Trust Your Heart - A Story of the St. John Family

Here is the prologue from my novella, Trust Your Heart.  This one is a historical romance.  Later on this year, I will be posting some exciting news about this novella as well as my Regency novel, Touch the Sky.

Enjoy!

Prologue

Christmas Eve – St. Louis – 1859

“May I have this dance, Miss St. John?”  The young Army officer bowed from the waist, his blue eyes sparkling, his uniform immaculate, and his smile wide.  The sound of his deep baritone echoed pleasantly in her torso and made her breath catch.

Amelia noticed him earlier when he entered the ballroom.  Tall and well muscled, he was hard to miss.  Her brother-in-law introduced them.  She watched Lt. Joshua Hawthorne as he moved through the crowd for more introductions.  She could not take her gaze off him.

“Of course you may,” said Ellen, nudging her sister toward him.

Amelia shot a glance at her older sibling, before flashing her best smile at the lieutenant.  “I would be happy to dance with you, Lt. Hawthorne.”

In the glow of candlelight, he led her onto the dance floor.  Though his hands were properly gloved, she could feel the heat at her waist where he held her.  Focused on the sensation of his hand she stumbled briefly when he took the first step.  Amelia recovered quickly and they joined the other couples swaying around the floor to the lovely waltz. 

As they whirled in the steps of the graceful dance, other people existed only in the background. 

The music, the sparkling crystal chandeliers, the gentle murmur of the guests, the passing colors, and the scents of evergreens added to the pleasurable experience.  Yet Amelia saw only the handsome face above her. 

When their first dance ended, he stayed by her side.  “I did not expect to find such pleasant company in St. Louis,” he said as he strolled with her to the refreshment table.  “Would you care for some wine?”

“Yes, thank you.”  She allowed him to lead her. “Where are you from?” she asked.

He handed her a cup of the cinnamon dusted mulled wine.  “I am originally from New York.  This is my first trip to St. Louis.”

“I hope it won’t be your last trip to St. Louis,” she said.

“So do I.”  He leaned down to her.  “Will you be going to the Mayor’s New Year’s Eve Ball?”

“I’m afraid not.  The day after tomorrow I leave to return to New Orleans.”

The orchestra struck up a lively number.

Joshua offered his arm to Amelia.  They moved to the floor once again and danced a schottische.  After that, they danced another waltz, a polka, and a reel.

Between dances they drank more wine and chatted with each other.  Amelia wondered if some of the matrons would consider her behavior inappropriate dancing with only one man.  She did not care if they did.  The strong attraction she felt for the handsome lieutenant could not be ignored.

He held her hand. “May I compliment you on the lovely ring you wear?  I have never seen another quite like it.”

She held out her hand to better see the ruby ring.  Set in gold, glittering diamonds surrounded the large oval cut center stone. 

“The ring is an heirloom from my late grandmother.  When I wear it, I am reminded of her.”  She smiled up at him.  “I must confess I wear it everyday.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the picture window.  They faced the street, alone in the overcrowded room, looking out the window at the falling snow.  “Must you go back to New Orleans so soon?” he asked, softly.

“I’m afraid so.  I have to return to Madame Dumond’s Seminary for Young Ladies for my final term.  My parents wanted me to complete my education.”

“Aren’t you worried about the state of politics, all this talk of war? It might be dangerous for you to be in the South.”

She smiled up at him.  “I’ll leave the subject of war to you men.  We ladies have no business worrying about such matters.”

“If things were different, I would take the time to court you properly.”  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.  The touch of his lips gentle and warm on her skin beneath the lace mitts she wore, he lingered over the task. “May I have an address at which to send you letters?”

Amelia sighed at the sensation of his lips on her skin.  How fortunate I wore the lace mitts instead of my gloves.  She looked at their reflection in the window glass.  He was tall and dark, dashing in his uniform.  They looked good together, an attractive couple. I wonder if this is what love feels like?  Belatedly she realized he had asked a question. “Yes, I would like to correspond with you.” She did not recognize her own voice.

Joshua held her gaze and turned her hand over to kiss her palm. 

Her knees buckled at the sensation.  Sighing, she could look nowhere but at him.  I’ve never felt anything like this.  It must be love.

“Promise me,” he whispered, “to answer the letters I will send you.  I don’t want to lose touch with you.”

“Of course I shall answer your letters.”  Her voice breathless, she could barely talk.  “We won’t lose touch.  Why would we?  I will complete the term in June and then I’ll be back in St. Louis.  After all, it is just a steamboat journey from New Orleans to St. Louis.”

The guests began to leave.  Amelia saw her sister bidding her guests farewell at the front door beyond the ballroom.

