The Devil's Eye

“This is what they pay me for.” He hoisted her bags and started down the hall.

“Sorry about that,” Eleri said, once he’d gone. “He’s new.”

“I don’t like someone waiting on me,” Brynn said. “And for the record, I also believe in being nice to waiters and cashiers.”

Having waited tables in college to supplement her student loan, she liked to imagine there was a special corner of hell set aside for people who got their rocks off by being rude to people in the service industry.

Eleri crossed the foyer and pushed open a dark wooden door. “Do you think he might quit?”

“Do you want him to?”

“It’s better for him if he does.”

Brynn followed Eleri into a large living room. Cream-colored walls with pale blue inlay looked rich, especially with a cream brocade Louis XIV settee and chairs. But as she moved farther into the room, she realized it was a facade. Thin cracks spidered across the plaster walls. The fabric on the settee was worn and split. Fluffy white stuffing poked out from the arm of one of the chairs where the material had frayed.

“Sit down. You must be exhausted, and you’re soaked through.” Eleri crossed to the fire in the hearth and lifted the poker. She jabbed the smoldering log until it crumbled, tiny flames lighting along the edges. Orange glow flickered across Eleri’s small features, giving her an almost demonic appearance.

Brynn slowly sank into the chair closest to the door. What in the hell had she gotten herself into? “Reece and the housekeeper didn’t know I was coming.”

“No, they didn’t,” Eleri said, without meeting her gaze.

“Arthur doesn’t know either, does he?”

A faint flush crept into Eleri’s face. Her mouth pulled into a wry smirk. “If I know Iola Voyle, he does now. Our father’s ill. I didn’t want him upset with the anticipation of your arrival. He can be very stubborn.”

Eleri’s admission hit her like a kick to the stomach stealing her breath. “You came looking for me. You said he wanted to make his peace with me before he died.”

“He does. He will,” Eleri said, quickly, setting down the poker.

Brynn stood, and raked her fingers through her damp hair. “I won’t stay where I’m not welcome.”

Though, the idea of hauling her bags out to her car and facing the sea again sent a fresh wave of exhaustion rolling through her. Maybe she could stand on that particular principal starting first thing tomorrow.

“I want you here.” Eleri sat on the chair opposite Brynn. “Our father’s dying. Soon we will be all the family we have left, and we know nothing about each other.”

Brynn’s anger fizzled. She knew what it was to be on her own. Her grandparents were gone, and so was Zack. Never before had she so keenly felt like the orphan she was.

She flopped back into the chair. “He doesn’t want me here.”

On some level she had expected this reaction. After all, her father had always known where she was and never once tried to contact her. Still, as much as Brynn hated to admit it, some small part of her had been hoping for the sitcom father-daughter reunion. Even if her cynical side knew she was in for a much different outcome.

As usual, her cynical side was right.

“When I called you the first time, you were adamant when you said you wouldn’t come here,” Eleri reminded her.

Brynn nodded. Apparently, her first instinct had been the right one.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I found the paperwork granting my grandparents custody.” And her mother’s letters, one for every birthday from the time Brynn turned four until she was eleven. Each letter filled with her mother’s love…and her fears.

“You came here to understand where you came from, who you are, to know something of your family. You mustn’t let him spoil that for you.”

Don’t let the man’s blatant rejection spoil meeting him for the first time? Brynn shot her sister a baleful stare. “Maybe I should stay at a hotel while I’m here.”

“He’ll come around,” Eleri said, quickly.

Brynn wished she were as confident as Eleri sounded. Unease scuttled up her spine. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, or rid herself of the small voice whispering in the back of her brain, What else isn’t your sister telling you?

Chapter Three

Reece’s head thudded like it was about to explode. He set down Brynn’s cases and pressed his fingers to his forehead. His skull pulsed like a cartoon character struck with an anvil. He’d swear that bastard knew exactly what places like the pub did to him and insisted on meeting there on purpose.

He glanced at his watch. Five-forty. Damn, he was late. Maybe if wrapped up what he needed to here and took one of the cars back to the pub, he’d make it before the other man left.

If this headache didn’t knock him on his ass first.

The pills he’d swallowed in the car had taken the edge off, but not much more. He reached into his pocket, curling his fingers around the plastic vial. If he popped another, he’d be down for the night and driving would be out of the question. Lord save him if he missed this meeting.

Bloody Dylis Paskin and her grand ideas, but she’d jump at any excuse to get him out of her place. He’d like to believe his connection to Stonecliff was what made the woman so uncomfortable around him, but he knew better. Like so many others, she sensed something off, something not quite right, and while he’d never given her cause to refuse him at her establishment, she looked for any reason to keep his visits short. Ironically, were it up to him, he’d never darken her door.

He sighed, snatched up Brynn’s cases and continued on to the kitchen.

He’d had everything timed perfectly—until Brynn walked in. He hadn’t even known Arthur James had another daughter. Or had he? Hadn’t he heard something about Eleri and a sister? Of course, the story ended with Eleri having killed the infant. But that’s how all the stories about Eleri ended—in death and murder. With so many, how could he keep track of them all? Or know which to believe?

Obviously, Brynn hadn’t been murdered. She was very much alive and looked well enough to him. He certainly wouldn’t have pegged her for Eleri’s sister. Unlike Eleri’s small, hard features, Brynn’s were softer, prettier. Warm brown eyes and pale red hair falling damp and windblown to her shoulders gave her an earthy sexiness he would’ve had to be dead not to notice.

Did Brynn have any idea of the mess she’d stumbled into? For all he knew, she and her sister were two of a kind. He considered her artless questions, open expression, and somehow didn’t believe it.

Why? Because he liked her face? He of all people should know better. Human beings rarely looked like who they really were. He, for instance, played normal so well no one would guess at the freak he really was.

“You must be mistaken, Iola. Perhaps you heard her name wrong.” Hugh Warlow’s condescending voice drifted from the kitchen. Reece slowed his pace and pressed against the wall. The musty stink from the ancient wallpaper wafted to his nose while he inched nearer to the opening so he could better hear the hushed conversation without being seen.

“He introduced her as Ms. James.” The housekeeper’s whisper gave way to a shrill squeak. “Who else could she be?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Warlow murmured. “Why would Eleri bring her here now? Why would she come?”

“A father at death’s door? I think we can guess, can’t we? Like mother like daughter. She’s come for whatever she can get her hands on, mark my words. The apple wouldn’t have fallen far from the tree with that one.”

Warlow chuckled softly, the sound cool as a November wind. “Then she’ll be disappointed, I’m afraid. And that still doesn’t explain why Eleri would seek her out now.”

“Mr. James is ill. If Eleri isn’t aware there are no provisions for Meris’s girl in his will…” Shrewd implication crept into Mrs. Voyle’s voice. “Perhaps, she plans to finish what she started.”

Unease unfurled inside Reece. What had Eleri started that she might finish now? Based on the stories he’d heard, the possibilities weren’t good.

“She’s gone through a lot of trouble to bring that girl here, I doubt Eleri would do so without knowing who gets what when her father passes. She’s too clever.”

“Crafty, more like it.”