The Visitor (16 page)

Thirty

I
sat in the grass, watching the bats as Papa gathered up his tools. It was pointless to try to continue our conversation because he'd already shut down, disappeared into that black space where no one could reach him.

I didn't mind so much at the moment because I needed time to process all that he'd told me. Not only about Rose, but about those entities that preyed upon the innocent. I couldn't stop thinking about the key I'd taken from the headstone and how, after all these years, it had turned up again on my nightstand. Had I been preyed upon by one of those ghosts? Had I unwittingly been selected to be the conduit of a malcontent's evil?

Far better to believe that Rose had left that key for me to find, but as Papa had warned, aligning myself with my dead great-grandmother didn't come without a price.

I was so lost in thought that the tingle down my spine was the first warning I had that we were no longer alone. I glanced up to see Devlin walking toward us on the path. As I watched him approach, a barn owl swooped down over the graves and flew across the flagstones in front of him. He stopped short, but instead of following the winged predator with his gaze, he glanced over his shoulder. When he turned back around, I could see his face in the moonlight and the intensity of his expression startled me.

As Devlin entered our realm of stone angels, Papa nodded a greeting before excusing himself and setting off toward the gate. I waited until he was out of sight before rising. I thought it odd that Devlin made no move to close the space between us. Perhaps not so odd, considering my conversation with Papa, that I keep my distance from him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, in a voice I hardly recognized as my own.

“You said you were coming to see your father today. I took a chance you'd still be here.”

“Why? What's wrong?” I asked anxiously.

“Nothing's wrong. I was on my way back from Columbia and had the urge to see you.”

“Why were you in Columbia?”

“I had business to attend to.” He slanted his head, studying me. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I'm just surprised to see you.”

“Are you sure that's all it is?”

“Yes. Why wouldn't it be?”

“I don't know. All these questions are starting to feel a little like an interrogation.”

“I'm sorry.”

“And I can't help wondering why you're still standing all the way over there.”

“I could wonder the same about you.”

He closed the distance between us. “Better?”

“Yes,” I said on a breath.

Weaving his fingers through my hair, he tilted my face, teasing open my lips with his. My mind still churned with everything Papa had told me, making me slow to respond.

Sensing my reluctance, Devlin pulled back, his fingers still threaded in my hair as he searched my face. “It's obvious I've come at a bad time. Maybe I should have called first.”

“No.” My hand flitted to his chest. “It's not you. I'm glad you're here. You've no idea.”

“But something is wrong,” he said. “I take it you spoke to your father about Rose.”

I sighed. “I don't want to talk about any of that right now.”

“That bad?”

“It's complicated and unsettling and I'm all talked out. Right now I just want you to kiss me again.”

He pulled me to him. “Not a problem.”

“I want you to...” My eyes closed briefly. “Make me feel normal.”

“Is normal how you usually feel when I kiss you?” he teased. “We'll have to work on that.”

He wrapped his arms around me then, lifting me so that I hovered over him. I stared down into his eyes for the longest time and then, cupping his face in my hands,
I
kissed
him
, with a hunger that startled us both. I could feel the heat of his skin through his clothing and where his hands clutched me to him, my own flesh burned. I wanted him, right then, right there. Nothing else mattered. Not Papa. Not Rose. Certainly not any of the Krolls. The night belonged to us now.

Slowly, he slid me down his body until my feet touched earth once more. “Nothing normal about that kiss,” he murmured.

“Come with me.” I took his hand and pulled him beyond the angels into the deeper shadows of the cemetery where we wouldn't be disturbed by ghosts or humans. The statues and vines concealed us from prying eyes and hallowed ground would keep the door to the dead world firmly closed.

“I wasn't expecting this,” he said in that old-world drawl after I'd kissed him again with the same aggression.

“Nor was I,” I said on a shiver. “But it's that kind of night.”

A bemused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “There's something different about you.” He picked a leaf from my hair and let it drift to the grass. “Your smile, your eyes. The way you kissed me just now. You seem...”

“Not normal?”

“Normal is highly overrated. You seem
more
somehow.”

I knew what he meant. I was more. I had a new sensitivity to everything around me, including him. My nerve endings quivered with an awareness I'd never experienced before. My senses were unnaturally heightened. I was focused on Devlin, but also hyperaware of our surroundings. The whispering leaves, the scratch of tiny claws in the underbrush. I could still smell honeysuckle and roses, but the air was now punctuated with the decadent scent of Devlin's cologne. I drew in the fragrance like an addict.

I turned in his arms, pressing back into him as I lifted my lips to his neck. He held me tightly, one arm over my breasts, the other hand sliding down my abdomen, into my jeans, tempting me in ways that had nothing to do with the evolution of my gift.

He nuzzled my ear and whispered my name, using that irresistible drawl to melt me. His fingers moved softly against me and yet I had never felt such a delicious tension. My head fell back against his shoulder as I stared up into the treetops through half-closed eyes.

Something was up there staring down at me. Gleaming eyes in a snowy face. A barn owl, probably the same one that had winged across the path in front of Devlin.

I told myself this was nothing out of the ordinary. I'd seen owls in the cemetery before. But this one... The way he perched there, so still and knowing...

It's not an omen. It's not a harbinger of dark things to come. Don't look at it.

But I couldn't tear my gaze away. “Something's up there,” I said.

Devlin lifted his head. “What?”

“The owl that flew across the path in front of you. It's watching us.”

He was silent for a moment as he searched the branches. “So it is.” I felt his lips in my hair. “Ignore it.”

Slipping free of his hold, I turned to face him, lifting both hands to undo the buttons of his shirt until the silver medallion lay gleaming against his chest. The moment I touched the cold metal, I felt a jolt.
Like lava flowing through my veins, lightning in my fingertips.