Joshua noted the activity.  “I suppose I must be a courteous guest and depart. I had a wonderful time this evening.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, so did I.”  Please don’t leave just yet. Amelia hurried to the escritoire in the hallway, for paper, a pen, and ink.  She hastily wrote her New Orleans address.

Joshua got his greatcoat and hat from the housemaid. 

I’ve got to say something else so he won’t leave yet.  “Merry Christmas,” she said, as she handed him her address.

“Merry Christmas to you, Miss St. John.”  He put on the greatcoat with a flourish as he smiled down to her.

He’s so handsome, the very picture of perfection, so strong and confident. I could stare at him forever.

His expression became serious.  “Promise me you will be very careful in the coming months.”

Amelia tossed her head as she had seen her best friend, Jo Beth Wilcox do. “I shall be perfectly fine.  After all, what could happen to someone like me?”

Good Reads Recommendations

This is the first of regular posts to recommend books to people who love to read.  I am surrounded by talented authors and want to make you aware of their work.

These books are all for sale at various websites, i.e. Amazon, Barnes & Noble.  Carly's Rule, Hawk's Mountain & the others in the series, Dixie Cowboy, and Falling for Zoe, are also available after their release date at Bell Bridge books website.

Whatever It Takes is also available at e-Wings Press (the publisher's website)

Note a "sweet" romance is one where the characters close the bedroom door on the reader - so no explicit sex.

My current recommendations are:

From Vickie King - her first novel, Carly's Rule - it's a sweet contemporary romance story about an old love rekindled, that breaks down the heroine's fear of commitment.

From popular and prolific author Sharon Sala - I recommend three books currently available.

Don't Cry for Me - a contemporary love story about a wounded female veteran who discovers love when she's back stateside.  This one is also a mystery with danger all around.

Windwalker - a paranormal love story about a native American heroine and her native American hero.  This one is suspenseful - a most entertaining read.

And finally, my personal favorite from Ms. Sala - The Boarding House.  This is not a romance in any sense.  Instead it is the story of a young woman who endures incredible abuse and beats it as she triumphs in the end.

From multi-published Elizabeth Sinclair - currently out now is the fourth installment in her popular Hawk's Mountain series - Winter Magic. This one is another sweet romance, lovely but with conflicts.  Also available are the three other books in the series - Hawk's Mountain, Summer Rose, & Forever Fall.

Coming later this year will be the re-release of two of Ms. Sinclair's most popular novels, For Your Love, & Gabriel's Angel.  I'll keep you posted on the release date for each of these.

From talented Tmonique Stephens, the first two of her powerful, paranormal, and sexy Egyptian god series are out currently - Eternity & Everlasting.  These stories are hot with bedroom doors resolutely open! 

Look for her third foree into this fascinating and spicy world -Evermore - to come out later this year, possibly in July. I'll keep you posted on the due date.

From Skye Taylor, out currently is Whatever It Takes - a good novel about intrigue during a presidential election.  This one twists and turns and will surprise you.

Ms. Taylor's next novel - Falling for Zoe is due out in March.  This will be the first novel in the Camerons of Tides Way series.  Hint, I read a rough draft of this one and it sings, it is so good!

Dolores Wilson's recent novel, Dixie Cowboy, is a vivid romance about the heroine and hero finding love during a time of adversity for both.  A wonderful writer, Ms. Wilson has given us a story to remember.

Ms. Wilson is also known for her brand of humor.  She wrote a series about a woman named Bertie, who drives a wrecker for her father's business.  I read the first one Big Hair and Flying Cows a few years ago and laughed so hard the tears came.  The big news is all three of the books starring Bertie will be released later this year as a set.  I'll keep you posted on the release date.  If you like stories that will make you guffaw out loud with colorful characters and situations, these are for you!

If you love to read, I hope you'll check out the books from these wonderful authors.

Take care.

White Sands

Here is a short story I wrote that takes place in New Mexico.  I don't know about you, but I love that state.  Enjoy.


                                                                 State Highway 70

 White Sands National Monument

July

 

Rafe Fernandez of the New Mexico State Police walked carefully around the corpse.  Like the others before her, this woman was laid out on her back.  Her head was to the north, her feet to the south.  Her arms pointed directly east and west.  The autopsy would find the cause of death to be strangulation by the red ribbon tied tightly around her neck.  A kachina rested face up on her breastbone – an Apache Crown Dancer.

Like the others, she was young, appearing to be in her 20s, red-haired, and pretty.  Rafe sighed.  This killer followed the same pattern with each murder.

“Lieutenant, are you through with the crime scene?”  Eddie Wilson with the FDMI waited beside the body.

“Yeah, go ahead,” said Rafe.  “It doesn’t look like there’s anything different with this one.”

“How many is it now?”

