Broken Heart 07 Cross Your Heart (11 page)

I had to admit I felt the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I couldn’t put my finger on the source of my uneasiness. Even with the lights on, the place felt somehow murky. It was almost like it shouldn’t exist at all. I had the overwhelming feeling someone, probably my own ancestor, had invited evil into this house. Evil that had been trapped until Gabriel and Patsy’s zest for re-modeling opened it all up again.

“Elizabeth.”

I didn’t like the awful tone of Tez’s voice, or the fact he’d used my full name. I’d gotten quite used to his playful nicknames. I felt much like the misbehaving child whose irritated parent had called out my full name in reproach. Truly, there was no reproach in his tone, just a terrible dread.

Tez stood at the far end of the main room, staring through another doorway. I knew I wouldn’t like what he wanted to show me. All the same, I joined him. The door had been propped open with a barrel that smelled like sour pickles. For all I knew those were the exact contents. It wasn’t as well lit as the main room, but that was a blessing.

“It looks like a museum.” I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t even want to breathe its fetid air. Somehow I knew the silver box had come from in there.

“This smells like…” Tez took another whiff and frowned. “I don’t get it. The guy who attacked you in the forest—he smelled like this. He came from here. I don’t know how, but he did. Or spent a lot of time in this room.”

“But… you said you didn’t catch his scent.”

“It wasn’t enough of an imprint to track him. But I got up close and personal, and his flesh had this same smell.”

I felt my knees buckle. “Oh, my God. Gabriel.”

Tez’s arm went around my shoulder and he pulled me close. “You mean the dude pretending to be Gabriel.” He nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“This ghost or shadow or bogeyman can take someone’s form.” The idea was terrifying. How would anyone know who was really who? “Gabriel was right. We’re dealing with a doppelganger.”

“Seems so.”

“Why would it encourage Patsy to come up here and go through everything?” I asked. “Surely his main goal had been freedom.”

“Obviously not,” said Tez. “We don’t know his motivations. Maybe he’s pissed off about being trapped.” He frowned. “He’s gotta be looking for something. Why else would he keep returning?”

The questions were piling up. “Why did he convince Patsy that Gabriel was cheating on her?” I asked. “Why did he push her to go crazy?”

“Did he?” asked Tez. “Maybe she was already unstable. Maybe some part of her knew the doppelganger wasn’t her husband and she finally took action. She said he was trying to kill her—maybe he was. I bet it surprised the shit out of him when she stabbed him with her fancy blade.”

I stared at Tez, foreboding twisting my belly. “He took another form.”

“Slow down there, Sherlock,” he said. “This is all supposition. We don’t have any evidence, and there’s no reason to panic until we actually know what we’re dealing with. He could’ve slithered out of the hospital and holed up somewhere to recover. No matter what kind of freak he is, he would still have to heal from grievous wounds.” Tez gave me a reassuring squeeze and said, “I got shot a few years ago. I normally heal very fast, but I damned near died so it took me a while to get my strength back. I couldn’t shift. I guess it was my body’s defense mechanism. What I’m saying is that maybe the same thing applies to our bogeyman. Maybe getting knifed slowed him down.”

“More supposition,” I said. “He wasn’t so injured that he couldn’t leave the hospital.”

“But he also left some of his muck behind. Maybe it’s his version of blood.”

“Or another bodily fluid.”

“True. Who knows what’s really oozing outta that guy.” He grasped my hand. “C’mon. Let’s go explore the little shop of horrors.”

“Joy of joys.”

He grinned at me, then slipped through the doorway, and I followed, clutching his hand harder than necessary.

Unlike the clutter of the previous space, everything in here was in order. Except for the dust and the terrible smell permeating the air, it was clean and tidy. Five shelves made from rough-hewn wood were arranged against the wall to our left. Only the middle shelving unit held any objects. On the opposite wall was a workspace. A table bolted to the wall ran the entire length of it; above the empty table various tools and other implements were fastidiously arranged. Five trunks were pushed against the wall facing us. All were locked and none had been pried open.

