The Sinner Read online

  “Have you ever heard of such a traveler?” I asked.

  I could have sworn I saw something dark flash in his eyes before he glanced down at his Scotch. “Astral projection has been practiced for aeons,” he said. “Although there are some who would argue the experiences are nothing more than lucid dreams.”

  “Have you ever experienced it for yourself?” I asked.

  “No. For all my otherworldly interests, I seem to be stubbornly earthbound,” he said with no small amount of irony. Absently he toyed with the pinkie ring he wore on his right hand, the snake and claw symbol identical to the one on Devlin’s medallion. “But I would suggest that you yourself are a traveler. Perhaps not in the sense that one normally thinks of astral projection, but when a ghost passes through you, do you not leave your body to help it cross over, even if only for the blink of an eye?”

  “I don’t like to think so,” I said. “I don’t like to think about ghosts passing through me at all. What if one decides not to leave?”

  “Like the ghost in the pit that you spoke of?”

  I shuddered. “Yes, exactly like that one. I’ve encountered some very evil spirits, Dr. Shaw, but the ghost of Mary Willoughby was a special kind of malevolency, perhaps because of what she let happen to her own daughter.”

  “You’re right to fear the dark ones,” he said. “Not only because they might try to possess you, but also because they could conceivably drag you with them through the veil.”

  I had felt that very tug to the other side, so his concern wasn’t without merit.

  “In mythology, there’s a designated place for the darkest of souls,” he said. “A place beyond hell if one is a believer. The Greeks called it Tartarus, a pit of torture and despair as far below Hades as earth is to heaven. I knew a young man once, a traveler who claimed to have looked into such an abyss. He was so shaken by the sight that he tried for years to convince himself what he experienced was nothing more than a nightmare. I don’t think he ever traveled again—at least not consciously. He had a fear of being trapped in such a place.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “According to some, if the astral cord snaps or is cut, the traveler could become lost for all eternity. The physical body would eventually wither and die unless something else took possession of it.”

  “Something else?”

  “A ghost, a lost soul...or worse.”

  I shuddered as I stared down into my glass.

  The discussion had taken a disturbing turn, even for us. I was glad when our dinners were served and the conversation trickled to a halt as we luxuriated in the Lowcountry delicacies. We ate in silence until both of us pushed back our plates with satisfied sighs.

  “That was wonderful,” I said. “I haven’t had a meal like that in ages.”

  “You look a little peeked to my eye,” Dr. Shaw said with a frown. “Have you been working too hard on top of everything else that’s occupying your time?”

  “No harder than usual. I like to keep busy. What about you? I’ve dominated the conversation all evening and I got the distinct impression from your email that you also have news.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have turned up something of interest.” He glanced around uneasily at the well-heeled clientele. “This may not be the best place to discuss it, though.”

  I took a look around, too, noting the proximity of the other patrons. “Let’s take a walk,” I said.

  We sorted the check and then headed out into the evening, retracing my steps on East Bay. We crossed the street and walked along the Battery until we found a private spot where we could look out on the harbor as we chatted. We weren’t far from the place where Devlin had first appeared to me out of the mist, and I wondered why, after all this time, he was still so much on my mind. Why couldn’t I forget him and move on?

  “You’re very quiet all of a sudden. Are you all right?” Dr. Shaw asked solicitously.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just happy to be back in Charleston for the evening. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

  “The holy city. There’s no place like it.” He watched the lights in the harbor. “When will you be finished with your current restoration?”

  “I’ll be there for a few more weeks at least.” I turned, peeling a strand of hair from my face that had blown loose from my ponytail. “What have you found out, Dr. Shaw?”

  He glanced around at our surroundings to make certain we couldn’t be overheard. “Since we last spoke, I’ve put together a list of people I believe may be affiliated with the Congé, culled from those families rumored to have had an association with the Order of the Coffin and the Claw going back all the way to the city’s founding fathers. Names you’ll find on the oldest gravestones in our oldest churchyards. As you can imagine, the project has been quite an undertaking, but I haven’t been alone in my endeavor. I’ve had a great deal of input from my contacts, people who know far more about these clandestine organizations than you or I could ever hope to learn. They risk a lot by even speaking with me so it’s important that we keep this information to ourselves.”

  “I understand, but how do your contacts even know about the Congé if they have so much power and they guard their identities so assiduously?”

  “Secrets always have a way of coming out,” he said. “I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it would be for all concerned if the existence of such a list were ever made public. Having said that, there is a name that keeps turning up, one I think you’ll find most enlightening.”

  I leaned in, searching his face in the glow of the security lights. “Is it Kendrick?” I asked on a breath.

  He said in surprise, “The police detective you’ve been working with? No, not Kendrick, my dear. Devlin.”

  The name shocked me into silence, though I wasn’t sure why it should catch me so off guard. Hadn’t that notion been swirling around in my subconscious ever since I’d first heard of the group from Darius Goodwine? My suspicion had flitted to the surface again after my conversation with Temple, but I hadn’t allowed it to foment into anything stronger than vague doubt.

