Fourteen

The library smelled of dust, leather and old books, a scent that had comforted me since childhood. I paused just inside the door as I waited for Thane to turn on the light. Directly across the room, French doors opened into a garden, and I found myself searching for a pale face among the silhouettes of statues and topiary, even though I had no evidence that Asher House was possessed. Ghosts were drawn to people, not places. Entities craved the warmth and energy emanated by a living being, not the cold memories of a dying house. But if I’d learned anything during my brief time with a haunted man, it was that ghosts were no more predictable than humans.

The light came on, and I glanced around curiously. No specters, but plenty of shadows. And spiders, I thought with a shiver, my gaze lifting to the glimmering cobwebs hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

The space was large—cavernous, by my standards—but still seemed overly crowded with massive bookcases carved out of oak, and heavy furniture upholstered in distressed leather. There was a desk in the center of the room, a huge affair that rose on claw feet to face the fireplace. Several old hatboxes had been stacked at one end, and a brass reading lamp occupied the other. As my gaze slowly traveled the room, I saw globes, maps and a gigantic painting over the mantel of a proud and pampered bluetick coonhound. I crossed to the fireplace to have a closer look.

Thane came up behind me. “That’s Samson.”

“He’s beautiful,” I said, admiring the mottled coat.

“Was. He’s no longer with us.”

“Oh…I’m sorry. Was he your dog?”

“Grandfather’s.” He moved up beside me, his gaze still on the painting. “They were quite a pair. Samson was never far from Grandfather’s side. He was like a shadow. And then one day he up and disappeared.”

“Your grandfather must have been heartbroken.”

“Heartbroken?” He frowned. “I don’t know about that. But he was certainly livid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.”

“Angry with whom?”

“With me.” He glanced away but not before I saw the dart of warring emotions, the remnant of an old shame. “It was my fault.”

A chill feathered along my spine at that look on his face. I told myself to leave it alone, but, of course, I didn’t. “What happened?”

The green eyes darkened under a furrowed brow. “I took the dog into the woods one day without Grandfather’s permission. It was right after I first came here. I suppose he told you about that?”

“About the dog?” I deliberately misunderstood.

“No. About how I came to live with him.”

“He mentioned that your mother died when you were young.” I had no intention of telling him everything his grandfather had revealed to me about his past. It was just too awkward.

But he knew. I could hear a trace of bitterness in his voice despite the ghost of a smile. “You’re very diplomatic. I’m sure he gave you an earful. He makes no bones about the fact that I’m an Asher in name only.”

I remembered his grandfather’s insistence that blood and land were the strongest ties, and I wondered how many times Thane had been made to feel an outsider by that outdated sentiment. For some reason, I felt the need to reassure him. “He spoke very highly of you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did.” He glanced back up at the painting, but the air between us was charged with something unpleasant. Obviously, his place in this household was a thorn that still pierced deeply. I could understand that feeling of displacement. I’d come to my parents as a baby, and even though I always knew they loved me, I’d sensed a detachment, a wall that I never quite managed to scale. The only place I ever felt truly at home was the cemetery. My graveyard kingdom.

I could feel Thane’s gaze on me. When I turned, he gave me a speculative smile, as though wondering where my mind had drifted. “Anyway, we were talking about Samson.”

“Yes.” I didn’t know why I suddenly felt breathless. He had a way of looking at me that, despite my own walls, made me feel vulnerable and a little self-conscious.

“We’d gone pretty far into the woods that day. He caught a scent and just took off. I called and called, but he wouldn’t come. He vanished and I never even heard a sound. I walked those trails for days and didn’t find anything more than a few drops of blood.”

“Samson’s blood?”

He shrugged. “We’ll never know. But if he was attacked, I can only assume it was something large enough to drag the body off without leaving a trace.”

I thought of the scars on Wayne Van Zandt’s face and that eerie howl I’d heard in the woods earlier. And suddenly I was very glad that I’d left Angus on the back porch. “Is it possible someone took him?”

