Krewe Of Hunters: Crimson Twilight Part 6

At one of the windows.

Watching her.

As she watched them.

Jane was a special agent, the same as he was. She'd pa.s.sed the academy and was in law enforcement. But she was still the woman he loved, the woman he was supposed to have married that day. So when Sloan realized Jane was out of the Great Hall, he followed. He didn't know why he felt such a sense of anxiety, but he did. He saw her, far down the path to the castle, as soon as he exited and came down the few stone steps at the entrance.

She was just standing on the path, looking back.

He hurried to her. She smiled as he came to her and pointed up at the castle.

"Someone is there," she said.

"Someone?" he asked.

"Were they all in the Great Hall?" she asked.

"When I left, yes."

"Then I believe Elizabeth does haunt our room," she said.

Sloan looked up. There was nothing there then.

She smiled. "No, I'm not losing it. Someone was there. Now, they're not."

"I believe you," he said.

"You know, I'm really not losing it in any way," she said, turning to him so that he slipped his arms around her. She smoothed back a lock of his hair. "I don't care where or when we marry one another. It doesn't matter. And it doesn't matter that we weren't married today. It does matter that a man died. A good man."

He smiled and nodded. "I know that."

Impulsively, he went down on a knee and took her hand. He kissed it both dramatically and tenderly and looked up to meet her eyes.

"I love you with the depth and breadth of my heart and soul. In my heart, you've already been my wife, my love, my soul mate, my life mate. Not to mention one h.e.l.l of an agent. And artist, of course."

She laughed, drawing him to his feet and giving him a strong buff on the arm. "That started off so beautifully!"

"Hey, you are an amazing artist. And agent. You want to be an agent tonight, right?"

"I do," she told him. "It's just that speech, it could have stayed romantic."

"Want me to try again?"

"No!" She laughed. "I say we get back up there and make sure that Emil Roth makes it to his room."

"And then we'll make it to ours," he said.

"And then we'll make it to ours," she agreed.

Hand in hand, they made it back to the house. In the Great Hall, Mrs. Avery was saying that she needed to get some sleep. Chef told her that breakfast came early, and Phoebe Martin was headed upstairs, but when she saw Jane and Sloan come in, she stopped.

"Thank you so much, Jane, for the sketch. It's wonderful. And thank you both for somehow making a nice evening out of a horrible day. Good night. And don't forget, if you need anything-anything at all-we're happy to oblige."

"Thank you, Phoebe," Jane told her.

She scampered on toward the stairway. Jane followed her. As she did so, she heard Sloan and Logan talking to Emil Roth, convincing him that they'd see him to his room. It was time to sleep. The men and Kelsey were looking to see that Emil was safe. Jane followed Phoebe up the stairs, and then on up to the third floor.

Phoebe turned to look at her when she reached her door.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

"You're worried about all of us."

"There was a lot of wine flowing down there at the dinner table."

But Phoebe looked at her with wide eyes.

"You don't believe that the reverend's death was an accident, do you?" she asked.

"Actually, we found out that he had a heart condition. That might have caused him to stumble. But we'll know more when the M.E. makes his report," Jane said.

But Phoebe still watched her. "That won't make any difference to you, will it? You think that he was killed."

Jane said, "The police seem to believe it was an accident."

"Do you think we're all in danger?"

"No," Jane said.

That wasn't a lie. Whoever the killer was, they were part of the castle crew. And the killer certainly wasn't in danger.

Phoebe shook her head. "Thank you for tonight."

"Of course," Jane said.

She left Phoebe to descend the stairs to the second level.

Careful as she did so.

Within another ten minutes, everyone was where they should be or on their way to their own homes. Sloan watched as Jane came down from the attic level, her hand firmly on the handrail of the far less elegant steps that led from the second floor to the attic. She joined him, Logan, and Kelsey on the second floor landing by their rooms.

