Mystical Love (17 page)

A hand gripped Adrian's shirtsleeve and he jumped, startled by the unexpected touch.

“Sorry,” Janice stated with a shiver. “I had to touch something real.”

Adrian knew what she meant. The room and stench now resembled something out of a late-night sci-fi movie.

A fiendish laugh suddenly swept from the cloud like rumbling phlegm. It shot over their heads and bounced off the walls, growing in pitch and intensity.

“God damn, what is that?”

The question came from Adrian's left, but he didn't have time to offer a guess. The cloud intensified its crackling, festering like the hiss of a broom on wet cement. The laugh turned darker, as if feeding off the group's agitation and its pulsing lights turned a darker, richer purple. The laugh then went sour, becoming a malicious, hideous sound.

“God damn, what
is
that?” Lloyd asked again and Adrian heard the panic in the question. Again, Adrian didn't answer. He didn't think Lloyd would like the answer he supplied.

The cloud ripped apart suddenly, relieving itself of objects like the muted crack of icicles. Before they knew it, the floor in front of them was littered with a myriad of books and trinkets. The laugh hooted wildly again, shooting by them and evaporating back into the cloud with a sizzling whistle. The dazzling blur crackled once, twice more, and then vanished back into the crossbeams as if sucked through a vortex.

The group stood in their stunned huddle, no one having the courage to break the unease that had been left behind. Then Adrian seized the moment. With a quick intake of breath, he dropped to his knees and riffled through the objects. His action galvanized the group out of their stupors.

“What is it, Adrian?” Ginger queried, peering over his shoulder curiously.

Adrian picked up a round cylinder, offering it to Janice.

“Your compass, I believe.”

She took it from him, turning it over in her palm.

“But how?”

Her words trailed off as Adrian picked up a second round object and offered it to Muriel.

“Your wedding ring, Muriel.”

She took it from him, just as confused by its appearance.

“You were going to use it for the rehearsal,” she reminded.

Adrian met her curious stare.

“Actually I had it in my shirt lining only five minutes ago.”

Muriel didn't comment, merely slipped it on to her finger once more and stepped closer to Jasper's side.

“But, what does this all mean, Adrian?” Ginger insisted. “What is Lisette trying to tell us?”

Instead of answering, Adrian picked up a book and handed it to Jasper, who dropped to his haunches inspecting the treasure. He began to thumb through the book casually.

“Looks like a ship's log. Old as hell, but maybe readable.”

“From the baron,” Janice supplied, leaning down to inspect the book. “He's aiding us in our search.”

“And this is Lisette's diary,” Lloyd stated, picking up a second journal. A glazed, faraway look entered his eyes. “I've always sensed she kept a diary. Never could find it among the books, though.”

“Is this your ring, Adrian?” Ginger asked, holding a large ring out to him. Adrian scanned its markings and then shook his head.

“Could it be the baron's?” Muriel asked, curiously.

“It could be … ” He broke off. Could the ring belong to a third spirit? A spirit with a laugh that spoke of dreaded things? “Perhaps it belongs to Lisette's murderer,” he commented as if the answer was obvious.

“Three spirits,” Jasper said, spacing the words evenly.

“We can't fight three spirits at the same time, can we?”

Ginger's question had them all staring at the ring Adrian held between his fingers as if it were a crystal ball. When it remained silent, offering no verbal communication, Adrian chuckled.

“If wishes were horses … ” he stated, wryly.

The group laughed and the sound ignited a strange ballet in Adrian's head. One that housed a bizarre twist of fate. Were they about to relive that fateful day three hundred years ago? If he were Aubert and Janice was Lisette, that meant one member of the remaining group was to be the murderer. He felt Ginger's fingers on his shoulder and he shook his head, stalling her question.

“No, I don't know what lies ahead, but my guess is we'll soon find out.” He scanned each face in turn. “From here on out, none of us stays alone. Agreed?” Each head dipped in agreement. Exhaling, he slipped the ring back into his shirt lining. “Good. Now let's get the hell out of here and find a more suitable place to study our treasures.”

