Vendetta (Deadly Curiosities Book 2) (5 page)

I was betting on story number two, although I didn’t tell her that. “How long ago did your great-aunt Amelia die?”

“She died in nineteen forty,” Mrs. Hendricks said.

“So the necklace has been in the family all these years since Amelia’s death. What led you to sell it now?”

Mrs. Hendricks was quiet for a moment, and I was afraid she was going to refuse to answer. “Some of great-aunt Amelia’s things came down to me through my mother,” she said. “Dishes and such. My parents have moved to Florida, and when they cleaned out their house, my mother gave me what she wanted me to have. That included a box of Amelia’s things, and in the box was the necklace. That was about a month ago.”

I waited, hoping she would go on. “I knew about the hair necklace because it’s a family story. But of course, something like that is very personal to the one who made it. Not like regular jewelry. No one else would ever wear it.” She paused again. “Frankly, it gave me the creeps,” she admitted with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Were there ever any ghost stories connected to the necklace?” I asked. “I’m sure someone is bound to ask.”

Mrs. Hendricks hesitated a little longer before she spoke. “When I found the necklace in that box, I didn’t like the way it made me feel,” she said. “It seemed unlucky. I try to create positive energy in my home. So I thought I would let someone else appreciate it, since my own children have no interest in that sort of thing.”

I had the feeling Mrs. Hendricks had said all she planned to say about the subject. “Thank you very much,” I said. “You’ve been generous with your time.”

“I hope it finds a good home,” she said, and paused. “But I do hope no one tries to wear it. It’s just… strange.”

I thanked her again and hung up. The necklace was indeed ‘strange’, but not in the way Mrs. Hendricks thought. Or perhaps, some latent magic warned her that the memento was not benign. That left Teag and me with a problem item to deal with, and no idea what to do about it.

And I had a nagging suspicion that whatever had come after Tad’s ghost would be back.

W
E CLOSED THE
store right at five, and even if Sorren was back in town, it wasn’t dark enough for him to be out and about yet, so Teag invited me to join him and Anthony at Jocko’s Pizzeria, our favorite place to grab a couple of slices and a cold beer.

Jocko’s is run by Giacomo Rossi, ‘Jack’ to his friends. Jack gave us a wave and a hearty “hello” from behind the counter. Just walking into Jocko’s makes me feel good. It always smells of fresh herbs, ripe tomatoes, warm cheese, and freshly-baked crusts.

“You want the usual?” Jack called. Teag shot him a thumbs-up and we went to our favorite booth in the back. Teag and I ate at Jocko’s at least once a week.

One of the things that makes Charleston such a foodie town is the fact that a large number of our restaurants aren’t chains. They’re one-of-a-kind places you can only visit here in the Holy City. We love good food almost as much as we love history and sweet tea, which is saying a lot.

The best restaurants have a history of their own that makes them special. In this case, Jocko’s had a mural on the wall that told the Rossi family history, and picked up with the turning point in Jack’s life that brought him to Charleston. Jack had been a stock trader in the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York back on September 11, 2001, and when he survived the attack, he decided that life was too short to spend behind a desk. So he quit his job, moved his family to Charleston and opened up Jocko’s using some of his mother’s recipes. The rest, as they say, is history.

We had just ordered drinks when Anthony joined us. Anthony Benton was the blond-haired, blue-eyed epitome of a Battery Row favorite son, and a partner in the family law firm. He and Teag were a long-time couple, and although Anthony didn’t know everything about our work with the Alliance, he knew enough to worry about both of us.

“Did I miss much?” he asked, slipping into the booth beside Teag and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. The waiter brought pale ale for Teag, a red wine for me, and a Chardonnay for Anthony.

“We’ve got a rampaging evil spirit that’s attacking ghosts,” Teag replied matter-of-factly. Anthony looked from Teag to me and back again.

“Seriously?”

I nodded drolly. “Yeah. All in a day’s work. How about you?”

Anthony took a sip of his wine. “Honestly, I’d trade you. This big case is running me ragged. And it’s tough getting anything done at City Hall right now, since the police are going crazy trying to track down two disappearances in as many days.” Anthony is a lawyer, and that means he talks to a lot of people in law enforcement. While he’s bound by confidentiality, in some situations, when he can, he passes along information that might help with what we do.

“Disappearances?” I keep an eye on the headlines and I’m pretty well connected to the grapevine. Teag’s Google-fu is strong, so between the two of us, we usually know what’s going on in town, and then some. This was new.

Anthony looked around, assured himself no one was close enough to overhear, and dropped his voice. “Yeah. They’ve kept it out of the news, but given the weird stuff you two deal with, I figured I should mention it. Two people walked down perfectly normal staircases and never reached the bottom.”

That was interesting. “Do the people have anything in common?” I asked.

Anthony hesitated. “Age, gender, location – all different. Other people walked up and down those stairs without a problem, before and after the disappearances.”

“When you say ‘disappeared’ –” Teag began.

Anthony met his gaze. “I mean up and vanished. Witnesses said they saw the victims start down the stairs and then just disappear before they reached the bottom.”

It had taken Anthony a while to warm up to the idea that Teag and I dealt with real magic. Teag believes that the ‘intuition’ Anthony uses so successfully in the courtroom is his own magic skill, but so far, he hasn’t convinced Anthony of that. But the times that Anthony has gone along to help out, he’s seen enough to accept the fact that the spooky stuff is real. He’s also seen Teag and me get pretty beat up fighting off supernatural nasties, and he’s helped us fend off a few surly spooks himself. I can’t blame him for worrying.

