voice.
“I guess you could put it that way.” I scoured the table. “No one knew about that grave?”
“Why would we?” Hugh’s shrug was a little too casual. “You said yourself it’s secluded. Probably been there for ages. You walk far enough into these hills, you’re apt to stumble across any number of old graves.”
“But this one isn’t historical,” I said. “I’d guess it’s no more than twenty or thirty years old.”
He looked skeptical. “And how can you possibly know that? You said there isn’t an inscription.”
“I’m going by the style and condition of the marker. And I’ll tell you something else about that grave… someone does know about it. The site has been cared for over the years.”
“Cared for…how?” This from Luna.
“The ground has been scraped. Which is another curiosity, because that’s a tradition you don’t often find around here.”
“Fascinating,” Bryn said.
Maris stood abruptly, and the grate of her chair legs on the hardwood floor jarred me because I’d forgotten all about her.
Catrice touched her arm. “Are you all right? You look so pale.”
Maris’s hand fluttered to her forehead. “You’ll have to excuse me… . I feel a migraine coming on… .” She barely got the words out before she turned and fled the room.
There was an awkward pause, but I felt some of the tension deflate with her departure. I didn’t think it had much to do with Maris, though. Any disruption would have been welcomed.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Pell Asher snapped at his son. “Go see about your wife.”
Hugh looked as if he would have rather faced a firing squad, but he nodded and graciously excused himself from the table. My eyes were glued to Luna. I didn’t know her well enough to read her expression, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would have said she looked quite pleased with herself.
Thane used the interruption to make our excuses. “It’s getting late, and I did promise Amelia that tour of the library.”
“You’ll come again,” said Pell Asher.
It wasn’t a question or an invitation, but a foregone conclusion that once again put me on the defensive.
I inclined my head and murmured good-night. As we walked out of the room, I couldn’t help glancing back. Luna, Catrice and Bryn had all gathered around the old man much the way they’d done with Hugh earlier. I saw one of them stroke his arm while another replenished his wineglass. It was an odd, troubling scene, and I glanced away quickly, afraid of seeing too much.
The library smelled of dust, leather and old books, a scent that had comforted me since childhood. I paused just inside the door as I waited for Thane to turn on the light. Directly across the room, French doors opened into a garden, and I found myself searching for a pale face among the silhouettes of statues and topiary, even though I had no evidence that Asher House was possessed. Ghosts were drawn to people, not places. Entities craved the warmth and energy emanated by a living being, not the cold memories of a dying house. But if I’d learned anything during my brief time with a haunted man, it was that ghosts were no more predictable than humans.
The light came on, and I glanced around curiously. No specters, but plenty of shadows. And spiders, I thought with a shiver, my gaze lifting to the glimmering cobwebs hanging from the vaulted ceiling.
The space was large—cavernous, by my standards—but still seemed overly crowded with massive bookcases carved out of oak, and heavy furniture upholstered in distressed leather. There was a desk in the center of the room, a huge affair that rose on claw feet to face the fireplace. Several old hatboxes had been stacked at one end, and a brass reading lamp occupied the other. As my gaze slowly traveled the room, I saw globes, maps and a gigantic painting over the mantel of a proud and pampered bluetick coonhound. I crossed to the fireplace to have a closer look.
Thane came up behind me. “That’s Samson.”
“He’s beautiful,” I said, admiring the mottled coat.
“Was. He’s no longer with us.”
“Oh…I’m sorry. Was he your dog?”
“Grandfather’s.” He moved up beside me, his gaze still on the painting. “They were quite a pair. Samson was never far from Grandfather’s side. He was like a shadow. And then one day he up and disappeared.”
“Your grandfather must have been heartbroken.”
“Heartbroken?” He frowned. “I don’t know about that. But he was certainly livid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.”
“Angry with whom?”
“With me.” He glanced away but not before I saw the dart of warring emotions, the remnant of an old shame. “It was my fault.”
A chill feathered along my spine at that look on his face. I told myself to leave it alone, but, of course, I didn’t. “What happened?”
The green eyes darkened under a furrowed brow. “I took the dog into the woods one day without Grandfather’s permission. It was right after I first came here. I suppose he told you about that?”
“About the dog?” I deliberately misunderstood.
“No. About how I came to live with him.”
“He mentioned that your mother died when you were young.” I had no intention of telling him everything his grandfather had revealed to me about his past. It was just too awkward.
But he knew. I could hear a trace of bitterness in his voice despite the ghost of a smile. “You’re very diplomatic. I’m sure he gave you an earful. He makes no bones about the fact that I’m an Asher in name only.”
I remembered his grandfather’s insistence that blood and land were the strongest ties, and I wondered how many times Thane had been made to feel an outsider by that outdated sentiment. For some reason, I felt the need to reassure him. “He spoke very highly of you.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did.” He glanced back up at the painting, but the air between us was charged with something unpleasant. Obviously, his place in this household was a thorn that still pierced deeply. I could understand that feeling of displacement. I’d come to my parents as a baby, and even though I always knew they loved me, I’d sensed a detachment, a wall that I never quite managed to scale. The only place I ever felt truly at home was the cemetery. My graveyard kingdom.
I could feel Thane’s gaze on me. When I turned, he gave me a speculative smile, as though wondering where my mind had drifted. “Anyway, we were talking about Samson.”
“Yes.” I didn’t know why I suddenly felt breathless. He had a way of looking at me that, despite my own walls, made me feel vulnerable and a little self-conscious.
“We’d gone pretty far into the woods that day. He caught a scent and just took off. I called and called, but he wouldn’t come. He vanished and I never even heard a sound. I walked those trails for days and didn’t find anything more than a few drops of blood.”
“Samson’s blood?”
He shrugged. “We’ll never know. But if he was attacked, I can only assume it was something large enough to drag the body off without leaving a trace.”
I thought of the scars on Wayne Van Zandt’s face and that eerie howl I’d heard in the woods earlier. And suddenly I was very glad that I’d left Angus on the back porch. “Is it possible someone took him?”
“I’ve always wanted to believe that. Samson was a purebred, highly coveted in these parts. Someone could have taken him, but without making a sound? I don’t know…” He bent to light a fire. The kindling caught, and the flames began to crackle. I put out a hand, but the flickering warmth did little to chase away the chill of his words.
He straightened. “We should probably get started,” he said briskly.
