“There’s a toolbox in the basement,” I say, my blood humming with anticipation. Because one way or another, we’re getting inside this book.
A moment later, we’re descending the stairs into Maggie’s dungeon as she pursues with continued protest. “What in tarnation has come over the pair of you? Destroying a book? You might as well join the censors and pitch it into the flames.”
“We want to read it, Maggie. Not destroy it,” I say, grabbing a hammer from the tool box. I hand it to Jude, who sets the book on the scarred, wooden table where Twig and I record ourpodcast. Maggie watches, aghast in the shadows, as he bangs on the steel lock.
Once.
Twice.
The latch finally busts open.
He drops the hammer onto the table and all three of us, even scandalized Maggie, surge forward to see what’s hiding inside. I expect answers. I expect clarity. Finally, all the confounding puzzle pieces will come together to form a picture that makes astounding sense. Instead, we find nothing more than a gothic children’s tale, complete with macabre illustrations.
Still, I devour it, page after page, written in old English, eager for some sliver of insight. But it’s just a fable about two fallen angels—Dante and Seraphina—undone by their own love. Power hungry and jealous, they drag mortals into their affairs in an attempt to wrest the upper hand. The tragic tale ends in Dante’s eternal slumber and Seraphina’s eternal madness, trapped in a fiery rock that streaks across the night sky every 268 years.
The origin story of Dante’s comet.
While it would have been interesting under different circumstances—a treasure worth sharing onAccounts of the Uncanny—right now, it’s a giant letdown. There’s nothing at all about the symbol. Not one mention of Ezra or his obsession. Not a whiff about a rift between worlds. Nothing to suggest this book has anything to do with theportrait or Molly or me or any of the Vandenbergs at all. All my hope and anticipation crumbles. We’re no closer to solving these riddles than we ever were.
“Why are the three of you acting so out of sorts?” Maggie asks. “What mystery are you trying to solve this time?”
Jude cocks his head. “Thethreeof us?”
“The two of you, and that cousin of yours. Why is he so suddenly curious about family heirlooms? He showed up yesterday and?—”
“Wait,” Jude interrupts. “Are you talking about Rafe?”
“Do you have another cousin?”
Jude and I exchange a look.
“He was here yesterday?” I ask Maggie.
“He showed up just before close. I was of half a mind to tell him he should go ask that preservation society he’s so fond of, but it turns out, he’s a very charming young fellow.”
Charming?
Maggie doesn’t find peoplecharming. And even if she did, surely she’d see right through a guy like Rafe. I must admit, I’m disappointed.
“What did he want?” I ask.
“He had a necklace with him. A giant ruby necklace. He wanted to know if I knew anything about similar necklaces belonging to the Vandenbergs, only instead of a ruby, they would have been made of?—”
“Onyx and pearl.”
“Why, yes. He also wanted to know if I knew where Molly Ludwig was buried.”
Molly Ludwig.
My mind spins.
Rafe is back.
When did he return, and why isn’t he making his presence known? Did he disturb Ezra’s grave? And now, is he looking to disturb Molly’s? What does he want with these gemstones?
“What are the three of you after?” Maggie asks.
Jude and I exchange another look.