“She’s number eleven.”  He shook his head.  “There is never any forensic evidence, no fibers or foreign DNA on the body.”  He looked around the area.  “And they’ve all been laid out the same way in a busy area.  Any tracks he left are either covered by the shifting sand or all mixed in with those of the tourists.”

“I wonder what this guy has against red heads?”  Eddie carefully set out a body bag.

“I’ll ask him when I find him.”  Rafe walked back to his car.  He would have a long report to compile.  After eleven months of these murders, he knew the drill.

August

The sunset turned the road to fire reflected off the gypsum sand as she drove west, headed back to Las Cruces in the gathering twilight.  Sarah pulled down her visor and squinted to see the highway ahead.  “What the hell is that?” Something loomed in front of her speeding car.  She slowed the car, only to slam on the brakes when she realized a huge shape blocked her path. 

‘Omigod, I’m going to hit him!”  The car stopped three feet from the figure.  Sarah put her hand to her chest and breathed deeply to slow her heartbeat from stampede mode.

            The man, if that’s what it was, did not move.  Sarah watched him.  “What is he doing out here, dressed like that?”  She looked around and could see no other vehicles.  The figure before her stood in the regalia of an Apache Crown Dancer, complete with a black hood which obliterated his face.  This close, he wasn’t above average height.  The white-painted headdress he wore added a couple of feet to his stature.

“What do you think you’re doing, scaring me like that?  I ought to…”  Sarah shut her mouth with a pop.  The figure moved inexorably to her driver’s side window.  She put the window up all the way and locked the door, frightened by his intense deliberate movement.  He stalked her like a wild predator.  She glanced quickly at her surroundings.  It grew darker, with no one else in sight in the desolate country.

He stood beside her door and brandished a tire iron in an arc toward her window. 

Sarah did not hesitate.  She pushed the accelerator to the floor and took off with tires that squealed in protest at their treatment.  In the rear view mirror, she could see the man spin and regain his footing.  He focused his attention on her as she sped away to safety. 

She didn’t slow down until she reached Las Cruces.  Back in civilization, she walked gratefully into the well-lit hotel.  Sarah nodded to the young woman behind the front desk and hurried to her room.  Once inside, she locked the door, turned the deadbolt, and flipped the safety bar for good measure.

She tossed her notebook and purse on the bed.  The man hadn’t followed her that she could see.  But some instinct told her he would not give up.  She knew the next time she would not escape him.  Safely in her room, her skin twitched with anxiety, as if hungry desert ants crawled all over her body.  She crept to the window and peered out from behind the curtains.  The parking lot appeared harmless, normal.  There was no one out there, no sign of an Apache Crown Dancer.

Sarah remained in her room all night, did not call for room service.  Better to be safe, even if her stomach angrily growled.  She wedged a chair under the doorknob.  The blaring television kept her company during her fitful sleep.

In the morning, the sunlight helped her regain her natural confidence.  “I was worn out last night.  That’s why I overreacted.”  The man’s car probably broke down. 

He wanted a ride back to town, that’s all.  There was so little traffic on that road at that time of day.  No wonder he was insistent.  “Poor guy, I hope he found a ride.”

Part of her treacherous mind reminded her that there were no other vehicles in sight along the route.  Stranded motorists would not wield a tire iron. 

“Shut up and forget it!”  Sarah admonished her image in the mirror.  She dressed quickly, anxious to get out, eat a good breakfast, finish her interviews in town today, and leave Las Cruces in the dust behind her.

Sarah glanced around the room to make sure she had everything she needed for the interviews.  Satisfied, she opened the door.  Something rested on the patterned carpet in front of her door.  It was a carved figure about a foot tall.

Sarah trembled as she picked it up.  It was a kachina doll, an Apache Crown Dancer.  The black hooded head mocked her with its soulless slits for eyes.  She gulped down her scream.  “He found me!” 

Her quaking knees gave way and she sank to the floor.  She could not withhold her screams any longer.  Once started, she could not stop.

* * *

“Miss Quinlan?  I’m Lieutenant Rafael Fernandez of the New Mexico State Police.”  He showed her his badge, his dark eyes looked concerned.  “Do you feel up to telling me about what happened?”

She nodded and sipped the bottled water the hotel manager had given her.  “I don’t know where to start.”  She looked up at him.  “I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”

He pulled up a chair and sat facing her.  “Why don’t you tell me about it?” 

He did not interrupt her until she finished.

“You only saw the man on Highway 70, is that right?’

“Yes.  I was alone on the road, no other cars.  It was a couple of miles past the park entrance.  He just appeared in the distance.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“I went to Alamogordo to interview Aaron Sorenson.  His father was one of the physicists on the original atom bomb project at Los Alamos.”

“Yes, I know Mr. Sorenson,” said Rafe.  “He’s lived out there most of his life.  Why did you want to see him?”

