Ghost Whispers by Renee Roszel

Author:Renee Roszel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780373256129
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1994-04-14T21:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Seven

Nicked looked over over his shoulder at the wavering apparition, and Alice could feel tension humming through him. She could also detect his scent—the musky scent she remembered all too well—hovering just beneath a light, spicy after-shave. She tried to draw away, hoping that memories of last night would fade if she put distance between them.

But when he didn't release her, she didn't really protest—she was still too afraid.

"Alice," he said softly, "this is Theora Percival, the castle's resident ghost."

Managing to tear her gaze from the ghost, she met his eyes as she worked to maintain her fragile control. She must have looked terrified, for his expression grew compassionate. "Do you want to hear her story?"

She couldn't reply immediately. Her brain apparently wasn't functioning properly. "Tell—tell it t-to g-go," she stuttered at last.

He smiled sympathetically. "I'm afraid she'll only go when she's ready to go."

Alice looked at the ghost, which wavered above her like a character from a black-and-white movie projected onto a screen of smoke. Intangible, unbelievable, but still threatening. She could only stare speechlessly.

"As the story goes," Nick began, "Theora was the seventeen-year-old daughter of a local shopkeeper. The castle had been newly built by Denby Percival, that gold miner I told you about. He was forty years her senior and in ill health at the time. But he became enamored of her and asked her to marry him. When she accepted, everyone was sure she was after his money. As fate would have it, she died first, after only two years of marriage." He shifted to look down at Alice. "That was one hundred and ten years ago."

"How did she die?" she asked, surprised to hear her thought spoken aloud.

"They don't know. Records say she wasted away in what doctors called 'detached melancholia.'"

"She's why Zarta can't keep assistants," Alice said with conviction.

"Yes. Fear of the voiceless demon of Percival Castle."

"Good reason," she muttered, then gave him a narrowed glance. "Why didn't you tell me about that—that thing?"

He shrugged. "I did, but you didn't believe me."

He was right about that, she realized. He'd told her just before they'd entered the castle. She supposed if he'd mentioned it back in Kansas City, she'd have thought he was nutty and wouldn't have taken the job. Not that that was a bad idea! "Well, maybe you should have tried harder."

"Maybe I should have," he admitted, and Alice sensed a note of remorse in his voice. He was looking at Theora now. Alice followed his gaze and winced as she watched the ghost's entreating gestures and the continual opening and closing of her rotting lips. "I wonder what it's saying."

"She's saying, 'Where is my sheltering tree?'" he explained. "That's what she always asks."

"How do you know?"

"I read lips." He turned to look at her. "Did I mention I was once deaf?"

She did know it, but only because Zarta had told her this morning. With a chastising glance she said, "I think you and I need to sit down and have a long talk about everything you've neglected to tell me.

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