Читать книгу The Devil's Eye - Dawn Brown - Страница 10

Chapter Four

Brynn stared into the glowing eyes like a bird caught in the thrall of a snake. Hate and rage emanated from the man-shaped thing, a tangible force wrapping around her and squeezing the breath from her lungs.

Run!

But she couldn’t move. Every muscle had seized under the burning red glare.

A dream. Some rational part of her brain tried desperately to convince the rest of her. It had to be a dream. She squeezed her eyes shut and started to count.

One, two…

When she opened her eyes it would be gone—

…three, four, five…

—and she would laugh at how crazy real it seemed.

…six, seven…

Whatever she thought she saw was probably just stress.

…eight, nine…

Some remnant of her nightmare.

…ten.

She opened her eyes. The shadow loomed beside her bed, black delight radiating like a living pulse from its murky form.

She tried to swallow, but her throat had shriveled. Icy sweat coated her skin. Drawing a trembling breath, she eased her hand out from beneath the blankets, eyes locked with the two glowing orbs, afraid that breaking contact, even for a moment, would somehow allow the thing to pounce. Her fumbling fingers bumped the porcelain lamp, sending it teetering sideways.

No, no, no. Please don’t break.

She grabbed the shade and caught the lamp before it went over, then pressed the switch. Brilliant light flooded the darkness. She squinted against the sudden glare. When she turned back to the shadow man, he was gone.

“What the hell?” She kicked free of the blankets and slid from the bed. Frigid air wrapped around her like a shroud, seeping through her thin shorts and T-shirt. Goose bumps stippled her skin.

Where did he go? He couldn’t have just vanished.

She hurried to the door. Locked, just as she’d left it. She turned the latch, pulled back the door and poked her head into the hall. Darkness spread out on either side of her like black curtains, leaving her unable to see anything past the faint pool of light spilling from her room. She shut the door and turned the lock once more.

So what exactly had she seen?

Had there been a man in her room? A man with glowing red eyes? Not likely. So what did that leave? A ghost? Of course not. She didn’t believe in ghosts. Whatever she’d seen, the real question was, where did it go?

She glanced around the bedroom, her gaze falling on the wardrobe. No way. She didn’t actually believe someone was hiding in her closet, did she? Of course not. Still, she crossed the room, closed her trembling fingers around the brass handles and yanked both doors wide.

Ha! Empty. Just like she knew it would be.

Oh, yeah? Then why is your heart ready to burst out of your chest, and your legs like rubber?

She closed the doors and leaned back against them. She was being ridiculous. She must have imagined…

Bathroom!

Brynn hurried to the en suite, pushed open the door and slid her hand up the wall until her fingers found the switch. The small space filled with light.

Nothing.

She looked behind the bathtub, then behind the door.

No one. She was completely alone.

* * *

A sharp jab just below his left kidney dragged Reece up through layers of sleep. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shifted on the lumpy mattress and rolled onto his side, willing himself to drift off again before he woke fully.

Dull stabbing bloomed at his hip.

“Bloody hell.” That blasted spring was like a medieval torture device especially designed to drive him mad. With a muttered curse, he threw back his thin blankets and glanced at the clock next to his bed. Five-twenty. Well, he’d managed ten minutes longer than yesterday. He should be glad for that, at least.

He padded across the cold wood floor and snagged his jeans from the chair next to the window. As he tugged them on, he peered out into the pre-dawn darkness. Stonecliff stood out like a black lump against the brightening sky. Stark and austere, in its day the manor’s stone walls, peaked windows and sheer size had made it a work of gothic grandeur. Some might still see it that way despite its aging facade, but not him.

He hated that house. He shouldn’t. There were no voices here, no apparitions. Stonecliff was the one place he could let down his carefully trained guards and only silence greeted him. But the quiet was unnatural, like the swelling pressure that built in his head just before his ears popped.

Goose bumps studded his skin and his insides tightened. There was something wrong with this place. Malevolence hovered like a dark cloud. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear there was a presence here. There wasn’t, of course. He’d know if there were.

Reece tugged a long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. What the hell did it matter? He should be glad of the peace for a change. It was the only good thing to come out of this mess.

