The Key of Darkness (The Bradbury Institute Book 1)

by Sonya Clark

  THE KEY OF DARKNESS

  The Bradbury Institute Volume One

  By Sonya Clark

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Thank you!

  Copyright Information

  Blurb

  At the Bradbury Institute, a private organization dedicated to the study of magic and the occult, adventure and romance are the best benefits.

  The Key of Darkness is an ancient grimoire designed for summoning and subjugating a powerful entity from deep within the lowest levels of Hell. The sorcerer who utilizes the Key will have unimaginable evil at their fingertips, to do with as their darkest desires dictate.

  The Key was meant to be entrusted for safe-keeping at the Bradbury Institute, but it has been stolen by an impulsive young thief. Now the race is on to retrieve the grimoire before he sells it to the highest bidder.

  Chapter 1

  Eve Kane paced the hallway slowly, her heels clicking on the parquet floor. She smoothed her skirt again, though it didn’t need it, then touched a nervous hand to the back of her chignon. Mrs. Delafield had been dead a week and this was to be Eve’s last day employed by the Delafield estate. She was giving herself a week off, an almost unimaginable luxury, after which she had a job lined up through a temp agency. Boring office work, certainly nothing like being personal assistant to Mrs. Delafield. Eve only had the job for a year and though at Mrs. D’s advanced age her death wasn’t a total shock, Eve still felt herself at loose ends. Mrs. D was a demanding employer, keeping Eve busy seven days a week at all hours of the day and night. But it had frequently been fun work too, and Mrs. D could be every bit as fascinating and charming as she could difficult and irascible.

  Eve had to admit she’d miss the old woman.

  The door to the study opened and various Delafield family members spilled into the hall. Most of them ignored her, a few gave her a kind nod or smile, but two gave her looks of pure venom: John and Louise Delafield, the middle son and daughter-in-law of the late Rebecca Delafield. Eve kept her face impassive, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of any hint they rattled her composure. It took a great deal of effort, though. Her stomach clenched. In her head she began to count in French-an old technique she used to help focus at times of anxiety. She was going to miss Mrs. Delafield and a lot of things about this job, but not dealing with those two.

  “Miss Kane.” One of the lawyers leaned out the door, gesturing for her to enter.

  Eve walked past John and Louise as if they weren’t there. To her surprise the team of lawyers left the room, the last one closing the door behind him. Arnold Glassman, Mrs. D’s personal attorney, left his seat behind the large antique desk. Eve relaxed, putting her hands in his when he approached.

  “How are you, dear?”

  “I miss her already. I keep checking my phone expecting a message and it surprises me every time when there’s not one.”

  Arnold led her to the settee and poured them both a cup of tea from the service on a low table. Smiling, he said, “I could have strangled Knox when he taught his grandmother how to use a Blackberry. Of course, he thought it highly amusing when she started issuing orders by text message at all hours of the day and night.”

  Eve sipped her tea. “She talked about him a great deal, but I never met him. I’m surprised he didn’t come home for the funeral.”

  A shadow crossed the attorney’s face. “Knox always loved his grandmother, but, well...”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.”

  Mrs. D had been quite willing to complain at length over how poorly John treated his son, her favorite grandchild. The young man had been living in Europe for several years, partly to escape his overbearing parents.

  Arnold moved the conversation forward. “Rebecca included you in her will, Eve. She bequeathed you a generous sum of money and one of her pieces of antique jewelry. During your employment you were always paid by direct deposit, so that’s how you’ll receive the funds she left you. It will be in your bank account by the end of business today. And I am to give you this.” He withdrew a small, black velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it out for her.

  Eve placed her cup on the table and took the box. Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw the ring, a milky opal set in a delicate gold filigree. It was a piece she had admired both for its beauty and the story of its acquisition. It was a tale Mrs. D loved to tell; equal parts scandalous and delightful, and she’d especially loved how it made Eve blush. The late Mr. Delafield had spent a few years of rebellious, youthful folly in Paris, where he met a beautiful dancer who swept him off his feet. Hiding his wealthy background, he proposed to Rebecca with the opal ring. She accepted initially, then fled when she discovered the truth of his upbringing. It took a year, but he eventually found her working as a showgirl in Vegas. Mrs. D’s favorite part of the story was their torrid backstage reunion.

  Smiling, she said, “I know exactly what message Mrs. D meant to send with this.” The tips of her ears burned and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. Eve had no intention of wearing the ring, at least not at this moment. Its latent energy reverberated of passion, something Mrs. D always insisted Eve needed more of in her life. She closed the lid, clutching the box tightly in one hand.

  Arnold said, “There’s one more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “You know she had a safe deposit box where she kept some of the especially rare antiques in her collection.” Eve nodded. That was about all she knew. Mrs. D never divulged what was in the box. “Those items are being donated to a place called The Bradbury Institute. Rebecca’s will states that Knox is to handle the matter but in his absence she wanted you to do it. She was quite adamant that only the two of you be allowed access to this safe deposit box, both in the terms of the will and in person when she was dictating those terms to me.”