  I said shakily, “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as one can be. It fits with the reason he gave you for distancing himself, does it not? He said it would be dangerous for you to be with him because his grandfather had gotten mixed up with some very dangerous people. John must have found out about the Congé during the old man’s illness last year. He would have quickly concluded that his continued association with you could call attention to your gift and abilities, thus putting your life in imminent danger.”

  “But he wouldn’t have known about my gift then. We never addressed it directly or even indirectly until at the very end when he’d already made his decision.”

  “Oh, I’m quite certain he knew.” Dr. Shaw leaned an arm on the railing as he studied me. “I once told you that John has the kind of sensitivity I’ve rarely come across, so at the very least he must have strongly suspected. Didn’t you say the two of you had experienced a supernatural encounter together?”

  My mind raced back to our time in Kroll Cemetery to the sighting of the malcontent in my bedroom and the ghost of my great-grandmother in the window of a burning house. Devlin had denied it all, but Dr. Shaw was right. He knew.

  Even so, I still found his name on that list hard to accept. “Wouldn’t his sensitivity to the supernatural pit him against the Congé?”

  “It’s my contention that many of the members are sensitive to some degree or another. Originally, they used their powers to track and combat the evil they feared had infiltrated Charleston. Those were dark times and they considered themselves the spiritual guardians of the city. Aristocratic sentinels with a noble purpose, but over time their arrogance and fanaticism corrupted the mission.”

  My mind reeled from Dr. Shaw’s stunning revelatio
n and perhaps from the lingering buzz of the wine. I stared down at the spot where the Ashley and Cooper rivers merged in the harbor. The churning waters seemed to mirror my internal agitation. “You said membership is legacy. A recruit is only brought in when an old member dies. Devlin’s grandfather is still very much alive.”

  “Yes, I did say that, but possibly exceptions are made when a member becomes infirm and unable to carry out his duties. Perhaps John is being groomed for the inevitable. A man of his talents would be an invaluable asset to such a faction.”

  “His talents?”

  Dr. Shaw turned back to the water. “I’m speaking about his experiences in law enforcement, of course.”

  But I didn’t think that was what he meant, far from it. For all our confessions and revelations, I had a feeling Dr. Shaw still kept things from me, especially where Devlin was concerned.

  I gripped the railing as my thoughts continued to whirl. “I’m sorry, Dr. Shaw, but after everything you’ve told me about the Congé, I have a hard time believing this. They’re as ruthless and deadly in their mission as the Brotherhood is in their black pursuits. That’s what you said. How can you expect me to think that John would be involved with such a group? I can’t accept it. I won’t accept it until I hear it from him.”

  Dr. Shaw turned in consternation. “You must consider the consequences before you do anything so rash as to confront him. A provocation of any kind is a very bad idea for many reasons.”

  “What reasons? What are you still keeping from me?”

  He couldn’t meet my eyes. “There hasn’t been an announcement yet, but I hear through the grapevine that the formalities are forthcoming any day now. My dear...” He placed his hand on my arm. “John is engaged.”

  Thirty-One

  I walked Dr. Shaw back to Waterfront Park where he’d left his car and then I headed up Tradd Street. As I hurried along the darkened sidewalk, my head spun, but not from the wine. I felt stone-cold somber now. Outwardly, I remained steady. Maybe there had been so many revelations over the course of the evening and I’d had so many experiences and encounters during my time in Ascension I was now immune to shock. Or, I suspected, my composure was merely a defense mechanism. When I finally allowed my emotions to surface, I wasn’t sure which disclosure would distress me more—Devlin’s engagement or his possible affiliation with the Congé.

  A breeze rippled through the trees, carrying the scent of butterfly ginger over a walled garden. I could glimpse the dark shapes of trimmed evergreens behind wrought-iron gates and the ethereal gleam of marble faces in dappled moonlight. The evening was balmy and fragrant, the city as alive and lovely as it had ever been, but I couldn’t wait to leave it now. I couldn’t disassociate Charleston from Devlin and tonight I needed to be free of both.

  I was so lost in thought that the sudden glare of headlights startled me. I reacted reflexively, stepping back into the shadows as a car pulled to the curb across the street. The vehicle was sleek and black and sexy, and for a moment, as I admired the low profile, I was pulled right back into Devlin’s world. Even the silhouette of the driver reminded me of Devlin. It wasn’t him, of course. It couldn’t be him. The possibility was too slim and the irony too cruel.

  As I stood in the shadows observing from a distance, the driver climbed out of the vehicle and turned to glance down the street as another car appeared behind him. Caught in the headlights, he squinted into the brilliance and my heart started to beat in hard, painful strokes as my gaze glided over familiar features. He was dressed in dark slacks and a dark shirt exquisitely tailored to his tall form. He wore his hair longer than when I’d last seen him, and in the glare of the headlights, I could detect the hint of a beard on his lower face, but I knew him just the same. I would always know that face because I still dreamed about it nearly every night.

  He watched the car until it was out of sight and then he turned and strode down the sidewalk to one of the largest houses on the block. He took out a key, unlocked the gate and then glanced over his shoulder as if to make certain he hadn’t been followed. For a moment, I thought he might see me huddled there in the shadows. That he must surely hear the sound of my pounding heart. But he did not. He turned back to the gate and disappeared inside, leaving me alone, puzzled and trembling.

