Downstairs is as quiet as above. I blew the gas lamps out before retiring for the night, so instead of bothering to light them again, I use one of the candles on the hallway table. It’ll be more than enough light to see by since the moon is out and there are lots of windows in the manor.
Perhaps I was disturbed by something in a dream. Everything looks in order down here. The house is still locked up tight. Maybe some warm milk will help to settle my nerves enough to go back to sleep.
The kitchen is dark, but the glow from the fire slumbering in the cookstove along with the candle is enough to allow me to make my way to the icebox and retrieve the glass bottle of milk. I find the teapot and add the milk to it before setting it on the stovetop. It’s still warm enough to heat the liquid without having to stoke the fire.
Yawning, I start to turn around when a noise catches my attention. I stay still, listening for it. It sounded like footsteps, but that can’t be right. I’m alone in the house.
Or maybe Mr. Lewis came back early?
“Mr. Lewis?” I call softly, almost afraid to raise my voice. What if it’s not him? The doors and windows are still locked. I checked. No one could get in without a key. It has to be Mr. Lewis if someone is in the house.
The footsteps come into the kitchen, and my hands start to shake. There is someone in the house. Turn around, I order my stubborn feet, but they won’t move. Fear has frozen them in place.
“Hello, Matilde.”
He knows my name! Who is this?
“Did you really think she’d allow him to keep his bastard child in this home with her?”
Oh, God. This is Mrs. Harcourt’s doing. She hates my son because she’s been unable to give her husband a child. She’s sent someone here to kill my baby, to kill us. I won’t let anyone harm my son.
My feet unfreeze, and I take off running, my only intention to get to my baby. Cruel fingers twine in my hair and pull me backward against a wide chest.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” His breath stinks of liquor and rot. “You’re not getting out of here alive, little one.”
A sharp, stabbing pain assaults my middle, and I look down to see him pulling a knife out of my stomach. He plunges it in again and again before letting me fall. The pain is debilitating, and I can’t move. All I can do is watch as he walks out of the kitchen and listen as he goes upstairs.
To where my baby is sleeping.
***
Unknown number.
It’s called my phone three times in ten minutes. I typically don’t answer calls from people I don’t know, but this incessant ringing is getting on my last nerve.
“What?” I finally snarl into the phone. I’d been napping, something I really need to do if I’m going to go back in the ghost’s den. I’m still so tired I can barely hold my head up.
“Well, hello to you too, cher.”
“Who is this, and why are you calling my phone?” I grouch around a yawn. Really, did he need to ring the house down at the godawful hour of noon?
“My name is Cass Willow. Caleb Malone asked me to call you. Said you might have a ghost problem?”
Crap on toast. I completely forgot about that.
“Sorry. You woke me up. I don’t function well without sleep.”
“No worries, ma cher.” He has this silky-smooth voice only a life-long resident of New Orleans possesses. His French accent rolls off his tongue. “I’ve been known to murder for less.”
“I do have a ghost problem, but it’s a little more serious than your run-of-the-mill ghost who’s gone dark.”
“Do tell.”
“It’s a soul eater.”
His gasp is evidence he knows what I’m talking about. “I’d say you have more than a problem.”
I snort. That’s putting it mildly.
“She’s so full of hate, there’s no way I’m going to be able to convince her to move on, so we might need some help to force her.”
“We don’t have a blessed blade. My cousin Jimmy is up north with our only one, dealing with a rather nasty ghost victimizing children in an elementary school. Not sure when he’ll be back. Let us do some research, and we’ll meet up tonight at the site of the haunting. That sound good to you, cher?”
Well, dang it. I need a blessed blade. Not sure how else to deal with Miss Piggy otherwise, but I hope this guy can help. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’m all out of ideas.”
“Text me the address, and I’ll see you around nine tonight.”
“Sure,” I say around another yawn. “And thanks for helping on short notice.”
“It’s all good. It’s what we’re here for.”
I thank him one more time and hang up the phone. The bedside clock mocks me. Barely three hours of sleep. I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep, though. Once I’m up, I’m up. Bad habit I picked up when I was ten. Never did break myself of it.
Mary’s passed out next to me, having slept like the dead through all my grouchiness. Eric’s sprawled at the bottom of the bed. That boy could sleep through an earthquake.
They both refused separate rooms when we decided to try to sleep. They said someone needed to watch me because of what happened earlier, and Zeke agreed. Though, to be fair, neither of them will wake up unless I scream the house down. They are out.
Slipping out of the bed, I stumble as the dream I’d been having flashes in front of my eyes. I know exactly what it is. It’s Miss Piggy and what happened to her. I had been inside her pulling souls left and right. That isn’t done without seeing into her head a little.
What happened to her and her baby was horrible. I’m guessing the man set the house on fire to cover up the crime. I understand why she’s so angry and how that anger turned to rage, but it doesn’t give her the right to torment innocent little babies because hers died.
I’m quiet as I do my business in the bathroom then sneak out of the room, leaving Mary and Eric still sleeping. The first person I go looking for is my dad. He’s easy to find. The only place he ever really goes is his office.
