Shocked to see the address on the bill of sale, she’d been flummoxed to note that her father owned, not the whole building, but just the one apartment. She hadn’t known that was even possible. Now, here was another incongruous event.
“My dad doesn’t send Christmas cards.” She sidled out of Frank’s embrace, pulling on her shirt as she walked over to stare down at the faded green envelope. The greetings sent from the mortuary to various business associates had white envelopes with gilt ornaments dancing across the flap. Her well-organized mother invariably sent out the family’s holiday cards on the first of December without fail. Since death took her suddenly on the seventh, Amanda knew the pile of stamped and sealed envelopes she’d seen on the table by the front door were already mailed. Besides, this year’s card, Santa’s reindeers doing the cancan, were encased in red.
She turned the envelope over and over in her hand. There was no return address. Frank’s name and address was neatly penned in an unfamiliar script.
“This isn’t even my father’s handwriting…”
Frank took the card from her and ripped open the envelope. The folded paper inside was blank, no picture on the front, no writing—nothing.
“How odd.”
“I don’t like this.” Frank dropped the card, his face turned an odd shade of pale. He took a step back.
“What’s wrong?”
“God, I don’t remember. I didn’t even look for a card. Didn’t notice. How could I have been so stupid?” Frank gave his head a violent shake. “Wait. Maybe there is something.” He whirled and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.
Amanda picked up the missive. The cardstock was smooth, shiny, heavy. Thicker than a normal greeting card, even the ones that unfolded numerous times. She examined the paper, thinking perhaps there were several sheets stuck together.
“Here.” Frank came out carrying a binder. He flipped through the pages as he walked before pitching it down on the breakfast bar. The breeze generated by the heavy book whisked the paper out of her hands.
“Here, what?” Amanda stared at the pages filled with newspaper clippings.
Frank looked up at her, almost as if he’d forgotten who she was. “God, I’m sorry. I’ve discussed my suspicions so much, I forgot you wouldn’t already know I was talking about the suicides. I was going to look through the accounts, see if I missed something about a suicide note. I don’t think any of the victims left one, which isn’t unusual as…” Obviously realizing he was babbling, he simply flipped to the front of the binder.
Amanda read the headline aloud. “Mother Found Dead of an Overdose, Five Year Old Jumps from Sixth Floor Window. Tragic Accident or Suicide Pact?” Suicide? “Did people really think I jumped on purpose? Why would I do something like that?”
She read further, her disbelief growing. “I don’t understand. My mother didn’t die on Christmas Eve twenty years ago. My mother…” Stumbling to a stop, Amanda thought back. Memories assailed her. The cheerful, loving mother she remembered from her days in this apartment, the mom who read to her, played games, sang songs—that woman was a stark contrast to the one who had recently gone to her grave.
“Oh, God. They had the same name. Mary. After I got out of the hospital, she’d changed, lost weight, her hair was long. I had amnesia for the longest time after the fall. God, how awful, I never even realized she wasn’t my real mom.” She looked up at Frank, searching his face for clues. “I didn’t jump. Honest, I didn’t.”
“What happened that night, Amanda?”
A paralyzing pain shot through her head, settling into a rhythmic pounding behind her right eye. She stumbled over to the couch and sank to sit.
“Amanda. It’s important you remember. For the last twenty years, someone has jumped out of the window of this apartment to their death. The cycle began with you. You have to end it.”
Twenty years? Why? What was so important about that Christmas Eve? Closing her eyes, she tried to go back. Being in the hospital was her clearest memory. Incessant pain, intense physical therapy, and the smell of antiseptic and sickness overlaid with the pervasive scent of flowers. The memory made her gag. “I remember being in the hospital,” she began. Then, a flash of something else came back. “Oh, and the ride in the ambulance. I liked that they ran the siren.”
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Just kid-like not to realize the seriousness of the situation. There were also men’s voices, they sounded urgent and that scared me.”
