Books by Maggie Shayne (58 page)

Melissa pulled her VW Bug to a stop on the dark, narrow unpaved road and just sat there, staring at the house.

It was a monster. That was the word that whispered through her mind. It squatted there in the darkness, a red-rock monster, glaring at her from rectangular window-eyes. The grounds around the place hadn't been tended in a very long time. Gnarly trees and twisting vines, weeds and brush, grew in a tangled mess that was as good as a moat. All except for the narrow path that led to the massive wooden front door.

A light rain fell. She could easily imagine it was always raining on this place. She could almost see the black cloud over it, and she decided to leave her car on the road, rather than pulling it into the barely discernible tire tracks that passed for a driveway. She backed up a bit, then pulled forward, parking the car on the opposite shoulder. It was far enough off the road so no one would hit it as they passed, though she doubted she would encounter another vehicle on this stretch of cow path even if she stood here for a week.

Getting out of the car, she left it unlocked. For some reason, she didn't want to do anything that would delay her getting back in. She pocketed her keys and crossed the gravel road, stepping through the iron gate that stood hanging open, slightly crooked, shiny with wetness. As soon as she set foot on the path, a full body shudder racked her to a stop. Closing her eyes, clenching her fists, she sought calm.

She felt the Earth power rising up through her feet, softly glowing green. She felt the Sky power rinsing over her in the rain, a pulsing vibrant gold. The energies met in her center, swirling and growing until they filled her to bursting. She felt the power tingling in her fingers, burning in her toes. And then it grew still bigger, until it suffused her aura, surrounding her in a sphere of white light.

Better, she thought. Lifting her chin, she continued walking the path, less fearful now, more confident. She walked up the two stone steps, stood on the top one, and rapped the brass knocker that was clasped in the teeth of a gargoyle.

The rain came down a little harder. She didn't mind it in the least. Maybe it was rinsing away some of the negativity that clung to this place like a smog cloud over a large city. When there was no response to her summons, she knocked again. She glanced toward the side of the house, spotted the shiny reflection of Alex's Mercedes gleaming there in the rain. He was home.

She rapped again.

Eventually, footsteps approached and locks turned and the large door groaned open.

Alex stood on the other side, black jeans sinfully tight, black T-shirt showing every powerful muscle in his torso. He looked irritated, then surprised when he saw who stood on his stoop.

"Melissa?"

"Hello, Alex. We need to talk. Do you mind if I come in?"

He licked his lips as if nervous but stepped aside to let her in. Melissa stepped into the foyer and felt as if she'd stepped into a pool of pure blackness. It enveloped her, and she hugged her arms and shivered. She looked around the place, disliking it more and more. It was dim, unnaturally cool, cavernous, and hollow. And there were others there, though she couldn't see them. She could feel them, their eyes watching her.

"This way," Alex said. "We'll be more comfortable in the sitting room."

She followed him, but her infallible instincts were telling her not to. They were telling her to turn around and run. She ignored them, and she knew better. Her stomach felt queasy.

She and Alex crossed through a huge living room with a domed ceiling and a few pieces of furniture that looked antique. Almost Gothic. But they didn't stop there. Alex led her into a smaller room off the right side, where more contemporary furniture, overstuffed brown velour, and a glass-topped coffee table formed a horseshoe pattern around a marble fireplace. There was a fire in the hearth, and she welcomed the warmth, taking the chair nearest it.

Alex sat on the sofa. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked her.

She had been studying the flames, and she jumped when he spoke. "Is anyone else here?"

He shook his head. "No, we're alone. Why?"

She heard whispers, unintelligible but unmistakable. He didn't act as if he heard a thing. "I... I just had the feeling someone else was here."

"There's a housekeeper who keeps a room here but rarely uses it. Elizabeth was my father's nurse before he died, and she stayed on, keeping the place up until it could be sold. I couldn't see putting her out, so I kept her on. But she's off tonight."

