The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)(76)

I gazed back at him in shock. I’d smelled Papa’s witch hazel, but the entity had manifested Devlin’s daughter’s favorite flower to entice him. It could use any scent. Invade any space in search of a conduit through which it could work its evil.

“We both know it was there,” I whispered.

Devlin took my arm. “Come back inside. I want to show you something.”

Reluctantly, I let him lead me back through the door and then I watched anxiously as he moved around the bed to turn off the lamp. Darkness and claustrophobia enveloped me and I had to fight the urge to flee back outside to the porch.

“Look at the wall over the bed,” Devlin instructed.

I didn’t want to. I wanted to squeeze my eyes closed so that, like my great-grandmother before me, I could unsee the unspeakable.

“Do you see it?” he asked and I shifted my focus to the space above the headboard. Something moved on the wall. My pulse jumped before I realized it was the silhouette of a tree branch thrashing in the breeze.

“That doesn’t explain the look I saw on your face,” I said. “You were frightened.”

“I was alarmed,” he said. “And with good reason. Someone stood outside that window looking in on us. Whoever it was cast a shadow on the wall, and the wind in the tree branches created an illusion of movement.”

I almost wished I could buy the explanation of a Peeping Tom. The notion of Micah Durant or anyone else spying on us made me ill, but the alternative was far more distressing. “That still doesn’t explain the look I saw on your face,” I said stubbornly. Or the reflection I’d glimpsed in his eyes.

He turned on the light. “I admit, I let my imagination get the better of me for a moment.”

“What about my imagination? Do you think we conjured the exact same thing at the exact same time? How do you explain our simultaneous reaction?” I’d been hovering just inside the door but now I took a tentative step toward him. “Besides, you’re not the type to let your imagination get the better of you.”

“Normally, no. But all this business with my grandfather must be taking more of a toll than I realized.”

I gazed across the bed at him. “What business?” I asked carefully.

“All the fantasies he’s cooked up. For a moment, I let myself get dragged into his delusions.” His voice was so calm and measured he almost had me convinced.

“You really think all you saw was a shadow?”

“I do.” He walked around the bed and put his arms around me. “Whatever either of us saw or felt, it’s over. Nothing else is going to happen tonight.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said uneasily.

He brushed his fingers through my hair and I couldn’t help shivering. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. If it’ll make you feel better, we can leave the light on for the rest night.” He was teasing me now, but when I pulled back to search beyond his coaxing smile, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes that I knew was dread.





Forty-Four

Devlin was already up the next morning when I roused. I hadn’t closed my eyes until just before daylight and when I finally did doze off, my dreams were dark and disjointed. Like Rose’s puzzle, I couldn’t make sense of them, but an overwhelming feeling of loss plagued me, so much so that I awakened once with tears on my face.

Even curled in Devlin’s arms, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I lay fully dressed on top of the covers and listened to the distant rumble of thunder as a feeling of doom descended. It wasn’t just the insidious nature of the malcontent or the persistent chatter of all those ghostly voices in my head that tormented me. Something was wrong between Devlin and me.

The growing gulf had troubled me for weeks and now the memory I’d slipped into earlier only solidified my doubts. I didn’t know why or how, but I sensed our relationship had reached a turning point—perhaps the crossroads that Dr. Shaw had warned me about. I wanted to believe that eventually all would be well, but I had a bad feeling that rather than uniting us, our shared encounter had changed things in ways I couldn’t yet understand.

A part of me wanted nothing more than to rush back to Charleston and put the incident behind me. Distance myself as quickly as I could from the manipulations of a malicious entity. But that wouldn’t end the hauntings. The ghosts would follow me wherever I went, harassing me night and day until I found a way to release them. I was as trapped as they, and the sooner I returned to Kroll Cemetery, the sooner I could solve Rose’s puzzle and be free of them.

The urgency to act drove me out to the porch, where I found Devlin staring out at the garden.

“Good morning,” he said easily. “Did you finally manage to get some sleep?”

“A little.” I went over to stand beside him at the railing. “Did you?”

“Enough.” He lifted his hand so that I could see the twig he held between his fingers. “I found this on the porch when I came out.”

I took the stem so that I could examine the attached cicada shell. I thought at first it was the same one that had been left on my bedside table. But when I held the husk up to the light, the amber glow was muted because something remained inside. The casing had failed to open all the way so that the winged nymph had become trapped. Half in, half out.