by Pat Esden
As I rested back against the tub, it occurred to me that I’d neglected to tell Grandfather and Kate an important detail. Namely, that when I’d spotted the shadows in Dad’s room, they’d been moving toward the jar filled with Mother’s ashes. Well, actually, a cat’s ashes—but it was entirely possible the shadows hadn’t known that, either. Grandfather and Kate also had no idea that I’d connected the shadow in the gallery to Mother’s death.
Despite the heat of the water, I shivered. I scrambled to my feet and got out of the tub. I had nothing solid to base my suspicion on and no idea what it meant, but it was uncanny how I’d seen the shadows in two places connected to my mother. And it was interesting that the one in the gallery had looked distinctly larger.
I threw on my sweats and hurried into the other room. It was probably a good thing I hadn’t told them everything. The less they thought I knew about Mother’s death, the better. At least for the moment.
Beyond the window, the last of the daylight glistened on the distant ocean.
Any minute now the darkness would fall. After that, even with the lights on, it would make no sense for me to go to the gallery and try to remember what I’d witnessed. Between the darkness and the possibility of seeing a shadow, I’d never relax enough to move past those fears and recall Mother’s death, which most likely was equally terrifying.
I snagged my phone and settled into the chair beside the window. In the morning, I would go to the gallery. With the daylight on my side and a flashlight in my hand, there would be less chance that a genie or shadow or whatever they were would manage to sneak up on me, and I would be able to focus better. Tonight, I’d devote my time to learning what I could on the Internet.
Setting the phone on my lap, I closed my eyes. Where should I start? The djinn, the Ring of Solomon, maybe even the Tales of the Arabian Nights or non-Christian exorcisms.
I yawned. There was so much I wanted to do, but dinner and the bath had made me sleepy. A power nap, that’s what I needed. Ten minutes and I’d be good to go all night.
Taking a long, slow breath, and then another, I drifted off, the shadows, the ring, Selena, Uncle David . . .
The room is bright, but foggy. Uncle David glares at me from across the supper table. He’s saying something about the ring, but I can’t quite understand him. His voice is too distant, more like the echo of a flute or a whistle, way far off. Now, he’s gone and I’m in Selena’s bedroom, except she isn’t there. Chase is lying back on her four-poster bed with his arms folded behind his head, smiling invitingly at me. But the bed isn’t in her room. It’s in the gallery. The place is draped in silk and carpets, like a Middle Eastern harem. Throw pillows are everywhere. Blue smoke curls around us. It smells like sandalwood. And there are kittens, Siamese and tiger-striped ones, rubbing against my legs, disappearing under the bed.
And I’m on the bed with Chase now, straddling him, my hands moving up and under his sleeveless T, covering him with warm oil. Under my fingertips, his abdomen is even hotter than the oil, his skin smooth and silky, his muscles taut. My breath catches in my throat at the feel of him beneath me, and my stomach tightens. And an aching need begins to throb and build a bit down lower. My fingertips slide up his chest, defined and amazing. They touch the rough skin of his brand, and his hands clamp both my arms and his voice says something I can’t quite make out. I glance up at his face. His beautiful eyes are on mine, blue-gray as the ocean. He licks his lips and in one swift motion, I’m on the bottom and he’s on top of me. His mouth on mine, the full length of his naked body against mine. Hot skin against hot skin—
My eyes flashed open. Darkness stared back at me from beyond the window, pressing close against the glass. Holy cow. That was one hell of a power nap. I’d totally gone to sleep and had—Wow. Okay. Maybe Chase was just a tiny bit on my mind.
“Annie?” Selena’s voice said. It rose an octave. “You’re not dressed!”
I jolted fully awake.
Selena stood next to my chair, frowning down at me. Her hands went to her hips. “Don’t try and give me some crap about being too tired.”
Thinking fast, I teetered to my feet and held on to the chair for effect. “I—ah—I don’t feel good. I think I caught what the Professor has.”
“Bullshit. You were fine at dinner.”
“Really, I feel awful.”
