Silent Stalker, page 11
“May I?” he murmured.
She felt herself nod … felt his lips close over hers, even more passionate than yesterday, drawing her breath away, her strength, her will. Why did I ever think anything suspicious about you, Malcolm? How could I ever have?
She knew the kiss was ending, yet he didn’t pull away. Instead he pressed her head gently against his chest and stood there, holding her. In the protective circle of his arms, Jenny felt as if nothing could frighten her, could harm her, ever, ever again.
“You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?” His lips moved lightly against her hair, and she couldn’t help shivering.
“Yes. Dad should be back tomorrow.”
Was it her imagination, or had she detected a note of relief in his voice?
Malcolm said nothing for a while. Then she heard him sigh.
“I’ll miss you,” he said quietly, and then he was drawing away from her, and his eyes seemed thoughtful and sad.
Jenny forced a laugh. “You make it sound as if we’ll never see each other again.”
Malcolm said nothing. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. He ran his eyes slowly over her, as though memorizing the way she looked. “We’d better go down,” he said. “Everything will be cold.”
Puzzled, Jenny followed him back to the main part of the house, but Malcolm left her almost immediately, saying he had important business to attend to. Fortunately the corridor was a familiar one, and Jenny found the bathroom with no trouble. It was when she was coming out again that something caught her eye at the end of the hall.
The tapestry.
The same one she’d noticed her first night here.
It was moving again … rustling along the floor.
And this time she knew she wasn’t imagining it.
Jenny glanced around nervously, but there was no one in sight. Moving as quietly as she could, she crossed the length of the hall and hesitated beside the huge wall hanging. She reached out and ran her fingers down the finely woven fabric … and then she froze.
Voices?
She could hear them, just a soft murmuring, but they sounded very far away.
Holding her breath, Jenny pulled the tapestry out from the wall …
And stared at the gaping doorway behind it.
Startled, Jenny stood there for several moments, halfway beneath the tapestry, trying to decide what to do. A clammy breeze wafted out, bringing with it another soft swell of voices, but again she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Mustering all her courage, she let the tapestry fall back into place behind her and moved ahead through the opening in the wall.
Almost immediately she discovered a flight of steps leading down. Jenny followed them to a landing, then kept to another hallway as it twisted deep into the castle. She didn’t have far to go. As she rounded the next curve, she came so suddenly upon a room and its occupants that she threw herself back against the tunnel wall, terrified she’d been seen.
The voices continued, unaware.
Pressed back into shadows, Jenny managed to turn her head sideways, just enough to get a good look at what was going on.
One of the twins was there. And Nan. And as Jenny watched in surprise, a camouflaged door suddenly opened in another wall, and Wit slipped into the room.
Neither looked surprised to see him.
The three of them stood beside a table. Wit reached down and picked up a small bottle while the twin—Jenny couldn’t tell which one—spoke to Nan urgently.
“You’ve got to do it, Nan, understand? You’re the only one who can. No one would ever suspect you of doing anything.”
Nan stared first at the bottle, then up at him, nodding in her slow, uncertain way. Her eyes were wide and listless.
“It’s not really wrong what we’re doing,” Wit said gently. “You know that, don’t you? It’s not like—well, what I mean is, it is like—”
He looked helplessly at the twin, who broke in quickly.
“A game, really. Just a game. And once this is done, we’re taking you out of here—to a different place.”
“You can’t stay here anymore.” Wit gazed earnestly into Nan’s blank face. “And what’s going to happen—what’s been happening—it’s got to be our secret.”
“Wit’s right. You mustn’t say anything.” The twin turned Nan by her shoulders to face him. “Our secret.”
Nan’s stare was unblinking. Her eyes never left his.
“No one must know, Nan,” Wit whispered. “It could be dangerous.”
The twin nodded solemnly. “Believe me … it’ll be better this way.”
Without a word Nan threw her arms around the twin’s neck and hugged him tightly. He smiled and hugged her back, and as Jenny watched, Nan broke away again and slipped the tiny bottle into the pocket of her dress. Then she vanished quietly through the hidden door.
Jenny stood there a long time.
She saw Wit pace slowly to the end of the room, his face creased with worry. She saw the twin lean forward onto the table and lower his head between his arms. When he spoke at last, his voice sounded empty.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this. This whole thing—it’s—”
“I know,” Wit cut in. “I’m scared, too. We all are.”
“It’s … it’s got to happen, though, doesn’t it?” the twin whispered hoarsely. “And it’s not wrong, what we’re doing … is it? Not like …”
“Murder?” Wit’s tone was solemn. He came to a sudden halt, his hands clenching at his sides.
“We’ve got to,” he mumbled. “What other choice do we have?”
18
Jenny didn’t wait to hear any more.
With her heart pounding furiously, she hurried back the way she’d come, praying she wouldn’t be discovered. “Not like murder … just a game …”
With every step she took, a new stab of fear went through her. She could still see the grim expressions on the boys’ faces … Nan’s blank obedience as she’d picked up the bottle from the table. “What’s going to happen … what’s been happening … our secret …”
I was right, Jenny thought dully. There is something going on in this house … and something horrible is still going to happen.…
She was too confused even to think. Gratefully she came out into the corridor again and went quickly on to breakfast. To her amazement, she found everyone else there before her, seated around the table as if they’d been there for hours.
