Your Magic Touch (10 page)

“Should we go see if the others have found anything?”

“That would probably be best,” he said, then signaled for her to turn around and lead them back the way they’d come.

When she reached the first hallway crossing the one they were on, she paused. “I’m not sure which way we came from.”

“Hmm,” he said, sounding even less sure of the right direction than she was. “I think it’s to the left here.”

Frannie turned left, but she couldn’t tell if they were going the right way or not. “Are you sure?”

“The dark spot on the wall up ahead looks familiar,” he said.

Frannie looked in the direction he indicated and saw the dark spot. It looked a lot like—blood. Frightening images of murder and mayhem played through her thoughts.

Fighting for mental control, she studied their surroundings. She didn’t remember seeing the dark spot before. But what did she know? She hadn’t been paying close attention to where they’d been heading or where they’d come from.

After walking in that direction for a while, she came to another crossway. Her stomach dipped. “Which way now?”

Thomas joined her, spinning first left and then right and then left again.

Anxiety gnawed at her insides. He didn’t have any more clue than she had.

Abruptly, a strong gust of wind blew down the hallway, stirring debris and decades of dust. She threw up a hand over her eyes, hoping to avoid the sting of the dirt and cobwebs swirling around them.

When the wind died down, she lowered her hand, only to find the light in the hallway had gone out.

“Thomas?”

No answer.

If she’d fought for control before, now she totally lost it. Panic had her firmly in its grip. She wanted to scream. “Thomas, are you there?”

Again, no response.

She was long past panic. Now she was terrified. “Don’t screw around with me, dude. Where are you?”

She didn’t hear a sound other than that of her own freaked-out breathing.

She wanted to run, but knew that would do more harm than good.

Calm down. Calm down.

Fate must have it in for her. Just as she’d promised herself she was too smart to be, she was alone in the basement. In the dark.

She threw her hands in the air. “Why me? Why now?”

No way she’d be one of those too-stupid-to-live helpless heroines from gothic novels or horror movies.  It was time for self-control, not terror. With the discipline garnered from years of trying to fit in, she deliberately slowed her breathing and regained her composure.

Reaching out a hand to steady herself against the stucco wall, she thrust her free hand into her pocket and removed her cell phone. She was alone, but that didn’t mean she had to remain in the dark. She clicked on an app on her phone, producing a bright beam that illuminated the hallway even more brightly than the overhead lighting had done.

Now all she had to do was find her way out of this dungeon.  The staircase they’d descended had been near the north end of the mansion.  Another click on her cell pulled up a compass.

Short minutes later she heard the sound of someone approaching. A man’s voice called, “Frannie.”

“I’m here,” she cried out. Although she didn’t recognize the voice, she continued in his direction.

Finally, a man’s silhouette came into view and her heart beat faster. Was it Sinclair? As they approached each other, she made out the features of Sinclair’s cousin, Harrison. Disappointment almost smothered her relief that she was no longer alone.

“I’m here to rescue you,” Harrison said.

Frannie frowned. “Does it look like I need rescuing?”

“The ghost hunters asked me to look for you.”

“Are you sure they weren’t trying to get you lost, too?”

“Me? I know these cellars like the back of my hand. Used to spend hours playing hide and seek down here with Sinclair.”

The last time she’d seen Harrison, he’d been headed to the dining room to talk with Sinclair. Curiosity got the best of her. “So, when you talked, did Sinclair ream you out for playing practical jokes?”

Harrison shrugged. “Sinclair suggested it would be a good idea for me to stay out of trouble. Not only am I staying out of trouble, I’m helping troubled reporters. Rescuing a damsel in distress qualifies, don’t you think?”

“I’m so not a damsel, and I’m definitely not in distress.”

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“I almost found myself.”

“The exit is this way.” Harrison turned and gestured toward the hallway behind him, just as the dim overhead lighting came back on.

“Did you turn the lights on?”

“It wasn’t me.”

She turned off the app on her cell and stalked in the direction he’d indicated. It didn’t take long to reach the stairs and climb them. At the top, Frannie twisted the door knob. The door didn’t budge. She groaned.

What was it with her and the door knobs at Haliday Hall? Did they all have it in for her?

Maury and the other wizards
stood in the hallway between the dining room and the door to the basement, trying to work out the proper soul-mate logistics. Had they been wrong about matchmaking between Frannie and Sinclair? Was her love match actually Harrison Haliday?

They would soon find out because they’d sent Harrison to rescue her. One wave of a magic wand, and the twosome had been locked together in the basement.

Maury wasn’t convinced. “I still believe Sinclair is her love match.”

