Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [15]
It was a cool night, and she pulled on cotton sweats rather than close her windows. She liked the fresh air infusing the house. It swept away the cobwebs and the trace of mildew. Oddly enough it could never rid the house of the smell of fresh tobacco smoke, or the faint note of perfume that lingered, a scent she half recognized from her childhood. It must have been her grandmother’s. Probably Julia Meyer had dropped a bottle and the stuff had penetrated into the woodwork. Jilly rather liked the scent. It made her think her grandmother was watching over her, somehow. Even if Grandmère hadn’t been much more than an adequate guardian in life.
She heard the slam of the door echoing through the vast house. It was odd how certain sounds carried—she always knew when Rachel-Ann came home. She brought a nervous energy with her that spread throughout the place, like the charged air before a thunderstorm.
Jilly held very still, listening vainly for the sounds of voices. Nothing. Rachel-Ann was alone, thank God. Had been alone for the last three months. It was aiding her uncertain temper, but it was a step toward recovery.
A moment later she heard a crash and the sound of running footsteps. By the time Jilly was out in the hall Rachel-Ann was halfway up the stairs, thin and ghostlike, her flame-red hair trailing behind her as she raced up the remaining steps, an expression of pure terror on her pale face.
She went straight into Jilly’s arms with a grateful sob, shivering. She was so slight, so fragile, so small, and Jilly wrapped her strong arms around her, making soothing noises. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” she said. “Did you trip over something? I heard a crash.”
“I don’t know! Something must have broken, but I didn’t see what.” Her voice was soft, panicky, but entirely sober.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jilly said in her calmest voice. There wasn’t much left of value at La Casa to break. “What frightened you?”
Rachel-Ann pulled away, staring at her sister in momentary confusion. Her green eyes were huge, staring, but she didn’t look drugged. Jilly breathed a silent sigh of relief. “I don’t know,” her sister said finally. “They were watching me. I could feel them. They watch me all the time. I know you don’t believe me, but they’re there, I can sense them.”
“Are they?” Jilly had learned from past experience that Rachel-Ann hated to be patronized. “You want to come in and tell me about it?”
“Not in that room,” she said, looking toward the master bedroom with an expression akin to horror. “I don’t know how you can sleep in there, knowing what happened.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Jilly said.
“I do. They were watching me a few minutes ago.” Rachel-Ann’s usually soft voice was high-pitched with strain. She’d lost a lot of weight recently, weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and she looked like a frail, red-haired sparrow, lost and frightened.
“Then we’ll go into your room, and I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep.”
Rachel-Ann’s mouth twisted into a smile that was both bitter and longing. “Always the good sister, Jilly. Don’t you ever get tired of us?”
“Never.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine in my room. They never come in there. I’ve seen to that.”
“Rachel-Ann, there are no ghosts—”
“Humor me for once, Jilly! They’re there. The only way I can make them go away is to drink, and I’m not ready to pay that price. Just let me go to bed and I’ll be fine in the morning. They don’t usually bother me in the daylight.” Rachel-Ann grimaced. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m not crazy. This house is haunted.”
“Did you talk to your therapist about the ghosts?” Jilly asked.
“What, and have him think I’m crazy?” Rachel-Ann’s laugh was only slightly hysterical. “The ghosts are in this house, not in my mind. But don’t worry about it. They leave you alone for some reason. Be grateful.”
“Maybe I just don’t have enough imagination.”
“Maybe you’re just too levelheaded,” Rachel-Ann said wearily. She gave Jilly a quick hug, and the tremor in her slender arms was pathetic. “See