lightning—just a kind of glow.
Finally she turned in the direction of the front parlor. She wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if she didn’t check it out, she knew. Better to go and look, and satisfy herself that there was nothing weird.
Except that there was.
As Josie paused in the doorway, one hand lifted toward the light switch, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room. And the man. He was standing near the fireplace, a frown on his harshly handsome face, looking around as if searching for something. And this time he didn’t appear semi-transparent. This time he looked as real as any flesh-and-blood man would.
With perfectly eerie timing, the storm arrived overhead at that moment, massive with its own intensity. Thunder was a continuous roll of sense-numbing sound, and flashes of lightning came so swiftly that one dazzling burst of light followed another like a sequence of strobes.
Virtually blind between flashes, Josie could see only during them.
In that rapid series of stop-motion images, she saw the man turn his head and look toward the door, toward her. Still frowning, clearly frustrated now, he moved toward her. His left hand extended to her, imploring again, but this time with a touch of impatience.
Flash by flash, he was closer, seeming to glide rather than walk. His mouth was moving, but the thunder was so loud, it was all Josie could hear even if he was speaking, and ghosts couldn’t speak, could they? Closer, his eyes so directly fixed on her face that she knew he saw her, she
knew
he did, and he wanted her to do something, he needed her to help him—
Her fumbling fingers touched the light switch at last, and a shaky breath left her as light flooded the room. Gone. Gone as if he’d never been there.
Josie leaned against the doorjamb, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. Her knees felt weak, and she knew she was trembling. She wasn’t frightened exactly—but definitely unnerved and shaken.
Would he have touched her if she hadn’t turned on the light? Could he have? And why
had
he vanished when the light had been turned on? Before, in the hall upstairs, it had been shadowy; here only lightning had illuminated him. Was there something about inorganic light that rendered a ghost invisible?
Now,
there
was a disturbing possibility. Maybe there were actually ghosts all around the living, everywhere and all the time, only they couldn’t be seen in the unnatural light provided by electricity….
Josie got a grip on herself. Nonsense. Of course it was nonsense. Because if they could only be seen in organic light, then why was sunlight apparently off-limits to them? Ghosts were always seen at night, everybody knew that, usually in the wee small hours after midnight….
She looked at her watch and frowned, her intelligence beginning to take firm control of her nerves. Apparently, the ghost of Luke Westbrook had his own particular witching hour. It was just after ten, which was just about the same time of night she had seen him upstairs in the hallway. She had no idea why she hadn’t seen him on any of the nights in between—unless it was simply because they hadn’t been in the same room when he had made his nightly appearance?
Another disturbing thought.
Josie found herself backing away from the parlor door—and leaving the light on. She returned to the den, where Pendragon was curled up napping on the back of an overstuffed chair near the fireplace, and she just stood there for a few minutes almost compulsively stroking the cat and listening to the slowly diminishing sounds of the storm.
She was momentarily tempted to go into the kitchen and find the phone number Marc had left. It would have been nice to hear his deep voice, steady and reassuring…even if he didn’t believe her. And this time he’d really be ready to have her hauled away and locked up. After all, what could she say to him?
Hey, guess what? Luke came calling again, but this time it was really creepy and
Finally she turned in the direction of the front parlor. She wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if she didn’t check it out, she knew. Better to go and look, and satisfy herself that there was nothing weird.
Except that there was.
As Josie paused in the doorway, one hand lifted toward the light switch, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room. And the man. He was standing near the fireplace, a frown on his harshly handsome face, looking around as if searching for something. And this time he didn’t appear semi-transparent. This time he looked as real as any flesh-and-blood man would.
With perfectly eerie timing, the storm arrived overhead at that moment, massive with its own intensity. Thunder was a continuous roll of sense-numbing sound, and flashes of lightning came so swiftly that one dazzling burst of light followed another like a sequence of strobes.
Virtually blind between flashes, Josie could see only during them.
In that rapid series of stop-motion images, she saw the man turn his head and look toward the door, toward her. Still frowning, clearly frustrated now, he moved toward her. His left hand extended to her, imploring again, but this time with a touch of impatience.
Flash by flash, he was closer, seeming to glide rather than walk. His mouth was moving, but the thunder was so loud, it was all Josie could hear even if he was speaking, and ghosts couldn’t speak, could they? Closer, his eyes so directly fixed on her face that she knew he saw her, she
knew
he did, and he wanted her to do something, he needed her to help him—
Her fumbling fingers touched the light switch at last, and a shaky breath left her as light flooded the room. Gone. Gone as if he’d never been there.
Josie leaned against the doorjamb, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. Her knees felt weak, and she knew she was trembling. She wasn’t frightened exactly—but definitely unnerved and shaken.
Would he have touched her if she hadn’t turned on the light? Could he have? And why
had
he vanished when the light had been turned on? Before, in the hall upstairs, it had been shadowy; here only lightning had illuminated him. Was there something about inorganic light that rendered a ghost invisible?
Now,
there
was a disturbing possibility. Maybe there were actually ghosts all around the living, everywhere and all the time, only they couldn’t be seen in the unnatural light provided by electricity….
Josie got a grip on herself. Nonsense. Of course it was nonsense. Because if they could only be seen in organic light, then why was sunlight apparently off-limits to them? Ghosts were always seen at night, everybody knew that, usually in the wee small hours after midnight….
She looked at her watch and frowned, her intelligence beginning to take firm control of her nerves. Apparently, the ghost of Luke Westbrook had his own particular witching hour. It was just after ten, which was just about the same time of night she had seen him upstairs in the hallway. She had no idea why she hadn’t seen him on any of the nights in between—unless it was simply because they hadn’t been in the same room when he had made his nightly appearance?
Another disturbing thought.
Josie found herself backing away from the parlor door—and leaving the light on. She returned to the den, where Pendragon was curled up napping on the back of an overstuffed chair near the fireplace, and she just stood there for a few minutes almost compulsively stroking the cat and listening to the slowly diminishing sounds of the storm.
She was momentarily tempted to go into the kitchen and find the phone number Marc had left. It would have been nice to hear his deep voice, steady and reassuring…even if he didn’t believe her. And this time he’d really be ready to have her hauled away and locked up. After all, what could she say to him?
Hey, guess what? Luke came calling again, but this time it was really creepy and
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