Veiled Existence Page 9

  “It’s all right,” Dale said. “Even though I spent the entire summer in Ireland learning about my ability, I still feel inadequate.”

  “Ireland? Do you think that’s why Nik sent you?” Jeni asked. “I mean, the church was established by an Irish priest, right?”

  Dale pressed his lips together. “I doubt Nik would’ve come up with my name without the Irish connection.”

  The conversation fell off after that and Jeni studied the ever-present river bluffs, softened by the covering of trees. The bright colors of the changing leaves contrasted the gray skies.

  An electronic chime startled her from her reverie and Dale plucked his phone from the console. Judging from his side of the conversation, he wasn’t receiving good news. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. His next words, “I hope he’ll be all right,” sent hot fingers of fear into Jeni’s guts. “Okay. Thank you.”

  “They found Ice?” Jeni blurted out before Dale could speak.

  “No.” Dale leveled his dark gaze at Jeni. “That was the church secretary calling to cancel our appointment. Someone broke into the rectory last night and the priest was hurt.”

  Inside her chest, relief warred with disappointment and Jeni pressed a hand to her breastbone. “Someone tried to rob the rectory?”

  “She didn’t say anything about theft. Only that the priest was attacked.”

  “So what now?” Tyler asked.

  “I still need to check out the church and the grounds,” Dale said. “But we won’t have access to the historical records like the pastor would have.”

  Jeni crossed her arms over her chest, thinking.

  Then Tyler actually voiced her thoughts. “The records will still be at the church, right?”

  Jeni studied Dale’s reaction. He didn’t flinch. “So…maybe we can help ourselves,” she said.

  None of them spoke after that, and Jeni wondered if the guys were thinking what she was thinking: what if the church was locked?

  The sound of movement in the tunnels roused Ice from his doze. Alarm speared him and he jerked upright. The old woman was returning, just as she’d promised. He flicked on the lantern sitting in his lap, instinctively scrambling away from the opening even though he had no choice but to face his foe. His only hope was to learn as much as possible about his adversary if he intended to prevail.

  She wanted something from him or he’d already be dead. He had to discover what that was.

  His pulse picked up pace as the sloshing echoes grew louder. He watched the opening warily, expecting a haggard face to appear and wondering if the old woman would actually wriggle her way through that hole. Or perhaps she’d break the enchantment and demand that Ice come to her.

  But when a face came into view, it wasn’t an old woman’s.

  It was Elletre. Her beauty was so surreal against the slime-covered crumbling caves that Ice blinked, squeezing his eyes shut and then stretching them wide. He thought Elletre had been the bait, that her dirty work was done. Perhaps the toxic fumes conjured a hallucination.

  Her face disappeared and in its place a small backpack protruded, tumbling to the side of the hole. Delicate arms snaked through the opening and a minute later Elletre crouched inside the cavern. A slight crease marred the perfect skin on her forehead. “How are you?”

  Ice gaped at her.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s terrible down here.” She stood, lifting the backpack. “I brought you so—”

  “You’re sorry?” His voice was coarse and dry. “Then let me out.”

  She gazed at him sympathetically, the luster of her hair glinting in the lamplight like treasure in a dragon’s den. “I can’t do that.”

  Recovering from his initial surprise, Ice remembered his plan to gain information. “Why? What does the old woman want with me?”

  Elletre looked at him thoughtfully and then her shoulders slumped as she sighed. “I’m not sure. But she made me bring you here. I didn’t want to.” Again Ice noted her faint accent. Each word sounded correct, but the cadence of her speech was slightly off, as if English was her second language.

  Tilting her chin down, she looked though her eyelashes at him and lifted the arm holding the pack. “I brought you some food, though.”

  Ice took the bag. He didn’t trust her, but he was starving. Several bottles of water were inside along with some snack bars and a prepackaged lunch kit which contained small rounds of cold cuts, cheese slices and crackers.

  “…she assumed you wouldn’t eat anything that wasn’t sealed.”

