The Curse of the Golden Touch

by G M Mckay

  Right then, a faint draft of cold air brushed across my cheek and I screamed involuntarily, throwing myself to the side to avoid an imagined assailant. There was a sharp thud of something falling and then the sound of breaking glass. I rolled to the far side of the bed and threw myself to the floor, landing hard on my hip and crying out again. There was a scuttling sound and a door slammed and then another. The lights flicked on and suddenly Gil was right there beside me lifting me gently to my feet.

  “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeated, pulling me hard against his chest where his heartbeat lub-lubbed away almost as fast as mine was. “What happened, Jilly?”

  “There … was … someone … in here,” I gasped, “here in my room. I felt them touch me.”

  “Okay, calm down. Tell me slowly what happened.”

  I told him about my nightmare and then of waking up with the utter certainty that I was not alone.

  “And you felt someone touch you?”

  “I ... I think so. I could hear them breathing, too.”

  Xan appeared in the bedroom doorway wearing a pair of black and gold silk pajamas along with matching slippers and a silk eye mask pushed up to the top of his head that made him look like a young sultan. He also had a disgruntled looking Morris under one arm.

  “What on earth is all this about, Jilly? It’s six o clock in the morning. Some of us need to sleep a full eight hours.”

  “Shut up, you idiot,” Gil snapped. “Can’t you see she’s terrified? Did you see anyone in the hall as you came in?”

  “Just this mangy creature,” he said, dropping Morris unceremoniously onto my bed. “He came streaking into my room the second I opened my door. Something spooked him. Probably all the screaming; I was having the loveliest dream, you know.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your beauty sleep,” Gil said dryly. He sat me down on the bed and moved to the dresser where the figurines had all been knocked over. The front end of a little horse had smashed into a thousand pieces and they lay scattered across the floor. But the back end was completely intact. Gilbert picked it up carefully turning it over and over in both hands. “I remember these,” he said “this is like the ones your mother has at home, the ones you used to hide things in.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked incredulously. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  “Sure you have, you showed me that time we were exploring during a rainstorm. There was a hidden compartment inside; you twist the horse in half and it comes apart. It’s like a secret chamber.

  “Gilbert, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. We have nothing like that at home. I would definitely remember that.”

  “Well, we’ll just add it to one of the many things you don’t remember about our childhood,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

  He fished inside the little compartment and pulled out a small fragment of torn paper.

  “What is that?” Xan leaned closer so he could see better, then grabbed the piece of paper, “it’s just a drawing of some girl on a horse. Who would bother to hide that?”

  “Jilly,” Gil said suddenly, pointing to a closed door beside the entry for the bathroom, “where does that door go to?”

  “I have no idea. I assumed it was a closet.”

  “I can answer that,” Xan said, casting a superior look at Gil. “I have one in my room, too. Most of the rooms here are adjoining. I discovered mine ages ago, but I’m not surprised that an unobservant fellow such as yourself would miss something so obvious.”

  “Damn it, this place is a maze,” Gil said, pulling the door open and peering into the next room, this one decorated in shades of pink. “I don’t like this; these people aren’t trustworthy at all.”

  “Don’t get excited over nothing,” Xan said in a bored voice. “Estelle told me all about it. Technically it was for fire protection, there weren’t any windows in half of these rooms so it was another way to escape in an emergency. But she said the real reason is that the man who first built the house, or at least this wing of it, was a horrible letch who needed a secret way to meet his mistresses. She said there are more passageways hidden behind the walls in the house, too.”

  “Oh, great,” Gil said, looking around the room as if he expected more passage-ways to spring up before his eyes.

  “It is a bit creepy,” I agreed, wondering why Belinda had left that chunk of history lesson out when I was getting my tour.

  “Stay here with Xan,” Gil ordered, “I’ll be right back.”

  He slipped through the door into the next room and I felt a spark of unease as he left.

  Come on, pull yourself together, I told myself firmly, stop being such a baby.

  “Look, what’s that?” Xan said, coming closer and kneeling down beside the broken shards of porcelain. He reached out and carefully nudged aside a few pieces in order to pick up a tiny object, no bigger than a rolled cigarette. It was the same shape as a cigarette except hollow and tied with a tiny red cord of embroidery thread in the middle.

  “That’s strange,” I said, taking the paper from him carefully. “It looks … it looks like a miniature scroll of some sort. And look, there’s a piece torn out of it at one end. Do you think it was part of the paper in the figurine?”

  “I don’t know.” Xan shrugged. “Go on and open it, though, and see what it says.”

  “I’m not sure…it’s not our house—”

  “Oh, go on, if it’s something important then we’ll turn it over to Estelle, of course. If you don’t open it, then I will.”

  “Okay, okay.” I pulled delicately at the little string with the tips of my fingers, careful not to damage anything. It came apart easily though, and I unfurled the miniscule piece of paper.

  “The lady rides nine,” I read. “Sorry, that’s all it says.”

  A shiver went through me as I remembered snippets of my dream. What did it mean, though?

  “The lady rides nine. Nine what? Horses?” Xan asked.

  “I have no idea. Maybe at nine o’clock? Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Well, if somebody went to the trouble to put it inside the horse sculpture then it must be important.”

