The diary lay spread open on the table. Danior had a notebook in front of her.
“We’re trying to translate this thing,” Danior said, keeping her eyes glued firmly to the book.
“Any luck?”
Danior puffed out her cheeks. “It’s slow going. The journal is pretty big and we have no idea exactly where Elsa made her find. Plus, we’re using Google Translate so it’s not always accurate. Did you get a hold of Raymond?”
“Sure did. He should be here any minute.”
14
M ALLORY sipped her tea and watched patiently as Raymond worked to translate the first half of the book. She couldn’t help but feel bad for all the nasty things they’d said about him. He was really coming through for them now. He looked up from the page. “Heavy stuff.”
“What does it say?”
Raymond cleared his throat. “I’ve the gift of intuition and all my life, no matter how I try to change things, my visions come true. By the age of eleven, an evil man named Adolf Hitler was in power. I’m sure by now you know who this is—a maniacal power-hungry monster bent on hurting people.”
Raymond paused to sip his tea.
Mallory took the sheet of paper and read the rest of the entry: Mami allowed me to use her cards and that’s when the premonitions intensified. In my visions, I saw the government rounding up citizens and shipping them to labor camps, where every door to life was closed. Hitler’s SS henchmen targeted many. Sadly, I saw what Mami had prepared me for—our entire family was marked. The women of our vista, including my daj and phenyan were destined for the ghetto, a place where they would labor and starve. The men would fare no better. My dati and phral would eventually be gassed. The elders like my bapo would die much sooner, unable to survive the initial interrogation. And my beloved Mami … she would die first. She would pass away the day we were taken, saving me from a nasty beating.
I would have given anything to erase this knowledge, but it was as good as burned into my mind. Leading up to the horrible day, Mami pressed me daily to use her cards. I didn’t understand why but I followed her instructions, regardless.
Danior read the passage next and then frowned. “So Mami is referring to her grandmother but who is she talking about when she says daj, dati, phenyan and phral?” Danior asked.
Mallory put her mug down on a side table and slid down onto the floor next to the coffee table, ready to help Danior with the translation. “Daj and Dati, means mother and father but I’m not sure about the other two. There’s a dictionary right there or you could Google it.” Mallory slid the dictionary around so that it was facing Danior then stood up to stretch her back and legs.
A man stopped in front of the open doorway. “Phenyan and Phral means sisters and brother.”
Danior smiled in his direction. “Thanks. That makes sense.”
Mallory paused, unsure whether to slam the doors or greet the man. He smiled and held out his hand with a half-hesitant smile. “Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. I was wandering by. You must be Mal.”
“I am,” Mallory said, with a nod. “No apologies necessary, but have we met?”
He was dressed in a slim fitting sweater and his aura was the color of confidence. Mallory was sure she would have remembered meeting him. Not many people were that sure of themselves on a first meeting.
“I’m Seb. I checked in a couple of days ago. You were giving the vloggers a tour,” he said speaking with a faint Indo-European accent which sounded familiar.
“Are you Romanian?” Mallory asked.
“Da,” The man answered. “What are you working on there?”
“It’s our Great-Grandmother Simza Horvath-Vianu’s diary,” Danior blurted. “We’re trying to find—”
“It’s nothing, just a boring old journal,” Mallory said, cutting loose-lips Magoo off.
“Your Nana’s family hails from Romania, do they not?”
“Her parents were born there, yes, although they were often on the move. I’m sure you’re familiar with the bohemian lifestyle if you know such words. Nana lived mostly in Greece and France.”
“That’s where she met Grandpa Mikhail,” Danior chimed in. “She moved here with him. This was his family’s manor.”
“It’s quite the place. I felt as though I were on some fantastical movie set when I arrived.”
Mallory chuckled. “We’ve heard that a few times. Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Vianu made his money in the lumber business and then passed it on to his son Tobar who used a great deal of the fortune to build this place.”
“He was a magician, wasn’t he?”
