Moonlight Sins (de Vincent 1)

D?spite the fact that she’d wanted to drop kick him th? whole way to the kitch?n, she was interested in th? story he was spinning. “How?”

“When th? first pool was put in—”

“First pool?” sh? cut in.

“We did an upgrade a f?w y?ars back.”

“Of cours?.” Rich peopl?. Sigh.

“Wh?n the first pool was put in . . .” He wait?d for her to say som?thing ?ls?, and she roll?d h?r ?y?s. “. . . they dug up bone fragm?nts. Quit? a few. Enough to make you wonder what th? h?ll was going on her?. Had it sent ov?r to a lab in Baton Roug? and th?y confirm?d th?re w?re human bones. They think there may hav? be?n a family crypt here once that deteriorat?d over th? years. Bones ended up in th? ground or this land was where th?y brought the sick people.”

A shudder coil?d down her spine. Who want?d to know that th?y could be sitting on a possibly disturbed c?m?t?ry or a land wher? plagu?-stricken peopl? wer? l?ft to di? and rot? Uh, no one. “That’s . . . cr??py.”

St?am slowly trickl?d out of the sprout of the k?ttl? as he nodded. “So Grandmother Elis? us?d to say that peopl? living her? mad? th? spirits trapp?d on this land unhappy. You know, sh? was born on this land, in the original part of th? house, just like her mother and her moth?r befor? her. She wanted this house torn down and for the family to mov?.”

“That sounds extr?me.”

“Well, what’s happened h?re is extr?me.” Propping his cheek against his fist, he p?ered up at h?r through thick lash?s. “The house is plagu?d with strang? occurr?nces. Lights flick?r constantly wh?n there’s nothing wrong with th? lighting. Cameras will not work in h?r?.”

Sh? frowned. “How is that possibl??”

H? shrugg?d on? shoulder as he ?y?d her. “Who knows? You can take pictures in h?r?, but live vid?o? Like s?curity cam?ras? Just won’t work. Som? kind of int?rf?renc?.” His lips pursed. “Someone once said ther? are lay lin?s here. Whatever the h?ll that is, but ther? are also strange noises. Knocks on the wall. Conv?rsations coming from rooms long ago closed up. Screams. Laught?r when no one else is around. Shadows.”

Was h? suggesting that what she saw in th? bathroom was a ghost? “And footst?ps?” she asked. Sh? r?ally didn’t b?liev? in any of this nons?nse, but a tiny wave of goos? bumps rose on h?r bar? arms.

“And footst?ps.” He r?ach?d across th? island and tapp?d his forefinger off th? top of h?r hand. “You heard them tonight. And no one was in that room.”

“So you’r? saying I h?ard a ghost and a ghost open?d those doors?” Doubt dripp?d from h?r ton? as sh? ignor?d the way h?r heart jumped in her chest at the touch of his fing?r on her hand.

“I’m not saying that, but you t?ll me what you heard.”

She couldn’t answer that, becaus? she had no idea. But that didn’t mean the source of the footsteps or the open doors was supernatural. “What does any of that have to do with the women?”

“So, obviously anyone who lives on this land will also be cursed.” He pushed away from the island.

“Obviously,” she replied dryly.

One side of his lips curled up as he walked over to the cupboard again. Her gaze dipped. Man, he had a really great behind. “The tainted land taints the people who live here.”

She shook her head at the ridiculousness of what he was saying as she watched him grab two large mugs. “I think your family has done pretty well for living on tainted ground.”

Carrying two mugs back to the island, he grinned. “It looks that way, and I’m not going to lie. Our family has lived great lives. For the most part.” He headed around the island and as he passed behind her, he picked up a strand of her hair, tossing it over her shoulder. “Did you know the original house has burnt down three times since it was built?”

Sounded like some really crappy construction if that was the case. Julia tucked the hair he flipped over her shoulder behind her ear. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yep. The first fire burnt the house down to the studs. Killed a great-great-great-whatever aunt and her daughter. The second fire back in the early 1900s took out the top floor and killed Emma de Vincent, who had just given birth to Elise.” He grabbed a carton of milk out of the fridge and a small canister off the counter of what she guessed was sugar. “The third happened in the fifties. Burnt the house down again. This time it took out both of my aunts.”

“Wow. That’s tragic.”

He placed the milk and sugar on the island, next to the cups. She’d never had milk in her chamomile and had no idea how that was going to taste.

“Maybe you guys should have someone check out the flickering lights again,” she suggested, praying the house didn’t burn down again while she was in it.

“There’s nothing wrong with the wiring.” Walking over to the stove top, he picked up the insulated handle and brought the steaming pot over. Two bags of tea went into the mugs. “Did you notice anything odd about those who died in the fire?”

She did. “They were all female.”

He nodded as he poured the hot water into the mugs. “Our grandmother died here, just outside the house. She was in the rose garden and a storm was coming in. They can be fast and brutal down here,” he explained, setting the kettle aside. “Lightning struck a nearby tree and it fell on her, killing her instantly.”

“Jesus,” she whispered, eyes wide.

“Our grandfather cut down all the trees out back after that, as if it were their fault.” He poured a little of milk into each mug. “His sister, our great aunt, passed away just down the road. The brakes in the car she was being driven in suddenly failed. She was killed instantly. The driver didn’t even have a scratch. Great-great-grandmother Elise? She made it all the way ninety-eight and then died in a fall down the second-floor stairs.”

“Oh, wow . . . that’s . . . I don’t even know what to say.” She shook her head as he dumped spoonfuls of sugar in each cup.

“And I’m not done yet.” He walked over near the sink and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a spoon. “Several female cousins have died in bizarre ways. One actually accidentally ran herself over. Not sure how that happened, but it did, and our mother?”

Julia tensed as he came back to the island.

Lucian sat down on the stool beside her, his body angled so it faced her. “Our mother pitched herself off the roof of this house when I was eighteen.”

“My God, I’m sorry.” Her hands dropped into her lap as she glanced over at him. He was reaching for the two mugs. She’d known that their mother had committed suicide, but not the how. Not like the method made a difference. Any method was tragic and heartbreaking.

He didn’t seem to hear her as he slid one of the mugs to her. “Then there were those who didn’t die. The cousins who didn’t pass away untimely have had . . . issues. Some drastic enough that other family members had them committed into hospitals and asylums.”

“What?” She stared at him.

“That was a long time ago.” His gaze flickered to hers, and the air caught in her throat. His eyes . . . they were such a beautiful shade. Now that he was under the overhead lights, they were back to that sea-green that reminded her of warm waters she’d never visited. He tapped the mug. “Try it.”

Dragging her gaze from his, she picked up the warm cup. It smelled amazing as she lifted it. Taking a small sip, she was surprised at the sweet, smoky taste.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Nodding, she swallowed. “It’s really good.”

His grin returned.

“So . . . do you think this curse has something to do with your sister?” she asked.

His gaze flickered away. “It would appear so.”

Curious even though she knew she shouldn’t be, she asked, “And you guys have no idea where she could’ve been this entire time?”

Lucian shook his head as he picked up his mug. He leaned back a little as he moved one leg in. His knee grazed her thigh, sending a rush of shivers over her she did her best to ignore. “You know she vanished the same night our mother died. We first thought she’d run off because she was upset, but when she didn’t come back . . .”