THE FROST ESTATE
DEARBORNE, MARYLAND
Denieve
____________________________
Luke came bearing gifts twenty minutes later, but he looked rain-soaked and sick as a dog. Gauging from the bloodshot eyes and runny nose, his little bug appeared to be a full-blown case of the flu. He drove me crazy sometimes, but I'd never stop caring about him. Or worrying. I apologized for being a royal bitch on the phone and sent him off, making him promise to go straight to bed.
I went back upstairs to grab a shower and had just cinched the belt on my robe when the EVP alarm sounded. The library. I dashed downstairs and threw the double doors open. The portable EMF monitor in my pocket started pulsating like crazy.
This was the only room, besides my own, that wasn't an eyesore. Ms. Pierce had decorated the huge space with some beautiful Shaker antique pieces, high-end stuff costing more than most people made in a lifetime.
As I crept past a wall of security monitors, something smacked my shoulder. I tore around, ducking just in time. Three hardbacks flew at me like missiles.
A dictionary whizzed by my ear. "What the hell?"
Two more tomes zipped by, barely missing my face. I ducked again and wrapped my arms around my head, but the books kept coming until an entire row lay gutted from one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Cold, ghostly fingers grabbed at my elbow, but I yanked away.
"Caryn! Is that you?"
A voice whispered in my mind, 'Yes.'
I slapped a palm over my thundering heart. "Are you trying to scare me to death? First you trash my room and now this!"
And just like that, everything stopped. Silence echoed around me. Had it not been for the EMF monitor still vibrating in my pocket, I'd have thought she was gone. But then I felt her cold hand again, only this time she was gentle.
'Sorry,' she said. 'My powers- - -when I get too excited, it's hard to control them.'
"Where did you go? Why did you leave?"
'I was weak and I had to get back.'
"To where?"
She didn't answer.
Her silence triggered every emotion I'd suppressed about our ill-fated friendship. All the guilt and the doubts, all the resentment and pain came bobbing to the surface.
As for Caryn, rage had consumed her in the past. She'd refused my hospital visits, and for years afterwards, all my letters came back stamped "RETURN TO SENDER." But now she needed me, and scary as it was, I thanked God for the opportunity.
"Do you have any idea how much I m-miss you, Caryn?"
She didn't speak for several seconds. 'I think I missed you more.'
My heart leapt with joy as I struggled to compose myself. I was so overwhelmed, I scarcely noticed she'd led me across the room to the shelf she'd just emptied. She exerted gentle pressure on my shoulder until I knelt, then she guided my hand to an area beneath the top left corner.
Something cold and metallic brushed against my fingertips. An ornamental key was wedged between the wainscoting and the wall. It would've been inaccessible had the books still been there.
Made of brass, the gilded stem was as long as my pinky finger and the decorative handle lay encrusted with jewels...and something else: an intangible energy that brimmed with a sense of time. No, scratch that, more like history. Centuries teeming with joy, heartbreak, and tears.
The key was simply beautiful. "What's it for?"
'It unlocks a secret.'
"Don't be cryptic," I said. "Tell me what- -"
While I was still speaking, a red rose blossomed in front of me. The thing was huge. Somehow she'd remembered my symbol for affection and generated this visual aura.
'I loved him,' she told me, 'but he didn't feel the same.'
"Loved who?"
'Braeden.'
It took me a second to process her admission. For some reason it made me feel...oh, I don't know. Uncomfortable maybe?
"Is...ah...is that the secret?" I asked.
'No.'
She appeared now, her body engulfed in flames just like before, only this time her white eyes brimmed with tears. I wanted to tap into her emotional well, but just like the last time, I couldn't read her.
My best guess was that our bodies channeled emotion by providing order, control, and direction. Ghosts were spirits, so without a body as a conduit, their energy remained raw, chaotic, and untethered. Maybe that was why I only got white noise from Caryn.
She stared at me for a long time before saying, 'Braeden needs you, hon. I need you- - -to help him.'
