Misfortune Cookie (The Ashworth Legacy Book 1)

by Casey Wyatt

  My palm curled around the glass. Coldness permeated my fingertips. The first gulp slid down my throat with ease, tart citrus tickling my tongue. The fog that had permeated my brain dissipated like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds.

  “Radiance.”

  “Luca?” I swirled around the room, searching. No one was there. I slumped into the wing-backed armchair. Christ. I was losing my mind.

  “Drink more lemonade.”

  I laughed with a slight tinge of hysteria. “I’m Alice. What’s next? A white rabbit?”

  “Hurry.”

  “No. The last time I listened to a voice in my head, I almost killed you.” Nausea cramped my stomach just thinking about it.

  “Please, cariad.”

  His urgent tone and heartfelt please decided it. I swallowed down the entire thing so fast I ended up slightly dizzy. I refilled it, eyes tracking the golden stream. As the liquid filled the glass, an image appeared on the surface.

  “Luca! What are you doing in there?” Giddiness simmered inside my chest, leaving me ridiculously euphoric. “And what the heck is in this lemonade?”

  “We’ve been locked out of the mansion.”

  “What do you mean ‘locked out’?”

  “The wards are preventing us from entering.”

  Huh?

  “Don’t gape, my sweet. You blocked us out. You need to let us back in.”

  I scrubbed my face. I had no idea what he was talking about. “Luca, I’m sitting here tripping the light fantastic. How do I fix this?”

  He chuckled, his lemony avatar amused. “Go to the library.”

  “Do I have to?” I hated it in there.

  “Take the glass of lemonade with you. Quickly, before the spell fades.”

  I didn’t wait to be told twice. I hustled down the hallway and took the elevator to the main floor. Normally, I used the stairs, but this time I didn’t want to chance tripping and dumping the contents.

  “When I get you back inside, you will explain all this to me, yes?” I asked, thankful no one could see me talking to a glass of lemonade. The elevator deposited me two doors down from the library. Once inside, I set the glass on Sebastian’s mammoth desk. I carefully avoided looking at his painting. My skin crawled. The room held too many unpleasant memories of being shot and tortured.

  “Go to the fireplace mantle. See that fancy carving of the family crest?”

  “Let me guess. Press the center.” Or some such nonsense. Even though I had mostly eschewed my family’s company, I knew my heritage. The crest had been around for at least a century. I’d heard rumors that the old man incorporated the symbols of royal European families. I didn’t buy it. The crest was too damned weird. The creature on the front was a winged beast unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

  Looking at it again, I wondered. It looked a lot like –

  “Radiance. Hey. Pay attention. Don’t touch the center. Feel underneath the bottom. There is a button flush with the surface. Press it.”

  I ran my fingers along the carved surface. And there it was. With a soft snick, the button pushed in. The floor rumbled, shooting vibrations through the soles of my feet. I stepped back, expecting the fireplace to swing open.

  “Now what?” I called over to the glass.

  “Go to last bookcase on the left. No, the one on your other left.”

  Yeah, direction was never my strong point. I picked up the glass and circled the perimeter of the library to my left side. There it was. A shelf that was no longer flush with the wall. I gave a small headshake. Really, why was I surprised that Sebastian had his own sancto sanctorum? Selene and I had always suspected. Turns out we were right.

  “Once you go inside, there is a panel to your immediate right. You can’t miss it. The stone is like the one Joanna brought to your house.” Luca’s avatar said, noticeably faded.

  I shoved the shelf open. Excessive use of force wasn’t necessary. It swung open easily. I stumbled forward, holding the glass upright. The liquid sloshed against the sides but didn’t spill. The lighting system must have been tied to the door because I didn’t have to fumble around for a switch.

  “I see the stone.” I hovered my palm over surface. “And?”

  “Touch it like you’re going to read from it and will it to allow us to pass the wards.”

