witches of cleopatra hill 06 - spellbound Page 4

  For a moment, Marie remained silent. They were sitting in her living room; from upstairs, Danica heard the faint whine of a Dremel tool grinding away and guessed that Marie’s husband Andre was working on one of his jewelry projects. When she did speak, the older woman sounded skeptical. “Our family has been using that cabin in one form or another for the past hundred and thirty years or so. As far as I know, no one has ever reported seeing any kind of spirit anywhere in or around the cabin, or experienced any kind of supernatural phenomena there at all.”

  “So you’re saying I’m imagining things?”

  “No, I am not saying that. I’m only saying that this is the first time I’ve ever heard of anything like this.”

  Of course it’s the first time something like this has happened, Danica thought. Because God forbid there should be any corroborating evidence to prove that I haven’t finally lost my mind.

  Seemingly unperturbed by Danica’s lack of response, Marie went on, “Are you sure it couldn’t have been a trespasser? I remember when I was a girl and went up there often, every once in a while we’d get people stumbling onto the property, not realizing it wasn’t part of the Forest Service lands.”

  “That’s what I thought at first. But the man I saw disappeared by just sort of melting away…and there was also what he was wearing.”

  “Which was?”

  Danica had thought about the stranger’s clothes a good bit, attempting to brand every detail into her memory so she wouldn’t forget. “Like something out of Tombstone. It’s one of my dad’s favorite movies, so I’ve seen it a lot. One of those long black frock coats, and the kind of shirts they used to wear in the 1800s. You know, with the band collar.”

  “I’m familiar with that, yes.” Marie’s mouth pursed slightly, and she added, “But I also know that we have a lot of historical re-enactors in this part of the world. Maybe he was off doing an encampment or something and got lost.”

  “An encampment on a Thursday night?” Danica scoffed. “I mean, I guess it’s not outside the realm of possibility, but don’t they usually have those things over the weekend?”

  “I would assume so, but I’d say it’s a more logical explanation than having a ghost suddenly turn up on the property.” A lift of her slender shoulders, and Marie leaned toward the coffee table so she could pick up her neglected glass of iced tea. “But if you really want an expert opinion, you should call Angela. She’s the one who knows all about ghosts. If there actually is some kind of spirit at the cabin, she should be able to call it forth and communicate with it.”

  The thought had crossed Danica’s mind as well, but she’d decided that she should get some background from Marie before approaching Angela. After all, Marie was her cousin, and Danica had known her all her life. It was Danica’s older sister Mason who was friendly with Angela, since they were closer in age. If Danica had exchanged even a hundred words with Angela in the three years since the two clans had been reconciled, she would be surprised.

  But it seemed as if there wasn’t much else Danica could do except talk to the McAllister prima. As Marie had said, Angela was the expert when it came to ghosts.

  “Okay,” Danica said after a brief hesitation, hoping the reluctance in her tone wasn’t too obvious. “I’ll see what she has to say.”

  And pray that she doesn’t drag the twins along if we end up having to take a field trip back to the cabin….

  * * *

  That eventuality was avoided, however, because Angela had sounded positively cheerful about being able to leave Ian and Emily with her husband Connor so she could meet Danica at the cabin.

  “If that’s okay,” Angela had added hastily. “I mean, if you don’t want to go back there by yourself — ”

  “No, it’s fine,” Danica cut in. She hadn’t felt any sort of ill will coming from the handsome stranger…ghost…whatever he was. It was only that his mere presence had been enough to give her the heebie-jeebies. But going back in daylight didn’t seem too scary. “When can you get out there?”

  “I’ll shoot for three, but if anything changes, I’ll let you know.”

  That reply hadn’t sounded too good to Danica, for multiple reasons. “Well, you won’t be able to get me on my cell because I don’t get any reception out there, and the landline in the cabin isn’t working.”

  “Oh.” For a second, Angela hesitated, and then she went on, “It’s fine. I’ll be there at three, come hell or high water. Or the twins.”