"Help him?" I blinked several times. "You mean he didn't kill you?"
'No.'
Knock me over with a whisper. "But you told your mother- -"
'That you needed to investigate him.'
So she lied.
Confusion, relief, suspicion, and anger hit me. Once I finally recovered the power of speech, I said very carefully, "Rachel left me forty thousand dollars in her will. Part of that was to fund"- - -I gestured at the room- - -"this. The only reason I took the case is because you led her to believe Frost had something to do with your death."
'He didn't.'
I tossed a hand. "Then why am I here?"
'A withering bud awaits the kiss of rain, a kindness to make it bloom.'
I did a double take. "Huh?"
The wail of the front gate shot from the surround-sound speakers. I speared a frantic look at the security monitor. Braeden Frost was pulling into the courtyard. "Oh, my God. He's early." When Caryn vanished in a puff of smoke, I yelled at the ceiling, "This isn't over!"
Then I sprang into action, jamming fallen books into every available space on the shelf. Never mind some were upside down or sticking out a good two inches. Once I'd done all I could, I hurried from the library only to freeze in my tracks. Frost stood by the front door draped in shadow.
I knew what he saw- - -a mess. My lumpy robe and fuzzy slippers had to look ridiculous. Not to mention my hair. It floated all over the place, spilling thick and wild down my back.
I pushed a stray lock behind my ear. "Um, good evening, Dr. Frost."
Thunder growled and lightning lit the entire first floor, bright enough for me to see his head snap up. He blinked hard, as if returning from a dark place in his mind.
He hadn't seen me. I opened myself up to read him and found that, while his wall was still up, it had weakened. Bitterness and despair trickled out of him. The former tasted sour, like apple cider vinegar, while despair had an odor similar to dry leaves right before the burning.
Once again, he reeked of Residual Death. Standard fare for someone who'd just visited a cemetery, but the intensity gave me pause. The scent was way more pungent this time.
Lightning flared again, allowing me to make another visual assessment of him. He looked disoriented, disheveled, and drenched to the bone. Something had happened, something horrible, and its disturbing residue had followed him home.
Caryn may have cleared him of her murder, but what about the nineteen other people? No, I wasn't here for them, I reminded myself, yet I couldn't help but wonder.
"Is everything all right, sir?" Still sensing Caryn's presence, I glanced around, then took a wary step toward him. "You look...troubled."
He closed his eyes briefly. "What?"
"I asked if you were okay."
He ignored my question, shrugged out of his trench coat, and tossed the rain-soaked thing over a chair. Water pooled on the floor. "I'm expecting a call from my brother Xavier. It should be within the hour."
A brother? How the heck had I missed that? "Uh...okay. Would you like me to heat your dinner up? I made a delicious shepherd's- -"
Frost cleared his throat. "Miss Reed, I'd planned to wait until tomorrow, but now is as good a time as any." He stepped closer, stopping several feet away. A wordless apology floated in his haunted eyes. "There's been a change in plans, so your- - -I'm afraid your services are no longer required."
"Excuse me?"
"I have to let you go," he said in a quiet whisper.
It took a while before his words finally sank in. "But-but- - -you're still relocating, aren't you? Who'll handle the sale, and the packing and the movers and- -"
"I'm making other arrangements."
This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"
"No."
"Then why are you firing me?"
Frost glanced off; a dark haze clouded his countenance. "Trust me," he said. "It's for the best."
A flash of lightning filled the room with an eerie glow. I stifled a gasp when the image of a skull and crossbones briefly eclipsed his features. I'd seen the disturbing thing once before on my late mother- - -the night before she died.
Fear struck me with the force of a tsunami.
You must...help him.
Frost went back for his trench coat, then mounted the stairs like he'd just run a marathon. The sound of his rain-soaked shoes filled the awkward silence while he climbed.
"You don't want me to leave now, do you?" I asked dumbstruck, my heart pounding.
