Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties) (29 page)

Her father made a choking noise. “Are you mad? First my wife and now my daughter? Death isn’t good enough for you! I should’ve dug a hole and cemented you inside.”

“And I should’ve done the same to you, but I made a promise to Vera that I wouldn’t kill you.”

“You’re killing me with this goddamn aging spell.”

“I’m just giving you a shove in the right direction. But if you want an even bigger push, I’m happy to oblige.”

The Mori were making Hadley dizzy. So many of them. Some were pulling on her anger and panic; others were focused on something else. And when she realized what that thing was, she pulled herself together long enough to retrieve the amulet base from her coat pocket.

“Hadley,” Noel warned when he saw the gold gleam.

“Father may have made a lot of mistakes, but my mother obviously cared enough to stay with him. And I guess there are some similarities between my mother and me after all, because I stand by him, too.”

“Hadley,” her father called out in warning.

“Don’t worry, Father,” she said, backing away from Noel into the mausoleum doorway. “I’ve got all the pieces now. You should’ve asked me to find them in the first place.”

“Hadley—”

Bracing for the unknown, she slipped the last crossbar into the top of the amulet. It greedily attached itself, as if it were magnetized. As if it were alive. With shaking, rain-slick fingers, she twisted it together, and the metal snicked into place.

THE AMULET WAS WHOLE,
all the pieces assembled. Hadley expected something big and dramatic and frightening to happen. But . . .

Nothing.

No door to the underworld. No flash of light. No swirl of magical smoke. She wiggled it while glancing around, looking for something that wasn’t there. She shook it, grunting. Still nothing.

Noel’s slow chuckle grew into a laugh. “Oh, Archie. If you could only see the look on her face. Your precious Backbone of Osiris doesn’t seem to work. I’m afraid someone’s been deceived because I don’t see any sort of magical doorway to a dark netherworld.”

Dear God. Had Adam given her the wrong one? Had she just attached the last crossbar to a forgery? She cried out in frustration. Her Mori wailed along with her, teeth gnashing. Wanting to be loosed. A rumbling noise gathering somewhere in the distance grew closer and closer.

“Hadley!” her father bellowed. “Put it around his neck. It must be around his neck!”

She stared at the broken chain. Glanced up at Noel. His slow grin sent a shiver of fear across her skin. Stupid, arrogant bastard. She might not kill him, but she could damn sure hurt him enough to make him wish he were dead.

That distant rumble grew louder, until her bones shook with it. And with a furious wail, she unleashed the Mori and willed them upon Noel with all her might.

Shadows coalesced above the mausoleum as her specters swirled around a tree limb that was fatter than a man’s chest and easily twenty feet long. The grand old Blackwood Acacia shook. Wood groaned. Bark splintered. And with a terrible
crack!
the hulking limb came crashing down through the misting rain.

Noel lunged to the side as the limb exploded near Hadley’s feet, hitting the ground with such force, it made her teeth clack together. Hadley’s gaze met his over the fallen branches. His mouth screwed into a snarl. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily. “Forgive me, Vera,” he mumbled before whipping around to face her father. A string of familiar words floated from his lips. What was that? Egyptian Arabic?

Wind rustled through her hair as Noel shouted something at the sky.

Her father screamed. His legs twisted around each other. Bone cracked.

“Father!” Hadley stumbled over the mausoleum steps and slipped in the mud as the Acacia tree shook again. She saw her specters rocking another bough a moment before a streak of red flew across the grass.

The rumble wasn’t coming from the Mori.

It was
Lulu.

A dark figure leapt from the bike—one she barely recognized as Lowe. His soaked clothes clung to lean muscles. A wild crown of burnished gold curls dripped over narrowed eyes as his long legs carried him across the lawn with dangerous grace. He looked as if he were the devil himself, risen from hell, bent on ripping someone’s heart from their chest.

That someone turned out to be Noel.

As Hadley pushed herself out of the mud, she spied Lowe reaching under the flap of his suit jacket. Silver winked in the mist as he fisted his curved dagger.

