The handle of the old knife slipped against my palm, slick from years of use. Judah no doubt carried the knife in his pocket every day, handled it frequently for a dozen uses, an all-purpose tool. Strong memories washed over me, and I saw Judah sitting behind his desk, slitting envelopes open with his knife, cutting the twine from packages, trimming his nails. I caught the scent of pipe smoke, leather, and bay rum.
The knife witnessed the minutia of Judah’s life, absorbing his resonance over decades. I struggled to make sense of the onslaught of remembered moments, looking for clues to reveal the murderous specter who had tried to push me down the stairs.
Determination. Strength of will. Cold, hard purpose. Never-say-die stamina. Clear-eyed practicality, unfettered by sentiment. Judah embodied all those attributes, wrapped in a resolute and single-minded drive to achieve. Beneath everything, I sensed ruthless anger. Judah was an ice cold son of a bitch.
I knew that Teag felt what I felt, through the spell-woven cloth that we both held. Later, we’d compare notes on what we saw. Now, I held tight to the pocketknife, determined to glimpse something that might reveal what bound Judah to his mansion and fueled his fury.
I slowed my breath and sank deeper into a trance, willing myself to read more from the images supplied by the knife. A woman’s face emerged, and I recognized her from the old photos as Judah’s wife. Other scenes flickered, of business meetings and intense conversations in wood-paneled offices and dark back alleys. More than once, I glimpsed blood. Judah was willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals, and people who got in his way got hurt.
One memory felt especially laden with importance, and I turned my attention toward its flickering images. Judah spoke with a thin man in a black suit whose back was turned to me. I could not hear their voices, but from the intensity of Judah’s expression and the fire blazing in his eyes, I knew I witnessed a pivotal moment. Judah said something to his visitor, then leaned over to sign a ledger on his desk. When he looked up, his gaze held a mixture of victory and finality--and fear. The last impressions happened in a blur of movement and pain. I saw Judah start down the stairs in Boyce House, felt his anger and fear surge as something shoved him hard from behind, and saw the reflection of his fall in the large hallway mirror as his body tumbled in a tangle of limbs to lie broken and bleeding at the bottom of the steps.
“Cassidy!” Teag’s voice brought me back to myself, and I came out of the vision with a start. “You okay?”
I nodded, trying to clear my head. “You saw all that?”
“Yeah. He was a real hard-nosed guy. Not exactly Mr. Personality.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I think the scene at the end was the most important, but I don’t know why. It felt urgent and... dangerous.”
“Agreed—but I’ve got no clue what the big deal was,” Teag agreed. He pushed my iced tea toward me, and I took a gulp, calming my nerves. “Ready to look at one of the other pieces?”
I took a few deep breaths. “Sure. Let’s see what Aunt Alice’s ring can tell us.”
Teag pulled the ring box out and opened it, then slid it over to me. A silver signet ring sat on a silk cushion. Delicate filigree decorated the sides, and the monogram “ABS” worn but readable in the center of the ring.
Anger and longing hit me like a punch to the gut. Strong passions swirled through my mind as the face of a petite, dark-haired woman came into focus. Alice’s delicate features suggested fragility, but her eyes glinted with the same steel I saw in Judah’s gaze. She moved with energy and purpose, and while I could not hear her words, from the reactions of those she addressed, I gathered that Alice did not mince words.
Another image came into focus, a handsome man with blond hair and startlingly blue eyes. I knew from the first glimpse of this young man that he was Alice’s ill-fated lover and that the desire to acquire him consumed her. A montage of memory fragments swept through my mind, of Alice checking her reflection in the hallway mirror before dances and dinner parties, of carriage rides and stolen kisses, tracing the steps as Alice won over her beau.
I dug deeper and found myself in a dark garden. The smell of gardenias hung heavy in the air. Alice stood in the moonlight, talking to someone who stood in the shadows. A shiver ran down my spine. Alice’s unseen visitor filled me with foreboding, and I recoiled instinctively. The scene changed, and I saw Alice sitting at a writing desk, and an ebony fountain pen moving smoothly over paper. She signed her name with a flourish and looked up to stare out the window with an expression filled with triumph and sorrow.