“Newt’s going to be pissed. To make up for his brother, he fixed it so you’d ride to the party with one of his lacrosse team friends.”
“Please, just stop it. I told you I didn’t want to go. Besides, I can find my own guys. And I’m not hung up on Chase.” I swallowed hard.
“Yeah, right.” Selena bent down and snagged my red spikes. “Stay here if you want to. I’m going to have fun.” She stomped out of my room, leaving the door open behind her.
I dashed after her, but stopped in my doorway and watched as she disappeared down the hallway. I understood why Selena was mad at me for not going with her. I understood her swiping my shoes. Still, she really had turned bitchy since her father got home. Maybe it was more than her father harping on her, like mega-PMS or—a thought struck me—maybe Selena had a crush on Chase. She kept trying to fix me up with other guys and had tried pretty hard to make me lose interest in him.
Shoving the door shut, I retreated into my room and yanked the curtains closed. Newt was okay, but he wasn’t that great. Selena knew if she went partying, Chase would most likely follow her. Man, would Tibbs be pissed if she and Chase started hooking up. And he wouldn’t be the only one.
Squashing that ridiculous idea, I snagged my phone off the chair and flumped down on the bed. Whatever Selena knew or was up to or whoever she had the hots for, wasn’t my problem. Not at all.
The glow of the alarm clock on the bedside stand caught my eye. Almost midnight. Selena’s parents were asleep and no one else had bedrooms on this side of the house. Chase was busy tailing Selena, so he wouldn’t be cruising the hallways.
Cramming my feet into my moccasins, I grabbed my flashlight and crept into the hallway. I didn’t dare go to the gallery, but there was somewhere else I wanted to check out. Going there did mean I’d have to face the darkness again, but it didn’t involve recalling horrible events from the past.
It took me less than a minute to find the elevator in the alcove near my room. I pushed the down button. Instantly the door slid open and bright light streamed out. A lot of Dad’s tales involved Moonhill’s cellar. He’d claimed it was a maze of tunnels and rooms that rivaled the catacombs we’d seen under Rome. At its center, supposedly, was a treasury that housed a host of mythical objects.
I pushed the basement button. My stomach rose, then dropped as the elevator descended.
From the mirrored wall, my reflection studied me. A sneaking suspicion about the elevator’s design nipped at the back of my mind once more, trying to make connections—just like before when I was in it with Laura.
Dad had always taught me to trust my instincts. Right now, they told me this elevator had something to do with people appearing and disappearing so easily, which was logical. Except, they were also saying the vanishing acts weren’t as straightforward as getting in and riding up or down.
My stomach settled and a second later, the elevator clunked and its door whooshed open.
Ahead was a maintenance room with a low ceiling, concrete floor, and storage cages.
The elevator door started to slide shut. I pressed my hand against it, holding the door open so I could use its light to study the room. What met my eyes was rather ordinary. A tool bench with a light fixture over it and a pegboard behind it. A table saw and some other power equipment. Shelves covered with boxes and, on every wall, mismatched doors, all tightly closed.
Still holding the elevator open, I fanned my flashlight’s beam across the doors. A couple of them were crude and wooden. Some were made of iron and looked like they belonged in a prison. Over the top of an arched door, I could make out symbols of bees and triangles, just like the one
s over Moonhill’s main entryway.
The elevator door pulsed against my palm, trying to slide closed. If I let go of it and stepped into the room, total darkness would crash in around me.
Yeah, I could use the hold button, and I had my flashlight. Still, I could feel the chill of the darkness waiting for me to misstep. What if I dropped my flashlight and the shadows were somewhere down here?
I clenched my jaw. This wasn’t a time to let my fear win. I could do this.
I took my hand away from the door and dashed for the workbench, switching on the light above it.
Slowly, I turned around.
The puddle of brightness I stood in filtered into the dark room, like a weak streetlight on a pitch-black night.
With my flashlight beam cutting a quivering path, I made my way past the red glow of the elevator buttons to the doorway with the symbols over it. I hadn’t really studied the carvings over Moonhill’s entry, but in the center of each of these triangles was a pentagram. Definitely not your average door.