  I hesitated. I hated touching Sebastian’s artifacts. The results could be unpredictable. I squared my shoulders. Luca wouldn’t ask for shits and giggles. The stone was surprisingly warm under my skin. Power hummed underneath it.

  “Open sesame,” I said with feeling. Itchy sensations spiked through the brand, a thousand tiny tickles, then something shifted. Or rearranged would be more accurate.

  “Seriously, woman,” Luca laughed from behind me. “You never cease to surprise me.”

  I turned to face him. “Is that really you this time?”

  He closed the distance between us. “Feel for yourself.” His kiss was deep and fierce, like he couldn’t get enough of me.

  There was a polite cough. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have business to take care of.”

  Luca broke the kiss. “Sod off, Julian.”

  Fuzz gone from my brain, I glanced down at my clothes. Ugh, dirty PJs worn for the last several days. I gave myself a sniff. Not exactly roses. Lord knew what my hair looked like. Rat’s nest was probably a generous description. I covered my mouth with my hand. Poor Luca. I’d kissed him with dragon breath.

  He chuckled. “You’re always beautiful to me.”

  For some reason, that sentiment mortified me even more. “Be right back.”

  I ran out of there and didn’t speak to either of them until I’d showered and brushed my teeth. Twice.

  All that grooming turned out to be productive in more ways than one. It had given me a chance to assess the situation. First off, I decided to deal with the more immediate issue—the Jiang Shi. Second, Luca—I’d wait and watch. And lastly, the legacy would be my long-term project. The Ashworth fortune was mine, and all of the personal property, too. In my spare time, I’d start hunting through Sebastian’s secret lair.

  “All right, gentlemen. I’ve done some thinking.”

  Julian and Luca looked up when I entered the library. They were, notably, sitting across from each other, as if a truce had been struck, but neither of them would be singing campfire songs together anytime soon.

  Whatever. As long as they quit sniping like teenage girls, I didn’t care what deal they’d negotiated.

  “Julian, you’re off of my shit list for the moment. I have bigger and badder things to worry about than what you haven’t been telling me.” I seated myself behind Sebastian’s desk, the thick leather-bound chair nearly swallowing me.

  Looking visibly relieved, he nodded. “I appreciate that. Truly, I am sorry for my silence.”

  I pursed my lips and kept the snarky comment I wanted to make trapped between my teeth. I’d decided to move forward. Telling Julian that I thought he was full of shit wouldn’t be helpful.

  Luca snapped the book he was eyeballing shut. He projected a disaffected air that I was pretty sure was an act. I nibbled my bottom lip, thinking about our intimate moment in the Hereafter. Those skilled fingers. That soft mouth. Heat suffused my cheeks. He gave me a small, knowing smile.

  I cleared my throat. No way was I discussing my relationship, or whatever it was we had going, with Julian there.

  First, I needed one nagging question answered. “How did the Jiang Shi attack me in the Hereafter?”

  Luca frowned and crossed his arms. “Sneaky bastard slipped a thorn either into your clothes or shoes. Once you arrived, it planted itself and stayed undercover until the right moment presented itself. I have alerted the realm’s guardians of the hole in their defenses.”


  “I imagine they weren’t pleased,” Julian said.

  “No. That is an understatement.” He stared at Julian for a moment as if he wanted to say more.

  I balled my fists, nails digging into my palms. Not only had that thing slipped me a supernatural Trojan horse, it nearly succeeded in using me to kill Luca. “Any ideas why the Jiang Shi keeps attacking us?”

  “Perhaps. While you were otherwise occupied, I took the liberty of searching available records. We already know that the Jiang Shi is someone’s vengeful ancestor. The Chinese believe that homage must be paid to the deceased, otherwise they will be displeased and haunt you in this life,” Luca said.

  “So, fail to bury Aunt Pearl properly and she will come back to eat you?” I tapped my fingers on the desk. Something nagged at the back of my mind. That day in Tien Shaw’s office.