Melissa nodded slowly. "This was your father's house."

He nodded.

"And he's passed the veil."

"Yeah."

She looked around the room. "I think he's still here." Her voice had dropped to a near whisper.

Alex glanced at her sharply, then smiled. "I like to think so."

She studied his face. "What kind of man was he, your father?"

"His name was Victor Moring. I don't know what he was like. I never met him."

She frowned, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. She licked her lips and followed her instincts. She reached across to where his hand rested on the arm of the sofa and closed hers around it. "Tell me," she whispered.

He narrowed his eyes on her. "Why?"

"I don't know. I just... I have the feeling it's important."

He hesitated a moment, staring at her hand on his. Finally, he sighed and gave a slight nod. "I was raised in an orphanage," he said, and he said it so matter-of-factly that she knew this was of deep importance to him. He was trying too hard to make it seem otherwise. "St. Luke's, in Boston. The nuns there didn't know who my parents were. I was left by a young woman one night, when I was barely a week old, with just a tiny wooden box that contained a note from my mother and a hunk of quartz. She told them my name was Quinn, but I'm certain that was a lie. When I was ten, and started asking questions about my family, the sisters gave the box to me and told me what little they knew, which was just what I've told you."

She blinked rapidly, tried to calm her suddenly racing heartbeat. "Can I see it?"

"What? The box?"

She nodded.

He blinked slowly, studying her face as if trying to read her. "Did you take my pent', when I kissed you earlier, Melissa?"

She looked down, feeling guilty as hell. "Yes. It's safe, I promise. I shouldn't have taken it, I just--"

"I want it back."

She nodded. "It's at my place. I never intended to keep it, just to cleanse it and bless it for you." He lifted his brows. "It's a Witch thing. We do it with all our important ritual tools." She attempted a smile that was probably weak. "It was... my gift to you."

His lips thinned, but he nodded and got to his feet. "Next time, ask first, okay?"

"I should have this time," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't."

"You're right, you should have." He turned for the door. "Stay here."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her, and he left the room. His footsteps soon vanished in the depths of the house. Melissa got up, pacing the room, brimming with nervous energy and tingling with apprehension. There was something in this house--something dark. She kept feeling as if someone was standing right at her back, only to spin around and see no one.

Finally, Alex returned. She was standing close to the fire by then, soaking up its heat, staring into its flames. She turned when he came into the room; then her breath hitched in her throat. For just an instant, she'd seen that other face, superimposed over his. The face of the man in her dream, who was like Alex but not Alex.

Then it faded.

"What's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I... nothing." She looked at the small wooden box he held. "Is that it?"

"Yeah." He held it out, and she took it from him, returned to her seat in the chair, and gently opened the lid.

A folded scrap of time-yellowed paper rested inside. She looked to Alex for permission, and when he nodded, she picked it up and noticed the glittering quartz crystal that rested underneath it. Unfolding the sheet carefully, Melissa read the note.

My dearest Alex,

Leaving you with the sisters is the hardest thing I have ever done. But my love for you is so strong that I know it is my only choice. I fear my life in this world will soon end--for the evil that pursues me draws closer every day. The best I can do for you is to put you as far from its reach as I can, in a place where I know you'll be safe. The only thing I ask of you, my son, is that you never attempt to find the man who fathered you--for I tell you from my heart, he is evil, and he will destroy you. Know that I will always be with you, watching over you, protecting you, and loving you.

Always,

Your mother, Jennifer

As she read the note, Melissa swore she could
hear
the words, spoken in a gentle, loving voice--the same voice she'd heard earlier tonight in her temple room. Blinking back tears, she refolded the note and set it in the box. As she did, her fingertips caressed the crystal and she felt a surge of warmth suffusing her hand and arm.

Her chest felt tight, her heart full, as she closed the lid.

Then she frowned, holding the box in her hands. "There was something else?"

