of an onyx chip he wore in his left earlobe. His gaze swept her face, then lower, finally coming to rest on the bandages around her wrist peeking out from the sleeve of her coat.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Trinity said.
If possible, his expression turned even darker than before.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
He suddenly reached for her and pulled her coat loose, pushing it off her shoulders. Of course it was crazy, but it was also Creed, so crazy was the least of Trinity’s concerns.
She did step sideways and take over the procedure of disrobing herself. Because she could tell bythe glint in hiscinder eyes that she wouldn’t get away with simply brushing him off.
Her dressings were light and not in the least bit dramatic, but the reveal still added to the storm clouds on Creed’s face.
“One of my friends is dead. Believe me, this is nothing,” Trinity said.
Her voice sounded even huskier than before. Creed’s eyes had been dark and unreadable since that cold frozen day he’d died. Trinity hadn’t been alone in avoiding him since, although she’d probably had more reason to than most. This moment was no different. She should walk away. But something in the luminous depths of his eyes seemed to reflect her own fear.
“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Creed said. The rich scent of mellow Scotch came from him, blended with wood smoke from tending the fire and some other sharper scent she couldn’t place. He’d drowned in late November. She remembered it well. She thought she detected that bite of November wind that had blown along High Lake’s edge that day on his skin.
“I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but I’ve got nowhere else to stay,” Trinity said sarcastically. She bent down to pick up her backpack. When she straightened, he had moved closer. She had to tilt her chin to look up into his face.
It had been so long since she’d seen him. Even longer since she’d pressed her mouth to his icy lips to breathe the fortifying air from her lungs into his. Scarlet Falls was filled with the dead and the dying. That day she’d finally had the chance to stop and reverse one of the tragic accidents that always seemed on the verge of happening.
Many children in town saw and heard things. As they grew—if they grew–they saw and heard less and less.
Except for Trinity.
She saw too much and heard too much long after others seemed to learn to adapt and ignore.
Moving to Boston had seemed to help her…for a little while. But hadn’t she always known it would be impossible to forget the town, not to mention a certain person who lived here?
That cold November evening she’d saved Samuel Creed, but his dark eyes and his fondness for Scotch told a different tale.
“It’s not safe here,” Creed said.
Trinity knew it. She knew it by the shadows that lurked above the tombstones in the old cemetery. She knew it by the unspoken curfew that every child in Scarlet Falls learned to obey and every parent silently enforced. She knew it by the girlish laughter that had followed her home in the night. Somehow she’d always known it by the simmering way Creed had watched her after the incident at the lake—waiting, always waiting.
Yes. By his eyes most of all.
“Nowhere is safe,” Trinity replied.
Then she brushed past her frightening houseguest and made her way upstairs.
Chapter Two
Trinity greeted the sunrise in the back courtyard. She was sheltered from the autumn breeze, but the chill morning air caused her fitted long-sleeve Lycra shirt to feel cold against her skin. She also wore thermal yoga pants, yet still she shivered as she stretched. The rear of Hillhaven formed an “h,” with two additions that had always been called wings, but which were more like stubby abutments put into place when a kitchen and more bedrooms became necessary, one at the turn of the nineteenth century and one predating that by a hundred years. The oldest, the east wing, was closed off and no longer used. She was used to its dead, curtained windows with empty rooms behind the glass.
That part of Hillhaven had been closed off for years, cleaned only in spring when her mother would also have the windows and roof inspected. In fact, she’d wanted to have it torn down when Trinity was a girl, but there had been an odd inheritance stipulation that forbade it.
The grassy area left in the middle of the questionable hug formed by the two wings had been meticulously landscaped by her mother, but there was enough unplanted area for Trinity’s morning Qigong. The familiar repetitive movements of Chinese yoga soothed her and also memorialized Jen Po, the friend she’d lost in the fire. Jen had taught her the Eight Pieces of Brocade that made up Trinity’s morning routine. She focused on each move. Its execution. Its hold. The inhalation and release of every careful breath.
Even in the midst of her meditation she knew the moment Creed watched by the tightening between her shoulder blades. The tension that threatened to become a tingle if she was worlds more brave. On the surface, she ignored him. Her body flowed into Pushing Up the Heavens, but her perception of him was as profound as ever. She knew which window in the west wing he occupied. There was movement and shadow, but there was also more than that.
Awareness.
He added to her fear.
She had always tried so hard to appear normal while at the same time helping redirect others from danger. All too often she was too late, and she was the first person on the scene following one of the many “accidents” in Scarlet Falls. It was why she’d decided to become a nurse.
Constant vigilance and blood on your hands wore on you after a while. You could give up or you could give all you had, and then figure out ways to give some more.
She hadn’t needed a suspicious audience in Samuel Creed.
Her Boston reprieve had been heady, but it had been over too soon.
There had come a point in her dark life that she had to wonder if she was bringing the help or the hell to everyone she met.
It wasn’t only the town that was haunted.She was haunted, too. By memories, both old and recent, and by the persistent ghost of alittle girl who seemed even more determined than ever to not leave her alone.
Moisture pooled in her eyes as a pink wash of sunshine flowed over the gray edges of Hillhaven. Under the ever watchful eyes of Creed, Trinity tried to find her center and her peace, but she failed.
* * *
The box of matches sat open on Trinity’s dresser when she returned to her room. She had stopped in the doorway as she took off her coat and looked carefully around, easily resuming a routine that had been a part of her life in Scarlet Falls for as long as she could remember. It was a habit she should have kept up in Boston.
The sight of the matchbox made her burned arm throb.
Of course, there were matches in the house. Last night Creed must have used them to start the fire in the fireplace that was glowing when she had arrived. But he wouldn’t have carried the box upstairs
