Bound by Time (5 page)

“That would be lovely. Order whatever you want, sweetie.” Elizabeth didn’t bother to look up and absent-mindedly grabbed a fifty out of her purse and gave it to her.

Isobel wandered into the kitchen and looked through the menus hanging on the board trying to decide what to order for dinner. She settled on Chinese and called it in. While she waited for it to arrive, she dashed up to her room to grab her laptop and her phone. Her skin tightened as she ran past the window though she tried not to give it too much thought. The more one acknowledged spirits, the more power they had. Still, she didn’t linger upstairs. She didn’t want to miss the food delivery or at least that’s what she told herself.

Settling down on the sofa in the living room, Isobel opened the laptop. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she pondered how to spell
Eusebia
. Google came to her rescue by making suggestions. She scrolled through the possibilities. There was a Catholic saint by that name, a Roman empress, a goddess. She snapped the laptop shut in irritation. None of that sounded right to her. Maybe despite Google’s help, she still hadn’t gotten it right.

The doorbell rang announcing the arrival of food. Isobel set the laptop on the coffee table. It probably wasn’t a real word. Just something her mind made up while ruled by its subconscious. After collecting the food, she hollered down the hallway letting her mom know it was there.

Elizabeth entered the kitchen with a smile on her face. “I got everything sorted and packed.”

“When is Dad getting home?”

Her mom frowned. “Not until late I’m afraid. It’s just us girls for the evening.” She brightened. “How about we take this to the family room and watch a movie?”

“Sounds great to me.” It had been forever since they had a girl’s night. They carried the containers and chopsticks to the large family room. Elizabeth set out the food on the coffee table while Isobel loaded one of their favorite movies in. Snuggling up together on the couch, they settled in for a relaxing evening.

I
sobel woke slow and groggy on the couch in the family room, though she didn’t remember falling asleep. One of her mom’s quilts was bunched around her. She ran a finger over the pattern, sensing Elizabeth’s love in the gesture of the quilt.

Her parents’ voices drifted into the family room as Isobel swung her legs over the edge of the couch and crawled out of the warm, comfortable nest. At least she hadn’t had any weird dreams last night. In fact, Isobel didn’t remember any dreams.

She climbed the stairs, expecting to feel the dread that going upstairs always seemed to bring now. It didn’t come. When she reached the landing, Isobel purposely looked at the window, hesitant and irritated at the same time. It sat silent and beautiful, the ambient light from the morning highlighting its colors. Except for the crimson circle in the middle. It felt like an eye watching her. Waiting. Isobel crossed the landing to her room, feeling like a mouse under the eye of a dark and dangerous predator. The window silently watched her pass.

She took a quick shower, and attended to her morning routine. A light application of makeup, enough to highlight the green of her eyes and her thick lashes, was all she needed. She let her mahogany hair hang loose.

Her parents were leaving on a flight that afternoon. Other than driving them to the airport, she didn’t have any plans. Casual was definitely the order of the day. A pair of knit shorts and a T-shirt would be good enough.

Isobel glanced toward the bedroom door as she finished dressing. It was open. The light from the window filled the wide landing right outside her door with muted color. Lifting her chin, she left her room and walked at a normal pace past it. Screw the window. The crimson eye glared at her; Isobel pretended to ignore it. God, she was going crazy.

In the process of helping her parents pack everything in her car, she managed to put the window out of her mind. The drive through the traffic to the airport was hectic as usual. It didn’t help that her parents kept asking if she would be okay alone. She was tempted to vent her frustration about the window and tell them that it was haunted, but she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Isobel wouldn’t dream of ruining the opportunity Dubai presented for her father. Nor would she ruin the joy the window gave her mother. If it wasn’t for Elizabeth and her unwavering love and support, she knew she wouldn’t be the person she was today. She had been her rock during her early, tumultuous teenage years. It was the least she could do.

The closer they got to the airport, the less comfortable they became with her being alone in the house until Isobel finally looked at them and said, “Mom, Dad, I’ll be nineteen in a week. There are girls my age who are married and have babies. If they can handle that, I think I can handle one summer alone.”

Amelia was right; parents had trouble admitting when their kids were adults.

Her dad ran a hand over his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gave her a stern look and said with a mocking tone, “But no parties. I don’t care how old you are.”

Isobel smiled. “I promise if I throw a party, I’ll make sure all of the books help me clean up before they leave.”

Elizabeth sighed. “While I agree with your father about no parties, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t socialize more. You should try to make some new friends.”

Like the guy next door with the devastating eyes? Isobel shook her head to rid herself of the thought. “I like my books. Besides, I have Amelia for a friend. And Sorsha will be with me.”

“Isa,” her dad said, “Amelia is over six hundred miles away. And Sorsha’s a cat; she doesn’t count.”

Isobel shot him an offended look. “Sorsha counts.”