“What about before that? Do you remember anything?”
“No.” Amanda tried but all she got was blank darkness.
“You’ve got to try, Amanda. Something happened. Twenty people have lost their lives.”
Amanda sat up with a start, the headache forgotten in her panicked understanding. If someone jumped to their death every year, that meant this year, the twenty-first victim would be… “You? Are you telling me that you’re going to be the next victim?”
The expression on his face told her she’d jumped to the right conclusion. When he didn’t answer, she pressed on. “You’ve been following these suicides for how long?”
“Four years.”
“Twenty deaths.” The thought was astonishing, unbelievable, and yet…
She grabbed the book from Frank’s grip, flipping the pages. Headlines, obituaries, notes written in a strong male hand.
“I didn’t note the coincidence until the third year. The address sounded familiar, then, when I got here…”
The headache returned, full force, the pain threatening to incapacitate her. Cloudy forgetfulness throbbing with hurt blocked everything.
“You’re the key, Amanda. You have to remember.”
“I want to, I really do. It’s just this damned headache.”
“I’ll get you something for it.” Frank stood. “Could it be low blood sugar? Would you like something to eat? It’s almost midnight, so everything is closed, but I can scrounge up a frozen pizza”
Midnight. Food. Amanda looked up at Frank, but she wasn’t seeing him. Once again, she was five years old, tired, hungry, and waiting for Santa’s visit. The clock on the mantle began to strike the hour. The swirling vague memories suddenly cleared.
She remembered!
Chapter Three
On the floor, the forgotten card flipped open, spewing forth an ashy cloud. Tasteless, odorless, and formless. At least at first. While Frank watched, the swirling mass thickened, coalesced, and then solidified into a sinister form.
The large front window slid open of its own accord, admitting a blast of cold air. The dark shadowy creature, now something out of the pages of a horror novel with stunted warped wings, curling horns, and flaming red eyes, grabbed Frank’s arm, propelling him toward the window. Amanda clutched his other arm and a ghoulish game of tug-of-war ensued with Frank in the middle.
God Almighty, so this is what happened to the old man last year, the lovely pregnant widow who had been the first victim, and all the others in between. Frank hadn’t expected something supernatural. His mind gravitated toward the real. A crafty serial killer or some devious virus.
A sharp bang on the door made the fiend pause, and Frank tried desperately to wrench his arm free from the inhuman grip.
“Mandy! Mandy!” A voice cried. “I saw your car downstairs. Are you in here?”
“Daddy?”
The clock chimed again, nearly drowning out the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. The door flew open. Mr. Spaulding stood in the portal, staring at the scene with wide eyes.
“Help us, please,” Amanda begged.
Her father rushed over, but instead of helping to pull Frank to safety, he pried his daughter’s fingers loose, locked her in a tight embrace and half-carried, half-dragged her toward the door.
Amanda kicked out, screaming.
“Honey, it’s okay. Really, it is. He has to die.”
“Like my mother had to die?”
“She was already dead.”
“You
liar!” Amanda snatched a handhold of the heavy black recliner, using it as an anchor while she stomped on her father’s foot. He let go of her with a howl, and she darted across the floor, grabbing Frank.
Cold with fear and panic, Frank had a sudden insight into the fear his accident patients faced. Death, lurking right around the corner, was entirely too close for comfort. He didn’t want to die, not here, not now, not this way.
The clock chimed.
“Amanda, listen to me. Your mother was dead when I got home.”
“No.” Tears poured down Amanda’s face. “Mom was furious, so mad she forgot to cook dinner and sent me to bed hungry. When you came in, you yelled at her about dinner. I heard you fighting. I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up again, it was cold in the apartment, and I was hungry. I heard footsteps and thumping. I thought it was Santa.”
“Oh, Mandy.” Mr. Spaulding held out his hands in entreaty. “Please, honey, don’t put yourself through this.”
“Put myself through this? This is your fault! You killed my mother. You were going to make it look as if she’d jumped.”