  Strange. Mrs. D never mentioned anything called The Bradbury Institute. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

  “The arrangements are very specific and I’ve got everything ready.” All trace of humor had left his demeanor. She didn’t know what to make of that. “A car and driver will take you to the bank. A bank manager will assist you with the box, though they are not to touch the contents. Mrs. Delafield’s instructions are for you to hand carry the contents to the institute. The place is just outside of Wayfaring. It’s a two hour drive and there will be no stops along the way, so we’ll get you some dinner before you go.”

  “I have to go tonight?”

  “She wanted this taken care of as soon as possible. If Knox had been here it might have even happened before the funeral. I’m sorry if you have plans for tonight, but I can’t keep hoping he’ll show up.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. All I had planned was Chinese food and a good book.”

  “You are entirely too young and beautiful for such a boring Friday night.”

  Now she did blush. “What would Mrs. Glassman say if she heard you say that?”

  “She�
��d agree with me and try to set you up with our nephew. Now let’s get you that Chinese food and get you on your way.”

  They rose and Arnold escorted her to the door. She paused as he opened it. “What is The Bradbury Institute? Is it some sort of historical society?”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Something like that, yes. But not precisely.” He swept an arm out. “Shall we?”

  Eve nodded. This might not have been the strangest thing Rebecca Delafield ever asked of her, but it was certainly the most mysterious.

  Chapter 2

  Eve’s late employer Rebecca Delafield may have been a gregarious woman, but she was also a woman with secrets. Perhaps because of that she had little trouble respecting the privacy of others. There was a great deal about herself Eve didn’t tell anyone, but thankfully Mrs. D never had a problem with that. Oh, there were moments when they skirted around each others’ secrets. A few times Eve caught the older woman talking and laughing on a cell phone that no one else seemed to know about. Mrs. D never let Eve touch that phone, which made Eve wonder how much Mrs. D suspected about her.

  Then there was the time John ordered Eve to carry his briefcase from one room to another. A simple task, and one she didn’t balk at doing even though she didn’t work for John and didn’t care for him assuming otherwise. The moment she wrapped her hand around the handle, venom leached from the briefcase, crawling into her senses and nearly overwhelming her. She had no idea what he had inside the case, but it had the energy of pure poison. She staggered into the family room, dropping the briefcase with a careless thud, glad to be rid of it. Mrs. D watched from the sofa, staring in shocked horror.

  At the time Eve felt so out of sorts she barely noticed when Rebecca picked up the briefcase and went in search of her son. The muffled sounds of a shouting match barely registered as she struggled to shake off the stain of dark energy. Before that day, John and his snobbish wife treated her with their usual disdain for servants. After that, the disdain escalated into outright hostility.

  It wasn’t until much later that Eve began to think critically of these events and ask herself if there was a possibility Mrs. D knew what she could do.

  These thoughts ran through her head as she sat in the back of the limo. The smooth motion of the vehicle and light patter of rain combined with the stress of the day might have threatened to put her to sleep, but curiosity kept her wide awake. The box retrieved from a bank vault was twice the size of a shoe box and made of old wood with a brass lock. A sealed envelope addressed Director, Bradbury Institute had been the only other item. She had detected the outline of a key in it, but that was all. The box had so far been equally silent to her receptive hands.

  That was something Eve hadn’t encountered in all the years she’d been able to read objects.

  She glanced once more at the box that sat on the limo floor. They’d been on the road for an hour, putting them halfway to this mysterious institute. Fishing her e-reader out of her handbag, she tried reading as a distraction but the box drew her gaze. Its silence under her hands was a siren call, almost a dare. She would not go so far as to tear the key from the envelope and open it, but as her gaze continued to ping-pong between the screen and the box she became more and more obsessed with knowing something, anything, about its contents.

  She’d read the same paragraph three times before giving up and returning the e-reader to her bag. Imagining a teasing smile on Mrs. D’s lips, Eve picked up the box.

  It was heavy, but she already knew that. The wood seemed old but she got no impressions from it or the lock, even when pressing her hands against the surfaces. Sometimes if she could empty her mind and fine tune her focus, she could almost control the flashes of information that came to her, force them into some kind of logical order so she could interpret them. It was something she’d taught herself to do in order to deal with objects that overloaded her. Some objects barely held a hint of their past, while others soaked up enough energy to tell many novel worthy stories. Antiques were usually a sure bet for being eager to share their stories with her hands. This box, however, gave up nothing.

  She placed both hands flat on the top of the box, asking it to share itself with her. She bit her lip in concentration. A dark malevolence pushed at her from inside the box, and for the briefest of moments, the image of a book splashed with blood flared behind her closed eyes. Heat lashed first at her palms, then her thighs where the box was perched on her lap. Swallowing a shriek, Eve pushed the box to the floorboard. The contents made a clattering noise but right then she really didn’t care if she’d broken anything.