“Lowe!” she shouted.

His eyes briefly flicked to hers, but they barely registered recognition. He looked possessed. How in the world had he known to come here? Had Adam told him? She couldn’t remember what she’d muttered to the watchmaker when she left his shop.

“The amulet!” her father bit out between pained breaths. “Get it . . . around his n-neck.”

Lowe charged at Noel and tackled him. Knocked the man clear off his feet like he was nothing more than a leather-bound punching bag, sending his hat flying off. And Hadley nearly slipped again as their combined weight hit the felled tree limb and pushed it backward several inches toward her.

Growling, Lowe grabbed the man’s hair with his disfigured hand and slammed the back of his head against the branches—once, twice. Noel flailed. Struggled. Then regained some strength and struck Lowe across the face so violently that Hadley cried out.

But Lowe just shook it off and changed tactics, spitting out Swedish curses. His bad hand came down on Noel’s wrist. The dagger rose up in the rain as Lowe lifted his arm, grunted savagely, and swung down with brutal force. The blade sliced through the middle of Noel’s palm and jammed into the tree limb.

Noel screamed. He tried to lift his arm and failed as blood pooled in his palm.

Lowe had pinned the man’s hand to the wood.

And the wound was already mending itself, trying to close up around the blade.

“Hadley!” Lowe shouted. “Give it to me, now.”

She hesitated, gripping the muddy amulet in her fist. The chain was broken. She needed to tell him that. And so much more. She wanted all of this madness to disappear, for the landscape to be wiped clean. For one minute alone with him, so they could assess the situation together and find a solution, like they had done so many times before everything went so terribly wrong.

Before he smashed her heart into a thousand pieces.

God, how she wanted him to be the man she’d trusted.

More than anything.

Some part of her must have had faith, because her arm jerked forward on its own accord, offering up the amulet to Lowe.

In a flash, he seized it from her hand. Wild eyes met hers. Just for a moment. But when she failed to get a single word out of her mouth, he dropped his furious gaze onto Noel and wrapped the loose ends of the chain around the man’s neck like he was trying to choke him with the amulet.

The Mori let out a collective wail. A warning. Something was happening.

The ground shook. The bough cracked. And the amulet’s nasty energy suddenly intensified as a dark void opened up beneath Noel’s back.

It was working!

The void spread like a black halo over Noel’s shoulders, down his legs. The Mori flew down from the tree and circled the men like dark angels.

Noel screamed in horror. But he wasn’t the only one. Lowe struggled to push himself off of Noel. They were sinking together into the void, as if the darkness was made of quicksand—a hungry, pitch-black mouth eager to swallow them alive.

Hadley rushed forward, and with both hands, grabbed Lowe’s arm and pulled.

“Hang on,” she shouted, digging one heel into the muddy ground and pushing one against the fallen tree limb for leverage. It was impossible. She could feel the dark suctioning energy of the void sapping at her strength. And Lowe was too big. Too heavy. His wet clothes slipped under her hands and she nearly lost him.

Nearly.

Heart galloping, she quickly adjusted her grip, gritted her teeth, and tugged harder.

Noel screamed again. Near her foot, his flesh tore away from the dagger. His body sank into the void all at once and . . . disappeared.

And as if she were on the winning side of a tug-of-war game, Lowe’s torso suddenly gave way and flew over the tree limb. They both toppled into the mud, a tangle of arms. She gasped for breath as he flipped around and drew his legs over the bough. Then they both scrambled to their knees.

One by one, the Mori dove into the shrinking void like a flock of black birds arrowing into a pool of water. What was seconds ago big enough to swallow Noel’s body was now the size of a dinner plate as the last specter flew in.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hadley saw gold glint. The amulet. It lay strewn across the tree limb, one side of its broken chain caught on the dagger jutting out of the wood.

Lowe saw it, too. His hand shot out. He snatched the amulet off the chain and tossed it into the closing void. As if it finally had everything it wanted, the black mouth snapped shut and disappeared completely.

