Moonshadows (19 page)

“Stephen?”

“I can’t believe you came,” he said and laughed. “Even after you broke into my apartment and found what you were looking for, you still came.”

Janet strained her eyes in the direction of the voice.
Oh Lord
, she thought.
I’ve let him lure me up here when in my heart I knew better
. Soundlessly she edged her way across the floor and toward the front door. She had taken no more than a couple of steps when a hand grazed her shoulder. She spun toward the touch and opened her mouth to scream.

“Janet.”

Yet another voice, soft and comforting. The voice of a friend.

“Sebastian?” Janet’s mind raced to sort out and piece together again names and faces. “What are you doing here? Did you find my note?”

“I can’t believe you actually came up here alone,” he said. “What a dumb thing to do.”

Janet gave a short laugh. “I know that now.”

Sebastian breathed close to her ear. “I thought I heard Stephen’s voice.”

“You did, Sebastian. He’s somewhere in the house. We have to get out of here.”

“Why? Do you think he would hurt you?”

Janet clutched Sebastian’s arm.

“He’s not Stephen. He’s Etienne—Cousin Etienne. And Miss Austin’s not Amanda, she’s—she’s Isabella.” Her hands fluttered toward the stairs. “Etienne’s mother. Oh God, none of this makes any sense. We’ve got to get out of here. Stephen’s trying to kill me.”

Sebastian wrapped a protective arm around Janet’s shoulders.

“You can explain it all to me later,” he said, urging her in the direction of the rear of the house. “Let’s go this way, he may be waiting near the front door.”

Grateful that she was no longer alone, Janet allowed herself to be propelled through the darkened house and out the back door. Like tatted lace, a heavy mist shrouded the courtyard and traced ghostly patterns of moonshadows from a sliver of platinum moon creeping slowly from behind a layer of clouds. Janet thought again of the blue moon and its omen. But how could she be in danger now when she had Sebastian to protect her? She breathed the thick milky air and felt lightheaded and unstable.

“We’ll have to hide until he gets tired of looking for you and leaves.” Sebastian’s voice guided her. “The tower. That’s where we’ll go.”

A warning streaked across Janet’s brain. She shook it away and held fast to the hand of her friend—the only friend, she feared, she would find this night.

S
ebastian tugged at Janet and dragged her beneath the overhanging vines of the grape arbor. The grip of his hand cut into her fingers. Buried, too far back in her mind to sort out the confusion, was a primal sense of immediate danger. It nudged and nipped around the edges of her ability to reason.
Something is wrong
, a small voice inside her head warned, but she clung to Sebastian’s hand like a drowning child.

They reached the door of the tower. Sebastian yanked it open and pulled Janet inside.

“We’ll be safe here,” he promised.

Exhausted, Janet dropped to the earthen floor and buried her head in her hands. The warning bell in her mind continued to clang. Louder. Louder.

“When you were upstairs in the bedroom, Janet, what happened with Amanda—Isabella?”

“I locked her in my grandmother’s bedroom.”

Janet dropped her hands to her lap and strained her eyes upward. Through the windows located high on the tower walls, pewter-streaked shadows streamed down the center of the structure. Janet shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

“All these years I’ve worked with her, I knew she didn’t like me but I could never understand why. My aunt,” she said with amazement. “Imagine that. She was my aunt and never gave a sign.”

“Listen!” Sebastian snapped. “Hear that? Someone’s coming.” He urged Janet to her feet. “Let’s get up the stairs. We’ll be safe there.”

Janet pulled back. “It’s dangerous.”

“It’s more dangerous down here. At least up there we have the advantage. We can track his movements.”

Janet, still numb from all that had happened, followed along to the foot of the stairs.

“Come on,” Sebastian encouraged. “We’ll be careful.”

Slowly the two climbed the creaking stairs. As they rose higher and higher, the lingering fog fingered though the upper reaches of the tower. Janet could feel the aged wood give beneath her feet and tried to step lightly.

“Oh Sebastian,” she whispered, “it was awful. I don’t know who anybody is anymore.”

“Things will look different in the daylight,” he consoled. “Even if you’re not a Lancaster, who gives a hoot. By tomorrow all this will seem far away.”

Clang. Clang. The alarm inside Janet’s head caused her to stumble. At the moment she was safe from Stephen. Why then did she still feel so threatened?

“Here now,” Sebastian said as they reached the platform at the top. “Don’t you feel better already?”