Jenny froze in the doorway and looked around at their faces: Wit—Malcolm—Derreck—Sir John. They were talking casually among themselves, and as they glanced up at her approach and grew quiet, she had the sudden, eerie sensation that what she’d just seen back there in the secret room had only taken place in her mind.
“Good morning,” Jenny said softly, taking her place at the table. “I hope I’m not late.”
Wit didn’t move the bench out for her this time. As Jenny sat beside him, he shifted his eyes away from her, poured himself some coffee, and sat looking down at his cup. Jenny wondered uncomfortably if it had something to do with the scene she’d just spied upon, or if he was still angry with her for last night.
Nan brought a platter of food and held it silently while Jenny dished some eggs out onto her plate. One of the twins lifted a cup to his lips and winked at Jenny over the rim.
“Good morning, Nan.” Flustered, Jenny gave Nan a nervous smile, but the girl didn’t respond. After a quick glance at Wit, Nan disappeared through a side door.
“I trust you slept well, my dear?” Sir John inquired politely, but kept on buttering his bread, not waiting for Jenny to answer. “Going to the fair again today?”
“Yes.” Jenny thought quickly. “But actually I’m a lot more interested in the castle. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
Jenny felt his split second of hesitation. Across from her the other twin leaned forward slowly and regarded her with steady dark eyes.
“Certainly.” Sir John nodded. “Ask away.”
“Well, there must be lots of stories people have handed down through the years.” Jenny kept her face carefully composed. “More legends about ghosts or restless spirits?” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “Tragic victims … or … damsels in distress, maybe? Family secrets? Murders? Or … hidden bodies? You know … things like that“
Wit stared at her. In a fraction of time the room seemed to grow smaller and smaller, pressing in on her with unseen dangers. One of the twins cleared his throat. The other shifted his gaze onto his father’s face.
“I’m afraid,” Sir John said, touching a napkin to each corner of his mouth, “that I’ve not heard any stories such as those. But perhaps the boys have. My imagination, unfortunately, leaves much to be desired.”
He pushed back his chair and left the room.
Jenny sat where she was and felt three pairs of eyes upon her.
“Let’s go,” one of the twins finally mumbled. Obligingly the other got up and followed him out, leaving Jenny alone with Wit.
She put down her fork and gazed at her untouched food.
What am I doing here? Now’s my chance.… Go down to the fair … hitch a ride with someone … get away from this place and forget this whole thing ever happened—
“You look like you could use a friend,” Wit said. “Even if it isn’t me.”
Oh, Wit, what were you doing in that room—what were you and your brother talking about—what did you give Nan in that bottle—what’s going on—
“On the other hand,” Wit went on, talking to himself more than to her, “I’m best at being friends.”
Jenny glanced at him. “I thought you were best at being clever.”
“I’m best at being a clever sort of friend. Shall we go?”
“No, you go without me.”
“And leave you alone in this doom-and-gloomy place? Why, Malcolm—or is it Derreck?—would never forgive me!” He ignored the look she gave him and rushed on. “I know just the thing to cheer you up. You should go to the tournament.”
“What tournament?”
Wit tilted his head back, picked up a piece of sausage, and balanced it upright on the end of his nose.
“The one at the fair. Scores of dashing young knights—Malcolm will be there. Or is it Derreck? To win a lucky lady’s hand.” His eyebrow lifted suggestively. “Maybe you’re the lucky lady?”
Jenny’s cheeks flushed, and she put her hands casually to her face. That was Malcolm, wasn’t it—in my room just this morning? Did he have enough time to get to that secret room before I did? Or was that Derreck in there conspiring with Wit?
“Come on.” Wit stood up and led her out into the corridor. The twins were there talking to each other, their heads down, voices low. As one looked up and noticed her, the other touched her arm, stopping her before she could leave.
“Jenny—you will be at the tournament?”
Surprised, she looked from one identical face to the other. “I … I wasn’t planning on it.”
She didn’t hear Wit come up behind her, and she jumped as he slipped his arm around her waist.
“Of course she will,” Wit replied. “What’s a feature on fairs without featuring a tidbit or two about tournaments?” He put a finger to his temple, as if thinking. “And what’s a tense, terrifying tournament without a lovely luscious lady?”
The twins exchanged amused looks, and Wit held up his hands in a dramatic gesture for quiet.
“And I proclaim—as jester of this court—that right now—without a moment’s delay—Jenny should give Malcolm a kiss. A kiss for luck.”
Jenny’s cheeks flamed. She shook her head and felt Wit pushing her forward.
“Oh, go on. It’s customary. You wouldn’t send a knight to his doom without a token of your affection, would you?”
One of the twins snorted. “Doom! Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Yes, Jenny, go on.” The other leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do give—Malcolm—a kiss for luck.”
