Cross Your Heart

by Michele Bardsley

  Had my family, and the other founding families of Broken Heart, done something so awful it had created paranormal repercussions all these years later? Was that why my great-grandfather bought a manse in south Tulsa—the same home my parents lived in now—to escape what had happened here so long ago? And was that why Uncle Josiah had finally fled to Alaska? Had he lived and died alone because he’d been tormented by whatever lived in the attic?

  “We should go to my parents’ house,” I said. “When my great-grandfather moved to Tulsa, he took a lot of heirlooms. It could be that valuable information is tucked away in some antique bureau or in his old papers. My family keeps everything.” I knew for certain that my grandfather’s room had been kept intact and was rarely used by my parents.

  “Good idea,” said Tez.

  My mind was already racing ahead, past the research I knew must be done at my parents’ home. Luckily, they had gone to Europe, again, and no one would be home to bother me with questions. I did so hate Mother’s queries—and she would certainly have a thing or two to say about Tez. I loved my parents, but they could be such snobs.

  I was thinking now about the story Jessica had told me about how the town had gotten its name. Before the town had incorporated, Mary McCree, despairing because her husband had been unfaithful, drowned herself in the creek. Jessica said that before Mary had completed the terrible act, she cursed the place, saying that anyone who dared to live and love here would know her heartbreak.

  Her daughter demanded the place be called Broken Heart, as penance for her mother’s death.

  I didn’t know if the story was true; oral histories weren’t always accurate. Without newspapers or other confirmation, we couldn’t know for sure. However, when the Consortium had swept into Broken Heart and rescued those of us killed by Lorcan, Broken Heart had the highest rate of divorces and unwed mothers in the state. I couldn’t help but throw those facts into the mix and wonder about their implications.

  Coincidence?

  Or the curse?

  Chapter 8

  “What are you thinking,Ellie?”asked Tez.

  At least he’d left off the “Bee” part.

  “About the Broken Heart curse.” I told him about Mary McCree and how, as everyone generally believed, the town had been named.

  “You think the bones you found were hers?”

  “No,” I said. “I think I found Elizabeth.”

  “And she is . . .”

  I shook my head. “You know how they say many myths start with a seed of truth?”

  “You mean like all those legends about werewolves and vampires?”

  “Ha, ha. But, yes, that’s what I mean. Maybe the Broken Heart curse is real. Maybe it was trapped in this room, and when Patsy and Gabriel broke inside here, they released it.”

  “That’s a helluva leap. Now it’s not a ghost or a demon, but a . . . a living curse? I liked it better when we decided you’ve got a ghost after you.”

  “Or a really annoying demon,” said a female voice from the doorway.

  We turned. Neither Tez nor I had heard the approach of others. “Phoebe! Connor!” I hurried to my friends and gave them both a hug. “You certainly got here fast.”

  “Connor’s got the transport mojo,” said Phoebe. “And it sounded urgent. Especially since Patsy is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

  “Hey, I like her,” said Tez.

  Connor’s brows rose and a proprietary hand snaked around his wife’s waist. Wasn’t testosterone delightful? Humph.

  I made the introductions, and then Tez and I stepped aside while Connor and Phoebe examined the room.

  “Five of everything,” said Connor, his Scottish accent thick. “Ach. Not good.”

  “Really weird vibe here,” added Phoebe.

  I felt like a hot brick slid from my chest into my stomach. “Demonic?”

  “Sorta,” said Phoebe. “I’ve never felt this kind of energy before.”

  “ ’Cause it’s ancient,” said Connor, “an’ rare.” He glanced at me, and the look in his eyes frightened me. “The obsession with five makes me think we’re dealin’ with Mammon.”

  “What’s a Mammon?” asked Tez. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close, but I wasn’t sure if he meant to comfort me, or himself.

  “He’s a prince of the underworld, like my father, but much, much older. Most of the demons that have been around as long as Mammon are . . . Well, I guess asleep is the word. Demon offspring aren’t born like humans. They’re created from the energy of the ancients deep in the Pit. Then many of ’em spend centuries climbin’ into the upper levels, and some break through on the earthly plane.” He gestured around the room. “But someone invoked Mammon’s power.”

