by Apryl Baker
“There was something there with me,” I say, shivering at the memory. “I almost didn’t get away from it.”
Now Zeke frowns, making a line between those fine, dark brows. “It might not have been something in the plane itself. You can travel from one place to another in a matter of seconds or hours. I’m betting on the former in your case, ma petite. I was at Lake Norman a few days ago looking at a piece of property, and felt something myself. Within a matter of minutes I was in the foulest mood I’ve been in for weeks.”
Holy crap! “That happened to me!” I’d gone from happy to foul-tempered in only a few minutes. Poor Ava took the brunt of it. “I didn’t understand it.”
“That’s something I’ll definitely need to deal with if I buy the house I’m looking at.” Zeke sighs and then gives me a small smile. “You’re beginning to look overwhelmed, ma petite. Why not go home and write down all your questions? We can sit down at your next visit and talk about them. Would that be easier for you?”
I nod gratefully. “That sounds like a great idea.”
My father smiles. “Would you like to see your room?”
“My room?” That came out of left field.
“Come, let me show you.” He stands and waits for me and Dan to follow him. We go up the hall, and then up a staircase at the back. He leads us to the last door at the end of the hall. The room itself is bare, but the color is beautiful. It’s a shade of green and cream that’s been blended into a color that I adore. The floor is covered in a plushy beige carpet. A window takes up half the wall and overlooks the city. This room is the size of mine, Mary’s, and our shared bathroom combined! Huge.
“You have a walk-in closet, and your own bath,” Zeke says as he opens the bathroom door. I almost die of sheer bliss right then and there. The old-fashioned claw foot soaker tub dominates the room. I briefly glance at the shower, but make a beeline for the tub. I could go in and never come out. Baths are my secret guilty pleasure. I run my fingers over the cool surface and do a happy dance on the inside. It’s a real cast-iron one, not one of those cheap, imitations. This will hold the heat in so much longer.
“You like it?” Zeke asks.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper and turn around, a smile plastered across my face. Nothing could have made me happier.
“Good, I hoped you’d like it. I thought you and I could go shopping one day this week and pick out furniture for your room. You can repaint the walls any color you want, of course, before the furniture arrives.”
“No, I love the colors.” I grin. “It’s exactly what I would’ve chosen.”
“I suppose we should wake your social worker up,” Zeke says regretfully. “She’s been out for over an hour.”
Over an hour? How is he going to explain that one?
“There are things we should discuss,” Zeke continues as we follow him back through the apartment. “Your name, for one. You’ve been Mattie Hathaway for the last sixteen years. I wouldn’t take that away from you, so I have no problems with people calling you Mattie, but your legal name is Emma Rose Crane. There’s no getting around that little fact. It is what you’ll need to use when filling out legal documents, school records, and college applications.”
“You’d better go before Nancy wakes up too, Dan. She’ll be super-pissed if you’re here.”
“Are you sure I should go?” he asks, staring at my shell-shocked face.
I nod. After Dan gives me one more searching look, he leaves.
Why didn’t I see this coming? Of course my name will have to change, but I’m not prepared for it, not yet. Not so soon. A small headache begins behind my eyes and pulses outward. How can I explain that I want to keep my…other name? To keep all I have left of my mom? He’ll never understand. Not after what she did to him.
“You’re upset,” Zeke sighs.
“You might get mad if I explain it to you,” I mutter as he leans over and whispers in Nancy’s ear. Her eyes flutter and then open. She blinks several times and then looks around.
“Mattie?” She tries to sit up and Zeke, acting the part of the gallant gentleman, helps her. “What happened?”
“You fainted.” Zeke hands her a glass of water. “We were discussing Mattie’s name change. Do you remember that?”
“Yes.” Nancy frowns when she sees her watch. “I was out for an hour?”
“I was starting to get concerned,” Zeke confesses. “Montgomery assured me I had no worries unless you were out for longer than an hour. His sister used to faint all the time.”