“Then how do you explain the fact that Harrison had her pen?” demanded Thomas. “Maybe the Love Dove led us to Harrison. Just because we didn’t know he was in the same household doesn’t change anything.”

“The Love Dove led us to Sinclair,” Maury insisted. “I don’t care if Harrison had Frannie’s pen.”

“We were wrong thinking it was Sinclair,” said Willie Jo. “And that is that. Frannie belongs with Harrison.”

His tone brooked no argument on the matter, so Maury held his tongue. The chemistry between Sinclair and Frannie was strong, and Maury felt sure they were each other’s match. Frannie didn’t light up when she was around Harrison the way she did around Sinclair.

But they had to be on the safe side. Locking Harrison and Frannie in the basement together would solve the dilemma. Either they’d emerge totally smitten—or they wouldn’t.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Thomas whispered, “Get busy.”

Maury grabbed a K-II meter and started waving it at the wall hangings along the wall near the dining room.

Thomas punched the record button on his digital recorder and Willie Jo pointed his IR camera toward the basement door.

Within seconds Sinclair joined them in the hallway. “Find any spooks?”

“We won’t know for sure until we examine the evidence we’ve collected,” said Willie Jo. “You may be surprised by what we find.”

Sinclair raised a disbelieving brow, then poked his head into the dining room. He turned back around and asked, “Where’s Frannie?”

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” said Thomas with a dismissive wave of the hand.

Sinclair didn’t budge, obviously not satisfied. Maury hadn’t thought he would be.  Willie Jo and Thomas were wrong. The longing for one’s soul mate is strong, and Sinclair had all the symptoms of a man ready for love, whether he knew it or not.

Maury saw it in his face whenever Sinclair spoke of Frannie, and the longing was in his tone whenever he asked for her.

Just then the doors leading into the west wing heaved and groaned.

Maury froze. Earlier Harrison had been the culprit slamming doors, but now he was in the basement with Frannie.

This wasn’t a practical joke—at least not a human one.

“Harrison,” snarled Sinclair.

Ghosts, thought Maury, taking a step back to press his backside against the wall. He really detested the spirits who had taken up residence in Haliday Hall. They scared the daylights out of him.

Thus far, his magical incantations had revealed only two kinds of specters at Haliday Hall. The first type, sweet little wraiths searching for their loved ones, didn’t bother him at all. It was the second type that got to him. They were nasty creatures who would just as soon harm you as look at you. And moaning doors were just the least of what they could do.

Maury swiped at the sweat forming on his forehead as the fine hair on the back of his neck rose to attention.

“It’s not Harrison this time,” said Willie Jo. “He’s with Frannie.”

“And where might that be?” asked Sinclair. “Maybe they’re in it together this time.”

“Come to think of it, I believe they said something about investigating in the cellars.” Thomas shot Sinclair a smile, which Maury hoped wouldn’t give them all away. Maybe Sinclair would interpret Thomas’s grin as reassuring.

“You let Frannie go alone with Harrison into the basement?” demanded Sinclair. “Do you think that was wise?”

Obviously the smile didn’t allay the man’s fears.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Willie Jo. “Surely Harrison wouldn’t harm Frannie.”

“But he might well lead her into all sorts of trouble,” replied Sinclair, stalking toward the door to the basement.

Since they had magically sealed the door, he wouldn’t be able to get through it. But Maury was putting his money on Sinclair finding another way to find the woman he would soon love if he had the chance.

Frannie fiddled with the doorknob
for five solid minutes and it still wouldn’t budge. The narrowness of the staircase landing had her biting back claustrophobia.

“Allow me,” said Harrison, moving beside her. He yanked the knob, but again it didn’t move. He shoved at the door, but it hung solid. “That’s never happened before.”

“Do you know another way out of this dungeon?” She took a step back to gain more air. With the walls no longer closing in on her, annoyance at the series of delays won out. She’d had enough of Harrison’s company, too. “How about a nice little secret passage or something?”

“It’s been years since I’ve used it, but yes. There’s one in the wine cellar.” He descended the stairs and Frannie followed him like a shadow.

Although his company annoyed her, being alone in the basement would be worse.

Two hallways over, they entered a room lined with shelves holding bottles of wine.

“Come a little closer,” said Harrison, grabbing a couple of bottles and sticking them under an arm, stirring up years of dust in the process.

Frannie sneezed and tried to breathe as she stepped beside him.

He pulled a tiny lever between two sets of shelves. The concrete bricks beneath their feet swiveled and what she now recognized as a platform spun 180 degrees until the shelves clanged shut, leaving the two of them in a dark and narrow corridor.

She’d had enough of dark hallways. Thank goodness she had her cell phone flashlight.