“I—”
The window ledge cut into Frank’s thighs. He grabbed the casing. A myriad of crisscrossed scratches marred the varnish. Other victims had fought for their lives as well. Too bad it hadn’t helped any of them, and unless a miracle happened in the next minute or two…
He refused to finish the thought. Digging his fingers in deeper, he wedged his body against the wall.
“I remember the only light came from the Christmas tree. There weren’t any packages. The window was open. I crawled up onto the sill to look out, to see if Santa was up on the roof. I fell.” Her eyes narrowed. “Laying there on the sidewalk, I could hear you talking to someone. Pleading, begging for my life.”
Mr. Spaulding walked over to his daughter, put his arms around her, and hugged. “You see why he has to die. I made a bargain, honey. Every year, I buy one more year of your life by giving the devil—”
Amanda shook off her father’s embrace. “I should have died twenty years ago.” She faced the nightmarish beast holding Frank captive. “Take me instead.”
The demon’s grip loosened.
“No.” Frank had prayed for a miracle, but this was not it.
Amanda’s eyes flooded with tears, but she lifted her chin bravely. “If I don’t die tonight, you will.”
“I can’t let you do this.” Frank moved toward the opening. “I won’t let you die in my place.”
Thinking to grab Amanda, get them both safely away from the window, Frank launched himself into the demon. It was like pushing against a cloud. How could something so insubstantial be so strong? The scent of brimstone filled the air.
The demon hauled him to the opening, pulling him off the ground. He kicked to no avail.
God, was this it? The end?
“No!” Amanda screamed, tearing at the demon, who paid as much attention to her as it would a spare spark from Hell’s fires.
Cold air caressed his back. Amanda’s weight, thrown against his legs, only pulled him down a few inches.
“Let go!” Frank didn’t want to die, but more than that, he didn’t want Amanda to die with him. The demon hoisted Frank higher as Amanda clung to the window sill. When he fell, there was no way she would be able to maintain her grip.
“Amanda, let me go.”
“Let him go!” The loud command startled Frank. Mr. Spaulding had joined the fray, trying to pry loose Amanda’s grasping fingers.
Amanda screamed, kicking at her father. Her nails bit into Frank’s calves. The pain grounded him, gave him focus. He couldn’t assault the demon, but he could help Amanda. Striking out with his fists, he landed several blows against Spaulding, causing the man to cry out and fall back.
Unfortunately, it also gave the demon a better angle to maneuver him out the window. Frank closed his eyes. The prayer that leapt to mind was the one that as a child, he’d always said before bed. If I should die before I wake…
His heart stuttered in his chest as a rush of wind assaulted him. Then, he felt a blow against his chest…the sense of falling, and then a sudden, too soon impact. A scream shattered the silence. A man’s scream. His scream? Frank’s upbringing taught him that there was no pain after death. So, why did his ankle throb? Had he somehow miraculously survived the fall?
Frank slowly opened his eyes. Confusion abounded. He was on the floor of his apartment, not on the cold, hard sidewalk. The weight on his legs was Amanda, laying across him, her entire body heaving with sobs.
The demon had disassembled, still present but nothing more than a hovering gray cloud.
“What the—” Frank jumped up and leaned out the window. The body of Amanda’s father lay sprawled on the sidewalk. As Amanda joined Frank at the window, he tried to block her view.
“Is he dead?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not. He killed my mother. I grew up struggling to understand why I didn’t love her. I had good memories before the accident, but after was a nightmare. When she died, I was happy. I thought if I knew why I’d changed after the accident, I would be able to grieve.” She gave a short laugh. “Well, I understand now. The mother I had all these years wasn’t my real mother, simply a cruel replacement.”
“I’m still sorry.”
The clock on the mantle wheezed, the hands stood frozen at midnight. The shock of Amanda’s father nearly made him forget about the demon. He whirled. The amorphous cloud began to take form again. Why was it still here? Hadn’t Spaulding’s death satisfied the curse for this year?
