Penmort Castle (45 page)

The armoury was
filled with ancient weapons, and even more ancient flying pendants
which dripped in veritable rags from their poles, they were so old
and
way
cool. There was a billiards room with an enormous
billiards table. There were the inner and outer halls with their
colossal fireplaces that led to the huge dining room with a
gleaming table that sat twenty. There was the grand stair hall with
intricately carved balustrades and a grand piano at the foot. There
was also a study with an ornate carved desk that was so huge two
people could sleep on it without touching.

On the second
floor were bedrooms, many of them having their own sitting rooms,
dressing rooms and bathrooms. The second floor also held the
morning room, and the leather gallery filled with portraits of
Beaumarises past. Lastly, the second floor also held a beautiful,
cosy sewing room which was situated in a turret.

Fenella told
Abby the third floor held the now unused servants quarters, nursery
and school room. She explained as well that the rooms below the
ground floor were also mostly no longer utilised but had been, in
olden times, for the running the house, including the kitchens,
housekeeper’s and butler’s offices and quarters, a coal room,
laundry rooms, things like that.

Fenella said on
the first floor they’d missed the conservatory and library. As
these were Fenella’s favourite places, they were to be their final
destination.

They had made
it to the long, handsome, wood-panelled gallery, filled with
portraits of ancestors (and, Abby noted with some surprise and a
vague sense of alarm, that all the women were blonde and all the
men looked quite a bit like Cash).

Except, of
course, Alistair’s portrait, which was the largest of any and the
most pompous. Something about it, its size and the prominence of
place, turned Abby’s stomach.

“I know,” Honor
whispered beside her, obviously reading her thoughts, “makes you
sick, doesn’t it?”

Abby didn’t
speak but she nodded.

Then Honor
turned dancing eyes to Abby. “I wonder what Cash will do with
that
when he moves in?” she asked, motioning to the portrait
with her head.

“I hope he
burns it,” Abby murmured and Honor took her arm in both hands,
leaned into her and gave her arm a squeeze.

Then she
muttered, “I’ll bring the marshmallows,” and Abby couldn’t help it,
it was such a divinely evil comment, she laughed.

“This is my
favourite,” Fenella called and Honor and Abby moved toward Fenella
who was standing off the main gallery in a big bay window where
there were two, smaller portraits.

Abby walked up
to Fenella’s side and saw she was gazing at a man who looked,
shockingly, just like Cash.

It wasn’t an
old portrait. By his clothes you could see that it was recent, not
from this decade or the last, but not hundreds of years ago either.
And it wasn’t like any of the other formal poses of the other
pictures.

This man was a
man on the move, a man with energy, a man with a healthy appetite
for life. So healthy, he seized it by its throat and consumed
it.

How the artist
captured it, Abby had no idea. He was striding across a field,
Penmort resting grandly atop its tor in the distance. He had two
dogs at his heels, beautiful German Shepherds. He was in outdoor
clothing, tweed blazer with patches at the arms, boots over his
trousers, mud up the heels and ankles. He had broad shoulders, an
athletic build and you could tell he had a wide, strong gait, made
easy for him by having long legs. He held a shotgun, cocked open
and lying over his forearm, the gun butt tucked into his side.

The picture was
in profile, but the man was looking over his shoulder as if someone
had called him, or, perhaps, he was calling his dogs. Therefore,
the artist had been able to capture him full-face.

And he was
heart-stoppingly handsome.

On closer
inspection, he didn’t look just like Cash. There were subtle
differences. His forehead was broader, for one. He wore his hair
shorter, for another. The planes and angles of his face were harder
and sharper, but no less attractive.

But the
similarity was uncanny.

“Who is that?”
Abby asked.

“Anthony
Beaumaris,” Fenella answered and Abby’s body jerked at the
realisation she was gazing upon Cash’s father.

“My God,” she
breathed and she felt her chest constrict at the knowledge that
this man, this compelling, dynamic, striking man had had his life
cut short.

Something made
her lift her hand as if to touch the portrait, as if touching it
would mean she’d touch him, but when her finger was just
centimetres away, the scream began.

