He closed his eyes for a moment, as if battling to remain calm. “Sherbrook is the name of the inn. The place is Taurin Bay.”
An odd sense of foreboding ran through her. Evan had attended a school camp in Taurin Bay only a month ago. Jayne had gone along as cook and chief pot-washer. “That force you said was driving you to me—was it male or female?”
“Male.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
Evan—something told her it was Evan. Maddie licked her lips and wondered if she should call her sister—or was she just worrying over nothing again?
“Maddie, what’s wrong?”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. “My sister has a thirteen-year-old son named Evan. Both of them were in Taurin Bay last month.”
“Damn!” Jon ran a hand through his hair, then abruptly walked forward, stopping only when his knees touched the side of her bed.
He was close, so close. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, feel the whisper of his breath wash across her skin. Could smell him—a faint scent of cologne mixed with hints of earth and sweat. But he wasn’t real, damn it!
“Over the last two years, sixteen teenagers have been taken from their homes and haven’t been seen alive again. In each case, no locks or windows were disturbed. And each time, the teenager was taken on the next full moon after their families returned from Taurin Bay.”
Her heart leaped. She raised a hand to her throat and tried to remain calm. “Evan is safe at home. This is ridiculous.”
“Someone is drawing me here, Madeline. Someone who knows he’s in danger. You’re the connection between us. Tonight is a full moon. Go call your sister.”
She scrambled off the bed and ran to the bedroom door. Then she hesitated, looking back at Jon. He hadn’t moved, but his body had faded, losing its shape to the darkness. Only his blue eyes were still bright.
“Go call her,” he said. “Then come to me. Save me.”
Maddie turned away from his plea, though she knew he wouldn’t be there when she returned. She ran down the hall to the phone in the kitchen, turning on lights as she went. Somehow, the darkness seemed too intense to face alone.
Fingers trembling, she picked up the phone and dialed Jayne’s number. It seemed to ring forever. Maddie bit her lip, hoping nothing had happened, hoping that Evan was in bed and safe.
“Hello?” a croaky, half-asleep voice said eventually.
“Jayne, it’s me,” she said without preamble. “Is Evan there? Is he all right?”
There was a slight pause, and Maddie could hear the rustle of blankets as her sister shifted around in her bed. “Of course he is. Why?”
Because I’m a fool; because a ghost told me he may be in danger. “Humor your little sister and just go check, will you?”
Jayne sighed. “Maddie, have you been drinking again?”
Maddie closed her eyes. Whenever Jayne thought she had a problem, she asked the same question—even though it had been six years and ten days since Maddie had last had a drink. She hadn’t touched alcohol since the fire that had taken her husband’s life. The experts had never found an explanation for that fire, though they had theories aplenty. Maddie knew the truth, but she wasn’t about to tell anyone—not even her sister.
She cleared her throat. “No. I had a dream, and I want to reassure myself he’s all right.”
“For God’s sake, it’s almost two.” Annoyance ran through Jayne’s voice, but at least she was still listening. She hadn’t yet slammed the phone down.
“I’m well aware of the time. It will only take a minute to check on Evan. Please.”
“I guess I’d better,” her sister muttered, “or you’ll be calling all night again.”
Maddie heard Steve, Jayne’s husband, murmur something disparaging, then the squeak of springs as Jayne got out of bed. Maddie grimaced, hoping she was overreacting. Hoping Jon wasn’t right. She stared out the kitchen window as she waited, watching the snow flurries dance across her yard. Then she heard the sound of returning footsteps and felt her stomach knot. Please let Evan be safe.
“Evan’s sound asleep in bed, Maddie.” Jayne’s voice was a mix of exasperation and annoyance. “And so should you be.”
This time Jayne did hang up on her, but Maddie didn’t mind. Jon had been wrong. Evan was okay. She replaced the receiver, then thrust a shaking hand through her hair as she sagged back against the wall in relief. Maybe Jayne was right. Maybe all she needed was a good night’s sleep—something that had eluded her ever since her world had disappeared into flames.