“I’ve always wanted to believe that. Samson was a purebred, highly coveted in these parts. Someone could have taken him, but without making a sound? I don’t know…” He bent to light a fire. The kindling caught, and the flames began to crackle. I put out a hand, but the flickering warmth did little to chase away the chill of his words.

He straightened. “We should probably get started,” he said briskly.

“Yes. It’s getting late and I really do have to get up early.”

“The crack of dawn, I believe you said.”

I was glad to hear a more lighthearted tone in his voice. “When you work outside in the South, you learn to beat the heat. Although the weather these days is perfect.”

“You have a hard job,” he said. “You don’t hire help?”

“Sometimes, if the cemetery and the budget are large enough. But I don’t mind doing the work myself.” I glanced down at my calloused hands. “I’m particular about the way things are done. People tend to get a little slapdash if they don’t know what they’re doing or haven’t a vested interest. Breaks my heart to see a hundred-year-old rosebush chopped down out of carelessness.”

He searched my face. “You’re not afraid to be alone in a cemetery after what happened?”

He was still curious about Oak Grove. I couldn’t blame him. It was a bizarre story. The discovery of an underground torture chamber beneath an old city cemetery had caused quite a sensation in Charleston. The notoriety eventually died down, but last spring, after it first happened, I couldn’t leave my house without being accosted by a reporter. I wondered now if I’d come to Luna’s attention through the news.

“I always take precautions. Besides, once I’m immersed in a restoration, I forget about everything else. It’s very therapeutic.”

“You’re brave,” he said, and there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before. “I admire that.”

I tried to laugh off the compliment. “I’m not so brave. Just prepared.”

“Even better. Brave and sensible.”

I was reminded of something Devlin had once said to me. Strange and practical, he’d called me as we walked through the killer’s tunnels.

Devlin.

I didn’t want to think about him just now or of that night in his house when our passion had opened a terrible door. When the Others, drawn by our heat, had crept through the veil, and I’d had to face the nightmarish reality of our union. I’d seen firsthand the consequences of associating with a haunted man, and now there was no going back. No closing that door.

I drew a breath and turned away. I couldn’t deny that I was drawn to Thane, maybe because I sensed something in him that I recognized in myself—that feeling of not belonging.

Before tonight, I hadn’t known much about him beyond that charming smile and those beguiling green eyes. I wished for that ignorance back. He was a little too real to me now. A little too appealing for someone who needed to forget.

“Where should we start?” I asked awkwardly, looking everywhere but into those eyes. “You mentioned old photographs. And maybe a site map?”

“About that.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I probably should have warned you…it’s going to take some digging to find that stuff. Everything was moved up to the attic years ago. I brought down a bunch of boxes earlier so we’ll just have to go through all of them until we find what you need.”

“The attic?” There was a note of horror in my voice. “Even the photographs?”

His nod was grim. “I know. A lot of them have historical significance so it’s a shame they haven’t been properly stored or cataloged. I’ve always meant to get around to it, but never found the time or patience.”

Said the man who’d once led me to believe he had nothing but time on his hands.

“I can see how it would be a daunting task,” I murmured, but I would have relished such a project. Photography was a hobby of mine and old photographs, a passion. As a child, my favorite pastime on rainy days was going through the family albums. Even though I’d always known of my adoption, I’d spent hours searching through those pictures in hopes of finding someone who looked like me.

We walked over to the desk, and Thane blew a cloud of dust from one of the hatboxes before lifting the lid. I tried to hide my dismay at the jumble of photographs inside, so many of them faded and creased from age and careless handling. I shouldn’t have been shocked by the condition. The whole house was a testament to neglect.

“Have a seat.” Thane motioned to the chair behind the desk while he perched on the corner. He handed me one of the boxes and took another for himself.

“So…did you go to school in Asher Falls?” I asked as I began to sift through the photographs.

He looked up in surprise. “For a while. Why?”

“No reason. I drove by the school the other day with Ivy and Sidra. It seems a little odd that a town this size has a private academy but no public school.”

“It’s really not that odd. Asher Falls had a public school years ago. When enrollment dropped, they consolidated with Woodberry.”

“Didn’t the enrollment drop at the private school, as well?”

“No, because Pathway is also a boarding school. Kids from all over attend.”