  “Exactly like that. Or forget to honor your ancestors each year with proper respect and ritual. There are several ways to insult them.”

  Several things didn’t add up for me. “Could someone purposely summon an ancestor?”

  “And more importantly,” Julian added, “could that person control it?”

  Luca shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m no expert here. But it does seem like the victims were targeted.”

  “Ya think? The red fortune cookies seem like a big ‘come get me’ sign.”

  “I agree.” Luca paced in front of the fireplace. Sebastian’s portrait seemed to follow him with disapproving eyes. That thing had to go. It creeped me out. Luca stopped, pivoted, and faced me. “One more thing. Unlike many of the spirits we deal with, they are anchored to an object.”

  “What kind of object?” Julian asked.

  “It could be anything, but I believe it’s related to burial.”

  An alarm rang in my head. “Like an urn?” I sprang out of the chair. “We have to go. I know where we can find one.”

  Timing is like location in real estate—all important.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d spent less time sulking in bed and more time paying attention, we could have saved Tien Shaw from being shredded.

  “This is awful,” I said, sidestepping the pool of blood haloed around his torso. The only reason I hadn’t completely lost it and run from the room was Luca’s firm grip on my elbow. As it was, cold sweat coated my skin along with the ever-present urge to puke.

  “Don’t be sick. Be angry instead,” Luca growled next to my ear. “This thing is an abomination.”

  Right. I tried to summon some righteous anger, my gaze taking in the horror. The dismembered head lay facedown on Tien’s table. The boxes of family heirlooms had been flattened like pancakes. If the jar had been here, it was long gone.

  Poor Tien. He didn’t deserve this.

  Yep. I waited for the anger. I finally did lose it when I saw his right hand curled around a photograph. With a large swallow, I looked. Between the bloody fingers there was a picture of a smiling girl. A ballerina, proudly posing. Tears blurred my vision.

  “His daughter?” I choked, unable to look any longer. Despair threatened to hollow me out.

  “Yes,” Luca said, voice tight.

  That poor little girl. I knew what it was like to have no parents. Fury erupted from me with volcanic force. I clamped my hand around Tien’s dead palm and opened my senses.

  Come on, you bastard. I gritted my teeth and rode the wave of images that barreled over me. I’d never tried my power on the flesh of the dead. Always on objects. The sensory overload was exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time. The dark, fearful details of Tien’s death sped by too quick to take in, yet the moment was slow enough for me to be scarred for life.

  While my mind couldn’t process the visuals that fast, the auditory part of my brain worked. The unremitting cries, the sobs for mercy, the squish of torn flesh were replayed with shocking clarity.

  With effort, I was able to push past those events, seeking something tangible. A clue to where the Jiang Shi was headed next. Or even better, was someone controlling it?

  Time advanced forward. Tien dead, ripped open. The Jiang Shi feasted on his heart with malicious glee. Unable to close my eyes or look away, I watched, wondering if my astral self could puke. Heart consumed, the spirit knelt over Tien’s detached head, removed a white square from its blood-stained garments. In a motion almost too quick to see, it placed the paper on Tien’s forehead then dropped his severed head on the table like a half-eaten apple where it rolled twice before stopping facedown.

  Black fog tunneled my vision, the room faded, then blinked out of sight.

  “Radiance!” Luca shook me by the shoulders, rattling my teeth.

  “Quit it. I’m fine.” I circled around the table and plucked a pen out of the pencil holder. Surprisingly, it had remained standing upright, contents un-spilled.

  “What are you doing?” Luca joined me.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t leave any prints.” Using the pen, I pushed the head until it shifted sideways. Careful not to completely roll it over, I peered around until I saw the piece of paper. “Can you peel that off?”

  Luca carefully drew the thin paper away. No bigger than a standard sticky note, tiny Chinese characters were written in three neat vertical rows.

  “Are we good?” he asked, pocketing the paper.