He’s arguing with someone on the phone when I knock. He waves me in, and I flop down on his very cushy couch facing the windows with a view of the gardens. I love the gardens here. They’re overflowing with every flower imaginable and have been the inspiration for more than a few of my drawings.
“I don’t want any more excuses. Just get it done.” Zeke slams the phone down, and I glance at him askance. That didn’t sound good.
“Everything okay?”
“No. One of our food shipments to Africa disappeared. There were also vaccines in that shipment the children in that village needed. My people are telling me they can’t do anything, and I told them to get it done. I want that plane found.”
My dad does a lot of charity work no one really knows about. He supplies food and medicine to villages in countries that have nothing. I found out about it when he gave me an overview of what the Crane Corporation does on a global scale. I’m not the least bit interested in taking over the business, but Zeke insists I know the basics.
“That sucks.”
“Indeed.” He shoots another glare at the phone before turning his attention to me. “How are you, ma petite? Eric told me you were out for quite a while, and you had a headache.”
The very idea of a headache terrifies my dad. I’d almost died from brain seizures caused by my full-on reaping abilities combined with the demonic side of my heritage.
“It’s gone now. I think it was a stress headache, no big deal. Normal people do get headaches, Papa.”
“But you’re not normal, Emma Rose.”
Now, ain’t that the truth? I’d tried for so long to be normal and failed, just being me is a relief.
“I promise if I get a hint of those headaches again, I won’t put it off. I’ll go straight to the hospital. Cool?”
“Cool,” he said drolly. “Now, what are we going to do about your brother?”
“I don’t know.” I pull my feet up under me and settle back against the cushions. “What
do you think?”
“He’s lying.”
“I know.”
“Then why is he here?” Zeke’s blue eyes zero in on me.
“One thing I learned growing up in the system is you always keep a close eye on those you’re the most suspicious of. Until I know exactly what he’s hiding from me, I want to watch him.”
“And here I thought you’d gone soft.” The smile on my papa’s face is enough to make me laugh out loud. He and I share a lot of the same ideals. We’ve both had runs-ins with the police, and we always come out the other side smelling like roses.
“Never happen.” I clear my throat. “I hope he’s not here to try to hurt me. Mary and Eric are my family, my sister and my brother, but…”
“But it would be nice to have a blood relative who loves you as much as they do?” Zeke finishes for me.
“Yeah.” I feel bad thinking it because they are my family, and I wouldn’t trade one of them for a hundred Nathaniels, but at the same time, I want a sibling who shares a part of me.
“Don’t torment yourself over that, ma petite.” Zeke gets up and comes to sit beside me. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a familial tie to someone. Mary and Eric are your family just as much as your grandparents or I. They always will be. Doesn’t change the fact you want to get to know your flesh and blood. It’s only human.”
And there’s the crux of it. I’m not sure how human I am anymore. Maybe that’s why I’m clinging so hard to a relationship with Nathaniel. A relationship with my own flesh and blood reminds me I still have a part of me that’s human, a part that isn’t evil or a freak.
“What do you know about soul eaters?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Not a lot. I’ve never come up against one.”
“I have.” Just the memory of Jonas is enough to have me wrapping my arms around my knees. He almost killed me. If it hadn’t been for Silas helping me, I would never have done it. Though I might not have defeated him. I’d put him in The Between. Granted, he’d been weak, and maybe the wraiths had gotten him before he managed to feed.
“Tell me.” Zeke wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
This is the feeling I was missing when I hugged Nathaniel, this sense of home and completeness. I can feel how much my father loves me. Zeke, like Dan, makes me feel safe. Nathaniel makes me uneasy.
I spend the next twenty minutes telling Zeke about Jonas and how it was the first time I met the Malones. It makes me miss Eli, and a heaviness settles in my heart. I loved him. Not as much as I do Dan, but I did love him. If not for Dan, I would have given Eli my heart. I used to wonder what might have happened if Eli hadn’t died. I came to the realization if that had happened, the three of us—me, Dan, and Eli—would have gone through a lot of pain, and I still would have chosen Dan in the end.
“You miss him.”
My father’s words startle me out of my thoughts. I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. “Yeah, I do.”
Neither of us says anything for a few minutes. There isn’t anything to say.
“Dr. Olivet called while you were asleep.” Zeke uncurls himself from around me and goes to the door to call for Jamison. I hear him mutter something about orange juice, my favorite drink in the entire world. Dan always tells me I smell like the stuff since I drink so much of it.
“Did he say anything about Seth?”
“He hasn’t woken up yet. He asked if you would meet him at the library to keep digging for information that might help.”
Zeke laughs at the face I make. He knows how much I like libraries.
“He told you what happened to Seth?” I perk up when Jamison strolls in with a tall glass of OJ.
“Yes. He even asked me if I might have some advice on how to deal with your soul eater.”
“But you didn’t.” I take the juice and thank Jamison before gulping down half the glass in one go.
“No, unfortunately not. I did, however, put out a few feelers.”
