Long Black Veil (19 page)

He pulled her closer, and she let him, wanting to sink into him until they shared the same skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up higher so that she was tight against his chest. His mouth dropped down to her neck, as his hands pushed aside her heavy hair. Devon felt something tighten in her stomach and she shivered at the pure pleasure she felt when he trailed hot kisses down her throat.

Her hands found their way to his hair and she twined her fingers through it. If her Gammy saw her now, she’d have a conniption fit. She was breaking every rule her grandmother had warned her of and she was relishing it.

Devon cracked her eyes open to sneak a peek at Brock when she noticed a dark form standing at the driver’s side window. Her eyes popped all the way open and she pulled away from Brock with a shriek. He turned to see what had spooked her and jumped himself.

“Holy shit!” he shouted, lurching away from the window.

The woman in the black veil stood next to the car, watching them. Even though Devon couldn’t see the veiled woman’s face, she could feel the weight of her stare, glaring at them from beneath the fabric.

Anger surged through Devon. She’d had enough. “That’s it!” she cried, pushing her door open. “I. HAVE. HAD. IT!” She stepped out of the car and came around the front of it, but the woman in the black veil was already drifting towards the ruined chapel.

She heard Brock open his door as she ran after the ghost. “Dev, wait a sec!”

But she was furious and wanting to vent it. How dare this apparition try and dictate her life! She was just as bad as the townspeople who didn’t want to mix with folk who lived on the mountain. Devon was tired of living by everyone else’s rules, and being put in certain boxes because of whose daughter she was, or where she lived. It was why she couldn’t wait to get away from this place. And now, this spectral pain in the ass was trying to take away the one good thing that had happened to her this entire year. She was over it.

“Hey, you giant perv!” Devon shouted, running to the church doors. “Yeah, you with the boundaries problem!” That probably wouldn’t endear her to whoever this woman was, but Devon didn’t particularly care. “What the hell is your deal?”

She cleared the doors and stopped, surprised to see that the veiled woman had stopped at the front of what used to be the altar. Devon heard the doors slam shut behind her. She could barely make out Brock’s frantic pounding as he tried to get them to open. Oh boy. She watched as the woman slowly turned around to face her.

Devon still felt the anger coursing through her, but now it was tempered with a slice of fear. But she was here now—and apparently trapped—and she wanted some answers. She took a step closer to the ghost. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice echoing strangely.

The woman reached up, her thin hands pulling the veil back over her head. Devon winced and muttered, “Oh God, please don’t have an eyeball hanging out or face rot.”

But the face that was revealed was young—maybe twentyish—and would have been quite lovely, if grief hadn’t left its mark on her features. Tear tracks gleamed against pale skin, streaking down cheeks sunken with despair. Her eyes glowed dimly, showing no whites. There was only dark desolation in her gaze. Devon felt herself caught in that whirlwind of pain, the ghost’s eyes drawing her deeper into the past.

The ghost stepped forward, and Devon took a step of her own to meet her. She felt the pull toward this creature, and she was no longer afraid of her. Somehow Devon knew that the ghost wanted answers too. Devon took another step, mirrored by the ghost, and another, until they faced each other with only an arm’s length between them. Brock’s door pounding sounded very far away.

Devon watched as the ghost reached forward and carefully, almost gently, took her hand. Devon felt the cold of the ghost’s touch leach into her skin, going deep to the bone, and she gasped in pain and wonder. The hand in hers felt real, as solid as her own. She could feel the delicate bones of the fingers beneath hers, almost like bird bones so slight were they.

She looked up at the ghost’s face and gasped. Her eyes weren’t just glowing, they were burning with a white fire that seemed to steal all of the remaining light in the room. Devon saw clouds of white forming around them: her breath as the temperature dropped quickly. The cold seeped into her, moving up from the stones and through the soles of her shoes and into her legs, but Devon couldn’t move, even if she’d wanted to. She felt herself falling into darkness, lit only by two brilliant stars.

Chapter Twenty

She was in the chapel, but it wasn’t a burned out relic. The roof was whole, the pews upright and polished to a high shine. Strong sunlight streamed in from the stained glass windows, painting the stone floor in kaleidoscope colors. Devon felt her body, as if ascertaining that she still had one. The woman in the long black veil was nowhere to be found.

The door opened on silent, well-oiled hinges. Two young people came in: a woman and a man, although calling them that was generous. The girl couldn’t have been older than sixteen, the boy maybe a year older. They were deep in conversation, almost like an argument.

Devon gasped when the girl turned. It was the woman in the veil except younger. And when she got a better look at the man, she realized that he looked very much like the picture of Daniel Holfsteder that she’d found in the old archives. Where had the ghost brought her? Or when?

The girl and boy took no notice of her, ignoring even her gasp. It was like they couldn’t even see her at all. She waved her hands in the air, but they didn’t even glance her way.

“Jessamy, please!” Daniel begged, grabbing at the girl’s hand. She snatched it away from him, anger plain on her face. “You can’t marry him.”

“Why not? He asked papa for my hand.” Her voice was scathing. “My father approves of the pairing, and Keaton is a decent man.”

“I’m not denying that,” Daniel said. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “He’s my oldest friend. But you don’t love him, Jess!”

Jessamy whirled, her blue eyes glaring at him. “Don’t you say such things to me!”

Daniel moved closer to her. Devon could see the high spots of color on Jessamy’s cheekbones, saw her nostrils flare in anger as Daniel closed in. But she didn’t step back out of his path. Devon watched as Daniel took her in his arms.

“I’ll say such things to you because they are the truth. You don’t love him because you love me.”

