Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [46]
"Look at this," Cheb announced. It seemed to Kathryn that his voice had become amplified, slicing through the still house like a plasma torch. The loudness made her uneasy.
He was pointing at a segment of the mural; on it, an idealized rendering of the very castellated mansion they were standing in stood atop a knoll, surrounded by heather fields.
"That's this castle, as Mr. Magruder imagined it in Ireland. And this couple-is Magruder and his bonny bride, the fair Mary Joanna Dugan." Kathryn stared at the couple who stood in front of the castle, radiantly happy. The man's arm was around the woman's shoulder, protectively; she gazed up at him with adoration shining from her eyes. Her hair was auburn, long and flowing, tied off her face with a blue ribbon that matched the azure of her Grecian gown.
He was sturdy and rock jawed, eyes glinting with determination, mouth set in a smile that seemed to bespeak not joy, but success. "My world," she imagined him saying, "under my control."
"Kathryn, come on." She looked up to see Cheb waiting for her; the others had already mounted the landing to the third floor. She shook off a chill and pulled herself away from the images of the couple and their dream-castle. And then she smelled the acrid wood smoke again, stronger than ever.
She looked up at Cheb, seeking comfort in his grave blue eyes. Because she was suddenly very, very frightened. "Someone's here," she whispered to him, and was relieved when he smiled and ruffled her hair. "Yeah," he said, "it's the ghost of Mary Dugan."
His jesting made her feel better. She was being silly, of course. They were alone in this isolated mansion, and she was letting her imagination play tricks on her. Ghost stories, indeed. She grinned back at him and they climbed to the third-floor hallway.
Where they found the others, pale and quiet, staring down the hall. Kathryn turned to follow their gaze, and saw what they saw: a flickering light was emanating from the crack under a closed door. She took an involuntary breath and clutched at Cheb's sleeve. A coldness began seeping through her.
To her horror, he began moving down the hall toward the light. She pulled on his arm, hissing at him. "What are you doing?"
"No one's supposed to be here. We should find out who it is."
"We're not supposed to be here. Who are we to police anybody else?"
"I'm with her," said Blake. "Let's get out of here."
"Are you afraid?" said Cheb, and the challenge in his voice was unmistakable.
"Yes," replied Blake easily, thereby dissolving Cheb's confrontation. "This has stopped being fun."
"Is that how you'd be if we were exploring an alien planet? Turning tail and running if you didn't think it was fun?"
"Sorry, Cheb, I'm not rising to the bait. I'm leaving. Anybody else with me?"
There was a charged moment and Kathryn suddenly felt things were completely out of control. She wanted to go, but now if she said so, it would be insulting to Cheb. Why had he turned this whole thing into a confrontation? Why had he made this a competition about bravery? But she was spared the need to make a decision. As the four young people stood in the dark hallway, caught in indecision, the door they had been staring at suddenly flung open, and a wraith with flowing auburn hair and a blue gown came screaming at them, brandishing a lit candelabrum. Anna screamed and bolted down the stairs, followed by Kathryn and Blake. Cheb hesitated briefly on the landing, but the woman's crazed wails were menacing, and even he finally turned and started down. Above them, the woman stood shrieking epithets in a shrill, high tone that made it hard to distinguish just what she