by Aimee Laine
Lexi circled back through what she’d read in the journal before, trying to piece images and timelines together. One entry led to another, suggesting George and Marge used their gifts while another contradicted that notion. She continued reading until she reached the end but finished without the answer she sought.
The one tidbit she did take away indicated Marge and George were absolutely, without a doubt, Lexi and Tripp’s celestial counterparts, and that others existed like them in the world, but not whether they kept their gifts or how they worked around them.
A peek out the window reflected calm winds at last, so with book in hand, Lexi climbed back down. She inhaled the straw and mulch scents one more time before she eased back through the big doors, imagining herself a lady of the manor.
Lexi wandered back over to the porch after a bump with her hip latched the barn doors in place. She tried her key at the house again with success the second time.
“This place gets weirder every time I come here.” She smiled to herself. “God, I love it.”
The emptiness of the house loomed. Smells from their breakfast four days before lingered—but in a good way. She imagined Emma and Missy, her two companions for the night, as they’d chatted and gabbed, drank too much wine and enjoyed each other’s company.
“Shit.” Lexi grabbed for her phone, redialing Missy’s number with a single touch.
“Wow. What happened?” Missy’s greeting made Lexi smile.
“Wind storm or something. Knocked the cell service for a loop. Happens down here sometimes.”
“Okay, but for two hours?”
Lexi flipped the phone around. How did that happen? “Uh … yeah. Just a bit of a hiccup.” She scratched at the side of her head. “I think we were talking about Sherrill when we last spoke?” Lexi headed through to the living room, ambling toward the bedrooms, imagining them in a new-build state.
“Yeah, so, anyway, Sherrill wants to meet you.”
“I remember you said that. Why? Thought you were just going to do some probing.” Lexi chuckled.
“Didn’t have to. She opened right up. Actually, she figured you’d be visiting her sooner or later. Turns out, she knows all those people you mentioned and even says you were very special to them.”
Lexi ducked into the bathroom and out again.” To Marge and George?”
Missy’s boisterous laugh carried for a minute. “And Mara.”
“I never met Mara … only saw pictures.”
“When was the last time you saw the Fergs, Lexi?”
“Last week when I brought Tripp over.”
“And he saw them?”
“Yes, of course. So did Ian and Emma.”
Missy’s chuckles bubbled through the line. “Oh, boy. Well, it seems the Fergs weren’t quite honest with you. Sherrill asked me to apologize on their behalf.”
“What do you mean?” Lexi leaned against the wall, breathing in the scents of the old farmhouse.
“The pendant was theirs, or rather hers—Mara—no, Marge’s. Sorry, I’m getting my words all scrambled. The pendant was Marge’s.”
She fingered the necklace. “You mean the one I’m wearing? The blue sapphire one? It was Mrs. Fergs?”
“Yes. It’s a tradition to be passed down from each female player in Zeus’s game.”
“Holy shit.” Lexi pushed herself away from the wall.
“Here’s the kicker, Lexi.”
“There’s more?”
“The Fergs’ place has been empty for … oh … about thirty years.” Missy sighed a contented, pleasant sound. “Sherrill told me you were chosen for this job. It was her Mom’s responsibility to make sure you got the pendant at the right time. But, her Mom passed away six months ago, so the role fell to Sherrill.”
“Um … wha—seriously?”
Missy giggled. “Yeah. There’s a painting of a woman, with a rather dashing guy, hanging in her house. I’m guessing that’s the old people you guys keep referring to. Anyway, she’s got this big-ass mansion in Annapolis with loads of antiques, gorgeous old stuff. Says her Grandparents left everything to her mother, who in turn gave it all to her, but the pendant was never meant to be hers. The way she put it, it was always supposed to be someone else’s, and that would be you.”
“But, why and how did she know to find me?”
Lexi twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she moved to the center of the room. The faded wallpaper, bowed wood and elements she thought of as character reformulated in her mind into decay.
Missy’s silence didn’t last long. “The right moment was apparently very loosely defined. When her ex-husband sent you to her, she took that as her sign.”
“What about … the Fergs? How were they … here?” A shiver ran the length of Lexi’s body. “If Mara passed away, and Sherrill is in her sixties … that would make the Fergs …”
“Somewhere around a hundred and thirty. Yup. So Sherrill had an answer for that, but she only guessed at it because her only job was to deliver the pendant.”
“Okay … and … ?” Curiosity had Lexi dropping to the floor, cross-legged and ready to focus.
“She said if her grandparents were given a chance to return to answer your questions, then someone was looking out for you.”
Lexi jerked back as her eyes widened. “Well … holy shit. You know Zeus started and stopped his games on a whim, but his wives often one-upped him. What if one of them intends for us to be together, and she’s made sure Marge and George could get around Zeus before he put a stop to us on his own?”
Missy sent a quick laugh through the phone. “As crazy as it sounds, it fits. The Fergs sound like amazing people, Lexi. Seriously. Sherrill said they had a lot of issues to work through when they were young because, as she put it, they each had very unique talents.”
“So they did keep their gifts.” Lexi twirled a curl around her finger. “What about Mara? Did she say anything about how she … came into their family?”
