Silent Stalker, page 2
“Malcolm!”
Jenny fought off a surge of panic. As she stood there in pitch blackness, she clenched her arms around herself, terrified to reach out, terrified of what she might feel.…
“Malcolm …” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Please don’t leave me.…”
Close to her side she sensed a subtle stirring of shadows … felt a whisper of stale air creep slowly over her face.…
Jenny knew she wasn’t alone.
As a scream rose into her throat, she felt icy fingers touch the back of her hair … move across her neck … and slide slowly down her spine.
3
“Jenny!” Malcolm’s voice shattered the darkness. “Jenny, where are you!”
The fingers uncoiled … slid away …
“Jenny! Answer me!”
As Jenny’s terrified cry echoed on and on through the tunnel, she felt other hands grabbing her shoulders, and she screamed even louder, beating out at them with her fists.
“Stop it, Jenny!” Malcolm wrestled her arms down to her sides, pinning her tightly against him. “It’s me—stop it!”
“Didn’t you see him!” Jenny babbled. “Didn’t you? He touched me! He tried to—”
“What? Calm down, I can’t understand a thing you’re saying—”
“You must have seen him—you must have! He had ahold of my neck—he—you had to see him—”
“Jenny, I can barely see you—and now you’ve made me drop the flashlight and break it, so we’ll have to go on in the dark.”
“I’m not going anywhere! I want my father and I want to leave!”
Jenny could hear a deep sigh in Malcolm’s chest as he fought for patience.
“All right, then, shall I just leave you here and go off” to find this father of yours?”
“No! Don’t you dare leave me again!”
“That’s what I thought.” This time his shoulders moved in a gentle laugh. “These passages are old and filthy, Jenny. It was probably just spiderwebs you felt. Or these awful drafts. They’d make anyone imagine ghosts.” Jenny closed her eyes. Malcolm’s heart was beating beneath her cheek, warm and solid.
“It’s just that … it seemed so real.…”
“And now you know why everyone was so superstitious all those years ago,” Malcolm said. “With shadows and dampness and … things hiding in the night …”
Was it her imagination or had his voice sounded troubled for just an instant? As the silence dragged out, Jenny felt his arms tighten around her briefly before they pulled away again. “Come on.” Malcolm’s voice floated eerily in the dark. “Hold on to me, and I’ll walk slow.”
“Are you sure you know the way?”
“With both eyes shut.”
As Malcolm’s fingers closed around hers, Jenny remembered the icy-cold touch of that other hand and tried not to cringe. I must have imagined it.… it was only a draft, like Malcolm said. He would have heard something … he would have known … Trying not to think about it anymore, she blindly followed Malcolm’s lead. It was so dark, she couldn’t even make out his shape ahead of her, yet she could definitely feel the passageways becoming more twisted. How do I know he’s taking me to Dad? Suppose he’s leading me completely away—Dad won’t even miss me until it’s too late—
“Ah. Here at last.”
Jenny hadn’t realized he’d stopped. As she plowed into him, Malcolm steadied her with his free arm.
“Where are we?” Jenny demanded. She could feel him pushing her away, but she was afraid to turn loose.
“The great hall. Where I believe your father is enjoying his dinner.”
“His dinner?”
Without warning a door creaked open, revealing a sudden burst of softly flickering torchlight. It was a huge room, wide and long, hung with tapestries and shields and the stuffed, mounted heads of wild animals. A fireplace took up one entire wall, and as Jenny moved cautiously forward, the sweet fragrance of herbs drifted up from the rush-strewn floor. Several dogs skulked into corners as she passed, but though they cast her wary looks, they didn’t seem particularly interested. Approaching the raised dais at the end of the room, she not only recognized her father at the oversize table there, but realized there were three other people sitting and talking around him, their faces indistinguishable in the throbbing lights and shadows from many candles.
“Father,” Malcolm announced, steering Jenny to the base of the platform. “It seems we have an unexpected … visitor.”
