Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties) (28 page)

HADLEY SPENT HOURS SEARCHING
her father’s house for the key to the family mausoleum. The staff thought her mad. She didn’t give a damn. Father would be back any minute from his checkup at the hospital, and she was prepared to outright tell him what was going on—that she knew everything about her mother and Noel Irving. That she’d been helping Lowe search for the crossbars the entire time.

That he’d betrayed both of them.

And that she’d fallen for someone who’d broken her heart.

It was all bound to come out sooner or later. Levin might’ve already called Father, for all she knew. Regardless, she had to get inside the mausoleum. If she had to bloody her fists to knock the door down with her own hands, she would.

“Miss,” the oldest housekeeper said, blowing a stray hair out of her reddened face. “I really don’t know where else to look. It’s probably in your father’s safe. When he gets home, we’ll ask him for it. But if he comes back and finds you’ve torn through the house, he’ll be very upset. And we’re not to be upsetting him in his condition.”

“If we don’t find that key, his condition will get a hell of a lot worse on its own. And what safe are you talking about? The one in his study?”

The housekeeper’s plump face flushed a deeper shade of red. “I meant the other one.”

“What ‘other’ one?”

“Can’t we just—”

Hadley narrowed her eyes. “Show me the safe, Charlotte.
Now
.”

She followed the woman up the grand staircase to her father’s bedroom. The nightstand next to his bed had a drawer that didn’t open. The housekeeper lifted off the lamp and pulled the piece of furniture away from the wall. The back opened up to expose a black safe, the size of the front drawer.

“I don’t know the combination,” Charlotte insisted.

But Hadley did. Her father used the same predictable numbers he always used: Hadley’s date of birth. And after a few quick turns of the knob, the lock clicked open. She tried not to look too hard at the few things that lay inside: photographs of her mother, some legal documents, a stack of cash. Several keys were stuffed inside a small envelope, but she had no trouble finding the one she needed: one large key and one small, both on a hammered ring.

The mausoleum was built by her mother’s grandfather in 1856, a year after the house was built with the Murray family’s newly acquired gold rush fortune. The story was that Great-Grandfather Murray wanted to build it in Laurel Hill Cemetery—back when it was called Lone Mountain—but got into a fistfight with someone from the records office when he attempted to purchase a plot of land. Angry at the city, he was resolved to build it in his own backyard.

It wasn’t large. The roof of the neoclassical structure was barely two feet above Hadley’s head. And though it was much deeper than tall, half the back end had been swallowed by huckleberry bushes, and the entire building was dwarfed by the cover of her grandmother’s prized Blackwood Acacia tree. One of the two columns sported a large crack—earthquake damage—but both it and the house had been spared during the Great Fire, as they were on the northwestern side of Russian Hill.

With afternoon drizzle misting her hair, Hadley fitted the heavy key into the mausoleum’s ironclad door. The rusty lock gave way, but the door was a little more work, requiring all her weight and strength to budge. Its squeal of protest made Hadley wince as she finally heaved it open.

She switched on a flashlight. Six crypts, three on each side, all covered in a pale sheet of dust. Great-grandmother and -father, grandmother and -father. Hadley looked past those and focused on the top two crypts near the ceiling.

V
ERA
M
URRAY
B
ACALL

W
IFE AND
M
OTHER

B
ORN
1875–D
IED
1906

Her coffin lay on the other side of the carved granite door. No crossbar inside, of course. Her father would’ve found it when he defied the law that forbid burial within the city and sneaked her remains into the mausoleum during the chaotic aftermath of the Great Fire.

But the last crypt, her father’s future resting spot, remained empty. If her mother was going to hide something, that would be the place.

“Here goes nothing,” Hadley murmured to herself, and inserted the smaller key into the iron crypt door.

Dread hit her like a slap against the cheek.

Bad energy she’d recognize anywhere. Adam had been right about iron keeping things contained.