  Danica thought they were probably the most likely disaster scenario, but she held her tongue, and only said that sounded great and she’d see Angela later that afternoon.

  And the McAllister prima had been there right on time. Well, only five minutes late, which, considering how far she had to drive, really wasn’t too bad.

  Angela parked her Jeep Cherokee next to Danica’s Land Rover and got out, surveying the property with interest as she did so.

  “Hi, Angela. You’ve never been to the cabin before?” Danica asked as she approached the other woman.

  “No. Connor’s talked about it, but I wanted the twins to be a little older before we came out here and roughed it.”

  Danica chuckled. “Well, I don’t know if you can really call it ‘roughing it,’ after all the upgrades Lucas did a few years ago, but come on inside.”

  They both walked up the porch and went in through the front door. The weather had cooled down a little that day, and so Danica only had one window open. The curtains moved lazily in the breeze, but otherwise the main room was quiet and still.

  “Wow, this is nice,” Angela said, looking around approvingly. “But then, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, if Lucas was the one in charge of the renovations.” Her expression turned businesslike, and she added, “Where did you first see him?”

  They both knew she wasn’t talking about Lucas.

  “Outside the master bedroom window. Here.”

  Danica led Angela into that bedroom and pointed at the window in question. “I was lying in here, trying to fall asleep, when I saw a shadow go past. At first I tried to tell myself it was nothing, but I somehow knew it was more than just an owl, or whatever. So I got up and went out to the front room, and I saw the shadow again. That time I could definitely tell it was shaped like a man.”

  “And then when you went outside, you saw him clearly.”

  “As clearly as I’m seeing you.” Well, that wasn’t quite right. She and Angela were facing each other in a well-lit room in broad daylight, and he’d been standing outside in the dark. Even with a full moon, you couldn’t see everything. She amended, “Okay, clearly enough. He just — he looked like a person. It wasn’t until he disappeared that I realized he couldn’t be real. I mean, not real, real.”

  A little frown was pulling at Angela’s dark, perfectly arched brows. Almost with surprise, Danica noticed how pretty the prima actually was. They hadn’t spent a lot of time around one another, and Danica supposed that in her mind she’d sort of built Connor’s consort into a mythical, almost fearsome creature, the one person who’d managed to break the Wilcox curse after it had wreaked havoc on the clan for more than a century. Now, though, Danica realized that Angela was just another young woman like herself, a couple of years older, but still having to manage the problems of being a witch in a civilian world.

  Still looking distracted, Angela said, “Show me where you saw him outside. I’m not getting anything at all here.”

  Disappointment flared in Danica, but she told herself she needed to be patient. The ghost or man or whatever he was had only gone past her bedroom window, whereas he’d been standing in one place at the end of the driveway for some time.

  “This way.”

  She led Angela out of the cabin and down the gravel drive, almost to the place where it met with the dirt road that wound its way to the property. Pausing there, Danica pointed at a spot a few feet away.

  “I saw him right there.”

  Without speaking, Angela moved to the locatio
n Danica had indicated and then stood there for a moment, hands upturned and arms slightly outstretched, as if she was trying to feel the currents of the wind…or anything which might be riding on that wind. Her head cocked to one side, and her eyelids drooped slightly.

  Danica wanted to ask if she was feeling anything, but she knew better than to interrupt a medium while she was working. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. Marie had said once that Angela wasn’t actually a medium, but rather someone with the ability to see ghosts and speak with them like they were living people.

  That man had looked real enough, at least until he had dissolved into the darkness and disappeared. So what did it mean that Danica had seen him? Twenty-two was a little late to be developing a newfound witch talent.

  At last Angela opened her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not feeling a damn thing.”

  Of course she wasn’t. So that meant Danica could add “having hallucinations” to the long list of things about her life that were completely screwed up.