“Jenny!” Mr. Logan exclaimed cheerfully, looking up from his plate. “Oh … have you been outside all this time? This is Sir John. Sir John, my daughter.”
The room went silent. As Jenny paused beside the dais, she had the unsettling impression of eyes creeping over her, stares emanating from the deep wells of darkness around the table. Shadows flickered up the walls as seconds dragged into endless minutes.
“Daughter?” It was an elderly voice which spoke at last from the head chair. Jenny heard its cool, smooth tone, its guarded politeness, and felt an unexpected shiver up her spine. “I don’t recall any mention of a daughter, Mr. Logan.”
“Right. My wife’s idea. Well, ex-wife,” Dad clarified, shrugging his shoulders. “Quality time, get to know each other—that kind of thing.”
Same old Dad … Jenny stiffened at her father’s indifference; she opened her mouth angrily, but he rushed on.
“She won’t be any trouble, Sir John, I promise you that. In fact, she’ll be helping me with my notes.”
Again the heavy silence … the slow inspection by hidden eyes … as if whoever else was there, concealed in the shadows, had suddenly held his breath. Jenny wanted to turn, to run, but could only stare helplessly as Sir John leaned forward into the candlelight.
“She shouldn’t have come—” a voice began from the other side of the table, but the old man cut it off with an abrupt gesture and raked Jenny from head to foot with his eyes.
“Lovely,” the old man murmured. “So very … lovely. Come closer.”
Jenny felt Malcolm’s hand on her back, nudging her forward. She could see Sir John more clearly now—his startlingly gaunt face, silver hair flowing to his shoulders, silver goatee upon his chin. As she stared back at him, he squinted down at her, much like a predator gauging its kill.
“Well done, Malcolm,” he murmured. “Well done, indeed.”
“But she shouldn’t be here.” Again the voice in the shadows spoke; again Sir John dismissed it.
“What my other son is trying to say, Miss Logan, is that girls—forgive me—young women—are a rarity at Worthington Hall. Sit there.”
“Excuse me—” Jenny began, but Sir John shook his head.
“I did just say sit, did I not? Or am I a total fool?”
“No, my lord, I’m the fool,” another voice piped up. “You’re merely senile.”
There was an undercurrent of laughter, and to Jenny’s increasing discomfort, a jester suddenly popped out from the shadows along the wall, the belled tassels on his cap jingling merrily. He had a cute, boyish face, and eyes that crinkled up to match his mischievous grin, and as Jenny backed away, he leapt lightly onto the table and squatted on his heels, looking down at her.
“A game!” the jester announced. “So many of us—and only one Jenny. Who will win her heart?”
Nervously Jenny realized that Malcolm had seated himself at the table, leaving her alone on the floor.
“I saw her first,”—Malcolm winked—“so by right—”
“Or by wrong …” The jester swept his arm in an inclusive gesture. “Make your choice, my lady.”
Jenny was speechless. She stared at the jester and saw him stretch slowly toward her.
“Wit.” The jester offered Jenny a handshake. “At your service.” She hesitated, unsure what to do. Finally she extended her own hand, but he snatched his fingers away, his grin widening.
Jenny flushed, more from anger now than embarrassment.
“Dad”—she fought to keep her voice calm—“I think we should—”
“Wit,” the jester said again, pointing to himself. “And Malcolm.” He indicated the young man who had rescued Jenny, and as Malcolm gave her a smile, Wit continued introductions around the table. “Sir John. And the infamous Derreck.”
At the last name another face materialized from the shadows, and Jenny caught her breath sharply. He had Malcolm’s face, Malcolm’s clothes, even the same amused smile on his lips. Confused, she glanced back at Malcolm and saw both of them turn their heads toward each other, the exact same movement at the exact same moment.
“Twins.” Wit sighed. “Poor Malcolm. Poor Derreck. They’re beside themselves.”
As everyone laughed, Jenny looked helplessly at her father, who was obviously enjoying the whole bizarre scene.