Again Jenny shook her head, more firmly this time.
“Don’t you get tired of these stupid games? All three of you remind me of little boys—you should have outgrown this stuff a long time ago.”
“Do it,” Wit challenged her. “How bad can it be?”
Jenny could feel her blush deepening as the twins laughed. Defiantly she reached up to one of them and slid her fingers behind his left ear.
“You’re Malcolm,” she said. “Satisfied?”
She gave him a perfunctory kiss and pulled back again, glaring at both of them.
“Am I?” The twin sounded surprised.
“Yes.” Jenny’s voice was adamant. “There’s no scar behind your left ear.”
To her dismay, the other twin let out a groan.
“Not the old scar thing again, Wit! Can’t you be more original?”
“At least it was on the ear this time,” his brother mused. “Last time it got really embarrassing.”
As all three brothers burst into laughter, Jenny stormed down the corridor. She refused to turn around, even when she heard Wit running behind, calling her name.
“Come on, Jenny, wait up! It was just a joke!”
“You’re a joke,” Jenny muttered.
“Thank God I’ve lived up to my calling!”
Jenny hurried outside and away from the house. The sun was warm and clean, and she wished desperately that it could make everything disappear—her fears, her uncertainties, the house and its riddles and everyone in it.
“I’ll race you!” Wit said breathlessly, catching up to her. Jenny knew he could have caught up anytime he’d wanted to and suspected he’d only given her a chance to cool down.
“I don’t want to race with you,” she threw back at him. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”
“Oh, so you gave Derreck a kiss. Big deal.”
“Maybe that wasn’t Derreck. How would you know?”
“Sometimes I don’t know. Sometimes I have to stop and think. Or look for distinguishing marks.”
“Oh? Under their eyelids, maybe? Or on the bottoms of their feet?”
“Excuse me—are we overreacting just a little? I was just having fun—”
“Well, nothing personal, but I don’t think being made a fool of is fun. And I don’t think your house is fun. I think there’s something going on there that’s definitely not fun!”
Jenny stopped. She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes, shocked at what she’d just said. When she opened them again, Wit was looking at her solemnly.
“What? What do you think is going on at our house?”
“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. Just a figure of speech.”
“I don’t think so. Jenny!”
She started off again, but Wit raced up to her, grabbing her arm, forcing her to stop and look at him. His hair was windblown around his face, and he looked even more boyish than usual—young and confused and—what?
“Jenny—please—after I say this, you’ve got to promise me you’ll forget it. You’ll pretend it was never said. Promise.”
She stared at him. She could see that other emotion struggling beneath his expression, and with a start she suddenly realized it was fear.
“Jenny. Listen to me. There is something going on at the house.” He was speaking rapidly now, whispering so low and so fast she could hardly keep up with him. He had her by the shoulders, and he was leaning in close to her ear, as though fearful any moment they’d be overheard.
“I can’t explain anything right now. You’ve just got to trust me.”
“Trust you? Oh, please. You’ve given me such good reasons to.”
“Forget all that. This isn’t a joke, this is real—”
“Haven’t I heard that line somewhere before?” Jenny threw back at him. “And it seems to me your answer to that was—”
“Listen. Your father wanted a nice, pretty story—so don’t go after any others. Jenny, do you understand? Get your story—then get the hell out of here. Get as far away as you can, promise me. Jenny—please—promise!”
Jenny’s annoyance turned slowly to bewilderment … then to fear. Wit looked so intense, his eyes pleading, his face strained.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” His voice sank even lower. “I just know I don’t want anything to happen to you. None of us do.”
Jenny peered hard into his face. There wasn’t the slightest hint of teasing there now.
“Please, Jenny,” he murmured, and he was pulling her close … resting his lips against her forehead … smoothing her hair. “I don’t want … anything … to happen to you. Please …”
“What is it?” she asked, and there was a cold, heavy feeling in her heart. “Why can’t you tell me?”
Abruptly Wit released her. He held both his arms high in the air, then sprang into a series of cartwheels that took him the rest of the way down the hill. Jenny trailed after him in slow motion. She knew it would be useless to question him now. She watched as he landed nimbly on his feet, as he led her into the make-believe.
19
The fair was even more full than yesterday.
Immediately Jenny and Wit were swallowed up by a confusion of modern tourists and medieval characters of every shape, size, and sort—but Wit maneuvered effortlessly through the crowds. For Jenny it was almost painful, seeing the smiles around her—hearing the laughter.… Nobody’s even aware that something’s wrong … It’s so heavy, so dangerous, I can feel it in the air, but I’m the only one who knows. …
A horrible premonition lay like a stone in the pit of her stomach. As Wit pulled her along behind him, all the bright colors and happy sounds ran together and became a blur in Jenny’s mind. The image of Nan’s face kept haunting her … the strange warning Nan had given in the tower—“You can’t tell by his face.… You never can tell what he’s thinking. …”
It could be anyone, Jenny thought with a shock.
How well did she really know them—any of them?
To her they were just faces … names … separate personalities they allowed her to see.…
