I looked up and saw a shadow steal across his features a split second before he turned away. There was something disturbing in his eyes, a fleeting darkness that reminded me of legacies and expectations. Despite my unease, I didn’t pull away a few seconds later when he bent to kiss me, even though we were far from alone on the walkway. I sensed he needed the contact. Whatever his turmoil, I was his touchstone.
He didn’t kiss me, though. Instead, his head came up abruptly, his gaze going past me to scan the milling tourists on the walkway. Reluctantly, I glanced over my shoulder, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the crowd.
The air shifted as the sun hovered over the cityscape of steeples. The waning light brought a prickle to my scalp and I lifted my face to the wind as I detected a faint trace of ozone even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
I turned back to Devlin, my breath catching at the look on his face. I could sense the bristle of his every instinct. Wariness hardened his eyes and in the deeper depths, I saw a glimmer of dread.
When I would have tightened my hold on his arm, he moved away. The rejection seemed unconscious, but in that instant it hit me anew just how fragile our relationship had become. Despite everything we’d been through, despite moments of harmony and deep passion, Devlin and I were still breakable.
*
Long after he’d left my house to return to his grandfather in the hospital, I sat out on the porch, still warm from a shower and the afterglow of our lovemaking, and pondered the situation. Devlin was no longer haunted by ghosts, but something bedeviled him just the same. He’d been aware of something on the Battery. A scent? An aberrant presence? He would never admit it, of course, but I had often wondered if his refusal to acknowledge the supernatural was his way of keeping the demons at bay.
An image of Mariama sprang to mind and I shivered. For all I knew, she could still be lurking somewhere in the gray waiting for a chance to slip back through the veil. In which case, I should take care not to topple Devlin’s defenses.
Besides, I had my own otherworldly stalkers to worry about. Until I could decipher all the clues, neither would leave me alone. I wanted to believe their banishment was a simple matter of solving an old mystery—finishing earthly business—but deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Dealing with ghosts and in-betweens was never a straightforward proposition.
As twilight slanted down through the trees and the air filled with the dreamy scent of Confederate jasmine, I got up and went inside, turning on a lamp in the foyer to guide me through the house. The rooms hadn’t seemed so empty earlier, the hush quite so menacing in Devlin’s company. But now with the rosy flush of sunset melting into the violet horizon, I felt the weight of an all-too-familiar presentiment descend upon my shoulders.
Trying to ignore the unease, I made a cup of tea and carried it to my office where I stood for a moment, gazing out at the gathering darkness. Then, deliberately turning my back on the shadows, I sat down at my desk for an evening of research and speculation.
My thoughts once again turned to Rose. Given her appearance in the stereogram and the location of her burial, I had little doubt that she’d somehow been involved with Ezra Kroll. Had a romantic relationship been the catalyst for all those deaths?
Passion and jealousy were powerful motivations. As old as time itself. If Rose had been in love with Kroll and his life had been cut short because of their liaison, I could well understand why her ghost would need closure if not vengeance. I tried to put myself in her place. What would I do if Devlin were taken from me? How would I ever make peace with such a loss?
It was not a question I wanted to examine at length. But no matter how hard I tried to squelch my earlier anxiety, I couldn’t forget the ominous emotions I’d picked up from him as he’d scanned the crowd on the Battery. Or the way he’d snatched his hand away when I’d tried to trace that moon-shaped scar in his palm.
Hardening my resolve, I once again shoved aside those niggling doubts and buckled down to my work. I’d just found a new mention of Ezra Kroll in an obscure article about communes when a sound in the quiet house brought my head up with a jerk.
I sat very still, listening to the silence. When nothing came to me, I turned in my chair to scour the garden. Night had fallen in earnest while I worked. Stars twinkled through the treetops and I could see the faint shimmer of what might have been a ghostly face in the deepest corner of the garden. I watched for only a moment before averting my gaze.
Rotating back to the desk, I returned my attention to the laptop. But in the instant before my eyes dropped to the screen, I detected a flickering shadow just beyond the kitchen in the murky niche where the foyer light didn’t quite reach. I watched and waited, my stomach knotted in apprehension. Something was inside my house.