Haunted Read online

  She fell almost instantly and soundly into a deep sleep.

  And that’s when she was awakened.

  Darcy’s head jerked up, because a silent scream seemed to enter into her mind, pierce through her subconscious, and seize her attention with a start. She looked around in the night as if she had been rudely prodded by a fire poker.

  And there she was, a woman in a silver nightgown, standing in the doorway, hand to her throat in terror, issuing that silent scream.

  Darcy saw the image in the dim and hazy light, saw the woman trying to bolt the door, but the force behind it, trying to enter from the hall, kept her from doing so. Then the woman came racing toward the bed, and for a moment, her eyes met Darcy’s. There was a terrible plea within them. Help me!

  It was as if the woman saw her there as well, and the plea was as silent as the scream, heard only in Darcy’s head. But God, that scream! It sounded again within her mind, and the woman’s beautiful lips moved, beseeching Darcy to hear her. But she couldn’t understand the words; she knew only that they were desperate.

  Because this wraith was running from death.

  The killer, Darcy sensed, was coming from behind the woman. From the hallway. The bedroom door now burst open. Darcy could make out a hazy image of someone large and shadowy, shielded by the night, coming forward.

  Toward the woman.

  Then, above the woman’s shoulder, she saw the flash of the knife, as clearly as if a spotlight hit the blade, and glinted from it.

  The scream sounded again…more terrible than ever.

  And the knife…

  The knife flashed above Darcy.

  She wasn’t easily frightened. She communicated with the dead after all.

  She sought them out.

  But that night…

  The malevolence was so strong, the danger seemed so real. The blade…it was threatening her, and she knew it.

  She struggled for calm, for sanity, trying to convince herself that she was seeing nothing but an image from the past. There was no knife wielded by a dark and deadly murderer. Not now…what she saw was nothing but an image from the past.

  But it moved again, glinting, and…dripping.

  Dripping blood.

  And she was terrified suddenly that if it touched her…

  Darcy sprang from the bed, screaming herself. The image wasn’t fading, it wasn’t a whisper, a hint of what had happened. It was pure evil. And something deeper than her intuition, than her acceptance, than any peace or calm she might have garnered over the years, deserted her completely. Terror, older and more basic than any human emotion, lit into her. She raced beneath the images, and tore out of the room, shrieking herself as she tore out of the room.

  Darcy ran down the stairs, mindlessly fleeing.

  She came to the landing and it was there that she heard her name shouted. She had probably been called several times before the sound had made its way through to her conscious thought.

  Darcy stopped dead still, sanity filling her mind as quickly as it had deserted it.

  She could have kicked herself, thoroughly.

  It was Matt Stone calling her name, rushing down the stairs. He was in boxers and a robe, haphazardly cast over his shoulders.

  Even as she saw him appear at the top of the stairway, Penny, gray hair tousled, came rushing behind him in a pair of pajamas.

  The front door burst open as Carter, Clint slamming into his back, appeared.

  It was uncanny, almost as bizarre as the dream, or reality, she had just experienced, the way they all appeared so quickly, the entire household, within minutes. She almost felt as threatened, watching as Matt and Penny came down, and Clint and Carter came forward, and they gathered in the foyer at the foot of the stairs, alarmed, and then, as they saw her, saw that she was fine, disgruntled.

  Matt Stone’s eyes were hard and suspicious.

  “The Lee Room sent you racing out in a panic?” Matt said, an edge of derision in his tone. “I thought you were the great ghost hunter.”

  Clint was kinder. “Are you all right, Darcy?”

  She stared at Matt. “Yes, and I’m terribly sorry. I must have had a nightmare.”

  “Ghosts don’t scare her—nightmares do,” Matt murmured.

  Penny was staring at her sagely. “You saw the lady in white.”

  Carter let out a long sniff. “Oh, Penny! I used to spend a lot of time in that room. I never saw any lady in white.”