Once again, Teag called me back to myself. This time, he pressed the cup of coffee into my hand. “You with me?”
I gulped the coffee, eager for its sugar and caffeine to replenish the energy the visions drained. “I will be. You still tuned into the same channel?”
“Loud and clear. Did you get the feeling that Alice met someone in the garden—someone who didn’t want to be seen?”
I nodded. “Yeah. And I wish I could have gotten a better look at what she had in front of her on the desk. I got the sense that it was very important to her.”
Teag grimaced. “Too bad it wasn’t a prenup. Might have saved her dowry from that loser she married.” He shot me a worried glance. “You sure you’re up to one more?”
“Nothing short of a good night’s sleep is going to make me feel better, so we might as well get it over with,” I replied, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m still hoping Sorren will show up. He’s been in Charleston almost from its founding—maybe he’s heard something about the Boyce family.”
Teag put Esther’s necklace on the table in front of me. I gripped one end of the woven strip in my left hand, and let the fingers of my right hand touch the elegant silver and onyx pendant.
The touch sent me reeling. I saw Esther looking back at herself in the huge hallway mirror dressed in 1940s-era clothing. Her eyes looked haunted as if dark dreams and worry kept her from a sound sleep. I glimpsed a picture of a good-looking man in a pilot’s uniform and a memory of a hurried wedding. Newspaper headlines chronicled heavy fighting, and I felt Esther’s fear clutch my own heart so tightly I could not breathe.
Pages filled with Esther’s neat handwriting gave her something to do, and I recognized the journals I’d just read where she chronicled her fears for the safety of her beloved. I could feel Esther’s fierce independence and the indomitable streak of will that ran in the Boyce family. I could also sense her disquiet, as she argued with herself over a decision that kept her from sleeping and never strayed far from her thoughts.
The war brought hard times, and bad news from the front. Esther’s stubborn refusal to give in kept the business afloat, but the family’s fortunes diminished, adding to her worry. I saw her at the desk in a business office late at night, the room lit by a single lamp, Esther’s pinched features shadowed by an accountant’s eyeshade as she poured over ledgers.
And then one night, I knew Esther was not alone in the office. I saw Esther argue passionately with someone I could not see, felt the fear and worry come to a head, and then sensed Esther’s resignation and despair as she filled out a sheet of paper with a flourish of that same black fountain pen and handed the unseen stranger one of the ledger books. After that, the images flashed by like a manic slideshow and I saw her aviator beau return, only to slide into despondency and alcohol. I saw Esther kneel weeping in a cemetery next to a tombstone with the carving of a lamb, and sensed heartbreak settle deep to become a dull, furious ache that grew more bitter as the years went on.
Get out! Once again, Esther’s voice screamed in my mind, and I recoiled. Get out all of you, out, and stay out of this cursed place!
When I came back to myself, Teag was patting my cheeks with a cold, damp cloth. I sagged against the back of the chair with a shaky breath. “There goes my fearless reputation,” I joked in a weak voice.
Teag gave me an encouraging smile. “I think it’s pretty damn fearless going into those visions when you k
now they’re going to kick your ass.”
“What did you make of that?” I asked, thinking that I was about ready for a slug of bourbon after all we had seen.
Teag sat back when he was sure I would be all right, and pursed his lips as he thought. “Esther seemed the most level-headed of the three of them,” He mused after a moment. “She didn’t seem as ruthless as Judah, or as flighty as Alice. She struck me as a strong woman trying to make the best of a bad situation.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “In fact, I’m kind of surprised Esther’s one of our ghosts,” I added. “I get why Judah’s spirit would hang around—he was a cold bastard, and he was murdered in the house. Alice was despondent and killed herself. But Esther died of old age. Her tragedies happened seventy years ago, and she soldiered on long afterward. So why haunt the place?”
A soft rapping at the back door jolted us both to attention. I let my athame slip into my hand, just in case, as I went to answer the knock, and relaxed when I saw Sorren in the alley behind the shop.