Frank pushed Amanda behind him, determined to fight to the death if necessary to keep her safe.
“No, it’s okay,” Amanda used her hip to push him aside. “If the demon wants another bargain, he won’t get it. The curse stops with me. If I don’t die, more innocent victims will. I won’t have any more deaths on my conscience.”
Frank stared at the woman standing in front of him, feeling her fear. Hell, he could even hear her teeth chattering. When she’d come into the apartment earlier, he’d thought her a spoiled young woman brimming with rebellion and spite. What a fool he was to judge her from the ill-kempt cover she presented. This was a woman determined to right wrongs and take chances, a woman he could have loved if given the chance. Now, it was too late.
He opened his mouth to beg for her life when, in the far distance, a feminine scream slashed through the silence.
The demon stilled, canted its horned head, the evil, fanged mouth forming a sly smile. The scream rang out again. This time, Frank could hear faint words in the cry, a voice pleading, “Oh, please, please don’t be dead. I’ll do anything to bring you back to life. Anything!”
The demon disappeared.
Epilogue
Before the ground settled on her father’s grave, Amanda hired a crew to remodel the place. Updated appliances, a large sectional and widescreen television, and new bedroom furnishings made it look reborn. Even the atmosphere felt different.
Frank flipped open the frayed manila file. He’d called in several favors to get hold of this. He pulled out an x-ray film and held it to the light. Everything he’d read and seen so far substantiated his suspicions.
The door opened. Amanda swept into the apartment, and Frank’s heart surged in response. Even she looked like a new woman. Gone was the horrible black dye job. Her natural honey gold locks had been cut into a sassy bob and a single pair of diamond earrings sparkled in her lobes. Gone, too, was the pale complexion. Lord, if it didn’t sound trite, he’d say she glowed with health.
“Did you find anything?” She nodded toward the papers spread out in front of him.
Startled, he questioned how she knew he was looking into her medical history. With a start, he realized she was talking about something entirely different. “About the curse?”
“What else?”
The demon’s curse. Both he and Amanda were sure that the only reason her life had been spared w
as because somewhere in the city, that unknown grieving woman made a bargain with the devil. Since Christmas Eve, they’d scoured the papers looking for articles detailing accidents or other life-threatening events that had an unexpectedly fortuitous outcome. Did they think they’d be able to break the curse? Perhaps not, but at least they could warn the potential victims before more lives were lost.
“I’ve found two possibilities. But that’s not what I’m looking at.”
She plopped down beside him at the table and slid the papers he’d been studying from his fingers.
“My medical records?”
“You wouldn’t have died.”
“Duh, of course I didn’t die. The demon’s curse saved me, you know that.”
“Amanda, listen to me. You were badly injured, no doubt about that, and if medical attention hadn’t arrived when it did, you could have died. Maybe. But your injuries were never life-threatening.”
The expression on Amanda’s face changed. In her eyes he saw an emotion he hadn’t seen before. Hope? “What are you saying?”
“The bargain your father made. The demon bluffed.” Frank took her hands in his. “You wouldn’t have died.”
“Then all those people—”
Frank hushed her, not because he didn’t want her to think of those other deaths, but because he was thinking about those twenty people all morning. He’d punctuated his search of Amanda’s medical records and statistics of fall victims to investigate something else. Demons. If what he’d learned was true, that a demon’s bargain was only in force for the life of the other party in the contract, Jeremy Spaulding had not only paid the yearly price for his daughter’s life but had cleared the entire debt. “You aren’t to blame.”
“No, my father is.” Amanda sighed. “Still, you can’t expect me to just brush off all those wasted lives. Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know you all that well, it’s only been a few months since we met, but you aren’t living. When we talk and especially when we make love, I can tell you aren’t sharing all of yourself. I believe it’s because you’re afraid that come next Christmas, the curse will take you.”
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