Belmary House Book Two (23 page)

“You’ve done well. It will all be over soon,” he said. “Goodbye, Miss Saito.”

***

Dexter came back to the room empty-handed, not finding anything open in the wee hours after their arrival. Emma sat on the side of the bed, the same way he remembered her when he left a half hour ago. Her eyes were listless and sunken and showed evidence that she’d been crying. She’d slept the entire time on the plane, barely waking up enough to find a taxi, sitting mute the entire ride here.

He asked if she was all right, and she didn’t look up or make any indication she’d heard his voice. When he sat next to her, she jumped.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Sorry, no snacks,” he said, falsely cheery.

He’d been putting her strangeness down to stress and anxiety, but now they were so close to her getting home, he didn’t understand her listlessness. The last few days had been especially bad. Even the other researchers saw it and started to wonder amongst themselves what was wrong with her.

One of the college interns swore the house was cursed, that whoever stayed in it long enough went as mad as the former Earl who haunted it. Dex had given the idiot a strong setdown at the time, but now wondered if his story hadn’t accidentally landed on the truth.

He put his arm around her, and after a moment, she leaned against him. He couldn’t believe he’d have to let her go. If his parents hadn’t been impossible to reach on their camping trip, he might have told them everything and bid them farewell. He imagined just going with her without any explanation. If it worked, to him it would seem only a short time without seeing them, but they’d have to live for ten years wondering what had become of him. What if something happened to one of them in that time? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. And how could he find a place for himself there? He didn’t want to rely on Emma like a charity case to get him a new job, yet how could he explain the ten year gap on his cv?

“I’m tired,” she mumbled.

“Let’s sleep a bit, then,” he said, pulling down the covers as best he could while she continued to sit there.

He smiled, patting the pillow, and she lolled over woodenly. He swung her legs onto the bed and tucked the covers up to her chin before crawling in next to her. Within minutes she was asleep, and he stroked the hair off her cheek. He set his alarm for the time they were supposed to wake up to meet Tilly, still irritated at her for insisting they go all the way up to the castle, when Emma so sorely wanted and needed to get home.

“You can’t rush the portal, Dex,” she’d said. “Can you please stop worrying and just do what I say?”

He lay awake thinking about that bit of the conversation. Emma had planted the seed of suspicion in his mind after the first phone call, and it did seem like there were odd pauses and scufflings during this call as well. What really upset him was the fact that they called her at two in the morning, clearly waking her from sleep, and yet he heard Lord Ashford nearby in the background.

The only reason he could think for that happening was that they were sharing a bed. Emma noticed it as well, so it wasn’t his outraged cousinly instincts taking over and making him hear things. She’d wondered if Lord Ashford hadn’t brainwashed Tilly somehow. At the moment it had seemed absurd. He hadn’t trusted the man from the beginning, but she had always stood up for him, and he wanted to know why she’d had such an about face all of a sudden. She’d grown silent and shook her head, dozing off in the taxi, and he’d put it out of his mind.

But now it all came rushing back at him. Who was this Lord Ashford who’d been with Tilly all this time? He pulled Emma close to him, not wanting to have his last moments with her be plagued with doubt, but he couldn’t send her off with someone he didn’t trust, either.

The alarm went off without him ever having fallen asleep, and he wearily kissed her forehead before going downstairs to find them some breakfast. He thought she’d be eagerly bustling around when he returned, only a short time from getting home at last, but she sat on the edge of the bed as if she had never slept, gazing empty-eyed at the floor.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing she wasn’t.

“Is it time?” She looked up at him, quickly losing interest before he could answer. Alarmed at her pallor, he rushed to her side.

“What is it?” he asked. “What can I do? Are you nervous about how to explain your absence when you get back?”

“That won’t be a problem,” she said, finally dragging herself off the bed. “I don’t know why I have to go,” she said, sounding bitter.

“Home?” he asked, hating the hopefulness in his voice. How could he want her to give up her child? That wouldn’t be the Emma he loved.

“No, to the castle.” She snapped a clean shirt out of her bag, the action seeming to drain her, and she stood clutching the dresser for balance.

“Emma, are you all right?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t. He wanted to shake her out of the haze she was under, but saw a tear trickle down her cheek.

“I don’t know,” she answered, putting her face in her hands.

He gently pulled them away, frightened at her behavior. He knew she hadn’t been herself lately, but he’d only seen her break down once during the entire ordeal, and she’d quickly regained control.

“It’s going to be over soon,” he said, feeling useless as he patted her hands.

“Is it?” she asked. “I don’t know. I think it might be too late for me.” She sank to the bed again and wiped her face with the forgotten shirt. “It hurts so much, Dex.”

The tears continued to slide down her face as she silently cried, as if she was too tired to make a sound.

“What does, Emma?” He was utterly confused. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sick,” she said, holding the sides of her head. “Everything hurts, all the time. And there’s this sound that won’t go away. It’s supposed to go away when I get back, but he doesn’t know all of it. I think I ruined things for myself.”

“Who doesn’t know what? You didn’t ruin anything. We’re almost there.”

She shook her head, groaning as if that made it worse. “I wasn’t supposed to go, but I did.” She grabbed his hand and looked at him fearfully. “If I tell you, you won’t like me anymore.”

“There’s nothing that could make me stop liking you. Listen,” he said, tipping her downturned chin so she had to look at him. “I love you. I do. I was pretending I didn’t so it wouldn’t hurt so much when you left. But I love you.”

“I know,” she said. “You’re not very good at pretending.”

He laughed, thinking the worst was past, but she only cried harder. He tried to hug her, but she wrested herself away, eyes bleak.

