Bound by Time (9 page)

Isobel moved without thinking; her only thought to get out of the house. She turned to reach for the top step and bumped into something solid. Isobel looked up. A body dressed in old clothing swung side-to-side. The face was blackened from the tight rope around its neck. Her neck.

A scream tore past her lips. Isobel turned and ran in the only direction she could go. Up the narrow stairs and into the finished attic space. She slammed the door behind her and sank to the floor, shaking, her breath ragged as the shadowy black veins faded from her skin.

The house remained silent as she sat there. Waiting.

When her heart finally returned to normal, and she had gained her composure, Isobel dragged herself to her feet and stared around the dimly lit dusty room. It was never used for anything. Only a small stack of boxes stood in one corner of the large, open space. Rihanna’s stuff. Elizabeth had refused to throw it out when they moved insisting that someday Isobel might want to go through it.

What secrets did those boxes hold? Did they hold any at all? Isobel looked back at the door and at the boxes again. There was no way she was going out there right now. Might as well find out what was in them, at least it would give her something to do.

Energy surrounded her as she walked across the attic. Not the dark energy from the window. This was hers, pure and light; the power she had denied for so long. She watched it disturb the dust motes dancing in the sunlight from the two small windows. Her senses sharpened; the motes became clearer and the minute details in the woodgrain of the floor stood out. For the first time in her life, she welcomed the energy. It washed the darkness from her mind and wrapped around her like comforting arms. Although still afraid of it, she was more afraid of the energy on the landing.

A mixture of joy, fear, and deep sadness settled over Isobel, although she knew they weren't her own emotions. She turned away from the dust motes and looked at the boxes again. Her birth mother’s ghost hovered there. Isobel’s heart caught at the sight of the woman she had rarely seen growing up. The one who had left her to figure this out on her own without explaining anything before she died. Rihanna’s translucent hands rested on a box as if urging her to look in that one.

As Isobel crossed the last of the distance, Rihanna’s ghost faded taking its emotions with it. Isobel stared at the box for a long moment before breaking the tape and folding back the flap. She pulled out a wooden box of candles, some pictures, and a few other little things. Then she found a book. Rihanna’s diary.

Isobel lifted it carefully from the box and opened it. Although the first page was missing the rest appeared to be all there. She sank to the floor and sat back against the boxes, immersing herself in the neatly written script. Rihanna had hunted demons. Hours passed and still Isobel sat in the dusty, stuffy attic reading the journal.

The last passage was the night of Rihanna’s death.

I’m afraid. This demon is stronger than the others. I’m not sure I have the power to banish it on my own; however, there is no time to wait for others to arrive and help me. John has begged me not to go. He became angry when I insisted and asked me how Isobel would feel if I died. He thinks I care more about banishing demons than I do about Isobel.

My gifts are strong and cannot be ignored, but he is wrong. I love Isobel beyond anything else. It is for her that I do this. I didn’t ask for Isobel to be the key, but she is and I have to protect her. They want him free again. If they get their hands on her… She is too young, and her power hasn’t come to her yet. Isobel would never be a match for him, and she has no idea any of this is going on. If she dies by his hand, he will be free again. Free to spread his evil as he did so long ago.

I have respected John’s wishes and kept this part of my life from Isobel. I only hope he honors mine and explains all of this when her powers do come to her. I fear I will not be here to do it; however, I have no choice.

I have to do this for Isobel. Even at the cost of my own life. Hopefully one day she will forgive me.

Isobel reread the passage three times, chills spreading over her skin. The one time she had pressed her father he had admitted in a flash of anger that her birth mother was killed by her own power. Then he refused to say anymore except that power such as Rihanna’s was too dangerous and was better left alone.

She turned the page, hoping for more; only blank pages greeted her. Isobel stood up and carefully placed everything back in the box; a torrent of confusing emotions roiling in her. Closing the flaps, Isobel tried to sort through her feelings. Her dad had made it sound like Rihanna was gone so much because she cared more for her calling than she had for Isobel. That she had become reckless and overconfident, and had died because she cared more about her power than anything else. She hadn’t. In her long absences she had hunted demons. She had faced a demon she wasn’t strong enough to handle and died in order to protect Isobel. Had Rihanna succeeded in banishing it? She must have because Isobel had no memories of anything coming after her.

Isobel turned toward the door and stopped.
You are the key
was scrawled across the door in bright, luminescent writing—the same writing in the diary—and then it faded and disappeared. Isobel walked forward and trailed her fingers across the door where the words had been.

“The key to what?” she whispered.

Only silence answered.

Isobel opened the door and crept down the attic stairs. The landing looked normal. Bright light from the setting sun filled the space in a myriad of colors, and the smell of burnt sage lingered in the air. No shadows crawled across the walls. No dead Isobel swung above the top step.

Wasting no more time she fled down the stairs and through the foyer to the front porch. She should leave. Drive far away. Maybe see if Amelia would let her stay there even if it would disrupt her friend’s summer. Except she couldn’t. Something was happening in her house, and she sensed it was bigger than her. Flashes of what felt like memories moved through her mind. A sense of warning. If she left something bad would happen to everything and everyone she loved. Whatever was in this house she had to face it, and she would play a vital part. How she knew this, she didn’t know.

