by Sonia Parin
She came to a stop in front of a portrait of a man dressed in the Elizabethan style; puffy breeches, high collar, ornately decorated coat…
She could have sworn it was Henry St James looking down his patrician nose at her.
“Lexie.”
She swung around. “Mirabelle?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to get through to you. Where have you been?”
“I’m getting fed up with hearing your voice but not seeing you.”
“Never mind all that. Have you had a look around the house?”
“I was sort of doing that now.”
“I need you to go into the library. There is a book you need to find. It has gold binding with lapis lazuli colored scrollwork around the edges.”
Lexie laughed. “There are hundreds of books in there. What’s special about this one?”
“It’s the St James family book and contains the names of all the successors. Each time someone takes over, they write their name in the book and underneath that, they must write the words which keep the seal in place. The tradition has been in place since the house was built.”
“The seal that prevents all three Mackenzies from entering?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute, are you telling me Henry lied to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he might not be Henry after all.”
“What do you mean?”
Silence.
“Mirabelle?”
Chapter Six
Lexie pressed her hand against her chest and closed her eyes. A part of her wanted to retreat to her room and lay down on her sumptuous bed until lunch was announced. She could doze off or she could think about what she’d wear for lunch.
That sounded like a wonderful idea.
She could also call someone about having a manicure.
“Lexie,” she snapped and forced herself to take a step and another and another until she broke into a run along the long hallway.
Reaching the end, she leaned against a window, her breath coming hard and fast. She looked down the hallway, her gaze jumping from one picture to the other. Up and down. Up and down, she fought the urge to give in, bend over and crawl into her room, all the while thinking Henry, not Henry.
If she focused on reciting the words, she might be able to pull herself away from whatever kept dragging her down.
Oh, but it felt so good to go with the flow and just be happy and not worry about…
Well, she didn’t know, because she had nothing to worry about. Everything was so nice here at House St James.
Her back teeth gritted. She pushed off the windowsill and stumbled toward a door. Nudging it open, she peered inside.
A stairwell… leading up.
Grabbing hold of the banister, she pulled herself up, all her inner strength focused on fighting the urge to head the other way toward her room. It took all her effort to reach the top of the staircase. Gasping for breath, she entered what looked like a tower room with panoramic views of the surrounding countryside.
Dredging up the last of her willpower, she pushed one of the windows open, slumped over the windowsill and sucked in a long breath.
“Oh, that feels good.”
“Lexie?”
“Yeah. Me.” She tried to straighten but she swooned on the spot. “Oh, I’ve been suffocating.” She looked down at herself and groaned. “I’m wearing the most ridiculous tennis outfit. My socks have frilly ruffles. Why did you let this happen to me? Where have you been?”
“Where are you?” Mirabelle asked. “You’re finally coming through loud and clear.”
“I’m in a tower room, my head hanging out the window. Breathing feels so good.”
“Catherine told me you might have been beguiled. You say you feel yourself again and you’re in the tower room?”
“Yeah, I’ve been starved of oxygen.”
“Have you been outside? You probably need to recharge.”
“No, I haven’t set foot outside. Every time I think about it, someone comes along and drags me away. Oh—” she bit off an expletive. “Someone said I’d be a nice addition. I remember smiling and thinking how nice it was to feel at home, as if I belonged.”
Mirabelle hummed. “I remember hearing a few stories about our kind being collected.”
“What? Like a curiosity.”
“Yes. We’re going to have to work fast. Otherwise…”
“What?”
“We risk losing you.”
“But you could come to my rescue.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve never had any trouble getting inside House St James, now it’s as if they’ve raised barriers. You must find the book.”
“And?”
“Find the book, you’ll find the words to break the seal.”
“Is that uncertainty I heard in your voice?”
“We’re sure… almost sure the words for the seal are in the book. You must hurry. Go down and find the book.”
“But…” She looked around her. “Once I go downstairs again, I’m going to be at their mercy.”
“It’s a risk you’ll have to take. We should never have sent you off without a protection spell. It just didn’t occur to me. After all, Henry asked for our help.”
“And you didn’t think whatever is invading the household would come after me?”
“Well… I can’t think of everything.”
“Oh,” Lexie exclaimed.
“What was that sound?”
“The lunch gong. Must dash.”
“There she is.” Reginald approached Lexie and drew out a chair for her.
“Thank you.” She sucked in a small breath. At this rate, she’d end up fainting from lack of oxygen, but she was afraid to breath in whatever they were feeding her. The house had to be saturated with it.
Straight after lunch, she’d head back up to the tower and spend a few moments cleansing herself. Earlier, it had cleared her head enough to orientate her and work out a plan of action. But by the time she’d returned to her bedroom, she’d already been thinking about what to wear so Lexie had rushed to the window and stuck her head out. Again, it had worked.