Sarah shrugged.  “I’m a writer.  I’m working on a story about the history of nuclear research in New Mexico.  If the story sells, it could turn into a series.”  She looked at him with a wobbly smile.  “I thought it would be so easy, just interview the family members and get the true story.”

She looked away.  “I didn’t count on getting the fright of my life.”  Still shaking, she tried to stand.  Her legs didn’t hold her and she sat down hard on the chair.

“Miss Quinlan, please slow down.  You’re not ready to get up yet.  We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“But I didn’t see anything really.  I can’t identify him.  Please, I just want to get out of here.”  Sarah grabbed the arm of the chair and stood.  “There, you see?  I’m fine.  I’ve got other interviews scheduled today.”

He stood and towered over her.  “I can’t let you leave.  It isn’t safe.  Besides, as a material witness we can hold you against your will.”

Sarah started for the door.  “But you can’t do that.  I don’t know more than what I’ve told you.  I want to leave now.” 

“Miss Quinlan,” he said, taking her arm.  “I’ve seen eleven other kachina dolls like this one.” 

He looked directly into her eyes.  “Each one of the dolls was on the body of a murdered woman found out at White Sands, once a month for the last year.  He’s major news in this area.  The press calls him the Kachina Killer.  His victims have all had red hair.” 

Rafe guided Sarah back to the chair.

“It’s time for him to kill again.  I think you saw him last night.  Worse yet, it looks like he’s picked you to be number twelve.”

Sarah sank back down on the chair.  Though her mouth hung open, she could not speak.

* * *

Hours later Rafe returned to headquarters and Sarah Quinlan.  “I drove out to see Mr. Sorenson.  He verified your visit yesterday,” he said as he sat down. 

He pulled the evidence bag out of his pocket and put it on the table.  The red ribbon looked like a trail of blood under the fluorescent lights.

“What’s that?” Sarah whispered.

“It’s the killer’s favorite weapon.  All eleven victims were strangled with a length of ribbon, red like this one.”  He watched Sarah.  “I found it on the side of the road about where you stopped yesterday.”

She put her head in her hands, visibly shaking.  “He’ll find me.”  She looked up at Rafe.  “There’s no place for me to go, is there?”

“You’ll be fine with us.  We want to catch this guy.  With your assistance, we just might do that.”  He took her hand.  “I promise we’ll keep you safe.”

Sarah nodded and wiped the tears on her cheeks.  “Thank you.”

“There’s an officer guarding the door to this room.  Try to relax.  No one can get to you while you’re in the building.”  He stood.  “Is there anything you need, anything I can get for you?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Just call out if there’s a problem.”  Rafe left the room with its forlorn occupant.  He walked to Sergeant O’Hara’s desk.

“Did you learn anything from Sorenson?”

“She was there yesterday and left like she told us.  He wanted to talk more about his Earth Warriors, that group he formed, wouldn’t shut up about them.”

“How did you get away?”

Rafe grinned.  “I walked out on him.  What about you? Did you learn anything from the hotel security tape?”

  “A man got out of the elevator and left the doll in front of her door.  He wore a cap and kept his head down.  He appears to be six feet, medium build, no distinguishing features that we could see, plain denim jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans.”

Rafe’s cell phone buzzed.  “I need to take this.”  After a brief conversation, he clicked off the phone and grinned at O’Hara.  “Forensics found a GPS tracker on Miss Quinlan’s car.  I bet it was put on in the hotel lot last night.  That gives me an idea.”

* * *

The man was dressed all in black, hidden by the darkness in which he waited.  His face was covered by a black hood with only slits for eyes.  He followed the red-haired woman to a little house on Margaret Street.  Fernandez rode with her.  The detective let her into the house and moved through it to check for intruders.  The man watched from outside as Fernandez and the woman went from room to room, turning on the lights. 

When they came back to the front door, a police cruiser pulled up to the house. 

He moved into the shadows made by the garage roof, confident he was invisible in the gloom. 

“You’ll be safe here,” said the detective.  “Nobody knows about this place.  I’ll only be gone a few minutes.  Lock the door after me.”  Fernandez waited as she shut the door and locked it.  Then he got into the waiting car.

The man watched as the cruiser disappeared around the corner.  He crept around the outside again, checking the doors and windows.  In the back, a door opened when he tried it.  He glanced around and saw no one in view.  Getting in was easy despite the detective.

Slinking down the hallway, he came to the room in which he’d seen the woman, from the outside through the sheer drapes.  He could see the back of her head above a wing chair as she sat watching television. He reached into the backpack he wore and withdrew a length of ribbon.  He wrapped it around his hands and prepared to strike.

Suddenly, the overhead light turned on.  “Don’t take another step.”