  “Yes, important enough that someone else tried to get it back again tonight.” I gulped and suppressed a shiver. Or maybe they were here for another reason altogether.

  “I wonder…” Xan said slowly. “Where on earth is that stable boy, anyway?”

  “Here,” Gil said, sticking his head back inside the door. “This place is like a rabbit warren, nearly all the rooms are connected and none of the doors lock. It’s ridiculous.”

  “All right then, Sherlock,” Xan said, “Did you manage to catch whoever was in Jilly’s room then?”

  “No.” Gil shrugged reluctantly. “I didn’t see a soul.”

  He turned and marched back in the direction he’d come from.

  “Maybe we’re making more out of this than we need to,” Xan said quietly as soon as Gil was out of earshot.”

  “All right, so who was in my room?” I said. “I didn’t make it up.”

  “Morris, of course. He was prowling around, knocked over the horses, scared himself and bolted into the hall.”

  “But what touched my face?”

  “Wind from the corridor? It’s pretty drafty here.”

  “Hmm,” I said doubtfully, “maybe.” But I couldn’t shake off the absolute certainty that someone had been here.

  “From now on we stick together,” Gil said, appearing again in the room next to mine. He deposited his luggage on the bed with a thump. “You should probably take the room beside me, Xan, that way we can keep an eye on each other.”

  “No thank you, my room is quite comfortable. If you two want to canoodle down here in your love nest, by all means, be my guest.”

  “Get out,” Gil said fiercely, pointing toward the door.

  “Gladly, I have some sleep to catch up on. Have a good time, you
two.” Xan sashayed from the room, throwing a meaningful glance over his shoulder.

  “Gah, how do you stand him?” Gil scowled and thrust his hands in his pockets.

  “Oh, he grows on you.”

  “Like a bad mold,” Gil said morosely.

  “Yes, a little like that. But he does care in his own way. Thank you for coming to rescue me. Now that I think about it, I suppose it could have been Morris that scared me like Xan said. I woke up from that awful nightmare and … well, I guess my mind could have been playing tricks on me. I haven’t felt quite myself since I hit my head.”

  “Hmm,” Gil said. “Well, I think I trust your judgement better than Xan’s; if you say there was someone in here, then there was. Anyway, let’s see if we can get a bit more sleep before the sun comes up. We have a big day of riding ahead. I’ll be right here next if you need me. We’ll leave the doors open between our rooms.”

  It took me a long time to go back to sleep, even with Gil snoring away in the room beside me, but I finally managed to drift off.

  I didn’t wake up until the sun was high overhead and Aimee was pushing my breakfast trolley noisily across the floor. And it wasn’t until I was on my second cup of coffee that I realized something important; the book I’d set on my bedside table, the one my great, great grandfather had written, had disappeared.

  Chapter 12

  When I shared the news after breakfast, neither Xan nor Gil really knew what to make of it. They hadn’t seen me with the book in the first place, so they weren’t much help in looking for it.

  “But why would anyone steal some old book from you now?” Xan asked. “If it’s been kept in the library this whole time then anyone living here could have read it any time they wanted.”

  “Hmm, good point,” I said, “it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Unless someone just didn’t want Jilly to read it,” Gil said darkly.

  We were just on our way to the barn when Belinda waylaid me. “Jillian, could I have a word, please?”

  “Umm.” All I wanted to do was go to the stable and see Bally but I didn’t want to seem rude. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  “Sure, okay,” I said, trying not to sound too encouraging. “I have to help in the barn soon, but I can spare a few minutes.”

  “Perfect.” Her eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together. “I’ll meet you in the small library then. I just have to finish up a few things in the kitchen and then I’ll be right there.”

  Fine, I thought with a sigh and resigned myself to another uncomfortable conversation.

  “We’ll wait with you,” Gil said, looking meaningfully at Xan.

  “Afraid you’re on your own.” Xan pulled on his riding gloves and sauntered toward the door where Estelle was waiting.

  “Good morning,” Estelle called to us but she didn’t look like she’d had a very solid night’s sleep either. Her face was pale and the dark circles under her eyes gave her a gaunt, hunted look.

  “Good morning. Gil, you go ahead with them. I’ll be fine. I’ll be out in a few minutes once I’ve talked to Belinda.” I still hadn’t come to terms with all these new revelations; I wasn’t even sure if I completely believed everything. I certainly wasn’t ready to talk about it with Gil hovering over me protectively. His suspicions had only deepened overnight and he was unusually surly this morning.

  He protested a little and then finally gave in. “Fine, you have a half an hour and then I come looking for you.”

  I waited for them all to leave and then went a few steps down the hallway to the small, library door. Just as I put my hand on the latch, I heard the sound of glass breaking and a startled cry from inside.

  “Aimee?” I said, pushing the door open. She knelt on the carpet on the far side of the room, sweeping up the remains of a porcelain figurine that had shattered when it fell. “Are you hurt?”

  Aimee’s face flushed a deep shade of red, and she brushed hurriedly at her eyes. “Oh, I’m just clumsy this morning,” she said in frustration. “This is one of Ruthie’s favorite figurines; she’ll be so upset when she finds out I’ve broken it.”

