Sundown

No! Mark’s voice is in my mind. Why would it be?

Don’t you know what goes on here?

Tanya’s arms drift up and down at her sides like she’s a bird. I think o

f an angel rising on enormous wings. Only, she’s not rising higher. She’s hovering in the space above the candles staring down at me, waiting. She’s waiting for justice, waiting for revenge. Waiting to be set free.

“Thank you, spirits.” Fragonard’s loud voice breaks my vision, and I blink several times. “You may go in peace.”

I’m staring at the candles, but my eyes are clouded and burning. I didn’t blink enough. I tried to look at them without blinking. That’s all.

The sandalwood is too strong.

I blink several more times to clear the stinging mist from my eyes.

Looking across the table, I meet deep blue ones studying me with concern. My eyes dart around the room, and I see Molly’s attention remains on the baron. The baron is bored and sucking on his cigar again. It makes me think of a fat, pink baby.

My hands are in my lap, and I look down at them clasped tightly. Pain creeps up the sides of my stomach, making me feel panicky. Fragonard stands and takes the turban off his head.

“I’m sorry.” He makes a sad face. “The blizzard must be interfering with my abilities tonight.”

“It went exactly as I expected,” the baron interrupts. I’ve noticed he never misses a chance to throw a barb at the Frenchman. “What about you, Fitz? I’m sure you’ve had reason to consult psychics in your line of work, while investigating cases?”

“Not me.” Mark’s voice is a soothing balm to my twisting insides. “I’ve never been attracted to such things.”

“Is that so?” Fragonard flips the light switch at the door and returns to clean up the table. “So many unbelievers, no wonder nothing happened. I do apologize, Miss Hale. I had hoped to give you a sense of home.”

“No,” I stammer, thinking how close to home we got. “It was fine. I appreciate your efforts, and I did find the experience interesting.”

Going to the door, I pause and look back. “Molly, it’s after midnight.”

“Is there a curfew?” The baron looks from me to Mark.

“Technically not in this part of the world,” he answers.

“I’ll only be a little while longer.” Molly looks up at me. “Daddy is going to show me how the anaconda squeezes its prey to death in the Amazon.”

Esterhaus emits a congested chuckle.

“Don’t stay up too late.” I say it, but I know she won’t return to her room until early in the morning, if at all. We have separate staterooms, so whatever she does, I won’t know the timing.

“May I escort you to your room?” I’m at the door when Mark stops me. The vision is still heavy in my thoughts, but his voice is electric, a soothing hum across my skin.

“You’re not going to bed so early.” Fragonard crosses the space to meet us at the door. “Let us discuss our heritage. It’s possible we have a connection…”

“I’m afraid I’m too tired to stay up any longer.” I smile and shake my head.

Fitz takes a step back, but I lift my chin. “If you would walk me to my car, I’m sure I’d feel safer.”

It’s a lie. The way he looks at me couldn’t be more dangerous.

“With pleasure.” He puts my hand in the crook of his rock-hard bicep, and I relish his strength in my unexpected weakness.

The hall is too narrow for us to walk side by side. He takes the lead, and I follow, my slim hand clutched in his larger one. His blazer is tossed over his arm, and my eyes go to his ass filling out those slacks perfectly.

I think of the old joke about bouncing a quarter off a tight end like that. I could bounce a quarter off his entire body.

We walk from Fragonard and the baron’s rooms in the last car, through the middle car, where Molly’s and mine are located. Still, we keep going past my door, all the way to the dining car and bar.