  Dropping to the ground and folding his legs in, Ice slid the lunch from its sleeve and peeled the plastic off of the tray. He cast a sidelong glance at Elletre. “You didn’t seem like you were doing anything against your will.”

  Elletre took a few steps and then sat down facing Ice, her legs curled beside her. She wore jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt, still managing to look sexy. With her gaze lowered, she spoke quietly. “I know. I’m under her control. I have to do what she says.”

  “How does she control you?”

  “A spell. I guess she’s some kind of witch or something.”

  Ice’s gut instinct made him leery of her explanation even though it made sense. After all, Elletre’s kiss had bent Ice to her will. But she’d seemed so predatory that night, as if she truly enjoyed taking him captive. He looked up to find her watching him.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Her eyes shone, glassy in the light of the lantern. “I can’t stand that she made me into some kind of monster.”

  Tears had pooled and rested precariously on Elletre’s lower lashes. In the yellow electric light her eyes were dark red wine. His steely resolve softened, just a bit. “What does she want with…with us?” He went along with her story, thinking he might get better answers.

  “She uses me to get guys like you.”

  “What does she do with them?” Ice’s heart stuttered as he asked the question.

  Elletre looked away. She reached for the backpack, opened the front zipper pocket and removed a first aid kit.

  He tried a different tack. “After you lure them in, do you ever see them again?”

  “Usually. Like this.” She indicated the backpack, the food and medicine.

  “And then?” Finished with the lunch kit, Ice shoved the empty tray back into the cardboard sleeve.

  Her shoulders rose and then fell as she fiddled with the latch on the first aid kit. “Then they’re gone.”

  “Does she…” Ice swallowed hard. “Does she kill them?”

  Elletre’s gaze slid to his, and then darted away. “If they do what she wants, she sets them free.”

  “What does she want them to do?”

  Ripping open the sealed packet in her hand, she removed a towelette. “I’m going to clean the wound on your head.”

  Before he could resist, Elletre closed the space between them and knelt by his side. Warm, smooth fingertips brushed the hair from his brow and held it in place. She dabbed gingerly around the scrape. His nostrils burned with the smell of isopropyl alcohol before her scent enveloped him. Though something inside Ice urged him to pull away, the relief from breathing the poisoned fumes rooted him to the spot. A lungful of the perfumed air was like surfacing from a deep dive to draw in a breath.

  The strain in his chest eased as his heart beat in a regular rhythm. Ice closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The sting of the open wound seemed far away. He sat motionless in the cloud of fragrance even when her hands no longer touched him. He was lying in a meadow of wild flowers in mid-summer. Then a bandage was gently pressed to his forehead.

  A tearing sound preceded a whiff of alcohol’s sharp odor and then a cool sensation tingled on his skin as she whisked the antiseptic towelette over his face, chin and neck. Elletre rested her free hand on his thigh, leaning in close to clean his face. Then her lips grazed
his cheek.

  Ice’s eyes snapped open and he jerked his head back. “What are you doing?”

  Gazing into his eyes, she whispered seductively. “I can make it easier for you, Ice.”

  This close, Ice could see that she was flawless. Her skin was smooth and radiant—the face of a goddess. The hand on his thigh shifted forward as the other caressed the back of his neck, sending a shiver across his back as her fingertips skimmed the base of his hairline. She leaned in to kiss him.

  “N-no,” he stammered, fighting the desire to surrender. “I don’t want you to control me.”

  “I can set you free,” she breathed.

  Ice gulped in what he knew would be his last sweet breath. “No.” He shoved her away. “I want to know what the old woman wants. And I intend to make the choice of my own free will.”

  Elletre drew back, glowering at him. “Then you’ll suffer down here.” Her eyes reflected red in the artificial light, the way a pet’s eyes appear demon-like from a camera flash. She rose to her feet.