  “You mean there’s an ancient demon walking around Broken Heart?” I was horrified. About a year ago, the entire town had been attacked by a demon named Lilith and a legion of her demons. Thanks to Phoebe and Connor, as well as help from the goddess Morrigu, Lilith had been defeated.

  Connor shook his head. “Mammon wouldna leave the Pit. The ancient demons are Hell, if that makes any sense. Their energy creates an’ sustains other demons. Ancients . . . I suppose you’d say they specialize in darker qualities, and those traits create the purpose of their children.”

  “And Mammon’s purpose?”

  “The original demon of greed,” said Connor. “In all its forms. Greed has many facets—money, love, ownership.”

  “So greed could turn into lust or into jealousy?” I asked.

  Connor nodded.

  “If this demon is as badass as you say,” said Tez, “then what would entice him to give away some of his power? A human called on Mammon, right?”

  My thoughts aligned with Tez’s. Someone who lived in Broken Heart more than a hundred years ago—someone who thought they needed help to get what they wanted—had invoked a demon.

  Like Jeremiah Silverstone.

  Dear God. Had my ancestor brought down the wrath of a demon on himself and this town? I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept. I was the one who’d suggested the curse had been released, but I hadn’t realized how close my supposition might be to the truth.

  “Sacrifice interests Mammon,” said Connor. “Nothing less than a blood offerin’ woulda made him take notice. After that . . . I dinnae know.”

  “Well, if Mammon’s not really here, then what’s walking around Broken Heart?” asked Tez.

  “He probably sent a shadow.” Connor examined the shelves, frowning. “Shadows are reflections of their creator. Same qualities. Same desires. They tend to be obsessive.”

  “Like collecting the same number of objects over and over?” asked Tez.

  “Exactly,” answered Connor. “And Mammon’s shadows are particularly obsessed with the number five.”

  “Think of shadows as demon lite,” said Phoebe. She was near the trunks, disgust worming across her features as she stared at them. “They’re not as strong or as smart, but they are relentless. They’ll fulfill the purpose they were called for, no matter what.”

  “They’re temporary, though,” said Connor.

  “What’s temporary mean for demon lite?” asked Tez.

  “Couple of centuries, maybe.” Connor pointed to the knickknacks. “These are tokens. They were stolen from the people chosen as sacrifices. Havin’ these gave the shadow control over ’em. Keep an object long enough and it’s imbued with your essence. Even the tiniest bit can give a demon power over you.”

  “Seriously,” Tez whispered to me. “This town is really fucked-up.”

  “Let’s find out for sure what we’re dealin’ with,” said Connor. He joined his wife and they turned toward the center of the room. Phoebe looked at us and made shooing motions. “Move back.”

  Tez and I did as she asked, plastering ourselves against the far wall.

  Using hand gestures and uttering words in a language I didn’t know, Phoebe and Connor created sparkly black ropes of light that weaved into intricate patt
erns above the center of the floor.

  “Holy damn,” murmured Tez.

  Their magic thickened the air with the scent of sulfur. I felt electrified by whatever they were doing. The back of my neck tingled, and I found myself squishing against Tez. He held on to me, and I clutched his forearm. I could feel the goose bumps formed there.

  Then the interwoven ropes drifted to the floor and then . . . bam! The magic blasted onto the wood planks. The spell revealed a circle etched into the floor. Within the circle were drawn five symbols I didn’t recognize along with odd squiggles and crossed lines in between. Connor seemed particularly interested in the middle symbol.

  Then the black sparkles completely dissipated, and everything that had been visible on the floor disappeared.

  “Mammon,” said Connor. He turned his gaze to the doorway, which made the rest of us do so as well.

  Lenette Stinson stood there. She was a lovely woman with loosely curled red hair and moss green eyes. She wore a long black dress cinched with a wide green belt and underneath the swirled skirt, a pair of black ankle boots. Several strands of necklaces in various colors and lengths hung off her neck; and she wore two rings: on her left, a large emerald set in gold; and on her right, a pure silver band that covered her forefinger from bend to knuckle.

