House of Whispers Page 7

  She flung one arm across the desk. Her outstretched hand touched the deck of cards.

  Heat flowed into her from the cards. The stiffness drained from her limbs. She was going to live. Triumph ran quick and hot through her veins.

  The cold swirled around her. It wanted her back, she knew.

  Amy closed her eyes. She concentrated on the heat flowing through her body. The cards pulsed in her hands. The eerie cold retreated, flowing away like ice from a flame.

  Amy sagged into Angelica’s chair. Her arms and legs shook with relief. Death had been close, so close.

  But she won. She used the power, and won. She defeated whatever force had caused that awful cold. She beat it.

  The cards throbbed in her hand, reminding her of her purpose. She had to know if there would be more killing. . . if David would take another victim.

  “It is time,” she murmured.

  The rain grew heavier, pounding at the windows. A far-off flash of lightning flickered across the sky.

  Amy lit the lamp and set it on the desk. She picked up the cards and began to shuffle. She was not frightened of them anymore. They had helped her. Their power had become her power.

  This was the power Angelica wanted for her. All Amy had to do was learn to use it. Her way. Not Angelica’s way—hers.

  She finished shuffling. The cards almost seemed to move on their own as she cut them.

  “Tell me the future,” Amy whispered. “Three deaths have occurred. Will there be more?” She laid the cards out in a new pattern, her hands moving quickly and precisely.

  One of the cards immediately caught her attention. The card had a deep blue background. It pictured a blond woman sitting on a tall throne. She held a staff in one hand, a sunflower in the other. A black cat sat at her feet.

  Amy ran her fingertip along the card’s smooth surface. There was something familiar about the woman . . .

  Amy stiffened. The woman looked like Chantal.

  The card blurred, the picture fading into the deep blue of the background.

  Then the blue surface rippled.

  It looked like . . . water.

  Amy blinked, but the illusion stayed.

  The blue widened and deepened, and Amy realized that she was gazing at the fish pond.

  She felt herself floating toward it.

  No! No! She did not want to go there.

  But she had somehow become lighter than air. Helpless to fight the wind that pushed her onward.

  She knew how this vision would end—in death. There was no escape.

  Amy floated above the pond, several inches away from the surface. Chantal smiled at her from beneath the water. Amy tried to call out a warning, but her voice made no sound.

  Chantal’s smile faded. Her eyes grew wide with terror. And she began to drown.

  Amy reached for her. She knew she could not save Chantal, but she had to try. Amy’s hand brushed the surface of the water.

  Amy could feel Chantal’s fear inside her own body. Somehow, she and Chantal were linked together the moment Amy touched the water. Amy could feel everything Chantal felt.

  The water dragged at her heavy skirts, keeping her from reaching safety. Terror sent jagged red patches floating across her vision. Her lungs burned. She needed to breathe. But she could not.

  There was water all around her. If she took a breath, water would fill her lungs.

  Agony shot through her chest. Her lungs screamed for air. Air. She needed air. She had to take a breath.

  Amy fought the pain. She reached down and caught Chantal’s hands. She struggled to pull Chantal to the surface.

  Amy felt her muscles tear. Any moment her arms would rip away from their sockets.

  But Amy did not let go. If only she could stop this awful vision somehow. If only she could drag Chantal to the surface and make her live again . . .

  A shadowy figure swam up from the depths of the water. A man. He clamped his hands on Chantal’s shoulders. His fingers digging into her flesh.

  David. It was David.

  David tore Chantal away from Amy. Dragged her beneath the water.

  Bubbles streamed from Chantal’s mouth and nose. Her face contorted. She began to die.

  And in the water below, the fish waited.

  They would go for the soft parts first.

  Amy tore her gaze away. And found herself staring straight into Chantal’s despairing eyes. She knew, too. She knew who the fish were waiting for. What they would do.

  Her mouth opened in awful, soundless screams. Dying screams.

  Everything went black. I am dying, Amy thought. I am dying with Chantal.

  Then the connection between Chantal and Amy broke.

  Amy could see clearly again. She drew in a deep breath. She was alive.

  But something was still happening in the fish pond. Chantal’s face was changing.

  Chantal’s features shifted and flowed, as though the flesh had turned liquid. Lines appeared on her forehead and around her mouth. Her blond hair turned to brown streaked with gray.

  “No,” Amy gasped. “Please no.”

  The face in the pond had become Mrs. Hathaway’s. Would Mrs. Hathaway be the next to die? Was that what this horrible vision meant?

  The older woman reached out to Amy. Begging for help. Begging to live.

  Mrs. Hathaway screamed those same terrible, silent screams.

  Then David swam up behind her and grabbed her. He dragged her down into the water. Down, down, down.

  Down to the fish.

  Chapter

  13

  “David, stop!” Amy cried, jumping to her feet.

  The image shattered.

  Amy stared down at the cards. Her entire body trembled. She knew the truth now. She knew the truth. She knew what the future held.

  Mrs. Hathaway would be the next to die.

  It was going to happen soon. Tonight. Now.

  And David was going to kill her.

  Amy ran from the room. Her slippers rasped on the oak floor as she dashed down the stairs and out the front door.

