“Elizabeth?”
I looked at Tez. “What?”
One eyebrow quirked. “Gabriel asked us to examine the attic room.”
“Of course,” I said, embarrassed I’d drifted so deeply into my thoughts that I’d ignored what was being discussed by the others. “Although I don’t know what I can do. I’m not a detective.”
“The Silverstone mansion was built by your family,” said Gabriel. “You might have some insight to offer.” He glanced at Eva. “You’re satisfied that I am the real Gabriel?”
She nodded, though it seemed to me that her gaze still held suspicion. “We should call in Phoebe and Connor,” I said. “Patsy seemed to think we might be dealing with a demon, and they’re the experts.” I paused. “Maybe we should ask Lenette to drop by, too.”
“She into demons, too?” asked Tez.
For a shifter fairly new to the paranormal world, he was taking all of this in stride. Of course, what other choice did he have? Well, other than simply leaving.
“Not exactly. Lenette is Wiccan,” said Eva.“She’s a very powerful white witch who runs the bed-and-breakfast with her two sisters.” She nodded. “She would be able to sense the use of magic or seals.”
Gabriel looked surprised. “That makes sense. Whoever boarded up the room might’ve magically sealed it as well. I can’t usually sense such things, but Patsy should’ve. And she said nothing about demonic energy.”
Patsy had the same demon powers as Phoebe, so it made sense that she would be able to determine if the room had the stink of sulfur to it. I was disappointed by this realization. Were we really dealing with a ghost released when Gabriel opened up the room? Could this whole situation be as simple as a vengeful spirit who believed I was the woman he killed—and wanted to kill again?
Maybe Gabriel was right. I didn’t know much about my ancestor Jeremiah Silverstone, or about the history of the house. We never visited Broken Heart. In fact, the first time I had ever been in the house was the same day I had died.
Now I wondered if Great-uncle Josiah knew something about that room. Maybe he was the one who had closed it up. Had he been affected by a paranormal happenstance? Or had he just gone mad in his old age?
I glanced at Eva. “I was hoping you might know something about the place. You’ve been collecting information about the town.”
Eva shook her head. “I’ve been archiving what I can find, but there’s not much paperwork left from the early days. I have a few property deeds, and that’s about it. It’s strange because, I imagine, people kept diaries, recipes, receipts, even newspapers. But as far as I know, nothing of the sort has been uncovered. Not even in the library. And the LeRoys have been caretakers of it since the town was founded.”
“Did you find any papers, Gabriel?” I asked.
“We’ve barely delved into this. Given that Patsy has been going through everything without me, I have no idea what’s been found.” He rubbed his temples. “I’m going to check on my wife. We need to figure out what’s going on. I don’t like Patsy being confined.”
“Gabriel.”
We were all startled by the appearance of . . . Drake, I believe. He was one of the werewolf triplets, brother to Damian and Darrius. I was fairly certain this was Drake; I knew his hair was a lighter brown and that he was about an inch or two shorter than either of his brothers.
“I see we are taking every precaution against me being a doppelganger,” said Gabriel as he studied Drake’s stoic expression.
“I’m here to guard Patsy,” said Drake. “Teams are stationed around the house.”
“And my children?”
“Taken care of,” said the werewolf. “We need to verify your identity.”
Gabriel stood up, nostrils flaring and jaw muscles ticking. I could see now that he’d been keeping a very tight rein on his emotions. It must’ve been very difficult to choose statesmanship when he probably just wanted to go to his wife and take care of her. I knew about duty versus love; it was a difficult path, choosing to do what was right even if it meant sacrificing a little of your heart. “Get Dr. Michaels here, or call upon whomever you wish, so that we can determine that I am the real Gabriel Marchand.”
“The doctor is on his way,” said Drake. Sympathy seeped into his gaze. “I’ll go with you to check on Patsy.”
Gabriel nodded. “Very well.”
“Shouldn’t we go to the hospital so you can examine the scene, Tez?” I asked.
“That’s not my job, princess. Besides, I bet all we find is some black goo.”
Eva’s gaze widened. “That’s right. Lorcan said it was all over the bedsheets.”
Tez’s eyebrows went up. “When the hell did you talk to him?
She smiled and tapped her temple. “Meeting of the minds.”
“Oh, right. Mates can do that telepathy thing.”
“Eva, can you make sure someone at the hospital is getting a goo sample to Dr. Michaels for testing?”
“Of course,” she said.
Gabriel nodded to us, plucked out his cell phone, and strode toward the security door as he made a call. I heard him say MaryBeth’s name and realized he’d called her to check on his kids. Obviously, they were not safe in the house. It was reassuring that Damian had already put them in protective custody.