“He was, but that didn’t quite pay the manor’s upkeep which is why my grandparents Ion and Simza turned it into a hotel. As you can see, they did quite well with it.”
“Simza, the author of your boring diary.”
Mallory said nothing. She was getting weird vibes from this guy.
“It’s nice of you to stay on and help out. Do your parents live here as well?”
“I’m afraid my parents have passed on.”
“My apologies. How rude of me to bring up.”
“It’s alright. You couldn’t have known. Were you on your way to breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you should hurry. It’s done at 10am.”
“Thank you. Good luck with your translation.”
Mallory watched as he disappeared. A few seconds later, she pulled the parlor’s doors shut and locked them with a click. They couldn’t risk any other intruders.
Raymond continued working for the next hour and each time he finished with a page, he read the first paragraph aloud and then handed it to Mallory or Danior to read.
“I loved the cards. They felt smooth and shimmered and pulsed with energy, especially the star, but sometimes the truth I saw in them hurt. One day Mami asked me if I could see another way. We stared at each other in a moment of deep understanding and then I shook my head. The raids were going to happen. Our beloved camp would come under a siege no matter where we went or what we did,” Raymond sighed as he put the pen down and rubbed his face with his hands. “I skipped ahead. It mentions her life here and her son Mikhail. Did Nana know her? This Simza?”
Mallory’s forehead puckered. “No. As far as I know my great-grandmother died before Nana met my grandfather Mikhail. He met Nana while traveling France in the 1970s. They fell in love and she came home to the Manor with him where they married and she gave birth to my mother Jilli.”
Raymond nodded, closing the diary and handing it over. “Is it okay if we call it a day? I’m not feeling my best.”
“Of course,” Mallory murmured as she accepted the book and the last translated entry from his hands. She had noticed that his grey pallor had darkened. He was definitely worried about something.
15
T WO days before the anticipated raid, I helped Mami to bathe. While I brushed her hair dry, she told me how she’d foreseen all of this when my mother Beta was born. It was the moles she said. Moles were bad luck. She knew our family would die in captivity—the worst fate imaginable for a free-spirited family. I could sense the change in the air as Mami-Nadya spoke, and it hit me that we would soon no longer have these simple comforts. She admitted that, in her desperation to save us all, she had cast a spell. You see, Mami Nadya’s mother practiced the art of witchcraft and although Nadya had refrained from the arts when she married, she hoped to save us with her paranormal talents. The spell, had it worked, would have allowed us to walk through a reflective surface, thus escaping the SS men who were coming for us tomorrow. We would come to safety on the other side. Only the spell didn’t work. Nothing changed, and she still foresaw us all dying and so she knew our fates were sealed. Some destinies were not meant to be changed. Mami’s eye twitched when she said it; it was the only sign that Mami was bothered. I hugged her tight, feeling my grandmother’s love and wishing I could stop time forever.
In that moment, Mami looked at me strangely. Apparently, I’d spoken th
e words aloud, or she’d read my mind, which she’d been known to do. I’ll never forget what she said to me: “That gives me an idea, child, thank you.”
The next evening, she appeared beside me in the dark and lifted my chin. I stared back at her. There were tears glistening in her eyes.
Mami brought my hands to her lips and kissed them. The time we had both foreseen had come.
“Did you have the dream?” she finally asked.
Tears sprang to my eyes. “Men will swarm the camp. Dati and Daj will be dragged to the back of different trucks, kicking like wild horses.”
Mami reached out to me. “And what did you see of yourself, Simza, my chaj?”
“I will be tortured by a cruel doctor.” I curled up on her blanket and felt Mami’s frail hand stroke my hair, thinking of the SS soldiers who would force us apart and kill her in front of me. I could hear my mother and sister’s screams in my head.
“I don’t want you to die,” I cried.
“We have no choice. Our fates are sealed but yours, my dear girl is not.” Mami took my hands in her firm grip. “You will run away tonight. I will tell you where and when to go.”