“Caleb Malone put me in contact with some local hunters. They’ll be at the house tonight for added backup.”
“I am not sure I’m comfortable with you hunting, ma petite.”
“I’m not hunting.”
“Are you trying to rid a house of ghost?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Then you’re hunting.”
Good point.
“Well, yeah, when you put it like that, I am, but I’m only helping out on this one case.”
Zeke’s smile is almost indulgent. “Ma petite, you’re meant to help people. I realized it when you took your own soul apart to save your sister. It’s who you are, and despite how I feel about it, I think hunting is going to be a part of that.”
“You’re wrong. I came here not only to get to know my family, but to get away from who I was. I don’t want to be a freak anymore, Papa.”
“You are not a freak, Emma Rose Crane. Don’t you ever let me hear you say that.”
His outrage is palpable. Of course, he doesn’t think I’m a freak. He’s my father. Who happens to have the same freakish gift I do.
“You’re special. The things you can do are amazing. Why would you want to hide that away when you can use it to help so many people? To help those who can’t help themselves against forces they aren’t equipped to handle?”
Geez. He does have the guilt thing down. I think Mrs. Cross gave him pointers.
“I thought you wanted me to take over the family business.”
“I know how much it bores you, ma petite. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
It’s true. I’m an artist. Board meetings and hostile takeovers are so not me.
“You need to get married and have a son who can follow in your footsteps.”
He blinks at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “I’m perfectly happy as a bachelor.”
“Then adopt, but you need someone who loves the corporate world as much as you do.”
And it would give me a brother I could trust.
“Did you hit your head when you passed out?”
“No, but I’m serious. You need to start dating.”
And then my father blushes.
Hard.
“Wait…are you dating?”
“I wouldn’t call it dating, exactly,” he hedges.
“Uh-uh. ’Fess up. Who are you dating? Do I know her?”
“Well, yes.”
“Who?”
“Nancy.”
Nancy…my eyes widen, and my mouth drops open. “Nancy, as in my Nancy? How are you dating? She lives in North Carolina!”
“She did, but she moved here a month ago. She’s now working with our child welfare department.”
“And no one told me?” I shout. I can’t help it. Nancy is the closest thing I have to a mother. She fought for me in the foster care system, made me realize I was worth something, and worked to make sure I was taken care of. She was what kept me alive during those first few years in Charlotte. I miss her.
“It’s my fault. Nancy wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d react.”
“Are you kidding me? I love Nancy. Of course, I’d want to know she was here.”
He winces. “I mean about us dating.”
Nancy Moriarity is the one woman aside from my grandmother who keeps Zeke on his toes. She doesn’t put up with his nonsense and gives better than she gets. I think the two of them hooking up is an epic idea.
“Papa, Nancy is why I’m standing here right now. If it wasn’t for her not giving up on me, I don’t know where I might have ended up. She’s important to me. I’m not blind either. I saw what was going on between you two in Charlotte.”
Again, that blush flirts with his cheeks. It’s cute.
“I have no problem with you and Nancy dating. I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard all year.” Another thought occurs that dampens some of my excitement. “If you get serious, though, how do you think she’s going to react to me? To us? To this whole paranormal world she doe
sn’t realize she lives in? It might be too much for her.”
Zeke’s troubled expression has to mirror the one I’m wearing. “I don’t know, ma petite. I think it’s something we’re going to have to play by ear.”
“I guess.”
“You know no matter what happens, I love you, oui?”
“Oui, Papá. Je t’aime aussi.”
“Your French is getting better.”
“I have an excellent teacher.” I get up and give him a hug. “I better get to the library before Doc gets lost in the stacks.”
“I’ll have someone drive you.”
“No, my car’s here. Just make sure everybody gets home, and please be nice to Nathaniel when he wakes up.”
“That boy…”
“I know, but be nice anyway.”
“Fine, but only for you.”
Leaning up on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek and head out. Best not to keep Doc waiting. We don’t have a lot of time before nightfall, and I want to tell him everything I’ve learned.
Chapter Sixteen
I’d rather be in Antarctica wearing nothing but a bikini than walking into the public library. I can feel the cold all around me the second I step through the doors. The AC is on full blast, but this cold goes deeper. It seeps into the bones and makes your teeth ache. The place is as haunted as a battlefield.
After Katrina hit, the library suffered an extreme loss of their books, and donations from all over the country poured in, along with the ghosts attached to those items. They’re not all Casper the Friendly Ghost either. Some of the ghosts that reside here now are quite angry, not only at dying, but at being displaced from their homes.
I’d be pissed too.
Keeping my head down so as not to make eye contact with any of the spirits swirling around, I make my way to the front desk and ask for Doc. The librarian, a woman in her early forties, directs me to the historical records room. Of course, it’s in the basement. You’d think they’d learn not to put such sensitive information where a hurricane bent on mass destruction can get to it.
I bypass the elevator and head for the stairs instead. I’ve had one too many bad experiences in elevators. The morgue adventure being one of them. If I can take stairs, I do. It’s easier.
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