“I know you have them, or she does.” Velte pointed his finger at me.
“Do you?” Marjorie walked to me and turned my chin toward her. “Zafira! Do you?” her eyes pleaded.
“No,” I whispered back.
“Why is this happening?” she yelled once more. As she reached for my arm, the picture frame slipped from her fingers. A cascade of silver shards skittered across the hardwood floor. Marjorie stood very still as the glass bounced around her feet. I reached down and grabbed the largest chunk I could find. It bit into my hand, but I didn’t care. At least I had a weapon now.
His cold glare focused in on me.
“Yes,” he mimicked. “Why is this happening? Why don’t you tell her what a bad man I am?”
“Oh, I think you’ve made it pretty clear,” I retorted.
“You were telling the truth?” She turned to me. “He killed someone?”
“Is that what you told her? You haven’t come clean, then, about the legend of the Purple Delhi Sapphire?”
“Opa Johann’s story?” Marjorie whispered. “What does that have to do with you murdering someone?”
A small shiver passed through me. “Velte is a murderer and he plans to murder us, as well, to get the gem set Opa gave you.”
“They are rightfully mine. The old man had no right giving them to you—Eugene’s bitch. I’ve suffered for that stone, it’s my right–”
“So have it!” snapped Marjorie. “There’s no need for anyone to die! I don’t even want them.”
“No,” I hissed. “He’ll kill us anyway and he’ll hurt a whole lot more people if he uses the stone’s power.”
“Power? You don’t believe that crap.” Velte said in disgust. He directed his gaze at Marjorie. “It isn't true. I just want the jewels because they rightfully belong to me. They’re my inheritance, if you will.”
“He’s lying,” I said. “He’s already been cursed. This is his second attempt at stealing the Purple Delhi Sapphire, his second life. I was with him in his last life, too.”
“You make no sense, little girl!” Velte said, laughing.
“I was there! Remember Opa’s story—I was Princess Sapphira.” I turned to Marjorie. “We fought and he caught fire and fell over the palace balcony, taking me with him—only he was Nico then…and we both traveled here. Now he’s trying to go back there, but he needs your jewels. They’re made from the original stone. They are magic.”
“You are delusional,” Velte said in an evenly measured tone. “The silly weavings of a child’s imagination—it’s pathetic really.”
“You’re pathetic!” I screamed.
“That's enough, Zafira!” It was Eugene. He stood framed in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed. “Why in the world are you screaming at your uncle and why are you holding that piece of glass?”
“He's not who you think he is,” I said.
“Zafira’s right, honey; he’s not.”
Eugene looked at the damage to the room and then up at Marjorie’s terrified face. He looked as if someone had slapped him. “Velte, what’s going on here?”
Velte lunged at him. He plunged the knife deep into Eugene’s chest and pulled it back out to wave it menacingly at Marjorie and me. Eugene dropped to his knees.
Marjorie reached her arms out to him and made an unbearable noise in her throat.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!” she finally screamed.
I had to breathe deeply to keep myself from falling apart as well, watching as Marjorie desperately gulped air. I held her arm tight to keep her from running over there, and she buried her sobs in her other hand.
“Why?” Eugene uttered before collapsing to the floor. He gurgled one last breath and blood flowed freely, staining the rug around him.
“Jesus help us,” I whispered.
I felt my own blood drain out of my face. I looked away, not knowing what to do. This wasn’t supposed to be the way. This wasn’t how it had happened. History was changing. It was as if I was once again back on that cliff being edged toward a precipice, a terrible hurtling fall into the abyss. Vertigo gripped my stomach. I squeezed the glass in my hand tighter, but did nothing. Blood trickled down my palm. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide, wanted to scream and beat my fists but before I could act on any of these impulses, nausea swelled in my throat and I rushed to the corner and threw up until there was nothing left but bile. Leaning weakly on the wall with my arm cushioning my sweaty face, I looked back at Marjorie.