Janet felt in more danger than ever. The events of the last hour had left her muddle-headed. She steadied herself against the stair railing. It yielded beneath her touch. The timbers were old and decayed and would crumble easily. She inched away from the top of the stairs and pushed her back against the stone wall. Sebastian reached for her hand to pull her toward the center.

“Janet-Janet-Janet.” His voice had a singsong quality. “Don’t be such a silly girl.” He gave a chuckle. “We’re perfectly safe here.”

He sat down and dangled his legs over the edge, reminding her of a willful child.

Like a kaleidoscope that had been spinning out of control, the irregular pieces started clicking into place and forming a pattern, making some sense of the confusion that had been gouging her brain.

“Sebastian,” she said, pressing into the stone wall behind her. How did you know that I wasn’t a Lancaster?” She kept her voice soft and even?”

“Why you told me, Janet. You told me when we first met that you’d been adopted.” Sebastian sounded patronizing. “Don’t you remember?”

“I couldn’t have,” she said. “Because I didn’t know myself until tonight. I ask you again Sebastian, how did you know?”

In the mist, Janet could see him shake his head.

“Well it’s not important,” he insisted. He stretched out his hand. “Here, come sit beside me. We’re going to have to wait Stephen out and it may take a while before he gives up and goes away. I’ve always had the opinion he’s rather stubborn.”

“What makes you think that? Did you ever meet him?”

Sebastian shrugged his slight shoulders.

“You know how you get a feeling about a person.” He pointed at her. “Take you, for example. Now I never thought you were stubborn, just maybe a little on the simple side.” He laughed. “Not in a bad way, mind you. On you, I think it’s kind of endearing—as long as you don’t carry it too far. But then we can’t all be Einsteins, now can we?” He motioned again. “Come on over and sit beside me and tell me about yourself.”

With a sense of danger surrounding her, Janet assumed a casual attitude. She placed her hands on her hips and flexed her back.

“I’ll stand.”

With a motion of indifference, she pulled one leg up and braced her foot against the wall.

“Have you ever been here to
Heather Down
before tonight, Sebastian?”

He gave a hearty laugh. “I hardly think so. This is
your
birthright, remember?”

“But you were able to find your way through the house, even in the dark, and back here to the tower without any help from me. How could you do that if you’d never been here before?”

Sebastian slowly got to his feet and sidled in Janet’s direction.

“Just instinct I guess,” he said and reached out, touching her arm.

“It had to be more than that.” Janet jerked away and pressed tighter into the wall. “You’ve been here before.”

“Janet, calm yourself,” he said, moving casually to stand beside her. “You’re getting upset over nothing.”

“Who are you, Sebastian? Where did you come from?”

“From New York, you know that. Now quit being a silly girl and come away from that wall.”

She could feel the prickle of his breath against her skin.

“Don’t touch me.” Janet’s arm flew out and pushed him away. “I’m going home. I’m going back down those stairs, get in my car, and drive away.”

“What about Stephen? He’s still down there.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Janet said, easing toward the stairway.

Sebastian grabbed for her arm, catching a piece of her coat. “No!” He shook his head and the copper locks glistened in the heavy mist. “I won’t let you leave.”

Janet whirled around, breaking his hold. “You won’t
let
me? You don’t have a vote on the decision.” Her voice was firm. “Besides, I’m not so sure you and Stephen—or Etienne, or whatever the hell his name is—aren’t in this little game together. Did he recruit you, Sebastian? What did he promise you to help get rid of me?”

Sebastian laughed.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Janet said. “I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”

As she turned to walk away, Sebastian’s hands closed in around her throat and jerked her backward toward the center of the platform.

“You’re leaving, all right,” he hissed against her ear. “But not by the stairs.”

The pressure increased against her windpipe and the room starting spinning as Janet felt her brain begin to shut down. She clawed at the hands crushing the bones in her throat. Explosions flashed behind her eyeballs, Roman candles with brilliant red and green shooting stars.

She loosened her grip on the amazingly strong hands at her neck and yanked the tote from her shoulder. Clutching the heavy braided strap with both hands, she aimed in her mind’s eye as best she could and swung upward with all the strength her adrenalin-filled body had. The wind whooshed over her head as the purse arced through the air seeking the target behind her. She heard a soft thud and her throat was suddenly unbound. Janet snatched herself away and whirled on her attacker. Drinking in large dollops of air, she planted her feet squarely on the sagging planks and aimed the purse again. Sebastian, still reeling from the first blow, caught the full impact of the swing and stumbled sideways.