A weary grunt pulled her attention across the lawn.

She raced around the branches and stopped short in front of her father’s wheelchair, where he was prying his twisted legs apart. He was still in pain, his eyes still pale. But he was alive. “Father,” she said, unable to hold back the tears that streaked down her cheeks.

Her father’s staff came running from the back porch, terror and fear in their eyes. “Call an ambulance,” she shouted out to them.

“It worked,” her father said between labored breaths. “I can feel the magic leaving.”

But it wasn’t the only thing.

Lulu’s rumbling engine sputtered to life again. Hadley tried to call for Lowe, but whether he heard her or not, she didn’t know. He just leaned forward into the motorcycle’s handlebars and sped away without a single look behind.

And he was gone.

O
NE MONTH LATER . . .

HADLEY SET A FULL
glass of champagne down on the edge of the desk as distant laughter from the office party floated through the doorway. She’d never shaken so many hands in all her life. All that bare skin was hard to get used to, and now that it was over, she had to fight the urge to wash her hands, exchanging one phobia for another. But she did fight it—a small victory.

She just needed to take a breather. If she stuck around any longer, Miss Tilly might’ve damn well tried to hug her. She gritted her teeth and shuddered at the thought.

Small steps.

“That’s the last one,” her father said as he hobbled into the room on crutches. He nodded to a box of odds and ends that sat at her feet.

“You sure you want to give up this desk?” She leaned back against the edge of it. “Last chance to withdraw your retirement. The staff’s already half-cut. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to toast to you changing your mind.”

A smile lifted his lips. “Can you imagine the paperwork? Besides, they’ve already printed your business cards. How does it feel to be department head?”

Strangely, not as satisfying as she once imagined, but she merely said, “Daunting.”

“Pish. You’ll be fine. Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, I had Miss Tilly place notices in the trade publications that we’re seeking a replacement for George’s position. And if you need help interviewing—”

“I think I can manage.”

He blinked at her, studying her face while motes of dust fluttered within a slice of afternoon sun spilling from the nearby window. Though his sight had returned days after the final confrontation with his old partner, he still spent a lot of time looking at her more closely than he ever had before the blindness. “Don’t be too proud to ask for help.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, as her father’s assistant, Stan, walked into the room.

Stan picked up the box of her father’s things. “We should get going, sir. Driver is waiting outside.”

“Take that out to the trunk,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute or two.”

“When’s your appointment with the doctor?” she asked her father as Stan left the office.

“Half an hour, but he can wait. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Father, I appreciate all your concern, but I really can handle things here.”

He leaned on one crutch and shook his head. “It’s not that. I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Magnusson.”

Just the sound of his name sent a pang through her chest. Had it been a month since she’d last seen him, riding away out of her father’s backyard? Because it felt like an entire year’s worth of sleepless nights.

“What about him?” she said, trying to make her voice sound normal.

“Are you in love with him?”

She balked at the accusation, crossing her arms below her breasts. Yes, her father had seen her fall apart a few times in the first days after Lowe had disappeared out of her life, when she was intermittently racked with anger and hurt. But she’d pulled herself together. Mostly. “I don’t know why you’re asking about this. Nothing’s changed. He’s made no attempt to contact me.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“What you asked doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t be surprised to never see the man again.” Admittedly, she’d once or twice taken a taxi past the Magnusson house to see if she could spy his red motorcycle in the driveway. She never did, and subsequently gave up trying. “For all I know, he’s run off to Egypt again. And considering the way we parted, I feel quite sure he won’t be trying to sell the museum anything else he finds in the desert.”

Her father squinted. “He’s not in Egypt. In fact, he stopped by the house this morning before I came over here.”

Her stomach pitched and a tingling sensation raced through her limbs. A dozen questions popped into her head at once, but the only one she could get out was: “Why?”

“He was showing me a few things he found in Philae.”

