Gypsies, Traps & Missing Thieves

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Can you take me to that time right before you found yourself confused and lost?”

  There was a pulling sensation so Mallory slipped on her robe and flats and tiptoed to the door. Ears erect and ready for anything, Abby hopped off the bed and trotted toward the bedroom door. She had no awareness of her size; she would protect the family to the death.

  Using her firm alpha voice, Mallory said, “Abby, stay.”

  At the word “stay,” Abby tilted her head sideways. A curtain of matted white hair fell across her face, covering one eye.

  “You have to protect Nana,” Mallory said as she reached down to smooth the hair back over her head. “I’ll be right back.” She cracked open the bedroom door and Abby took off for Nana’s room down the hall.

  Mallory went in the other direction and followed the tugging sensation down the third-floor stairs until she was outside the second-floor bookcase rotunda that led to the secret passage. The floorboards had made a slight creaking sound as she walked. Despite continual reminders to herself that old houses naturally made noise as they settled, she still nervously checked behind her for her new ghostly friends.

  Mallory had a sudden, almost overwhelming sensation of fear in her chest, and then the ghost flickered white and disappeared altogether.

  She stood in the hall for a few minutes, waiting to see if the ghost returned. Sometimes they needed to recharge. After several minutes she was torn on whether to head back upstairs and go to bed or raid the main downstairs refrigerator. The food selection was always better down there. Hunger finally winning out, she headed down the hall in the direction of the main stairs.

  Without planning to, she found herself standing outside Daemon Wraith’s room. She was tempted to knock and interrogate him. She was still puzzled as to why she couldn’t get an accurate read on him. She’d never had trouble reading people before. This game was wreaking havoc on her senses.

  Joelle’s door opened, cutting Mallory’s thoughts off. “Dear lord, girl,” she chastised amusedly, “secret rendezvous are not meant to be announced.” And with that she closed her door again. Not exactly an appropriate place to hover Mallory realized and was just about to carry on when she heard sounds of a scuffle.

  A woman’s cry reverberated from the foyer below. It wasn’t loud, but it was filled with enough fear that she leapt into action. She grabbed the only weapon at hand—a vase from the console—and rushed toward the source of the noise. Coming to the top of the stairs, she heard whispers and the click of a door. She froze at the sound of footsteps.

  A cold breeze drifted in and she stopped on the landing, wondering suddenly if she were dreaming. A moment later her eyes adjusted and she watched as someone opened the front door, ready to exit.

  She strained her eyes and could have sworn she saw blue hair before the door was pulled closed. Either Danior was correct and Geneviève was alive after all or she was the most lifelike ghost Mallory had ever seen.

  Mallory took a step forward, accidentally knocking over a candelabra sitting on the sideboard. She blindly reached, catching it just before it hit the floor. She looked up and waited for the person to return, but there was nothing but utter stillness.

  Mallory waited, barely breathing, for the door to open once again. She stood in the dark for a few more seconds, then slowly made her way toward the window. There was no one there.

  21

  M allory spun around and hurried up the steps. She knocked on Penny’s door first. She had to know if Kaden and Penny had been in on it—if it was, in fact, all part of the game, as Danior had suggested.

  She was just about to knock when the door behind her opened. Strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind and spun her around.

  Daemon.

  She gripped his forearms, her nails digging into his flesh. “I need—”

  Gloria, Denise, and Rebel, who were also now awake, staggered from their rooms into the hall. Daemon gently shook Mallory by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  Taking a deep breath, Mallory quickly described what she had witnessed—everything from her ghostly visitor to the blue-haired shadow. By the time she’d finished her story, Eve, Danior and Harley had joined them in the hallway.

  Grinning, Harley crossed the hall and stood next to Eve. “Looks like we have another clue, Krystal, dear. Our sweet Geneviève was never murdered. She’s alive and well. Now, why would she fake her own death?”

  “I’m not kidding around,” Mallory said sharply. “I want to know where this missing Ellie girl is, and I’d like to speak to Geneviève or whatever her real name is.”