“What’s Pathway like?”

“Like any school, I guess.” But there was something in his voice that made me wonder. “It’s a prep school, really. If you can find a way to fit in there, you can adapt to places like Emerson.”

My head came up. “Emerson University in Charleston? You went there?”

He looked bemused. “Yes. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s just… I knew someone else who went there.”

“Oh?”

“Actually, I’ve known a few people who attended Emerson. A friend of mine used to be a professor there…Rupert Shaw. But he was probably before your time.”

“The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“Nowadays, he runs the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies.”

“Parapsychology? As in paranormal goings-on?” His eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “Don’t tell me you had a ghost problem.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” I smiled benignly before bowing my head to my work.

We fell silent after that, and I was soon so absorbed in the photographs that I barely noticed when Thane got up to stretch. The parade of Ashers enthralled me. I found the faces so intriguing…the nearly identical shape of their noses, the same jaw and chin line. But the familiarity of those features also unsettled, like the nag of a restive memory. Then it came to me. The circle of statues in the cemetery—all those angelic faces—had been sculpted in the likeness of long-dead Ashers. Thane had been right. Apparently, the family was very good at erecting handsome monuments to the collective ego.

He hadn’t returned to his place, but instead ambled over to the fireplace to gaze pensively into the flames. It was awkwardly apparent that he’d already grown bored with the project—bored with me, perhaps—so I decided it was time to call it a night. We’d barely made a dent in the boxes, but I didn’t want to outstay my welcome, and Angus would need to go out soon, anyway.

I was just sorting through one last batch when I happened upon a photograph that reminded me of the one hanging in Luna’s office—a teenage Bryn, Catrice and Luna smiling dreamily into the camera. A young man stood with them in this shot. An Asher, judging by his features, but he wasn’t handsome enough to be Hugh. And just like in the other picture, a fourth girl hovered in the background. Even though she was hidden by shadows, she seemed more substantial here, making me wonder if she’d still been alive when this picture was taken.

Ghost or human, I had a visceral reaction to her. As I gazed down into her face, a tremor coursed through me, an almost electrical vibration that jolted a memory. It was as if a shutter had clicked, and in place of this image, another came into focus. The ghost on the pier. It was her. It was the same girl.

I dropped the picture like a hot coal. There was something truly creepy and maybe a little sinister about the way she skulked about in the shadows. About the way she glared into the lens, as if staring straight through the camera, straight through time and space at me.

Thane must have seen something on my face because he came over to see what I’d found. “Oh, look there,” he said as he gazed down at the picture. “The Witches of Eastwick. Or I should say Asher Falls.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Haven’t you noticed a certain…eccentricity about those three?”

Those three. Could he not see the fourth girl? “Sidra said they used to be into some sort of mysticism, hence her celestial name. I guess they still are, judging by the conversation at dinner.” I glanced up at him.

He didn’t react. He was still frowning down at the picture.

“Who’s the young man?” I asked.

“My stepfather, Edward,” he said absently as he picked up the image. “Did you see the girl in the background?”

Cold fingers danced along my spine. “Do you know who she is?”

“She looks familiar, but I can’t seem to place her.” His voice had an almost trancelike quality. “I’ve seen this picture somewhere before, I think.”

“Luna has a similar one hanging in her office. Maybe you’ve seen it.” I held my breath, waiting to find out if he’d been able to see the ghost captured in Luna’s photograph.

“I’ve never been in her office, so that can’t be it.” His face suddenly cleared. “I’ve got it, though. It was a picture I found stuck in a book after my mother died.” He shivered, as though seized by a violent chill. “Whoa. It’s weird how vividly that came back to me just now. I’ve never given it a second thought before tonight.”

“This girl was in it?” I asked more anxiously than I meant to.

“In the background, just the way she is here. I don’t even know why I remember her so well. She’s not exactly beautiful, is she? But there’s something mesmerizing about her. I think it’s the eyes. It’s like she’s looking right at you…” He trailed off, then seemed to shake himself. “Anyway, I remember something else odd about that picture. It had been ripped apart and painstakingly taped back together. When I showed it to Edward, he turned completely white, like he’d been confronted with a ghost almost. He said she was just a girl he’d known a long time ago, before he met my mother. But considering his reaction, I think she must have been a good deal more than a casual friend. And later, when he thought I’d gone to bed, I saw him in his study staring at that picture.”

