The Gilded Cuff (14 page)

Drawn by his own curiosity, he leaned toward the window, placing his small hands against the glass, which was still warm from the long gone afternoon sun. His eyes flitted across the bank of trees, looking for whatever he’d glimpsed moments before.

A shape slithered out from behind the edge of the trees, the lights from the lawn just barely illuminating the outline of a terrifyingly tall man, clothed in black, with long limbs like a spider.

Emery gasped, heart slamming violently against his ribs, as though Fenn had knocked the breath out of him with a baseball bat to the lungs.

His twin sat up, hazel eyes suddenly alert, bright and wide with worry. “Emery?”

Wordlessly, he raised a hand and pointed at the figure. Fenn turned, and in that second whatever Emery had seen was gone.

“What?” Fenn scanned the trees, leaning on the window ledge.

Goose bumps dotted his skin and infinitesimal shivers crawled like ants up to his neck and down his spine. “I saw something.”

His brother rubbed palms over his own arms, as though plagued by the same sense of unease. They’d always shared feelings. Sometimes he was convinced they shared thoughts.

“Should we tell Mom?” Fenn’s voice cracked as he whispered the question.

Emery hastily shook his head. He didn’t want to look like a sissy. Their mom was great for rescuing them from some things. She could kill the nastiest spiders, and even got rid of icky girls at Fenn and Emery’s birthday parties when the frilly dressed little villains descended upon them during the cake eating. For that alone, she had his and Fenn’s undying loyalty, even if she was a grown-up and a girl.

But she didn’t need to know he was scared by shadows in the woods.

Fenn crossed his arms and his face settled into a stern expression, eyes narrowed. “You sure you don’t want to tell her?”

“You kidding? I’m not messing their party up, no way.” He raised his chin. “Besides, I’m not scared of shadows.”

“You were scared! I felt it!” Fenn accused.

“Nuh uh!”

Sometimes Fenn was such a blockhead.

“Were too!” Fenn leapt from the bed and socked Emery.

Retaliation was only natural. Mom always said, “Love thy brother,” which Emery now silently amended to “Punch thy brother,” and tackled his twin.

They collapsed, kicking, pulling t-shirts, and laughing.

“Emery! Fenn! Honestly!” A half-exasperated laugh froze them in mid-battle.

The twins turned their heads to the doorway. Their mother stood there, wearing a pale blue gown with a skirt that billowed out like the petals of a flower. Her blond hair rippled in long waves down her back, like a mermaid come to life from the book of fairy tales Nana read to them.

One pale brow was arched as she showed her disapproval. “You’re supposed to be eating dinner, boys.”

Even though she tapped the toe of her silver shoe like an impatient princess, a smile hovered at the corners of her lips. Emery’s heartbeat jumped and twisted over and over, like a bird with a broken wing. More goosebumps pebbled his skin and a chill worked its way up his spine with the ghostly touch of spider legs.

He needed to touch her, to be held by her. Pushing away from Fenn he ran the few short steps to his mother and hugged her. With a soft laugh of delight she returned the embrace.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, the contact simple yet so full of love. He squeezed her tighter, desperate to hold onto her. Some primal instinct warned him things were on the verge of disaster. He rubbed his cheek against his mother’s silk dress before glancing at Fenn.

Fenn was watching them, his body captured in the frame of the bedroom window. The forest below was lit up with Chinese lanterns as servants carried them out to the trees. The bobbing lights cast multicolored glows over where the shadow had once been. Rather than be reassured, Emery’s worry grew, gnawing at his stomach like a ravaging pack of wolves.

“Mom?” Fenn opened his mouth, but Emery silenced him with a faint shake of his head.

“Not now.” Emery mouthed. Even if he was worried, he didn’t want to ruin Mom’s party. Even though Fenn hadn’t seen the shadow, didn’t believe, he, as the eldest, often saw it as his duty to care for Emery. Emery hated that sometimes, but he wasn’t going to let Fenn’s sense of duty ruin the party.

Fenn sighed.

“Come here, Fenn.” Their mother held out an arm and Fenn joined in the embrace. Boys shouldn’t like hugging their mothers, but Emery didn’t care, not in that moment.

