One Last Time by Denise Daisy Page B

I am terrified of the place. I can go on with this charade, but I draw the line there.”
    “Ave.” He takes my face in his hands and gently brushes my hair away from my eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” My belly burns with his touch. The air has been pushed from my lungs. I swallow hard and hopes he doesn’t notice.
    “Why do we have to stay there?” I manage to ask.
    “Because I can get closer to the family and maybe have some influence on Mr. Faulkner.” His eyes invade mine. My heart is pounding now. As much as I want to be near Quillan, this turn of events terrifies me.
    “What if we fail? We could end up at the dinner party and be slaughtered right along with everyone else.”
    His grip tightens on my face. “If I can’t save Lunar, then I will send you home immediately. I promise.”
    “Send me home?” My stomach is churning now. “What about you?”
    “Yes, of course, me too.” He smiles softly. Something in his eyes tells me he’s lying.
     
     

Chapter 16
     
    The continual slamming of the wooden shutter wakens me from my slumber. Opening my eyes, I scream, mistaking the long white curtains billowing in the wind for ghosts. It’s an honest mistake. I am uncomfortable about spending the night here. It took me two hours to relax enough to fall asleep. Despite the stifling heat, I keep the quilt pulled over my head, blocking out any ghouls hovering around inside my bedchamber tonight.
    “I’ll get it.” Quillan rises off the bed we’re sharing. My heart accelerates more when I remember who I am shacking up with. It’s hard enough being forced to stay in this horrible haunted mansion, but sharing a bed with Quillan only elevates my anxiety. He walks to the window. His hair is out of the ponytail, and he’s shirtless. Can my pounding heart take anymore? My best bet is to turn away so he doesn’t catch me gawking.
    “Sure is stormy out there.” He pulls the wooden shutter closed and then turns up the wick on the lamp, giving a dim glow of light to the dark room.
    “Great,” I mumble. “Why would I expect anything different? I am spending the night in a haunted mansion. A thunderstorm is the appropriate ambiance.”
    “It’s not haunted,” he corrects me and climbs back into bed.
    “Maybe not yet,” I defend my knowledge of the place, “but it is in our time. A lot of my friends came here and saw things. Even Mike saw the silhouette of Emily hanging in the cupola, and Mike doesn’t lie or exaggerate.”
    “Your boyfriend speaks out of ignorance,” he says sourly.
    “He’s not ignorant.” I am quick to vouch for Mike’s intelligence. “Actually, he’s one of the smartest people I know. And I told you before, he’s not my boyfriend.”
    “There is no such thing as ghosts Averie, so let’s dispel one of your fears right now. We are eternal spiritual beings. Any apparition you or your friends saw was merely a person in another dimension standing at a thin place where the membrane between the two worlds is so thin you get a glimpse inside.” He fluffs his flat feather pillow but doesn’t lie down. Instead, he sits there, studying me, while I lay on my back looking up at him. His hair hangs in his face, and the way he’s looking at me steals my breath again.
    I sit up and hug my knees, joining him in conversation. “So you’re saying when Mike saw Emily in the cupola, he was actually seeing her hanging? Like she does a month from now?” I can tell Quillan doesn’t like any reference to Emily’s unfortunate demise. He clenches his jaw, anger burning behind his eyes.
    “She can’t hang herself a month from now, Averie. When you say it, you are conceding defeat. Good God, do you not have any optimism in you at all? Any courage that things can change, or are you too afraid to hope, too?”
    Okay, I am a little embarrassed by his disappointment. Instead of admitting my defeatist attitude, I make matters worse, launching into my self-defense mode.