Intertwine (8 page)

The storm still raged, somehow even more furious, rattling her bedroom window, battering the roof overhead.

Taking a deep breath, Emme realized the night was dark. Too dark. Swathed in inky-blackness dark. Emme blinked, straining to see some glimmer of light. The power was out.

A sudden crash of lightning illuminated the room. Emme caught a startled scream in her throat.

Really? The whole jumpy-jumpy thing was getting old.

Rain beat heavily on the roof above her head. Something outside repeatedly thumped in the wind.

Horrific storm, disturbing dreams and now no power. Perfect. She refused to think about how this disaster could get worse. No need to tempt fate.

Sighing, Emme rolled over and punched her pillow, trying to calm her mind. But not succeeding.

Her phone suddenly
bing
ed in the darkness of the room. Reaching for it, she pushed the home button and then blinked against the instant brightness.

Text message. Jasmine.

you up

Yes, bad storm. No power. Terrible dreams.

on beltane that’s such bad luck

Not helping. Why am I so obsessed with a dead man? It’s wrong.

your head is messed

Exactly. It’s beyond pathetic. Don’t you think it’s time to exorcise Finn?

no i’ve been telling you for years that he is part of you

circles intertwined and all

You know comments like that just don’t help, right? Feeding my Finn addiction isn’t in my best interest right now. You’re supposed to be my friend. Not my enabler.

i’m not enabling you, you just haven’t been listening, i’m telling you that Finn is your destiny

Wait! Did you just use punctuation?! Wow. You must be serious.

more serious than i’ve ever been. period. you are linked and he will find you. it’s your fate

When would this obsession end? How had it gotten so out of control? Emme texted a few more lines and then said goodnight, turning off her phone screen.

She was now good and wide awake. And the power was still out. But when she twisted to look out the window, she could see lights punctuating the darkness here and there through the storm. Marfield wasn’t dark. Just Duir Cottage. Which meant that it was most likely a popped fuse. She really should wait until morning. But then her laptop wouldn’t be fully charged. And the baseboard heaters would be off all night. And it was cold.

And Emme was never one to put off a problem.

She threw off her warm covers, trying to ignore the rush of cold air against her skin. She loved her nightgown, old-fashioned and trailing to the floor, but its silk fabric wasn’t much for retaining body heat. She picked up the matching robe and pulled it on, tying its little ribbons across her chest, stuffing her feet into her pink slippers. Grabbing her phone, she flipped on its flashlight.

Following the weak, ghostly light of her phone, she navigated the stairs as thunder rumbled. The house still felt alive, thrumming with energy. Emme took in a measured breath, trying to remember if she had seen a breaker box anywhere. Her memory pulled up nothing.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, puzzling through the options. The kitchen? No. Laundry room? No. Was it in the closet underneath the stairs? She hadn’t done more than casually glance through closets, but it was a possibility. Lightning pulsed through the house instantly flooding every corner with light. A crackling crash of thunder immediately followed. The energy in the air tingled her skin. The booming sound trembled the floor beneath her feet. Emme’s heart raced. This storm needed to be over.

She pulled open the little door to the hallway closet, shining her light to inspect it. She noted the vacuum cleaner and bucket of cleaning supplies, and then her light illuminated something shiny on the floor. Bending down, she realized it was a handle to a trap door. Ah, a cellar. That would be a likely place for the breaker box. She briefly imagined the whole house shining with light, banishing all the ghoulish shadows of the storm. Yes, electricity would be good.

It was simple to twist the handle and pull up the trap door, locking the hinge to hold the door open. To her chagrin, Emme couldn’t help but remember all the movies where bad things happened to heroines—particularly those who wandered into dark unknown basements in the middle of thunderstorms. But she was hardly a heroine. And this was most definitely not a horror story. Spiders were the worst she would find, right?

Her phone light showed steep wooden stairs leading downward, dusty and darkened with age. Gathering the long skirt of her nightgown into her hands, she carefully descended the stairs, ducking her head as she went. At the bottom of the steps, her feet touched uneven ground, packed dirt. The room smelled musty and cool, of things long shuttered and ignored, the rumbling thunder muted. Swinging her phone around, she made out a space just larger than the span of her arms, lined with large cut stones. Her head nearly brushed the ceiling.

A shadow of something unexpected caught her eye on the wall opposite the stairs. The breaker box? Another sweep of her light and she saw that one stone was larger than the others, nearly two feet wide and traveling the height of the space, from floor to ceiling. Stepping closer to inspect, Emme leaned forward.

Impossible! Just impossible. She must be seeing things.

An emotion somewhere between panic and thrilled hysteria swept her. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to think, trying to comprehend what she might be seeing.

She needed a stronger light. And Finn.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, she raced back up the stairs, stumbling over her nightgown, dashing frantically into the kitchen. Where was her purse? Where had she left it?

Glancing around wildly, she cursed the weak light from her phone, unable to penetrate the blackness around her. Another burst of light flashed through the room, allowing her to see her purse lying on the kitchen table. Two steps and she had it in her hand.