  Buttoning her long winter coat, Michèle walked out of her room. “Stop trying to ruin the game, dear.”

  “Where are you going?” Mallory asked.

  “You said Geneviève was outside,” Michèle said innocently. “That’s why we need to go look. How else will we solve the mystery if we don’t follow the clues?”

  “Whatever. I need to talk to Detective Bones . . .” Mallory paused, surprised to see that Kaden hadn’t woken yet. She walked across the hall, only to be stopped by Joelle, who draped a motherly arm across her shoulders and lowered her voice. “Now, listen. I spoke to Rebel and, based on the generator accident, she’s asked that we write Kaden, Penny and Emilion out of the game. She wants them to rest until we can get them checked out. I’m only telling you so you don’t have a meltdown when we announce their fake deaths tomorrow, okay?” She removed her arm and raised her voice once again, “Now, why don’t we all just go back to bed and get some sleep?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Rebel said, as she attempted to smother a yawn. “Pen’s been snoring all night and I’m exhausted.”

  Michèle dragged a pair of gloves out of her coat pocket. “Not me. I’m going to look for clues.”

  “Michèle,” Mallory said with a sigh, “you can’t go out there.”

  “No one is going out there. This is not a clue, people. This is a case of a player not following the rules,” Bronson called out from behind Joelle’s door. Drawing a blue striped terry cloth robe over his shoulders, he stumbled out into the hallway. “It’s the middle of the night. You’ll catch your death.”

  Michèle smiled. “No, but I might find out who did.”

  Mallory glanced at Harley’s door just as he disappeared and reappeared, choking back a sob, he covered his mouth with his hand. “I can’t believe it. I just . . .” He screwed his eyes shut and let out a low grief-stricken moan.

  “What is it?” Joelle asked worriedly. “What happened?”

  “Lana,” he said with a broken sob, “my wife . . . my gorgeous wife is . . .” He looked at them in horror, before stepping away from the door and smiling, “alive.”

  Lana stumbled out into the hallway. “What is going on? I just got to sleep.”

  Eve giggled.

  Mallory, not amused by Harley’s antics, glared at the smiling man.

  Lana leaned against the doorjamb. “What time is it?” she asked, wearily pulling the earplugs out of her ears.

  Joelle patted Mallory’s shoulder. “Mallory, dear, go back to bed. I don’t know why you’re so upset about seeing Geneviève out and about.” She lowered her voice, “you’ve seen your Nana up and walking and you’re not having a fit. Now I agree, she’s breaking the rules but let’s not make a big deal of it tonight.”

  “Breaking the rules. So, her death was just part of the game?”

  “Of course it was. Did you really think this was all happening?” Joelle shook her head before Mallory could respond. “Why don’t we just go back to bed and get some sleep? Tomorrow we can all pretend the imaginary corpse is still in the shed in the morning.”

  Danior yawned. “I’m going back upstairs to bed.” She looked over at Mallory. “Are you coming?”

  Mallory crossed her arms in front of her chest as she climbed the stairs to their suite. “Geneviève’s murder seemed so real. They really had me going.”

  “They really did,” Danior laughed from behin
d her.

  Once they were alone in the living room, Mallory turned to Danior. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Geneviève would be outside at this time of night?”

  “Not if she was waiting for us all to go to bed so she could come in and get settled. Maybe you coming downstairs ruined her plans.” She rubbed Mallory’s arm gently.

  Sensing the hesitation in her voice, Mallory asked, “But?”

  “It’s just . . . we’re playing a game.” She leaned against the wall. “Let’s think about this logically. Why are you so eager to imagine that someone was really murdered? This is a murder mystery game. There are supposed to be victims walking around—we’d be in trouble if they weren’t.”

  “I guess I just got a little spooked.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “Because, I’m the killer and I didn’t kill her, so that’s why I thought it was all real.”

  22

  D anior jerked back in surprise. “You’re the killer?”

  Mallory nodded somberly. “Yep, and you were next on my list. I’m supposed to drug you and then kill you.”

  “I don’t believe it. Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? It’s a game.”