  The rain soaked her hair, her dressing gown. Lightning flashed, followed by thunder that almost shook the ground.

  Amy ignored it. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to Mrs. Hathaway.

  “Please,” she panted. “Please do not let me be too late. I cannot be too late this time.”

  She jumped over a fallen branch, sending up a spray of water. She could see the Hathaway mansion now. There was no light in any of the windows.

  What would she find there? Would she be in time to save Mrs. Hathaway?

  Amy forced herself to run faster. She slipped as she ran up the steps to the mansion, skidding painfully on her knees.

  But she was up a moment later. She had to be in time. She had to.

  The door was unlocked. Amy flung it open and rushed inside. Lightning flared across the sky. Searing white light speared into the house.

  And there, at the top of the long, steep staircase, stood Mrs. Hathaway.

  The lightning faded. Now all Amy could see was the pale cloth of Mrs. Hathaway’s nightgown.

  “Mrs. Hathaway!” Amy called.

  The woman did not answer. Another bolt of lightning lit the staircase.

  Mrs. Hathaway’s eyes were blank and empty. Unseeing as a sleepwalker’s.

  She took a step closer to the edge of the staircase.

  The room went dim again.

  “Mrs. Hathaway!” Amy screamed. “Claire!”

  Amy ran toward the stairs. Her legs moved with a strange, dreamlike slowness. Too slow. She knew she would be too late.

  Now she could make out thick shadows behind Mrs. Hathaway. They formed a wall—a wall that was pushing her forward.

  Mrs. Hathaway teetered at the very edge of the staircase.

  One more step—and she would fall all the way down.

  Mrs. Hathaway lifted one foot. Held it poised in the air.

  Rage flooded through Amy. She had not come thi
s far only to fail!

  “No!” Amy cried. She shoved her arms out in front of her as though to push the older woman back. “Stop!”

  The shadows behind Mrs. Hathaway almost seemed to hesitate. She stood motionless, frozen with one foot in the air.

  David walked out of the darkness behind Mrs. Hathaway, his expression hard and grim.

  He reached out and grabbed his mother by the shoulder.

  It is going to happen, Amy thought. And there is nothing I can do to stop it. I cannot reach her in time.

  David is going to kill his mother.

  Chapter

  14

  Lightning flashed again. Glinting off David’s black eye patch.

  His fingers dug into his mother’s shoulders.

  Amy tried to scream, but no sound came out.

  Then David dragged his mother away from the edge of the staircase. Back to safety.

  Surprise and relief raged through Amy in a wild flood. She had thought such horrible things about David! But she was wrong.

  Amy felt as though all her bones had melted. She sank to her knees, completely drained.

  “Mother,” David called. When she did not respond, he shook her gently. “Mother!”

  Mrs. Hathaway gave a start. Awareness came rushing into her face. “What happened?” she gasped. “How did I get here?”

  “You were sleepwalking,” David explained. His face looked pale in the flickering light of the storm. “If I had not heard Amy calling you . . .” Suddenly, fiercely, he hugged his mother.

  Tears flooded Amy’s eyes. She had never before seen such raw emotion, such love, in a man’s face. And she knew, as surely as she knew her own name, that David could not have killed Chantal or any woman.

  Amy did not want to cry. Once she started, she might not be able to stop. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes to hold the tears in.

  She had been confused—but no more. She would never, ever doubt David again.

  “You . . . you said Amy called me?” Mrs. Hathaway asked. “Is she here?”

  Gently, David turned her around. Her eyes widened as she saw Amy kneeling on the floor below.

  “If I had not heard Amy cry out, you would have fallen and broken your neck.”

  “How did she know . . . ?” Mrs. Hathaway’s voice trailed away.

  “I would like the answer to that as well,” David replied.

  He led his mother downstairs. Then he bent down and helped Amy to her feet.

  Gently, he grasped Amy’s chin and tilted her face up. “How did this happen?” he asked.

  She glanced away, sure that David would find her repulsive if he knew the truth. But she had to tell him. She took a deep breath.

  “When I came to stay with my cousin Angelica, she showed me a strange deck of cards. She told me that she had the power to use the cards to read the future. And she said I also had the power—if I wanted it.”

  David and his mother stared at Amy for what seemed like a lifetime. What are they thinking? she wondered. Do they think such power only comes from evil? What can they think of me?

  “Did you learn to use the cards?” David asked.

  “Yes, but not like Angelica. She knows the meaning of each card, and the combinations of cards. But the cards . . . call to me. They tell me things.”

  “What things?” Mrs. Hathaway demanded.

  She sounded frightened. Amy did not blame her. The strange power still scared her.

  “They showed me that three people would die, and they did,” Amy replied.

  David drew his breath in sharply. “Nellie, Bernice, and Chantal.”

  Amy heard Mrs. Hathaway whimper low in her throat.

  “How did you know to come here tonight?” David asked. He rubbed his hand back and forth over his good eye.

  Amy rushed on. “I knew something awful was going to happen to you tonight, Mrs. Hathaway. The cards gave me a vision. So I ran over as fast as I could. But I would have been too late. If David had not been here . . .”