Rafe stood in the doorway holding his Glock 20 on the culprit.  “Officer Mason, you can get up now.”

The red-haired police woman stood.  She held her weapon pointed at the intruder.  “Don’t move.”

The man let the ribbon fall onto the floor.  “Sarah is not here.”  The man’s voice was muffled by the hood.

“No, she isn’t.  She’s in a secure location.”  Rafe moved to the figure and ripped off the hood.

Aaron Sorenson looked back at him, a superior smile on his face, his pale eyes blinking in the light.  He did not resist while Rafe cuffed him and recited his rights. 

When they arrived at District 4 headquarters, Sorenson was taken in for interrogation.  He still had the smile on his face, as if it was all a game that he won.

Rafe sat across from his prisoner.  “Why did you follow us to the house tonight? “

Sorenson shook his head.  “Too late, Detective, you didn’t want to talk this afternoon. I don’t want to talk now.  I’d like to see my attorney, please.”

Disgusted, Rafe walked back to his office while Sorenson called his attorney. 

Sergeant O’Hara followed him.  “I printed this off the Earth Warriors’ website.  It’s their manifesto.” 

Rafe took the page and read it aloud.  “We will avenge the atrocities committed against our Mother Earth.  We will do what we must in retribution for each bomb and each missile that poisoned our beautiful Mother and left her pristine sand in piles of radioactive glass.  Atonement must be made.  The Mountain Spirits have decreed it.”

“How many tests have they made at White Sands?” asked O’Hara.

“I don’t know, over the years it could be dozens, a hundred maybe.”  He looked at O’Hara.

“How many members do they have?  We could have more than one killer.”

* * *

The dark man sat in his parked car.  He watched the hotel where the chosen woman had been brought.  In the stillness of the night, undisturbed by the sounds of nearby interstate traffic, he could wait and watch.  The black hood was on the seat beside him.  Everything else he needed was on the backseat. 

He would strike when the woman was vulnerable. If he failed, another would complete the ritual sacrifice.  The Mountain Spirits had spoken.

 

 

 

 

Touch the Sky

Here is the prologue from my Regency novel, Touch the Sky. I hope you enjoy it.

Prologue

London –1812

Accompanied by the sounds of the gallows rope as it twisted in the wind, Celeste soothed the tears of the younger children and settled them on the hard wooden seats.  I have to be strong for them.  Maman is too ill to help them now. And Papa…  She swallowed her sob.  The children needed her.

 “Are you warm enough?  We have a long journey ahead of us tonight.” She wanted to  distract the children from the dreadful sight outside, still visible in the twilight. 

Pulled by indifferent horses the dark carriage crept by the gallows.  The wheels creaked in accompaniment with a crescendo of sounds from the gathered crows. 

Inside the glacial interior of the shabby coach, each exhalation frosted.  The cold robbed the children of speech and left their grief unspoken.  Celeste offered what little comfort she could as she caressed them.

Their mother Giselle, leached pale without expression, curled in the opposite corner and stared in silence out the window, her children apparently forgotten. 

Celeste saw drying tear stains trailed down Maman’s cheeks, as if there were no tears left.  Maman’s chapped hands were a sharp contrast to her pale face as they protected her swollen belly.  She focused her gaze on the corpse outside. 

Swinging slowly on the gallows, the baron’s body performed a chilling dance choreographed by desolate winds.  As it spun, the face came into view. 

The well-loved face, mouth slackened in death, screamed silently at the injustice of his execution.  He died an innocent man.

“Promise me,” whispered Giselle, her voice breathless and hard to hear above the groan of the gallows and mournful cries of the crows.

Celeste leaned forward unable to make out the words.  “What did you say, Maman?”

Her eyes still on the corpse, her voice echoed through the dim light.  “Promise me, Celeste.  You will raise the children and avenge your father.” 

            “Bien sûr, Maman, whatever you wish.”  Celeste reached across the carriage and took Giselle’s limp hand to rub it between her own.  “Maman?”  She rubbed the hand harder.  “Please do not give up, we need you.  So much is already lost.”  With no response from her mother Celeste held her hand tighter, begging a reaction.

            Giselle glanced at her eldest daughter.  Celeste could see Maman’s will in her dull eyes.  Her soul left piece by piece.  She awaited only the birth of their last child to follow her husband in death.

Maman cannot die. I am only eighteen.  I don’t know what to do.  Afraid to accept the truth, Celeste returned her attention to her sister and brother.  

Mimi, only three-years-old, shivered on the bench beside her.  Celeste wrapped her own cloak over her baby sister and tucked the warm fabric around the little girl.  

She pulled nine-year-old William close to her on the other side, snuggled to share their warmth.  He put his head on her shoulder.

The horses plodded along the rutted road as the coach took the family away from their father. 