It would have been so easy—too easy—to close my eyes and let Devlin's thoughts and emotions pour into me. To crawl inside his head and search through his memories until I discovered what made him tick. I'd always held a fascination for his time at the Institute and a perverse curiosity about his relationship with Mariama. Even dead, she loomed larger than life.

But I wouldn't invade his privacy. I wouldn't use that facet of my gift with Devlin because I still wanted to believe that we could someday have a normal life together.

“What's wrong?” he asked as I drew away from him.

“Papa could come back at any moment.”

“He's gone up to the house.”

“He could return, though.”

Devlin sighed and brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You're killing me here. You know that, don't you?”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're right. He could come back.” He glanced over his shoulder at the trail. I could sense a sudden wariness in him, but I didn't think he was worried about Papa.

“What is it?”

He searched the path for another long moment before turning back to me. “Nothing. Just making sure we're alone.”

“We are. Except for the owls and the bats.” We stood very close, but I sensed a subtle distance between us now.

“Are you ready to tell me what happened tonight?” he asked.

“With Papa, you mean?”

“What did he tell you about Rose?”

“She was Papa's mother. My great-grandmother.”

“That's not a surprise,” Devlin said. I saw his gaze dart back to the path. “Even apart from your shared name, the resemblance is too uncanny to be a coincidence. Did he say why he'd never mentioned her?”

“Papa doesn't like to talk about his past,” I answered truthfully if not altogether candidly. “He keeps a lot of things hidden.”

That simple observation seemed to give Devlin pause. His gaze brushed me for a split second before he glanced back up at the owl. “He isn't alone in that regard. I sometimes think we Southerners have a predilection for secrets.”

“Yes. I sometimes think the same,” I said as I watched him closely.

It was a strange moment. A subtle acknowledgment of the barrier that would always be between us. I fretted endlessly about all the things that I kept from Devlin, but he was just as secretive. There were parts of his past I would never be privy to, like his time at the Institute and his membership in the Order of the Coffin and the Claw. The medallion he wore around his neck had been the emblem of secrets and dark deeds since the founding of Charleston.

“Why did you go to Columbia?” I asked. “Were you working a case?”

“No. The trip was personal.”

“Is your grandfather okay?”

“The trip wasn't about him, either. And yes, he's okay. There's been no physical change. I'm meeting with his doctors tomorrow for a psych evaluation.”

“I know the two of you aren't close, but this must still be so difficult for you.”

Devlin shrugged. “Dealing with my grandfather has never been easy. Old age hasn't tempered his disposition or his demands.”

“Or his expectations, I imagine.”

He shrugged again. “I'm not here to talk about my grandfather. If you want to know the truth, I stopped by here to make sure you hadn't taken off for Kroll Cemetery without telling me.”

“Why didn't you just call me?”

“I can be more persuasive in person.”

I could certainly attest to that. “If you mean to try to talk me out of going, you're a little late. I've already made arrangements to meet with Louvenia Durant tomorrow to go over the details of the restoration.”

“Then, I'd better tell you what I found out today,” he said grimly. “I drove to Columbia to meet with Nathan Fortner.”

“Nathan Fortner.” I searched my memory until the name finally clicked. “He's the friend you mentioned before. The boy you used to explore the ruins with.”

“He's an attorney in Columbia these days, but he also maintains a small office in Isola. The last time we spoke he mentioned that his firm had done some work for the Kroll family.”

“What kind of work?”

“Something to do with the estate. Evidently, there's been contention among the various branches of the family for decades. After Ezra's death, a will was never found, so the money was eventually divided among the surviving relatives. Somehow the eldest sister ended up with all the land, which was a sizable fortune even apart from her portion of the cash and investments. According to Nathan, a rumor later surfaced that the sister had destroyed Ezra's will because she'd been disinherited. That sister was Louvenia Durant.”

“They did have a falling-out,” I said. “Nelda Toombs told me that Louvenia had never gotten over the estrangement. That's why she's so emotional about the restoration. And speaking of Nelda, I found out today that she's the owner of Dowling Curiosities. Owen Dowling is her great-nephew.”

“How did you find that out?”

“Owen called and asked if I would come by the shop so that his aunt could see the stereoscope. Nelda was there when I arrived.”

Devlin scowled. “How did he explain withholding the information from you?”

“He claims he didn't recognize the inscription because the nicknames haven't been used in years.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I'm not sure. He's hard to read. But Nelda did back him up.”

Devlin rubbed the back of his neck as if the fatigue of a long day was finally setting in. “Do you know anything about Louvenia Durant's grandson?”

“I've seen him around. His name is Micah Durant and apparently he isn't very happy about the restoration. He thinks his grandmother is squandering her money.”

“Maybe there's another reason for his disapproval,” Devlin said. “It's something Nathan hinted at. He could only speak hypothetically, of course, but it got me to thinking. If Louvenia or any of the Kroll relatives wanted to put that land on the market, the expense of moving the cemetery could diminish the value. It would be easier just to get rid of the headstones and pretend the cemetery never existed.”

“I don't think Louvenia would stand for that.”

“Maybe not while she's alive,” Devlin said.

I stared at him for a moment. “You don't think her own grandson would try to harm her, do you?” But even as I played devil's advocate, I couldn't help remembering the visceral reaction I'd had to Micah Durant.

“All I know is that I don't trust these people,” Devlin said. “There are too many coincidences and deceptions in the way they've made contact with you.” He rested his hands on my shoulders. “I wish you would wait until I'm free to go with you, but at least promise me you'll keep your eyes and ears open. If there's even a hint of danger, you call me.”