  Her expression must have fallen, because Angela said quickly, “Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I know everyone likes to talk about my talent as if it gives me the ability to call ghosts to me and have them do whatever I want, but that’s not true at all. I mean, I can reach out to a spirit and hope that he or she will respond, but making that connection is up to the spirit, not me. Maybe this man, whoever he was…maybe he only wants to communicate with you.”

  “I don’t see how that’s going to work,” Danica replied. She knew she sounded gloomy, but she’d had so many setbacks lately that it was hard to feel too enthusiastic about anything. “I don’t talk to ghosts.”

  “Ghosts in general,” Angela corrected her. “If I’ve learned anything from talking with the spirits, it’s that they generally have a mind of their own. You can’t really force them to do anything. But it sounds as if this one was reaching out to you.”

  “So why didn’t he say anything?”

  “Maybe he couldn’t right then. Or maybe he just hasn’t decided what he wants to say. Time doesn’t work the same way for ghosts as it does for us mortals. They don’t think anything of disappearing for months at a time and then coming back and picking up a conversation as if they just broke it off a few seconds ago.” She went quiet for a moment, appearing to ponder what she should say next. “What did he look like?”

  Well, at least that part was easy enough. “He was handsome. Late twenties, I think. Dark hair, Wild West–looking clothes. He didn’t have a hat or anything, though. Clean-shaven.”

  Angela appeared to absorb that information, then asked, “Did you get any kind of a feeling from him?”

  “‘Feeling’?” Danica repeated. “You mean other than, ‘what the hell is this strange guy doing on my property in the middle of the night’?”

  Angela grinned. “Yeah, anything other than that.”

  What had Danica felt, other than the need to get the hell away from the intruder? That moment when he’d been standing there, looking at her. He hadn’t made any threatening movements. His face had been calm…maybe a little sad, if anything.

  “Nothing, really,” she said. “It wasn’t as if he seemed evil or angry or anything like that. I guess it wasn’t the man himself that scared me, just more the idea that someone was wandering around the property when I was all alone out here.”

  “I can understand that.” Angela’s tone was neutral, almost too neutral. As the consort of the Wilcox clan’s primus, of course she would know all about the way Danica had fallen apart after the Matías incident. Angela would never be so crass as to mention the near-breakdown to Danica, but she probably was telling herself to step lightly, to not say something that would reference Danica’s admittedly fragile mental state. “But if he truly doesn’t feel like a negative spirit, then maybe you should try reaching out to him. Or have you decided not to stay here?”

  “I don’t know yet.” True, her first instinct had been to pack her bags and get the hell out of there. But last night, after it became obvious that the stranger or ghost or whatever he was didn’t intend to return, she’d actually managed to go to sleep, and slept better than she had in many months. The next morning had dawned bright and sunny, with no sign of anyone having been on the property, except some deer tracks off in the back forty. Besides, Caitlin had told her to come here, so this man — ghost or shade or whatever he was — had to be connected to what she had seen. Should she mention that to Angela? Maybe not right now. Just because Caitlin had had some kind of vision that told her Danica was meant to come here didn’t necessarily mean that the ghost was connected to her friend’s vision.

  Anyway, Danica hadn’t said anything to her parents, had talked to Marie in confidence. True, Marie might still go blabbing to her mother, but Danica didn’t think so. The Wilcox seer had her faults, but breaking confidences didn’t tend to be one of them.

  Angela lifted her head into the wind, as if attempting to sense something of the mysterious stranger on its currents. Right then she did look something like a priestess of old, despite her T-shirt and jeans. Weren’t the McAllisters descended from druids or something?

  Danica couldn’t remember, and maybe it really didn’t matter. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and stared into the forest, toward the spot where the stranger had disappeared. Maybe it was her imagination, but it did seem as if she could see a faint trail there, a narrow pathway winding through the trees.

  “It feels all right,” Angela said at last. “Although I totally get it if you don’t want to stay out here.”