“I do not faint,” Nancy snaps, clearly flustered and embarrassed. She yanks her hand out of Zeke’s.
“Are you always this rude when people try to help you?” Zeke asks her.
“What?” Nancy shrieks. “You…I…how dare you!”
Oh, Nancy is so crushing on my father. I’m not feeling so bad about it now that I know he’s not married and he and my mother were never in love. Still a little creeped out, but I can deal. Besides, Nancy will run all over him.
“I was simply…” he begins.
“You listen to me, Mr. Crane,” Nancy seethes, fury growing with every word. “A gentleman never accuses a lady of being rude. That is just plain old bad manners where I come from. Furthermore, I have never fainted in my life! I was disoriented and shocked, not intentionally rude, unlike you. Now, can we please finish our business so Mattie and I may depart?”
My father backs up with each word Nancy utters until he’s standing against the wall. Yup, Nancy’s anger knows no bounds when she’s good and riled. I giggle. I can’t help it. For a man who exudes danger, Nancy has got him on the run.
Nancy looks around, frowning. Montgomery hands her the briefcase she’d had earlier and then flees. Good man. He knows when to hide. She yanks it open and pulls out several documents. “These custody papers will need to be studied by your attorney, signed, and then given back to me. I’m taking Mattie to have a new ID card made today with her name on it as you requested. Is there anything else you need before we leave?”
“Yes.” Zeke strides out of the room, headed for his office. When he returns a few minutes later, he’s holding an envelope, which he passes to me. “You’ll need this, Mattie, especially since you won’t be staying with me for a while.”
Curious, I open the envelope and a black AMEX card falls into my hand. I nearly drop it. Even I know what these cards are. They have an unlimited credit line. The name Emma Crane is emblazed across it.
“I can’t take this,” I whisper and try to hand it back to him. Just holding it makes me feel nervous.
He shakes his head and won’t take the card. “Of course you can,” he counters. “You won’t be with me, where I’m sure you’re provided with everything you need. With that card, I don’t have to worry so much. If you need something, just buy it.”
“But…”
“No buts.” He shakes his head again. “As soon as your new ID is issued, start using it.”
“Your father’s right, Mattie,” Nancy says before I can protest again, her voice soft. “I know you’re freaking out right now because of what this card signifies, but you might need it. Let him do this for you, please. He’s spent the last sixteen years wondering if you were alive and well, safe and cared for. This is his way of making sure all those things are now true. Let him do that for both of you.”
Zeke stares at Nancy, nonplussed. I finally nod my head, but have no intentions of using this card. No way, no how.
“Here you are, sir, I believe you meant to give this to Miss Mattie?” Montgomery hands Zeke a photo album. He takes it with a murmur of thanks and then gives it to me.
“I had this made for you,” he says. “In here are pictures of you, me, your mother, and your grandparents. I thought you’d like to have it. Look at it later tonight. You should know where you come from. My parents are anxious to meet you, but I asked they let me get to know you first before they descend upon us.”
It feels heavy in my hands, and not just b
ecause of the sizeable weight. This is my family, real images to prove that I had a family who loved me, who cared if I lived or died. I take a deep breath to hold back tears. I have grandparents.
“Now, the annual Policemen’s Ball is on Saturday, and I have accepted invitations for the both of us,” Zeke continues. “Use that card to buy a dress, shoes, jewelry, everything you’ll need. It’s a cotillion, and they’re doing a masquerade theme around that concept. The invitation will be delivered to you in a few days and you are allowed to bring a guest, so I am assuming the younger Malone boy will accompany you?”
“Ball?” I squeak. I don’t do school dances, let alone freakin’ balls! Ohmygosh…Saturday is in five days! I don’t even know where to start, where to go…
“It’s okay,” Zeke soothes. The panic must be showing on my face. “It will be fine, ma petite. It’s just a bunch of people milling around in formal attire. Nothing to worry about.”