“Good to have you back,” I greeted as Sorren stepped into the room, and Teag gave him a wave in welcome.
“Nice to be here,” he replied. Sorren looks like a twenties-something grad student, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with his blond hair cut in a trendy style. But one look in those grey eyes the color of the sea before a storm, but it’s easy to see his real age. Even he can’t hide the weight of centuries. “I got your text message. Fill me in.”
Sorren sat down at the table while I caught him up on our tour of the Boyce House and what Teag and I learned from the objects, letters, and journals. While I talked, Teag scrolled through messages on his phone. He let out a low whistle.
“Guess it’s a good thing Parker Jackson won those big contracts,” Teag observed. “He’ll need the money. His office building just burned to the ground.”
“That’s terrible,” I replied. “Anyone hurt?”
“Just Jackson himself—the news report says he was taken to the hospital with serious burns.”
Sorren looked up sharply. “Am I correct that Jackson recently had a huge success of some kind?”
“He landed a big business deal,” I replied. “Why?”
“Have there been any surprising reversals of fortune among prominent people?” Sorren pressed, and I knew from the look on his face that he was on the trail of something. I thought about the socialite suicide and the CEO arrested for embezzlement, and the investment banker in the car crash, and Jenkin Filbert’s heart attack.
“Actually, several,” I replied. “Why?”
Sorren met my gaze. “Because it fits an old pattern,” he replied. “And I’m afraid the Boyce family curse has expanded its scope.”
“Curse?” Teag asked, leaning forward.
Sorren shrugged. “Maybe it would be more accurate to say that the Boyces had a tendency to make very poor business deals.”
From what we’d learned, the Boyce family seemed to have more than its share of tragedy, but I wasn’t seeing the connection. “How does that have anything to do with the other people who’ve had their luck turn?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it’s a coincidence,” Sorren replied.
Teag was already reaching for his laptop. “I’m on it.” His Weaver magic also lets him weave strands of information into data, making him one hell of a hacker, so if there were connections to be made, I knew Teag would find them.
“You knew the Boyces?” I asked Sorren.
“Several generations of them. Never liked the way they did business, but their dealings only brought grief on themselves, so it was never Alliance business.”
I frowned. “Why would the Alliance care? Unless they were using witchcraft—”
Sorren shook his head. “Old Judah Boyce wouldn’t have had the patience for witchcraft. He liked to cut out the middleman and get down to brass tacks. That’s why making a deal with a demon appealed to him.”
I sat back, stunned, and let Sorren’s words sink in. Now that he said it, I could see the pattern. “Judah made a deal for wealth,” I said, remembering his rags-to-riches rise. “Alice made a deal for love. And Esther made her deal to bring her husband back alive from the war.”
“And the Devil, as they say, is in the details,” Sorren supplied as Teag searched the internet. “They weren’t the only ones over the years to call on the ‘old family friend.’ That’s one of the problems with single-mindedness—no appreciation for long-term consequences.”
“So they got what they asked for and more—but the price was having other things fall apart.”
Sorren nodded. “Exactly. Now you see why the Boyce family gained the notice of the Alliance. Dealing with demons is a dangerous business. But so long as they kept the consequences in the family, we decided it wasn’t really our concern.” He glanced toward Teag. “It seems something has changed all that.”
“The house is getting ready to open to the public,” I supplied. “Against Esther’s wishes. Which explains the hauntings and the poltergeist activity. But how would that have anything to do with other people suddenly making deals with demons?”
“Bingo.” We turned to look at Teag. “I found a connection,” he said, stretching in his chair and lacing his fingers together to crack his knuckles. “Every one of the people was either a donor to the Boyce House project or involved in some major way. The woman who killed herself hosted fundraisers to raise money for the renovation. The investment banker managed the funding. Jackson’s architecture firm did the plans. Some of the others served on the preservation committee.”
