“Quite an adventure,” I say, but the only thing I can think of is Silas.
The note on my nightstand, written in dark, thick ink I’d swear was made by a quill pen, said he would be back and not to be frightened.
When will he be back? When I’m dead? When I go back to sleep? If he was real, my God, what have I done? Was it part of the game? Having someone come into my room at night?
Pretending to be a ghost?
But, the sex. They wouldn’t really do that, would they? I feel that cool breeze swim around me again, wondering if I’m losing my mind and maybe that’s exactly what they want.
“Yep,” Charles answers, pulling me back into the moment as he pushes his chair back and his eyes dart to the wall behind me then back to me.
“Is there something wrong?”
He licks his bottom lip as he gives me an odd stare, sniffing and shaking his head. “Nope. Nothing wrong.”
Dalton’s voice fills the room and I half- jump out of my chair, spilling some of my coffee on the white tablecloth.
You will return to your rooms now. Find the last envelope with your task on your beds. Good luck.
Charles nods his head toward the arched entry to the dining room. “You ready?”
“Sure.” I take one last gulp of my black fortifier and ease back from the table. As I turn to head in his direction, I catch myself in the mirror and a chill grabs me around the neck.
There’s a shadow standing behind me. Tall, translucent and that smell envelops me again. The same one from the ballroom yesterday and my bedroom last night. And the room starts to spin. I let out a small whimper on an inhale, then look again and the shadow is gone. The scent evaporates and I see Charles stifling a tight grin.
“Funny place.”
“Yeah,” I sneer, “really funny. What was it they made you do last night?”
I march around the table, not sure what sort of games are being played here but I’m used to being the dealer, not the player. I hitch my shoulders back and make my way to where Charles is standing. I’m an actress after all, I can play this part as long as is necessary.
“Nothing much. Had to go into some closet with a secret stairway down to a sort of basement chamber. Some bullshit happened. Don’t care. They’re not going to scare me off.”
We walk in step out into the hall, the portraits on the wall seeming to follow us with their eyes. When we get to the double stairway, Charles turns and grabs my upper arm.
“You know…” His voice is low and I stiffen as his manner darkens. “A lot at stake here. Would be a shame if someone…” He tips his head back and forth. “Got hurt. Or worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean.” He lowers his head closer to my ear. “You’re a fragile thing. I spent enough years in enough places to know who can take the heat and who can’t. I’ve got a proposal for you.”
I jerk my arm away. “I’m not as fragile as you assume.”
“Sure, fine. Think what you want, I know what I know. Just saying, I’ll cut you in for let’s say, twenty percent of the value. All you’ve gotta do is go to your room, open your little envelope, then push your button.” His fingers dance down my arm until they grip my wrist, tapping the wristband, but I pull it away. “You decide. Hate to see anything bad happen to you.”
“Fuck off,” I snap. For a second, I consider shoving him or giving him a good left hook, but that would give him exactly what he wants. No contact with other contestants. “I’ll take my chances.”
With that, I head up my stairway, not looking back. I’m not sure if this is real or a dream, but I’m sure of one thing. I’m not taking shit from him or anyone else. This is bizarre, and yeah, I’m scared, but something inside me is lit. I’m forging ahead. Is it the money?
Not so much.
It’s some inner drive that’s growing. It’s also Silas. Whatever that was that happened last night? I feel a new strength. A new sense that someone has my back and I’m safe. As stupid as that may sound.
There’s a tingling between my legs as I re-enter the bedroom. Can I be in love with a ghost? Is that possible? I know from romance books and movies, it is, but this is real. Real-ish? I guess?
I don’t hesitate when I see the envelope on the bed. I stomp over, slip my finger under the seal and see the same writing in the same quill sort of ink as the note on my nightstand, and I shiver, but my heart speeds when I read.