She grabbed it and shoved her hand inside, looking for her more powerful flashlight. Finding it and turning it on, she dropped her now dark cell phone into the purse and then dug Finn out of a padded side pocket. Her tablet with all her research notes was in her purse too, so she closed the bag and slung it over her shoulder, wrapping Finn’s chain around her palm, clutching him in her fist.

With the bright flashlight in one hand and Finn in the other, she headed back down the stairs.

Once her slippered feet hit the packed dirt, she took a deep breath to steady herself. Honestly, she was probably just seeing things. It had been an unsettling night. Another round of thunder vibrated through the house, as if to emphasize her mental point. The air was alive with charged particles. She shone the light forward, not sure what to expect.

It was still there, illuminated clearly in the center of her light, on the large stone that stretched from floor to ceiling.

She took a step, her breath loud and harsh in her ears. She swallowed and then lifted the locket in her other hand to compare.

It was the same. Exactly.

The curvy intertwined initials on the back of the locket were etched into the stone on the wall, mirror perfect.

Impossible.

The symbol was too unique to be coincidence. What connection could F possibly have to this house? Why carve initials here too? It was so fantastic. Too amazing.

She took another two steps forward, eyes still darting back and forth between the locket clutched in her outstretched hand and the symbol on the rock, comparing just to be sure.

Yes, it really was the same.

Close enough now, she quickly looped Finn around her neck to free her hand. Lightning pulsed long and sustained, bright enough to illuminate even the dark cellar. Emme felt the hair on her arms and neck raise, prickling with electricity. Thunder vibrated heavily through the air, causing the trapdoor behind her to slam shut.

She stretched out her hand to trace the symbol on the rock, wanting to confirm with touch what her eyes already knew. That it was real.

The bristling feeling of charged electricity became stronger, magnetic, almost pulling her arm forward of its own accord. Blinking in surprise at the sensation, Emme touched the stone.

And then true disaster struck.

Emme saw a blinding flash of light and felt the strong jolt course through her, matched by crashing that threatened to burst her ears. She was pulled forward and vertigo over swept her.

She was falling, falling, falling.

And then suddenly she was not. She could feel pelting rain against her face, wind tugging at her body. A flash of light illuminated black sky as she swayed gasping in the sudden biting cold.

What had happened? Where was she?

Branches whipped at her, tugging at her nightgown now soaked through. Wrapping her arms around her chest, Emme staggered forward trying to see through the gloom, but wooden arms kept grabbing at her. Trying to catch her. Stumbling, she desperately tried to see some sort of habitation in the inky blackness, but limbs tripped her as she lurched onward.

She didn’t know how long she struggled to walk. The cold seeped deep into her bones and made dodging branches harder. A sudden pulse of lightning showed a slight clearing in the trees ahead. Maybe it would contain some sort of shelter.

She hurried forward, a buffeting gust pushing fiercely against her back. Suddenly, a loud crack sounded. Something heavy knocked her head.

And then blackness took her.

Chapter 7

Herefordshire

On the lane to Haldon Manor

Beltane

April 30, 1812

J
ames was almost home. He pulled his coat tightly around his shoulders, trying to ignore the damp that seeped into his bones. He conjured the image of a hot fire and warm bath waiting for him. Anything to pull his mind from the pelting rain.

Suddenly, lightning lit the sky bright as noon-day, causing Luther to jump and dance sideways. The bolt was more than just the usual flicker of light. It was a cascade that lingered, pulsed, illuminating the world bright as noon day for several long seconds. Casting forest and path into sharp relief. The lightning faded slowly, pulsing again and again. James could taste the metallic air, his hair prickling from the electricity. Long before the light faded, thunder cracked and then boomed, trembling the earth.

But within the loud rumble, James heard something else. A distinct crash to his left, the sound of something large shattering. The sound continued after the thunder faded, echoing through the dark night.

James paused, his mind racing to identify the noise. The lightning must have struck something. Something large. There was really only one possibility.

The ancient oak tree. That age-old relic of earlier times with its enormous branches over-stretching a meadow in the middle of his land.

Everyone well knew the propensity that oaks had to attract lightning. Though usually if the strike were not severe, the tree could survive. Granted, that bolt of lightning had been less of a glancing blow and more like a full-fledged battle. The ancient oak losing.

With sinking heart, James realized that such a powerful jolt could actually kill the tree. If true, this did not bode well. The villagers were already so superstitious about the gigantic oak, claiming that it held supernatural powers. What mayhem would they read into its destruction? Particularly on Beltane? James sighed inwardly. Perhaps he was wrong. The noise could have been something else. Perhaps.

James shook his head and urged Luther forward. Nothing could be done about it tonight regardless; he just wanted to be dry. He continued along the road, focusing on reaching his warm bed.

Lightning flashed yet again, leaving the impression of white trees and dark sky lingering in front of his eyes. Trees and briefly something else. A flicker of white lying off the side of the path, a bare arm clutched against a tree. Puzzled, James stopped again and waited for the next pulse to light the sky. When it came, it confirmed what he had seen: a figure dressed in white clinging to a tree trunk, dark hair wet and tangled.

What insanity would bring a person out into a night like this?