  I left the shadows and crossed the street to peer through the intricate wrought iron as a feeling of déjà vu tingled over me. I had been there before in a dream. To that very gate. Or had my spiritual self left my body and traveled back to Charleston to find Devlin? Had I encountered him on another plane where he had warned me of danger?

  I glanced down the narrow alley, past a lush courtyard to a dimly lit carriage house nearly smothered by bowers of crape myrtle and lemon trees. I tried the gate, but it had locked behind Devlin.

  “Use the key,” I could almost hear him whisper.

  But I wasn’t that brave. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what business he had behind that locked gate. Still, I stood there vacillating until the dazzle of headlights chased me into the shadows of a recessed doorway.

  A car even sleeker than Devlin’s pulled in behind his. A woman got out, and though I had never seen her before, I somehow knew her. Knew that her name was Claire.

  She was dressed all in black, her slacks and top as elegantly molded to her body as Devlin’s attire had been to his. Her hair was long and straight and glimmered silvery gold in the moonlight. She was very beautiful. Quite possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on and it took no effort at all to picture her with Devlin.

  She walked to the gate and paused to glance over her shoulder just as he had done, but she was more careful than he. She scanned both sides of the street and then turned to peer into the very doorway where I lurked. I drew back holding my breath. When I chanced another glance, her gaze had moved on, but I had a feeling she knew I was there. The way she looked in the moonlight...the half smile that played at her lips. For a moment she reminded me of Annalee Nash. Physically, they looked nothing alike, but there was something about her demeanor. Something about that smile.

  She had secrets, I thought with a shiver. Dark secrets buried deep.

  She waited another beat and then unlocking the gate, she, too, disappeared inside. I remained hidden in the doorway for several long minutes because I didn’t want to risk an encounter with her. Another car pulled up and deposited two older gentlemen at the gate. I didn’t recognize either of them, but I imagined that I would find their names on the oldest headstones in the city’s oldest churchyards.

  Once they were safely ensconced behind the wrought iron, I left my hiding place, but I didn’t return to the gate. The night had suddenly become far too dangerous and I would be foolish to linger so near to what I assumed was a congregation of the deadly Congé.

  Thirty-Two

  A short while later, Angus and I were back on the road. I had originally intended to spend the night in the city and head out early for Ascension. But plans changed. Things happened. Old loves got engaged and suddenly became mortal enemies. I couldn’t remain in Charleston a moment longer. It wasn’t safe for me there.

  I drove with the windows down and the smell of pluff mud permeated the night air, that singular, sulfuric perfume of the Lowcountry. We had left the secrets and intrigue of Charleston far behind us and were now heading back into the pungent world of tidal flats and root working. Of salt marshes, folk magic and, as I had recently discovered, the darker rituals of witchcraft and black magic.

  I almost expected Kendrick to be waiting for me when I pulled into the drive. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for company and I was still a little wary of him, of us, after the incident on the front porch. But I would have gladly accepted his offer to check the grounds while I made sure the house was secure. He wasn’t there, though, and I had no intention of calling him. I didn’t need Kendrick or Devlin or anyone else to
keep me safe. I had been on my own for a very long time. I knew how to take care of myself. Even so, I couldn’t suppress a shiver of apprehension as I unlocked the front door and reached for the light switch.

  Angus padded beside me as we began our nightly ritual at the back of the house and slowly worked our way up to the front bedroom where he balked at the threshold and whimpered. I went in alone to search the closet and corners and underneath the bed. Nothing appeared out of place. Everything was just as I’d left it a few hours ago, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. Something was horribly wrong inside that room.

  I thought about the hollow sound of the mewling I’d heard from the bedroom and wondered if there might be a tunnel or passageway underneath the house that ran all the way back to the shed. Maybe that would explain how the kitten had ended up at the bottom of that concrete cylinder when the outbuilding had appeared untouched.

  Then I thought about the entity that had been trapped beneath my great-grandmother’s house near Kroll Cemetery and I hurried from the room, closing the door firmly behind me.

  I retreated to the smaller back bedroom to change out of the dress and sandals I’d worn to dinner. I was too keyed up for bed and I felt a little too vulnerable to go outside and search the grounds in my nightgown so I put on the fresh work clothes I’d laid out earlier. Transferring keys, phone and pepper spray to the pocket of my cargoes, I went into the kitchen to put on the teakettle. While the water heated, I walked Angus outside.

  I stood at the bottom of the steps shining the flashlight over the yard and as far into the orchard as the beam would reach. Closing my eyes, I focused on the night sounds, trying to project my senses out into the trees where someone might lurk.

  The shrill whistle of the kettle startled me back to the porch steps and I hurried inside to turn off the burner. As the sound subsided, I glanced over my shoulder. I felt on edge for no discernible reason. I’d checked the house and all around the backyard. Angus was still outside. If anything or anyone were about, he would let me know. But the outside no longer concerned me. I felt a sense of wrongness inside the house that no amount of logic could dispel.