The Artisans (29 page)

“I think so,” Mags answers. “But what the hell?” She whispers, as though she thinks I can’t hear her.

“I don’t know.” He flips his dreads behind his back. “Let’s get her downstairs.” He pauses, his face twisting with worry. When Mags raises her face to his, he reaches for her, cups her cheek in his palm. “I love you,” he says. His eyes widen, as if it’s just hitting him he told the girl of his dreams his true feelings. “You two, I mean.”

Maggie’s head angles, eyebrows bunching.

I squeeze my eyes shut. If I could scream, I would. They’re lucky I don’t have the strength to knock their stupid heads together.

“I mean, I love you two guys,” Dane says, and then he tugs us both tightly against him.

At first I’m shocked when neither Jenny nor Jamis show up in their pj’s demanding an explanation. Then I remember they’re old, half-deaf, and the place is huge. I guess it’s not that surprising after all.

Maggie and I lie sprawled out on my bed. Three cups of warm chamomile tea and honey soothe my battered throat. I can whisper, but the muscles in my neck hurt like the blue blazes.

Dane rests in ‘Gideon’s chair,’ his feet propped up on the bed. His head tips back against the headrest. He’s been asleep for the last hour. I guess rummaging through ledgers dating back one hundred years isn’t the most exciting task. More than that, I think the adrenaline he used busting down the attic door wore him out. I’ve never seen him so scared. Not that I can’t relate.

After relaying what happened with Desiree and Cole upstairs, there’s no question to the reality of my situation, or my sanity. Neither Dane nor Maggie saw the ghosts, but their doubts are gone, and with the bruising on my neck, I’m more convinced than ever.

Maggie shifts toward me. The mattress gives under her elbow. “All I see here are lists of court cases. Names of what judge presided, the defendants, and rulings and sentences, but nothing about anyone named Desiree or Cole. This is boring as hell, and not really telling us what we need to know. I think you should rest.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? You can’t stay here anymore, sweetie. Dane was right all along, it isn’t safe.”

“I let Gideon kiss me yesterday, Mags.”

“Holy crap. That’s a fine thing to keep to yourself.”

“Yeah. Well, there hasn’t been a lot of time to tell you, what with my being stalked by murderous ghosts and all.”

“True enough. You’re forgiven. So, details, please. The boy is so very hot. Is he a good kisser? Because I’m betting he is.”

I allow a small smile. “He’s light-your-toes-on-fire good.”

“Hot damn, I knew it.”

“He told me Ben can stay here, until …you know. I might be in love with him, Mags.”

“Well … shit.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him.”

“Does he, you know, feel the same?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird between us. We’re not exactly normal couple material, are we?”

“Guess not, but what’s normal?” Maggie’s wistful tone pulls my attention from the ledger on my lap. I glance at Dane and shrug. “Yeah,” she says with a grin. “I caught that whole ‘I love you’ confession from him upstairs, by the way.”

My heart leaps into my throat. “What are you saying?”

She shakes the hair from her face. “That when Dane said he loved
us
, he meant
me
.”

“Halleluiah!” I shout-whisper, then regret it. Dane stirs and Maggie smacks my arm.

“Shut up. I’m going to help you find what you need, and tomorrow, Dane and I are going to have a big sit-down that ends with some serious making out. I hope.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“Nope, but I’m happy.” She glances at the sleeping giant next to us. “Really happy. I think it’s going to be okay—if we don’t kill each other.”

The heaviness around my heart lightens a bit, and I beam at her. Then another thought hits me, and my smile droops. “Do you … don’t hurt him, Mags.”

“Really?”

I flinch at her indignant expression. “Sorry. It’s just, you aren’t exactly—”

“A one-man woman?”

“Well, yeah.” I feel like a dog, but her track record for dumping guys out of boredom is one hundred percent. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Weathersby.” She readjusts the book lying open on her legs. “You love him, so do I. Always have, I just didn’t realize it until now. The guy’s been through hell with his family, yet he’s always been there for us.” Eyes shining, she nods, as though confirming her own thoughts. “He’s the best, sweetest, smartest, most decent guy I know. Hurting him would be like kicking a kitten off a cliff. He needs someone …” With a huff, her bangs fly up, settling again over her forehead. “I know what he needs. He needs me.”