She looked down the length of the dining room table. Everybody was chatting amiably about the lovely weather they were enjoying and how lucky they were. It was enough to make Lexie cringe. As the first course was served, her attention fell on the beautiful centerpiece display of flowers and her mind began to wander, her thoughts mellowing into a trancelike state.
Her body stiffened.
Get a hold of yourself.
Henry sat at the head of the table, his attention on Reginald who’d taken his place next to him. She tried to listen in on the conversation but Eloise claimed her attention with talk about that year’s Milan fashion shows.
With nothing to contribute, Lexie could only nod and smile.
Right in the middle of being force fed a detailed description of the latest Prada styles, the air thickened around them. Henry leaned forward and sprung back against his high chair nearly toppling it over, his hands clutching his throat.
Everyone sat back and stared without saying anything.
Lexie half rose out of her chair but something pulled her back down.
She watched in horror as Henry St James appeared to struggle to draw breath.
A stifling sense of helplessness overpowered her. The moment called for action and all she could think about was getting out of the house. She couldn’t even draw a deep calming breath because that would make this feeling of complacency even worse.
Lexie closed her eyes and withdrew inside herself searching for something to grab hold of.
Too many years had lapsed since she’d used her inner powers and she’d given them up before she’d had a chance to perfect them.
Go general, she told herself, and stick to basics.
Henry St James continued to gasp for breath.
Emptying her mind of all thoughts, she reached fo
r the feeling of well being resounding inside her and focused on it, urging it to bloom and expand beyond her.
Compelling it to spill out of her would take everything she had and she was already fighting against whatever had been trying to control her.
Her fingertips tingled.
A good sign, a baby step, she thought stomping on the fear she could feel crawling around her. She couldn’t afford to think about this not working. Nature worked with her, she worked with nature. Think harmony, Lexie. Give and take.
Fill all who breathe with ease and calm.
What else, what else.
Think. Think.
Hey, guys. A little help here, please.
The tinkling of piano keys wafted from the music room beyond the foyer.
The tune picked up momentum. Light spilled into the dining room. Dust motes danced around. Her mood instantly lifted, making her feel lighter.
Music, the great uplifter, Lexie thought…
Henry’s breathing eased. His hands fell away from his throat.
Disaster averted. But for how long?
To her surprise, the conversation around the table resumed as if nothing had happened.
Lexie could barely hold herself upright. Her energy had been thoroughly depleted. Excusing herself, she withdrew to her room and collapsed onto the bed where she fell fast asleep.
“If you push, I’ll pull. On the count of three. One. Two…”
A mighty crash wrenched Lexie from her deep slumber. She sprung upright and whipped around. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Cat. I heard a crash.”
“Oh, that. Well… We’ve been trying to open the window for you. I mentally pulled from the inside, and Mirabelle worked from the outside. It took some doing but we eventually managed to get it opened. It was the only way we could think of circumventing the presence of three rule. How are you feeling? We were worried about you. You’ve been out for hours. Hang on, I sense Mirabelle wants to say something. Over and out.”
“Huh?” Lexie rubbed her eyes. Rolling off the bed, she strode over to the open window. The cool night air seeped into her and she felt instantly better.
“Good, you’re up. We were so worried about you. What happened?”
She gave Mirabelle a brief rundown of everything that had happened at lunch. “It put me out of action for the rest of the day. Now I only have one day to sort this out.”
“Head straight over to the library. It’s the dead of night. You should have the place to yourself.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you.” Mirabelle hummed. “Are you wearing a designer dress?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m… I’m trying to blend in. Play the role to the hilt… Hey, I thought you only saw me in my official Mackenzie Coven getup.”
“Oh, I can pick and choose what I want to see.”
“Do I get a say?”
“No.”
“FYI. I am picturing you in tweeds and granny lace up shoes.”
“I’d hate to pull rank on you—”
“You can try it, but I’m still going to picture you in frumpy clothes.”
She changed out of her dress and into her jeans and t-shirt. “I don’t know if I should tiptoe my way down or not. I’m supposed to be looking for a solution to this malevolent presence, so I don’t see why I should move around by stealth. Can you think of any reasons?”
“Maybe you should walk quietly just to be on the safe side. We wouldn’t want to attract the ‘dark’ presence.”
“That’s actually a good point. I’ve only seen it attack Henry. But who knows, it might decide to target me.” Regardless of the leeway she’d been given in the house, Lexie checked the hallway before making her way down to the library as quiet as a mouse. “I hope you’re watching my back.”
“I’m sticking to you like glue.”
“You’ll have to tell me how you do this. Clearly you can see what I’m up to, but I can’t see you.”
“Regretting your lost years, are you?”