Oh. Not to ask about her, then. Just business. And the thought of her father doing business with him made her chest spark with quick anger. “You’ve got to be joking. Are you mad? You met with him, knowing that he hawks forgeries?”

“These were authentic. Mostly ceramics, a few tools.”

“Father.”

“Don’t look at me like I’m an imbecile,” he said grumpily. “I can see just fine now, you know. And I asked him to bring them to me—not the other way around.”

Impossible. How in the world . . . ? Her pulse spiked. “Are you saying you’ve had contact with him before this?”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You’re doing a fine job of it now.”

“Now, now. Calm down and send those things away.”

She glanced in the direction he was looking. A couple of Mori were crawling out from the shadowed space behind a row of books.

Noel’s descent into the underworld might’ve removed the aging magic that the man had embedded inside her father, but it hadn’t severed her connection to the Mori. When she’d first realized this, she’d nearly destroyed her father’s kitchen in a tear-filled rage. But she’d come to terms with it and was now resigned to the fact that they were there to stay. Curse or blessing, it was hers to keep.

And her responsibility to control. Shutting her eyes, she quickly willed them away and took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Go on.”

“The last time I saw him, Magnusson mentioned he was thinking of donating some of his finds to Berkeley, and I asked if I could see the ceramics.”

“How many times have you seen him?”

“We had unfinished business. Naturally I asked him to call on me.”

“What sort of unfinished business?”

“Payment, of course. Think of it this way—your mother got us into this mess when she took up with Noel. Therefore, using her family’s fortune to get us out of it was the least she could do for us.” Hadley was taken aback by her father’s frankness. He never spoke of her mother this way. Perhaps he was moving on, in his own crotchety way. “And a deal is a deal,” he finished. “The sum we originally agreed on wasn’t really for the amulet itself.”

“You paid Lowe?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“He was planning to cheat you.”

“Regardless, the amulet was found—”

“Mostly by me!”

“—and Noel is gone. Magnusson fulfilled his part of the bargain, so I fulfilled mine. I would’ve felt guilty not doing so. And the fact that he didn’t demand it made me feel better about him.” He nodded his chin toward her and spoke in a softer voice. “If I can look beyond his mistakes, perhaps you might consider doing the same. He’s gone to great lengths to ensure Levin didn’t taint your professional career with gossip.”

How, she didn’t know, but she’d be damned before she begged her father to tell her. “He has shown no interest in contacting me, so I don’t see what difference any of this makes.”

“Perhaps you should give him the benefit of the doubt,” he said, tucking his crutches beneath his arms. “And that’s all I’ll say on the matter. Your life is your own. But do keep in mind that no matter what fulfillment you’ll find inside these walls, it’s a poor excuse for failing to search for other fulfillments outside them. Don’t let your drive for success be your only happiness.”

Funny words coming from a man who’d done exactly that, but she watched him leave the office without comment—mostly because she was too upset to speak. All the hurt and grief she’d so carefully managed to keep locked up inside her head came rushing to the surface.

“Miss Bacall?”

She shook away her chaotic feelings and glanced up at the doorway to see the accounting secretary who was watching the front desk while Miss Tilly drank herself silly at the office party. The woman held out a bright orange tiger lily in her hand. “This came for you.”

Hadley silently cursed Miss Tilly for not informing the woman. “That goes in the trash.”

“The trash? But why?”

Because no matter how many times she told the delivery boy to stop bringing them, he insisted that he’d get in trouble at work, and didn’t she know who the Magnussons were? As if the family would come after him with machine guns if he failed to deliver a stupid flower. Ridiculous. Hadley sometimes wondered if Miss Tilly told the delivery boy to keep coming because she was sweet on him.

“Never mind,” she told the secretary, suddenly feeling more defeated than angry. Her father’s speech had confused her. Fifteen minutes ago, she’d been perfectly fine. Well, that was a lie. Not fine, but coping. Enduring. And yes, maybe occasionally grieving what she’d lost with Lowe, especially after she stopped hoping he might show up and at least try to explain why he’d lied to her.

But he didn’t.