“Yeah,” I say. A slow smile spreads across my face. “He does.” I wonder how Dane would react with being compared to a kitten. I think I’ll keep that tidbit to myself. I’m so relieved I’m almost giddy.

“All right, then. Now that that’s out of the way, what about you and Maddox?”

“We have some stuff to work out. First off, he’s in trouble. I think it has something to do with Desiree and Cole. Gideon mentioned magic along with his being an Artisan—whatever that even means. Initially, I thought he was joking or being poetic, but it’s more than that. I know it is, and he won’t talk to me. According to Cole, the answer is in these books. I won’t quit until I know the truth.”

“Gonna save him, too, are you? I’m going to start calling you Joan.”

“Who?”

“Joan of Arc.”

I smack her arm. “Stop it.”

Her smile fades. “No, really, I’m afraid for you, Rae. Enough is enough. If you don’t back down, you’re going to get hurt.”

“I won’t if we can get rid of Desiree. Cole says I can free them. I’m hoping that means Gideon, too. He’s mixed up in this and he’s almost as stubborn as I am. I know I don’t have much time. We need to keep reading.”

“Okay. But I’m doing this for you, not for them.” Maggie squeezes my arm. I thread my fingers through hers, and turn my attention back to the dusty ledgers.

***

Maggie sleeps at my side. It’s four in the morning, and both my friends are out cold. My eyes water with fatigue and my throat is raw and swollen, as though someone scrubbed it with steel wool. I set the ledgers down and stretch. My foot bumps Edgar at the end of the bed. He gives me a grouchy meow and shifts, revealing the diary I’d found in the bottom of the crate upstairs. I’d forgotten about that one. With a groan, I reach for it. Edgar complains as he slides off the end of the leather bound book. Too bad, dude.

I open to the first page and start reading.

Spring, 1865

Today, Gordon confided, while dressing me for dinner, that he overheard the cook and deliveryman discussing the death of Mrs. Lawrence. Her bruises apparently so plentiful, she was rarely seen in public this season. Having missed her presence at both the Sales Hollow Christmas Ball and the Johnson’s cotillion, I believe it must be true. My poor, sweet Emma.

I honored her right to choose Jonathan over me, but I will not stand idly by and see her murderer go free. That dog of a husband killed her, truth plain as day, and all because she could not carry a child to term. Pushing her around in her delicate condition, Jonathan Lawrence be the cause of the unborn deaths, too. I know Judge Patterson, the scoundrel. It’s rumored he accepted a bribe that let Jonathan go free.

I traveled to The Grey Horse Saloon again two weeks prior to this entry and met with one Professor Pan, the magician. No price is too high. He will give me the means to avenge her death, though the path gives me pause. It’s a clever plan, to send Jonathan through the rabbit hole where no one may follow. Were I to make a bargain with this devil, Pan, I’ll trade one evil for another. Even risk my soul. Yet your blood calls to me from the ground, dearest Emma, and I cannot bear the sound. Take heart, beloved. Jonathan is as vain as a peacock. The whole of Colleton County knows he cares more for his white gelding than you, my darling. Let them rot together, then.

I will stand in the graveyard of Pan’s ancestors and speak the words he gave me. Those with power enough to unlock the door between worlds. To bring justice. To be together again.

One simple photograph with the enchanted camera traps him for an eternity. A gilded frame will be his cell, the walls of my house, his jail. He will spend his prison sentence ruing the day he hurt you and crossed the man who truly loved you. The one whose heart you hold for all time.

Mathias Maddox

My pulse races. Mathias Maddox, I remember you. His portrait hangs in Gideon’s office along with all his other great, great, great, whatever grandfathers. What did you do, old Mathias? Who was this Pan and what did he sell you? The Judge mentions a camera. Gideon has a camera. An old one. I’ve seen it once in his office and downstairs, too. The day I met him, it was set up and pointed right at the door.