She closed her eyes, fighting the memories, fighting the sudden need to wash the pain into oblivion with a drink. That chapter of her life was over. She would not return to it, even through memories. And if Jon did come back, she’d tell him to go find someone else to haunt. She wasn’t interested—not if the cost was to make her sister think she was stranger than ever.
HIS ONLY CHANCE OF SURVIVAL WAS A WOMAN AFRAID OF life. Jon shook his head at the irony of it and leaned wearily against the cold stone wall of the well. He’d seen the fear in the amber flame of her eyes, in the tremor in her hands as she ran her fingers through her chestnut-colored hair. She was afraid to move from the safety of her home.
And he would die if she didn’t.
He smiled grimly and stared up at the pale stars twinkling in the dark bracket of sky far above him.
How he wished he could fly, simply wing his way up out of the well to freedom! But with his arm like this, he couldn’t even climb. He glanced down, noting that his flesh had swollen around the handkerchief he’d tied across his forearm.
Someone had shot him, but not with a gun, as Madeline had presumed. Someone in Taurin Bay knew what he was. He’d used arrows made of white ash, a wood that was deadly to those with magic in their souls when embedded in their flesh.
He’d broken off most of the shaft, but a section remained, and while it was probably the only reason he hadn’t bled to death, it was also slowly but surely killing him.
Oddly enough, he felt no pain. Not now, anyway. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the numbness beginning to infuse his body. Or maybe he was as thick-skinned as many of his friends believed.
He grimaced and closed his eyes. He’d thought about dying many times in his life, but he never thought death would come like this, with him lying helpless and alone in the cold, cold night.
And yet, in some ways, it was oddly fitting. He’d spent most of his adult life alone, so why not die the same way?
He wouldn’t have cared much, either, if only he’d had the chance to see his family one more time and explain why he’d avoided them so much over the last ten years.
An owl hooted softly in the distance. He listened carefully, then heard the soft snap of wings, the small cry of a field mouse. If the owls were out looking for a meal, it meant there was no one about to disturb their hunting. And therefore, no one hunting him. Trapped down this damn well, he’d be easy pickings. A day had passed since he’d been shot. By all rights, he should be safe from attackers, but he’d learned over the years never to relax his guard.
He toed the water lapping the edges of the small ledge. The water had been his salvation in more ways than one. It had broken his fall and, no doubt, saved his life. And it was drinkable, which meant he wasn’t in any danger of dehydration. But it might yet kill him, too. His abilities gave him some protection against the cold, but he knew he was starting to push his limits. His plunge into the water had soaked every bit of his clothing, and now he was so cold it hurt to move.
If Madeline did find the courage to come to his rescue, she might discover nothing more than a five-foot-ten-inch icicle.
Madeline—what was he going to do about her? How could he convince her that she was sane and that he really needed her help? What had happened in her life that made her so afraid?
A wave of dizziness hit him, and there was nothing he could do except ride out the feeling. He probably had enough strength left to contact her one mo
re time. If he couldn’t convince her to help him, he’d just have to hope that someone in the Circle realized he was in trouble and came to his rescue.
Because if someone didn’t, more kids would die.
THE SNOW HAD TURNED TO RAIN, WHICH FELL IN A SOAKING mist. Rivers of water were beginning to run past the house, scouring tiny trenches along the freshly graded driveway. The tops of the cedars, claret ashes, and silver birches that crowded the fence line were lost to the mist, and though dawn should have come and gone, night still seemed to hold court.
Maddie raised the coffee mug she held between both hands and took a sip. The wind was bitter, but the wide old verandah protected her from the worst of the storm, and her threadbare coat kept her warm enough. She couldn’t face going indoors just yet. As much as she’d tried to go back to sleep, she couldn’t. The old house suddenly felt too big, too full of ghosts …
Except for one.