“Now. Both of you, downstairs. Eat your dinner and be nice to Nana.”

Mom shooed them down the spiral staircase. Emery raced Fenn into the large kitchen where a dark-haired woman a little older than their mother was setting out plates with sandwiches.

Nana’s dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun. Wisps threaded with faint silver, like Christmas tinsel, hung loose against her cheeks. Her eyes were black, the irises so dark that they blended with her pupils. She always had a ready smile, one she kept just for them.

Nana smoothed her hands over her pants and pointed to the barstools. “Sit, you two.”

“Nana, can I have a Coke?” Fenn asked, crawling up the tall wooden stool to sit at the huge marble island. Emery joined him, so their elbows knocked together. On the verge of scuffling again, they shot each other mutinous looks and simultaneously balled their fists.

“Emery,” Nana warned. She’d knocked their heads together more than once when they stepped out of line.

His cheeks flushed with heat. “Sorry.”

He and Fenn settled down to eat, sipped their sodas from the bottles and watched the guests pass by the kitchen windows. The Lockwood mansion’s kitchen had an ideal and rather unusual location in the house. One entire side of the kitchen had large windows that faced the gardens, giving the cooks something to watch when taking breaks between meals. There was one door that led directly outside to the gardens and it was on the left side of the room, near the walk-in pantry.

Outside, strains of music filtered through the air, mixing with the cicada songs and cricket symphonies. Muted laughter warmed Emery’s ears with the pleasant melody of happiness. Dad. Something was making him laugh.

Fenn’s eyes locked on the windows facing the gardens. “Nana, can we go outside? Puh-lease?”

“No Fenn, sweetheart. You boys ought to be in bed. You have tennis lessons tomorrow at eight-thirty.” Nana ruffled a hand through Fenn’s golden hair. He wrinkled his nose and pulled free of her touch like a disgruntled puppy. Emery snickered at the expression on his brother’s face.

Fenn narrowed his eyes and glared at Nana. “I’m not a sweetheart.” He used the imperious tone their father employed when answering his work phone in the study, sounding very stern, all businesslike and no nonsense.

Nana only grinned. The laugh lines around her mouth and eyes crinkled.

“So like your father. No wonder you drive your mother crazy.” She picked up the plates and set them in the sink before heading to the pantry. Fenn followed her, ready to argue his case.

Emery turned his attention back to the windows facing the gardens. Women danced on the marble patio, their gowns swirling around their ankles in bright colors. Men in suits held them, spinning them around and around, in a whirling world of light and life.

Suddenly the door leading in from the gardens opened and the only warning he had that something was wrong was Nana’s gasp and Fenn’s muffled cry. Emery turned just in time to see three men dressed in black and wearing masks enter the kitchen through the open doorway. The world around him came to a grinding halt. He was suspended in terror as he saw Nana rigid and scared. Fenn, eyes wide, was held prisoner by one of the men. The music from the party muted into near silence; the only sounds were the raging thunder of Emery’s heart and the scuffle of boots behind him. He tried to flee but a gloved hand clamped around his mouth, and an arm curled around his throat in a chokehold as he was hauled back into a huge body.

“Please!” Nana was gasping. “Please don’t hurt them. They’re only children!”

The man holding Emery swung around in the direction of Nana’s voice. Emery glanced wildly about, seeing his brother being held by the scruff of his neck, a hand silencing him too. A third man strode toward Nana, a black gun in his hand.

Cold black eyes, like onyx stones, fixed on Emery. The gun barrel pointed at him for a moment before the man turned back to Nana.

He was going to hurt her. Bile rose in Emery’s throat and he swallowed it down. He had to do something, anything.

An ancient instinct to survive surged through Emery. He clawed, hissed and fought like an angry bobcat. The arm around his neck tightened. Black spots grew in slow increments across his vision until he was on the edge of darkness. Aching pain swept through his arms and legs, then they went numb. Emery had no strength left to fight and only then did the hold on his neck ease. Glorious air flowed back into his lungs, and he gasped like a goldfish that’d accidentally leapt out of the bowl.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want? Money?” Nana’s arms were raised up in surrender, but her gaze kept flashing to the boys, checking to see if they were all right.