  “What kind of moron locks a demon in an attic?” she asked. She pointed from the top of the doorjamb to the floor. “It was amateurish at best, but it did the job.”

  “It’s bespelled?” asked Phoebe.

  “It was. The seal was easily broken by Patsy. It couldn’t have resisted her innate power. She’s too strong. No doubt she opened the door and walked through it without any resistance.”

  Fear feathered through me, but I was tired of feeling scared. I couldn’t control the demon, but I could control myself. And what I did next.

  “So,” I said, as I moved away from Tez and gazed around the room. “We are dealing with an ancient demon’s shadow, one that apparently didn’t fulfill its purpose before it was caught.”

  “And that’s what it must be doing now,” said Tez. “But what does that have to do with your attacking ghost?”

  “You don’t think it’s the same thing?” asked Phoebe.

  “No, I don’t. The ghost shows up and tries to choke her to death. Then, when she goes to find the grave, she’s attacked by a real person,” continued Tez. “I’m betting on the Gabriel doppelganger.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “Why would the demon use a ghostly form to scare me when he was already pretending to be Gabriel?”

  “He knew where she was buried,” said Tez. “He was going to the grave, too, but you found it first.”

  “Why would he need to find Elizabeth’s grave?”

  “Just another question we gotta answer, princess.”

  Lenette stepped inside the room. “Ugh. This place is awful. I can feel my aura shriveling.” She looked at Connor and Phoebe. “Perhaps a cleansing is in order?”

  “Not yet,” said Phoebe. “We need to look at everything carefully and make sure there are no traps or spells we’re unaware of.”

  “Getting rid of the shadow won’t be that easy,” said Connor. “It would help to know what it’s trying to accomplish so we could figure out the reversal spells.”

  “Well, I can add protections to the house,” said Lenette. “Maybe that will slow it down.”

  “I think it’s time to leave and let them work,” I said. I dragged Tez toward the exit. I didn’t want to spend another second in the room. I’d had enough of feeling choked, whether by invisible hands or the cloying ick of this location. I felt like the longer we stayed here, the bigger the chance something bad would happen. It was an irrational feeling, one fueled by my fears, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to get as far from the mansion as possible.

  Besides, I had a plan to implement.

  “You’re right. Everything’s tied to the past,” I said as we made our way out of the deplorable space. “We find that link and we might be able to stop whatever the shadow is trying to do.”

  “Think we’ll wrap up in a day, do you?” asked Tez.

  I smiled to hide my trepidation. “Of course.”

  When we returned to the kitchen, Gabriel was there along with Patrick, Jessica, and Damian. Startled, I stopped suddenly, and Tez plowed into my backside. His hands went around my waist. “Whoa, princess.”

  “I’m me,” said Gabriel, his gaze bouncing between me and Tez. One blond eyebrow winged upward, but I ignored his curious look. “Dr. Michaels confirmed my DNA and Lenette did an identity spell.”

  “Well, I’m relieved you’re you,” I said. “How’s Patsy?”

  He shook his head. “She’s still sleeping. She looks like hell.” His voice was ragged with pain. The poor man looked as though he’d aged a decade or two . . . and shifters didn’t really age. They weren’t immortals per se, but they did live hundreds of years. Empathy welled, and I wished I could help him.

  “Well?” asked Jessica impatiently. “What’s going on up there?”

  Tez and I took turns revealing what we’d found out from Connor, Phoebe, and Lenette. I finished up the explanation with, “Connor thinks we shouldn’t do anything magicwise until we figure out what the shadow’s doing. But Lenette is going to add some protection spells.”

  “And I’ll put a security detail in the attic,” said Damian. “We already have patrols around the house and garden.”

  “Eva and Lorcan are combing through the archives and library again,” I said. “Tez and I are going to my parents’ house in Tulsa to do some research of our own. It’s possible my great-grandfather saved items, maybe even papers, from the time period we’re looking for.”