Remembrances of riddles and roses and little crushed figurines streaked across her mind, and Janet believed herself to be teetering on the brink of delirium. She made a dash toward the stumbling figure before her and swung the purse one more time. Her blow glanced off Sebastian’s shoulder and caused her footing to become unstable. In an effort to check her balance, Janet reached forward and secured a grip on Sebastian’s hair. Stunned, he took a step backward, leaving Janet holding a massive handful of copper-colored curls. A wig! He had been wearing a wig. He looked comical as he stood there, his onion-sized head covered by sparse tufts of hair:
little balls of lint
. And her mind called up another picture: the photograph of Morgan. The least likable, in her opinion, of all the Lancasters.

Sebastian covered his face with his hands, cracked open the edges like double-doors and gave a wide grin.

“Ollie, ollie, oxen free.”

“All this time you’ve been the mysterious caller.”

Like a court jester, Sebastian danced a little jig.

“Riddle me earth. Riddle me sky. Now’s the time for you to die.”

“Etienne? You’re Etienne. Not Stephen.”

“Etienne.” He shrugged. “Sebastian.” An impish grin passed over the contorted face. “Does it matter if we’re both the same?”

“But who’s Sebastian Massila?”

“A character I played many times on the stage,” he said. “A person thought to be dead.” He smiled. “But he wasn’t. Even when he reappeared after he was presumed to have drowned, his identity remained unknown. You don’t know your Shakespeare, do you? Even after I gave you the famous quote about attaining greatness. Have you never read
Twelfth Night
? I left clues all over the place. Don’t you think it fitting that I chose one of Shakespeare’s comedies?” He smirked. “Mama was right, you are a stupid girl.”

“I may not be up on my Shakespeare but I’m not stupid,” Janet said. “Nobody knows everything, Etienne. Not even you.”

“No?”

“Don’t be such a stuck-up,” she said. “It doesn’t become you.”

Sebastian threw his little head back and laughed.

“Become me? Why you little twit. I could best you at anything you care to name.”

“Oh? Do you know how to paint, Sebastian? How to blend an autumn sky? How to balance lines that give a tilt to a young girl’s head so she’s listening to something only she can hear? Do you know how to create songbirds at twilight?” Janet jabbed a foot forward. “Well, do you?”

“Believe me, I’ve seen your work and it’s nothing to get excited about.” He waved her away with a flick of his hand. “But Shakespeare, my dear, there was genius. Leaving all that aside, I still say you should have figured it out. Especially after you found the picture.”

“The picture?” Janet’s mind was still jumbled.

“We knew you had the album that contained the torn photograph. Having you find the second half was just a matter of moving you around and have you hit your mark.” He grinned. “You were the player and therefore predictable. I, on the other hand, was the director and had all the power.” He snapped his fingers. “You saw what I wanted you to see.”

Janet shook her head. “You staged the whole thing—even the cashbox.”

He gave a satisfied laugh. “I nearly froze my butt off waiting for you and Chelsea to leave Prescott’s apartment so I could put everything back like I found it.” He snorted. “Your writer friend’s a slob.”

Janet stared at the menacing figure in front of her and marveled at the way she had allowed herself to be manipulated.

“And the incident on Laurel Mountain,” she said. “That was my father’s old car from the carriage house. But you failed to put the tarp back. You must have been in a big hurry.” She smiled. “See, even you can make mistakes.”

“I knew the keys were in the ignition.” He wagged a finger at her. “I know all the secrets of
Heather Down
. I’m a very clever fellow.”

“But I heard Stephen’s voice on the phone, and again tonight in the house.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m flattered. I always did have a flair for voices.”

“And it was
you
all the time—not Stephen.”

He made a generous bow. “Like I said: clever.”

“And you bugged my house and left the rose. But you couldn’t have been the one who smashed my crystal collection. You were at the movies with me.”

He sneered. “That was Mama’s touch, and I must say, rarely has she enjoyed anything more. She helped—whenever the situation called for it—to make the phone calls. We really had you going, didn’t we?”

Clearly he was enjoying himself and totally absorbed with his accomplishments.

“Mama wasn’t sure we could pull the whole thing off. She didn’t know just how good an actor I am. After Hilda was dispensed with, the rest—as we say in the business—was a walk-on.”

“Dispensed with?”

“Eliminated. She was supposed to have fallen from the upper stacks, but you messed that up.” He grinned. “You do have a knack for getting in the way.”

“So I wasn’t the intended victim with the car? It was Hilda, and all the time I thought she took a hit meant for me.”