They each scooped up one of the scattered items and headed for the door, Lloyd first, Ginger next. Reaching the door, Adrian paused, letting Muriel and Jasper go through ahead of him and then noticing Janice's lagging gait, he waited for her. His eyebrow raised in surprise when she stopped by his side instead of exiting.

“Problem?”

“I had a horrible thought a moment ago.”

Adrian let his lips twitch slightly.

“Let's hear it.”

“What if we're about to relive the murder?”

Her intuition was so disturbingly like his own, it unnerved Adrian. It was time to divert their minds again with his special brand of sarcasm.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, Miss Kelly, but I sense that if you were given the choice between making love to me and seeing me murdered and mutilated, you'd choose the latter.”

“God, what a horrid thing to say! I don't want you dead.”

“How encouraging. And to think that only a few hours ago I dismissed you as a cold and sexless kewpie doll.”

Her lips twitched and then she laughed outright. Satisfaction pursed his mouth as she taunted.

“Would it be considered absolutely diabolical if I saved the ghosts the trouble and killed you myself?”

Adrian answered with a mock bow before he signaled her out. She slipped past him in a flash and he grinned appreciatively. He had been right not to kiss her. Now, there was a tangible bond between them that would be hard to break. Awareness, invitation, acceptance, all in a few seconds. The knowledge sent a surge of blood scurrying along his pulse and a rush of adrenalin to his legs. Quickly, they hurried to catch up with the disappearing group.

SATURDAY — 2:15 AM

Janice knew by her shaking hands that she was coming unglued at last. Why now when she was safely ensconced with the others? Because now she was grounded to reality again and could feel the overwhelming fears burning in the pit of her stomach. She raised her head to study the speckled green wallpaper surrounding the dressing table. It should be reassuring to recognize a chair as a chair and a table as a table. To distinguish colors. Why wasn't it? She knew the answer to that, too. Her mind had been stripped from her too easily. Sent to some empty hole to exist alone in an alternate dimension and she hadn't been able to stop it from happening.

Janice studied her reflection in the mirror. She had been lucky. She could've been left in that void if Adrian hadn't grounded her. Shivering, she dismissed the thought. Better not to think of Adrian, either. Leaning forward, she studied the green eyes reflected in the glass before her. Was she looking at the face of a woman who had undergone some kind of mad rebirth? Yes. In just a short twinkling of time, a transformation had occurred deep within her. She had traded places with another's soul, experienced that soul's life essence in a momentary flash, and had been thrust back into her own life, lucky enough to come away unscathed. Or at least partly unscathed.

Somewhere in the exchange with Lisette, Janice gained a new power. She had become empathic. There was no other word to describe it. Nothing else explained her heightened sense of awareness of space and time and things. Colors were brighter, voices were louder, matter seemed more real. Even now, through the open double doors, she could easily identify the murmurs of her companions. She could feel their movement, even their lack of it. What did it all mean?

Janice ran a finger along the rim of her lower eyelid. Surely she had aged decades in the last sixty minutes. Where were the lines? And where was her courage? It had suddenly gone underground. With a moan of distress, she pressed her hands over her flushed cheeks.

“Here, drink this,” came a husky voice, “it's only soda but it tastes heavenly.”

The words drifted to Janice's consciousness, followed by a cool wetness on the back of her right hand. She clutched the sweating glass, forcing herself to settle down. She took a deep breath, punctuated with several even gasps.

“You're a peach, Ginger,” she applauded between gasps, “I'm tired, but most of all, I'm hungry and thirsty.”

“I've got just the thing,” Muriel remarked from the doorway. “I've fixed us some sandwiches.”

She bustled over the threshold, silver tray in hand, and Janice spun around on her stool. Food. She was starved. Not waiting for the tray to be set down, she scooped several of the sliced sandwiches as Muriel passed.

“I could eat a bear,” she declared, popping the first morsel into her mouth. She chewed it with relish.

“Bear is not on the menu, I'm afraid,” Muriel teased, dropping into the print wingback and setting the tray on the footstool between them. Like Janice, she popped the morsel of a sandwich into her mouth and savored its taste. “One thing about ghost hunting,” she remarked, “it creates an astounding appetite.”

