children, had lived in Kroll Colony.
“The colonists ate every meal together,” Devlin said. “It was a ritual. But on that day, Kroll missed the communal lunch. The police believed he left to meet someone who lived nearby. A woman.”
My thoughts raced suddenly. If the woman in the stereogram—my look-alike—had been involved with Ezra Kroll, maybe that explained why she’d followed me back from the other side. She couldn’t rest until justice was done. Like Robert Fremont, another ghost from my past, she needed a conduit to tie up her earthly loose ends.
A nurse came in just then to monitor my vitals. She shooed Devlin into the hallway, giving me a minute to reflect upon everything he’d told me as she pumped the blood-pressure cuff.
“Your heart rate is still a little elevated,” she said. “Try to relax. Best thing you can do right now is rest.”
“I’ll try.”
“Are you in pain? I can get you something to take the edge off if you need it.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Press the call button if you need me,” she said. “I’ll send your friend back in, but remember what I said. Rest.”
“I will. Thanks.”
She exited silently on rubber-soled shoes and Devlin returned a moment later. “I’ve been given my orders,” he said.
“Not to leave, I hope.”
He came back over to the bed. “No, but I think we should table our discussion about Kroll Colony. It’s a gruesome story and you don’t need more nightmares. When you’re released in the morning, you can show me everything you found in the cellar.”
“About that stereogram—”
“In the morning,” he insisted.
“You’re right. It’s better if you see it for yourself.” I took his hand to pull him down beside me on the bed. “But just one last thing. When you go see Owen Dowling, be discreet, okay? He’s probably done nothing wrong and I don’t want to worry or embarrass him because my imagination ran away with me in the emergency room.”
“Aren’t I always discreet?”
An innocent question, but the subtle shift in Devlin’s drawl made my blood surge. “Yes...I suppose you are...”
He leaned in, eyes as dark and sultry as a Charleston midnight. “What if I were to discreetly kiss you right now?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
I sighed. “You know that it is.”
“Good.” He leaned in, feathering his lips over mine in a fleeting caress that made me tingle. I tunneled my fingers through his thick hair, but when I would have pulled him to me for a deeper kiss, he held back, making me want him even more as he moved his mouth lightly against mine.
Trailing kisses across my cheek, he said in my ear, “When I find the man responsible for that bruise on your face, I’ll make him very, very sorry.”
I drew back in shock. “Don’t say that. I would hate to think of you doing anything rash or foolish on my account.”
“I’ll be neither rash nor foolish,” he promised. “But I will be thorough.”
All I could do was stare up at him. “Sometimes you frighten me.”
“Why?” His hand rested on my leg, and I wondered if he was even aware of what his touch did to me.
“I look into your eyes and I still see a stranger.”
This drew a scowl. “That’s ridiculous. You know me better than anyone ever has.”
“Do I?” Somehow I thought that honor still belonged to his dead wife.
“Yes,” he insisted. “And anyway, we’ve done too much talking for one night. You should try to sleep now.”
I sank back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, still troubled by his threat. “It’s too cold in here to sleep.”
He stretched out beside me on the narrow bed, tucking the covers around me as he pulled me against him. “Better?”
“Much.” I cushioned my head on his shoulder as we fell silent. Through the layers of his clothing I could feel the vibration of his heartbeat, strong and steady. His skin was warm now and I pressed closer, basking in the heat from his body.
“The last time we were in this hospital, our roles were reversed,” I said.
“I remember.” He tightened his arms around me. “I was told that you barely left my side the whole time I was unconscious.”
“I was afraid if I let go of your hand, you’d slip away from me. I wouldn’t be able to bring you back even with—” I broke off in midsentence as I realized what I’d been about to say. Even with Darius Goodwine’s magic.
After the shooting, Devlin had shown no sign of awakening from his coma so in desperation I’d reached out to his old nemesis. The powerful tagati had brought Devlin back to me, but not without a price, I feared.
“What were you about to say?” Devlin asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re trembling,” he said. “Should I get you another blanket?”
“Just hold me tighter.”
He complied, drawing me into his warmth. “Try to put it all out of your mind for now. You’re safe here with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”
His voice was so calming, his arms strong and reassuring. I nestled down in the covers and let the rhythm of his heartbeat lull me to sleep.
When I woke up, he was gone.
