Dark Escape

Chapter 8

Beams of moonlight trickled through the shutters that Brandon threw open. He lifted the window to let in the night air. From the staleness of the room, he could tell that it was closed up for quite some time. He stood in the dark and watched moonlit shadows dancing across the furnishings.

He had a sense of not being alone. The hair on the back of his neck was on end and a shiver ran up his spine. He wondered if it was such a good idea to stay after all. Things were different. He felt a change about the property as soon as he got out of the cab. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time; a sense of danger, but of what? He sensed it was more than the evil looking creature Maggie killed, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A soft scratching on his door caught his attention. With graceful, silent strides he made his way from the window to the door and paused with his ear to the wood. There was a small thud and then more light scratching. He eased the door open. Maggie stood motionless, holding one finger to her lips, while beckoning him to follow with another.

Brandon eased his tall frame out into the hallway and followed her to the servant's stairwell. The stairs moaned under their weight and they stopped several times to listen for signs of Tara stirring. Although he had no clue what she was up to, he sensed it was best to keep Tara out of it.

Maggie led him to the study that was dimly illuminated by a few tapered candles and poured them both a brandy. As he reached out to take it from her bony, well used hand their eyes locked. He felt a familiarity about her. A good majority of his memories were still all jumbled from his accident, but he was certain they would return eventually and then he'd know why he felt like they already knew each other.

"I feel like we know each other too," she said softly. "Yet for the life of me I don't know why."

He stepped back, completely thrown off by her display of abilities. Brandon held his glass to his lips while watching her warily, barely sipping it.

"Are you some kind of a witch or something?" he finally asked.

"Witch? That's what you're calling me? Witch?" Maggie hissed as she stood glowering at Brandon with her hands on her hips, her legs spread apart, and a large scowl on her face. If she had a parrot on her shoulder and a patch on her eye, she would have easily passed for a pirate; an offended one at that.

"I meant no offense. I'm sorry. I didn't know you would react like that. You read my mind and I tried to figure out why. I apologize," he said with sincerity as he stepped away from the light of the moon.

"Quite a player, aren't ya?" she spat.

His apology hadn't soothed the tone in her voice.

"Player?" he said with confusion.

Brandon was either a good liar or he really didn't know what Maggie was referring to. She scowled with frustration. It was rare for her to not be able to know if someone was good or bad, but with the last two men who came around Tara she'd had a dickens of a time. She shook her head in hopes of clearing away whatever blocked her.

"Never mind," she said. "We don't have time for this. Just remember I'm watching ya." She tossed back a decent amount of brandy. "Witch indeed."

Maggie put the candle down on the mantelpiece and moved to sit on the end of the sofa. After lighting a small hurricane lamp on the center of the coffee table, she opened the family book she placed there earlier and leafed through the pages.

"Can I ask why we are using candles instead of the lights? Is there something wrong with the electricity?" he asked as he positioned himself in a chair not far from her.