Taking a deep breath, I tried the latch.
Locked tight.
I trained the flashlight beam on the old-fashioned keyhole and smiled.
“Thank you, Dad,” I said under my breath as I ran back to the workbench. Maybe I wasn’t an expert, but this was the same kind of lock I watched Dad pick at the abandoned church and many times before that. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t see any sign of an alarm system.
I grabbed a thin screwdriver from a tool caddy, then rifled through the drawers until I found a piece of stiff wire.
Once I got back to the door, I grasped the flashlight between my teeth and went to work on the lock. A second later, I heard the mechanism click open.
Behind me, the elevator made a whooshing sound.
Light flooded the room.
Pocketing the screwdriver and wire, I pulled the flashlight from my mouth and swung around.
Grandfather’s silhouette stood in front of the open elevator door. “A creature of many talents, aren’t we?”
My pulse drummed in my ears. Damn! No way could I lie my way out of this one.
As Grandfather stepped away from the elevator, its doors remained open and I could see him more clearly. Like the symbols over the door, his backlit outline reminded me of the night Dad and I had arrived at Moonhill—or, more precisely, of the person watching us from the upstairs window.
I straightened up to my full height and toughened my voice as much as I dared. “You’ve been watching me all along—from the window when we first arrived and after that as well. When you carried my bags to my room, why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
Grandfather nodded at my pocket. “You’ll want to put those back exactly where you found them. Tibbs is fussy about his tools.” His eyebrows lifted. “I suggest you do it now.”
I scurried to the workbench and put everything away. He probably expected me to make for the elevator and run back to my room, or to apologize for picking the lock and forget that I’d caught him spying on me. But I’d come here for answers, and I intended on getting them. After all, I was as much of a Freemont as any of them.
I marched back to where he stood. “You told me a few things, but I know there’s a lot more going on around here.” I pointed at the symbols. “That isn’t normal.”
“You want to see what’s behind the door?”
“Very much,” I said. Hopefully this was a good idea and not the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
Grandfather dipped his head. “Go on. Ladies first. Open it.”
A warning bell went off in my skull. Grandfather was far too unconcerned about having caught me lock-picking and way too eager to show me around. Still, this might be my only chance.
I reached for the latch. I wasn’t going to chicken out. Not with Dad lying upstairs with a creature inside of him. Not until I knew everything.
The latch chilled my finger as I pulled the door open.
Beyond it a dimly lit tunnel arched. Gaudy-colored frescoes and ceiling-to-floor mirrors shimmered on its tiled walls. Only a few yards ahead, an Egyptian sarcophagus guarded one side of the tunnel and a suit of armor stood opposite it. Farther along, I could make out doorways and a wide alcove just before the tunnel curved out of sight.
Grandfather rested his hand on my back and nudged me through the doorway and into the tunnel.
“What is all this?” I asked, my voice quivering a little.
“Our collection,” he said. “It dates back to when the first shaman drew on cave walls, to Eden, to ancient China and India, to the Great Father Snake and the Aztecs, and Mayans—to when dreams first entered man’s sleep and anointed his mind with myths and magic.” His voice rushed and tumbled, then blended into the tunnel’s stillness. It sounded like he’d transformed from Grandfather into some kind of otherworldly tour guide. With another touch, he propelled me past the sarcophagus. “Enough of this esoteric mumbo jumbo,” he said. “Let me show you our research room.”
Sweat trickled down my spine. I hoped I could trust him. But if I was wrong, if he trapped me down here, no one would ever hear my screams. “It’s late. I know I was snooping. I’m sorry. I don’t want to keep you up.”
“Hush, child.” Grandfather stopped in front of a fresco that depicted people being burned at the stake and dancing demons. He breathed into his palm, then pressed it against a wall.
The wall slid open.
Beyond it was nothing except blackness.
My hand slithered into my pocket and clutched the flashlight. No. Flashlight or not, I was not going in there—if there actually was somewhere to go in there and not just an eternal pit of darkness. They’d probably already thrown Dad in. Now Grandfather was trying to lure me in as well.