“Come on, Mattie,” Nancy says gently. “Time to go.”
I nod, shell-shocked and panicked. I can’t go to a ball. I can’t…
I jump when Zeke enfolds me in a hug. “You’ll be fine,” he whispers and then kisses my forehead. “I promise.”
Somehow, I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s almost six o’clock by the time Nancy drops me off at home. Thankfully, I see no sign of Caleb’s truck. I’d texted Eli at four to say I didn’t know what time I would be home. I had to wait for hours to get a new ID. Charlotte is a busy city; the DMV had been packed. I now have a brand new driver’s license with the name Emma Rose Crane. I still have my old ID, because I’d swiped it when the DMV associate wasn’t looking. I’m not ready to give up every reminder of my name.
I let myself in, toss my bag in the corner, and head for the kitchen. I am dying of thirst even though I’d downed three bottles of water at the DMV. I grab orange juice out of the fridge. Once Mrs. Cross discovered I loved OJ and drank it with everything, including ice cream, she started keeping gallons of the stuff on hand. I didn’t even have to ask; she just stocks it. Mary’s mom is great like that.
Sitting down at the table, I scroll through the gazillion messages from Dan and Eli. Both are worried about me. Dan, of course, is freaked out about the exact same thing I am. We both let down our guard and told Zeke everything. Neither of us trusts him, but still we told him everything. Well, not everything. I didn’t tell him about my maybe-brother. Why would I tell him the rest of it but not that? Even Dan spilled the beans about the case and he hasn’t even told Eli and Caleb that stuff.
Did Zeke do something to us, like he had with Nancy? Drug us, maybe? Wouldn’t I know if I’d been drugged? Maybe? I mean, I don’t feel weird or drowsy. I am thirsty, though. Really, really thirsty.
I hear the doorbell and sigh. What now? Is it some idiot college kid trying to sell magazines again? Three of them showed up last week. I’d shut the door in their faces before they got out the first word. You think they’d gossip and share which houses not to visit. Then again, continued visits could be their way of payback. Either way, I don’t care. I need peace and quiet, so I can totally freak out.
One very pissed-off demon is standing there staring at me. Silas’s dark eyes are smoldering, the red in them swirling like the fires of hell. I swallow, panicked, and then remember he can’t get in the house.
“What do you want, Silas?” I ask, my voice flat. I have to try to remember not to provoke him.
“Let’s sit on the swing and chat, my darling girl.” His words drip venom.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
“Do I look like I’m asking?” he snarls. “Ringing a doorbell is…it’s embarrassing, Emma Rose, and it’s put me in quite a foul mood. Now, you can either come chat with me or I can send my pets along to find your foster mother. They will rip her apart, piece by piece,for hours until I decide to let her die. The choice in how we start the conversation is up to you, but we are going to talk.”
His voice is soft, quiet, and I have no doubt he’ll do it. I can’t let Mrs. Cross get hurt because of me. I step onto the porch and Silas beams at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They are still burning with fury.
I march over to the swing and fall down on it, trying not to be snarky. When I’m scared, I get defensive and my mouth runs away with me. I can’t afford to do that right now. I have to attempt to stay calm and not let my own mouth get the best of me.
Silas pulls a white handkerchief from his jeans pocket and wipes his hands while strolling over to sit beside me. Those hands are bloody. He tsks when he notices blood on his white linen shirt.
“Lose a fight?” I ask, hoping to sound casual.
“Hardly,” he drawls. “One of my souls came due. He didn’t want to pay his debt and it ended badly for him. I currently have him secured to my rack. Each time he moves, the hooks embed deeper and deeper into his flesh. You must teach them not to run from you, my darling girl. Remember that.”
Why would I remember that horrible detail? I’ll never make a deal with him. Silas scares the bejeezus out of me already. And what he could do to me later if I owed him? I shudder at the thought. Wait…he said I have to teach them not to run from me? It still implies I’m a demon. Just stay calm, Mattie. You’re not a demon. You’re not.