“Whatever sick asshole used this place had an obsession with the number five,” said Tez. He pointed to the shelves, the trunks, and even the insidious tools. “Each unit has five shelves, and look at the one in the middle—each shelf used to hold five items on each one.”

The objects seemed randomly placed, nothing grouped in a way that made sense to me. Tez was right. Each shelf was missing an item, which was obvious from the impression left in the thick dust.

“Five trunks,” said Tez. “And the tools are split into five sections—with five tools in each section. This is fucking creepy.”

Something niggled at me. The idea of “five” was familiar, but as was the case when trying to remember an important fact, it immediately escaped me. I stopped concentrating so hard. I knew that if I let go now, whatever it was would become clear at an unexpected moment.

Tez plucked the jewelry box from his pocket and walked to the first one. “Look.” He placed the box on the second narrow ledge down; it fit perfectly atop a square marked in the dust layer.

“All these items are small,” I said. “None of those things locked in the prison belong here.”

“Maybe Patsy figured out something was up before she lost her marbles and was trying to figure out what needed to be nullified.”

“Or the shadow man did it. Maybe those things affect him in some negative way.”

Tez looked at me, concern lighting his gaze. “Good call, Ellie Bee. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

Even after looking everything over and puzzling over the dust imprints, neither Tez nor I could figure out what might be missing.

“How did you get the box?” asked Tez.

“Rand brought it to me. He’s dating MaryBeth, the nanny, so he’s over here all the time. He said Patsy wanted me to have it.”

“More like our unseen nemesis. Maybe he wanted other people to have some presents, too,” said Tez. “Four others, I bet. But who?”

I shook my head. “It’ll be easy enough to figure out if anyone who received one of these… um, gifts, has had the same kind of trouble I’m having. I’ve never seen a ghost before, much less been attacked by one. Or been directed to find a grave, either.

“If only we had some information about the town. I know it’s been more than a century, but you would think a newspaper or diary would turn up somewhere.”

“Maybe it was deliberate,” said Tez. “How’s this for supposition, princess? Something big and bad happened in town and the people who lived here at the time went through a lot of trouble to cover it up.”

It seemed a logical conclusion—as logical as was possible given how much we didn’t know about this room, the ghost, or the doppelganger. Was the spirit able to create human forms? I’d never heard of such a thing. And the person who might know was passed out cold in her prison cell. But what if it was a demon? And if so, why would it care a whit about me, or the other Elizabeth?

Maybe we were dealing with two different problems that had converged from different points. Or even worse, we were dealing with two different entities with the same purpose. And I was right in the middle of it.

Had my family, and the other founding families of Broken Heart, done something so awful it had created paranormal repercussions all these years later? Was that why my great-grandfather bought a manse in south Tulsa—the same home my parents lived in now—to escape what had happened here so long ago? And was that why Uncle Josiah had finally fled to Alaska? Had he lived and died alone because he’d been tormented by whatever lived in the attic?

“We should go to my parents’ house,” I said. “When my great-grandfather moved to Tulsa, he took a lot of heirlooms. It could be that valuable information is tucked away in some antique bureau or in his old papers. My family keeps everything.” I knew for certain that my grandfather’s room had been kept intact and was rarely used by my parents.

“Good idea,” said Tez.

My mind was already racing ahead, past the research I knew must be done at my parents’ home. Luckily, they had gone to Europe, again, and no one would be home to bother me with questions. I did so hate Mother’s queries—and she would certainly have a thing or two to say about Tez. I loved my parents, but they could be such snobs.

I was thinking now about the story Jessica had told me about how the town had gotten its name. Before the town had incorporated, Mary McCree, despairing because her husband had been unfaithful, drowned herself in the creek. Jessica said that before Mary had completed the terrible act, she cursed the place, saying that anyone who dared to live and love here would know her heartbreak.

Her daughter demanded the place be called Broken Heart, as penance for her mother’s death.

I didn’t know if the story was true; oral histories weren’t always accurate. Without newspapers or other confirmation, we couldn’t know for sure. However, when the Consortium had swept into Broken Heart and rescued those of us killed by Lorcan, Broken Heart had the highest rate of divorces and unwed mothers in the state. I couldn’t help but throw those facts into the mix and wonder about their implications.

