The Kingdom

of my heart in my ears.

The ghost was there, somewhere behind me in the dark. I could feel the chill of her presence creeping up my spine. For a moment, I thought she might even have touched me… .

Freya.

The name came to me so sharply, I was jolted by my certainty. I didn’t move, of course, didn’t outwardly react at all. I remained rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed on the lake as my pounding heart sent a surge of blood to my temples. I felt a little light-headed from the strain of a suppressed shudder. Why such a strong reaction to this ghost? Why was she so different from the others?

Somewhere off to my left, Angus growled, and I knew that he’d seen her, too. Or at least sensed her. His reaction gave me an excuse to turn, and I whirled toward the sound of his snarl, calling to him in a voice steadied by years of ghost sightings.

“What is it, boy? What do you see?”

She was right there. Directly behind me.

So close, dear God, my breath frosted on the night air. The cold that emanated from her nebulous silhouette was almost unbearable. It took everything in me to silence my chattering teeth.

I wanted to ask why she had appeared here, of all places, and what she wanted from me. But I blocked those questions from my mind. I’d broken my father’s rules to dire consequences, so I knew better than to acknowledge the dead.

As if sensing my resistance, she floated closer. Was she drawn to my warmth? My energy? Like the other specters that came through the veil, did she crave what she could never have again? I desperately wanted it to be that simple, but I could feel the icy tentacles of that strange telepathy curling around me. She wanted to communicate. She was doing everything in her power to make me acknowledge her.

This, of course, was only my interpretation. She didn’t speak or try to touch me, but I suddenly had images in my head that didn’t belong there. Jumbled, dreadful visions that didn’t make any sense to me. And so much darkness. So much loneliness. It was like getting a peek through the veil. And that glimpse was terrifying…yet somehow seductive… .

I think I may actually have taken a step toward her when I heard Angus’s warning growl. I glanced past the ghost to where he crouched at the corner of the porch.

“Angus! Come, boy!”

He growled again, cutting a wide swath around her wavering form to come up beside me. I pressed against him because now I craved his warmth.

And still she drifted closer, hovering for the longest time right before my face. I no longer sensed confusion from her, but some darker emotion. The force of it, as she started to fade, was like a physical blow.

Leave now!

I sprinted up the porch steps with Angus at my heels.

*   *   *

Something awakened me that night. My eyes flew open, and I lay shivering under the covers, straining to hear whatever sound had roused me. All was silent in the house, but I rose, anyway, and pulled on a sweater over my nightgown as I padded down the hallway. The glimmer from the long windows guided me to the front door where I checked and rechecked the lock. Then I went through the kitchen to peer out the back door.

I could see the sparkle of moonlight on water and the feather-edged outline of the pines against the night sky. The forest beyond the lake was a solid blackness, blending seamlessly into the distant silhouette of the mountains. As my gaze skimmed those starlit peaks, something Catrice had said at dinner came back to me. You know as well as I do these mountains are full of secrets.

Secrets…and hidden graves, apparently.

Nothing seemed amiss outside, so I’d just decided to go back to bed when gooseflesh rose on my arms and at my nape, as if an icy draft had seeped in through a crack. I turned back to the window. Something was amiss. Angus would have come to the back door the moment he heard me stir. I called to him through the glass as my gaze went to his empty makeshift bed. Where was he?

I opened the door and stepped out into the chilly night air. “Angus?”

He wasn’t on the porch, but I told myself not to panic. He’d obviously found a way out. Dogs were good at that. But there was a quality to his absence that once again made the hair rise up at the back of my neck.

And then I saw the hole that had been cut in the screen, large enough for a hand to reach in and unfasten the latch. Someone had let Angus out—or taken him—and I hadn’t heard a sound.

Flinging back the door, I clamored barefoot down the steps, only to pause at the bottom, head cocked toward the woods. Something came to me. A faint, but chilling whimper. So tepid, I wanted to believe that I’d imagined the cry. It was only the wind riffling through the trees or the boat moored at the end of the pier scraping against the pilings. Then I heard it again, the high-pitched keen of an animal in distress. Angus.

I whirled toward the sound, my heart flailing like a startled robin against my chest, but even in that first moment of panic, I checked the impulse to rush blindly into the woods. Instead, I ran back into the house and grabbed my boots, struggling into them as I armed myself with flashlight and mace. I didn’t consider myself brave. I’d learned to live with ghosts out of necessity, not courage. But I moved through the house now with unhesitating determination. If Angus was lying hurt in the dark—and, oh, the images going through my head—I had to find him.

Hurrying down the back steps, I made my way across the yard and followed the footpath into the woods, using those desperate whimpers to guide me. But I didn’t call out to Angus again. I had no idea what might lie in wait for me in those trees. Stealth was my only friend. I kept the flashlight lowered to the ground as I slipped along the trail. Beyond the reach of the beam, the forest was a black, silent abyss. I would have welcomed the hoot of an owl or the patter of leaves to help mask my footsteps, but even the breeze had died away.

About a hundred yards in, the trees thinned, and up ahead, I could see the pool of moonlight in a small clearing. In the center of that circle, a dark form waited. I told myself it was nothing more than a shadow or a bush. When it moved, I stumbled in shock, the hard kick of my heart snatching my breath. Then I played the light into the clearing and saw the familiar gleam of soulful eyes.

“Angus.” I said his name on a gasp of relief. He’d been lying on the ground when I came up, but he rose when he heard my voice and rushed toward me, only to be jerked back so sharply he yelped in protest. An instant later, I saw why. He’d been tethered to a tree with a rope.

Icy panic stopped me in my tracks as if I, too, had been bound. My limbs went watery, and no matter how much I wanted to go to Angus, I simply couldn’t make my muscles obey. Because in that moment, I was as afraid as I’d ever been. Which might sound strange coming from someone who had seen ghosts since childhood and who had been the target of a killer not so long ago. I’d known my share of fear, but the terror I felt now wasn’t for my physical safety or even for Angus. I was afraid of something…inside me. Some unknown part of myself that I was only now discovering. The puzzle piece that connected me to this strange, disturbing place.

Drawing a shaky breath, I quieted my racing pulse and forced myself toward Angus, only to freeze once more, not in fear this time, but from the warning bristle of my every nerve ending. I didn’t know what had set off that alarm. Angus’s piteous whimper. Something in the wind. A dormant instinct come suddenly to life. Whatever the trigger, I paused there, one foot in front of the other as I slowly angled the beam along the path in front of me.

I almost didn’t see the thing, the camouflage of leaves and pine needles was so clever. It was only by pure luck that the light caught the gleam of metal. So complete had been my absorption in the metaphysical that I’d lost track of the real menace. Someone had taken Angus from my porch and tied him to a tree in the woods. This was no random act of cruelty. There was a very dark purpose behind the action.

Grabbing a stick from the forest floor, I swept aside the debris on the path to reveal the jagged teeth of a steel trap. An enormous one, much bigger than the size needed for a human leg. But in that first moment, I had no doubt about the motive. It had been placed at the end of the path directly between Angus and me. Someone had brought him here to lure me into the woods.

But why?

Instantly, I thought of that hidden grave and the reaction my revelation had provoked. I hadn’t imagined the tension at dinner, nor Hugh’s overly casual attempt to explain it away. I hadn’t imagined Luna’s response, either.