  Rubbing her eyes, Danior chuckled. “I had no idea. I was convinced the murderer was Eve.”

  “I think you’re missing the point.”

  Danior’s grin slowly began to fade.

  “Think for a second. If I’m the killer, then who killed Geneviève’s character?”

  Danior shook her head. Mallory could tell she was torn between believing her and believing that everything she had seen was just part of the mystery. Danior leaned on the back of the couch. “Aw, come on, Mallory. Remember the waiver we signed; we knew to expect this.”

  Mallory took a seat on the couch. “I expected cheesy lines and cheap thrills, not a horror flick. And remember, one of the actresses is missing—well, she didn’t show up to collect her character information.”

  “Who?”

  “Ellie.”

  “Okay, back the train up. What did Bronson and Joelle say about your role as the killer? What were the details?”

  “Nothing much. I was given a list of clues to drop, secrets to expose, and characters I was supposed to get alone and knock off.”

  “So, you don’t know if there are other killers running about?”

  “Why would there be?”

  “Duh, for the twist. Remember we overheard them discussing the criss-cross. Geneviève was supposed to knock someone off before she was offed. So, she killed Ellie and we just haven’t discovered her body yet.” Danior said, slapping Mallory’s thigh.

  “Oww. Settle down. That was a man she was supposed to kill off.” Mallory sat quietly for a moment and stared off into the distance, considering the possibility. “I guess they could have changed up the plot again? It’s just the ghost thing that freaked me out.”

  “I know, but listen, Joelle and Bronson seemed awfully calm. Don’t you think they would have reacted if that hadn’t been part of the script?”

  “Well, yes. It’s just that I don’t manufacture these spiritual encounters, you know. And someone came to me.”

  “Okay, then, how about, if you’re still worried in the morning, then we’ll talk to Kaden just to see what he thinks.”

  Yawning, Mallory pulled a blanket over herself. The adrenaline that had kicked in earlier had long since petered out, leaving her feeling drained. She stared, transfixed, at the few remaining embers snapping against the log. Too exhausted to move to her own bed, she snuggled in. Seconds later, she was sound asleep.

  23

  “G ood morning, sunshine,” Nana said brightly.

  With a great deal of difficulty, Mallory pried her eyes open. She squinted against the harsh sunlight shining through the windows to see Nana leaning over the back of the sofa. Mallory looked around for Danior briefly before turning back to the obscenely cheerful woman. “What time is it?”

  “Lunch time, sleepyhead. Soup and sandwiches are being served downstairs in the dining room.” Nana handed a coffee mug to Mallory. “You missed breakfast, we had eggs, pancakes, bacon and sausage. Everything your little heart could desire.”

  Mallory pulled herself to her feet and walked to the bathroom to freshen up. “Wonderful. Where is everyone?”

  “They’re all downstairs in the dining room discussing last night’s events along with my murder. So far, everyone’s leaning toward Vee, I mean Miss Lil Scammer, being the culprit, but I’m sure that will change very soon,” Nana said with a wink. “Michèle, on the other hand, is seriously pushing for you. She’s convinced that you’re the killer and last night was a huge set up to throw the suspicion off yourself.”

  Mallory listened from her bedroom as she peeled off her pajamas and replaced them with tights and a fresh sweater, then she returned to the open concept kitchen/living room area and faced her Nana. “You know I’m the killer, right?”

  Nana winked. “How could I have missed that? Come on, let’s go downstairs before all the bacon is gone.”

  “I thought you said I missed breakfast?”

  “You did. I had Nat cook up some more with lunch to make you feel better.”

  Mallory smiled and gave her grandmother a big hug. “Nana, am I the only killer?” She asked, following Nana out the apartment’s door.

  Nana trotted halfway down the flight of stairs and paused, to straighten her sweater before entering the main hallway. “I don’t know . . . Although I did overhear Joelle tell Lise before we started the game that there was always a plan B.”

  They exited the stairwell and surveyed the empty second floor. The wood-paneled hallway was lined with doors, the walls were decorated with gilt-framed mirrors, brass sconces, and valuable oil paintings in ornate frames.