She sighed and leaned back against a verandah post. She couldn’t shake Jon from her thoughts. Couldn’t shake the desperation she’d glimpsed in his eyes.
What if he really was in need of her help?
She sipped her coffee and stared out across the snow-flung wilderness of her yard. In a last-ditch effort to salvage her life, she’d moved to Oregon to be a little closer to her sister and nephew, and had bought this house and its untamed three acres six years ago. It had become her haven, the one place she felt truly safe. Or it had until a ghost had started invading her nights.
Still, she had no real wish to be anywhere else. The flowers she raised in the barn she’d converted to a greenhouse made small luxuries possible, and she had enough money invested to see her through the hard times. Even Jayne had given up her efforts to get Maddie back into what she called “mainstream” life.
Maddie chewed on her lip. The question she had to face was clear. Could she simply stand by and let Jon die?
If she believed him, the answer was no. But that was the crux of the matter. Part of her was afraid to believe, and part of her was afraid not to. She took another sip of coffee and shivered as the wind ran icy fingers across the back of her neck.
Then she stiffened. Something told her she was no longer alone. Slowly, she turned.
Jon stood several feet away, his face as pale as the snow behind him, blue eyes still bright despite the shadows beneath them. He looked like death, and the thought chilled her soul.
“What can I do to make you believe me?” he asked softly.
There was a hoarseness to his voice that had not been evident a few hours before, an edge of weariness and pain that tore at her need to stay safe.
“Maybe it’s not a case of me believing you. Maybe it’s just a case of knowing I can’t help you.”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked away, appearing to study the silvery drops dripping steadily from a hole in the gutter. “Then you have killed me as surely as those who shot me,” he whispered after a moment.
“No!” She closed her eyes. How could she ever survive the weight of another death, whether or not it was her fault? “Isn’t there someone I could contact, maybe a friend in a better position to help?”
“My companions live in Washington, D.C., and my time is running out.” He looked at her. “You’re my only chance, Madeline. Please.”
Something in his eyes made her want to reach out and touch him. She clenched her fingers around her coffee cup and turned away, knowing she had to react with her mind—not with her emotions, and definitely not with her heart. They had only led her to tragedy in the past.
“Why won’t they suspect me?”
“You are … ordinary.”
Ordinary. She almost laughed at the bitter irony of it. How often had she heard that in the past? No one suspected the truth, not even her own sister.
“Madeline, I don’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She turned to face him. “I can’t change what I am. Nor can I deny that I’m afraid. But I just can’t run off wildly without some proof.”
He sighed. “I’m in no position to prove anything.”
Mist drifted around him, darkening his hair where it touched. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the heat of his body, to hold him close and caress away the lines of pain from his face. Maybe I am insane. I want to touch this ghost in ways I never touched my husband. Shaking her head, she stepped away from him.
Something flickered in his blue eyes, and a slight grimace twisted his generous mouth. It was almost as if he’d sensed the reason for her fear. But that’s ridiculous—he’s a ghost—an astral traveler—not a mind reader. The sharp ring of the telephone interrupted the heavy silence. Maddie glanced at her watch and frowned. It was barely seven. Who would be calling at this hour? She headed inside to answer it, then hesitated, meeting Jon’s steady gaze.
“We won’t meet again,” he murmured. He reached out, as if to touch her cheek, then let his hand fall. “For that, I’m sorry. Stay safe, Madeline.”
“No …” Maddie watched him fade until there was nothing left but the warmth of his voice in her thoughts.
She closed her eyes and fought the rise of tears. Damn it, why should she cry for a ghost when she hadn’t even cried for her husband? She bit her lip and watched the mist swirl around the spot where he’d stood. Maybe because Jon had shown her more warmth in the few hours she’d known him than Brian had ever shown in the six years they were married?
The insistent ringing broke through her thoughts. She took a deep breath, then ran down the length of the verandah to the back door, fleeing her thoughts as much as running for the phone.