Eleven
The room was dark, but I could see a silhouette looming in front of the window. I caught my breath before I realized it was Devlin.
He stood very still, his face tilted skyward, moonlight bathing his features. The hush of the hospital heightened my senses. I could hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, even the distant ping of an elevator, but my attention remained riveted on Devlin. His presence filled the room, and I drew a long breath, drinking in that indefinable essence that belonged solely to him.
As I lay there studying his profile, a large form swooped down from the sky, casting a shadow across his face and into my room before vanishing into the night. I might have thought the fleeting image had been caused by the bump on my head except for the way Devlin took a half step back from the window.
“What was that?” I gasped.
He whirled in surprise, those gleaming eyes pinning me in the moonlight. “How long have you been awake?” He sounded taken aback, though whether from my alertness or that plunging shadow, I had no idea.
Ignoring his question, I pushed myself up on my elbows to scan the window behind him. “You must have seen it, too. It was huge.”
“Yes, I saw it,” he said with a shrug, but there was an unexpected roughness in his tone that his aristocratic drawl couldn’t disguise. “I only caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, but I’m sure it was an owl. Their wingspan is impressive, especially when you aren’t expecting to see one.”
“An owl? In the middle of the city?”
“It’s not unheard of,” he said. “Barn owls are fairly urbanized. They like to nest in church steeples. And we have plenty of those in Charleston.”
His tone had lightened, but neither his words nor his demeanor soothed me. I found something ominous about the way he’d been staring out into the darkness so intently. “Whatever it was flew right past the window. Close enough to cast a shadow over your face and into the room.”
Devlin said nothing, but instead moved toward the bed with his customary grace, his features an inscrutable mask. He looked perfectly poised, calm and unbent, but the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed a tightly coiled tension. Where moonlight slanted across his face, I could see a hint of trouble brewing in the furrows of his brow. I noticed the phone in his hand then. I hadn’t heard a ring or a vibration, much less a conversation, but something had obviously transpired to disturb him.
My gaze darted to the window, then back to Devlin. “Is everything okay?”
Normally, he was as adept as I at concealing his emotions, but I was picking up a weird vibe from him tonight.
“What is it?” I urged.
Another pause. “I have to go out for a while.”
“Is it a case?”
He hesitated for so long that I thought he didn’t want to answer, but then he said with a hint of dread, “It’s not a case. I’m told my grandfather has taken ill.”
I glanced at him in alarm. “I’m sorry. I hope it’s not serious.”
“He was in perfect health when we had dinner so I’m convinced he’s up to something. I just haven’t yet figured out his angle.”
“Are you so sure he has an angle? What if he really is sick?”
“That slim possibility is the only thing tearing me from this room tonight,” Devlin said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, but in the meantime I’ll see to it that security keeps a sharp eye out for anything or anyone suspicious.”
“Don’t worry about me. Whoever broke into my house is likely long gone. I’ll be fine.”
“Amelia...”
I waited expectantly. He wanted to tell me something. I could see it in the flare of his eyes.
I put an encouraging hand on his arm. “What is it?”
He leaned over and grazed his lips across my forehead. “I wouldn’t leave you if I wasn’t certain you’d be safe here.”
“I know that.”
“Get some rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”
A moment later, he was gone.
I wanted to call out to him, to tell him to be careful out there in the dark where dangers from this world and the next lay in wait.
Instead, I got up and padded over to the window to search the night sky. I still wasn’t convinced I’d seen an owl earlier. For most people a nocturnal bird would have been a perfectly acceptable explanation for that diving shadow, but I wasn’t most people. I knew things. Saw things. Heard things.
The past twenty-four hours had been full of strange happenings. I felt very off center. It was as if banging my head on the stairs had awakened something inside me, making me more attuned than ever to the unnatural world around me. And yet I suffered no other repercussions from the blow. I didn’t feel dizzy or disoriented. I hadn’t experienced any blurred vision or memory loss and even my headache had faded. I wanted to believe the visions and voices would disappear, too, once I left the hospital.
What was it the resident had told me earlier? It always gets crazy during a full moon. No kidding.
The moon wasn’t just full but ringed. When I was a little girl, before I knew about the ghosts, Papa would tell me stories about swamp witches and boo hags that traveled through the Carolina marshes by moonlight. I later wondered if those eerie tales had been his way of preparing me for what was to come. He used to say that a lunar halo signified a time when spirits were especially restless. A dangerous time when mirrors should be covered and babies hidden so as not to be replaced by changelings.