“You know what I mean. Just try to stay away from the new neighbor.” He father fumbled with the plane tickets in his hand as if uncomfortable with the subject.

Isobel rolled her eyes as she pulled the car up to the curb in front of the airport. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He nodded. “Good.”

She helped unload the bags onto the luggage cart, happy for something to do that would hopefully shift the subject away from Damien.

Her father squeezed her tight. “Have a good summer, Isa. I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more of it with you.”

Isobel hugged him back. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. There’s no way you could miss this.”

Elizabeth hugged her tight. “I’m so glad we had a full day together and a chance to do a girl’s movie night. It was just like when you were younger.”

Isobel clung to her for a long moment, taking in the familiar perfume, almost afraid to let go. Something deep inside her was waking up and shimmered on the surface. Intuition told her nothing would be the same after this summer. What if she never saw them again? “I love you, Mom,” she mumbled into Elizabeth’s blonde hair.

“You sure you’re okay?” Elizabeth’s concern cut through Isobel’s morbid thoughts, and she pulled away. Although she had never given birth to any babies of her own, she had the intuition of any mother.

Isobel smiled. “Of course. I’ll just miss you guys.”

Elizabeth ran her hand down Isobel’s waist-length hair. “We’ll miss you too, sweetie.”

And then they were gone, wheeling their luggage cart through the automatic doors. A horn blared. Isobel waved at the irritated driver, climbed into her car, and eased into the heavy traffic. She hadn’t brought her phone, so the ride home was an exercise in frustration. Though she loved music, too often the radio stations played the same obnoxious songs over and over again. At one point, two different stations were playing the same song at the same time. As she turned into the driveway, the singer on the radio chanted over and over about how she was never getting back with her boyfriend.

Isobel turned the radio off, glaring at it. “We get it already. Shut up. Nobody cares.”

The house seemed to crouch there, waiting for her when she pulled up in front of it. The late afternoon sun shined on the window. It watched her leave the car and walk up the steps. Under the cover of the front porch, Isobel turned the key in the lock. A blast of icy air hit her as the door swung open. Sorsha shot past her with a hiss, disappearing under a flowering shrub.

Isobel stood on the porch staring into the house. A sense of waiting filled the air. When she finally stepped across the threshold, quiet laughter whispered throughout the house. Whatever was there, its presence was getting stronger. The more it manifested, the more her power tried to escape past her blocks. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

Ignoring the multicolored light at the top of the stairs, Isobel ran into the family room. Once there, she grabbed her phone off the coffee table, plugged it into the stereo, and hit play. She turned the volume up full blast and hoped it would rattle all the windows—especially the new one.

After throwing together a quick sandwich, she carried it out to the table on the expansive deck that ran the whole length of the back of the house. The ground made a sharp drop as it sloped down to the water. The far side of the deck was built in a stilt-like fashion, and a narrow bridge led off from the middle of it down to the empty floating dock.

From the vantage of where she sat, Isobel could see the back of the house next door. Their boat dock was empty too.

Several tall trees clung to the steep strip of yard, their moss-covered limbs shading the water of the creek as it rose with the tide. A light breeze carried the scent of the ocean and a myriad of flowers. Water fowl called to each other through the humid air.

The music pounded through the closed doors. Maybe if she kept it loud enough whatever it was would go deaf, or get annoyed and leave. Somehow, Isobel knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

She stayed until dusk and the mosquitos forced her inside. Isobel shut off the stereo, plunging the house into absolute silence. She waited, straining to catch any unusual sounds. Nothing. Just the quiet thwack of the cat door as Sorsha came back inside. A chill ran over her skin, and she exhaled unsteadily.

Damien stood in the shadows and watched her as she went inside. He had watched her all afternoon, sensing the activity growing in the house and wished he could do more. He wasn’t allowed to intervene until she accepted her past and her powers. Not unless she was in mortal danger. She was safe enough—for now.

Isobel curled up on the couch and pulled the quilt around her, then turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. She finally settled on a movie that looked interesting. Sorsha climbed in her lap. Isobel absently stroked the long, silky fur, determined to focus entirely on the movie and think of nothing else.

The next week rushed by with the same routine. Isobel spent most of her time outside during the day to avoid being near the window. And every night the dream of the man being beheaded disrupted her sleep.

Occasionally, she glimpsed Damien moving around next door and, once or twice, an older man that had to be his uncle. There were a few times when she was certain she saw Damien staring at the house, partially hidden in the shadows under the trees. She found herself looking for him every time she stepped out the door. Something about Damien felt familiar, like she had seen him somewhere before.

The relative peace didn’t last. The atmosphere in the house darkened with each passing day, and Isobel found herself walking around in a constant state of tension. She didn’t sleep well, even when she didn’t dream. The sense of waiting grew and hung thick and oppressive in the air.