She directed the flashlight’s beam into the dark space. The final canopic jar. The human-headed lid representing Imsety, protector of the liver.

What a fine joke her mother played, hiding the crossbar in a place that no one would have reason to open until after her father’s death. When it was too late for him to use the amulet.

She’d never hated her mother more.

After flicking off the flashlight, Hadley hauled the canopic jar out of the crypt and took one last look at the pictograms before dashing it against the granite floor. A flash of gold danced over the ceramic shards and skipped out of the mausoleum chamber, into the muddy ground outside.

Hadley stepped into the gray light and saw the thing more clearly. It wasn’t a plain crossbar like the others. This one had a loop on top, onto which a long gold chain was attached. The top of the amulet. Once it was attached to the other pieces, it became a necklace.

Hadley stepped over a gnarled root of the Acacia tree and stooped to pick it up. Her fingers met someone else’s. She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Oliver Ginn.

“Hello, Miss Bacall,” he said, snatching the crossbar out of the mud.

She jerked away and stumbled to her feet.

“Doing a little afternoon grave robbing?” He wiped mud from the crossbar with the cuff of his dark coat sleeve as drizzle beaded on the brim of his hat.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” she said, grabbing.

Long fingers closed around the chain as he yanked it out of her reach. “If we’re being accurate, it doesn’t belong to anyone but the ancient priestesses back in the desert. Your father was a fool to track down the pieces. A bigger fool to send children out to reclaim it after your mother spent all that effort to keep it out of his hands.”

“She apparently meant to keep it out of
your
hands as well, Oliver. Or Noel. Whatever the hell you want to call yourself.”

“Ah,” he said, lifting his head to squint at her. The face she’d once thought handsome and young hadn’t changed, but the knowledge that he was unnatural made the hollows of his cheeks seem gaunter; the light behind his eyes, dimmer. “I’ve been Oliver for many years now,” he said softly. “But I won’t lie—I enjoy hearing ‘Noel’ on your lips. Reminds me so much of Vera.”

“Don’t mistake me for my mother.”

“No, you are so much colder than she ever was. But I see now that the aloofness is a defense. You grew up alone, without the warmth that a mother provides.”

“Indeed, I did. Because even when she was alive, she was no mother. She handed me over to the staff and went about her merry way. She was too busy cuckolding my father to bother raising a child.”

“She loved you. You and your father, unfortunately. Archie certainly didn’t deserve the emotion she wasted on him. He was more concerned about advancing his career than giving her what she needed.”

“Yes, he certainly didn’t give her what you did—namely, an arcane magical spell that took her life.”

Oliver’s brows snapped together. “It
saved
her life. And yours, as well.”

“It also cursed me!”

“Cursed? How? You didn’t die after eight years like your mother. You’re standing here now, aren’t you?” he said, his gaze sliding over her in a way that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. “You know, when I heard the amulet base had been found, I expected to see your father scrambling to get his hands on it. I did not expect to find you—looking more like your mother than I could have ever dreamed.”

“Why? Did you expect the Mori specters to have taken my soul eight years after my mother died and passed along her curse to me?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “I had no idea that would happen. Or that it had. Not until the night of the museum party. When I saw the reapers climbing the walls, I thought they were finally coming for me. Then I thought they were coming for you, that it was happening all over again. I’d just found you, and they were taking you away from me again—”

Hadley opened her mouth to protest, but he was in another world, eyes glazed over and haunted. After a moment, he floated back down to terra firma. “But when I realized the reapers were responding to your command, it was the most extraordinary revelation. Hadley, don’t you understand? You wield the power of a goddess. The hounds of Set respond to your command. You took down my griffin—”

“You sent those magical creatures to kill us.”

“I sent them to fetch these,” he said, holding up the chain. The crossbar swung in the air, dangling in the mist. “Neither would have harmed you.”

“Your fire-breathing golem burned Lowe.”