“Don't tell me the men are munching on finger sandwiches,” Janice exclaimed. She slipped a second wedge, this time egg salad, into her mouth.

“Those overgrown clods! They're devouring giant double-decker sandwiches and it is NOT a pretty sight!”

Janice took a second sip of Coke and gave Muriel a bemused smile.

“You're sounding chipper, Muriel.”

“I'm positively glowing,” she replied, “such mystery and intrigue!”

“You can't mean you're enjoying all this?” Ginger interrupted, shocked, her hand hovering over a tuna salad slice. “No one could possibly enjoy this insane captivity.”

“It's not a matter of enjoying it, Ginger. It's a matter of accepting the situation and adjusting to it. Once you do that, victory is possible.”

Janice wagged her head in agreement.

“You're right. We've got to accept the problem and confront it.”

“Confront Lisette?” Ginger choked. “We shouldn't get her mad, should we?”

Janice could see the genuine fright in Ginger's eyes as she spirited away a tiny slip of tuna salad from her lower lip.

“She's a kind spirit,” Janice reminded. “She's not dangerous, just determined. She wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“Is that why the men have let us have some breathing space?” Ginger asked. “I thought we were supposed to stay together.” She gave a familiar shiver.

Muriel bent over and patted her fingers.

“You can relax, my dear. Jasper's on watch. His precognition has returned and he's assured me that he'll know in plenty of time if we're about to encounter one of our ghosts.”

“Then why is Adrian afraid for Janice?” Ginger asked.

Afraid! The word chilled Janice and she took a long, cool sip of Coke, thinking on it. Why was Adrian afraid for her? Unsure, she inclined her head toward Ginger.

“Is he?”

“While we were fixing sandwiches a moment ago, he was comparing notes with Lloyd,” Muriel cut in. “Adrian's concerned about his apparent blackout as the baron … my dear, was he really the baron?” Muriel broke off, not quite used to the story yet.

“He was.”

Muriel clucked sympathetically, picking up the tale again.

“It worries him. He has no recollection of the takeover, while you, according to Adrian, had an extreme physical jolt and displacement as Lisette.”

Janice jiggled the ice against the side of her glass and watched the carbonation fizz.

“It's not as odd as it seems. Adrian uses his telepathic abilities daily. He has great practice moving in and out of the two worlds he lives in. I, on the other hand, have to wait for the other side to contact me with the message or picture.”

“So Lisette had no trouble breaking through your mental barriers,” Ginger surmised astutely. “Then why did she displace your mind?”

Janice dipped her head.

“I believe she felt if I experienced her pain and loneliness, I might be more agreeable to helping her. And from that, I might encourage all of you to help her.”

“And has she convinced you?” Muriel asked. “To help her, I mean?”

Janice felt as if a hand had closed around her throat. Was she convinced? Not if it meant surrendering her body to Adrian's masterful seduction. If only she could openly express her growing fear to the women. More and more, the solution to their freedom seemed to hinge on her and Adrian. Aware that Muriel was still waiting, she arched her eyebrow and gave a hesitant shrug. Muriel leaned forward.

“Let's be frank between us women. Something happened between you and Adrian when the glass shattered this evening at dinner. Adrian will only admit to seeing an image. I would like to know what that image was. In fact, I believe we all have a right to know. Though I pretend to be composed, I'm not. I don't relish being murdered in a crawlspace.”

Janice saw Ginger's apprehensive jerk at the image, and contained one of her own.

“Neither do I,” she agreed.

Muriel's frown deepened. “If you're hesitating to spare Ginger's feelings, we can't afford the luxury of being considerate at the moment. I sense what you saw was … embarrassing in some way?”

Janice lowered her voice.

“More unnerving than embarrassing. The image was an erotic one and extremely graphic.”

“The baron and Lisette,” Ginger exclaimed with a smile.

“That's what I thought at first, too,” Janice agreed, pleased to hear someone else jump to the most obvious conclusion.