Make-Believes & Lost Memories

by Rachael Stapleton

  The cards tucked inside this journal were painted with my ancestor’s blood, as a way to ensure you recognize who you are. They will only shimmer and change for my descendants. If you can see the shimmering symbols on the cards, then you are of my blood.

  And then she saw the line from Elsa’s fireplace about holding it up to the mirror. So, this was the section Elsa, or Elsa’s killer, had burnt. She continued on…

  My grandmother once told me of the failed portal she created. I can see now that she did not fail. But it is as she always said; some fates cannot be changed. However, some fates are meant to be changed, and that, my dear, is why I’m writing.

  Mallory reached for the tissue box on the table but they were too far away. She could no longer contain her emotions. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Here, let me help.” Kaden took a tissue and wiped her cheek. “This is too much for you. It’s been a crazy week. Do you want me to stop translating?”

  Her knee brushed against his, sending sparks shooting through her.

  She glanced over and he was looking at her the same way she was looking at him.

  Time slowed down. She was aware of the warm tingle that clutched at her belly as Kaden slowly leaned toward her.

  Was he about to kiss her?

  And then his radio crackled, reporting some sort of code.

  Kaden jerked back on the couch and reached for the offending gadget.

  He frowned. “I’m sorry. I need to go,” He blurted, touching her wrist. “Be careful. If you or your Nana didn’t kill him, there’s still someone here who did.”

  He walked to the sliding doors and turned back.

  “I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

  His aura flashed a muddied grey when he spoke. “Let me know if you want to know what the last page says. I can come back later to help translate.”

  Then he turned and practically ran down the hall before she could even say goodbye.

  Mallory leafed through the old book. Surely, she could use the current translations along with Google and figure out the rest but first she needed to get to that tea party. She glanced at her cell. Oh, she was late.

  27

  T HE tea party was a success, and the rest of the day whipped by. Guests came and went, checking in and out. By the time three o’clock rolled around, Mallory was exhausted. Running activities and chatting to every Tom, Dick and Harrietta took every ounce of her introverted being, but it was finally time to finish the translation.

  She’d just closed her laptop down when Danior appeared.

  “Are we going now?”

  “Yes, but have you seen Nana? I wanted to show her something, and she really didn’t seem herself today.”

  Danior nodded. “I know. She was reading everyone’s tea leaves in the kitchen. I get the feeling she senses trouble is coming.”

  “We found two dead bodies this week; I would say trouble is here.”

  “Last I saw her she was on the second floor,” Danior said, and sat down on the edge of the desk.

  “Where on the second floor?” Mallory asked, packing up her things.

  “I don’t know… just walking down the hall. I heard Mr. Detective stopped by and put the moves on you.”

  “Who told you that, Lise? I’m going to kill her. He stopped by to check Mr. Weasel’s room. He said Raymond kept a journal, or rather a notebook, on us. He was writing an exposé on the family.”

  “Great, and we gave him full access to Simza and her magical confessions? I told you what the vloggers said!”

  “I know.” Mallory sighed.

  “So, did he find the notebook?”

  “No, but we got interrupted, and he had to go. Of course, not before I spilled my guts and told him all of our secrets, like how we’d broken into Elsa’s house and stole our diary back.” Bakalo jumped up on the desk and rubbed up against Mallory’s side.

  “You have always sucked at interrogation.”

  “Tell me about it. The good news is I know we can trust him. I read his aura. He thinks the notebook holds our family’s secrets, but the reason he’s interested in it is that it also holds a list of people Raymond was bribing. As shocking as it is, apparently, Mr. Weasel wasn’t that nice of a guy.”

  Danior giggled. “Maybe we should go look for it.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Of course, we’d be breaking into another crime scene. We’d get into trouble if we were caught snooping—tampering with evidence or something.”