He left the cell-like bedroom, clicked on the lamp next to the worn settee and crossed to the kitchenette. The L-shaped bank of cupboards didn’t offer much in the way of meal preparation. Three square meals provided at the main house were among the perks of working at Stonecliff. Still, the toaster oven, half-sized fridge and coffee maker left him with enough options he could avoid Mrs. Voyle’s cooking for the most part.

The kitchen opened to the rest of the flat. Not that there was much more. A settee with fraying orange flower-patterned fabric, a couple of scratched faux-wood tables and a black-and-white telly all that furnished the small space.

He missed his own flat, quiet and filled with his things. He wasn’t a rich man, but he’d created a comfortable den for himself. There were times when the voices would come, the figures would appear, but he could usually hold them at bay. And when he couldn’t, there was no one to see anyway.

Reece took the coffee tin from the cupboard, ready to begin his morning ritual, but set it down on the counter instead. Frustration hummed beneath his skin, leaving him restless, edgy. Agreeing to this ridiculous plan, he’d merely traded one prison cell for another.

How in the hell had he wound up in this mess? But he already knew the answer. He hadn’t really believed he could lie and cheat people and get away with it, had he? The wheel of karma turned slowly, but it turned all the same. Now, here he was, at last paying for the things he’d done. Caught in some crazy scheme with a man driven half-mad by his own obsession.

The same man he’d stood up last night thanks to Brynn James.

How had she managed her first night at Stonecliff? Unease gnawed at his insides with jagged little teeth. What if she’d disappeared through the night, vanished like the others?

Cold settled low in his gut and he shoved his hand through his hair. She wasn’t his problem. Lord knew he had enough of his own.

Still, he thought of her last night, stretched across her bed, that deep copper hair spread out around her head, eyes dark and sleepy when they met his. A surge of lust had slammed into him like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Bloody hell, he was thinking like some sex-starved adolescent.

No wonder, really. He hadn’t been with a woman for nearly six months. He wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships, uncomfortable making promises he wasn’t capable of keeping. He’d had a pleasant arrangement for a while with a woman who worked at the shop down the road from the boatyard. Newly divorced, she was in no hurry to get seriously involved with anyone, just looking for a bit of fun while her kids were with her ex. Or so he thought until she’d suggested he meet her children, forcing him to put an end to their arrangement.

He doubted Brynn would be content with just sex. She’d certainly want someone stable, a house in the suburbs, a couple of kids. For some reason the image annoyed him.

He left the kitchen and made his way to one of the dormer windows that faced the house, ducking so he wouldn’t crack his head off the sloped ceiling. Outside, the sky had lightened to bleak gray.

If Brynn wanted to put herself in harm’s way to get something out of her dying father, it was none of his business. Still, someone should tell her what was happening at Stonecliff, warn her of all the wicked things her sister had done.

Of course, if he warned Brynn and she told Eleri, or Eleri overheard, he’d be out on his ass and very possibly facing a prison cell.

Could that bastard really see him locked up? Even if he couldn’t, the charges alone would assuredly destroy the life he’d built.

Through the glass, Mrs. Voyle’s small, blue hatchback pulled into the courtyard and parked near the kitchen entrance. Now, there was opportunity knocking if he’d ever heard it. Mrs. Voyle enjoyed few things more than a good rant about her employers, and from what he’d overheard, the housekeeper had her suspicions about Brynn’s timely arrival and Eleri’s motivations for bringing her here. If he pushed just the right buttons…

Reece pulled on his jacket and shoved his feet into his work boots. He’d go down for his breakfast. Maybe dig up something for his blackmailer, and if he could catch Brynn alone, warn her about Eleri.

Surely, he could tolerate the housekeeper’s cooking long enough to get what he needed.

He thudded down the stairs and out the side door of the coach house. Wet wind off the sea slapped his hands and face as he hurried across the courtyard to the back door. Drizzle clung to his hair and jacket, cold settling into his bones.

Three days of frigid rain and wind. He’d never be warm again at this rate. If he stayed here much longer, he wouldn’t have to worry about prison, or his past destroying his present, or a madwoman murdering him. He’d be dead from pneumonia first.