  “I’ve seen her, Clara Issy has seen her, and she sent a bride running out of that room naked as a jaybird!” Penny said indignantly.

  Matt stared hard at Penny, Carter, and Clint, one by one, then turned around, starting up the stairs. “Tapping on a table is one thing,” he said irritably. “But if you two have rigged that room somehow…”

  “Matt, jeez, dammit, I wouldn’t do that!” Clint protested angrily.

  “I sure as hell wouldn’t! I don’t believe in the damned spooks!” Carter said.

  “I believe in them wholeheartedly. They are here,” Penny said indignantly. Matt had already started up the stairs. Darcy watched as the others all rushed back up the stairs behind him. She followed, protesting.

  “Look, I had a dream. A nightmare. I woke you all. I’m sorry.”

  Matt didn’t appear to hear her. He slammed against the door of the Lee Room, causing it to open all the way. He, Carter, and Clint walked in. Where, of course, nothing was disturbed, and nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

  Matt, however, appeared determined. He threw open the closet door and carelessly rummaged through her hung clothing, looking for what in the small space, she didn’t know. He looked under the bed, then walked to the balcony doors, throwing them open as well. He walked out on the balcony, then came back in, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at Darcy.

  “Just exactly what did you see?”

  “I didn’t see anything,” she lied. “I had a dream. That’s all. And I’m sorry. Terribly sorry.”

  “I don’t think you should sleep in here anymore.”

  She felt a flicker of the fear returning, but held her ground.

  “I need to sleep in here.”

  “Why? You can explore this room—or do whatever the hell it is that you do—by day.”

  Darcy shook her head. “Look, once again, I’m really, really sorry. This won’t happen again. I swear it.”

  “No.”

  “Aw, Matt, you’re just down the hall,” Clint said, championing Darcy.

  She flashed him a smile of gratitude, despite the fact that his words didn’t seem to help any.

  “No,” Matt repeated stubbornly.

  “Look, I swear to you, I’m really not a mincing little coward. I had a dream, and it gave me a terrible start. But I need to stay in that room. All right, Matt, I disturbed you. And I realize that you’re the sheriff and you have a day job, and I’m really, truly, sorry.”

  “Matt!” Penny put in.

  “We can make a deal. If I come running out again, for any reason, I’ll bow to your decision and get out of the room,” Darcy said. She was pleading with a man who now wore a grim expression on his face. She hated pleading with him.

  She didn’t intend to leave the Lee Room, though. Yes, she’d been scared out of a few years of life, but that might have been the exact intention of the malignant presence. She had lived with her gift for a long time. She could still be frightened, but she knew her own strengths.

  She wouldn’t let it happen again. She wouldn’t give way to the fright.

  “Matt,” Carter suggested sagely, “you’re one stubborn cuss, but so is Miss Tremayne. If any one of us is going to get back to sleep, I suggest you let her go back to bed in the Lee Room. Remember, you’re the one who doesn’t believe in spooks.”

  “But I do believe in the ability of man to do evil,” Matt said, staring at Darcy.

  “You’re right down the hall,” she reminded him quietly. “Actually, the next room, I believe. At least, the office part of yo
ur suite.”

  “All I need is something to happen to you!” he muttered.

  “Bad for business?” she inquired sharply. “I assure you, I’m not going to become another ghost of Melody House,” she assured him. “And I’m adult, responsible to myself.”

  “Yes, bad for business. And not only that, but whether you like it or not, I am responsible to Adam Harrison for you.”

  Just how well did he know Adam, Darcy wondered. “Adam sent me,” she reminded him, outraged. “He knows that I can deal with anything that happens.”

  “Um. Deal with it—by being terrorized and terrified?”

  “It won’t happen again,” she repeated stubbornly. She was disturbed to realize that they had an audience for this discussion, and she was beginning to feel as if she were a child having an argument with an adult.

  But apparently, she was winning.

  He threw up his hands and turned away. Clint gave her a grin and a thumbs-up sign. Carter, too, was smiling beneath his beard. Only Penny looked a little perplexed.