"One of us will be up through the night. I'm taking first s.h.i.+ft and Kelsey will be second. You two deserve to get some sleep or whatever tonight."

"We're fine," Sloan a.s.sured him.

"We know that," Kelsey said, grinning. "We just want you to know that we're on the awake duty, or guard duty, or whatever you want to call it."

Sloan started to protest but Jane caught his arm. "Just tell them thank you, Sloan."

"Thank you," Sloan said.

Jane dragged him into the room.

"I'm, uh, up for whatever you're in the mood for," he said.

But she walked away from him, leaving him in the entry and heading into the bedroom. She stood there for a while and then walked back out.

"She's not here," she said.

"No?"

She shook her head with disappointment. "I thought that she would be. I thought that tonight we'd see her."

Sloan walked to her and took her gently into his arms. "Maybe she knows that we're here. Maybe she knows why we came. And maybe she's as good and sweet as history paints her. What she really wants is happiness for others."

She'd felt warm in his arms. Warm, soft and plaint, trusting, so much a part of him that their heartbeats seemed the same. But then she stiffened and pulled away from him. He realized that she was looking out one of the windows. The drapes hadn't been pulled closed. She walked to it and he followed closely behind her.

And he saw what she saw.

There was a man standing in the moonlight. He was by the caretaker's cottage, looking up. He seemed to be in breeches and a blousy poet's s.h.i.+rt. His hair was long, his thighs encased in boots.

"John McCawley," Jane whispered.

Sloan had to agree.

The figure in the moonlight faded.

Jane turned into Sloan's arms. "The past has something to do with this. I know it."

"We should get some sleep," he told her.

She nodded and headed into the bedroom. It was supposed to have been their wedding night. But he knew her. She was upset. The minister she'd brought to the castle had died here.

"I love you," she said.

"I know," he told her.

"I'll be in bed," she said. "Just give me a few minutes."

He let her go and walked over to the board Kelsey had set up that day, studying what she had written. Who had something to gain from the death of a minister?

He went over the names.

Mrs. Avery, he thought. The distant relative. The woman who had allowed Jane to book the castle for the wedding.

He walked into the bedroom. Jane hadn't even disrobed. She was lying on her side, her eyes closed, sound asleep. He laid down beside her and drew her into his arms. He held her as his mind whirled until he managed to sleep himself.

And then- He woke.

He didn't know why. It was almost as if someone had shaken him awake.

But there was no one there.

Curious, he rose and walked back out to the foyer, then opened the door to the hall. Logan was opening the door to his room at the same time. Sloan looked down the other way. Someone was approaching Emil Roth's room in the darkness.

"Hey!" Sloan shouted.

The figure paused and turned to him. He could make out little of the person in the darkness. Whoever it was had bundled up in black pants, a black hoodie, and what even seemed to be a black cape of some kind. In the pale glow of the castle's night-lights, something gleamed.

A knife?

"Stop," Sloan demanded.

He stepped from his room, listening in the back of his mind for his door to close, for the lock to catch. He wasn't leaving Jane alone without a locked door. For a few seconds the figure stared at him and he stared back.

"Stop!" Sloan ordered again.

The figure began to run down the stairs at a breakneck speed.

Sloan raced after the person, Logan at his heels.

Chapter 6.

Jane awoke to the sound of Sloan's voice, disturbed, aware she needed to be up. But she felt a soft touch on her cheek. Not the touch of a lover, rather the brush of gentle fingers that a mother, a sister, or a caring friend might give. For a moment she lay still, her Glock on the bedside table. If there was someone there, no matter how lightly they touched her- She opened her eyes.

And saw Elizabeth Roth.

The ghost looked at her with sorrow and grave concern. And then, when she realized that Jane was awake, she vanished.

"No!" Jane said. "Please, help us. Don't go!"

But there were more shouts in the hallway and the apparition disappeared in a matter of seconds, fading from Jane's sight. Jane bolted up, grabbed her gun, and headed into the hall.

It was empty.