And it was just
as Honor described it. It was low, it was eerie and it was
sinister
.

Abby’s blood
ran cold.

Her hand
dropped and she turned wide eyes to Fenella and breathed, “What is
that?” even though she knew what it was.

Exactly what it
was.

“Go,” Fenella
whispered in a barely-there voice.

Abby blinked at
her. “Pardon?”

But Fenella was
looking over Abby’s shoulder, her face pale, her eyes frightened
and she shrieked, “
Go now!
”

Abby whirled
then froze when she saw Vivianna in the gallery, floating, the
tattered edges of her dress whipping around her viciously as if
they were in a frenzy, as if they could do harm. Her mouth was
opened emitting a scream that filled the very air. Her face was
bloodthirsty.

Her eyes were
on Abby.

“
Go!
”
Fenella screamed and Abby went.

She hadn’t been
stupid. This time she wore jeans and flats with rubber soles, good
for gripping and easy to run in.

And Abby ran.
She ran for dear life.

She skirted
Vivianna and made it out the door, to the hall and was flying down
the stairs, her breath coming in terrified pants, when Vivianna
formed in front of her.

Right in front
of her.

And Abby, to
her shock, ran into her like she was a solid, physical thing.

And to her
further stunned surprise, a burst of purple sparks shot out between
them, coming from the place where the amulet rested against Abby’s
chest.

Both Abby and
Vivianna flew backward. Abby, landing painfully on her hands,
Vivianna, arms wheeling and out-of-control, descended away from
Abby going nearly all the way down the flight of stairs.

Vivianna halted
her descent. She bent her head and looked at what appeared to be a
burn mark on her dress where Abby’s amulet had hit her.

Her head shot
up, her eyes narrowed on Abby, she opened her mouth and let out
another blood-chilling scream.

Then she shot
forward, straight toward Abby but Abby scrambled back up the steps,
crawling on all fours like a crab.

Even though
Abby moved, and fast, Vivianna was nearly on top of her when the
spirit was jerked back at the waist, her scream abruptly
halting.

“That’s it,
she-bitch, The McPherson has come to play!” Angus bellowed from a
dozen steps away. His hand held a strange whip, the end of it was
curled around Vivianna’s waist, he was reeling her in and Vivianna
was struggling against the bounds.

“Go lassie, I
got her,” Angus called.

“Abby! This
way!” Fenella shouted from the top of the stairs and Abby turned,
crawling up the stairs on all fours again, stumbling in a terrified
frenzy so she was sometimes using her knees and sometimes her
feet.

She got to the
top of the stairs and they heard a grunt. Honor was there too and
Abby, Fenella and Honor looked over the balustrade and down the
stairs to see Angus falling, his kilt awhirl, Vivianna drifting
after him.

“Angus!” Abby
screamed, not thinking and running toward the fallen Scotsman.

When she turned
on the landing, she saw Angus was at the bottom, on his side, his
head came up and he boomed, “No, lassie! Go the other way!”

But Abby kept
moving toward him and Vivianna came at her again. They collided,
the purple sparks flew and Vivianna reeled back. Apparently aided
by the velocity Abby was going, this time Vivianna went far
further, sailing down the stairs, past Angus, into and through the
inner hall and right
through
a wall.

Abby, however,
had been ready for it and when they collided, she shoved her foot
into the stairwell to keep herself steady and then threw herself
forward. She descended the rest of the stairs and crouched by
Angus.

“Are you hurt?”
she asked as she heard Fenella and Honor come rumbling down the
stairs behind her.

“Get her outta
here!” Angus roared.

“Are you hurt?”
Abby shouted.

“Let’s go. Go,
go, go, go,
go!
” Honor yelled, pulling Abby up but Vivianna
had melted back through the wall and was nearly upon them.

Abby’s hand
went to the leather around her neck. She yanked the necklace over
her head, threw it to the ground and stomped on it with her
heel.

A purple mist
immediately blew up, enveloping them. Abby bent low, her hands
grasping Angus under his armpit, she tugged up with superhuman
effort, got him to his feet and the four of them ran, awkwardly,
through the inner hall, into the outer hall, out the entrance lobby
and into the night. The whole time they ran, the purple mist
followed them.