Maybe there had been something to that warning. If the phases of the moon could affect ocean tides and human behavior, what might they stir in creatures from the other side?
Wresting my gaze from that silvery sphere, I started to turn back to my bed when I happened to glance down at the street. It was misting and the pavement shimmered with an oily patina beneath the streetlamps. My room looked out on a busy thoroughfare, but there was very little traffic at this hour. Which might explain why my attention was drawn to a lone pedestrian across the street.
The person was small, but I didn’t get the sense that I was looking down at a child. Something dark and flowing was draped over the shoulders, making it nearly impossible to distinguish the silhouette among the other shadows. Indeed, for a moment I thought I might have attached human shape to a bush or tree trunk.
I told myself there was nothing at all sinister about someone being out and about at this hour. Perhaps the person was waiting for a bus. But I couldn’t dismiss the feeling that a gaze had been cast upon my room. Upon me.
The sensation was so intense that I took a step back; my heart beat a rapid tattoo. When I dared to glance out again, the figure had disappeared, leaving me to wonder if the shadow had been nothing more than my imagination.
I went back to bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. Sleep came with disturbing visions. I had no idea how long I’d been dreaming when my eyes popped open, senses fully alert. It would be dawn soon, a time I always anticipated, but I could still feel the pull of the dead world.
I saw the ghost then, hovering deep in the shadows. As if sensing my awareness, she drifted out of the gloom with outstretched arms and paused at the end of my bed to turn those dark-stained sockets upon me. It was the eeriest sensation, the way she stared down at me. Could she see me or did she merely sense me? Could she feel my warmth? Had she been drawn there by my energy?
She made no move toward me, to latch on to me, but instead levitated at the end of my bed for the longest moment as if making certain that I was awake. She had manifested in the same white lace dress from her previous visit, but now I saw that she clutched a key in one hand.
Before I had time to process this turn of events, she drifted through the closed door. Her message couldn’t have been plainer. She wanted me to follow.
There had been a time when trailing an entity would have been unthinkable, but the days of ignoring the other world were long behind me. The ghost knew that I could see her. She was already haunting me. Perhaps if I did as she wished, she would go away and leave me alone. Not likely, but it was the only thing I had at the moment to cling to.
Climbing out of bed, I crossed to the door and glanced into the corridor. The overhead lights sputtered from an electrical surge caused—I was certain—by the ghost’s energy. There was an elevator by the nurse’s station and another at the opposite end of the hallway large enough to transport gurneys from floor to floor. That elevator went all the way down to the basement level. I wasn’t sure how I knew this unless I’d subconsciously taken note of the buttons when I’d been brought up to my room.
The tiles were cold beneath my bare feet as I slipped down the hallway in the wake of the ghost. The moment I rounded a corner, out of sight of those behind me, the electrical fluctuations subsided. I entered the elevator, the doors closed and, as the car descended, the hushed voices from the morgue crept back into my head.
When the elevator stopped, I stepped out into a wide hallway with branching corridors on either side. In front of me was a set of double doors with narrow glass panels through which I could see into the receiving area of the morgue. A red sign marked the outside bay where bodies were delivered and picked up, and beyond a long counter were several closed doors, which I assumed were the autopsy rooms and coolers.
The ghost voices faded as an unnatural hush fell over the hallway. Time seemed to stop as I hovered between the dead world and the living world. The floating sensation was not at all unpleasant, but it lasted for only a heartbeat before the babbling in my head started up again, rising to a sharp, painful crescendo. The walls started to spin and I slid down the cool cinderblocks, curling myself in a ball as I clutched my ears.
Even in the grip of that debilitating vertigo, I could feel invisible hands reaching through the walls for me, diaphanous bodies squeezing in on me as I huddled on the floor breathless and trembling.
For a moment, I let myself entertain the possibility that all of this was nothing more than a terrible hallucination. A nightmare from which I would soon awaken.
But I knew better. It was real. It was happening. And in a moment of enlightenment, I realized why the blind entity had led me down to the basement. The voices were stronger in the morgue because the newly departed had somehow opened a door, allowing those trapped souls to reach out to me. Individual spirit communication was one thing, but this mass beseeching was a new development. Another terrifying facet to my dark gift.
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