  “Possibly… but wouldn’t the detective be happy if you found it and handed it over… after we made sure it didn’t incriminate Nana, of course?” Danior sprang up from the desk, the sudden movement sending Bakalo flying. “Wait a minute! That’s where I saw her today—outside Mr. Weasel’s room. I bet she was looking for that diary. Or she found it and she’s off somewhere reading it.”

  “Let’s go.” Mallory said, getting up. “We’ll check out the cottage afterwards.”

  Danior was already off the desk with those long legs of hers and heading up the stairs ahead of Mallory. By the time Mallory caught up they were almost there.

  She unlocked the door and walked inside the taped off room.

  “I don’t see Nana.”

  “Me neither. Maybe she’s already been and gone. Look through all the papers on the desk and in his laptop bag. There must be a hundred pages. I’ll go through his suitcase and check the closet.”

  An hour later, they still hadn’t found it but they had found enough. “Can you believe this guy? He blamed Nana for his wife leaving him. What a nut job.”

  Mallory sighed and sat back on her heels. “Well, truthfully, it was Nana who encouraged her to leave him so he is right. Although, a normal person would probably take the time to reflect on what a jackass they’d been and shoulder some of the responsibility, but apparently this guy thought his life was perfect. Offering up daily abuse and spending all his wife’s money was his god-given right.”

  “Shoot me if I ever fall under anyone’s thumb like that. I might enjoy cooking but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be someone’s personal servant. What about you? I wonder if Mr. Detective can cook?”

  “Will you just focus?” Mallory interrupted.

  Danior poked her tongue out at her. “How long are we going to keep snooping?”

  “Until we find out if he was the one who killed Elsa.”

  “You think he’s just going to admit it in his journal? I want to see the cottage... wait, I found something,” Danior muttered, pausing at a door.

  “What?”

  “This door to the adjoining room, it’s ajar.”

  “Shouldn’t it be locked?”

  “Yes.”

  Danior opened the door and peeked inside.

  “Danior! Stop. We don’t even know whose room that is.”

  “Well. Whoever’s room it is. They’re awfully interested in Mr. Weasel.”

  “Why do you say that?” Mallory asked, stepping forward to see what Danior was alluding too. Sure enough, there was a stack of his belongings on the bed. There was also a camera set up at the vintage makeup table.

  “I know whose room this is.” Mallory said, picking up a tube of lipstick. It matched the one she’d found after Raymond’s murder. “This is Shae’s room.”

  “That Youtube vlogger that Lise worships? You think she killed the Weasel?”

  “She doesn’t exactly seem the type, but you never know. Maybe he insulted her contouring technique.”

  “Mal, come look at this.” Danior was rifling through the stack of books on the bed. She held up an old Polaroid, waving it in the air. “It’s a photo of your mother.”

  Mallory’s head snapped around. “My mother? How would he get a hold of a photo of my mother?”

  “Actually, that’s your dad, too.”

  “You’re right,” Mallory said, taking the photo from her hands. It showed her parents and two other men “They look so young. That was their band.”

  “That guy
in the back looks so familiar.”

  “He does, doesn’t he? I can’t remember his name but he was always around.”

  Something sounded like footsteps coming down the hallway. They paused outside the door. Danior and Mallory froze. Seconds ticked past. Holding her breath, Mallory listened for other noises. The footsteps moved on until Mallory heard a door open and close.

  “That was close. We should go.” Danior said.

  Mallory crept to the door and peered out into the empty hallway. The coast was clear. Mallory held the picture close to her heart, and they slipped back outside She knew she should leave the photo behind. It would give them away but she couldn’t bear to part with it.

  “Let’s take the hidden passage down to the parlor.” Mallory whispered.

  “Don’t you think we should put the photo upstairs before going exploring? You don’t want it getting lost or damaged.”

  “No time. We’re losing light.” Mallory replied. “Now move it!”

  28

  T HEY were almost there when Mallory remembered that she’d put the key back in the fireplace. She cursed so hard that even Eve Banter would have blushed.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t have the key.” Mallory said, stopping just as they rounded the corner of the tunnel. The tunnel was getting lighter as they moved closer to the garden opening.

