Read Online Shades of Midnight by Linda Winstead Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Winstead Jones
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Both of them. Eve followed him silently into the room. "It was almost midnight, it was very dark. Someone came up behind Viola, perhaps... said or did something that made her think he was her husband, and then he stabbed her in the back. We saw what happened next. He drew down her wrapper and stabbed her again, and if Mrs. Markham's memory isn't faulty, he then took the bloody garment with him. Why?"
He walked the perimeter of the room as he puzzled on this new possibility. "It rained," he said softly. "What if he got a muddy hand print on the gown, and had to dispose of it so no one would suspect someone from outside the house was here that night."
"It's possible," Eve said. "I'll go over my notes and see if I find anything that supports that supposition."
Lucien shook his head. "No. Notes won't help us with this. There's only one way to find out."
"You can't channel Alistair," Eve said sternly. "I forbid it."
He turned to face her. Eve stood by the door but didn't enter the room. To be honest, she looked poised to make a quick escape. Perhaps she did not want to be in the bedroom with him again.
"You forbid?"
"Remember what happened when you channeled Elliot Alvin? You almost killed O'Hara!"
"Knowing what I know now, perhaps I should have." The man would pay, one day, for getting fresh with Evie. He waved off her concern. "Besides, I'm stronger now than I was then, I have more control." The truth was, channeling drained him. The more control he had during the sessions, the worse he felt after. Last time a spirit had possessed him for a length of more than half an hour, it had taken him two days to recover.
"Lock me in," he demanded as he searched the room for signs of the ghostly couple. There they were, hovering by the dresser. In addition to feeling the ghostly spirits, he now saw them in bits of light Eve could not see.
"What?"
"In case I'm wrong and Alistair is dangerous, I want you safely on the other side of a locked door. I'll call you when I'm finished."
"No," she said stubbornly.
"Evie..."
"You'll need me to listen. You won't remember what he says."
"I'm getting better at that, too," he said. "I'll remember most of what Alistair says when he speaks through me."
"Most?"
"Enough."
Eve pursed her lips. "No!"
Lucien knew just how to send her to the safety of the hallway. He smiled. "You're concerned for me. That's very sweet, Evie. It's also more proof that you do, in fact, love me..."
She couldn't shut the door fast enough. He waited until he heard the lock turn and catch, and then he pulled a wing chair to the center of the room. He sat there, facing the dresser where he saw the flickering traces of light. His feet were planted firmly on the floor, his arms rested on the arms of the chair. His heart pounded hard and fast. No matter how many times he did this, it was always frightening. And exciting.
He took a moment to slow his heartbeat, to make himself connect with the light that teased and danced.
"Alistair," he said, his voice low. "Speak to me. Speak through me."
One of the fragments of light came toward him. Slowly, waveringly. Alistair was no more certain about this than Eve had been.
"I'm here to help," Lucien said, trying to reassure Alistair as he had earlier assured Viola. "Please, let me help you."
After a moment, where the light hovered, waiting, it shot unerringly and quickly toward Lucien's heart.
Lucien felt the spirit enter him. There was a moment of pain, followed by a sensation of a deep peace he never felt when he conversed with the living.
Alistair was here.
Chapter 6
Lucien knew what he was doing. He always did. As he often said, he was a scientist. An expert. He didn't take unnecessary chances.
Eve waited as long as she could, pacing in the hallway, wringing her hands and fiddling with the key she'd used to lock Lucien in that room. Who was she kidding? He did take chances, she knew that too well. He took dangerous risks on every job; he took
He walked the perimeter of the room as he puzzled on this new possibility. "It rained," he said softly. "What if he got a muddy hand print on the gown, and had to dispose of it so no one would suspect someone from outside the house was here that night."
"It's possible," Eve said. "I'll go over my notes and see if I find anything that supports that supposition."
Lucien shook his head. "No. Notes won't help us with this. There's only one way to find out."
"You can't channel Alistair," Eve said sternly. "I forbid it."
He turned to face her. Eve stood by the door but didn't enter the room. To be honest, she looked poised to make a quick escape. Perhaps she did not want to be in the bedroom with him again.
"You forbid?"
"Remember what happened when you channeled Elliot Alvin? You almost killed O'Hara!"
"Knowing what I know now, perhaps I should have." The man would pay, one day, for getting fresh with Evie. He waved off her concern. "Besides, I'm stronger now than I was then, I have more control." The truth was, channeling drained him. The more control he had during the sessions, the worse he felt after. Last time a spirit had possessed him for a length of more than half an hour, it had taken him two days to recover.
"Lock me in," he demanded as he searched the room for signs of the ghostly couple. There they were, hovering by the dresser. In addition to feeling the ghostly spirits, he now saw them in bits of light Eve could not see.
"What?"
"In case I'm wrong and Alistair is dangerous, I want you safely on the other side of a locked door. I'll call you when I'm finished."
"No," she said stubbornly.
"Evie..."
"You'll need me to listen. You won't remember what he says."
"I'm getting better at that, too," he said. "I'll remember most of what Alistair says when he speaks through me."
"Most?"
"Enough."
Eve pursed her lips. "No!"
Lucien knew just how to send her to the safety of the hallway. He smiled. "You're concerned for me. That's very sweet, Evie. It's also more proof that you do, in fact, love me..."
She couldn't shut the door fast enough. He waited until he heard the lock turn and catch, and then he pulled a wing chair to the center of the room. He sat there, facing the dresser where he saw the flickering traces of light. His feet were planted firmly on the floor, his arms rested on the arms of the chair. His heart pounded hard and fast. No matter how many times he did this, it was always frightening. And exciting.
He took a moment to slow his heartbeat, to make himself connect with the light that teased and danced.
"Alistair," he said, his voice low. "Speak to me. Speak through me."
One of the fragments of light came toward him. Slowly, waveringly. Alistair was no more certain about this than Eve had been.
"I'm here to help," Lucien said, trying to reassure Alistair as he had earlier assured Viola. "Please, let me help you."
After a moment, where the light hovered, waiting, it shot unerringly and quickly toward Lucien's heart.
Lucien felt the spirit enter him. There was a moment of pain, followed by a sensation of a deep peace he never felt when he conversed with the living.
Alistair was here.
Chapter 6
Lucien knew what he was doing. He always did. As he often said, he was a scientist. An expert. He didn't take unnecessary chances.
Eve waited as long as she could, pacing in the hallway, wringing her hands and fiddling with the key she'd used to lock Lucien in that room. Who was she kidding? He did take chances, she knew that too well. He took dangerous risks on every job; he took
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