“Will you come with me?”
“You know that is not my destiny.”
“It’s not my destiny either, Mami.”
“Oh, but it is. We cannot see our own destiny, only the outcome most likely to happen if we do nothing,” she responded. “Look now. Do you see any future where I come with you and survive?”
“Yes.”
“I know when you lie, my chaj. I can see inside your mind. If I am to die, then I will do it here with the others. I mustn’t slow you down or jeopardize the future I have now made for you.”
We stayed quiet for a few moments and then my grandmother began to sing. I knew Mami was right and so while everyone slept, I gathered my things with the stealth of a thief. Under the faint streams of moonlight, Mami helped me pack my suitcase of treasures. It contained our most valuable things—she said they would have no use for them soon.
I took the heavy brown piece of luggage by the handle. Then she draped two amulets around my neck and tucked her beloved tarot cards that were wrapped in cloth inside my warmest coat pocket. “These are very important my dear. Listen carefully and write down these words one day for these cards will unlock a door for you and your descendants to come.”
With that, she motioned me toward the wagon’s open door and said, “trade and barter anything you must but never these cards. Your granddaughters will need to follow their star one day.”
I followed Mami’s instructions and, just as she predicted, I befriended a sweet girl named Joan from a small neighboring farm. I offered her a necklace to take me home and like that my fate was changed, for Joan’s family was part of the resistance.
16
B Y the time Saturday rolled around, talk of the historical fantasy inspired feast was all over the resort. The interior of the main dining hall had been converted. Tables and chairs were evenly spaced. The bar was manned by bartenders with bare chests and fur capes. Guests were given green metallic dragon scaled party plates and servers circled with actual thin slabs of wood in place of serving trays, each covered in clear trays of crudités and hors d’oeuvres.
Nana handed Mallory a meatball on a toothpick. “What’s he doing here?” she asked.
“What do you mean? Ned Stark was Lord of Winterfell—his head was placed on a spike. I thought it would be a clever name for the appetizer.”
“I’m not talking about your meatball, you nut job. What? Have I been living under a rock?”
Mallory followed her stare. An older gentleman, dressed nattily in a fitted black shirt and narrow trousers, stood off near the side entrance. It was the man who’d helped them with their translation. He clapped Raymond Weasel on the back and gestured for him to take a seat. Mallory couldn’t hear Weasel’s response, but she saw him stiffen, execute a dismissive bow, and walk away.
“Him, you mean?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. I thought I recognized him but it’s just a guest.”
Mallory licked the last of the barbeque sauce from her fingers as a cloud of darkness passed over Nana’s features. “I better go check on Nataliya and the roasted turkey legs.” She walked away.
Mallory rested against the wall and sipped her drink. It was her job to work the room and approach any and all lonely guests, but everyone seemed to be having a great time and she couldn’t stop thinking about the diary and how that family must have helped her great-grandmother escape Europe. Just what had become of the rest of Simza’s family.
Mallory wove through servers, suddenly wondering if Nana was okay. Mallory’s senses were tingling. Something was bothering her.
Mallory followed her intuition down the hall where she bumped into a man dressed in a warrior costume. He turned around. “Mal,” he said. “You look… wow” He held out his hand and Mallory shook it. His handshake was hot and electric. Mallory tried to pull away, but he held on for too long and then dropped it. Sparks jumped between them and Detective Kaden Bones’ aura skyrocketed with fireworks. He was definitely attracted to her, and she liked his muscled chest which peeked quite nicely out of his warrior’s costume. Only, her feelings confused her, she liked Daemon Wraith so why was she so nervous whenever Kaden came around. She’d been oddly fascinated with the detective from the first time she saw him at the Manor in March. They’d been caught up in a real-life mystery during Danior’s birthday bash.
“Detective,” she said scanning him from top to toes and back again. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“Isn’t that the point of a costume? And please call me Kaden, I’m not here on police business, I’m here to have fun.”