  “You are sure you’re going to be okay?” Penny asked softly.

  “Absolutely,” she assured the woman.

  “Well, then, I’m going back to bed,” Carter said. He gave Darcy a wink. “I know the room well. It’s brick and mortar, and nothing else.”

  “Another true disbeliever,” Penny muttered.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am,” Clint teased, “You’ve got a threesome of Southern gentlemen here, not only offering charm, but all our valiant resources in whatever way you may need. We’ll be happy to kick ghost butt for you at any time.”

  Penny let out a sound between a moan and groan. “Get out of here, go back to the stables and get to bed, both of you. You just wait until one of the ghosts does decide to make an appearance before you boys. You’ll be sorry then!”

  “Oooh!” Carter said.

  It looked as if Penny was about to strike him.

  “We’re going, we’re going,” Clint said. He turned toward the stairway, then told Darcy, “Seriously, if Matt doesn’t make it to the rescue quickly enough, all you’ve got to do is whistle.”

  “Good night, then,” Darcy said, smiling at Penny and eyeing Matt. “Honestly, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  He nodded, and walked back into his own room.

  Penny was left alone to stare at Darcy. “They are real, and I know it!” Penny told her.

  Darcy smiled. “We have to find out just what is going on.” She hesitated. “When the dead become violent or destructive, it’s because they want us to know something.”

  Penny shivered. “I’m here for you!” she said valiantly. But her words came with a shiver.

  “Honestly, I’m all right,” Darcy assured her.

  “It’s getting worse and worse,” Penny said. She glanced at the closed door to Matt’s room. “Maybe he’s right. Perhaps you should sleep somewhere else, and spend time during the day in the Lee Room.”

  “Penny, this is what I do!” she reminded the woman. “I was taken by surprise tonight. Startled by the force of…my dream. But it’s okay. Really.”

  Penny looked at her worriedly and sighed softly.

  “I swear.” Darcy gave Penny a little kiss on the cheek, and slipped back into her room.

  She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. The room’s temperature seemed completely normal, the air as clear as a mountain morning. She was certain that she’d experienced all she was going to for one evening. And now that the fear had receded, she was all right. Stronger, more prepared. And more determined and angry.

  Melody House held many haunting secrets. But it seemed evident now that the lady in white was a victim of a deadly violence in the past, and the truth regarding her murder had never been discovered.

  Darcy rinsed her face with cold water, surveyed her surroundings once again, and lay back down.

  She began to doze.

  Then, once again, she bolted up, wide-awake.

  She felt the room, but there was nothing. And yet, something had awakened her.

  She slipped from the bed. The doors to the balcony were open; the drapes drifted in a soft and eerie white wave. Standing very still next to the bed, Darcy searched the shadows for an visions or apparitions.

  Silence, nothing…

  She walked to the open doorway to the balcony, ran her hands over the drapes. As she started out to the balcony there was a shift in the breeze. The white gauzy fabric of the drapes wrapped around her as she was seized by powerful and forceful arms, trapped in a vise of merciless strength.

  5

  As they climbed the stairs to the apartments above the stables, Carter looked at Clint suspiciously.

  “How did you do it?” he asked.

  Clint looked at him, startled. “Do what?”

  “The tapping.”

  “I wasn’t doing the tapping. I thought it was you.”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Maybe the ghosts,” Clint said lightly.

  “You believe in the ghosts now?” Carter asked, amused.

  Clint was silent a minute. “Penny,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Penny!” Carter said.

  “She’s the one who wants to prove that Melody House has ghosts,” Clint reminded him.

  “Yeah, but can you see Penny staging a bunch of tapping noises?”

  “Why not?” Carter asked with a shrug.

  “There’s Elizabeth—the medium,” Clint suggested with a laugh. “She needed to prove herself—especially with a real ghost buster in the room.”

  “Um,” Carter mused. “And what do you think of our ghost buster racing out in the middle of the night, just like the young bride?”

