thought of having to endure a place called Haw-wah-ee was even worse.
The very notion jellied his knees.
“Well?” he thundered, pinning his wrath on Geordie. “I’ll ask you again. What say you if she refuses?”
“She won’t.” Geordie set down his walking stick with a clack . “She’s already afraid of us. You can’t deny how she hastens through here, always glancing over her shoulder as if she expects us to jump down out of our portraits and whisk her away to some harrowing fate.”
“Geordie speaks true,” rumbled a voice from the back corner. “She’ll do anything rather than risk having us hovering around her.”
“I ne’er thought of myself as a man to set women cringing.” Roderick’s pride bit deep. “If you’d know the way of it, the ladies were e’er fawning all o’er me. And I sure didn’t mind their attention! Mindy Menlove is a fine lassie. She didn’t deserve what was done to her and she doesn’t need—”
“ ’Tis the only way, Roderick.” Silvanus clamped a hand on his shoulder. “If we lose her, it may be another hundred years before someone else as likely to help us comes along.”
“You know it as well as the rest of us.” Geordie spoke the inevitable. “We have to do it.”
Roderick harrumphed and jerked free of his cousin’s grasp.
Then he nodded.
He’d be damned if he’d voice his assent. A head bob would have to do.
Still fuming, he went to stand beneath his portrait frame. “When do you propose we confront her?”
“It must be soon.” Silvanus looked at the others. “She’s already speaking with estate agents.”
The mist swirling around Roderick went cold and glittered darkly.
He folded his arms, ignoring the chill. “How soon?”
“I’d suggest tonight.” Geordie glanced at the long gallery’s tall, diamond-paned windows. “The full moon will lend a dash of eeriness to our appearance.”
Roderick snorted.
Ignoring him, his kinsmen cheered as one, and then the otherworldly haze in the room began to shimmy and swirl, individual wafts spinning back into the portrait frames whence they’d come.
Only Roderick waited, looking on in disgust as they assumed their usual poses, their faces once again turning as cold and silent as the oiled canvas that held them.
“So be it.” Roderick spoke to the empty room. “I ken when I’m outnumbered.”
Then he, too, slipped back into his heavy gilt frame.
And as he settled into place, he glared out into the quiet of the long gallery, absolutely refusing to think about what would happen when the moon rose.
He just knew it would be a disaster.
Chapter 1
MacNeil’s Folly
New Hope, Pennsylvania
Definitely our dimension . . .
Mindy Menlove lived in a mausoleum.
A thick-walled medieval castle full of gloom and shadows with just the right dash of Tudor and Gothic to curdle the blood of anyone bold enough to pass through its massive iron-studded door.
Once within, the adventure continued with a maze of dark passageways and rooms crammed to bursting with rich tapestries and heavy, age-blackened furniture. Dust motes thrived, often spinning eerily in the light that spilled through tall, stone-mullioned windows. Some doors squeaked delightfully, and certain floorboards were known for giving the most delicious creaks. Huge carved-stone fireplaces still held lingering traces of the atmosphere-charged scent of peat-and-heather-tinged smoke. Or so it was claimed by visitors with noses sensitive to such things.
Few were the modern disfigurements.
Yet the castle did boast hot water, heat, and electricity. Not to mention cable TV and high-speed Internet. MacNeil’s Folly was also within the delivery area of the nearest pizza shop. And the daily paper arrived without fail on the steps each morning.
These luxuries were made possible because the ancient pile no longer stood
The very notion jellied his knees.
“Well?” he thundered, pinning his wrath on Geordie. “I’ll ask you again. What say you if she refuses?”
“She won’t.” Geordie set down his walking stick with a clack . “She’s already afraid of us. You can’t deny how she hastens through here, always glancing over her shoulder as if she expects us to jump down out of our portraits and whisk her away to some harrowing fate.”
“Geordie speaks true,” rumbled a voice from the back corner. “She’ll do anything rather than risk having us hovering around her.”
“I ne’er thought of myself as a man to set women cringing.” Roderick’s pride bit deep. “If you’d know the way of it, the ladies were e’er fawning all o’er me. And I sure didn’t mind their attention! Mindy Menlove is a fine lassie. She didn’t deserve what was done to her and she doesn’t need—”
“ ’Tis the only way, Roderick.” Silvanus clamped a hand on his shoulder. “If we lose her, it may be another hundred years before someone else as likely to help us comes along.”
“You know it as well as the rest of us.” Geordie spoke the inevitable. “We have to do it.”
Roderick harrumphed and jerked free of his cousin’s grasp.
Then he nodded.
He’d be damned if he’d voice his assent. A head bob would have to do.
Still fuming, he went to stand beneath his portrait frame. “When do you propose we confront her?”
“It must be soon.” Silvanus looked at the others. “She’s already speaking with estate agents.”
The mist swirling around Roderick went cold and glittered darkly.
He folded his arms, ignoring the chill. “How soon?”
“I’d suggest tonight.” Geordie glanced at the long gallery’s tall, diamond-paned windows. “The full moon will lend a dash of eeriness to our appearance.”
Roderick snorted.
Ignoring him, his kinsmen cheered as one, and then the otherworldly haze in the room began to shimmy and swirl, individual wafts spinning back into the portrait frames whence they’d come.
Only Roderick waited, looking on in disgust as they assumed their usual poses, their faces once again turning as cold and silent as the oiled canvas that held them.
“So be it.” Roderick spoke to the empty room. “I ken when I’m outnumbered.”
Then he, too, slipped back into his heavy gilt frame.
And as he settled into place, he glared out into the quiet of the long gallery, absolutely refusing to think about what would happen when the moon rose.
He just knew it would be a disaster.
Chapter 1
MacNeil’s Folly
New Hope, Pennsylvania
Definitely our dimension . . .
Mindy Menlove lived in a mausoleum.
A thick-walled medieval castle full of gloom and shadows with just the right dash of Tudor and Gothic to curdle the blood of anyone bold enough to pass through its massive iron-studded door.
Once within, the adventure continued with a maze of dark passageways and rooms crammed to bursting with rich tapestries and heavy, age-blackened furniture. Dust motes thrived, often spinning eerily in the light that spilled through tall, stone-mullioned windows. Some doors squeaked delightfully, and certain floorboards were known for giving the most delicious creaks. Huge carved-stone fireplaces still held lingering traces of the atmosphere-charged scent of peat-and-heather-tinged smoke. Or so it was claimed by visitors with noses sensitive to such things.
Few were the modern disfigurements.
Yet the castle did boast hot water, heat, and electricity. Not to mention cable TV and high-speed Internet. MacNeil’s Folly was also within the delivery area of the nearest pizza shop. And the daily paper arrived without fail on the steps each morning.
These luxuries were made possible because the ancient pile no longer stood
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