House of Dreams (22 page)

Read House of Dreams Online

Authors: Brenda Joyce

BOOK: House of Dreams
9.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Who are you talking to?” he asked.
Cass was now aware of the perspiration covering her body in a fine layer of moisture. She maneuvered past some chairs and tables, toward him. “Antonio, I have changed my mind.” She kept her voice low. She reached him on the threshold of the room and felt a vast relief. She had to restrain herself from pressing her body close to his.
“In regard to?” he asked.
“To your question—do you believe in ghosts.”
He stared at her. And he said, “I am certain the faulty lighting is due to a lack of maintenance and repair, not to her.”
Cass stared at his face, which was cast in shadow but illuminated by the candle he held. “Do you smell that floral scent?”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.”
Cass wet her lips. “It's her scent. It's her. Isabel.”
At least he did not laugh. He said, “I am calling an electrician tomorrow. The entire house is out. Gregory and Alfonso are searching for the fuse box.”
Cass grimaced. “Is there a basement?”
“Of sorts,” Antonio said.
She grew rigid. “In castles, the dungeons are below ground. I never thought about it, but—”
“This was a fortified manor. You are correct. Dungeons are below.”
“Just what we need,” Cass said. “By the way, the phones are also dead.”
He touched her elbow, still holding up the candle. “We'll eat by candlelight,” he said.
Cass didn't think she could summon up any appetite.
Summon.
Damn it all, the word was engraved on her mind now.
As they stepped into the corridor, Antonio said, “But maybe the time has come for me to be honest with you.” He paused.
Cass waited expectantly.
“I think I have felt her, too.”
 
 
Their shoulders brushed as they approached the dining room, which was now alight with candles. The effect wasn't soothing, because the shadows danced. And it certainly wasn't romantic. “What do you mean, you have felt her, too?” Cass whispered.
“I think a presence is very strong in that bedroom upstairs. I had hoped I was imagining it.” He may have blushed. It was hard to tell. “That room feels heavy. It's thick and dense. Unhappy even.” He shrugged.
Cass paused to stare at him. “This entire house is unhappy. But then, she must have been terribly unhappy when she came here.”
“Well, if she is haunting Casa de Suenos, it is probably with good
cause, but it also is fairly irrelevant,” Antonio said. “Undoubtedly her ghost has been here for four hundred and forty-five years.” He smiled briefly, his gaze searching hers.
They were standing just outside the dining room. Cass was aware of Tracey watching them as she sat alone at the table with the children. Both Eduardo and Alyssa were also intent. “I'm worried,” she finally said in a whisper so the children would not overhear. “Aunt Catherine's on her way here, and that means all the de Warennes and de la Barcas will be present, with the exception of your mother.”
“I do not get your meaning,” he said slowly.
Cass inhaled. “What if we're all supposed to be here for a reason? And what if that reason has something to do with the past? With her? Tragedy seems to result whenever the two families come together. We're certainly all together now.” Then, grimly, “I imagine that Isabel hates your family.”
“Isabel is dead.” Antonio was grave. “I have been thinking a lot about that extraordinary coincidence, actually, myself.”
Their gazes locked.
“Found it, but it won't do us much good,” Gregory said, striding to them, a flashlight in hand. “You need some upkeep on this place, Tonio. Fuses are blown left and right—I've never seen such a thing before.”
“We don't have any fuses anywhere?” Cass asked, alarmed.
“Alfonso has been looking,” Antonio said. “Why don't we sit down and try to eat something?” He touched Cass's shoulder, guiding her toward the dining room, when the flashlight in Gregory's hand went out.
Gregory cursed in Spanish, flicking the button repeatedly. Then he looked up at his brother. “I don't believe it. Do you have batteries for this?”
Antonio stared at the powerful flashlight, which had gone dead. “I don't know.”
Gregory groaned.
Cass glanced into the dining room at the worried faces of the two children. Then she did a double take, riveted by Tracey's expression. Something seemed so odd. Her face was so—relaxed. “It's all right, guys. Tomorrow we will have all the power back,” Cass said cheerfully. But she was thinking about her laptop, the lights, the flashlight, and that weird static on her screen. She was thinking about that face she had seen in the fire—even though she was now convinced that had
been her imagination. Still, there was a growing possibility that Isabel was haunting them.
No, there was a growing
likelihood.
But did it really matter?
After all, Isabel was a sad and tragic spirit. What could she really do?
Tracey suddenly stood up. “Yes, everything is all right.”
Cass went on alert. Her sister's manner
was
strange—almost too calm, too tranquil. Cass didn't like it. Not when she couldn't help recalling Tracey's odd behavior when she had found her in some kind of trance earlier that day. “Trace?”
Tracey smiled at her. “I'm not hungry. I'm tired, I'm going up to my room.”
Cass watched her walk casually past everyone, growing more disturbed by the second. Suddenly she didn't like her sister going upstairs by herself—not one bit. She rushed after her. “Can't you wait? In twenty minutes Alyssa and I will come up, too.”
Tracey gazed into her eyes, her own regard the picture of innocence. “What's wrong, Cassandra?” she asked. “Are you afraid of the dark?”
“A little,” Cass admitted. “Especially on a night like this.”
Tracey smiled. “I love the dark,” she said. “Good night.” She turned and glided into the great hall.
Cass watched her go. And it was only when Tracey had turned the corner that she realized that her sister never called her Cassandra, and that she had always been afraid of the dark.
 