A gentle breeze carried with it the sounds of the neighborhood kids playing in the backyard and I suddenly felt my stomach lurch again. Where was Gigi? What if she chose this moment to return?
Marjorie uncovered her face and just stood there in a state of numbness, shivering. She must be in shock. Velte was looking at her with amusement, as if he could tell he had her trapped like a fly under a glass. “Well I guess I might as well admit it now,” he said and chuckled as if sharing a private joke. “Tell you what: I’ll spare her life, if you hand over the Purple Delhi Sapphire within the next thirty seconds.”
Marjorie’s gaze fell on me. “Just give him the jewelery.”
“I don’t have your jewelery. I swear,” I said, trying not to show the strain I was under. I walked back to her side.
Marjorie’s dark eyebrows rose. “But downstairs. The ring?”
Velte’s eyes perked up.
“It’s mine. I know you don’t understand this, but it came with me through time.”
“Speaking of time—it's up,” he said, stalking across the room.
I cringed as he hammered the hilt of the knife across Marjorie’s temple.
She hit the floor with a thud.
“Marjorie!” I screamed. “No!” Hatred burned in my throat like unshed tears.
“My baby,” she moaned.
I dropped to her side. Velte had resumed his search, crashing through the wardrobe and pulling everything out.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. She was focused on something. Her hand had landed beside her face and I watched as she stretched forward as if reaching out to touch something under the bed. She pressed her index finger against her lips and closed her eyes. I scrambled to feel for her pulse but there was nothing. I followed her gaze—where she’d been looking—and quickly realized the last thing Marjorie had seen before drifting into unconsciousness.
Gigi, wild eyed with silent tears that streaked down her face as she hid beneath the bed. So this was what she had tried to tell me on her death bed in the hospital. She had taken and hidden the jewels. But it couldn’t end like this. I wouldn’t let him have Gigi, too. I needed to get him out of here and away from her until I could find where she had put them.
I smiled at her reassuringly and jumped to my feet.
Another spasm of rage contorted Velte’s features. “Don’t move!” he roared, raising the knife again. “Drop that shard of glass and give me those jewels, or by God I will kill everyone you love, one by one!”
“I only just got here.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it trembled. “Give me time. I’ll find them.” My teary eyes searched his face for compassion but found none.
“You would do anything to keep them from me.”
“No. I’ll get them for you.” I set down the glass as an excuse to position myself closer to the door, swallowing against the burning in my throat.
Velte sounded as if he was smiling. “So you do know where they are.”
“Yes. Put the knife down and I’ll go get them.”
He didn’t move, but his eyes drifted toward my pocket where my hand rested,
“Look, I only have one of the pieces on me. I have to get the others.” I lifted the ring out and his eyes lit up.
I could see his calculating mind working overtime.
“Give me the ring now while you go get the others!” He stepped toward me but I turned and bolted, seizing the opportunity to draw him out of the room. I planned to give him the jewel, but I needed to get him away from Gig
i in case it didn’t work. It was easier to bargain when he didn’t have anything or anyone over my head.
I streaked down the hallway toward the grand staircase, my feet thudding against the carpet runner. On the third step down, a sound—a high keening—from behind caught my attention. I don’t know why I looked back when it was most likely just Velte hot on my heels. But I did and my heart froze at the sight of the strawberry-blonde curls. I bit back a cry. Velte would kill her too.
Her face was red and tear-streaked. Gigi had come out of the room behind him. I had to fight the nausea that climbed up my throat.
Over the mad drumming of my heart I heard Velte’s ragged breathing. I wanted to call out to Gigi to get away, but he was so focused on me, he didn’t know she was there… yet.
Scared out of my wits, I scrambled back up the steps toward him, sweeping the area for options, a weapon. There was a table out of reach, with roses in a vase. The heavy crystal would be good for beaning him, if I could just get there.