He pushed open the back door and stepped into a small utility room. The smoky scent of sausage wafted in from the kitchen. His stomach growled despite the revulsion welling inside him. The food might smell good, but he knew from experience the meat would be charred on the outside and raw in the middle.

As he entered the kitchen, Mrs. Voyle’s shrill voice stopped him midstride. “You get those boots off, Reece Conway. I’ll not have you dirtying my floor with mucky footprints.”

He looked down at his feet. His boots had already left wet tracks on the gleaming checkerboard tile.

“Sorry,” he muttered, toeing off each boot, “I forgot.”

Mrs. Voyle sniffed, but returned her attention to the meat in the pan, while he dropped his boots onto a rubber mat next to the door in the utility room, then wiped up his mess with a handful of paper towel.

“If you’ve come for your breakfast, you’ll have to wait. It’s not ready yet.” Mrs. Voyle poked at the sausage simmering in a layer of grease. He managed to suppress a shudder.

“That’s all right.” Reece tossed the sopping towels in the rubbish bin. “Is the coffee made?”

She nodded to the machine on the counter. “Help yourself. What are you about coming in so early?”

He shrugged and ambled over to the coffeepot. “I’ve a lot to do today.”

“I suppose you will after all this rain.”

Reece took a mug from the cupboard in front of him, poured the sludgelike liquid and rolled his eyes. The woman couldn’t even make coffee right.

Gripping the steaming cup, he leaned back against the counter and eyed the tight-faced woman. How to get her on the subject of Eleri and the missing men without appearing too eager? He’d have to say something soon. The longer he stayed, the more he’d have to eat.

“Eleri was very specific about wanting the grounds tidied before noon,” he ventured.

The housekeeper snorted and spooned watery eggs into a serving dish. “Eleri will be too busy with Meris’s daughter to be bothered with you today.”

“I didn’t realize Mr. James had another daughter.”

Mrs. Voyle wiped her hands on her grease-dotted apron, and shot him a hard stare. “If Mr. James has any sense left, he’ll toss that one out on her backside. Just like her mother. Hand out, ready to take what she can. Do you know about Meris?”

He shrugged. “A few things.”

“She was a piece of work that one, chasing after Mr. James like a bitch in heat. He was still married, you know? Crazy Enid might have been, but having that red-headed witch throwing herself at her husband certainly hadn’t helped matters. She had her accident only days after Meris told Mr. James she was pregnant.”

Reece had heard talk of Eleri’s mother’s death. It was part and parcel of the ever-growing legend that surrounded Eleri. And like so many of the stories there was more than one version. Some claimed Enid James took her own life when she realized the child she’d produced was evil, while others claimed Eleri managed to convince her mother to kill herself with her nefarious powers. The official report stated that Enid had died due to misadventure, having lost her footing while walking the cliffs.

“Enid knew about the affair?”

“She’d have to have been a simpleton not to. Mr. James was so bewitched by Meris he had her living in the house. That woman knew what she wanted, and exactly how to get it.”

He frowned. There were richer men out there. “All this because Meris had been after Mr. James’s money?”

Mrs. Voyle chuckled and turned back to the stove. A plume of gray smoke wafted from the charred sausage in the pan.

“She wasn’t interested in his money.” The housekeeper turned a knob on the cooker, and the blue flame beneath the pan vanished. “Meris wanted Stonecliff. Claimed she was related to the original family who owned the property.”

“The Jameses didn’t always own Stonecliff?”

Mrs. Voyle scooped out the blackened sausage into another serving dish. “No, Mr. James’s great-uncle built this house nearly a hundred years ago. But before that, the Worthings owned the land. The entire family was killed in a fire. Took the house, too. Have you not come across the ruins during your work?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t. Where are they?”

“Deep in the woods, near The Devil’s Eye.” She set a lid on the tray. “It’s probably for the best. The grounds are haunted.”

Reece snorted before he could stop himself. Mrs. Voyle glared at him over her shoulder.

“People say this place is haunted, too. I haven’t seen any ghosts.” He kept his smirk fixed in place and his tone light, so she wouldn’t know just how serious he was. Years of swindling people had taught him a lot about body language. The more he appeared to consider the whole thing a joke, the harder the housekeeper would try to convince him otherwise.