Without him, their new world grew as bleak as the ice encrusted landscape they passed.

Celeste looked out the window opposite the one that viewed the gallows.  She saw a lone man, resplendent in his military uniform on a beautiful white stallion.  The man watched them leave.  She recognized that horse.  What is he doing here? How dare he come to witness the result of his treachery. As she glowered at him, he reined his horse in the opposite direction.  The man’s head bent down, as if he carried a heavy burden.  Celeste did not care.  She never wanted to care again.

In the gathering darkness, her sisterly duties performed, Celeste faced her unwelcome thoughts.  Numb with cold and the heavy burden of responsibility, she packed away her grief and her fear.  I have no time for these feelings.  She put aside all emotion, save one.  The rage inside her took over, burning bright, the one warm thing in a frigid world. I have nothing left now.

  Those who harmed our family will pay. Maman and Papa, I vow they will all pay, even the man I once loved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Demon, My Love

Chapter 1

Windward House – Cornish Coast of England

Present Day

            Here are more intruders come to invade my home.  Why must they continue to torment me? I will easily frighten them away as I have all of the others. My work begins.

“What was that?”  Sierra turned back to the crew, startled by the thunderous crash.

            “Relax, it’s just Benny being clumsy, not the Windward Demon.”  Dave flipped his Texas Rangers cap around backward and bent to retrieve the fallen folding table.

            “Is any of the equipment damaged?”

            “No, it’s all still packed in the cases.  We just started the set-up.”

            With a grimace she said, “Okay, but be careful.  We’re a long way from home.  We can’t run back to Austin and pick up another camera.”

            “Just chill, Sierra.  The way you act you’d think we’re amateurs.  We’re the top rated paranormal show on the air.  We’ve been doing this for a couple of years, ya know.”

“We’ve never done a case with a documented demon.  This could be dangerous.  I need for you to act professionally on this one, no fooling around.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” said Dave with a mock salute.

“I’m going to explore the place while we still have the daylight.” 

Her crew paid no attention to her.  She walked partway up the once grand staircase, avoiding the discarded tools left by frightened workmen in their hurry to escape. 

  A breathy sigh floated on the breeze from the broken windows.

Sierra cocked her head to one side, as if to listen.

At least this one is female and pleasant to watch with her long legs in tight pantaloons.  With that pale hair she resembles Mariana.  Turn around, sweeting, so that I may see your face.    Ah, how obliging of her, she turned just for me.  I cannot tell if her dark eyes are brown or black.  Her bosom is most fair, but why does she wear a garment with writing upon her chest?  What words are those, Spirit Stalkers?  

The sound of his own joyful laughter surprised him.  He had not laughed like that in many years. Tis a pity she cannot stay. I would enjoy her company.

Sierra leaned over the scarred banister.  “Hey, did one of you laugh just now?”

“No, ma’am,” called Dave.  “We’re at work.  We’re not allowed to laugh.”

Soft chuckling sounded from below.  “Yeah, right.”  She continued up the stairs, her lips twisted into grin.

If I can drive them away as easily as the workmen, I will be at peace this evening.  With great effort he hurled a large stone from the highest riser.  He watched as it crashed down several steps below the woman.

She shrieked and stared down at the melon sized rock that came from above her.

“Sierra, are you all right?  What happened?”  Dave ran to the staircase with Benny behind him.

‘Looks like we got the customary welcome to Windward.”  She bent to scan the stone electronically. 

“No energy readings, that’s odd. Something threw that thing from the top of the stairs.”  Sierra looked up at the top of the staircase.  “Nothing up there, no shadow, no movement. Okay, here I come, ready or not.”  She continued up the stairs.

Windward House – 1661

Dawn filled the chamber with a roseate glow.  Devon looked at his wife, peacefully asleep beside him.  Her fair hair fanned over the pillows.  He could not resist the urge to touch the silken strands.

So much had happened to them in their short time together.  They had spent most of their married life apart. He had been away fighting the roundheads.  Only when King Charles, newly restored to the throne, bestowed Windward House upon him, had he been able to give his wife a proper home.

Mariana stirred and opened her dark eyes.  She smiled at the sight of him.  “Devon,” she murmured, pulling him to her for a long and satisfying kiss.

“Good morning, my love.”  He moved over her to gently suckle her ample breasts.  “Motherhood agrees with you.”

She laughed deep in her throat.  “I am not a mother yet.  The babe won’t be born for five more months at least, according to the midwife.”  She arched her back to enjoy his attentions.

Devon ran his hands over her velvet skin careful of the growing mound of her belly.  His lips followed his hands as he tasted her rich warm flesh.  “I will miss you so much.”

She pouted.  “We are just settled into our home.  Why must you go to court now?”