  “Here, let me help.” I reached out but she batted my hand away impatiently, her fingernails scraping across my arm.

  I looked down at the shallow scratches in surprise.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said hastily, “I didn’t mean to do that, you just startled me. Stand back now. I don’t want you to get cut on any of these shards.”

  She had to brush past me to reach the garbage can, and I could see that her hands were shaking badly. She dumped the broken sculpture in the bin but instead of leaving it at that she lifted the garbage can and clutched it in her arms, backing out the doorway into the hall with a strange look on her face.

  Well, what on earth was all that about? I thought, watching her go in astonishment. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  That wasn’t my only surprise, though; when I glanced down at the little table I’d been seated next to earlier that morning, I saw that the little black book had returned.

  Well, how bizarre, I thought, going over to pick it up. It was unharmed, and I still got that distasteful, shivery feeling when I touched the cover, almost as if it were alive. I set it down again abruptly.

  My gaze traveled to the large display case that dominated the wall in the far corner, where Aimee had been kneeling.

  “I wonder what Aimee was doing when she broke that sculpture?” I murmured to myself quietly. “She didn’t have a duster with her so she couldn’t have been cleaning. And she certainly didn’t want me to see those broken shards of pottery. Was there something hidden in that statue, too? Was it another silly riddle on a scroll? Gil’s right, there is definitely something strange going on here.”

  I was pulled from my thoughts by a soft scratching sound and I looked down to see Morris busily sharpening his oversized claws on the door jamb, leaving small scratch marks in the wood.

  “No, no,” I said quickly, scooping him up into my arms. “We’re not in a barn, Morris, if you want to be a house cat then you can’t just claw anywhere you feel like.”

  He bunted his head against my chin, breaking into a happy rumbling purr, and my heart melted. Just as suddenly he stiffened, lifted his head, and stared at the doorway, unblinking like an owl.

  “What is it, Morris?” I asked just as a floorboard creaked loudly in the hallway nearby. “Don’t worry, it’s just Belinda coming back.”

  But Aimee had left the door wide open when she had scuttled away and I could see now that the hallway was empty.

  “Old houses always make strange noises,” I told the cat, hugging him closer to my chest.

  But still I jumped when the floor popped loudly again, this time closer.

  “Hello?” I called instinctively, holding my breath as I waited for a response.

  Of course there was no answer and after a moment I relaxed. It was just the floors settling in this creepy old house. They did that back home at Greystone sometimes when the weather changed.

  Morris suddenly let out a loud yowling sound that nearly scared me out of my skin. He twisted in my arms and hit the ground with a thud, all his fur rising up on end as he stared at something outside the library.

  He puffed up like a Halloween cat and moved sideways into the hall, his tail lashing stiffly.

  Meeeeeoowwww, he said in a low warning voice.

  “Morris? What on earth has gotten into you? There’s nothing there.”

  With an angry hiss, he shot down the hallway toward the stairs. He turned back once to look at me with wide, yellow eyes, and then put a large paw on the staircase.

  “Morris, no,” I hissed, hurrying down the hall toward him. “We can’t go up there, you have to stay downstairs.”

  He paused for a moment to listen and then, like all members of his species, he ignored me completely and did exactly what he wanted anyway. By the time I got there, he was already up the stairs and on the landing, standing on his hind legs with his
front paws resting against the stained glass portrait of the Dark Lady.

  “Oh my gosh, Morris, no. Get down here.”

  He didn’t even look back; he was so intent on peering into the glass that he didn’t hear me at all.

  Aimee had already said in no uncertain terms that this part of the house was off limits, but I knew I needed to get Morris down from there before he started exploring any further. If I could catch him then I could distract him with his breakfast and he’d probably forget all about adventuring.

  I crept up the stairs to the landing, pausing to study the magnificent window up close. I could see now why people paid money to come and tour this place. The details in the glass were exquisite. I reached out my hand and lightly brushed it against the copper shoulder of the horse but the second I did a cold gust of air blasted down the hall toward me, tugging my hair, and running up and down my arms with icy fingers. I leapt back in surprise, wrapping my arms around myself to stave off the cold.

  As soon as the wind ruffled his fur, Morris let out another high-pitched otherworldly yowl and his orange, tabby coat puffed out until he was four times his size. He flattened his ears against his head and bolted the rest of the way up the stairs, disappearing into the dimly lit hallway above.

  There was a sudden scrabbling sound behind me, like claws click-clacking across the floor or a beetle scuttling, making my hair stand on end. I spun around but the foyer was empty, just the steady ticking of the grandfather clock behind me broke the silence. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be there anymore, not on this stairway and not in this house. I wanted to race to the barn and find Gil, throw Bally in the trailer and drive away from this place as fast as I could.

  “Morris,” I hissed. “Come back here, you coward.” But there was no sign of him.

  The icy wind disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived and I looked suspiciously at the stained glass but didn’t risk touching it again.

  Taking a deep breath, I climbed the last few steps to the upper floor, walking softly on the thick carpet. With any luck I could find Morris and escape back downstairs without anyone catching me up here.