I hoped Gabriel got his identity confirmed soon. I felt badly for him. It was surely a terrible thing to come home to find your wife insane and imprisoned, and your children out of your reach.
“Let me show you how to get to the attic,” said Eva. “Lorcan is already at the archives trying to find more information about the town. We’ll widen the search, and maybe we’ll find some outside sources.”
“You’re still doing that mind-meld thing?”
“Same as breathing,” said Eva, smiling, “if I breathed.”
Ah. At least that explained why Lorcan had not returned. It appeared he didn’t doubt Gabriel’s identity, or he trusted that his wife was safe enough. Eva was obviously eager to reunite with her husband.
“I remember where the stairs are,” I said. Even though I had only visited the place once as a human, as a vampire, I’d been in the mansion many times. “You go on.”
Eva gave me a quick hug, waved at Tez, and then hurried out the front door. Tez looked at me, frowning. “How is she going to get there?”
“Probably steal your car.”
“Seriously?”
I laughed as we headed down the wide hallway to the kitchen. “I guess you’ll find out when we try to leave.”
“Very funny.” He pinched my bottom.
I stopped and shot a look of annoyance over my shoulder. “I find such actions inappropriate.”
One brown eyebrow rose. “I expect you to try a little harder with vocab,” he said. “Especially if you want me to kiss you.”
“I wasn’t trying—”
“Exactly.”
“You’re infuriating.”
He grinned, unapologetic as usual. “It’s one of my better qualities.”
I sniffed and turned back around, mostly to hide my smile. I really shouldn’t encourage such behavior.
In the large pantry, I walked to the back shelf and pressed on the end. It swung forward and we squeezed into the gap.
“The house has several hidden hallways and secret rooms,” I said as we walked down the very narrow space. “Jessica and Patrick lived here for a while, and their kids became quite adept at finding all the nooks and crannies.”
“You gave this whole place up?” he asked in amazement.
“It was never really mine.” I explained to Tez about my great-uncle’s will, the reason I had come to town, and how I met my end. “I woke up a vampire and very happy to be alive. Or rather, undead.”
“Lorcan’s okay? He hasn’t turned back into that thing?”
“Completely cured. However, he can shift into a wolf. The ability appears to be a side effect of the cure. And since Eva mated with him and started sharing his blood, she ha
s the ability now, too.”
“Interesting.”
“How so?”
“That vampires can become shifters.”
“Oh, but they can’t,” I said. “It worked the opposite way—Lorcan was a vampire first who gained the ability to shift from a full transfusion. Eva doesn’t drink from donors anymore, so she gets the full effect of the transfused blood.”
“How’s that any different from a vampire sucking on the neck of a shifter?”
“Vampire to vampire,” I said, although I was beginning to doubt my own logic. “Not vampire to shifter. See the difference?”
“Nope.”
At the end of the teeny hallway was a wrought iron spiral staircase. When I stepped onto the first stair, it squealed ominously. I hurried upward and Tez followed closely, the iron steps protesting the whole way.
We entered the huge open space and I hit the light switch on the wall nearest to me. Lights flickered on and revealed the vastness of the attic.
“Wow. I think you can fit an ocean liner in here,” said Tez.
“Maybe half of one.” Gabriel and Patsy had managed to clear out much of the moldering furniture and collapsing boxes. I pointed to the right. “There.”
We approached the mysterious hidden room. I felt trepidation creep through me. Maybe no one had been able to sense magic or demon energy, but even a nonpsychic had mentioned the “dark” feeling. It was like a suffocating blanket. The air felt wrong—and we hadn’t even entered the room yet. Debris littered the sides of the doorway. And once, there had been a door—though it was long gone. It was obvious the entrance had been boarded up for a great while.
We peered inside. Temporary lighting had been connected to the existing wiring. The room was much larger than I had imagined. In fact, it seemed to be several rooms.
“It looks like a bunch of junk,” said Tez as he stepped through and wandered between two long tables piled with objects. Shelves lined the walls, filled with items I couldn’t believe had any meaning except to previous owners: rusted tins, glass bottles, moth-eaten clothes, gold-rimmed dishes, wooden trains, bolts of fabric . . . The amount of items was endless. And inane. It smelled musty, and, of course, dust coated everything. Unfortunately, there were no windows to open to clear out the stale air.
“Maybe they stored items from the general store here,” I mused. “Jeremiah Silverstone owned it, after all.”
“You’d think he’d put supplies in a more convenient location.” Tez had found a box filled with marbles. He put it down again and sniffed the air. “Something’s really wrong here.”
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 woul
d 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?
Cross Your Heart: A Broken Heart Novel Page 9