His Cemetery Doll by Brantwijn Serrah

Author:Brantwijn Serrah [Serrah, Brantwijn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal, dark romance, graveyard, ghost romance, ghost, sexy ghost story, haunting, historical haunting, erotic ghost story, undead, cemetery
Publisher: Foreplay and Fangs Erotic Romance
Published: 2015-05-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

"Dad?"

Conall rolled over in bed with a grunt. "Shyla, go back to bed."

"Dad, it's time to wake up."

"Shy," he warned, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "I won't ask you again, go to—"

No one there.

Conall blinked. "Bloody hell...not again..."

He sat up, brushing long hair out of his eyes. The night air made him shiver, even under his thick quilt. When he peered around his dark room, however, the doll's mist hadn't appeared. A glance at his window showed a clear night. He could see all the way down to—

His stomach dropped. He could see all the way down to Maya's ring, and Shyla stood there, barefoot and in her white nightgown, alone.

"Damnit," he muttered, lunging up from the bed and grabbing his denims. "What is she doing down there?"

Hurrying for the stairs, he stumbled, and his knee slipped, sending him to the floor. He swore loudly, slamming a fist against the wood and pushing himself up.

"Dad! Dad, what's going on?"

Shyla appeared beside him, kneeling to help him up. As he found a sitting position, he stared at her.

"Shyla? I..."

He glanced downstairs. "I...were you...in your room this whole time?"

His daughter cocked her head to the side.

"Of course. I heard you yell, and it woke me up."

He kneaded his temples.

"I... saw you in the graveyard. I mean...I imagined I saw you..."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said. He leaned forward and rubbed at his knee. It hurt, but a bad bruise would be the worst of it.

Shyla sat next to him, scrutinizing him. Even in the unlit hallway, her mismatched eyes were shining and kittenish as she searched his face.

"You saw me in the graveyard?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Obviously a dream," he muttered. His head ached. "This business has all gotten out of hand, Shy. We can't keep living with this."

"You mean," she asked, "with a ghost?"

"Ghosts don't exist," he snapped before he could help it.

"Then...it's a curse, isn't it?"

Silence stretched out. Conall closed his eyes and put his head in his hands.

"Dad?" Shyla finally said. "I want to go down there."

"What? No. We're not going to play into this, Shyla."

"But she's here for a reason. Whatever she is...she's trying to tell us something. We have to communicate with her somehow, or she'll keep haunting us forever! Unless..."

She idly drew little circles on the floor with one finger. "Unless...you want to leave the cemetery."

He hadn't even considered it. At least, he hadn't considered leaving it himself. He had been debating, again, whether or not he ought to take Fred up on the offer to see Shyla off to the Sisters of Saint Margaret, to keep her out of harm's way.

Shyla would never agree. It wasn't a solution he could really present to her, even if it did make the best solution in his mind.

Why so eager to have Shyla away, and yet not consider sparing yourself?

Thoughts of the doll's beckoning motions, her lithe movements, and the silk of her touch invaded his mind. He wanted to push them away, but he couldn't find the heart to.

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