Moon of Little Winter
by Margaret Marr

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

Cades Cove, North Carolina
Late December

Chely Austin’s eyes fluttered, and then sprang open. A thud echoed from inside the bedroom next to hers. It was a subtle sound, as if a chair had been knocked against the wall and caught just in time to deaden the impact. Her heart fluttered fearfully in her chest.

Someone’s in the house.

Or had she imagined the noise? Maybe she was somewhere between awake and asleep where dreams seemed real. Stirring, she awoke further. No other sound echoed in the huge house. Maybe it had been her imagination or part of a dream. Not likely. Houses may creak and groan, but not thump.

Another thud, followed by a muffled oath, caused her to sit up and reach for the bedside lamp. The covers slipped to her waist as light flooded the cavernous room. Cold tendrils of fear snaked around her heart like the icy fingers of a thick fog. The rapid pulse in her ear drowned out further sound. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves, and then cocked her head to the side to listen.

Minutes ticked by without another sound. She sucked in another mouthful of air, held it and listened some more.

Footsteps scuffed across hardwood floors.

Those icy fingers coiled toward her stomach.

Beyond a doubt, she was no longer alone in the old house. And whoever was there with her was in the next room.

Opening the nightstand drawer, she pulled out the pistol she kept for protection.

“Didn’t want to have to use this,” she mumbled as she checked the bullets. Curling her fingers around the cold steel, she kept her eye on the door and eased off the bed. Cold air crept across her feet, circled her ankles and crawled up her legs.

It’s always cold in this place.

Spooky, her black cat, yawned and stretched on the bed, but settled back into sleep as if he thought his mistress was some kind of a nut to get up at this ungodly hour and wander about a cold, dark house, especially with someone else walking about in it. Nope, Spooky was staying right where it was warm and safe.

“Some guard kitty you are,” Chely grumbled, but stroked his fur before she tiptoed to the door. She paused to listen again, her breath shallow, and then twisted the doorknob. With slow, quiet moves, she stepped into the darkened hallway. A nightlight glowed at the other end where the attic stairs rose to the third floor, the last few steps swallowed in darkness. The scant light did little to dispel the shadows of night.

The beam of a flashlight spilled through the open door of the room next to hers. It stretched further, and crawled along the floor until it reached the top of the stairs that led to the first level of the house.

Chely swallowed hard as fear raced through her blood. A chill rose along her skin, sending cold shivers across her body.

Who is that? And what are they doing in my house?

She wished like crazy she’d called Verizon, before now, to hook up her phone. 911 would come in handy right at this moment. Dang my hide for procrastinating yet again.

The intruder emerged on the other end of the flashlight and stepped out into the hall. He swung the flashlight’s beam to his left, and then swept it back the other way toward Chely.

Almost strangling on a gulp of air, he took a startled step back. “Damn a’mighty, you scared the hell out of me. Who are you?”

She jerked the gun upward and pointed it in the vicinity of his chest. “Don’t move.”

The man flinched and dropped the flashlight. It rolled to the top of the stairs and stopped, tottering on the edge. He raised his arms to shoulder level, palms outward as if he were under arrest. “Easy now, lady, I mean you no harm.” The red and black-checkered shirt, stretched across his chest, made him appear rustic like the outdoors type. Faded jeans bunched on top of scuffed brown work boots. But that wasn’t what mesmerized her. It was his eyes. Johnny Depp eyes. Even in what little light she could see by, she could tell they were dark and mysterious, and smoldered with something undefined, something she wanted to discover.

She shook herself out of distracting thoughts. “What are you doing here?” The gun trembled in her hands and she cursed her show of fear. She didn’t want this stranger to see her reluctance to shoot him even if she had no choice. Hellfire and damnation. Rattled to the point of insanity, she steadied the gun and tried to gather her thoughts into more positive things. If she was going to die tonight, she certainly didn’t want to go out of this world cussing. It probably wouldn’t be a good thing to meet God with the S word catapulting from her lips.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He dropped his hands.

“Get those hands back up where I can see them!” Chely waggled the gun, showing as much menace as she could muster. No fear, no fear, no fear. The chant returned some of her courage.

“What are you? Some kind of FBI agent?” he asked.

The flashlight rolled back and forth as if an unseen hand shoved it. Its light cast huge, round, moving shadows on the walls. Chely took her attention from the man and frowned at the flashlight with a hint of uneasiness. Had it moved all by itself, or was she just so scared she had imagined it?

Her grip tightened on the gun until it dug into her flesh as she glanced from the flashlight back to the intruder. “Why are you here? This is my house.”

“Your house?”

“My house,” she confirmed.

The man shook his head and mumbled, “Just my luck.”

