Because You're Mine(41)
“I see. We usually think of possession as by a demon. Maybe your friend told you some things and you’re remembering them now. It sounds like you were close?” The man’s voice was kind.
Jesse grabbed onto the idea, which would be much better than being possessed by Liam’s spirit. “I’m sure my shrink would be saying the same thing.”
“Why are you seeing a psychiatrist?”
Jesse told him about the amnesia. “And I had some depression before the explosion.”
“Have you told your doctor about this idea that you’re possessed?”
Jesse shook his head. “He’d lock me up.”
“But you’re still convinced it’s the truth?”
Was he? His earlier certainty faded when he stared into the other man’s calm eyes. “I suppose it’s possible Liam told me some things and I’m starting to remember.” He shook his head. “Some of the things I’m remembering are feelings. How can that be? Maybe I’m just possessed by the love he had for . . . someone. Maybe his love survived death. Is that possible?”
“Love is the greatest of all commandments. That shows the importance God puts on love. Love transcends eternity.”
“Could Liam’s love have imprinted itself on me in the moment of his death?”
The priest shrugged. “Some mysteries are beyond us.”
The guy wasn’t much help. Jesse rose. “Thanks for your help.” Or lack of it. He walked across the street to his car. The priest was right about one thing. This whole situation was a mystery.
In the darkness, pain radiated up Alanna’s legs and arms. Muscles began to protest. She should have taken a Tylenol before coming up. The pills were still downstairs on the coffee table. Barry would be quick to run and get one for her, but she didn’t want to disturb him when he’d likely nodded off already.
Stifling a groan, she slipped from under the sheet and went to the door. The door creaked when she eased it open, and she listened to make sure she hadn’t disturbed Barry. The silent hallway assured her she was alone. Sliding her bare feet across the wood floor, she slinked down the steps, found her pills, and carried them back upstairs with a glass of water. When she reached the top of the steps, she heard something. The tinkling sound could almost be music. She put the water and pills on her dresser, then followed the music. The melody drew her down the long expanse of blackness, though she trailed her fingers along the wall in search of a switch.
The twisting corridors reminded her of a maze. In the darkness, she lost track of which way she went and how to get back, but the melody still drew her on. Maybe it was a music box? She couldn’t determine what made the noise. No one should be in these rooms. She, Barry, and Grady occupied the bedrooms closest to the stairs. Her bare feet trod debris on the floor, and she wondered if she’d made a bad turn. At least Barry’s parents were in a totally different wing on the opposite side of the house.
Her hand finally touched a light switch and she flipped it on. Weak light from a bare bulb in the ceiling illuminated a hallway that hadn’t seen a paintbrush or a mop in years. Wallpaper hung in strips and revealed old milk paint on the plaster walls. Scratches scarred the wood floors. Maybe this had been the servants’ quarters. The paper wasn’t the expensive sort she’d seen downstairs.
She glanced back the way she’d come. Three hallways branched off this one. She would have difficulty in finding her way back. The melody had stopped. All the doors were shut tight but one, and it opened only a crack. She pushed on it and flipped on the light. A bare iron bedstead and a stand were the only pieces of furniture in the room. A music box sat on the stand.
She approached the handsome wooden box and raised the lid. Goose bumps rose on her arms when the melody she remembered from her childhood tinkled out. When she’d hummed the tune to Liam, he had set it to words in “Nightsong.”
Transfixed, she listened to the music box tinkle. The only one she’d ever seen like it had belonged to Neila. This one was a twin to her sister’s prized possession. Alanna had to have this box.
She closed the lid and lifted the heavy box reverently. Turning to carry it back to her room, she saw someone move by the window. She gasped and peered into the draperies’ folds. “Is someone there?”
“Just me.” Grady materialized from the shadows. “I was watching the moon on the lagoon. I thought you’d be in bed.” His normally cynical smile held sadness. “Beautiful box, isn’t it? I hope you weren’t about to take it.”
“Just to my room so I could enjoy it. Isn’t that all right?”
“Barry will just carry it back here. The banshee doesn’t like it to be moved. I heard her playing it tonight and came to see. Did you hear it too?”
“I heard something,” she admitted. “That wasn’t you playing it?”
He shook his head. “The box was open when I got here. I hoped to see her dancing around.”
Alanna didn’t know what to think though her goose bumps returned. “You’ve seen her?”
“Several times,” he said, his tone grudging.
Back home in Ireland, she’d heard tales. Most who saw a banshee never lived to tell the story. A banshee was said to be a fairy, and to hear one shriek was an omen of death to one of Ireland’s five major families. She’d heard tell that banshees emigrated with their families. Was Barry’s family rooted to one of the five?