“Hello.”

Isobel jerked and looked up. Standing at the rose bushes was the older man she’d seen next door. “Hello.”

“Damien said you were alone over here. Would you like to have dinner with us?”

“I don’t know.” Isobel was torn. Damien seemed so familiar. She wanted to get to know him better and find out why, but at the same time she didn’t. Why did a part of her long for him? After the evening she had spent with him, her heart ached to see him again and that frightened her. She’d never felt anything like it. Isobel had tried dating and even had a couple of semi-serious relationships but could never make a deep connection. What she felt for Damien felt obsessive in some way, and Isobel was sure that it wasn’t healthy.

The older man smiled gently. “Please, indulge an old man. My nephew has seen fit to cook enough food to feed an army. You will likely save me from death by overeating.”

He cooked too? Gorgeous guys like Damien who cooked, loved books, and rescued young women from hallucinations during thunderstorms just didn’t exist. Except he did. Isobel’s heart did a flip flop at the thought of seeing him again and healthy or not, haunted house or not, she relented. “Sure.”

Malevolent anger washed over her from the window the minute she stepped off the porch. Trying to ignore it, she crossed the lawn to the small break in the bushes. It would be a relief to be away from the house for a while.

The older man smiled. “I’m Aiden.”

“I’m Isobel.”

“Yes, I know.”

I
sobel watched Aiden as they walked into the house. He seemed familiar as well. She had seen him before he became her neighbor although she couldn’t place where.

Damien looked up when she came into the kitchen. His eyes swept over her, searching for any injuries. He’d felt the spike in energy and spent the day torn between rushing over there and staying away. She had to acknowledge her power before he could reveal anything of importance. Only if she were in mortal danger could he break that rule. He had no choice at this point except to wait. Aiden had finally said he would check on her to ease his mind. Damien hadn’t expected him to invite her over.

Damien’s surprise at seeing her was evident. Uh-oh, he wasn’t in on the invitation. For a moment, she considered making an excuse to leave. Then Damien smiled at her and glanced at Aiden. “We’re having a dinner guest?”

Aiden walked to a chair at the large table in the eat-in kitchen space. “I thought perhaps she would enjoy a break from…being alone.”

Isobel eyed the older man. What had he almost said? Shaking off the feeling that she’d missed something, Isobel turned to Damien. “Can I help?”

Damien shook his head, warmth in his blue eyes. “You’re the guest; you’re supposed to be entertained. Besides, I am almost finished.”

Isobel stared into those eyes—her heart ached as if it knew something she didn’t. It felt like coming home, but that didn’t make sense. Damien turned away, but not before she caught a look of longing in his expression.

“Isobel.” Aiden motioned with his hand, distracting her. “Come. Keep an old man company.”

She smiled and took a seat beside him. He didn’t look that old. Maybe late fifties. “Tell me, what is a young woman like you doing all alone in such a big house?”

“My father’s job took my parents overseas for the next six months. I’m home from college for the summer so I’m just hanging out keeping track of the place and feeding the cat.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a summer.” Aiden’s eyes searched her face.

Isobel shrugged. “I like quiet.”

Damien listened as she talked with Aiden. The news that she was going to be alone all summer both relieved and bothered him. It would make it easier when it came time to tell her everything. When she was ready to hear the truth. In the meantime, it made it easier for Xapar to get into her head.

It took several trips for Damien to bring all of the food. Soon the table was laden with roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, baked potatoes, warm sourdough bread, salad, and a tureen of soup.

Isobel’s eyes swept the platters and bowls. “Your uncle was right; you did cook enough to feed an army. What’s the occasion?”

Damien smiled as he cut the chicken into servings. “No occasion. I like to cook.” He didn’t bother to elaborate that cooking was a way to distract himself when he was worried.

“He does this on a regular basis,” Aiden said gruffly. “Trying to kill me off with food I think.”

Damien laughed. Its rich sound sent a ripple of warmth through Isobel that curled into her stomach. That laugh, where had she heard it before?

As they started eating Isobel gazed across the table at Damien, her mind reeling with questions. “So Aiden is your uncle?” He nodded although she saw a flicker of wariness enter his eyes. “Where are your parents? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Damien stared at his plate for a moment before answering. “My parents are gone. I have no siblings.” He couldn’t tell her that he never had parents; they only existed to bring him into the world. That his life had always revolved around finding her. That Aiden wasn’t really his uncle, just an old friend who had been his friend many times before. Or that he had many brothers. There was just too much he couldn’t tell her yet.

Isobel looked down as a blush spread across her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Damien shook his head; now she felt sorry for him. “No need to apologize. They’ve been gone a long time. I don’t even remember them. Aiden raised me.” At least that part was true. He never remembered his parents. Always one of the others was there to raise and care for him until he reached the age of ascension and his powers and memories came back to him. One day, it would be his job to find the newborn boy and do the same.

Isobel studied him. He truly didn’t seem bothered by the lack of parents. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. You?”

Isobel laughed softly. How silly to think he would give some extraordinary answer. “I turned nineteen a couple of weeks ago. The day we ran into each other at the bookstore.” She scooped a bite of baked potato onto her fork and paused. “You speak differently than most guys your age.”