His eyes darkened. “I said they wouldn’t harm
you
, not that Nordic cretin. And you should be blaming him for putting you in harm’s way, right from the beginning. Both him and your greedy father—you can’t imagine how furious I was to discover that he’d sent you to meet Magnusson at the train station in Salt Lake City.”

Hadley recoiled. “You sent those two goons after Lowe?”

“I paid them to retrieve the amulet base using whatever means necessary. Magnusson should’ve been dead in Chicago, and if it weren’t for their incompetence he would have been. I only learned after the fact that the woman with whom he escaped on the train was you. And when your loudmouthed lover, George Houston—”

“George?” Dear God! His name alone was enough to flip her panic into a true anger that stirred up the Mori. She felt them sniffing from the hedgerow, beyond the great Acacia tree.

“Oh, yes. A lout who can be bought with a single drink is no one you should be sharing a bed with,” he scolded in a manner that exposed the old man hiding behind his youthful facade. “Houston told me he’d overheard your father instructing you to meet up with Magnusson at the Flood Mansion party. I couldn’t believe he’d use his own daughter to do his dirty work.”

He was mistaken about that, but she didn’t say this. Her gaze shot beyond Noel’s shoulder to see her father in his wheelchair, blindly cutting two muddy ruts through the dead grass.

“Hello, Archie.”

“Hello, Noel, you filthy piece of shit.”

Noel barked a cruel laugh. And in that moment, Hadley lunged and snatched the crossbar dangling from his fist. The chain snapped—one of the links broke open. But she got it!

“Now, now, my dear.” Noel glanced at her father, but his focus was fixed on her. “That wasn’t nice. Is your allegiance really so firmly entwined with your father? I challenge you to remember that the man betrayed you in front of his peers, selling away your career to the first clod treasure hunter who happened to stumble upon the amulet base.”

“For the love of God, I didn’t do it to
spite
her.” Her father came to a stop a few yards away. “It was merely a carrot to lure Magnusson. And I’d do it again a million times over if it meant I’d get even half a chance to put your rotten corpse in the ground. Hadley,” he called out. “Stay away from that man. He’s dangerous.”

“I know who he is,” she said. “I know everything. I know about the Deathless magic and his affair with Mother and that she passed on the specters to me when she died.”

“Hadley,” her father said in a broken voice.

Tears stung her eyes as the Mori crept closer. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had a right to know. I’m not a child.”

“I just wanted to keep you safe. And I didn’t want you to think badly of your mother.”

“Why should she?” Noel said. “Vera was brilliant and filled with endless potential. Her mistake was trusting you’d recognize that.”

“Of course I did—she was
my wife
!”

Anger tightened Noel’s face. “She may have been your wife on paper but she died in
my
arms,” he said, thumping his chest.

“A sight I’ll never forget,” her father snapped. “The entire city was in chaos, and I raced home to find you in my bed. My bed. My house. My wife.” His arms began shaking. “And you killed her. You infected her with that disease in Egypt. You made her sick while she was pregnant with my child. And you’re the one who insisted I call that unholy witch—Hadley’s curse is your fault!”

“My God, Archie,” Noel shouted. “It’s not a curse. She commands those reapers—that’s a gift from the gods. Then again, I suppose this is not something you’d appreciate if you’ve misled her all these years.”

“That spell has rotted your brain.”

Noel shook his head and turned to Hadley, speaking in a softer voice. “Come with me. I can take you to Cairo and show you incredible things. Things your mother loved.”

Smoky shadows circled the base of the Acacia tree and climbed the wet bark as Noel’s voice grew more persuasive. “Think about it, Hadley. I understand if you have doubts about us. I even accept that you’ve taken this Magnusson fellow as a lover. But you can’t deny that there’s something bigger drawing us together. It’s fate, Hadley. We’re two halves that can make a whole—you with the power to wield death, and me, the man death cannot touch.”