Jessamy pushed against his chest, throwing herself out of his arms. She straightened her skirts with a finely boned hand. “Be that as it may,” she said, her voice low and rough, “HE asked.”

Daniel flinched as if she’d struck him with a weapon instead of words. “Jess, you know I would have—if you’d just waited…”

“For what? Your family to change their minds about me?” She barked a sharp laugh, bitter like day old coffee. “For me to be a dried up old spinster woman?” She shook her head. “Keaton’s family doesn’t mind that I come from the mountain.”

“Keaton’s family needs the money your dowry can bring,” Daniel growled.

“And yours doesn’t.” Jessamy waved his insult away. “Keaton loves me. And I can build a life with him.” She swept past him, and this time he let her go.

She turned back to him once she got to the door. “I may love you, Daniel Holfsteder, but I’ll not wait forever.” And then she was gone.

The air shimmered around Devon and she was suddenly somewhere else.

*****

It was night now. Devon looked around, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. There was light, a candle from the way it was flickering, coming from another room. She took a tentative step, unsure of exactly where she was. It looked like some kind of empty animal stall. It had a low door so she could see over it and into what looked like a stable of some sort.

There were candles stuck in various alcoves. Daniel Holfsteder stood in the center, anxiously watching the closed barn door. Devon had an idea of who he was waiting for, and her suspicions were confirmed when the door opened only wide enough to admit a woman in a long coat with a veil covering her head.

“Jess,” Daniel breathed, taking quick strides to come to her side.

“I can’t stay long,” she said, unwrapping the veil from around her face and hair. Droplets of melting snow gleamed and shattered the candlelight.

Daniel caught her up in a fierce embrace, his mouth swooping down on Jessamy’s. Devon felt like she was intruding, even though the two of them had no idea she was there. She was a ghost herself, only able to observe the past.

“I love you,” he whispered, his fingers lovingly tracing the lines of her face.

Jessamy leaned her forehead against Daniel’s chest. “I can’t stay. I’m a married woman now.”

“But you still came.” Daniel smiled down at the top of her head. “I’m glad.”

“I am too.” She lifted her mouth to his.

Devon didn’t know how much time had passed between this vision and the first one in the church, but it had been enough for Jessamy to marry Keaton. She turned away, not wanting to intrude any more than she already was. She only turned back when they began to speak again.

“Leave him.” Daniel whispered.

Jess shook her head. “This is impossible. Keaton is our friend, my husband.”

Then she looked up, directly at where Devon stood. Her eyes narrowed, as if she could see Devon. The air began to shimmer once more and again Devon was someplace else.

*****

Devon stumbled, landing on her knees in a snowdrift. She didn’t feel the cold at all, even as the wind whipped stray flakes into a frenzy around her. She knew where she was; it hadn’t changed that much in all of these years. The town hall stood before her, the clock reading ten o’clock. A man stood in front of the building, illuminated against the snow by the full moon above.

She didn’t recognize the man from any of the pictures she’d found. Devon took a few steps closer, trying to get a better look at him. He continued to stand, looking up and down the street, but he clearly didn’t see her.

A crack broke the quiet of the night air. Devon knew what a gunshot sounded like, and she hit the ground. She doubted a bullet would affect her since she seemed to be invisible in this time, but she wasn’t going to risk it. Her eyes scanned the square, but didn’t see anything. When she tried to find the man who’d been standing there, she saw a dark shape lying on the ground.

Devon was up before she even thought about it, pelting over to the fallen man. She dropped to her knees next to him, her fingers against his neck for a pulse. His skin was already icy, and blood seeped from the wound on his back. His eyes were open and his mouth worked, but he couldn’t see her.

She heard a rustle from farther up the road. Her head came up, eyes searching the darkness. She caught a look at man with an old style rifle slung across his back. He seemed to be confirming his kill, although he didn’t come closer. He turned and was gone.

Devon put her hands on the dying man’s chest. The air shimmered a third time and she was once again falling through clouds of white air.

*****

Devon pushed herself up from the floor. The woman had replaced her veil, and as Devon watched, she faded into nothingness. Just as she faded away completely, the doors sprang open. Brock stumbled through, caught himself, then rushed to her side.

“Dev!” He dropped down next to her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “What the hell happened in here?”

Devon leaned against him, grateful for his warmth. Her thoughts were all jumbled up in her head, and she was having a hard time making sense of anything. She felt disconnected from herself; unsurprising considering she’d just taken a supernatural trip through time. Her stomach heaved and she swallowed thickly, trying not be sick. Sweat broke out all over her body.

“Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she?” Brock’s voice was just one level lower than frantic.

She put a hand to her head, as if physical contact would still the roiling thoughts in her head. “I’ll be okay.”

Brock crushed her to his chest, his lips in her hair. “Don’t you dare go after her again by yourself. The doors were locked or something—I couldn’t get in to help you!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that would happen.” She adjusted her position so she could look at his face. Concern and fear stood in his eyes as he looked down at her. Devon put a hand to his cheek, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to find him.

Brock took her hand from his face and placed gentle kisses along her knuckles. “I’m just glad she didn’t hurt you.”

Devon shook her head carefully, still feeling like it might roll off her neck at any sudden movement. “No, she didn’t.” Her eyes widened as she realized what she had been witness to. “Oh, Brock, she showed me what happened. I think I understand now.”

“What do you mean, she showed you?” His frown was fiercely protective.

“I don’t know how she did it, but I saw her past—at least parts of it. Her name was Jessamy and she married a man named Keaton, but she really loved Daniel Holfsteder. And then I saw the shooting and there was no way Daniel could have done it because I saw the man who did do it and Daniel couldn’t have done it anyway because he was with Jessamy that night.” Her words came out in a torrent, like snow melt down the mountain.