“If you’re right, then there are other people who could be in danger,” I replied, thinking of Mrs. Morrissey and the Historic Society. “See if you can find out from Kell whether any of the people who’ve had their luck turn on them toured the house.” I turned back to Sorren as Teag got up and walked a few steps away to call Kell.
“Do you think it’s something in the house that’s letting the demon latch onto people?”
“That’s my first instinct.” Sorren replied.
I thought about the visions I’d had, and what happened the night we were in the house. “That big mirror in the hallway,” I said. “I saw it in all of the memories from the objects I touched. When we were in the house, it sounded like the mirror crashed and broke, but it didn’t, and twice I could have sworn that I saw someone reflected in it who wasn’t there.”
“It’s as good a place as any to start,” Sorren said. “But if we’re going up against a demon, we’ll need some backup—and we definitely don’t want your ghost hunter friend involved.” He didn’t have to explain. Kell was good at finding ghosts, but fighting demons should be left to the professionals.
The next night, we headed out to the Boyce House to kill a demon. Father Anne Burgett came with us. She’s not your average Episcopalian priest, and her membership in the secret St. Expeditus Society means she’s one of the inner circle when it comes to kicking supernatural ass. Tonight Father Anne wore a black t-shirt over a pair of black cargo pants and solid Doc Marten boots. The colorful tattoo of her patron saints covered most of her right arm, extending beneath the sleeve of her shirt. I knew the silver crucifix on her necklace could double as a weapon against a demon, and wondered whether the blessed boline knife in a sheath on her belt, so effective against vengeful spirits, would work against hellspawn.
Teag carried silver and iron knives, as well as a variety of protection charms. I had my athame and Bo’s collar, plus a silver knife of my own and a lighter in my pocket, just in case, since fire served as a weapon of last resort. Sorren’s immortal strength was a formidable defense, and I was certain he had other protections hidden on his body. We were armed for the fight.
Sorren picked the locks to get us into Boyce House. Back when he was mortal, he’d been the best jewel thief in Antwerp. Teag hacked the security system, and we were in.
“The mirror is right over there,” I said as we gathered in the foyer.
The temperatu
re plummeted and my breath puffed out in white clouds. Esther’s ghost materialized between us and the mirror. In the reflection, I saw Judah on the stairs.
Get out! I heard Esther clearly in my mind, and from the looks on the others’ faces, I knew they heard her as well. Esther’s image broke up like a bad TV signal and then reappeared right in front of Sorren, crowding his space. Get out!
Sorren lunged forward with an iron knife in his hand, plunging the blade into the apparition. Esther’s ghost shrieked and vanished.
“Teag! Behind you!” I glanced toward the big mirror and realized Judah was no longer on the stairs and had reappeared right behind Teag, with his walking stick raised like a club. “Down!”
Teag dropped and I brought up my right hand, athame already in my grip. I sent a surge of my will into the wood, drawing on the depth of the emotions that old mixing spoon held, and a blast of cold white light streamed forward, catching Judah’s spirit in the chest and blowing it apart.
“They won’t be gone for long,” Sorren said as Teag climbed to his feet. Neither iron nor the cold energy of my athame would destroy a ghost, but for the moment, we were alone in the foyer. I shook my left arm and heard a jangle as the old dog collar wound around my wrist slipped down. Bo’s ghost materialized at my side.
“Let’s get this mirror taken care of,” Father Anne said. “Cover me.” Teag and I moved behind Father Anne as Sorren stepped to one side, knife in hand, wary in case Esther and Judah returned. I heard a muffled thud overhead and knew that our presence had awakened Alice.
Father Anne withdrew a black marker and drew a large sigil in the middle of the mirror, one I recognized as being a warding against demons. I moved to take Sorren’s place on guard as Teag and Sorren moved to lift the large piece down from the wall. It was heavy and awkward, and as they brought it down, the bottom edge of the mirror knocked the guest book and its pen to the floor. I glimpsed Judah and Esther’s spirits in the mirror, and a third woman whom I guessed was Alice. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark, blurred image there and gone. Frost was forming on the mirror, and gooseflesh rose on my skin as the ghosts’ presence sent the temperature even lower.
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