Gigi moved behind the grandfather clock that stood in the hall.
My heart leapt as I focused on the object wrapped tight within her arms: the carved elephant box. We could end this. Gigi and Zafira would live.
I opened my mouth to call to her.
He’s coming too fast, I realized in horror. Just as he reached me, he tripped over the rug at the top of the stairs. I held my hand out to give him the ring, but he’d already made contact with my chest, knocking me off balance. Painstakingly, my brain tried to communicate the message to grab on to something, to save myself.
But I was unable. I envisioned myself as a paper plane awaiting a frightful crash. Arms flailing, my stomach found a place in my throat and I hit the bottom stair with a thud.
“Be sosa der hamin…” I started to whisper as the room darkened around me, but it was too late. The cool metal of the ring bit into my hand, reminding me of its unwanted presence. My eyes felt so heavy I could barely see the landing above but I glanced up, praying that Gigi had remained out of sight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Present Proposal
The sound of the ring clinking off the floor brought me back to present day. Cullen’s family was slowly coming into focus. They were all staring at me. That’s right, to them, Cullen had just proposed. They were waiting for me to say something. The jewel was still giving off its faint hum, only audible to me, and my head was spinning from the time travel.
“If ye don’t like it, we can get ye somethin’ else,” Cullen piped up, slowly rising from his bended knee. I stared at the ring as he picked it back up from the floor and placed it on my finger. I braced myself for another trip, but thankfully nothing happened. The ring was the same and yet there were subtle differences, which stood to reason. Since I’d changed history, this ring had been made or altered by someone else. I blinked hard, and willed myself to focus.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I whispered. “I just need to sit down. I’m feeling faint.”
“Ye hear that? She said yes!” Da boomed from his place at the head of the table.
“Thank the Lord,” one of his aunts whispered.
“She’s just a little overexcited. Get her some water,” Lucille instructed from across the table as Cullen lowered me into my chair.
He leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the neck as he squeezed my hand. “Are ye sure ye want to marry me, Aeval?”
“With every fibre of my being,” I whispered back, but of course there was that little feeling nagging inside me. Not that I didn’t want to marry Cullen but how had this ring gone from my family to Cullen’s family? I pushed the thought aside.
“May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat.”
“Slainte.”
***
There was someone prowling around the house, and even asleep I heard it: creaking in the kitchen, then up the stairs and in the office. It wasn’t Cullen. He was lying next to me with his arm looped around my waist. I needed to wake up but couldn’t quite push past the layers of sleep to the surface. There was the noise again. This time it was footsteps back down the stairs. I forced my eyes open, ears finely attuned, but now there was nothing. The night was still, and the only noise was Cullen’s soft breathing.
Through the slit in the drapes, a gloomy hint of light slithered in, offering a dismal glow. The room flashed and then quickly returned to its darkness. There was nobody in the room except the two of us. I slowly extricated myself from the blanket and sheets and dressed, quick and quiet, careful not to wake Cullen.
I was soon alone in the kitchen, where only my cat, Daphne, who’d made the move to Ireland with me, sat scratching to get out the door. Deciding to give up my mad search for who-knows-what, I opted to go back to sleep and walked silently up the stairs until I reached the warmth of my spot in bed. A musky scent, laced with sandalwood, invaded my senses. The smell soothed, and I snuggled deeper into the cozy heat source. My movements stirred him, even in his sleep; he shifted, inching closer, gently moving my hair aside.
“Keep ‘er up, my little Aeval, and you’ll be after gettin’ more than a snuggle.”
His voice was drowsy and dripped with brogue, vibrating up my neck like a cat's purr. Deep inside, heat coiled in my belly and spread between my legs, making me shudder.
For a moment I simply lay there, listening to the rain. My phone pinged on the nightstand. Nice as it was to be back in his arms, I reached for the phone.