  “Why all the hubbub about old paperwork?” asked Jessica.

  “We need to start somewhere. The room is definitely original to the house,” I said. “I have to assume Jeremiah Silverstone built it, and I can’t imagine it served a good purpose. Tez and I have a theory.” I looked at him. I don’t know when I had started thinking of us as a team, but I couldn’t deny that’s exactly how I felt.

  He took the conversational ball and ran with it. “Something really shitty happened. And it was so awful everyone who lived here got rid of the evidence and did everything possible to cover it up. Elizabeth told me about Mary McCree. Maybe her death wasn’t a suicide. Or maybe it was, but not for the reason everyone thinks. It may have something to do with the body Ellie found in the woods. And it damn sure has something to do with that demon’s shadow.”

  “Dr. Michaels is examining the bones now,” said Damian. He was leaning against the center island, his arms crossed. He seemed a little less hostile toward Tez, but, if I knew Damian, he wouldn’t be satisfied about Tez’s identity or purpose until he’d proven it for himself. “All he can tell me so far is that you were right about the gender—definitely a woman. And the bones are old. He’s running tests now to figure out how old. We uncovered some scraps of clothing, too.” His lips quirked. “He asked about the skull.”

  “Oh!” I felt like an idiot. I should’ve handed it over sooner, but, honestly, it hadn’t occurred to me. How strange I felt so attached to some dead woman’s skull. It was rather macabre. “It’s in the car. We’ll drop it off to Stan.”

  “So, you don’t know if she was murdered?” asked Gabriel.

  “Not yet,” said Damian.

  “She was strangled,” I said. “And her name was Elizabeth, too.”

  “You sound sure,” said Jessica.

  “I am.”

  Since we were all paranormal beings living in a paranormal town, no one doubted my surety about this—even though I had no proof. If you learned one thing living in Broken Heart, it was to take a leap of faith. Not much was impossible for us.

  “We’re calling a Council meeting,” said Gabriel. “While we figure out what’s going on and Patsy recovers, we must, as she has told me so often, keep on keeping on. Everyone stay in touch. Hopefully, we will resolve our prob
lems quickly.”

  “Daddy!” Three blond whirlwinds shot into the kitchen and gathered around their father, all talking and trying to claim his attention. The triplets were angelic in features, if not temper. Patsy wasn’t the type of mother to dress her triplets in look-alike clothes, but the girls tended to choose the same type of dresses and colors. The boy wore a graphic tee and jeans. MaryBeth leaned against the doorway to the kitchen; she had that same happy, but exhausted, expression I’d seen so often on mothers’ faces. Like me, MaryBeth would not have children of her own; I’d made my choice early in life, but hers had been taken from her. She crossed the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee for herself. She glanced at me and mouthed, “Patsy?” I shook my head. She nodded, obviously concerned about her employer and friend.

  Gabriel crouched down so he could hug his children. He spent time talking to each one, and then he shushed them. “How would you like to stay with Jessica and Patrick for a while?”

  This suggestion was met with great enthusiasm. At least it explained why Jessica and Patrick were here. Patrick was a member of the Council, but Jessica was too blunt to do well in any political forum. Patsy was blunt, too, but she had learned a lot about decorum and navigating the minefields of politics. Jessica—ah, not so much.

  “Where’s Mommy?”

  “Napping. You’ll see her soon.”

  The voices started again, and Gabriel’s attempts to calm them went unnoticed. Finally, Patrick scooped up the girls and Jessica, the boy. They squealed in delight and then started talking again, asking questions so quickly that neither Jessica nor Patrick had time to formulate answers.

  “I’ll pack their clothes and toys and get their car seats ready,” said MaryBeth. She took a moment to place a comforting hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, then followed Patrick and Jessica out of the kitchen.

  “Gabriel, is there anything more we can do for you?” I asked. I was feeling inadequate and, vaguely, as if everything unfolding was somehow my fault. I could certainly lay the blame at my ancestor’s door, so in a way, it was my fault.