Chely licked dry lips. She was scared spit-less, but wasn’t about to let him know it, not that he couldn’t already see it for himself.

Was he a thief? He must not have expected anyone to be here. The house had stood empty until a month ago. After her grandfather’s death, she’d gained ownership of it. Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away. No matter how much she wished for it, her grandfather couldn’t come back from the dead. She was truly alone now and had to make the best of it.

Dust covered most everything, but there were a lot of valuable antiques strung throughout the house. Her grandfather had been an avid collector of old and forgotten things. If the trespasser had been looking for an easy heist, he must be very disappointed indeed to find her here.

“If you leave now, I won’t call the police.” She hoped he wouldn’t call her bluff. There was no phone service in the house yet, but she prayed he wasn’t privy to that particular bit of information.

“Sorry, no-can-do.”

“What?” Was she going to have to shoot him? Oh, glory be, she hoped not!

“I’ve come to claim what belongs to me.”

Oh, now that was rich! A burglar who thought he had a right to his neighbor’s big screen TV, so to speak. She flicked the safety off the pistol, and prayed she wouldn’t have to fire it. Lord she hadn’t prayed this much in a long time, which would probably make the Lord less inclined to bid her any favors.

An old painting slipped down the wall and crashed to the floor, breaking apart in one corner, warping the picture inward.

Chely screamed and her finger jerked against the trigger. The bullet splintered the doorframe next to the intruder’s head.

He ducked, covered his head with his arms, and jumped to the side. “Damn! Woman! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry, it was an accident.” She held the gun away from her body, not sure what to do with it. “I really don’t want to shoot you, but you don’t seem to be giving me much of a choice.” She gripped the gun again and steadied it in her hands. “Please leave. I don’t know who you are, and it’s the middle of the night.”

“Just put the gun down.” He made a lowering motion with his hand. “Like I said before, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“No way!”

“Well, at least point it toward the floor.” The flashlight rolled back and forth twice then settled down again.

What the hell is wrong with that flashlight? You’re cussing again. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she willed her pulse to a smoother rate.

Spooky wandered from the bedroom and curled around her ankles. A loud meow issued from his mouth, then he sat down to lick his paws. After a moment, he ambled over to the intruder and rubbed against the rough material of his faded jeans.

Traitor! Chely glared at the cat, then at the man. “Please leave.” Her voice trembled and sounded small. The exact opposite of what she wanted.

The man took a step toward her, holding up his hands when she gripped the gun tighter. “Look, I own this house…well…half the property it sits on, and I can prove it. But right now, I’m tired and I need some sleep. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

Is he nuts? She wasn’t about to let a stranger sleep anywhere near her. Why, he could be an ax murderer, a strangler or a Jack the Ripper type.

He reached behind him and withdrew something from his back pocket.

“What are you doing?” Chely demanded. Her grip tightened on the gun again, but she kept her finger off the trigger.

“Relax, I’m just getting my cell phone so I can call Joe.” He held it out to where she could see it was just a phone.

“Joe Downy, the deputy?” Chely relaxed a little. If he knew Joe, then maybe he was okay.

“Yes, and he’ll vouch for me so we can get some sleep while there’s still some dark left outside.”

“Can’t you just leave?”

“No. I didn’t drive here and I’m tired.” He punched at the phone with one finger, and then lifted it to his ear. A few seconds later, he spoke into the mouthpiece.

He hadn’t drove? Where had he come from? And why was he here? It was a small comfort he knew Joe, but then again, he could be lying. Maybe he hadn’t punched in a real phone number.

“It’s not funny,” he said into the mouthpiece. “Would you please let her know I’m not a psycho before she blows off a part of my body I can’t function without?” He held the phone out to her. “Joe wants to talk to you.”

Chely cautiously took the phone and brought it to her ear. “Joe?”

“Hey, Darlin’.” He sounded sleepy, but amused.

“I’m sorry we woke you.” Chely sneaked a peek at the handsome intruder. Now he’s handsome? He squatted beside Spooky and gently petted the cat’s black fur.

“Not a problem. You did the right thing. But no need to worry about him. He’s Mae Walker’s grandson and a good friend of mine. You’re safe with him.”

That crazy old woman was the intruder’s grandmother? She didn’t know if that made her feel better or not. “You’re sure?” she said uncertain. Whispers of Mae Walker delving in the black arts had reached Chely’s ears more than once or twice over the years.

“Positive. Now go on back to sleep, Darlin’ and don’t worry about a thing.”

“Okay, thanks, Joe.” She handed the phone back to the trespasser. “He says I’m safe with you.”

He stuffed the phone in his back pocket. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to try and get some sleep.” He stepped back into the room he’d appeared from earlier.

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