  I wiped down the pen, returned it to the cup, then took his hand. “I’m good.”

  Power tugged at me and a moment later, Luca whisked us away.

  One stomach-lurching ride later and we were back at Ashworth Mansion. Luca, generous man that he was, landed us in my bedroom. As soon as my feet touched the floor, I raced to the bathroom and threw up. Wretched and shivering, he wiped my face with a cool washcloth and rubbed my back until I felt strong enough to walk.

  Oddly, I craved the taste of lemons. And even though I’d just hurled, I was delighted to find a piece of lemon meringue pie waiting for me. Luca stood, leaning in the bathroom’s doorway, arms crossed, watching me silently while I ate the pie.

  “Wow. That hit the spot.” I chased it down with a glass of sparkling water. Only then did it dawn on me. “What’s the deal with the lemon cravings? And, you used lemonade to get my attention earlier.”

  “It’s one of those odd quirks. Many Redeemers crave certain foods after they’ve used their powers extensively. I’ve been paying attention to your habits after all our training sessions. I never imagined having to actually use lemon to get your attention.”

  I eyed the empty plate and considered calling for another piece. “So Meadows is in on it too?”

  “He’s been Sebastian’s employee forever.”

  “What was Gramp’s thing?”

  Luca smiled broadly. “Watermelon.”

  Gut-busting laughter tore through me. I laughed so hard it hurt. “He hated watermelon.”

  “Yes. So I had to hear.”

  “Were you with him a long time?” Come to think of it, I’d never seen Luca before that day in the library. But then, I’d also been avoiding the old man for the past several years. So it was entirely possible that I’d missed him.

  “No. Only in the weeks preceding his end.” Luca stared out the window, his body language clammed up as sure as if a button was on his mouth.

  “If we’re meant to be together, shouldn’t you be more forthcoming with me?”

  His shoulders relaxed, but his posture remained ramrod straight. “Cariad, there are some things I’m not able to discuss with you.”

  “Like you’re not at liberty to say? Or you flat out can’t.”

  “I can’t speak them.”

  Ah, the same line Julian gave me. He turned around. The stark expression and hollow gaze told me what I needed to know. He was telling me the truth. God, I really hated all this otherworld politics shit.
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  “I sense your frustration. Believe me. I do get it.” Luca closed the distance between us. He stroked my cheek and with tenderness said, “I will never knowingly hide the truth from you.”

  His lips brushed against mine. With even that slight touch, my body bloomed for him. I angled his head closer and captured his lips. They easily parted for my tongue to taste him. Greedy for more, I ran my hands down his back. He moaned, then gently pushed me away.

  “I hate to stop. But we need to finish the mission.”

  Crap. I nodded mutely. Tien’s daughter in her ballerina outfit popped into my mind. Shame filled me. In some ways, I remained a selfish rich girl. I hated that girl.

  “Can you read Chinese?” I asked hopefully. He could speak it.

  Luca fished the bloodied paper out of his pocket and smoothed it onto the table. He stared at it for ages, then ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know this dialect. Julian!”

  I dropped into the chair across from him. “Seriously?”

  “You rang?” Julian appeared next to the table, then frowned when he saw the paper. “Can’t read that, can you, Alkhari?”

  “Stop it, Julian,” I chastised. “Can you read it or not?”

  He whistled. “Of course I can. Give me a moment. The script is tiny and my eyes aren’t getting any younger.”

  I arched an eyebrow. There was no reason to point out that he was a ghost and that it couldn’t possibly matter.

  “This is a list of names . . .” His voice trailed off. “Everyone except two are dead.”

  “Who are they?” I leaned forward and squinted at the characters. Like that would somehow make me suddenly able to read them.

  “These are the Misfortune Cookie murder victims.” Julian hung his head as he walked away.

  Luca called after him. “Wait! Who is still alive?”

  My stomach dropped to the floor, my gut not liking where the line of questioning was headed.