  She could not finish the sentence. The memory was still too real, too raw.

  “I am afraid,” Amy whispered. A wave of cold swept through her. “From the moment I came here, I have been surrounded by death. I have watched people die—over and over and over. It is as if I am the center of a storm. I cannot stop it, I cannot get away, and it will go on and on—” Amy broke off. If she said another word she would burst into tears.

  “No,” David growled. “It will stop now. You are not going back to that house.”

  “David is right,” Mrs. Hathaway agreed. “You will stay here with us, where it is safe.”

  They did not hate her! They did not think she was evil. Tears stung the back of Amy’s eyelids.

  She only wished she could believe them about being safe. More than anything, she wanted to feel safe.

  “I have to go back,” she told them.

  Shock widened David’s good eye. “You cannot!” he protested. “I will not allow you to put yourself in danger.”

  “But I am not in danger,” she pointed out. “I am only afraid—afraid of what I will have to see next.”

  “What about Angelica?” David interrupted. “There are many rumors about her ability to perform dark magic. Could she be responsible for the deaths?”

  Amy wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. “Yes,” she answered. How could she ever have believed David was the killer?

  “Then why are you going back?” David demanded.

  “I am family,” Amy replied. “She would never hurt me. But no one else is safe—including you and your mother if you try to help me.”

  Mrs. Hathaway’s eyes widened. “You mean—”

  “If I stay here with you, she will know I turned against her,” Amy explained. “And she will come after me. You will both be in terrible danger.”

  “Do not worry about that. I—” David began.

  “No,” Amy begged. “You do not understand her power.”

  “What do you suggest?” Mrs. Hathaway asked.

  “My parents will surely send for me soon. I think Angelica will let me go to them without a struggle. So all I have to do is wait until that happens. I will pretend nothing unusual has happened, and I will be very, very careful.”

  “I do not like it,” David growled.

  “But there is no other way,” Amy pointed out. “You saw what happened here tonight. You saw what she can do. I have to go back.”

  “She is right, David.” Mrs. Hathaway’s voice shook. “But Amy, you must promise you will let us know at once if you are in danger.”

  “I will,” Amy promised.

  “Let me take you home,” David said. Reluctantly, he wrapped one of his mother’s cloaks around Amy’s wet shoulders. Then he led her out into the garden. Rain still splattered down, but the storm had moved off to the south.

  As soon as they were out of sight of the house, David pulled Amy to a stop.

  “Amy . . .” He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I must tell you something. I am in love with you.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “I think I knew it from the first time I met you. But I was afraid. I thought you would turn away from me because of this.” He touched his patch.

  “That is the silliest thing I ever heard,” she said. “I told you it didn’t bother me—and you know I always speak my mind.”

  David grinned. Amy flung her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.”

  He kissed her. She held on tight, wishing she never had to let him go. But finally, she stepped back.

  “The night Bernice died . . .” she paused, staring into his face. “You told me never to trust you. Why?”

  His smile faded. “In the war, I made friends with a boy from South Carolina. He said he was sixteen, but I knew he could not be older than fourteen. His father died in the fighting. He left his mother and five sisters alone to take his father’s place. I swore to myself that I would protect him. He tr
usted me.”

  With a sigh, David raked his hand through his hair. “I failed him. He was killed, and I could not do a thing to stop it. I never wanted to feel that pain again. So I made myself a different promise. I vowed never to be responsible for another person.”

  David stared down at Amy. “And then you came along,” he continued. “I did everything I could to leave you alone. But I could not. I want you to trust me. And I want you to depend on me to keep you safe.”

  “I do trust you,” she murmured.

  He let his breath out in a harsh sigh. Then he reached up and pulled something shiny from beneath his shirt. “I want you to have this,” he said, setting it in her hand.

  It was a gold ring with loops of delicate ivy etched across it. It hung on a delicate chain.

  “It is beautiful,” Amy murmured.

  “It belonged to my grandmother, and her mother before her,” David told her. His hand closed over hers, locking the ring in her palm.

  Tears stung Amy’s eyes. “Oh, David.” She slipped the chain over her head and tucked the ring beneath her dress. It felt perfect there, just beside her heart.

  “I should get you home,” David said. “Before I change my mind about letting you go at all.”

  They did not talk as they walked toward the Fear mansion. They did not need to. Amy lifted her face into the cool breeze the storm had left behind. Her heart felt too big for her chest. David loved her!

  The house loomed over them in the darkness. Amy wished she could turn and run, and never go inside it again.

  “There is still time to change your mind,” David whispered. “All you have to do is tell me, and we will leave.”

  Before Amy could say anything, the door swung open.

  Light poured out, pinning them in its brightness.

  Angelica stared at them from the doorway.

  Chapter

  15

  Angelica’s eyes appeared as cold and hard as ice.

  “I did not know you were out, Amy,” she said softly.

  David stepped forward. “She was with us, Mrs. Fear.”

  “Indeed,” Angelica replied. “Well, thank you for bringing her back, David. I will take care of her now.”

  Before he could say anything more, Amy hurried into the house. She turned back just as Angelica closed the door. Closing Amy in. Closing David out.