“You may return to your quarters. You are not to disturb Mrs. Nightingale until the morrow.”
“Yes, Miss Vera. I won’t.”
Satisfied, Vera closed the door behind her.
She failed to notice the glistening trail Ovee had smeared along the floorboards upon entering the room.
As Mary hastened down the stairs, holding Willy in her tiny arms, Vera returned to her room, still astounded by Calista’s claims.
Alexandra Hall was plunged into silence. Beneath the celestial sky, where the roses and peonies bloomed on the wallpaper, Ovee extended a limb from behind the drapes. Reaching out, slowly, in dread, it felt Calista’s cold hand. Crawling along her arm, it tasted every pore on Calista’s skin. Entangled, firm, intense, it sensed every nerve impulse of Calista’s last moments. And then suddenly, it let it go.
An indistinct shape, hideous, of changing colours and gradients, rose up on the bed to face the lifeless Calista. Two lidless eyes found her sweet face. An endless second followed as Ovee took in what it saw.
Then came a wide sweep as the creature flung its limbs about, and in its rage, the tiny porcelain figures by the bedside, were smashed to pieces.
Chapter 14
Monday
MAURICE’s eyes snapped open. A flood of memories came rushing back. Aaron’s mistreatment of Ovee, Vera’s murder of Calista, Calista’s angry spirit… Aaron had used his wife for her extraordinary gift. He’d never loved her. Taken from her village, far from her home island, she’d lived with a man who wronged her daily.
Maurice felt the hard surface beneath him. He tried, but could not move his legs or arms. They felt heavy. He blinked, trying to piece together the last moments before he had blacked out. He remembered being dragged down into the cellar. Mrs. Cleary had spoken to him. In his semi-conscious state, he’d imagined it was Therese. Mrs. Cleary sounded just like his mother and somehow, the housekeeper had found the strength to lift him up. She’d hoisted him on some kind of table.
Strewn atop the wooden panel, he had felt her work at his limbs. She had found some concoction from that oriental cabinet and forced it down his throat. He saw her hideous features above him and heard her words, “You stay right here, Mr. Leroux. I have to attend to Mary. She’ll raise the devil with her screaming.” Then she was gone and he passed out again.
Maurice attempted once more to free his limbs but he felt a tightness round his wrists and ankles. He seemed to be stretched out and tied. A deadening fear crept through him as he understood. There was only one place where he could be. He looked around in fright. She had known about Aaron’s laboratory. She had found a way to strap him down in the manner Aaron had dealt with those poor creatures. To his right, towering above him, was the medicine cabinet with its gilded handles. And to the left, he distinguished the greenish gleam of dozens of sealed jars.
Maurice worked at the left strap. He had to inch his way out of them. There was no telling what she would do once she returned. It was her. It had been her all along. Mrs. Cleary, whose real name was Louise March, had known of the presence of drugs in Aaron’s laboratory. When Calista’s spirit had begun haunting Alexandra Hall, the distraught Louise had lost her mind. Disobeying Aaron’s wishes, she had entered the cellar. By trial and error, she had begun to use the capsules.
She’d fallen into such erratic behaviour, it had scared Gerard. Then Sophie Murphy caught her entering the cellar door. Sophie had known of the housekeeper’s secret past and made the grave mistake of blackmailing Louise March.
The left strap had loosened. Maurice pulled out his hand, his fingers were torn and twisted as he tried to remove them.
She was not done. Now that she knew he suspected her, she would return to kill him. He had to free himself and get to Aaron’s gun. It was his only hope.
It was easy for her to kill. She had fatally clubbed Sophie then dragged her dead body to the stair landing to make it look like a fall had caused the maid’s death.
The cellar door slammed open. Louise March’s heels clattered down the steps.
Maurice wrenched at his right hand, tearing skin. He reached forth to untie the straps around his ankles.
The glow of a candlestick swept through the chamber.
She was here, in the cellar.
Maurice leapt to his feet, hiding behind the table.
“Maurice,” she called out. Her voice almost sounded sweet as she dragged out the last syllable of his name.
The last time he’d heard his name spoken this way was… Maurice shuddered. Still weakened by the drug she’d forced upon him, he crouched down the side of the table and tugged clumsily at its drawers. He’d seen the gun there on his first visit. He just hoped Aaron kept it loaded.
“Maurice…”
He saw her tall silhouette edge towards the trunks. She shone her candlestick on the deserted operating table, then across. The candlelight found Maurice just as his hand felt the empty drawer. The gun was gone.
She grinned.
“Too late, Maurice.” She banged the candlestick on top of the table. “I thought it prudent to get rid of Aaron’s toy when I tied you up. You wouldn’t want to hurt anyone now, would you?”
She glided past the table. She seemed to be carrying something heavy in one hand.
Maurice blinked, horrified by her appearance. Her eyes were black marbles where a vicious light blazed. She wore an old nightgown, her long grey hair loosened down her back. The thin fabric barely concealed the jutting bones of her hips.
There was a devilish grin on her face as she brandished the axe.
