Evercrossed (16 page)

Twenty six

WHEN IVY ARRIVED BACK AT THE INN, SHE SAW A truck loaded with Luke's motorbike exiting the lot and the older police officer following in his car.

Aunt Cindy was still out, but Ivy knew a guest might have spotted the police car and would ask her what had happened. Retrieving a pen and paper from the kitchen, Ivy carried them out to the swing to write a note of explanation.

She put down the basic facts: She had learned Guy's name was Luke McKenna and he was wanted by the police; when they'd tried to arrest him, he had fled.

The police had questioned her, but she knew nothing about Luke's previous life.

Ivy felt eerily calm as she wrote.

It was as if her heart and mind had shut down before they could fully grasp the horror of Luke's actions. She was signing the note when she heard the cottage's screen door open. Beth stood in the doorway, looking out at Ivy. "How are you doing?"

Beth's voice had its usual sweetness, and the high coloring in her cheeks had disappeared; if Ivy hadn't witnessed the Ouija session earlier in the evening, she wouldn't have guessed it had happened.

"Okay," she replied, figuring that Will had told Beth all the ugly details.

"Do you want to be left alone?"

"No. I'm glad you're here, Beth."

When Ivy showed her the note, Beth rested her hand on Ivy's. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

They were such simple words. Ivy sobbed. The pain was so bad she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Beth laid her hand gently on Ivy's back.

"How could I have been so blind?" Ivy said, choking with tears. "You were right, Beth. You've been right all along. How could I have imagined that Guy was Tristan?"

"I can understand how," Beth replied. "You still miss Tristan. You're still healing. Your heart wanted so much for it to be him, you convinced yourself."

"But you and Will warned me. And I refused to listen. I'm so sorry." Beth remained silent. "Lately I've been thinking to myself, What's wrong with Beth? But I was the one acting strangely. And you, you could see me making the same mistakes I made before, trusting the wrong person." Ivy took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"It was the night of the séance, wasn't it, when we let Gregory come back into our world?" Beth nodded, her light hair tumbling forward, shielding her face.

"Last year," Ivy said, "when Tristan came back, it was easy for him to get inside Will's mind. Will wasn't psychic like you, or a believer like Philip, but Tristan got access because he and Will thought alike. In the same way," she reasoned, "it would be easy for Gregory to get inside a murderer's mind:"

"Especially someone his age like Luke," Beth replied. Ivy shuddered. "When you were consulting the Ouija board, the planchette spelled out Gregory is here."

"I thought if I could contact him—" Beth began.

"And when I went down and opened the door," Ivy continued, "there he was."

"He'll be back," Beth said. "At some point, Luke will come back." She grasped Ivy's hand. "Don't pull away from me, Ivy. Not now. We need to take care of each other. Please don't pull away." Ivy put her arms around Beth. "Never! Not ever again."

IVY LEFT AUNT CINDY'S NOTE IN HER IN BOX. ON HER way back to the cottage she glanced toward the barn. She was still feeling too raw to approach Will and start mending the breach between them.

If there was one thing she had learned in the last few weeks, it was that she did not love Will the way she had loved Tristan—with her whole heart and soul—the way she had begun to love Luke.

She could not erase that knowledge and pretend that she did. When Ivy emerged from the shower, Beth was already in bed. "You okay?" Ivy asked. "Yes, are you?"

"I'm going to be," Ivy replied with determination. "As long as we stay together," Beth said, "everything is going to be okay."

Ivy lay awake for a long time, staring up at the cottage ceiling. Beth fell asleep quickly, and Dhanya and Kelsey arrived home an hour later. Ivy remained still until she was certain that everyone was asleep, then rose and tiptoed down the steps. When she turned on the lamp next to the living room sofa, she was greeted with a soft meow.

"Dusty! You're supposed to be out protecting the garden from voles."

The cat rolled on his back for a tummy rub, then leaped off the sofa and strolled to the door. Letting him out, Ivy glanced down at the screen door's broken latch.

In a place where the doors were usually kept unlocked, there had been no reason to fix it.

For a moment, Ivy considered closing the main door and bolting it, but she retreated to the sofa, leaving it open. Luke was a fugitive from the law and would know better than to show up in a place where others had learned his identity. As for Gregory, bolted doors wouldn't stop him.

Ivy worked on the puzzle, almost finishing it before the urge to sleep caught up with her. She turned off the light. Lying on the sofa, she stared out the screen door to the garden, watching the patterns of moonlight and darkness. Then she rolled over, face to the cushions, and fell asleep.

Sometime later she awoke with a start. Staring at the sofa's striped fabric, Ivy didn't know where she was at first and didn't know what had awakened her. The room was dark, the house still. Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth. Luke, she thought, and tried to pull the hand away, kicking backward with her legs, but the attacker was strong, his physical power obvious in the little effort it took to control her.