“Do join us, my dear, and forgive our little eccentricities.” Sir John indicated the end of a bench, and Wit jumped down to pull it out, landing lightly as a cat. “We have an insatiable passion for games.”
Jenny hesitated, wondering if Wit would yank the seat out from under her, but he only winked and slid her smoothly up to the table.
“This house is a game, actually,” Sir John went on. “My pet whim … my indulgence, if you will. Full of secrets … mysteries … things that are not what they seem to be. We’ve always been very fond of puzzles, haven’t we, Wit?”
“To be sure.” Wit gave a wry grin. “We’re a very—puzzling—family, my lord.”
Jenny risked a glance around the table. Derreck, Malcolm, and Wit were all watching her, and as she shifted uneasily, she saw a secretive look pass slowly from each of them to the other and back again. She dropped her eyes and felt an inexplicable panic rising in her chest.
“If it’s human interest you’re after,” Sir John said casually, “you’ve certainly come to the right place. I’m sure you’ll find more than enough … atmosphere … to satisfy your creative curiosity.”
“Right down to the family curse,” Wit said dryly.
Sir John stared at Wit with a cold, humorless smile.
“Unfortunately, lightning’s just brought a tree down on top of their car.” Malcolm broke the silence, pushing a platter of food toward Jenny, but she shook her head.
“Really?” Mr. Logan looked amazed at the news.
“Nasty business, that,” Sir John remarked.
“A truly crushing experience,” Wit added.
“I don’t suppose we could stay the night?” Mr. Logan announced cheerfully, leaning back with a smile. Jenny looked at him, incredulous, but he rattled on. “With this damn storm, and everything booked up in town—well, you know, I was just telling Jenny, I think the real story here is this house! I mean, talk about human interest! We could stay here and get some information on your castle and work the fair at the same time! But, hey, wait, I’m being rude here.” He looked properly chastised. “Inviting myself like this—what can I say? Hey, forget it. Of course it’d be great publicity for you—but I don’t want to be out of line, okay? If we could just stay tonight, then tomorrow I could get the car taken care of, and Jenny and I can find a place to stay farther down the road.”
A heavy silence settled over the table.
From the corner of her eye Jenny could see Derreck and Malcolm staring down at their plates. Finally Sir John shifted slightly in his chair, his voice carefully polite.
“Of course you’ll stay over, Mr. Logan. How inconsiderate of me not to offer sooner. We wouldn’t think of turning you out on a night like this.”
Jenny looked wildly at her father. He was positively beaming.
“It’ll be great for the feature,” Mr. Logan said, nodding eagerly. “Being here … getting a real feel for the place.”
Still the boys said nothing. Jenny heard Wit clear his throat, and she knew she wasn’t imagining it this time—that quick, furtive glance passing from each of them to the other.
It wasn’t a look of welcome.
“And where will we … put the girl?” Derreck asked slowly, raising an eyebrow at Jenny.
“Jenny,” Wit corrected, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was leaning toward the fireplace, and the flickering light made strange, distorted patterns over his face. “Long blond hair, sweet blue eyes,” he murmured, “unsuspecting to surprise—”
“You need practice,” Sir John broke in. “Your poems make no sense.”
“Don’t they?” Malcolm whispered.
Again there was a long moment of silence. Sir John sipped thoughtfully at his glass before he finally spoke.
“The tower, I should think.” He picked up a crystal decanter … reached toward Jenny … paused when she shook her head no. “The tower should be … adequate.”
“The tow—” Malcolm began, but Wit’s elbow dug into his side, and he clamped his mouth shut.
“That’s really so nice of you, but we wouldn’t want to impose, would we, Dad,” Jenny said hopefully. She started to get up, but Sir John’s hand shot out and caught her arm. She flinched as he pushed her back down in her seat.
“No imposition, I assure you.” Sir John smiled. “I only hope you won’t find your visit … uneventful.”
4
“You’re being a brat,” Dad said under his breath as he pulled their suitcases from the car. “You’re upsetting me.”
“Because I’m scared to stay here?” Jenny sounded stunned. “How can you say that? Excuse me, but didn’t you notice anything weird going on in there?”