Slamming the door open, she snatched the receiver from the hook. “Hello?”
“Maddie?”
She froze. It was Jayne … Oh lord, let Evan be safe. Yet the note in her sister’s voice told her something was terribly wrong. “What is it?”
“It’s Evan,” Jayne sobbed. “He’s disappeared, Maddie. Just gone … without a trace.”
“I NEED YOUR HELP. YOU CAN SEE THINGS … YOU SAW something last night … I need to know …” Jayne’s voice faded into silence.
Maddie closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. After all the years of denials, after all the years of fear, Jayne was not only acknowledging her abilities but also asking for help. It was a miracle Maddie had never thought she’d see, and one that left her oddly frightened.
If Jayne knew, maybe Steve did, too.
And maybe he knew about Brian. She took a deep breath. No, Steve was a cop. If he suspected anything, he would have reported it.
Her thoughts stuttered to a sudden halt. She’d asked Jon for some form of proof; perhaps this was it. Evan had disappeared, just as he’d predicted.
So Jon was real. And dying.
She clenched her fingers against the phone and tried to remain calm. “What do you expect me to do that Steve can’t?”
“Steve’s restricted by the law, though he’s looking … but you’re the only one who can … who can help Evan. Only you.”
There was an odd certainty in Jayne’s voice that made Maddie frown. Maybe she wasn’t the only gifted member in the family, after all. “Jayne, my gifts are decidedly unreliable and … well, dangerous.” Which had to be the biggest understatement she’d ever made. “I’m willing to try, but Steve’s a detective. Surely he—”
“No! Maddie, you must look for him. Please, promise me.”
The desperation in her sister’s voice reminded Maddie of Jon. “Okay. But I’ll need to see his room, first.” She hesitated, then added, “Does Steve know you’re asking me to do this?”
Jayne’s silence was answer enough. Maddie closed her eyes. She’d taken to visiting Jayne and Evan when Steve wasn’t home. He’d never bothered to mask his opinion of her, and lately that opinion had been openly hostile.
“Maddie, please …”
She sighed. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” Jayne whispered, and hung up.
M
addie gulped down the remains of her coffee, then turned and ran toward her bedroom. Grabbing an old canvas carryall from under a pile of sweaters, she threw in everything she thought she might need for the next week. Maybe Jayne was right. Maybe her hated abilities were the only way to find Evan quickly. Even so, she couldn’t do it alone.
Once she’d seen Jayne, she was going down to Taurin Bay to find the man who wasn’t a ghost.
* * *
MADDIE CLIMBED OUT OF THE TRUCK AND STUDIED JAYNE’S large, two-story home. It was barely eight in the morning, but the winter light was so dim it might as well have been early evening. And though the house was lit up like a Christmas tree, the silence that draped it was so heavy she could almost touch it. Maddie counted the windows along the top floor until she found Evan’s room. From the outside, at least, it showed no sign of forced entry.
She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked up the newly shoveled driveway, trying to ignore the insidious whisper in her mind that was telling her she should have stayed home, should have stayed safe.
Jayne opened the front door. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face looked much older without its usual coating of makeup. Maddie stepped up onto the porch, then stopped, unsure of what to do next. Jayne was usually the one in control, the one who believed any sign of emotion should be kept out of the public gaze. Even as children, it had always been Maddie who had lost her temper, Maddie who had cried, never Jayne.
“We should have taken your dream seriously,” Jayne said, her gaze not quite meeting Maddie’s. “But we didn’t listen. Oh God, we just didn’t believe …”
Maddie hesitated, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her sister. Jayne stiffened for just a moment, then collapsed against her, sobbing softly.
“I’ll find him,” Maddie promised. “Somehow, I’ll find him.”
Jayne sniffed and pulled away. “He hasn’t left a note or anything. He’s simply vanished.”
Vanished, just as Jon had warned. Maddie shivered. Something told her that if she was to have any hope of finding Evan, she had to find Jon first.