It was four a.m. He would leave me soon for the airport. I dreaded the thought. We’d only just reunited, at least in my world. My finger hovered over the photos icon before I finally clicked and pulled up an image of my great-grandmother, Gigi. God only knew how much I missed her.
History was changed. It was possible—but not as I’d hoped. I’d only sped up death. I bit my lip, chastising myself. It was vital to push these thoughts aside, but the time travel had stirred up all the raw emotions, the guilt, the fear. I faced down that demon once again and it still wasn’t over. Nick was still out there.
At least some things had changed for the better. Instead of the orphanage, Gigi had lived a good life with her aunt, traveling abroad and finally settling back in Canada after the Second World War.
“Sophia?” Cullen’s insistent voice broke through.
“I’m sorry…what?” I asked automatically.
“I said, a hen is heavy when carried far.” He took the phone from my hand. “Ye’re after starin’ at your great-grandmother’s picture again.”
I pushed away the thought of Gigi and the Purple Delhi Sapphire.
“I wish I’d had the chance to meet her.”
I smiled. “She was great.”
“I can tell,” he said softly.
“And she would have loved you, a fellow ginger. She would have melted on the spot for your brogue.”
I pulled the blanket up higher and my black cat, Daphne, suddenly appeared, almost as if she understood what we were talking about. I looked back at Cullen. “Are you going to comfort me by telling me that she lived a full life?”
“No, Aeval, I would never patronize ye like that. Cancer took her much too soon. Ye know that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. She did have cancer, although I personally felt it was the shock of hearing my story that put her in the hospital. A fact I shared with no one.
Which reminded me that I still wasn’t being honest, still hadn't told Cullen about my curse or my trip into 1857 and now I was keeping one more secret. The real reason I was thrown back into my grief for Gigi—that I’d just been with her.
“Would it be easier to deal with this grief if ye were still in Canada? Not that I’m lettin’ ye go, but we could visit more.”
“I do miss the Muskoka Lake house sometimes. Gigi loved living there, loved the water, the birds, the woods. I loved it too. But she’s not there anymore...and an empty log house, as beautiful as it was, would only remind me of that...”
Van Morrison’s tender flinty voice crooned from Cull
en’s phone. He’d set the alarm. And now it was too late. He had to jet off to London. I would just have to wait a couple of days.
“It’s nothing. I just had another nightmare about what happened to Gigi’s sister,” I explained, telling another half-truth.
“Did they ever catch him—the man who killed her?”
I thought of Gigi dying of cancer. Then I thought about the murder of her mother and father and squeezed my eyes against the image of Eugene bleeding on his bedroom floor. I shook off the uneasy sensation that always accompanied recalling the snippets of my time traveling ripples. It was the ‘butterfly effect,’ I knew, and it was bound to happen, but what I needed to focus on now were logical facts. I owned the Purple Delhi Sapphire, and Nick would be coming for it.
“Do you want to talk about this?”
“No,” I said, arching my back in hopes of forgetting.
He pushed back, igniting the immediate interest of the growing bulge that now pulsed against me. “So much extra fabric in the way.” He slipped his hands up my night shirt, easing away my tension. Then he stopped, and peeked beneath the covers. “Is that my football jersey?”
I laughed. “It was on the floor next to the bed, so I threw it on.”
“Ahh, well now, the boys in green never looked so good, but how ‘bout we put that back where it belongs?”
“Would love to,” I said, getting up and looking back at him.
He was in the massive carved four poster bed, hands laced behind his head, looking all bronzed against the stark white sheets.
I slipped his shirt over my head and let it slide from my hands to the floor. “Is that better?”
He nodded. “Much.”
“Unfortunately,” I whispered, “it’s getting late and you probably need to have a shower before you catch your flight.”
He flicked a glance at his watch, barely taking his eyes off me. “Bollix. I do. Next time, then, love.”
“What?” I said and folded my hands across my chest. “I’ll just go jump in the shower, then.”
Temple of Indra's Curse (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 2) Page 8