And they kept
running, Abby dragging Angus, until they’d gone out the gate at the
side of the castle, down the steep hill, through the castle’s outer
wall, down a winding path into town and past several storefronts.
Once they hit town, the mist evaporated.

There, Angus
pulled Abby to a halt and stopped, bent over, hand to his side, and
wheezed.

“Are you okay?”
Abby asked, crouching low and looking up at him.

“Lassie,” he
rasped, took in a deep breath, then panted, “when I say go,” he
took in another breath and gasped, “you better bloody well
go!
”

They heard
running steps and Cassandra approached, stopping on a skid.

Abby stood up
and Cassandra’s eyes fell on her, dropping immediately to her
sweater.

“What
happened?” she asked.

“She attacked,”
Fenella told Cassandra.

Cassandra
looked at Angus. “Did you get her?”

“No I didn’t
get
her,” Angus snapped, straightening. “The she-bitch
bested me,” he looked mortified for a moment then bellowed, “She
bested A McPherson!”

“Be quiet,”
Honor hissed, “we’re in town.”

Abby turned to
Cassandra and announced, slowly, clearly and loudly, “Your… amulet…
rocked!
”

Cassandra
leaned back, put her hands on her hips and smiled. “Did the trick,
eh?”

“It
rocked!
” Abby repeated, incapable of further speech.

“I’m good with
a charm,” Cassandra informed her.

“Well, you
better make sure we all have some,” Angus announced. “Vivianna
knows she’s met her match. She might have been surprised Abby had
magic tonight, but she’ll no’ make that mistake again.”

Abby looked at
Fenella and Honor, her shoulders drooping, and she muttered,
“Great.”

“Don’t worry. I
have some other tricks up my sleeve,” Cassandra said so
confidently, Abby actually believed her.

Then, to her
surprise, Angus grinned at Abby, “Lucky for you, lass, now
I
know what
I’m
up against. And The McPhersons got more tricks
than a spirit-bitch-from-hell, believe you me.”

Fenella got
close and put her arm around Abby’s waist. “Well that sounds good,
doesn’t it?” she asked.

Abby, who would
vastly prefer not to be battling a ghost and that night she’d
learned
exactly
what that meant and it petrified her, had to
admit Fenella was right.

* * * * *

It didn’t occur
to Abby, until she quietly closed and locked Cash’s front door,
that she’d forgotten to phone him when she left the castle.

This wasn’t
surprising, considering she was
freaked out
when she’d left
the castle. And this freak out meant she had to concentrate on her
driving and, therefore, she hadn’t thought to call Cash. Instead,
her thoughts had centred on getting home in one piece.

It wouldn’t do
to survive Vivianna only to die in a tragic car accident.

Although it was
late, the castle more than an hour’s drive away, she wasn’t
surprised to see no light shining from upstairs but a light coming
from the back hall.

This indicated
Cash was downstairs, likely working, maybe drinking a whisky, maybe
getting concerned (or more likely angry) waiting for her call.

She took off
her coat and soundlessly hooked it on the banister with her purse
and she headed downstairs.

Her shoes were
quiet, the rubber soles making no noise.

This was how
she could get through the house and down the stairs without Cash
hearing.

Or, more to the
point, this was how she could get through the house and down the
stairs without Cash
and
Suzanne hearing.

For Suzanne was
there.

Abby knew this
because, four steps from the bottom, she turned her head and she
saw them in the kitchen.

She saw them in
the kitchen, embracing.

More than
embracing.

One of
Suzanne’s arms was locked around Cash’s neck, her other hand in his
hair, her body was pressed to his. His hands were gripping her
waist just above her hips. Her lips were on his, his were on hers
and both of their mouths were open.

Abby felt her
heart clench as her stomach lurched and neither of these felt
good.

In any way.

So,
unfortunately, when she spoke, her voice held a fierce tremor that
betrayed her emotion when she asked what was supposed to come out
coolly, “Am I interrupting something?”