"Of course not. I'd never send you out on a night like this." He reached the top landing and exhaled sharply as he gazed down. "Tomorrow afternoon will be sufficient. Anything you need, travel expenses, references, all you have to do is ask. I'll have Angela forward you three months' severance by the end of the week. Along with a generous bonus for your trouble."
He started down the hall.
"B-but, sir- -"
"Good night, Miss Reed. Sleep well."
* * *
Denieve
____________________________
Worry had eaten me alive by the time the mysterious Xavier Frost phoned fifteen minutes later. Apparently "Hello," "Good Evening," or "Is Dr. Frost available?" was too much of a bother. Instead, I got, "Put Braeden on the phone," before I'd even finished saying, "Frost residence."
And if I thought listening in on the call would clue me in, I was sorely mistaken. Frost had asked, "Did you get there in time?" His brother hesitated for a beat as if he were about to deliver some bad news. "Barely," he finally answered. "This weather's a bitch."
After that, they could've been barking Martian for all I knew. Their voices were very similar, but when they started speaking in a weird foreign language, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. Frost mentioned my name somewhere in there, but everything else was gibberish.
I can pretty much recognize most dialects, yet theirs went beyond my pay grade. I swear the words sounded like a mishmash of French, Japanese, and Italian with a few vocal tics thrown in for good measure.
I gave up on them and started pacing my room. At this point, Caryn's bewildering "help him" request took on new meaning and urgency. Braeden Frost was going to die soon and I didn't know how to prevent it.
Trying to think of a way to get myself unfired burned me for hours, but I couldn't come up with anything, so I went to bed, deciding to make a fresh go of it in the morning. I'd almost drifted off when a thunderclap startled me awake. I'd gotten into the habit of sleeping with my weapon, and bolted upright, Magnum in hand, stabbing its nose into the shadows.
What felt like the storm of the century had settled directly over the house. All the lights suddenly died and a blood-curdling shriek pierced the darkness. This time I leapt out of bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets. If I hadn't heard the groans bleeding through the ceiling and the loud crash afterward, I'd have thought I'd imagined it. The noise had come from the room directly above mine- - -Frost's lab.
I groped around for the intercom box on my nightstand and stabbed the contact button. The system automatically switched over to battery power when the electricity died. "Dr. Frost?" God I hated the panic in my voice. "Sir?" Static crackled in the background. I tried again. "Are you there?"
No answer. Buzzing him five minutes straight didn't get me anywhere either. What if the little old man found a way inside? Or perhaps it was the guy in the blue sedan. Maybe he was a family member of one of Frost's patients. Maybe he'd broken in to get revenge. It wasn't such a stretch. I mean, no security system was foolproof.
I dialed 911, but all I got was, "We're sorry, all circuits are busy...."
Six more tries yielded the same annoying recording. My cell phone proved just as useless. Not only had the storm screwed up the landlines, but the signal was out as well.
I had two choices. Let fate decide Frost's lot, while I cowered in here, battling a crazed imagination and an equally loud conscience (but that meant whatever trouble lay outside my door might come storming in). Or, I could....
Okay, yeah, so every horror movie I'd ever seen had a TSTL heroine who got it in her mind to venture into the dark basement or the dark woods or the dark tunnel or whatever. Meanwhile, we all screamed at her to turn around, yet the stupid cow went anyway.
Well, tonight that stupid cow was me.
After shoving into the first pair of shoes my toes found, I grabbed my Magnum and stuffed my cell phone into my robe pocket. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rose as I pointed the gun and made my way up to the third floor. The hallway was dark, but empty. Once I reached his door- - -it was locked- - -I pressed an ear to the thick wood.
"Dr. Frost?" I whispered.
Still no answer. I snagged the brass key Caryn had given me from my pocket, but ramming the thing into the lock six different times didn't change the end result. Panic set in and I started banging on the door wholesale.