Grandfather stepped forward.
Instantly overhead lights snapped on, throwing daylight-brightness down on everything inside. Surprised, I glanced at Grandfather. He was standing in a small, white-tiled vestibule. Next to him was a display cabinet filled with late-eighteenth-century English china and elaborately decorated eggs. Over it hung an amazing collection of swords. The vestibule itself overlooked an enormous room, which looked like a cross between the engineering deck on a starship and Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory.
“Wow.” I stepped out of the tunnel and into the vestibule.
“You wondered what your family did.” Grandfather smiled proudly. “I consider myself a sorcerer, though most of my magic is more science than witchcraft. The occult would be Kate and Olya’s specialties. Not exactly professions we discuss with anyone, at least until we’re sure they can be trusted.”
I scanned the equipment, computers and electronic stuff, bubbling vats and giant prisms and copper pyramids. Dad had grown up in the middle of all this. He’d known all along what his family had and was into.
A realization struck me and I turned to Grandfather. “It wasn’t just an accident that the genie possessed Dad. The genie wants something you have. Or you have something that belongs to it, like a bunch of jars with its family inside. It’s using Dad as a Trojan horse, right?”
“That would be our assumption.” Grandfather’s shoulders rose in a slow shrug. “For as long as people and other beings have used magic to create tools, our family has sought out those objects, taken them for study, and safeguarded them from being misused.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t it be easier to destroy them? So things like genies couldn’t come and take them back.”
“There is a fine balance between good and evil. Are we wise enough to judge what should be destroyed and what might be a savior in the future?”
I clamped my mouth shut. Now was not the time to debate about good and evil or if genies in jars were magical tools or living beings. Or why my family had deemed themselves the best guardians for all this stuff. Or why Dad hadn’t told me anything. I needed answers I could hold on to, something normal. “I’m assuming Selena and Zachary, everyone knows about this?”
“Ea
ch to their own degree. After all, they are family—or in Tibbs and Laura’s case, close to it.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Enough questions. It’s my turn. Tell me, Annie, can you read Russian?”
I shook my head. “No. Why?”
He frowned. “Chinese?”
“No. I’m not good with languages. I know some French.”
He nodded at the display of decorated eggs, every shade of yellow, green, and orange overlaid with black and gold symbols. Almost as many eggs as I’d seen in Selena’s family apartment. “Art?” he asked.
“I can paint a little, but nothing like that.”
“How about sports?”
Before I could stop myself, my voice turned sarcastic. “I can do the tango in spiked heels. Is that athletic enough for you?”
His frown deepened.
I pointed to the wall. “The second sword down from the top, right below the scimitar with the red symbol on its handle, is a Japanese katana. It could date back as far as the fifteenth century. If you remove the handle, there should be a maker’s mark. That would help date it.” I nodded at the display of china. “The teacup on the end would be English pearlware, probably 1810. The luster tells me it’s unlikely to be a reproduction. It could have been professionally repaired or altered. I’d need a black light to check for that. As for the eggs, they appear to be Russian, but the patterns are unfamiliar, perhaps modern.”
“Your aunt Kate’s looks and your father’s eye. You’d make an excellent fine art appraiser.” Grandfather opened his mouth to say something else.
But I’d had enough beating around the bush. I knew where all this was leading. “If you think I’m going to stay here and join the family business, you’re wrong. Even if Dad doesn’t get well, I’ll leave by myself if I have to. I have plans. I’m not going to be a part of this—” I waved my hand at the laboratory. “Madness.”
Grandfather tilted his head. “Did I say anything about you being a part of anything?”
“Why else would you show me everything?”
He raised a warning finger. “Kate could wipe your memory clean with one sweep of her hand and give you nightmares at the same time. But Kate’s and all of our abilities pale in comparison to the power of the creature inside your father.” He took a deep breath. “I’m showing you this because I want you to understand how serious the situation is. You need to do as you are told. Treat your father as if you suspect nothing. Let the rest of us deal with the genie. Don’t cause any trouble. No more snooping.”