“Not haunted,” the woman said, holding his gaze. “Cursed. This land is cursed.”

“Because of the people who disappeared?”

She turned back to the stove and covered the sausage platter. “The disappearances are just the tip of the iceberg. How else can you explain Mr. James’s misfortunes? Two dead wives. Failing investments. Oh, things get better for a while, but they always crumble in the end. And now with that Matthew Langley…” She snatched the spatula from the counter and whirled to face him, waving the utensil like a witch waving a wand. “You mark my words, they’ve found one dead man. There’ll be more.”

Did she actually know something about what happened to the men who’d vanished, or was the woman merely relishing in the story? “Why do you stay?”

She jerked a shoulder. “We all have to eat, haven’t we? Mr. James pays more than a fair wage. There’s evil here, granted, but it doesn’t want me. You, though…”

“Afraid I might disappear like the others?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain amused despite the cold prickling the back of his neck. “You shouldn’t worry. I don’t.”

“You wouldn’t—too young and full of yourself. Still, you’re not a bad sort. We’ve certainly had worse working here.”

Like Matthew Langley? Reece had heard stories about his predecessor. And a con man could always recognize another con man. “What do you think happened to the men who disappeared?”

“I think they’re dead.” Mrs. Voyle’s dark eyes held his. “The house takes what it wants. It always has.”

* * *

Brynn stood with Eleri outside the pocket doors separating Arthur’s siting room from his bedroom. Nerves fluttered in her throat and she wiped her damp palms on her pants. What did she have to be so nervous about? He was the one to ignore her for the past twenty-three years. He was the one who owed her an explanation, who should be nervous.

Eleri hesitated before sliding open the door. “He’s not a nice man.”

Knots tangling Brynn’s insides squeezed. She swallowed hard. “Thanks for the warning.”

Eleri pushed open the doors and Brynn entered the dimly lit room. Silence closed in on her, except for the low hiss from the oxygen tank next to the bed. The sour odor of sickness combined with a sterile hospital-like smell sent a sharp pang slicing across her middle. For an instant, she was back in her grandfather’s hospital room, watching helplessly as he wasted away. She swallowed hard and shook the memory away, making a concentrated effort to breathe through her mouth. The doors slid closed with a thunk behind her.

“If you’re coming in, come in.” She jumped at the man’s raspy voice.

Nice to see you, too, Dad.

She let out a slow breath and squared her shoulders, then crossed the room to a chair next to his bed—getting her first look at her father in more than twenty-five years.

He met her gaze with her own dark brown eyes—Eleri’s eyes, too. His thinning white hair was cut short to his head, gaunt features sharp, pointed, much like her sister’s. His sallow skin grooved around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. Propped into a sitting position with pillows, heavy blankets hid his lower body. Long clear tubes coiled from the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth to the tank on the floor. Despite the telltale signs of illness, he sat stiff and regal.

Brynn held her breath, waiting for some spark of recognition.

Nothing.

Her heart sank. He might as well have been a complete stranger.

He shoved his oxygen mask aside and nodded to the empty chair next to the bed. “Sit.”

Sit? Really? Twenty-three years and the best he could come up with was sit? She hadn’t been expecting them to fall into each other’s arms, or that he’d crumple to his knees and beg for her forgiveness—okay, maybe she’d been hoping for something like that—but she had expected something more than sit.

She swallowed down her hurt and stiffened under the man’s glare. “I’m fine where I am.”

He let out an impatient sigh. “Eleri overstepped herself. She’d no right to bring you here without my knowledge. There’s nothing for you, know that from the start.”

Perfect. Reece had been right. He did think she was after his money. He’d let her go through life believing he was dead, never once tried to contact her, but she was the bad guy here? “I don’t want anything. Eleri contacted me because you were ill—”

“And you came to see what you could get.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, fingernails digging into her palms. “No. I’d been told you were dead. When I found out that wasn’t the case, I wanted to meet you.”

He let out a dry bark of laughter that sounded more like he was choking. She wished he were choking. “You thought I would finally be the father you always wanted? That we’d become a happy little family? I made my peace with you when you left.”