The Kingdom

“Not that I know of.”

She sighed. “And I specifically asked her to keep an eye on you…in case you needed anything. I thought she might even be able to help you in the cemetery. She’s always on the lookout for odd jobs.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Thane said. “Tilly’s a hard worker. I’ll speak to her myself if you like.”

The blonde glided up beside Luna with a frown. “Forgive me…I couldn’t help overhearing. You’re referring to Tilly Pattershaw, I assume. She may be a hard worker, but I’d worry about her mental stability if I were you.”

“Bryn,” Luna admonished.

“Don’t Bryn me. I’m just saying what we’ve all thought for years. The woman is strange. Living out there in the woods for so long has affected her mind. When was the last time anyone saw her in town? I shudder to think what she lives on.”

“She’s not hurting anyone,” Thane said. “So I really don’t see the problem.”

“She may not be a problem yet, but that doesn’t negate the fact that she hasn’t been right since—”

“My goodness, where are my manners?” Luna interrupted. “Here we are going on and on, and you two haven’t even been formally introduced yet. Amelia, I’d like you to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends, Bryn Birch. You met her daughter, Sidra, at the library the other day.”

Before I could offer my hand, Bryn lifted her head, giving the effect of gazing down her nose at me. “Actually, I feel as though we’ve already met. You brought my daughter home yesterday. She and Ivy couldn’t stop talking about you.” She glanced at Luna. “They pretended to be sick so they could leave school early.”

“That doesn’t sound like Sidra,” Luna said.

“It’s that girl,” Bryn said scathingly. She turned back to me. “I’m certain you weren’t in any way complicit in their little scheme.”

“All I did was offer a ride. I drove them straight home.” I hated that I sounded so defensive, but Bryn Birch had a way about her. She was beautiful, cold, haughty and aloof—the embodiment of every quality I found intimidating. The perfect headmistress.

“Where did you pick them up?” she asked.

“At that little market off Main Street.”

“You don’t know where they’d been all afternoon?”

“They never said.”

She exchanged another glance with Luna, and at that moment, I wasn’t so certain I would have told her of their whereabouts even if I’d known. Both professionally and personally, she had every right to be concerned, but there was something very disturbing about her third degree. I wasn’t getting apprehension so much as suspicion.

The redhead joined us then and thrust out her hand. “Amelia, welcome! I’m Catrice Hawthorne.” Her handshake was warm and firm—a relief from the frostbite of Bryn’s interrogation—and her soft brown eyes sparkled with good humor. “Ever since Luna told us you were coming, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Oh…well…thank you.” Her effusive greeting caught me off guard.

“I’ve been reading your blog,” she said. “Digging Graves…such a clever name. You’re quite the celebrity, it seems.”

“Hardly. It’s just something I do in my spare time.”

“Well, I’d say it’s a very successful hobby. One of the videos you posted has over a million hits.”

“That’s from an interview I did in Samara, Georgia,” I said. “The camera captured reflected light over the cemetery and the footage made the rounds on ghost-hunting sites. It really had nothing to do with me.”

“Cat is something of a celebrity herself in these parts,” Luna said. “She’s a noted ornithologist and a very talented artist.”

“Translation—I’m a bird-watcher who paints,” Catrice said with a charming touch of self-deprecation.

“You’re far too modest.” Luna turned back to me. “One of her paintings hangs in the governor’s mansion. That’s quite an honor.”

“I’d love to see some of your work,” I said.

“Drop by my studio one of these days and I’ll give you a tour. But enough about me,” she said with a wink. “You haven’t met Hugh and his lovely wife.”

I felt Thane’s hand on my elbow then, and he gave it a little squeeze as he propelled me forward.

“Amelia, I’d like you to meet my uncle, Hugh Asher.”

I’d been aware of the man lurking in the background during the introductions, but I hadn’t gotten a proper look at him until now. I tried not to stare, but it wasn’t easy. He had the smooth, sophisticated looks of an old- timey movie star. Dark hair, dark eyes—a middle-aged Adonis with an easy smile and a restless virility that made me instantly wary.

“Welcome to Asher House,” he said graciously, and I almost expected him to lift my hand to his lips. I was grateful that he didn’t.

“Thank you for having me.” His features were so unnervingly perfect I felt compelled to search for a flaw as we shook hands. I found one in the softness of his jawline, another in the infinitesimal puffiness beneath his eyes that suggested a propensity for drink.

“My wife, Maris,” he said, moving aside to include the tiny woman who hovered behind him. The first thing I noticed was how much younger she was than her husband, closer to Thane’s age than Hugh’s. The second thing that caught my attention was the way she anchored herself to his side, her gaze flitting birdlike from me to the other women as if she felt threatened from all sides.

“Would you excuse us?” Thane asked, taking my arm again. “Amelia hasn’t met Grandfather yet.”

“Good luck with that,” Hugh Asher muttered as he lifted his drink.

“What did he mean by that?” I asked as we walked away.

“Don’t mind him,” Thane said with a shrug. “He and my grandfather have a difficult relationship. Come to think of it, I guess we all do—”

He broke off, his gaze going past my shoulder a split second before I felt a strange tingle at the base of my spine. I turned instinctively to the open French doors. Something had drifted in on the breeze. A whisper of that same evil…

Twelve

I saw nothing at first as I searched the outside shadows. Then a slight movement drew my gaze downward, and I could just make out the silhouette of a wheelchair. I wondered how long he’d been sitting out there in the gloom. Had he been watching us this whole time?

He glided in, the wheels making the faintest swish on the hardwood floor. Even seated, he looked tall and regal, immaculately attired in a dark suit that set off his silver hair. His face was thin and deeply lined, his eyes as black as soot. I could detect a faint resemblance to his son, but unlike Hugh, this man was far more imposing than handsome. And despite his age, there was no softness in the jawline, no weakness of any kind other than the withered legs half-hidden by a cashmere throw.

“Grandfather, I’d like you to meet Amelia Gray,” Thane said.

I went forward to greet him. “How do you do, Mr. Asher?”

He had been clutching a leather-bound book, and as he laid it aside, I caught a glimpse of gold tooling on the cover, an emblem that triggered some distant, elusive memory. Then it was gone as he took my hand in his, and that strange quiver traversed slowly from the base of my spine all the way up to the back of my neck. It was all I could do not to pull my hand from his.

“Leave us,” he commanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He means me,” Thane said.

“Oh…”

“How about that drink?” he asked cheerfully, unruffled by his grandfather’s bluntness. “What would you like?”