The room was pleasant…but oddly impersonal. No photographs adorned the nightstand, no lipsticks or perfumes cluttered the dressing table. And yet I somehow knew the room had been Freya’s. Where were all her belongings? I wondered. Her adolescent keepsakes? Then I remembered that she’d been dead for over twenty-five years. She would remain seventeen forever in the ghost world, but here time had marched on. Tilly had probably put away her things a long time ago.
A little porcelain sparrow sat alone on a shelf above the pine headboard. One of the wings was broken off, and I wondered why Tilly had kept it. Maybe it was symbolic of her work with injured birds. Or, more likely, it had been a gift from Freya, and now Tilly displayed it in a place of honor over her daughter’s empty bed.
Did she have any idea that Freya had been murdered? How could I possibly keep something like that from her? And yet what good would the truth do her now?
It was a terrible dilemma, and something twisted inside me as I stared at the bird. In some cultures, sparrows were believed to carry the souls of the dead, but I didn’t want to dwell on death at that moment, let alone murder, so I moved to the window to stare out. We were in the middle of the woods. I could smell the evergreens even through the glass and a whiff of spice now and then that lingered from Tilly’s remedy.
Turning from the window, I reluctantly left that little blue sanctuary and went in search of her.
She was out on the back porch working on a wounded mourning dove.
I glanced into the cage. “What happened to it?”
“Broken wing,” she said, and I thought of the little brown sparrow in that little blue bedroom.
“Is it going to be okay?”
“God willing.”
The injured wing had been fastened securely to the dove’s side with gauze, but the healthy wing lifted in agitation as those tiny black eyes tracked me. I kept my distance so as not to create undue stress.
“You look a good sight better,” Tilly said as she replenished the minuscule food tray in the cage.
“I feel better. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along when you did. You seem to always be coming to my rescue.”
She said nothing to that, and to cover the awkward silence, I glanced around the cozy porch. I saw more bird cages at the far end, an old-fashioned porch swing and a comfortable rocker for keeping vigil. Outside, dozens of birdhouses were mounted on posts, and the treetops were alive with chatter and flitting bodies. I walked over to the screen to peer out. Angus saw me and came trotting up, whining to get in. “Tilly, why were those birds in the cemetery?”
“Let’s sit, girl,” she said as she moved to the other end of the porch. She took the rocker, and I sat down on the swing.
“You always seem to know when I’m in trouble,” I said. “How was it you happened to be in the cemetery this morning?”
“I came to see about a job. I heard you needed help.”
“Who did you hear that from?”
“Do you need help or don’t you?” she asked bluntly.
“I’m always in need of an extra pair of hands, but I can’t afford to pay much, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t need much.”
I glanced around the homey porch and the lush backyard. The spider mums were blooming, and I could smell rosemary through the screen. “Your place is very peaceful,” I said.
“It’s home.”
I settled back against the swing, one hand clasping the heavy chain. “Can we talk about what happened in the cemetery?” I asked. “Something was there. I know it.”
Her head dropped back on the rocker, and she heaved a sigh. “I don’t have all the answers you’re looking for, girl. All I know is that it’s old. Older than the mountains, I reckon. Maybe it’s been there from the beginning of time waiting for a chance to come through.”
“Is it a ghost?”
“Not a ghost, though it be with them on the other side. Some call it Demon. Some call it Beast. I call it Evil. Pure evil.”
My knuckles whitened where I clutched the swing chain.
Her eyes met mine, and I saw something hard and glittery and determined in those faded depths. Something that might have been edging toward crazy. “It has dominion there, but here it has to work through the weak, feeding on their fear and their hate and their greed.”
“That’s why you said I should be afraid of what’s inside me,” I said shakily.
She nodded.
“How do you know all this?”
“I can feel things,” she said. “I can sense things. Ever since I was a little girl I could always tell when something bad was about to happen. My mama could, too. People feared us for it.”
“That’s what brought you into the woods the other night and to the cemetery today. You weren’t looking for a job. You sensed I was in danger.”
“I knew from the moment you set foot in Asher Falls you were in danger. Everything changed when you came.”
“How?” I asked fearfully.
Her gaze went to the yard. “I’ve lived here a long time. I’ve seen things in these woods, heard things at night that can’t be explained. Not naturally, anyway.” Her face darkened, and I glimpsed that hint of insanity again, though I had seen and heard the same things.
“I always knew this place was tainted,” she said. “I could feel it in the wind when I first came here. It got so I was afraid to go outside after dark, and I was never that way back home. But I knew something was out there…watching and waiting…” She trailed off and drew a breath. “When the water rose over the cemetery, it got worse. Animals started acting up. Strangers came to town to walk the streets at night. People turned on each another. Those who could left this place. Those who stayed learned to watch their backs. And some embraced Evil.”
“Embraced it how?”
She put a gloved hand to her heart. “They let it in because it allowed them to do bad things.”
Like murder? I wondered. “How is it different now that I’ve come?” When she didn’t answer, I said desperately, “Please, tell me, Tilly. Why am I here? What does it want from me?”
“It wants you, girl.”
An icy chill gripped my spine, and I could feel my eyes go wide with fear and shock as my heart flailed.
“You’re special and you don’t even know it yet. You walk both sides of the veil, so that makes you dangerous. It fears you, so it seeks to control you.”
“How?”
“By getting inside you. By allowing you to do bad things.”
My breath caught at the look on her face. “And if I resist?”
“It’ll try to weaken you by using those around you.” She leaned in, her eyes blazing with the fervor of an old-timey preacher. “Stay away from Thane Asher, girl. You hear me?”
“Why? What does he have to do with any of this?”
“The Ashers be in league. Have been for generations.” Her eyes glittered madly. “How do you think they came by all that money and power?”
“But Thane wasn’t born an Asher.”
“No matter, girl. He covets what he can never have. That makes him susceptible to Evil. That makes him dangerous to you.”
I tried not to shiver. “I don’t believe it.”
“You best heed what I say and stay away from him. Thane Asher is not for you.”
“Why don’t you let her decide that for herself?”
I hadn’t heard him come up, and when he spoke through the screen, it was all I could do not to jump. He opened the door and stepped up on the porch, a large paper bag in each hand. He took them inside without a word. When he came back out, his gaze raked over us. “I put the groceries on the table,” he told Tilly.