Alex seemed startled. "Yes. How did you know?"

She only shrugged.

"Three months ago, I somehow left my bedroom window open--not here, I was living closer to LA then. It stormed that day, and a gust must have swept through. When I got home, the bedroom was wet, and things were scattered everywhere. The box had been blown off its shelf, to the floor. When it hit, a little compartment in the bottom popped open. There was a card inside."

"Your father's?" she asked.

He nodded. "By then, I'd been trying to trace my roots for years. I'd managed to learn his last name, Moring, but nothing else. The address was for this house, and when I came here, there was a real-estate sign on the lawn. Elizabeth was still here. She told me my father had passed only a few months prior. But all of his things were still here as well. And the place was for sale."

"So you bought it."

"Of course I bought it." He sighed, shaking his head. "To think I'd been in LA for so long and he was so close all that time. But I only found him after he'd died. Elizabeth said he always knew I'd come back someday. She said he'd have wanted me to have the house." He searched the depths of the fire; for what, she couldn't have said. "I thought, by being here, going through his things, I could finally get to know my father."

"And have you?"

He snapped his gaze to hers. "I don't know. He... he left diaries--but the entries are always addressed 'Dear Alex,' as if he was writing them to me, knowing I'd find them and read them someday. And they're full of..." He stopped there, as if afraid he would reveal too much. "He was either the most powerful sorcerer I could have imagined, or he was completely insane."

She nodded slowly. "And that's why you've had all the questions about the dark side of magic."

He started to nod, but stopped halfway. "Not that I think what he practiced was black magic. Just that it--it doesn't quite mesh with the fluffy white lighter stuff you find in all the books meant for public consumption."

She drew a breath, lifted her chin. "Would you be willing to let me see them?"

His head came up fast, and again, the face of that "other" seemed to hover over his own. "No!" The word blasted from his lips in a voice like thunder, and it hit her with a force that was palpable. A force she felt might have physically harmed her, had she not taken the time to shield herself before entering this place. The air in the room turned to ice, even as she shot to her feet and backed toward the door.

Alex blinked twice, frowning as if confused. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout."

She held up a hand, shook her head, tried to form words to excuse herself, but gave up. Instead she simply turned and ran. She didn't look back until she was in her car, heading away from that place.

And when she did, she saw Alex, standing in the middle of the narrow road, staring after her.

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Alex was shaking all over, couldn't seem to stop it. Hell. What in God's name had just happened to him? And how was he going to explain it to Melissa when he didn't understand it himself?

He was sweating, he realized as he ran a palm across his forehead. A cold sweat. More dampness gathered on his skin from the soft, mistlike rain that fell, and he shivered. He walked back into the house.

It's just as well. She's a Witch, and she'll ruin everything. Stay away from her from now on.

Alex frowned at the foreign voice in his mind. It wasn't his own. It wasn't his inner self expressing nervousness over the sheer power of what he felt for Melissa. Everything in him was screaming just the opposite.

"I don't want to stay away from her," he whispered. "I think... I think I need her." He sighed, lowering his head. It was true. He sensed it right to his soul. He needed her. He didn't know why or how or exactly what it was he needed
from
her.

The truth was, he was burning to tell her everything--everything that had happened to turn his life upside down. He had been, ever since he'd first set eyes on her. In that moment when he'd opened the door to find her standing there, it felt as if he'd been lost in the desert and finally caught sight of water. Cool, clear, life-giving water. Something inside her seemed to speak to something inside him. And just being near her felt... soothing. Healing. When she had walked into this godforsaken tomb of a house, he swore he could almost feel a fresh, cool breeze rushing in, blasting away the cobwebs and dust and darkness.

Absently he rubbed his hand where hers had closed around it. He wanted to touch her again.

No!

Mustering his will--and God, it was an effort--he ignored the voice in his head and walked back outside, pulling his car keys out of his pocket as he did. He had to go after her.