  “I guess we can just check out the gardens and you can peer in the window.”

  “Or I could let us in.” Danior winked.

  Mallory had just started moving forward again when she heard the violins.

  “Something’s up.” Mallory whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Danior whispered back.

  “I mean somebody is here. I can feel it.”

  They hurried through the unlocked door into the stone cottage. There were charm bags hanging above the window that Mallory was sure had not been there before. Oh well. No time for the guided tour, Mallory marched on to the sound of the violins until she came to the magic room.

  The door was closed but not locked.

  Danior whispered in her ear. “Do you think we should go in there?”

  But Mallory wasn’t worried. Mallory knew who was in there.

  Nana sat in the centre of the braided rug surrounded by herbal crystals. How a woman of her age could sit cross legged like that was beyond Mallory. In front of her was a glowing crystal ball, a pentacle and the family spell book.

  “Mal! Danior!” Nana said, getting to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

  “Good question. I was wondering the same thing about you?” Mallory said, crossing her arms.

  “You hear the music again?”

  Mallory’s head was spinning, but she nodded. “I don’t understand how I forgot this place.”

  “You will,” Nana said. “And then you’ll realize why I’ve always pushed you to practice your gift. Something’s off—my cards are telling me something bad is coming. I knew it was time to return. We must prepare for battle,” Nana said.

  “That doesn’t explain anything,” Mallory sniped. It was late, she was tired, and she’d run out of patience for circling the truth.

  “Sit down, girls. I have a lot to tell you,” Nana murmured.

  They did as they were told. Danior sat cross-legged on the circular carpet, staring at Nana with her arms crossed in front of her chest and a curious look on her face. Mallory sat a few feet away with her knees pulled up against her and her arms wrapped around them, forging a protective shell.

  “Mallory, the night your mother left you,” Nana began. “She was rushed and acting fearful. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. She just said that she needed to go into the past. At the time I assumed Marco had left ahead of her. He did that sometimes when he needed to recharge in his own time but, looking back, I think maybe he was already dead and someone was after her.”

  Danior looked from Nana to Mallory and then back to Nana. “What are you talking about? What do you mean ‘recharging in his own time?’”

  Puzzlement, followed by dawning understanding and then sympathy crossed Nana’s face. “That’s right. I’m getting ahead of myself.” She gazed behind them. “You remember your dream, Mal?”

  Nana got to her feet, walked to the mirror and uncovered it. She faced it in their direction.

  “This is not just a mirror, girls. It contains the past.”

  “It’s one of the gifts your bloodline possesses, but the gift can vary. Your mother could walk through time using it. Mal, when you were little, you said the mirror sang to you.”

  Mallory smiled. “I hear it, yes. The soft, soothing violins.”

  Nana smiled back. “yes, well, the music won’t always be soft and sweet but it will be there. Your intuition won’t lie, and the things shown might not always be pleasant.”

  Mallory thought back to Raymond’s dead body.

  “True courage means facing the unpleasant in spite of the fear. I think your dream was partly due to your gift, and the fact that it was growing stronger, but also I think you’re beginning to remember the past, aren’t you?”

  Mallory grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed. “I’ve been through the mirror, haven’t I?”

  29

  “Y

  ES. As I said, some of your family is able to walk through time. Not all, but some. There are limitations of course.”

  Tears filled Mallory’s eyes as her mind filled with remembered images. Her mother’s aunts and uncles and Great Grandma Nadya, and the caravan. Those were real memories from the past. “That’s why those paintings in the manor felt so real to my mother.”

  Nana nodded. “They were real. Your grandfather Mikhail used to take your mother into the past to spend time with his own ancestors before you were born. I think he was trying to devise a plan to save them from the Nazi’s. That’s where the problem started.” She studied the mirror again. “When Jilli was young, about sixteen, she met Marco on one of their many trips and fell in love.” She paused and rubbed her hands over her face. She sounded mournful as she said it and it made Mallory’s heart ache.