And he was expecting Ben.

Anger roils in my belly. What did you have in mind, Gideon?

My fingers tremble as I thumb forward and find an entry made by Judge Nathan Maddox, Gideon’s father.

2011

As decreed by my ancestors, I hereby record another use of the Camera.

Professor Gamble called. The boy Cole Wynter insists the accident wasn’t malicious, a prank gone awry, but this isn’t the first time. He’s been expelled for his crimes, but it’s not enough. Expulsion will not erase the humiliation my son experienced at Wynter’s hands all year, not to mention mine. Plans are set in motion to get the boy here. As an Artisan, I simply cannot allow the deed to go unpunished. The ruthlessness of his crimes is shocking, as he is a youth, but my actions are naturally warranted and necessary nonetheless.

Gideon’s come home, of course. I’ve promised he need not return to school. All I feel is anger and shame. Imagine my disgust, hearing my sniveling son admit that he has no friends. His weakness must invite such continuous abuse from other children. This time, an explosion in his locker burnt a third of the skin on his face.

The medical expenses I incur are nothing. I can’t have people staring at Gideon’s scars in addition to his loathsome limp. He is fragile, but he won’t stay that way. I’ve already employed the necessary people to toughen my gentle son. His mother’s influence, no doubt, God rest her soul.

My father would roll in his grave if he saw what I saw today. A Maddox male returned home from abroad, hung his head in my presence and cried.

It will never, ever happen again.

Nathan Maddox

Tears splash the page, my sheets, the back of my hand. The truth rolls across me like a gigantic wave, bowling me over. Artisans, Cole, Gideon, it’s like I see them all clearly for the first time. I can’t quite wrap my head around the forces drawing us all here, to converge at this one point in time.

I haven’t figured out how Desiree fits into the story yet, but I have a pretty good idea who to ask. She’s sweet, makes fantastic cookies, and knows a hella lot more than she’s admitted. Considering Desiree’s creepy confession in the attic about being into her own stepson, it’s not a stretch to think someone caught on to her less-than-motherly affections and took her picture. Sicko.

The anger I felt for Gideon drains, leaving me hollow and dry. Nathan Maddox was a monster. No pity. No compassion. How can a father hate the sight of his own child? Cole, a vicious kid who tortured Gideon at school, yet saved me, helping me on more than one occasion. I’m unsure of my feelings. There’s little time to process them either. Gideon will be home today, Desiree wants to kill me, and Ben is supposed to move here in a few days.

I shake Maggie and push Dane’s feet off the bed. “Wake up, you guys. I need your help.”

“Again?” Dane moans. His head lifts, one eye opening to a slit. It’s not a friendly slit.

“We’ve got some things to talk about. Then you and Maggie need to leave, go home, shower, and meet up again. You have things to talk about.”

“We do?” His other eyelid rises.

“Yes,” Maggie agrees, stretching. “We most definitely do.” There’s a sexy edge to her voice when she addresses Dane I’ve never heard before. Her tone is teasing, tantalizing. At least, she affects Dane that way because he hasn’t once shut his gaping mouth. He rubs his unshaven jaw against his shoulder, as if he’s developing a tic.

Overjoyed for my friends, I can’t help my grin. I know what’s coming for Dane later, and it’s going to knock his socks clean off.

His gaze darts from me to Mags and back. “What are you guys plotting, and why do I feel like I’m being set up?”

“Because you are.” Dane opens his mouth, but I talk over him. “Zip it, you’re in good hands. Before all that though, I have something to read to you. Trust me. You’re not going to believe this.”

“Should you be reading?” Dane’s eyebrows arc. “You sound like a hundred-year-old smoker with a Godzilla complex.”

Nice.

“Shut up, Dane. You’re always saying crap like that,” Maggie scolds. “You’ll make her feel bad.”

“I already feel bad.” I shove the diary into Maggie’s lap, flip to the first page, and point. “Read.”