He raised his head from his delightful task.  “I serve at the king’s pleasure.  When I am summoned I must go.”

She gripped his shoulders, stopping him, her expression serious.  “I have heard tales of the life at the king’s court.  Promise me, Devon, you will not succumb to their wild ways.  I don’t want to lose you. I love you.”

“You will never lose me, my love.  On my honor never will I love another in my lifetime.”

Mariana smiled at him.  “I will hold you to that pledge.” She pulled him down for another kiss.

When the kiss ended, Devon looked at her for a moment.  “How could I turn from the perfection of my only love?  Do not worry so.”

“Yes, but there will be beautiful women at court, well versed in the ways of seduction.  When you come home, you will find me an unattractive lump so round I will hardly be able to move.”

“In that case, I’ll hold you on my lap and kiss you senseless,” he said, with a quiet laugh.  “You will always be the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld, especially when you carry my son.”

“Oh, you are sure it is a son, are you? We haven’t even selected any names yet.  And what if I carry a daughter?”

“She will be as lovely as her mother and I will worship her.” He hugged her to him and held her fast.  “I must go to court, but I will return before our babe is born.” 

“You will be well cared for here.  We are near enough for your lady mother to visit as she wishes. When I return, you will tell me what name you have chosen for our child. ”

Mariana sighed as she nestled against her husband. 

“Yes, Mama will be here to help if I need her.  I won’t lack companionship. But it is you I want and you I will miss.”  She looked up at him.  “Do hurry back to me.  Do not stay one moment longer there than you must.”

“I will return to you as soon as I am released from court.”  He kissed her again and smelled the lavender scent of her hair.  “I vow we will be together for eternity.”

* * * * * * * *

 “Wait a minute, Sierra,” said Dave, “you want us to come with you?  How about a walkie in case you need help?”

“No.  Keep on with the prep work.  I just want to check things out before it gets dark.”

“Why are you so nervous?  I’ve never seen you like this.  What’s different about this case, besides the demon aspect?”

“I don’t know.  There’s just such sadness here, so much pain.  Can’t you feel it?”

“Oh so now you’re a psychic?”

She nudged his shoulder.  “Of course not, this is a significant case for us.  I’m anxious for it to go well.”

Dave shook his head and went back to his assigned task.  “Okay, just be careful!”

“I will.”  She reached the top and stood to look at the surroundings.  Light from mullioned windows with broken panes flowed to illuminate the hallway. 

The stone walls were black with mold.  She could smell the salty tang of the sea in the chilled air, mixed with the heavy layer of dust that covered every surface.

She heard movement behind her and turned.  There was nothing there.  “It must be my imagination,” she muttered.

 “GET OUT, SIEEERRRRAAAA!” 

The hoarse guttural voice was so loud it came from everywhere.

Surprised that she trembled, she took a couple of deep breaths.  “It’s just because I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”  She glanced in each direction.  There was nothing to be seen. Yet someone or something was there.  She heard the voice with her ears, without benefit of a recorder. 

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked.  “I’ve heard all the stories.  Where’s the apparition, the blood running down the walls?  So far, I’m not impressed.”

“Wait until tonight.”  The sibilant whisper sounded right behind her ear.

She spun expecting to see him.  Again there was no one within view.  “Is that a promise? I will hold you to it.  Go on, hit me with your best shot…”

After a moment of silence, she heard Dave and Benny coming up the stairs.

“We put the cameras up in the designated areas.  You want any changes to our original plan?”

“No, stick to what we decided.  I’ll check out the rest of the rooms up here.  The pictures we studied and the room plans were very clear.  But I’d like to see everything for myself.  There could be some priest holes in a house this old.”  She charged forward and inspected each of the rooms on the corridor until darkness loomed.

The demon watched her from his vantage point.   Curious lass, this one is a challenge.  Which of my tricks will send her screaming into the night?  She cannot stay. This is my home, mine!  No one else may occupy this house. She may look like my Mariana, but she is no different than any other trespasser.  She must go.

Sierra walked into the room that would serve as headquarters for their stay.

“Have fun?” asked Dave as he peered at the monitor. 

“You heard that voice, huh?”

“Honey, they probably heard it in London.”

She grabbed a water bottle and drank deeply.  “Whew that’s good.”  Moving behind Dave she looked at his monitor.  The individual cameras were set to display on it. 

She watched for a moment and then moved to one of the chairs.  “Looks fine,” she said.  “We’ll start out in a bit.  Just let me rest and get my bearings.”

“You want hand held recorders and mini-dvds?”

“Yeah, sounds good.  If he manifests, we’ll catch him on camera.  Dave, you and I will take the first shift.  Benny, you can watch the monitor.  Note anything unusual and mark the time.”