“Really? Well, Kaden, that is a nice surprise. I didn’t think you’d be back after the murder mystery party,” Mallory said.
“What and stay away from you? How could I? Your nana sent me an invitation. I guess she likes me, either that or she had a feeling there was going to be trouble again,” he said.
Mallory’s senses shifted. “Trouble?” The only trouble she liked was Penny Trubble. Nana’s feelings were all too often correct. “Speaking of which, have you seen Nana?”
Kaden shook his head, “but there’s Danior, maybe she knows.”
Mallory nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you back at the party in a minute.”
“Sounds good. Maybe we could have a chat. You still owe me one, you know.” Kaden passed by her, practically brushing up against her on his way back to the dining room. He smelled good. Mallory shook the cobwebs from her brain and hurried over to Danior.
“Do you hear that?” She asked, walking up and placing a hand on Danior’s shoulder.
“Hear what?”
“Someone’s smashing the keys of the piano.” Mallory set down her drink on a console table and surveyed the corridor around her.
“I don’t hear anything.” Danior said.
“It’s coming from the parlor,” Mallory said, walking further down the hall.
The pocket doors that had previously been closed were now partially open. Through them Mallory could see the traditional red wallpaper, and the black seven-foot fireplace carved in a Gothic Italian Renaissance style.
“What’s wrong, Mal?” Danior asked, coming up behind Mallory.
“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling.”
“And it’s coming from in here?”
Mallory closed her eyes and listened. She could feel a darkness pulsing in the room.
“You look pale. Why don’t you lay back on the fainting sofa and I’ll run and get Nana?”
“No, thank you. I think the sound is coming from the vent. Which room is above here—” Mallory began when the secret passage door across from the parlor was suddenly flung open.
“Ms. Vianu!” Nataliya’s voice was hushed but agitated. “You have to come with me. We have a stiff bedframe on the second floor.”
“Stiff bedframe,” Mallory
replied, following the chef inside the passage. “But that’s only supposed to be used when one of our guests has…”
Danior caught up to Nataliya. “What room? Is our stiff bedframe alone right now?”
Nataliya looked dismayed. “Your Nana was in there. I heard her scream, and I came straight here...” The middle-aged woman trailed off. “To be honest,"—she prattled on, clearly flustered—“I don’t know much. Oh, it’s awful.”
“You did the right thing, Nat,” Mallory said soothingly. “We’ll take it from here.”
“Dan, go find Detective Kaden Bones. He was just down the hall. He’s dressed as one of the warriors,” Mallory said. “Which room did you say it was, Nataliya?”
“The Mystery Suite, Madam. It’s that persnickety man who kept complaining.”
Mallory flinched as if she’d been struck. “Our stiff bedframe is Raymond Weasel?”
“Yes, that’s it. Weasel.”
“And Nana was in there?”
Nataliya nodded.
“Okay, it would be best to keep the news between the three of us.”
“Of course,” Nataliya said.
“Why don’t you take a break?” Mallory suggested. “Have a cup of strong tea and something to eat. After you’ve taken a moment to recover, keep an eye out for the ambulance.”
“Has one been called?”
“No, but it will be and I’d like its arrival and the removal of our stiff bedframe to be witnessed by as few guests as possible.”
Nataliya promptly agreed, and Mallory headed up the stairs to find Nana.
Mallory felt a tightening in her throat as she approached room 223. Placing her hand on the knob, she glanced back to make sure she was alone and gathered her nerves.
When Mallory stepped inside the room, she saw the drapes that swept the wide-planked floor had been pulled shut. Nana was kneeling beside the body. She looked distraught. Next to her, curled up on the area rug beside the bed, still dressed in the manor’s costume was Raymond Weasel. Mallory took in his chalk white face and unblinking gaze. She noted that his fingers were curled into rigid claws. Danior may have been right earlier. It looked as though somebody had popped the weasel.
Make-Believes & Lost Memories Page 7