“Apparently, she was orphaned during a massive typhoon in some country in Asia Pacific. She was the light in her parents’ eye once they found her and adopted her.”
Found her. Found her-found her or just happened upon? I’m guessin’ the latter.
A deep sigh left Lexi as her fear of what Marge could have done drained away, replaced by the answers she’d sought. Marge and George had made it around the paradox. Mara had been their find after their marriage. They’d still kept their gifts.
The only question still remaining is how.
“Oh, and you wanna hear their signature line? Sherrill was so cute when she was telling me.”
“What’s that?”
“Success isn’t in the gifts we keep, rather what we give of ourselves.”
“That’s awesome—”
The kitchen door creaked open, closing with a light bang on the frame.
Missy chattered on as Lexi stood and made her way toward the sound. She stepped into the space between the living room and side entrance as a man, dressed in black pants and a white shirt, stood just inside.
She covered the mouthpiece with one hand. “Hi. Sorry, but the house already sold. I forgot, again, to take down the sign.”
“Yes, I know.” His dark eyes reflected no emotion.
A tingle sent the hairs at the base of her neck to a stand. She hovered her thumb over the keypad as his gaze fixed on her. “Can I help you with something, then?” She kept her voice airy and friendly, though it masked a fear which grew from within.
“Lexi?” A worried tone came through the phone.
“I’m not here for the house, but I’ll be happy to leave you to your phone call if you’ll give me the pendant around your neck.”
“What?”
“The pendant. The one I know you wear all the time. Now.”
“Why would you—How would you—” Oh, good Lord, Lexi, just give it to him!
“That doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
The man
limped in as Lexi moved back father into the house. Her only option for escape would be out a window or the front door, if she could reach either in time. She pressed the phone’s speaker against her leg, slid her fingers across the nine, the one and the one again in the hopes Missy would pick up on the tones.
He jumped toward her as she ran.
24
Night fell on the city of Paris as Tripp lay back into the bed pillows and clicked through a series of channels until he found one with subtitles.
He’d managed to get through customs without too much fuss by claiming the painting as a reproduction valued at less than a hundred dollars. At least when he left, it would be. When he’d hung the original in place of the fraud in the home of one Madame and Monsieur Rochelle on the Ile Saint-Louis, he smiled with the knowledge one wrong had been undone.
As he’d walked into his hotel for the night, Tripp’s heart thudded within his chest in a rapid series of beats. He sat up, pressing his hand against his ribs. Underneath, his heart beat at a frantic pace. The pressure reminded him of his time in Savannah.
Lexi.
Tripp grabbed his cell—a duplicate he’d bought to replace his poor excuse for anger management.
The first ring sent him straight to voice mail.
A pang had his mind whirling with possibilities. His second try reached Emma as his pulse jumped, and his mind raced through images he hadn’t conjured in a place he didn’t recognize.
“Hi, Tripp, been a while, hasn’t it?” Emma’s coy voice reached him from across the Atlantic Ocean.
He heaved a breath. “Where’s Lexi?”
“Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “I think … I’m okay. But Lexi …”
“You sound winded. Where are you? What’s wrong?” Fear took hold of her tone.
Each breath tore at Tripp’s chest no different than he imagined of a panic attack. “Paris. Where’s … Lexi?”
“She went out. Actually, she left almost three hours ago. Come to think of it … I haven’t heard from her. Have you tried her cell?”
Tripp breathed deep, trying to force his body to relax. “Yes. No answer.”
A new set of images jumped into his mind. That they came to him when he didn’t need cover had him focusing on them instead of his surroundings.
The rooms of his farmhouse passed through one by one until they turned dark with night.
“What time is it there?” he asked.
“Ah … four o’clock,” Emma said.
Not even evening.
“Hey, actually, hang on a sec. Missy’s calling me,” Emma said before her voice disappeared.
Tripp concentrated on the last image—the one that stalled him—digging for details, but he couldn’t get past the black.
“Tripp?” Emma’s tone wavered with worry.
“She’s missing, isn’t she?”
“Missy says she was on the phone with Lexi while she was at your farmhouse. Someone joined her there, and there were tones like she was dialing, which Missy didn’t pick up on until after she couldn’t get Lexi to respond. By then, at least three or four minutes had passed. The tones had to be 911, so she called me since she’s back in D.C.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yes. I just sent them over. I’m going to go. I’ll call you when I find out something.”
She clicked off without another word, and Tripp stumbled into a sense of helplessness. Before he let worry consume him again, he dialed Ian, summarized the problem and said, “See if you can find out what’s going on and call me back.”
“I’m on it.”
Tripp moved back to his bed, climbed to the middle and sat. He tried to cross his legs, but in his failed attempt, shifted to the headboard and leaned against it.
He pictured Lexi’s face, her body and her smile. His heart thudded again, producing another pass through of images in his mind—all of them black.
At the footsteps, he opened his eyes.
No one except for him.
What the hell?
Tripp brought himself back to the images in his head.
At the creak of movement, he popped his lids open.
Oh, god, I’m hearing things … in my head.