 
Alyssa was gripping Cass's hand tightly as they all said good night to one another in the great hall. Cass's heart lurched unpleasantly as Antonio, with Eduardo in hand, Gregory beside him, went down their respective corridor on the other side of the house. She stared after them. The night felt oppressive. Worse, it felt menacing.
At least the wind had died down.
But now the silence felt unnatural. It was deathly.
“It's so quiet,” Alyssa whispered. “Aunt Cass, do we have to sleep up there?”
Cass quickly smiled down at her niece as they made their way by candlelight down the terribly dark, shadowy corridor. That hall alone was enough to give her goose bumps. Their footsteps sounded too loud on the wood floors. She wanted to glance over her shoulder repeatedly.
Tonight, she knew, she would never sleep a wink. And no matter how she chided herself, she just could not relax. “Where else should we sleep?”
“I don't know,” Alyssa said helplessly.
Upstairs was as quiet as below. Tracey's door was firmly closed. Cass's insides curdled as she walked past; she hated the idea of her sister sleeping alone. She debated checking in on her, but one look at Alyssa's pinched, white face made her change her mind. Her niece needed all of her attention now.
She had left their bedroom door wide open, and now they walked inside. And Cass froze.
The screen of her computer stared at her, glowing with light, a DOS prompt blinking.
Alyssa either understood or felt her tension, because her hand tightened in Cass's.
Cass stared, unable to move, barely able to think. She had closed the laptop. She had turned it off. And the rest of the power was off in the house, wasn't it?
She whirled and hit the light switch on the wall, but no lights came on.
Then it dawned on her that her laptop was running on its battery. But she had closed the lid. Hadn't she?
“What is it?” Alyssa cried nervously.
Cass began to sweat. She was not going to draw a very stupid conclusion. As Antonio had said, so what if Isabel was around? Undoubtedly she had haunted his house for 445 years. It was hardly a big deal; half of the castles and manors in England were supposedly haunted, as well.
 
Ghosts did not open laptops and turn them on. There was a reasonable explanation.
“I don't want to sleep here,” Alyssa announced with desperation in her tone. “I don't!”
Someone touched her from behind. Cass cried out, whirling.
It was only Alyssa. But the abrupt movement had made her candle go out.
“Now we have no light,” Alyssa cried, choking on tears.
“We can't sleep with a lit candle, sweetie.” Cass meant to be cheerful. But a droplet of sweat was trickling down one temple. Now she did not want to turn off her computer—it was the only light they had.
She looked slowly around their room, but could only see distorted
shapes and shadows. “I have a great idea. Let's take a blanket and some pillows and sleep downstairs … in the library.” She would feel better sleeping on the same side of the house as everyone else, she thought—and hoped. And if any room could be considered cozy, the library was it.
“Okay,” Alyssa agreed eagerly.
A moment later they were on their way.
 
 
“So how do you plan to do it?” Gregory asked Antonio as they left Eduardo tucked in Antonio's bed.
Antonio pushed open the door to another bedroom farther down the hall. “Whatever do you mean?” They were speaking quietly in Spanish, so as not to wake the sleeping child.
Gregory smiled at his brother, folding his arms over his chest and pausing in the doorway as Antonio set a lit candle down. “Your girlfriend is exquisite—but she's not your type. Not at all.”
“You are right.”
And Gregory smiled. It had been obvious to him from the moment he first walked into the house, and it had only become more obvious as the evening had worn on. “In fact, knowing you as well as I know myself,” he said, “I would say you are somewhat fond of Cassandra.” In spite of how he felt about returning to Casa de Suenos, the personal dynamics unfolding before his eyes were rather interesting.
Antonio eyed him. “Why do you take pleasure in my intimate affairs?” he finally asked—without rancor.
“Because I am seven and a half minutes younger than you.” Gregory grinned. “I live vicariously through you,” he joked. For he was the one with the endless stream of girlfriends and the weekends in the south of France, not his brother. Then, sobering, he clasped his shoulder. “Because it has been a long time since I saw a smile in your eyes,” he said.
The twins' gazes met and held, and for one brief moment they were both thinking about the same woman—Antonio's wife. Antonio quickly looked away.
“Get some sleep. You've had a long day.” Antonio turned, holding his own candle. Then he paused. “Oh, by the way. Cassandra and I are friends, and that is all.”
Gregory nodded, not missing the fact that his brother would still shut down should the subject of Margarita even begin to arise. But it
was nice to see him even remotely interested in the kind of woman he should be dating. “What a bind,” he said lightly. “Sisters. Hmmm.”
“Buenas noches,”
Antonio said firmly, practically shutting the door in his face.
Gregory laughed then, tossing his suit jacket on the bed, glad to see that Alfonso had brought his overnight bag up to the room. As he stripped off his tie, his good humor instantly vanished. Whatever had possessed him to return to his old home? He hadn't been back since the summer his father had died.
All the pleasure he had felt at seeing his brother and nephew again, and all of the relief he'd had at learning that they were fine, disappeared. He hated Casa de Suenos, the place of his father's death. Sometimes he thought he hated it even more than Antonio did.
Too well, as if it were days ago, not thirty-five years, he remembered being a small boy and hiding in his mother's armoire, hiding from … what? Or whom?
He closed his eyes. His shrink had told him children had huge imaginations, and that they all had imaginary playmates. Gregory had tried to explain to him, repeatedly, that this had not been a playmate—it had been a demon. A beautiful female demon who had appeared whenever he was least expecting it, causing him to run away and cower in his hiding place in abject fear.

Other books

South Row by Ghiselle St. James
I Made You My First by Threadgoode, Ciara
Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay by Reed Farrel Coleman
Horse Spy by Bonnie Bryant
Kat and Mouse by Lexxie Couper
The Scottish Companion by Karen Ranney
The Double Wager by Mary Balogh