Dawn Brown - The Devil's Eye

“Sorry,” he muttered, toeing off each boot, “I forgot.”

Mrs. Voyle sniffed, but returned her attention to the meat in the pan, while he dropped his boots onto a rubber mat next to the door in the utility room, then wiped up his mess with a handful of paper towel.

“If you’ve come for your breakfast, you’ll have to wait. It’s not ready yet.” Mrs. Voyle poked at the sausage simmering in a layer of grease. He managed to suppress a shudder.

“That’s all right.” Reece tossed the sopping towels in the rubbish bin. “Is the coffee made?”

She nodded to the machine on the counter. “Help yourself. What are you about coming in so early?”

He shrugged and ambled over to the coffeepot. “I’ve a lot to do today.”

“I suppose you will after all this rain.”

Reece took a mug from the cupboard in front of him, poured the sludgelike liquid and rolled his eyes. The woman couldn’t even make coffee right.

Gripping the steaming cup, he leaned back against the counter and eyed the tight-faced woman. How to get her on the subject of Eleri and the missing men without appearing too eager? He’d have to say something soon. The longer he stayed, the more he’d have to eat.

“Eleri was very specific about wanting the grounds tidied before noon,” he ventured.

The housekeeper snorted and spooned watery eggs into a serving dish. “Eleri will be too busy with Meris’s daughter to be bothered with you today.”

“I didn’t realize Mr. James had another daughter.”

Mrs. Voyle wiped her hands on her grease-dotted apron, and shot him a hard stare. “If Mr. James has any sense left, he’ll toss that one out on her backside. Just like her mother. Hand out, ready to take what she can. Do you know about Meris?”

He shrugged. “A few things.”

“She was a piece of work that one, chasing after Mr. James like a bitch in heat. He was still married, you know? Crazy Enid might have been, but having that red-headed witch throwing herself at her husband certainly hadn’t helped matters. She had her accident only days after Meris told Mr. James she was pregnant.”

Reece had heard talk of Eleri’s mother’s death. It was part and parcel of the ever-growing legend that surrounded Eleri. And like so many of the stories there was more than one version. Some claimed Enid James took her own life when she realized the child she’d produced was evil, while others claimed Eleri managed to convince her mother to kill herself with her nefarious powers. The official report stated that Enid had died due to misadventure, having lost her footing while walking the cliffs.

“Enid knew about the affair?”

“She’d have to have been a simpleton not to. Mr. James was so bewitched by Meris he had her living in the house. That woman knew what she wanted, and exactly how to get it.”

He frowned. There were richer men out there. “All this because Meris had been after Mr. James’s money?”

Mrs. Voyle chuckled and turned back to the stove. A plume of gray smoke wafted from the charred sausage in the pan.

“She wasn’t interested in his money.” The housekeeper turned a knob on the cooker, and the blue flame beneath the pan vanished. “Meris wanted Stonecliff. Claimed she was related to the original family who owned the property.”

“The Jameses didn’t always own Stonecliff?”

Mrs. Voyle scooped out the blackened sausage into another serving dish. “No, Mr. James’s great-uncle built this house nearly a hundred years ago. But before that, the Worthings owned the land. The entire family was killed in a fire. Took the house, too. Have you not come across the ruins during your work?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t. Where are they?”

“Deep in the woods, near The Devil’s Eye.” She set a lid on the tray. “It’s probably for the best. The grounds are haunted.”

Reece snorted before he could stop himself. Mrs. Voyle glared at him over her shoulder.

“People say this place is haunted, too. I haven’t seen any ghosts.” He kept his smirk fixed in place and his tone light, so she wouldn’t know just how serious he was. Years of swindling people had taught him a lot about body language. The more he appeared to consider the whole thing a joke, the harder the housekeeper would try to convince him otherwise.

“Not haunted,” the woman said, holding his gaze. “Cursed. This land is cursed.”

“Because of the people who disappeared?”

She turned back to the stove and covered the sausage platter. “The disappearances are just the tip of the iceberg. How else can you explain Mr. James’s misfortunes? Two dead wives. Failing investments. Oh, things get better for a while, but they always crumble in the end. And now with that Matthew Langley…” She snatched the spatula from the counter and whirled to face him, waving the utensil like a witch waving a wand. “You mark my words, they’ve found one dead man. There’ll be more.”

Did she actually know something about what happened to the men who’d vanished, or was the woman merely relishing in the story? “Why do you stay?”

She jerked a shoulder. “We all have to eat, haven’t we? Mr. James pays more than a fair wage. There’s evil here, granted, but it doesn’t want me. You, though…”

“Afraid I might disappear like the others?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain amused despite the cold prickling the back of his neck. “You shouldn’t worry. I don’t.”

“You wouldn’t—too young and full of yourself. Still, you’re not a bad sort. We’ve certainly had worse working here.”

Like Matthew Langley? Reece had heard stories about his predecessor. And a con man could always recognize another con man. “What do you think happened to the men who disappeared?”

“I think they’re dead.” Mrs. Voyle’s dark eyes held his. “The house takes what it wants. It always has.”

* * *

Brynn stood with Eleri outside the pocket doors separating Arthur’s siting room from his bedroom. Nerves fluttered in her throat and she wiped her damp palms on her pants. What did she have to be so nervous about? He was the one to ignore her for the past twenty-three years. He was the one who owed her an explanation, who should be nervous.

Eleri hesitated before sliding open the door. “He’s not a nice man.”

Knots tangling Brynn’s insides squeezed. She swallowed hard. “Thanks for the warning.”

Eleri pushed open the doors and Brynn entered the dimly lit room. Silence closed in on her, except for the low hiss from the oxygen tank next to the bed. The sour odor of sickness combined with a sterile hospital-like smell sent a sharp pang slicing across her middle. For an instant, she was back in her grandfather’s hospital room, watching helplessly as he wasted away. She swallowed hard and shook the memory away, making a concentrated effort to breathe through her mouth. The doors slid closed with a thunk behind her.

“If you’re coming in, come in.” She jumped at the man’s raspy voice.

Nice to see you, too, Dad.

She let out a slow breath and squared her shoulders, then crossed the room to a chair next to his bed—getting her first look at her father in more than twenty-five years.

He met her gaze with her own dark brown eyes—Eleri’s eyes, too. His thinning white hair was cut short to his head, gaunt features sharp, pointed, much like her sister’s. His sallow skin grooved around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. Propped into a sitting position with pillows, heavy blankets hid his lower body. Long clear tubes coiled from the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth to the tank on the floor. Despite the telltale signs of illness, he sat stiff and regal.

Brynn held her breath, waiting for some spark of recognition.