Truth be told, she was probably more upset with him for giving up on her and what they’d had together than she was about the lying. After all, her father had lied to her, too, and they’d made amends. Did Lowe not think she was worth the effort?

A heavy sigh inflated her chest. She just didn’t think she could survive grieving for him all over again.

“What was the name of the florist?” she asked the secretary.

“Lunde Flowers.”

Maybe it was time to admit that it was truly over between them. And time to cut the last tie to him, once and for all.

She called a taxi and left the office early, giving the driver the florist’s name. The cab carried her south of the park, into the Fillmore District. Not more than a block or so from Adam’s shop. She should’ve known.

After asking the taxi driver to wait, she strode into the florist’s, a calm resignation propelling her steps, and rang a bell at the front counter.

A blond middle-aged woman with pink cheeks appeared from a door. “Good afternoon,” she said with a heavy Scandinavian accent. “How may I be helping you?”

“A couple of months ago, someone ordered flowers to be delivered to me at my office. A daily delivery of lilies—”

“Oh! Mr. Magnusson,
ja.
” She smiled. “You are at the museum.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

The woman’s brow creased. “You have been getting your deliveries?”

“Yes, no problem there. I came because I want them stopped.”

“Why? Is the quality not good?”

“The quality is fine.” Hadley inhaled a calming breath. “Mr. Magnusson and I are not seeing each other anymore, and I suppose he forgot to come in here and halt the deliveries himself.”

“Oh, that is terrible. Poor man.”

For the love of God, not her, too. Was everyone cheering for Lowe today?

“He has lost so much,” the florist said solemnly. “First Mr. Goldberg, and now his sweetheart.”

Hadley tilted her head. “Did you say Mr. Goldberg? The watchmaker?”

“
Ja.
What a terrible tragedy. We are so sad for his passing.”

She stilled. Surely the woman’s message was lost in translation. “You do not mean he’s died, do you?”

The florist nodded. “He was killed in his shop. The police still do not find killer. You did not hear? It was in the newspaper.”

Hadley stood stiffly for several moments, desperately trying to steady her nerves and think rationally. “When did this happen?”

“A month ago.”

A month. That was . . . when she last saw Lowe. When he’d torn into her father’s backyard in a rage, and attacked Noel and—
Oh, God!
“What about the little girl? Did she? That is, I mean, was she killed?”

“No.” The florist intently shook her head, frowning at Hadley like she was a horrible person for even thinking such a thing.

Hadley blinked rapidly and backed away from the counter. “I have to go. Thank you.”

“Wait! What about the deliveries?”

“Never mind,” she mumbled, racing out of the shop.

Between labored breaths, she gave the taxi driver an address and clutched her handbag in her lap the entire way, her mind empty and bright with shock. When the cab rolled up in front of the Magnussons’ Queen Anne on Broadway, she nearly leapt out before he came to a full stop.

As she was racing to the front door, a familiar blond head peered from the driveway.

“Miss Bacall?”

“Astrid!” She changed directions and strode to the big gate at the side of the home. “Is Lowe home?”

Lowe’s sister scratched her ear and twisted her mouth. “Uh, well, not exactly . . .”

Winter’s assistant, Bo, walked up behind Astrid. “Afternoon,” he said, canting his head.

“I’m looking for Lowe,” she repeated.

An unspoken conversation passed between Astrid and Bo. She nodded, giving him some sort of permission.

Bo nudged the brim of his cap up with a knuckle. “Actually, the two of us were headed over to see him. If you’d like, you can ride along.”

She couldn’t even answer properly. She just nodded and ran to pay the cabbie. A couple of minutes later, she was in the backseat of a Pierce-Arrow limousine with Astrid, and Bo was driving them out of Pacific Heights.

Astrid tried to make small talk, but Hadley was too wound up to be anything more than the worst of conversationalists. An awkward, uncomfortable silence stretched out over long city blocks. It wasn’t until they passed through Russian Hill that Hadley realized she hadn’t asked where they were going.