"Dr. Frost! Are you all ri- -"
The sound of shattering glass drowned my words. On instinct, I pointed my weapon at the lock, turned my head and fired. The blast ripped down the hallway, but an eerie silence lingered after the smoke finally cleared.
I stood for a few nanoseconds, trying to determine my next move. True, I should've done my thinking waaay before now, but I was making things up as I went along. Once I nudged the door open, I pressed my back against the jamb and peeked around the corner. My knees felt as steady as Silly Putty, and my teeth kept chattering.
"Hello?" I yelled into the darkness. "Anybody there?"
My pounding heart all but drowned the echo. Sweat trickled down my forehead. I was scared out of my mind, but I wasn't about to retreat, so I said a hasty prayer and took the plunge.
Darkness enveloped me as I pivoted into the narrow corridor, my Magnum pointing the way. The only sounds came from the rain pounding the roof, and an occasional creaking floorboard. His living area couldn't have been more than twenty paces away, give or take a foot. Fifteen steps later, his huge sitting room greeted me. The air was less stifling and I could breathe again, the sensation much like shrugging off a coat.
I wheeled around 360 degrees, my arms extended with both hands gripping my weapon. From memory, I identified the dark shapes looming in the shadows. Sofa. Credenza. Armoire. Dresser. His empty bed. I was alone. Nothing stirred but the sheer curtains where an angry wet breeze howled through the window. No one could've gotten in because the third floor was too high up.
Except for the intermittent slashes of lightning, it was black as Hades outside. Even the backup generators that powered the floodlights were out. Dread gnawed at my stomach as I approached those creepy French doors. I plastered my back to the wall and cautiously jiggled the heavy brass knob, but it was locked.
"Dr. Frost?" My voice came out raspy, strained. I cleared my throat. "It's me, sir. Deni- -" Ooops. "Danielle Reed. Please say something- - -anything."
I inched closer and set my ear to the door. Half a minute of listening and praying netted me nothing but the distant rush of...water? Sounded like it was splashing into a sink from a spigot, but something more compelling snagged my attention.
The air came alive and a warm breeze stinking of dark emotions wafted from underneath the doors. It whispered around my body. I filled my nose and tried to separate the odors. Sulfur and ground black pepper signaled anger and desperation. The scent couldn't have been but an hour old.
Another psychic impression gripped me as a bone-crunching pain tore across my left wrist. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. It felt like someone had sliced my skin open with a knife and dug the tip deep into the marrow.
That was all the motivation I needed. I went for the doors like a crazy lady, kicking the heck out of them, but they were as fortified as the one to his bedroom. Screw caution. Without blinking, I took aim and fired. Glass and wood showered the floor. The doors whined open, hitting the wall with a soft thud.
This time I didn't hesitate to cross the threshold. Rain-dappled moonbeams poured through six huge skylights toward the back, drawing me into an intricate maze of steel shelves and endless rows of boxes.
I almost screamed bloody murder when I came face-to-face with that damned suit of armor. Clearing the makeshift labyrinth, I found myself in an open area crowded by worktables. Microscopes, beakers, medical equipment, specimen jars, and stuff I couldn't even identify lined every inch of space. A faucet spewed water into a utility sink. Two used syringes and a scalpel littered the steel counter next to it. Closer inspection revealed a silver hatchet lying beneath the spray from the spigot.
I shut the sink off. To my left an even higher tower of boxes masked another part of the room. I crept closer, noticing droplets on the floor. Something wet and dark glistened ominously under the moonlight.
With terror breathing down my neck and my Magnum leading the way, I followed the droplets, much like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumb trail, and nearly dropped my gun when I rounded the corner.
A horror of horrors greeted me. "Oh, no," I screamed as ice flooded my veins. "Oh, my God, no!"
The skull-and-crossbones premonition had been right.
Braeden Frost lay on the floor, his body as still as a fallen tree. The stench of cold, wet earth hung in the air.
It was the odor of death.
First-Person Death.
——-END CHAPTER 6——-
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