  Seconds later she disappeared into the darkness, a scuffle of loose rocks and distant splashes marking her departure. The noxious gasses in the cavern overwhelmed Ice and he crawled to the opening, stretching his face toward the slightly better air.

  He hoped he hadn’t just sealed his doom.

  Jeni distributed food from a brown paper bag, wedging Dale’s Styrofoam container between the seats so it wouldn’t slide off the console and placing a couple of napkins within easy reach. Noticing a distinct lack of fast food on the Great River Road, they’d decided to get something to eat during a stop for gas in Lansing. The relief of getting off the riverboat and taking action had allowed the aromas in the restaurant to wake Jeni’s appetite as they waited for sandwiches to go. She settled into the backseat with her own carry-out container, eager to sink her teeth into an Italian sub.

  About fifteen minutes later Dale passed his phone to Tyler. “Check the map, would you? I think we should be getting close.”

  Tyler studied the screen for a moment. “It’s uh…oh, no service.”

  “Then we must be close,” Jeni said. She popped the last couple chips into her mouth and closed the container, leaning forward to look out the windshield. “Let’s see, the tour bus came from the opposite direction so the church will be on our right.”

  A few minutes later the road curved and crossed over a creek. “That’s it,” Jeni said, as they sidled along an open area where the church stood atop a verdant hill.

  Dale slowed and made a turn, rolling into the dirt lot adjacent to the stairway set in the hillside. All three of them sat for a moment after the engine stopped, evaluating the welcome offered by metal letters that spelled out “Wexford” on the archway heading the steps. Tyler was first to swing his door open.

  Jeni let the guys lead the way up the stairs, peering around them at the church grounds. Despite the riot of autumn color, an ominous cast now shrouded the quaint scene. She wondered what secrets were hidden here. Had something terrible happened? Something so horrific that it had been covered up for years?

  A gust of wind swept Jeni’s hair away from her face as she ascended the last step. Dale had paused, taking in the details of the landscape. He turned to Jeni. “I assume you toured the church?”

  She nodded.

  “And the cemetery?” Ridges rose on Dale’s brow as he contemplated the scattered grave markers.

  “I stayed away.” She saw Tyler turn his head in her direction, but she didn’t look at him. “I kept to the outskirts, taking pictures.”

  “Let’s take a walk around it then.” Dale struck off to the left, away from the church.

  “I’ll see if the church is unlocked,” Tyler announced.

  Already following Dale, Jeni glanced over her shoulder to see her cousin hadn’t waited for a response. The bluff provided a brief reprieve from the chilly gusts as they rounded the back of the graveyard. Scanning the surroundings, Dale slowed and appeared to be watching his step.

  Jeni approached warily. “Are you looking for something?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, taking another step forward. “Just a feeling.”

  Tyler had made it to the church and Jeni paused, watching to see if he was able to get inside. He tugged the handle on each door, but neither opened. Her attention returned to Dale, who was crouched, studying something in the grass. Coming up behind him, Jeni’s heart skipped a beat, fairly certain he was looking at the rock that had tripped her.

  Dale rolled the stone from its place, brushing away dirt.

  After a quick glance to confirm that Tyler was still across the yard, she said, “I think that’s the rock I tripped over when I was taking pictures. I didn’t see any writing or anything so I figured it had fallen from the bluff.”

  Dale rotated the stone again. “Did you bring a water bottle from the car?”

  “No.” Her pulse thumped in her temples.

  Lifting the rock, Dale turned it, scrubbing the bottom on the damp grass. Then he examined the surface again. “I’m pretty sure there’s writing on here.”

  Alarm flared in Jeni’s chest. She hadn’t stayed out of the graveyard after all? She’d rolled the stone back into place with her hand. “Can you read it?” she asked, working to keep her voice steady.

  “Barely. But I’m pretty sure it’s Gaelic. It’s not a name, though. I think it’s a phrase or something.” Drawing his phone from his pocket, he snapped a couple pictures of the rock and then put it back the way he’d found it.