Emery wished he could tell her that he loved her too. But the hand around his mouth prevented any sound. Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them away, his vision blurry.

The armed man strode right up to Nana and without so much as a warning, struck her temple with the butt of his gun. She went down like a rock, blood splattering the white tile floor by her head. Emery’s throat burned as his strangled scream was silenced by the gloved hand.

“Stupid bitch,” the man with the gun muttered. “Come on, we’ve got the brats. Let’s go.”

He flicked the gun barrel toward the back door. Emery was lifted off the ground and held tight. Ahead of him he could see his brother was being carried the same way. They were halfway out the back door when Fenn somehow got loose and dropped to his feet. He scrambled backward and reached the knife block on the counter, pulling a blade out to swing at their attackers.

Fenn didn’t hesitate. He struck, sinking the knife deep in the leg of the man who’d carried him. The man bellowed and swung at him like an enraged man-eating black bear. Fenn ducked, and the man’s hand swiped the soda bottles off the counter.

The sharp explosion of glass made everyone freeze.

Everything happened so fast after that. The man with the gun skirted around the counter, caught Fenn by the throat, and ripped the knife away from his hand.

“You little bastard!” He backhanded Fenn, but didn’t release him. Fenn’s head snapped to the side. A red hand-shaped mark quickly formed across his cheek.

Trapped, immobile, silenced, Emery couldn’t scream, couldn’t move. He was unable to defend his brother. It was, to that point, the single worst moment of his life.

The lively sounds of the party offered a haunting backdrop to the horror before him. Their parents and guests were only a short distance away, yet all were unaware of what was happening. His captor moved outside, walking past the other man, who once again lifted Fenn.

Emery freed one hand, reaching for his brother.

A brush of fingertips, the reflection of agony and pain in his brother’s eyes, and then they were ripped away from each other and stolen from their home.

They left behind their last refuge, their world of adventure. Emery’s eyes blurred with tears as he fought for one last look behind him. The green glass from the bottles glinted and sparked in the waning light like emerald gemstones sprinkled with ruby drops of blood.

Emery’s lashes opened slowly. He had the strangest sense he’d awakened from a dream, rather than having just confessed the secret horror he’d suffered for the last twenty-five years. His gaze sought Sophie’s. Her chin rested on his chest, and large, diamond-sized tears hung precariously on the tips of her lashes. She blinked rapidly, cleared her throat, and spoke. Only a tiny waver betrayed the emotion she seemed desperate to hide.

“What did the men look like?”

“Two of them looked average. White men with brown hair and brown eyes. Could have been brothers. The third man…He was huge, or at least he seemed that way to a couple of eight-year-olds. He had dark hair with a hooked nose and black eyes. He had an accent. I couldn’t place it then, but now I know it was Italian. His name was Antonio. I never caught his last name, but I heard the others call him that when they thought Fenn and I were asleep.”

Emery closed his eyes. He concentrated at first on Sophie. She felt good on top of him. The air was thick with the mix of her natural scent and the shampoo from her hair. But he had to let it go. Had to focus on the memories.

“Where did they take you? Do you know?”

“One of the crumbling mansions about eight miles from here. It was abandoned, condemned. No one would look there for us, or have a chance of seeing us.”

“Tell me about the place they kept you.”

He summoned the memory and spoke aloud as it unfolded.

The walls were empty shells, the paint peeling and faded with the barest hint of color left. Trees grew between the cracks in the marble floors, the force of nature challenging the man-made structure. Ivy snaked up the crumbling banister of the stairs. Much of the second floor had been obliterated by the elements after so many years. Even as terror clamped vicious claws around his heart, Emery mourned the loss of the grandeur. It was like finding one of his favorite toys broken, knowing it could never be fixed, and the games he’d loved to play were forever ended.

The thick scent of rotted wood and decay filled his nostrils, the pungent combination further tainted by the smell of Fenn’s blood as their captors dragged them to a door beneath the stairs.