She watched as he walked off several feet, then turned back to face her, his expression angry.
“Just like your mother,” he snorted. “Always trying to ruin my plans—”
“Is there a problem?” Malcolm shouted. “Do you need some help? Hurry—it’s starting to rain again!”
Jenny glanced over to where he and Wit were waiting in one of the doorways of the courtyard.
“Please, Dad,” she whispered, “let’s leave!”
But her father had already stalked away, and as she picked up her suitcase, her heart sank into her stomach.
“A damsel in distress if ever I saw one,” Wit murmured to Jenny as he hurried over to take her bag.
“Sorry about the rooms.” Malcolm’s eyes shifted from Jenny to her father as they headed into the castle. “We weren’t expecting company, so I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in separate wings of the house.”
“What has smelly wings and flies?” Wit demanded.
Malcolm gave him a look. “We don’t want to know.”
“Worthington Hall on a hot summer day.”
“You’re beginning to annoy me.” Malcolm shouldered past him. “And hold that light so they can see where they’re going.”
The four of them wound through yet another maze of corridors and finally stopped outside a heavy wooden door. Malcolm ushered Mr. Logan in and pointed back toward the passageway.
“Derreck’s room is just there on the other side of those stairs,” he said. “And a bathroom, as well. I wouldn’t go wandering round on my own if I were you—some of these doors open into absolutely nothing, and some of the steps are so worn, they’re only good for falling down.”
Jenny couldn’t hear her father’s reply. She watched as Malcolm closed the door and rejoined them.
“Yours is a much nicer room.” He gave her a smile. “Lots more private.”
“That’s a delicate way of putting it,” Wit said.
“You’re making me stay in a tower?” Jenny asked uncertainly. “You mean a real tower—somewhere up there?”
She glanced toward the staircase, but Malcolm shook his head.
“No, not there. We don’t use that wing of the house. It’s … closed off.” Wit was staring at him, but Malcolm didn’t seem to notice. “You’d better use the bathroom here if you need to, before we go on.”
Jenny went inside and shut the door. She felt trapped. As she opened her suitcase on the bathroom floor, she could hear Malcolm and Wit speaking softly in the hall, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying. She ran the tap water as hard as it would go, then pressed her ear against the door.
“—believe it,” someone mumbled. Wit, she thought.
“—have to be careful—” Malcolm?
“—seen him yet—”
“—you know—locked—but locks mean nothing—”
The voices stopped. Uneasily Jenny drew back from the door and finished at the sink.
Stepping out into the corridor, she was surprised to find it deserted. She pressed back into the bathroom doorway and scanned the hall slowly from end to end. Sconces flickered high up on the walls, and the long passage throbbed with shadows. Like it’s breathing … like it’s alive.
“Malcolm?” she whispered. “Wit?”
There was no answer.
Jenny gripped the door with one hand and lowered her suitcase to the floor. What am I worried about? Dad’s room is just down that other hall. I can run … I can scream … He’ll hear me—
They were playing a joke on her. That was it, she tried to reason with herself, that was the whispering she’d heard while she was in the bathroom—they’d been planning some way to scare her, and they were probably hiding right now, watching her, getting such a kick out of seeing her terrified—
“I know you’re there”—Jenny tried to control the trembling in her voice—“so you might as well come out.”
And even as she was speaking, she saw something stir within the shadows at the far end of the passageway, something slip behind the huge tapestry hanging there, so that it billowed faintly along the floor.…
Jenny started toward it.
She didn’t want to, but she knew there wasn’t a choice. If she didn’t face up to the boys now, she’d be at the mercy of their tricks her whole stay.
I’ll sneak up and scare them … That’ll make them think twice about picking on me anymore …
She was closer now … only ten feet away.
Close enough to see the tapestry stirring again—it is moving, isn’t it?—beckoning her.…
And suddenly she could see something … something barely showing just beneath the fringe at the bottom … afoot?—a shoe?