  Clint grinned slowly. “I think it’s a shame she didn’t race out naked like the bride. That is one exciting woman.”

  “Mind your manners, son,” Carter said, but he was amused as well. He shrugged. “It just strikes me as strange, all this. Darcy Tremayne is no flighty young bride. The woman is all cool sophistication—and yes, too bad she didn’t come down in the buff, just like the bride. But there’s got to be something going on.”

  “You are starting to believe in ghosts,” Clint said, scoffing.

  Carter shook his head. “Nope. I’m starting to agree with Matt that someone is somehow playing tricks in the Lee Room. And I’d damned well like to know why.”

  “Maybe people just feed off the fears and beliefs of others,” Clint said, impatient. He grinned. “You and I have both enjoyed that room, a hell of a lot. Even Matt. Before the place was really opened up the way it is now, when Matt’s granddad was still living and went in and out of Washington all the time. Hell, I had some of my best nights there. Nothing like impressing a young woman with a real historical house, a seduction in pure luxury—with the threat of a ghost to make her all warm and cozy.”

  Carter nodded after a moment. “Yep, I’ve had my share of nights there.”

  “And no ghosts?”

  “And no ghosts,” Carter agreed.

  “So—forget it.”

  “Hard to forget when we’re hosting ghost busters.”

  Clint shrugged. “You know, I have to admit that, over time, I’ve heard from plenty of people that they have seen things. Clara Issy is as rock-solid and sane a woman as you’re ever going to find. And she saw something in the Lee Room. And I’ve heard other guests swear that they’ve seen a soldier walk through the parlor.”

  Carter laughed. “Yeah, I remember one occasion. And the couple did see a Rebel soldier walk through the room—he was headed out to take part in a battle re-enactment at Cold Harbor. Hell, I dressed up one time for a Civil War forum and scared half the people I knew.”

  “The point being?”

  “There is usually a logical explanation for ghosts.”

  “All right, I grant you that. So?”

  “So, I think someone is playing tricks. And if it’s not you, and it’s not me…then who? And why?” he asked.

  “I
don’t know,” Clint said. He hesitated. “But I’d damned sure like to find out just who and why myself.”

  With their guest in the house, Penny had taken up residence in the Stuart Room. It was two doors down from the Lee Room, in the ell on the left side of the house.

  With both Matt and Darcy having returned to their rooms, Penny found herself standing indecisively in the hallway.

  Might as well go back to bed. There was nothing else to do.

  But she shook her head, staring at Matt’s door. What on earth had to happen for him to realize that he had something very special in this house? Oh, he loved the house, and was a great one for historical value, she gave him that.

  But they had something even…better. And more unique.

  Turning her attention to Darcy’s door, she folded her arms over her chest and swore softly beneath her breath. Why wouldn’t the young woman just say what had happened? There were ghosts in this house. It was a fact. And certainly, it might be hard to prove it to the world, but there was no reason for Matt to fail to believe, to fail to use the experiments and happenings here to enrich the legends that already abounded. It would be so wonderful to be a real center of attention for a public that loved such stories.

  Just what on earth was she going to have to do to prove her point?

  She sighed and walked down the hall to her own room, opened the door, and then hesitated once again.

  “I’m here! I’m listening!” she said aloud. “Talk to me, whoever, whatever, you are. I’ll get your story out!”

  She waited, looking around the hall.

  But the ghosts apparently had nothing to say to her.

  “I don’t care if you pull my hair—or if you want to slap me in the face! Hey, leave the others alone. I’m ready. I’ll help you.”

  Still, there was nothing. The hall remained silent.

  All right, seriously, just what on earth was she going to have to do?

  With a disgusted sniff, she pressed the door open and went on into bed.

  Darcy was caught in a terrible grip, all but smothered in the hold and the voluminous wealth of gauzy drapes tangled around her. Instinctive fear had seized hold of her as well, and she was ready to struggle, fight, and scream.