“I wanted to kill myself,” she said. “I still think about it.”

“Everybody thinks that way sometimes,” he said, alarmed all the same. He knew all too well to take someone seriously when they said such a thing. “When you’re home, you’ll be so happy—”

“No, Dexter,” she said forcefully, slumping immediately after exerting so much effort.

He wanted to help her, comfort her, make everything all right the way a man was supposed to, but could only sit there, waiting for her to say what she thought she needed to say.

“I told you I went to see my old self, I mean, my young self?”

“Yes, I remember. You said it made you feel ill and you never went back.”

Her hair hit his arm as her head swung back and forth. “Lies. I went every night. No matter how much it hurt, I couldn’t stay away. I thought about killing
her
.” She held up her fingers, an inch apart. “I was this close.”

“But you didn’t,” he said. His stomach turned over, feeling her sadness and regret as if it was his own.

“I think I’m broken,” she said. “It got so bad I stopped going, but I think it’s too late for me. Ashford warned me not to go near her. At least that much of what he said was true. The me that’s going back isn’t the me that left. I don’t think I should be around Dahlia.” Her face crumbled and she sobbed. “I miss her, though.”

He reached up and groped around for the tissue box on the dresser, pulling out a handful and dabbing at her face.

“Emma, stop. I know you’re in a lot of pain. I think that’s where this talk is coming from. Of course you miss Dahlia, and of course you should be around her. Whatever you thought about doing, you were under duress. Even then, you made the right decision, don’t you see? I promise this is going to be behind you soon.”

He held his breath, praying. How could he make such a promise, when he knew no such thing? She was distraught, and nothing he could do would make her see reason. Out of ideas, he shook her shoulders.

“Emma. Get up and get ready. Your daughter needs you.”

She gasped and looked at him as if he’d betrayed her somehow, but her tears stopped. She took the soggy tissues from him and blew her nose, wincing in pain. Shakily, she rose to her feet, and he kept his hand under her elbow until he was sure she could stand.

She stood looking confused and started to tell him something, quickly shutting her mouth against it.

“I guess we need to go soon.” She blinked and looked down at the same clothes she’d worn on the plane, and had slept in.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t waste your energy. It doesn’t matter.”

She smiled tremulously and his hope soared. She wasn’t broken like she feared, it was just her pain talking. He hated that she had to suffer any longer, and the relief he felt that she’d be safely home soon was instantly battered by the storm of already missing her. He kept those feelings carefully hidden, not wanting to add to her burden.

“Let’s go,” he said, looking at the time. “We won’t be too early, and if they’re so damn concerned with us going up there, they shouldn’t care if we are.”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll just wash up really quickly. This Piper person might end up being a donor to the museum if nothing else.”

He frowned, but she made her way toward the bathroom, and emerged ten minutes later in clean clothes, with a freshly scrubbed, dewy face. Now that he knew the amount of pain she was in, he could see the lines of fatigue around her eyes, and recognized the drawn, empty look for what it was. He felt like a fool for not realizing something was wrong earlier, letting himself be put off so easily by her false assurances.

When she stopped dead and looked around as if she didn’t know where she was, his heart sank, fearing she was right, and it was too late for her. Damn Ashford and his damn cursed portals. He was going to have some harsh words for the man when he finally met him.

“Maybe Piper can help you,” he said. “If she’s so powerful.”

“No more magic,” she said, seeming sure of something for once. “I can’t have anymore magic.”

She seemed so positive of that, when she acted befuddled about everything else, that Dex wondered if she’d read that somewhere and forgot about it until now, or if someone had told her. But who?

“How do you know that?” he asked.

She paused and looked blankly at her phone, which lay in the middle of the bed.

“Where’d you learn that, Emma?” He had a strong feeling she was leaving something out, something important.

“It was—”

She looked at him as if she’d realized something, as if she was sorry for something, but then her eyes went vacant again. Grabbing the sides of her head, she cried out and collapsed to the floor in an awkward heap.

“Emma,” he shouted, rushing to her.

Her skin was cold and clammy and she lay as if frozen. He called her name over and over, shaking her, slapping her lightly, then harder, but getting no response. Mashing his ear to her chest, he made out a faint heartbeat, but nothing would rouse her.

It couldn’t end like this, not when they were so close. He crawled to the room phone and fumbled to reach the front desk. Dial zero? Dial nine? All he got was an aggravating beep. It would be quicker to step outside the room and scream. Grabbing his cellphone with a frustrated growl, he stabbed out the emergency number, feeling like time had slowed down as he waited for an answer.

Why were they in this backward village? If they were in London she would be on her way to hospital by now. He didn’t want to think of how far the nearest hospital might be around here. Every second of helplessly looking at her still, pale face drove him deeper into panic.

Not wanting to leave her, but still unable to wake her, he begged her to hang on, and ran for help.

Ashford watched Liam pace the length of the room like a caged animal. Piper flitted about touching things and muttering to herself, every now and then looking up as if she’d thought of something important. He had to admit to himself he didn’t have much faith in them.

Liam was too controlled by his emotions, and whatever supposed powers the wee woman had, she certainly wasn’t practiced in them. She clapped her hands together and ran out of the room, returning several minutes later with a triumphant look on her face.

“I set up a perimeter,” she said, looking half proud and half embarrassed. “If it works, I’ll know the minute one of them walks onto the property.”

If it worked, that was the rub. She shrugged and got back to her mysterious busy work, quietly going over things with Liam. After the third or fourth time he brushed off their attempted explanations of what they were doing, they took to ignoring him, which suited him fine.