  “Which route shall we take?”

  To their right, around the corner of the long crimson carpeted corridor was the manor’s only elevator. To their left behind the rotunda was the secret passage, and at the very end of the hall was the main staircase. Normally, they traveled the secret passage route to allow the guest’s privacy but since they were playing the game this weekend, they’d been out and about with the guests.

  “Well, considering I’m dead. We’d best take the passage, but I’m guessing the foyer’s route is still a crime scene so we’ll have to take the corridor exit. What were you doing roaming the manor last night, anyway?” Nana asked popping open the door to the rotund.

  “I was being led,” Mallory said as they stepped inside. “You know what it’s like for me when there are new people in the house. Everyone and their dead uncle wants to come through with messages for their loved ones.”

  Nana rubbed Mallory’s shoulder. “Who came through this time?”

  “That’s the weird part,” Mallory said, and took a sip of the coffee she’d been carrying. “I couldn’t figure it out. At first, I thought it was the missing girl, Elizabeth Bowler—the one who never showed. She appeared to me in the attic during the search for the diary and she kept showing me a cross—or two crosses, actually. After Geneviève’s fall, I thought maybe it represented two graves. Ellie and Geneviève, but then I saw Geneviève alive last night.”

  Nana chuckled, “Oh, we have another rule breaker, do we? I tell you, if that Bronson waves his pointy little finger at me one more time, I shall bite it off.”

  Mallory smirked, “Don’t!” With Nana there was always the possibility she would do as she said.

  Nana straightened her shoulders with a certain satisfaction, like she was imagining the scenario.

  Reaching the halfway point on the flight of stairs that Geneviève had tumbled down, Nana reached up and tugged on the sconce. The wall retracted, and they carried on down a narrow offshoot of stairs, pausing to peek out the spyhole at the bottom before entering the first-floor hallway.

  Through the spyhole all looked normal to Mallory. The pocket doors to the Parlor stood open, and no one was around. They listened for only
a moment before crossing the hall into the parlor.

  “Anyway,” Mallory went on, “my question is, if Geneviève’s alive, then who does the second grave belong to?”

  “That,” Nana agreed, “or the two graves with crosses were a play on words for double-crossed. So, maybe this Ellie was double-crossed.”

  “Well, here’s the weird part: two of her relatives appeared—a matriarchal type, and a male figure—and they insisted on speaking to her. I tried to tell them that Ellie was right there beside them in the room, but they weren’t happy with that answer, which led me to believe the ghost was not this Ellie at all. I need to find out what really happen to that girl. Lise won’t tell me anything, since I’m still playing the game, but you’re dead. Maybe you could snoop around her computer, or Joelle’s purse. Pretty please? See if you can find a phone number for the no-show guest.”

  “Malhala, are you asking me to cheat for you?”

  “Oh, come on, Nana. It would make me feel a lot better to know if that girl were safe at home.”

  “Well, of course, dear. I’ll do it. I just wanted to hear you admit that you’re a rule breaker, too. Not that it’ll make much of a difference unless these phone lines are fixed soon.”

  Mallory pretended to frown.

  “Anyway, go on. You still haven’t explained to me what happened last night.”

  “Right. Sorry, I got off-topic. The ghost appeared to me again the—same energy as the attic—she led me downstairs, and then disappeared outside the rotunda on the second floor. I thought great. Here we go, she’s going to show me her death so she must be Geneviève. That was right before I saw Geneviève alive and well. I am so confused.”

  “Hmm, might be time to check the cards,” Nana said.

  “I just can’t figure it out. If it is Geneviève’s ghost, then why is the ghost of a perfectly alive girl appearing before me? If she’s not dead, then she shouldn’t be a ghost. And why did these ghosts come here to warn Ellie that she was in danger when Elizabeth isn’t even here?”

  As Mallory finished that sentence, there was a loud crash from the direction of the hall; they jumped at the noise. Mallory looked up to the doorway of the parlor and saw Lana standing there, a shocked expression on her face, and a shattered coffee mug on the floor.