“You visited your father today,” Silas continues as he meticulously cleans blood from beneath his fingernails with a nail file that magically appeared out of nowhere.
“Yeah.”
“Shame on you for not telling me. If I’d known, I could have warned you,” he sighs.
“Warned me?”
“You did notice you were blurting things out you normally wouldn’t have?” Silas gives me a look one bestows upon a two-year-old when saying, hot, don’t touch!
“So he did do something to me and Dan?” I ask. “Did he drug us?”
“No, he didn’t,” Silas says and then curses when he pricks a finger. “He doesn’t need to. You can’t lie to Ezekiel Crane, no matter who you are. Well, except for your mother. Melissa lied to him every day quite easily. I still don’t know how she managed that one.”
That’s an interesting fact I file away for later. My mother could lie to Zeke. He did say she never told him anything about her family.
“I can lie to anyone,” I scoff. “I’m very good at it.”
“Oh, I know that, my darling girl.” He gives me a smile that thaws his eyes just a bit. “Unfortunately, even you can’t lie to him. As I said, no one can but your mother.”
“Not even you?” I ask curiously.
“Not even me.” He frowns at the black blood welling up on his finger before dipping the file into it. “It’s harder for him to get the truth out of me, however. Give me your hand.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Emma Rose, are we doing this again?” Silas sighs wearily. “We have had this discussion.” This time he doesn’t wait for me to obey, but simply grabs my hand and turns it over so the soft flesh of the underside of my forearm is exposed. “My pets are waiting for me to send them to your foster mother. Remember that when I say…Do. Not. Scream.”
Before I even realize what he’s doing, the nail file cuts my arm. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. The file slashes at my skin and I try to pull away, to fight, but he’s got me in a firm hold. “Be still,” his hisses. “You’ll make me ruin it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Silas admires his handiwork, while I fight down all the things I want to scream at him. He slices open his finger and uses the blood to trace the design carved out on my arm. Once he’s satisfied with that, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a tiny vial the size of a quarter that glows with a solid blue light. Silas pulls the stopper from the top and dumps the glowing contents into his hands. He cups it gently, stroking it almost with a loving touch. The light shies away and I feel terror emanating from it.
“Remember, no scream
ing,” he warns and grips my arm once more. “The neighbors are watching.” Silas forces the tiny ball into the open wound and I nearly black out from pain. Fire scorches every ounce of my being, tearing through me. I force myself to take shallow breaths. It’s not just physical pain, either, but also blind terror, anger, and death. The same emotions I feel when ghosts get close enough to invade my personal space. No! He can’t have…
“What was that?” I whisper.
“Don’t concern yourself with the what, Emma Rose, just the why. There now, all done.” He lets me pull back my arm.
I turn it over and examine the intricate design he gave me. It’s foreign and looks very, very ancient. The black lines are wide and spread from my elbow to my knuckles. A flash of light chases from one end of the design down to the other and then it’s gone. I stare blankly at my arm. Where did the design go?
“You can’t see it,” Silas says. “No one can, not even your father.”
“Why?” I ask, running fingers along my arm. It hurts, but there are no wounds.
“Well, mostly so you’ll stop giving away our little secrets, of course,” he tells me. “Your father has the ability to ask you a question and you will answer him truthfully. I’m not sure how he does this. It’s an ability that’s been in his family for centuries. It’s also one we have no real weapon against…except for that.” He gestures toward my arm. “It’s a dangerous solution, however. We’ve been trying to perfect it, but had only one other live through the Searing.”
“The Searing?”
“You felt the fire burn through every cell in your body?”
“Yes.” I can still feel it.
“That sigil sends a fire through you. I won’t get technical, but since you survived it, your father can never force the truth from you again. You can look him in the eyes and lie to his face with a smile.”