“He never said who she was?”

“No, but there was a name scribbled on the back. Freya.” He pronounced it Free-a.

Freya. I said the name to myself, and those icy fingers skated along my spine again.

“It wasn’t until I came here to live that I actually heard the name,” he said. “Tilly Pattershaw had a daughter name Freya.”

“Had?”

“She died years ago. Probably not long after this photo was taken.” He placed it carefully, almost reverently on the desk.

I thought again of that ghost on the pier, of that curious telepathy I’d felt in her presence. And now here she was, turning up in old photographs, almost as if my very presence had conjured her. “What happened to her?”

Thane shrugged. “A fire, I think. No one ever wanted to talk much about her.”

A shudder of dread went through me, though I had no idea why Freya Pattershaw’s fate should affect me so strongly. “Why does Bryn think Tilly is mentally unstable?”

Thane looked annoyed. “She’s exaggerating. Tilly’s a little strange, but she’s not dangerous. I wouldn’t have suggested she help you out in the cemetery if I thought otherwise.”

“Do you really think she’d be interested in a job?”

“Couldn’t hurt to ask. But I don’t think we should mention Freya. Tilly’s a tough old gal—she’s had to be—but there’s also something fragile about her.”

I looked up, surprised at the protective note in his voice. “I wouldn’t do that.”

But I had so many questions, and I knew I wouldn’t rest until I found answers. I still couldn’t shake the troubling premonition that I’d been brought here for a reason. Everything that had happened, all these strange events, were somehow connected to my arrival in Asher Falls.

“She doesn’t have much use for strangers,” Thane was saying. “It might be best if I go with you to see her. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

I gave a noncommittal nod. “Thanks. But right now, I think it’s time for me to be getting home.” I pushed up from the desk. “Do you want me to help you put everything away?”

“Just leave it. No one ever comes in here, and like Grandfather, I’m hoping you’ll come back.”

My smile was also noncommittal.

We went into the foyer where the maid waited by the door with my bag. Thane walked me outside. The night was clear and very, very still, the forest a looming darkness all around us. But where the tree line was broken at the bottom of the hill, I could see the faint glimmer of moonlight on Bell Lake, so lovely and serene from this distance. Not even a ripple betrayed the stir of restless souls beneath. I shivered, thinking of that rising mist, and pulled my sweater around me as I drew in the crisp, pine-scented air.

Thane took my arm as we walked down the drive, and I was surprised to feel my pulse jump at his touch. When we reached my car, I turned to say good-night, but the words died on my lips. He was staring down at me, eyes glistening like tidal pools in the moonlight. I could see the curve of his lips, too, and the thick shadow of his lashes. We were standing very close, and I fancied I could hear the drum of his heart, though I knew that was only my imagination.

He wanted to kiss me. I could sense his desire as surely as I felt the night air on my face, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I wasn’t ready for anything more than a friendship.

As we stood in that loaded silence, my gaze moved past him and lifted. I could just make out a silhouette on one of the upper balconies. Not a ghost this time, but Pell Asher staring down at us.

Uneasy, I tore my gaze from that shadow.

“I should be going—”

Before I could protest, Thane bent and brushed his lips against mine. I didn’t respond or reject, but my eyelids fluttered closed, and the nervous excitement that quivered in my stomach was more than a little disconcerting. I didn’t want this, and yet I didn’t not want it enough to pull away.

But Thane had picked up on my reluctance, and he broke the kiss, putting a hand briefly to my face. “Soon,” he promised, and I nodded vaguely even though I had no idea what he meant.

As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him at the top of the drive, illuminated by starlight. He stood there seeing me off, and as I felt an ever-so-slight quickening of my heartbeat, two things occurred to me. Despite his guilt over Harper’s death, he had no ghost.

And secondly, I hadn’t thought of Devlin at all when Thane kissed me.

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