  “I knew that they were not meant to be together but no one would listen to me. Whatever is coming is retribution for our meddling with time.” She stared at the floor for a moment and then continued. “When I knew their romance was inevitable, I suggested Marco try coming back with Mikhail and Jilli. It was foolish of me to be so naïve—to think there would be no consequences — but she was just so heartbroken every time she had to leave him and, truthfully, I was worried that she wouldn’t come home from one of their trips. I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking of the bigger picture. We quickly learned that Marco could time travel even though he was not of their blood. However, the longest he could stay here in our present time was three months, and then he would need to go back—to, in a sense, recharge or risk fading away like a ghost. For seven years Jilli and Marco took turns living in each other’s world.”

  “My father was from the past,” Mallory realized, her mouth fully hanging open.

  Nana nodded her head. “When they were home here at the Manor, they would take their musical talents on the road and eventually they formed a band with some others. The cards tried to warn me that it wouldn’t last, but your mother loved him so. They were happy, especially after they had you. You meant everything to them. That night that your mother showed up without your father. She was panicked and needed to get to the portal. She kissed us good bye and I never saw her again.”

  “How could you let her go?”

  “If I’d known that I would never see her again, believe me, I wouldn’t have.” She cupped Mallory’s cheek in the palm of her hand and gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mal.”

  Mallory stared back at her, amazed to hear the truth. “She really didn’t tell you where or why?”

  “No. I’d never seen your mother so frantic. She’d never kept anything from me before.” She stared at Mallory’s mouth and then shook her head. “I wish I’d
known that would have been our last hug.” She cleared her throat, “Anyway, you were okay for a while but then you started to have nightmares. You were the one who told me your father was dead. Three months later I found you crying in here. After that day, you wouldn’t speak. You wouldn’t eat or drink. After three days I grew terrified.” She swallowed. “You’re going to be upset when I tell you this but please believe me that I had no choice.”

  “What?”

  Nana just stared as if she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  “Just spit it out, Nana.”

  “I used a spell from your Grandma-Nadya’s grimoire to erase the trauma, but it meant erasing your memories.”

  “That’s why I forgot this place? You erased it from my mind?”

  “You were practically catatonic.” Nana defended.

  “You still had no right. Those memories were mine.” Mallory hardened her expression and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “I could have helped you find my mother.” Mallory’s voice rose in fury as she confronted her grandmother. “How could you do that? You stole my chance to find my family.”

  Nana stared back into Mallory’s eyes as the darkening sky outside enveloped them. Her face became a mask of pain. “It was that or let you die. Do you think I wanted to? I wanted to know what happened—I wanted to find my Jilli—but your mental health was more important than my own selfish need for closure. For all I knew they were dead. Nothing else could have possibly made your mother leave you like that.”

  Mallory swallowed hard. She wasn’t over it yet, but she understood—sort of.

  “As soon as you were doing better, I planned to reverse the spell, to slowly bring your memories back.” She let out a deep sigh. “It’s just that little Danior had showed up about the time you went catatonic and I’d also had her to worry about.”

  A sob escaped from beside them and Mallory realized Danior was crying too. “Wasn’t there some way to go back and save her?”

  Nana gave Danior a sad smile. “I can’t tell you how many times I mulled that over, but I was only a Vianu by marriage so I couldn’t travel, even if I had been willing to leave the two of you girls behind, which I wasn’t. It left me so bereft that I could no longer go into the tunnel.” She held her arms out and closed her eyes, “but oh how I missed this place and these gardens. I promised myself I’d never let anyone use the portal again. I was tempted, you see, to try to send Mallory back, to break the rules and find a way to be with Jilli again, to save her, but the cards warned me not to.” There was a slight pause before Nana said, “If I meddled with time, I risked deleting your birth. It was a trade-off.”