"Ivy, shhh! Shhh!" Luke said. She fought hard, moving her head from side to side, trying to bite his hand to make him pull it away. Tristan, help me! Tristan, please! she prayed.

Luke held her spine tightly against his chest but let go of her mouth. Before Ivy could scream, he held in front of her a shiny penny. "Ivy, I remember," he said quietly.

"Remember! Remember what? Killing Corinne?"

He laid the penny in her palm. "The first time we kissed, you were diving for a penny. I saw you lying at the bottom of the swimming pool and I thought you had drowned. I jumped in after you."

For a moment, Ivy couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. He laid his palm on top of hers, then twined his fingers around her hand.

"They call me Luke, but my name ... is Tristan."

Her heart pounded the way it had the night of the accident. She turned in his arms, letting the penny slip to the floor. He traced her face lightly with a finger, his own face alight with wonder as he gazed at her. He kissed her, then rested his face against hers.

She could feel his warm tears running down her cheeks. "Tristan, I thought it was you, but then I stopped believing."

"Don't! If you stop believing, there will be nothing but darkness left for me."

She held him tightly. "I love you, Tristan. I will love you always."

"Always, Ivy," he whispered, as he had that night.

"I can't bear to let you go again," she said, and felt the deep breath he took.

"Ivy, something is wrong. I don't know what happened between the time I said good bye to you as Tristan and the moment I gained consciousness as Guy—as Luke," he corrected himself, "but something terrible is going on. I feel it in the deepest part of me."

"In your soul?" Ivy asked. "What are you, angel or human? Is it like before, when you spoke through Will and Beth?"

"No." He took a half step back from her and held out his hands. "Luke's face is my face now, his hands are my hands—and only mine. I don't know where Luke's spirit is. His mind and soul aren't in this body, and I have no knowledge of his life beyond what others tell me. The bits and pieces I've been gradually remembering are from my life as Tristan."

"Do you remember Gregory?" she asked. "I mean, more than we talked about the other night?"

"I remember how it was to come face to face with him. I remember his gray eyes. Sometimes they were cool and distant; other times, when I caught him off guard, they burned with anger."

"Gregory's back."

"Back?" Tristan repeated. "Ivy, if that's true, you're in danger."

"Earlier tonight, Beth was trying to reach him through a Ouija board. The planchette spelled out Gregory is here. And when I went downstairs—" Ivy stopped, a chill going up her spine.

"You opened the door and saw me. Later you found out that I was accused of murder, and you believed Gregory was in me." Ivy nodded.

"Who else was in the house then?" he asked. She didn't answer. "Ivy, who else?"

She looked over her shoulder, then turned toward the screen door, hearing voices outside. Beams of flashlights swept the garden.

"The police are back," Ivy said, grasping Tristan's arm. "They guessed that you would return. They're looking for you."

Aunt Cindy's voice rose above the others. "This is an inn. I have guests who are sleeping. You cannot come onto private property like this—"

Tristan wrapped his arms around Ivy. "I can't leave you with—"

"They know you only as Luke," she said. "They think you're a murderer. You must go."

"Who else besides Beth was here?" Tristan demanded.

"Come on," Ivy begged, dragging him toward the kitchen door. "Go, Tristan. Please go!"

"You're in too much danger, Ivy."

"You can't help me from jail. Go!" He pulled her face toward him, kissing her one last time, then slipped out the door. Ivy knew that if the police found her downstairs, they would guess that he had been there.

She hurried up the steps. "Angels, protect him. Angels, protect me," she prayed.

Then she looked at the bed across from her own. Beth lay sleeping, her face still and pale, her light brown hair feathered out on the pillow.

Swallowing hard, Ivy admitted to herself what she had been unable to say aloud to Tristan: the only other person in the house when the Ouija board had spelled out its frightening message was Beth—her best friend, the person she loved like a sister.

Ivy had attributed Beth's headaches to the accident, but thinking back, she realized they had started immediately after the stance. A natural medium, Beth had been the easiest person for Tristan to enter when trying to reach Ivy last summer.

Ivy shivered. Perhaps, the night of the séance, Gregory had discovered in her friend's mind the same open portal. Since then, Beth's behavior had grown increasingly strange. Ivy knew what that meant: with each passing moment, Gregory was gaining strength inside Beth.

"Ivy Lyons!" the policed called out, pounding on the cottage door.

Ivy almost laughed out loud. Their law and their guns were useless weapons against a demon who wanted only one thing: to destroy Ivy.

* * * * *

Acknowledgments

THANKS TO MY HUSBAND, BOB, WHO ALWAYS LISTENS and makes me laugh; to my sister, Liz, who explored with me her home turf, beautiful Cape Cod; to Karen, who made me so comfortable at The Village Inn; and to Josh Bank, Lanie Davis, and Emilia Rhodes for all their editorial work.

ALSO BY ELIZABETH CHANDLER

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a
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