Amanda Stevens - The Kingdom

Hugging my arms to my body, I let the deep silence settle over me. We were sheltered by woods and the looming mountains in the distance, but there were no bird calls from the trees, no scampering feet in the underbrush. I heard no sound at all except for the faint whisper of a breeze through the leaves.

I turned back to Luna. She stood watching me with the oddest expression, her thumb caressing the moonstone cabochon she wore at her throat. She looked…bemused, as though she couldn’t quite figure me out.

“Well?” She folded her arms and leaned a shoulder against a newel post. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s so quiet.”

She smiled dreamily, lifting her face to the sky. “That’s what I love about it.”

Her voice held a husky timbre I hadn’t noticed before, and she looked very different to me now. No, not different, I amended. She looked… more. Her figure appeared fuller, her skin creamier, her hair so darkly lush I had to wonder if she’d donned a wig in the car. Everything about her—the sparkle of her eyes, the enigmatic curve of her lips, that earthy sensuality—seemed heightened by the natural setting.

For some reason, I was reminded of that photograph in her office and the furious visage lurking in the background. And then I heard, very faintly, the wind in the trees again as I glanced up at the house.

“Was this place once a church?”

She cocked her head in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“The architecture—carpenter Gothic, isn’t it?—was commonly used for small churches in the nineteenth century.” I couldn’t help but wonder about the selection for my temporary quarters. The hallowed ground of churches and some cemeteries offered protection from ghosts. But how would Luna Kemper know about that?

“What happened to it?” I asked.

Those gray eyes gave me a curious appraisal. “Nothing sinister. The congregation dwindled until it became more feasible to attend one of the larger churches in Woodberry. The place stood empty for a number of years, and then Floyd Covey bought it and gave it a complete renovation. All the modern amenities. You should be quite…cozy here.”

I noted the slight hesitation as I nodded and followed her into the house, pausing just over the threshold to allow the peace of a hallowed place to envelop me. I would be cozy here, but more important, I would be safe from ghosts. Which once again begged the question as to why Luna Kemper had picked this particular house for me.

“You mentioned something on the phone about an anonymous donation,” I said as I watched her move gracefully about the room. She seemed to bask in the late-afternoon sunshine pouring through the pointed arched windows. She reminded me of the gray tabby in her office—sleek, exotic and a bit superior. “I was just wondering how involved this person was in making the arrangements. I’m not the only cemetery restorer in the state. Was the decision to hire me yours or the donor’s?”

She smiled. “Does any of this really matter?”

“I suppose not. But I am curious how it all came about.”

“There’s no big mystery. It really is as simple as I explained it,” she said.

“And this house…was that your idea, as well?”

“I’m the only real estate agent in Asher Falls. Who would know the available property better than I? But if you’re dissatisfied with the accommodations—”

“No, it’s not that. This place is perfect, actually.”

Her smile seemed knowing. “Then let me show you the rest.”

Once again, I obligingly followed her lead. The bedrooms and bath were located on one side of the house, the living room and large eat-in kitchen on the other. A screened porch had been added to the back, and already I looked forward to having my morning tea out there watching the sunrise.

We walked single file down a flagstone trail to the water and strolled along a private dock. As the sun dipped below the treetops, I felt a familiar bristle of apprehension, that eerie harbinger along my backbone that preceded every twilight. The veil was lifting. Soon, the ghosts would come through.

A boat bobbed in the gentle waves at the end of the pier, but I saw no other movement. Heard nothing at all. In that in-between moment of light and dark, the night creatures hadn’t yet stirred.

The air turned chilly, and I was glad for my jacket as I stood contemplating the water. I saw something float to the surface and thought it might be an apparition before realizing in relief it was my own reflection.

I turned to say something to Luna, then stilled as I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye. A scrawny brown mutt—part German shepherd—stood at the end of the wooden dock gazing down at us. The dog was so emaciated, the outline of his ribs was clearly visible beneath the coarse fur. But what disturbed me even more was the wretched creature’s deformity. His ears were missing, and his snout and mouth were horribly scarred from some trauma.

“What happened to that poor dog’s face?” I kept my voice soft so as not to spook the animal, but he started when Luna whirled.

She scowled in distaste. “Looks like a bait dog.”

“A what?”

“Do you know anything about dog fighting?”

My stomach turned over. “I know it’s illegal. And it sickens me.”

She nodded absently. “Bait dogs often have their ears cut off to avoid unnecessary injuries, and their jaws are wired shut so they can’t bite the fight dogs. When the owners have no more use for them, they turn them loose.”

A wave of rage washed over me. “How could anyone be that cruel?”

“This isn’t Charleston,” she warned. “You’re apt to see a lot of things around here you don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” I asked in disgust. “Someone has abused this dog and we need to get him to a vet.”

“A vet? There isn’t one for miles. Best just to leave him be. He’ll go back into the woods eventually.”

“But he needs help.” When I would have started toward him, Luna caught my arm.

“I wouldn’t do that. He could be rabid for all you know.”

“He doesn’t look rabid, he looks hungry.”

“For God’s sake, don’t feed the creature!”

Her vehemence startled me, and I glanced at her as a rush of fresh anger warmed my cheeks.

Before I could stop her, she clapped loudly, scaring the poor dog. “Get out of here! Go on, get!”

“Don’t do that!”

Now it was I who caught her arm, and she spun, eyes blazing. We faced off, the malicious curl of her lips chilling me to the bone. I almost took a step back from her, but I caught myself. Our gazes clashed for the longest moment, then her expression softened so rapidly I thought I might have imagined the whole troubling confrontation.

“Strays are common around here, I’m afraid.” She gave a regretful shrug. “You can’t feed them all, nor can you allow yourself to get overly sentimental. But I expect you’ll have to learn the hard way.”

I didn’t care to argue, so I let the matter drop. The dog had already retreated to the edge of the woods where he watched warily from the shadows. He observed us for a moment longer before slinking back into the trees.

Luna glanced at her watch. “I should be getting back to town. I have a meeting tonight.”

We walked around the house to the driveway.

“If you need anything, you have my number.” She opened her car door, anxious to be on her way. “Tilithia Pattershaw is your nearest neighbor. Everyone calls her Tilly. She’s been keeping an eye on the place while Floyd is away. I asked her to come by yesterday to clean the house, and she left some food in the refrigerator. She’s just down that path.” She waved toward the woods. “She may drop by now and again to check up on you. Don’t be alarmed. She’s a little peculiar, but she means well.”