Free Move Heaven and Earth by Christina Dodd Page B

fear.
    “Sing to me.”
    She tried to scream, but dust clogged her throat.
    “Hold my hand.”
    She wanted to strike out, but she couldn’t.
    “Help me.”
    “I can’t!” Heaving herself out of the high bed, Sylvan landed on her knees. She welcomed the pain of impact, the irritation of the carpet’s nap. She looked wildly around, unfamiliar with the surroundings, then sank down until her cheek rested on the rough wool. “I can’t help you. I killed you.”
    The ghouls still danced in her mind, but gradually they retreated, trailing their winding clothes, their hollow cheeks and amputated limbs. They retreated, but they would be back.
    She wiped her eyes, but they were dry, then deliberately she pushed herself upright and leaned against the bed. The polished wood cut into her back, bringing reality into focus, returning Sylvan from the edge of sanity.
    Now she remembered. Rand Malkin. Clairmont Court. The ghost that walked at midnight?
    No wonder she had dreamed.
    Groaning, she sank down and cradled her head in her arms. Would the dead never leave her alone? Would she never sleep peacefully again?
    Scratch. Shuffle .
    She lifted her head and stared at the door.
    What was that ?
    She strained to hear but caught no further sound.
    It must be nothing but the shattered remnants of her nightmare.
    Staggering to her feet, she looked around. Moonlight burned a cold streak across the floor, and she crept to the window, parted the heavy curtains, and peered out.
    Her room overlooked the back of the manor where the ruins of the old castle had been blended with a charming garden. Lumps of ancient stone supportedcreeping vines, and walls that long ago listened to old sorrows now heard nothing but the sigh of the wind. Stark in the moonlight, it seemed as eerie as anything in her imagination.
    Yet nothing moved out there. Everyone, everything, was asleep.
    Loneliness struck at her, scratching the thin coating of control that kept her sane. Was there no one in the world who kept vigil in this night?
    As if in answer, something smacked her door.
    She found herself behind the curtains, shivering, heart thumping, eyes so wide they hurt from the strain. Please, God , she thought. Please, God . But what could she promise Him that she hadn’t promised on all the other lonely nights?
    No other sound followed the first, and she peeked out. Nothing stirred within the room. It was as still as a graveyard.
    La! What had made her draw that comparison?
    Perhaps the echo of Jasper’s shaken voice. Perhaps the memory of Betty’s demeanor when she admitted that she, too, believed that the ghost of the first duke walked the halls this night.
    Gathering courage in hand, Sylvan tiptoed into the room. A candle burned by the bed, but that wasn’t enough. Taking it in her shaking fingers, she began to light every candle in the room, and the Malkin household placed their candles with a generous hand. One by one, the wicks caught flame, chasing the shadows back to the grave from whence they came.
    The room blazed like a ballroom when she finished, and the odor of melting wax smelled like safety. She sank onto one of the chairs and pulled her knees up to her chest.
    One never knew when a phantom might grab at her toes.
    One never knew when a phantom might walk through the wall.
    One never knew if the phantom stood outside, staring through the massive, heavily carved wood door and right at her, huddled in a chair.
    Ugh! Why did she think of things like that? Why now, in a strange place with nowhere to go and no one to run to?
    She didn’t believe in ghosts, she’d told Betty.
    Well, she didn’t. Why should she fear a long-dead someone, when she knew, from cruel experience, it was the men she’d tried to help who so deliberately haunted her?
    Nevertheless, Betty said it best. At night when the wind howls and the moon drifts in and out of the fog, it was easy to forget.
    Only tonight, the wind wasn’t howling. Silence pressed down on Sylvan as if she