“Not in the slightest. I’m putting it all down to experience. My mother always tells me never to regret my choices, but rather to accept the consequences and move on. I’m moving on now.” Although, she wasn’t sure in which direction. She’d lived for ten years without the benefit of special gifts, now that she’d taken possession of them, or rather, now that she’d had them thrust upon her again, she’d have to learn the meaning of it all.
“You look worried,” Mirabelle said.
“I think I’m experiencing an existential crisis and questioning my raison d’être.”
“Now?”
“Have you never wondered why you do what you do?” Lexie asked.
“No. I’ve never had reason to question my birthright.”
“Are you suggesting I’m unhappy?”
“Perhaps you’re not sure about what you want.”
“Maybe.”
“Or perhaps you focus too much on how green the grass is on the other side of the fence.”
“All right. You’ve given me enough food for thought.”
“You might even be doubting your skills,” Mirabelle added.
“Thank you. That’s enough for now.”
“You are lagging behind. There’s no way you’ll ever be able to catch up and match our skill set.”
“Mirabelle. My confidence is dwindling.”
“You seem to have trouble with your willpower. Nothing… no one should be able to take such a strong hold of you.”
“So send me to remedial school.”
“That’s not such a bad idea.”
Lexie felt a tug.
“Wait up. This is interesting.”
“What?”
“This statue. I don’t remember seeing it here the last time I visited.”
“It’s a Donatello,” Lexie said.
“How do you know?”
“I studied art. Of course, it could be a copy or a work done by one of his apprentices. Back in the day, it was enough for an artist to put his thumb print on something for it to be considered a work by him.”
“You could come in handy, after all.”
“I think I deserve more credit than that. Remember, I’m wearing designer clothes for the cause.”
“Not at this moment you aren’t. The sight of you in jeans and a t-shirt must have given Taffy a severe bout of apoplexy.”
“Okay. Here we are.” Lexie eased the door to the library open and slipped inside. “Any idea where I should start looking?” She cast her gaze over the endless rows of books.
“No further than the desk. Look.”
Lexie turned and saw Henry St James’s body slumped over his desk, a glass sitting by his outstretched hand.
“Umm. Cue scream?”
An ear-splitting scream nearly ruptured her eardrums. Lexie swung around. A woman stood by the open door. Lexie narrowed her gaze and tried to identify her. Unlike the St James women who were all blonde, this woman had rich mahogany locks cascading around her shoulders.
“Who are you?”
Chapter Seven
Another scream had Lexie stumbling back.
“Any suggestions?” she asked Mirabelle.
“Check for a pulse. Although I don’t feel his life force.”
“While I do that, can you do something about the screaming woman,” Lexie shouted. As she rounded the desk, she heard pounding footsteps hurrying toward the library. “Yep. He’s a goner.”
Taffy came to a stop by the doorway. Several other servants piled up behind him.
“Any idea what we should do now?” Lexie asked.
You might have to call the police.
Lexie looked up and met Taffy’s gaze. Had Mirabelle withdrawn because of him?
“I shall alert the others,” he said. “Please do not disturb anything.”
Lexie put her hands up and stepped back from the desk. “Umm, Taffy…”
; “Yes?”
“Could you maybe do something about the screaming woman?”
In an instant, the screaming stopped and the woman collapsed into a heap on the floor.
Taffy gathered her in his arms and set her down on a sofa by the fireplace.
“Thank you,” Lexie said, not for the first time noticing there was more to Taffy than met the eye.
Withdrawing, he closed the doors behind him.
“Hurry,” Mirabelle urged, “Look for the book.”
“Oh, you’re back.” Lexie shivered. “Hearing you and not seeing you is starting to freak me out a bit…” Silence. Had Mirabelle tuned out again? “Are you there, Mirabelle?”
“Yes. I’m just thinking. There’s something about Taffy that wasn’t there the last time I was at House St James.”
“Do you think he might have been possessed?” Lexie asked.
“It’s strange. He still feels the same. He certainly acts the same. He’s not doing anything he wouldn’t otherwise do.”
Lexie skimmed the bookshelves. “Where would I put a valuable book that is possibly only required only every few dozen years or so? Bottom shelf? Top shelf? Secret shelf?”
“I actually expected it to be on display in a prominent position but maybe it’s been moved somewhere safer.”
“Are you suggesting I now have to look for a hidey-hole?”
“Try this. Extend your hands out and feel your way along the shelves.”
Lexie smiled. “Do my fingers have magical powers?”
“They could do. If you want them to…”
“It’s been so long, I’m not sure what’s what.”
“I bet you’re regretting not having had a formal education.”
“I can’t do that,” Lexie said, “Because then I’d have to blame my mother and… there’s nothing to be gained by doing that.” Morgana Primrose Mackenzie had been everyone’s favorite mom. Her friends had always loved coming to her place to hang out because they’d been assured of a good time if her mom was around. She’d been the cool mom, playing loud music and telling the best ghost stories ever…