  She rubbed her hands together and shook her head, mentally berating herself for being so nosy. Whatever was in that box was none of her business. She’d do well to go back to reading.

  Eve reached for her bag as she felt the limo take a curve in the road. It stopped suddenly. She braced her feet against the floorboard to keep from being thrown into the opposite seat from the momentum.

  The driver’s voice came over the intercom. “Miss Kane, there’s a car across the road. I think they may have had a wreck in this rain.”

  Eve pressed the button to respond. “Should I call 911?” She already had her hand wrapped around her cell phone in her bag.

  “Let me check it out first. They may not be hurt. I can’t see much in this rain. Just sit tight and don’t exit the vehicle, please.”

  “Okay.”

  She sat back and peered out the window. A smeary hint of the limo’s headlights pierced the curtain of rain. Eve checked the time on her phone. Just after eight o’clock. A voicemail indicator caught her attention and she opened the phone to check it. The phone went black. Closing and reopening it did nothing. The phone stayed dead. Something akin to discordant notes on a piano skittered across her nerves.

  The door opened without warning. A hooded figure all in black climbed into the limo, letting in a quick shower of hard rain. Sitting in the opposite seat, he calmly leveled a gun at her. In a panic she opened her cell phone. Snatching it from her grasp with his empty hand, he opened the door just enough to toss out the phone.

  “Sorry about that, but I’d hate for us to be interrupted.” He sounded genial enough, friendly even despite the gun.

  “Where’s the driver, did you hurt him?” She didn’t bother to say she had no money or valuables. He was here for the box, he had to be.

  “He’s just taking a little nap. He’ll be fine when he wakes up.” He pushed the hood back, revealing an angular face half-covered by a mask. “But enough about the driver. Let’s focus on you.”

  Eve sank as far back into the seat as she could. Fear and anger churned through her body. She drew her knees in close. It would give her better leverage when she kicked him with her four inch stiletto heels. He was about to find out he picked the wrong target.

  Chapter 3

  Eve struck before he had a chance to say anything else, her kick dislodging the gun from his hand and sending it to the floorboard. She flung herself toward it but the man collided with her, propelling her back onto the seat. They grappled for a moment, but he quickly had her pinned under him. Arms raised above her head, wrists trapped in his strong hands, she tried to scissor her legs but his weight held her immobile.

  “Look,” he snapped. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then let me go!”

  “What, so you can plant one of those self-defense heels in my tender flesh?” Laughter flavored his voice. “I don’t think so.”

  He held her down with his body, their faces only inches apart. Deep set dark brown eyes met her own. His mouth quirked with teasing humor. He held her firmly but he wasn’t hurting her. That went a long way toward dissipating her fear, but Eve was still angry and felt helpless. She wasn’t afraid to try to fight him off but she really didn’t have the skill to do so effectively.

  “At least get off of me and let me sit up,” she demanded.

  He shifted, settling himself atop her more comfortably. More comfortably for him
, no doubt. “Look who’s a bossy bottom. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal.”

  Eve glared, refusing to answer.

  A mischievous grin lit his features, making him handsome despite the mask. “I’ll let you sit up.” A pause. “But only if you’re tied up.”

  “No!” Why couldn’t be just take the damn box and go?

  “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun. I promise.” Drawing them both into a seated position, he maneuvered her until she was poised on his lap. His arms wrapped around her like bands of steel, one hand easily holding both of her wrists. Squirming forward, Eve tried to put some distance between them but he pulled her roughly against his chest. With his free hand he loosened his black silk tie. It whispered as he dragged it free of his collar. Holding her in place with pressure from his elbows, he secured her wrists. His fingers were warm against her skin as they worked, agile and efficient.

  Eve never received impressions from people but sometimes she could read cloth. That strip of silk didn’t just broadcast, it sang. Unbidden waves of pleasure rippled through her. A swirl of confused images flooded her mind, other hands tied with the same silk, cries of ecstatic release. Phantom sensation threatened to overwhelm her and she bit her lip to keep from moaning aloud.

  “See – told you it would be fun.”

  Cold reality drowned out the sensual haze. Eve blinked, eyes snapping into focus on the smug grin that dimpled his face. Somewhere in that haze he’d moved her off his lap and sat across from her again. She lashed out with her self-defense heels, hoping a good enough kick would send him running. He caught first one ankle, then the other, a stiletto grazing the back of one hand.

  “Am I gonna have to hold you down again?” He grinned. “Not that I would complain about that.”

  “What do you want from me?” Hysteria hovered nearby. Eve tried to push it away and keep control.

  “For starters, your scarf.” Before she had a chance to reply he tugged the black cashmere loose. Holding it up as if for inspection, he said, “This should do the job nicely.” He used it to tie her ankles securely, slipping off her shoes as he did so.