He closed his eyes as his heart bounced against his ribs. At any moment, he expected it to explode from his chest.
More flat black pictures passed. Dark space. Closet? Cellar? Shed? What is this?
The footsteps grew louder, slow and steady—a louder thump with every other move.
That’s not Lexi’s gait.
Tripp’s body shivered, though he didn’t feel the action—just knew it had happened. Fear burned through him, though again, only his heart and his head registered the emotion.
Hiding from someone?
The creak of a hinge, a sliver of light and her inward, but near-silent, gasps confirmed his fear.
Please let this work.
Tripp willed himself not to be caught.
Light pooled into the small space until it opened in a massive display of white.
From within the doorframe, the man Tripp recognized from Savannah—one of Isabelle’s boys—craned his neck as if in search of something he couldn’t see.
Stay completely silent.
No response.
The image before Tripp returned to black, and his heart calmed as the door closed again. Tripp opened his eyes to his hotel room, bright with the yellow walls and the four poster bed where he sat.
He grabbed his cell, dialed Emma again.
“We’re almost there,” she said.
“She’s in a closet. Don’t ask how I know, but he’s either still there searching, or now thinks she got away, so be careful. I know this guy, sort of—”
“You what?”
“It’s a long story, one Lexi only knows a piece of. I can get on a plane tonight—”
“No, no, let me take care of it,” Emma said. “No, wait, yeah, come on.”
“Do not, whatever you do, let her out of your sight until I’m back.”
“Okay,” she said.
He put through one more call before he prepared for bed. Ian would have a little work to do before Tripp arrived home.
I know how to get around the paradox.
• • •
Lexi couldn’t believe her luck. She’d tucked herself into the far reaches of the closet, into a space with no visibility in the hopes the location would also give her cover.
In her head, she heard Tripp tell her to be quiet and not to move.
She’d done exactly as his soothing voice had instructed, though why she believed he could be inside her head, she didn’t know.
Why didn’t I just give the man the pendant?
Emma would give her an earful, though she planned to wait at least an hour or until she’d counted to a thousand before she moved—in case he hadn’t given up.
Below, a herd of footsteps broke through, crashing along the floor as if a struggle had started.
As much as she wanted to believe the police had arrived, that Missy understood her distress signal, she couldn’t pull herself to move.
Male voices carried up the stairs.
Vibrations shook her closet from all sides. She closed her eyes like a child who thinks they can’t be seen, wishing the voice in her head would return.
“Lexi!”
At Emma’s muffled voice, Lexi scrambled up and pushed open the doors, letting her sister gather her into a hug.
“Oh, god, Lexi. I was so worried.” Emma hung on, wrapping her arms around Lexi’s shoulders.
“Ma’am?” A Rune police officer stood in the frame of the door.
“Ma’am, I’m Sergeant Dale. We have a male in custody outside. You’re safe now.”
Lexi peeled herself free of Emma’s tight hold. “I’m okay, Em.” She rose, but when she wobbled, Emma grabbed her and held tight again.
“Miss Shepherd?” the sergeant asked
“Yes,” the two sisters said.
The officer chuckled before he reined himself in and pointed to Lexi. “We need to ask you some questions. Can we go downstairs?”
Lexi followed the officer but kept her hand in Emma’s.
With no furniture, the Sergeant stopped them at the bottom of the stairs. “Sit here. Can you tell me what happened?”
Lexi recounted the experience, from the time she talked with Missy to the moment Emma opened the door, but left out the head games she thought she’d played with Tripp.
“Do you have any idea why this man would come after you?”
“After the pendant, you mean?” She retold the story from Savannah, though she didn’t understand where the new guy came from if Robert himself hadn’t come after her.
“Can you identify the man who attacked you?”
“I don’t know.” Lexi moved to the kitchen where Sergeant Dale pointed to a man standing outside by one of the marked cars.
“Who is he?”
“We don’t have all the information yet, but we’ll investigate. We may have more questions for you at another time, though.” He looked to Emma. “Will you be staying with her?”
“Hell, yeah, I will.”
The Detective grinned. “We’ll be in touch.”
A pat of Lexi’s pockets revealed she had her keys but not the journal. “Hang on. I need to get something.”
“What?” Emma trudged up the steps behind Lexi.
“The journal. I was reading it.” Lexi aimed her phone toward the corner of the closet, lighting it up just enough to see, and retrieved the book from the depths.
“Get any new revelations?”
“Actually, with what Missy told me and what’s in the journals—yeah. Some of the whys and wherefores, but it hasn’t changed how I feel. I just know, now, there’s a possibility of success.”
Emma sighed. “Why in the hell didn’t you just give him the damn jewelry?”
There it is. Lexi smiled, having expected the conversation. “I think that’s a record, Em. Longest time between normal conversation and yelling at me.”
Emma put her hands on her hips, the glare saying Lexi better answer or the recriminations would begin again.
“I don’t know exactly why. It just felt like I should keep it. Sherrill got it from her Mom, who got it from hers. But all along it was meant to be mine. Missy had just gotten through telling me where it came from when he came in. I’m supposed to have it. I have a question for you.”
