PROLOGUE

In Japanese mythology, there is a creature called a jibakurei . The jibakurei , or Earth-bound spirit, is tied to a particular place or event and is unable to proceed to the afterlife. This is usually due to the death being the result of a curse or a violent or otherwise untimely death. Rather than proceed into the next life, they are doomed to repeat the events of their death over and over again, their soul forever tethered to the world.

I am not Japanese, and while I admire Japanese culture, I am not an avid student of their mythology or their literature. So, why I choose this particular haunted-house myth to dwell on as I wander through my parents' home in Boston is a mystery to me. Perhaps it's because if there is any place on Earth that might contain a jibakureii, it would be this house.

My name is Mary Wilcox. I am fifty-two years old, and a governess for the past two of those years after a long and fulfilling career as a schoolteacher before. I am also the last surviving member of my family. My father died in this house when I was thirty-three when an aneurysm burst in his brain. My mother died in this house seven years ago after a long and debilitating illness that robbed her of everything else before it took her life.

My sister, Anne Wilcox, didn't die in this house. She escaped, fleeing west just over thirty years ago and enjoying a brief respite on the California coast before moving on to parts unknown. She may still be alive, but she has chosen to live that life without interference from me. I wish her well.

Perhaps the lack of spirits here can be attributed to my choice to release myself from the obligation of finding Annie and learning once and for all what happened to her all of those years ago. After all, the psychologist in me would suggest that a haunting is nothing more than a manifestation of one’s own guilt and remorse. If one isn't guilty or remorseful, then one will not be haunted.

Still, I am shocked to find my childhood home so… empty.

“Not bad,” my companion says.

I turn to him and raise an eyebrow. Before I reply, I take a moment to admire him. Sean O’Connell is the most unlikely and most welcome surprise to occur in my life since losing Annie. He is tall, strong and handsome in a rugged way, with a powerful jaw, hooded eyes and broad shoulders that call to mind the heroes of the romance novels I read when I was younger. It’s far too soon to say that I’m in love with him, but I’m certainly heading in that direction.

He notices my slight smile and misunderstands its meaning. “What? It’s not bad. A few solid days of cleaning, and we’ll have it spruced right up. Might need an electrician to come out and retune a few things, but I’ll make sure they do a good job.”

“You will, will you?”

“Of course. Everyone has secrets, and I’m quite adept at finding them. Once I impress upon our electrician friend that nothing is sacred, they will be motivated to do a very thorough and very efficient job.”

“Are all electricians brigands then?”

“Sure they are,” he replied, “As are all professionals. They prey on those who don’t know.” He grins at me. “So I make sure to know.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Well, I’m glad to have you protecting me, Sir Sean.”

I look around the empty and silent parlor, and my smile fades. I could almost wish for a haunting, if only to remind me that this place is more than just a building.

Once more, Sean misunderstands the reason for my pensive look. He’s a sweet man, but like most men, he’s rather thick. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

I don’t feel like educating him today. “Yes, it has. Seven years since I was last here.”

“Only seven?”

“Only seven.”

“Oh, that’s right. You cared for your mother in her final days.”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t told me much about her.”

My lips thin a little. “I haven’t.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment. Sean breaks it by saying, “Right. Well, I’ll bring the bags in. Will you be staying here tonight, or will you be at the hotel?”

I smile slightly. “Is that your way of asking me on a date?”

“Sure. We can call it a date if you want.”

I chuckle and kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll stay here.”

He gives me the dazzling grin that first captivated me nine months prior. Has it only been nine months that we’ve known each other.

“We’ll start with the bedroom, then.”

“We’ll start with dinner,” I counter. “I’m famished.”

“A lady who knows her worth. Very well. I’ll order from the nice takeout place.”

I roll my eyes and head off to explore the house while Sean orders the food. My footsteps carry me up the twisting staircase that led to the second floor of our home and beyond that to the attic.

I will not visit the attic today. My return has thus far been free of hauntings, but I don’t wish to tempt fate too much.

Instead, I head to Annie’s room. I suppose it’s no surprise I am drawn to her memory more than I am drawn to the memory of my own childhood.

Annie is a year and a half younger than me, but I always see her as a child and myself as the mature one who must take care of her. That attitude led to some tension between us as we grew older, but I couldn’t help myself. Heaven knows our mother cared little for Annie, and our father was barely present later in our lives.

I push those memories away as I look through Annie's things. Dust and mold have rotted the covers and obscured the furniture, but the picture on her night table is the same as it was when she was eleven years old. I stare at that photograph for what seems like hours before Sean calls me down for dinner.

She is so beautiful and so brave, my Annie. I truly do hope she found happiness.

But her ghost, like all the rest, remains silent, and I am able to enjoy an evening with my beau before I fly to England in the morning for my next job.