  “I think I will stay,” Danica said, surprising herself. Where had that come from? Had Angela’s reassurance that no evil was lurking around the cabin convinced her, or was it something else? But the conviction began to grow in here that she needed to stay. It would be one thing if the stranger had done anything to approach her, or made an attempt to enter the cabin. He hadn’t, though, had merely passed by outside. Besides, Caitlin had said that Danica was supposed to come here to the cabin. Maybe it was specifically to see the stranger, although she thought if that were the case, it might have been helpful if he’d actually said something to her.

  “I probably would stay, too, if I were in your shoes. I love a good mystery. But here.” Angela gestured for Danica to follow her over to her Jeep, which Danica did, feeling somewhat mystified. After opening the passenger-side door, Angela picked up something from the front seat and handed it over.

  Danica took the device from her, eyebrows lifting. “A satellite phone?”

  “Well, I’ll feel better knowing we have some way of reaching you, and knowing that you can get a call out if you need to. Connor bought the phone when he used to go out hiking in the middle of nowhere, but he hasn’t been doing much of that lately. So you might as well have it.”

  For some reason, the simple gesture made Danica’s chest tighten. Yes, she’d had her parents hovering over her for the last six months, but she hadn’t had much interaction with the rest of her family members, preferring to hole up with her misery. To see Angela, who probably had plenty of other things on her mind, show that she did care, that she wanted to make sure Danica was all right, meant more than she wanted to admit to herself.

  Words seemed to fail her. She clutched the phone, and Angela reached out and put a gentle hand on one arm.

  “Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  Danica nodded. “I — I’m fine. Really. Thanks for this. That does make me feel better, knowing I can call if I need to.”

  Angela’s green eyes were very sharp. “Just make sure you do, if it comes to that.”

  * * *

  The prima didn’t stay too long after that exchange. She seemed to listen to the wind one more time, then shook her head, as if exasperated with herself that she couldn’t sense anything of the previous night’s visitor. Afterward, she got in her Cherokee and drove off, waving to Danica as she headed back to the dirt road in a cloud of dust.

  Still holding
the satellite phone, Danica went inside the cabin, then set it down carefully on the dining room table. By then it was a little after four, so she still had a few hours before night fell. Plenty of time to go explore that little track she’d seen.

  But because she’d wandered through these woods before and knew how time seemed to pass differently there, how you could wander for hours and have it feel as if only a few minutes had passed, she made sure to put the phone, some bottled water, a granola bar, and a compass scrounged from the kitchen junk drawer in the backpack she’d brought along with her, then shoved a sweater on top of everything, just in case. She threw the backpack over her shoulder, locked the front door of the cabin, and shoved the key into her jeans pocket.

  When she’d gotten up that morning, she’d put on jeans and a T-shirt and her trail shoes, just because the ground around the cabin wasn’t really suited for flip-flops, even if you weren’t planning to go on a hike. She was glad of her forethought now, glad that she didn’t have to delay to change into something more practical.

  She crunched her way down the driveway and then cut off across open ground, heading to the trail she thought she’d spied earlier. And there it was, not much more than a thin line moving through the dry grass. But it was something, a sign that someone had come this way before.

  Or something, anyway, she reminded herself. Elk could have cut through here, or deer. It didn’t necessarily have to have been human feet that had crushed the vegetation.

  This wasn’t the way to the valley with the stream. Danica couldn’t remember for sure if she’d ever come to this part of the woods or not, because, face it, one stand of ponderosa pines pretty much looked like any other. But it was still lovely, the air clean and fresh-smelling, the sunflowers and mulleins still blooming. Flagstaff hadn’t yet had its first frost of the season, but she knew it was coming.

  As she walked, she looked from side to side to see if she could spy any evidence that the stranger had come through here. Footprints, broken underbrush, even a discarded gum wrapper. But she didn’t see anything at all, only dry pine needles that crunched underfoot and the warm gold of autumn wildflowers. It seemed clear enough to her that no one had come this way in a long while. Definitely not her cousin Cody and his band of rowdy frat boys. They probably hadn’t gone any farther than the shed to get firewood for the outdoor hearth.