“What kind of explanation are the cops coming up with?” I asked.

Anthony’s mouth was a grim line. “Nothing to do with ghosts, I can assure you. Mostly, they think the witnesses are mistaken. Or that the victims are either playing a prank or don’t want to be found.”

The server brought out our pizza, and we fell silent as we ate. My mind kept pinging back and forth between two things that didn’t seem to have a logical connection: Tad’s ghostly stalker, and the disappearances. I’ve learned the hard way that there aren’t a lot of coincidences when you’re dealing with supernatural predators. Unfortunately, sometimes you only see the connections in hindsight, when it’s too little, too late.

“Heading home?” Teag asked Anthony when we finally finished our feeding frenzy. Teag and Anthony had moved in together a few months ago, a big step forward for them. Even so, with the crazy hours they both kept, it was still a challenge to get a lot of quality time.

Anthony shook his head. “Not for a while. I have some more files to go over before a case tomorrow. I shouldn’t be terribly late, but that’s why I figured I’d meet you for dinner rather than have you wait up.”

I could tell Teag was glad not to be the only one working late. Sorren was supposed to be headed back from Boston, and I suspected trouble was afoot. It might be a long night.

S
ORREN WAS WAITING
for us when we got back to Trifles and Folly. I flicked on the light in the back room, and jumped to find him sitting quietly at the table in the dark.

“Geez! Can’t you turn on a light or something?” I covered my surprise with some good-natured annoyance. Then again, Sorren didn’t need light. His vampire senses were sharper than mortals’ abilities, and he was stronger and faster, too. I knew he’d used his key to get into the store, but he didn’t need one. Long ago, when he was mortal, he had been the best jewel thief in Belgium.

“I assumed you’d be expecting me,” Sorren replied, a slight smile letting me know he enjoyed the banter. Sorren looks like he’s in his twenties, the age he was when he was turned back in the 1400s. His hair is an unremarkable shade of blond, his blue-gray eyes are the color of the sea before a storm, and his features are pleasant without being memorable, something that was helpful back in his thieving days. Right now, he was wearing a t-shirt and trendy jeans with sneakers. Since his skin wasn’t unnaturally pale, I figured he had fed recently. Sorren was very good at passing for mortal. But Teag and I had seen what he could do in a fight. Anyone who took him for just another twenty-something was making a fatal mistake.

“We just went out for a bite,” I said.

“So did I.” Sorren’s voice was droll, but his eyes held a hint of mischief.
Ha, ha. Vampire jokes. Did you hear the one about…

“The jewelry box I called you about is on my desk,” I said. Sorren walked over, picked up the velvet case and brought it back to the table, turning his attention to its funereal jewelry. The piece that caused me such a jolt had no effect on Sorren. He says that’s because he doesn’t
have
magic; the Dark Gift
is
magic. Handling objects with bad juju doesn’t knock him flat on his ass. “Did your trip go as planned?” I asked.

Sorren looked preoccupied. “As well as could be expected,” he replied. “There was an attack on my Boston operation. Two of my people are in the hospital. The damage to the store was contained, but it required my attention.”

He looked down at the velvet box in his hands, and I got the feeling he had said all he planned to say about Boston. “The Victorians had a lot to mourn,” Sorren said quietly as he looked at the hair necklace. “The War killed so many, and then there were the epidemics,” he added. From his tone, I wondered if he was thinking aloud rather than speaking to Teag and me. I knew Charleston’s history pretty well, and the last half of the 1800s was rough by any standards. War, Yellow Fever, earthquake, violent storms, fire... I’m sure the hardy souls who survived must have believed the world was coming to an end.

“I was going to give Father Anne a call to see if we could set Tad’s spirit free,” I said. “Maybe even help him cross over.”

Sorren nodded. “Good idea. I’m sure she’ll be up for it. She’s done that kind of thing before.”

“What about the
thing
that tried to eat him?” I asked. “That isn’t something we hear about every day. Maybe it’s also causing problems for the ghost tours and Kell’s people – scaring the ghosts and making them more aggressive.”

He frowned. “I don’t have a good answer. There are plenty of unfriendly creatures that can move back and forth across the boundary between life and death. I’m going to have to ask around.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Sounds like something the Briggs Society might know.”

When I want to find something out, I go on the internet. Teag digs into the Web’s dark, ensorcelled recesses. Sorren navigates the complicated politics of Charleston’s immortal and magical community, as well as his contacts around the world. The Briggs Society was one of those communities, a place I’d heard Sorren talk about but never visited myself, an organization dedicated to explorers of all kinds.

“Do you think we’re in danger?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “For now, assume the worst. Don’t take any chances. I’ll have Lucinda strengthen the wardings around the shop and around your houses. You can always relax once we find out there’s nothing to worry about.”

It was a nice thought. But finding ‘nothing to worry about’ seemed about as unlikely as snow in a Charleston summer.

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
I got in early to make a phone call. Tad’s ghost was still bound to that old hair necklace, still vulnerable to whatever had taken a bite out of him. After a hundred and fifty years, I figured he deserved better than hanging around a jewelry box.

If there was someone who would know about getting spirits unstuck, it would be Father Anne, Assistant Rector of St. Hildegard’s Episcopal Church. She was also a member of the St. Expeditus Society, a group of renegade Anglican priests who helped put down supernatural threats. I’d worked with her before, and I thought Tad’s problem sounded like it was right up her alley.