Coincidence?

Or the curse?

“What are you thinking, Ellie?” asked Tez.

At least he’d left off the “Bee” part.

“About the Broken Heart curse.” I told him about Mary McCree and how, as everyone generally believed, the town had been named.

“You think the bones you found were hers?”

“No,” I said. “I think I found Elizabeth.”

“And she is…”

I shook my head. “You know how they say many myths start with a seed of truth?”

“You mean like all those legends about werewolves and vampires?”

“Ha, ha. But, yes, that’s what I mean. Maybe the Broken Heart curse is real. Maybe it was trapped in this room, and when Patsy and Gabriel broke inside here, they released it.”

“That’s a helluva leap. Now it’s not a ghost or a demon, but a… a living curse? I liked it better when we decided you’ve got a ghost after you.”

“Or a really annoying demon,” said a female voice from the doorway.

We turned. Neither Tez nor I had heard the approach of others. “Phoebe! Connor!” I hurried to my friends and gave them both a hug. “You certainly got here fast.”

“Connor’s got the transport mojo,” said Phoebe. “And it sounded urgent. Especially since Patsy is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

“Hey, I like her,” said Tez.

Connor’s brows rose and a proprietary hand snaked around his wife’s waist. Wasn’t testosterone delightful? Humph.

I made the introductions, and then Tez and I stepped aside while Connor and Phoebe examined the room.

“Five of everything,” said Connor, his Scottish accent thick. “Ach. Not good.”

“Really weird vibe here,” added Phoebe.

I felt like a hot brick slid from my chest into my stomach. “Demonic?”

“Sorta,” said Phoebe. “I’ve never felt this kind of energy before.”

“ ’Cause it’s ancient,” said Connor, “an’ rare.” He glanced at me, and the look in his eyes frightened me. “The obsession with five makes me think we’re dealin’ with Mammon.”

“What’s a Mammon?” asked Tez. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close, but I wasn’t sure if he meant to comfort me, or himself.

“He’s a prince of the underworld, like my father, but much, much older. Most of the demons that have been around as long as Mammon are… Well, I guess asleep is the word. Demon offspring aren’t born like humans. They’re created from the energy of the ancients deep in the Pit. Then many of ’em spend centuries climbin’ into the upper levels, and some break through on the earthly plane.” He gestured around the room. “But someone invoked Mammon’s power.”

“You mean there’s an ancient demon walking around Broken Heart?” I was horrified. About a year ago, the entire town had been attacked by a demon named Lilith and a legion of her demons. Thanks to Phoebe and Connor, as well as help from the goddess Morrigu, Lilith had been defeated.

Connor shook his head. “Mammon wouldna leave the Pit. The ancient demons are Hell, if that makes any sense. Their energy creates an’ sustains other demons. Ancients… I suppose you’d say they specialize in darker qualities, and those traits create the purpose of their children.”

“And Mammon’s purpose?”

“The original demon of greed,” said Connor. “In all its forms. Greed has many facets—money, love, ownership.”

“So greed could turn into lust or into jealousy?” I asked.

Connor nodded.

“If this demon is as badass as you say,” said Tez, “then what would entice him to give away some of his power? A human called on Mammon, right?”

My thoughts aligned with Tez’s. Someone who lived in Broken Heart more than a hundred years ago—someone who thought they needed help to get what they wanted—had invoked a demon.

Like Jeremiah Silverstone.

Dear God. Had my ancestor brought down the wrath of a demon on himself and this town? I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept. I was the one who’d suggested the curse had been released, but I hadn’t realized how close my supposition might be to the truth.

“Sacrifice interests Mammon,” said Connor. “Nothing less than a blood offerin’ woulda made him take notice. After that… I dinnae know.”

“Well, if Mammon’s not really here, then what’s walking around Broken Heart?” asked Tez.

“He probably sent a shadow.” Connor examined the shelves, frowning. “Shadows are reflections of their creator. Same qualities. Same desires. They tend to be obsessive.”

“Like collecting the same number of objects over and over?” asked Tez.

“Exactly,” answered Connor. “And Mammon’s shadows are particularly obsessed with the number five.”