In the darkness, Windward became even more sinister.  Rain blew in from the sea on winds that shrieked their fury.  Sierra and Dave moved through the house, camera and recorders in full operation.

            “You know my name.  You called out to me earlier,” said Sierra.  “What’s your name?”  She waited for an answer.  “What’s the matter?  Don’t want to talk to me?”

“NO!”

“I heard that.” Dave chortled behind her.

“Come on.  Tell me who you are.  Why are you still here?”

Only silence followed her question.

Dave mumbled something.  “Damn,” he said.  “The camera battery has gone dead.  I put in a fresh one just before we started.  I’ll run get a new one.  Stay here.”

“Okay.”  She squinted in the weak glow of her flashlight to watch him leave the room.

Thunder rumbled as lightning lit up the sky outside the broken windows.  Something light as cobwebs brushed her back.  She turned quickly and scanned the area with the meager flashlight as the lightning waned.

“Is that you?  Did you just touch me?”

The flashlight flew from her hand and crashed against the wall, its light extinguished.  Sierra tensed in the darkness.

She felt something caress her face gently.  Startled, Sierra stepped back.  “Stop it,” she said.  “If you won’t talk, you don’t get to touch.” 

Low laughter, decidedly male, sounded near her, barely discernable over the sound of the wind. 

She stepped back again, only to bump into something.  As she spun to confront her assailant, arms went around her waist and pulled her to a hard body. 

“You’re no ghost,” she said as she pushed against him in an attempt to break free.

“I am known by many names.”  The rich baritone teased her ear.

“Who are you?”  Sierra stood in total darkness riveted in his arms.

“I am the one you seek.”

The body melted away from Sierra.  She could not hear his movement.  He simply was gone.

Footsteps sounded from the corridor.  Dave walked into the room. The light from his camera illuminated the area.  “I put in a fresh battery.  We’re ready to go.” 

“Did you see anybody else in the hall?”

“No, didn’t see anybody or hear anything except the thunder and the wind.”  He turned the camera on her, lighting her face with its lamp.  “Are you okay?”

“I had a personal experience,” she said.  “Let’s film an interview about it.  You ready?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Briefly she detailed the loss of her flashlight and how she had been held by phantom arms. 

“I couldn’t see or hear him except when he spoke.  But he felt solid, like he was real.  I asked his name, but he wouldn’t say.”

“CALL ME DEMON!” the voice reverberated throughout the room, echoing off the walls, followed by mocking laughter.

“That’s it,” said Dave.  He shut off the camera and grabbed her arm.  “Let’s go.”

They didn’t stop until they reached the main entry hall where the monitors were set.

Sierra sank into a folding chair and tried to slow her breath.

            “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dave looked at her with a concerned frown.

            She nodded.  “I’m fine, just give me a minute.”

Dave sat and reviewed the footage.  “Look at this.  You can see the flashlight fly across the room. How cool is that?  ”

Benny watched over his shoulder.  “That’s good stuff.  I bet we get lots of footage here.”

Sierra started to rise.  “I need to get back up there.”

“Oh no, you don’t.”  Dave put his hand on her shoulder.  “Stay here and regroup for awhile.  We haven’t filmed the interview about the history of this place.  We can do that now.”

“You may be my older brother, but I run this team.  I don’t want to lose contact with the entity.”

“You’re not going to lose contact.  People have been dealing with this thing for years.  He’s not going anywhere.”

She sat there for a minute. 

“You’re right.  I need to be professional and not get too excited.”  Pulling her ponytail tight, she smoothed down its length.  “Do I look okay?”

He gave her the thumbs up sign.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

She nodded and stood, moving to stand before the windows.  Lightning flashed outside, creating the perfect atmosphere to record in a haunted house.

“We’re here at Windward House on the Cornish coast of England.  Built in 1643, the local people have long said it is haunted.  It was last occupied during World War II when the military camped on its grounds.  Since then, no one has been able to stay within its walls more than a night.”  She walked to the table containing the equipment, using the monitors as a backdrop.

“Last year, the current owner, British film star Conal Winston, decided to restore Windward House.  He worked with architects and arranged for workmen to begin renovation.  The workmen did not stay for a single day.  Something frightened them so badly they fled and left their tools.  The men refused to come back.”  She gestured to the array of dusty tools still there against the walls. 

Dave focused the camera back on Sierra’s face.

“Two different teams of paranormal researchers were called in to investigate.  They decided it was a demon haunting the property.  The Church agreed and performed an exorcism.”     Sierra paused.  “The entity is still here within the walls of this old house in spite of all efforts to drive him out.  We learned that today, as you will see in subsequent footage.”

“And cut,” said Dave.  “Nice job.”
She sat down once more and grabbed her water bottle.  “Now all we have to do is find him and get him to leave.”