  Jeni’s tension eased, but she gave the stone a wide berth.

  Tyler loitered by the side of the church, shifting from foot to foot. A breeze rushed over the lawn, scattering leaves through the tombstones and Jeni burrowed her hands into her pockets, wishing the church had been open.

  As they approached, Tyler inclined his head toward the building. “I checked the side door. It’s open.” A corner of his mouth crooked up and his gaze shifted from one face to the other.

  “Then we should knock.” Jeni stepped past him and rapped her knuckles on the wooden door. Solid wood, she guessed by the muffled sound her fist made. She glanced to Tyler, who’d already come to the conclusion that her knock was too timid, and he gave the door a few good raps.

  A hollow squawk issued from within the church followed by the thump of footsteps. Moments later, the door swung inward and a stocky man poked his pudgy face into the opening. “Sorry folks. Not opened to tourists today.”

  “We’re not tourists. We’re friends of Father Mulligan,” Dale said. “We were supposed to meet with him today.”

  The lines etched in the man’s forehead became deeper. “Father Mulligan is indisposed today. Call the parish number to reschedule.”

  “We know what happened to Father Mulligan,” Dale replied. “But he had some records and journals he wanted us to see. He said they were here.”

  “He sent us out even though he couldn’t be here,” Jeni added.

  The man peered at them dubiously. “Sorry kids, I’m maintenance. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for something like that. You’re really going to have to come back when Father Mulligan is here.” He pushed the door shut.

  Jeni looked from Dale to Tyler, sighing heavily. “It’s not like we can come back.”

  Tyler cocked his head. “I didn’t hear him lock the door or anything.” He reached out and twisted the knob.

  “But what if we walk right into him?” Jeni kept her voice low.

  “Remember the tour?” her cousin asked. “This door leads to the sacristy. The sound we heard came from inside the church. If he went back to whatever he was doing, he’s not in this back room.”

  Dale lifted his shoulders. “Be my guest,” he said to Tyler.

  Tyler stepped closer to the church’s back door and turned the knob slowly, his ear pressed to the wood. Gradual
ly, he pushed the door inward, poking his head inside when the gap was wide enough. “Clear,” he whispered over his shoulder, and then winced, feet rooted in the doorway, while the hinges screeched in protest as the door swung farther open.

  Time hung suspended and Jeni held her breath, eyes fixed on her cousin. His usual impassive demeanor had disappeared, his expression tense, although not with fear; instead his face was alight with an intense vitality. She imagined he looked that way on his snowboard as he whirled upside-down on a half-pipe or soared into the air off of a jump. The urge to laugh bubbled up as she realized the reason he’d agreed to come along was much more than what he’d stated. She could certainly stop feeling guilty for taking up his vacation time—he’d never get an adrenaline rush like this on the river cruise.

  Tyler twisted sideways, maneuvering his shoulders through the opening without touching the door. He looked back and motioned with his head for them to follow him inside. Dale lifted his hand in a “ladies first” gesture and Jeni stepped into the small room. A large picture of the pope greeted her, flanked by arched doorways on either side of the wall where it hung. To the right, a wooden table with two chairs hugged the wall and opposite was a countertop, sink and upper and lower kitchen cabinets.

  Moving to the side so Dale could enter, she noticed a crucifix mounted behind the door and felt a flash of shame. But they weren’t here to vandalize or steal anything, she reasoned, nor had they broken in.

  If Tyler experienced any guilt, he was over it and had an upper cupboard door open. Gold chalices and glass vessels glimmered in the low light and boxes of varying sizes occupied the shelves. “What, exactly, are we looking for?”

  “Historical documents,” Dale answered. “The pastor said they had information all the way back to when Father Kerr established the church.”

  Jeni squatted and fastidiously opened one of the lower cabinet doors. Seeing only jugs of wine, she tried another door and found stacks of shallow boxes. The shadowy interior suddenly blazed into definition when Dale directed a flashlight over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she whispered.