“Deathless?”
“Indestructible. For eight years, anyway. And I saw it with my own eyes. Death wouldn’t touch Noel. He would not bleed out from a stabbing, nor die from a bullet. Disease and poison had no effect. I pushed him off a cliff in 1901. He fell several hundred feet, brushed himself off, and walked away.”
Dear God.
“Terribly inconvenient for me, as the more I learned about the length of their affair, and how much my wife still cared for him, I was rather sorry I saved him. The only thing I wanted in those ensuing years was to bury the bastard—and it was the one thing I couldn’t do.”
“And your wife had this same advantage? This deathlessness?”
“No.” The blind man felt around the table for his tea and took a sip. “My wife seemed perfectly normal. Human. And Hadley was born healthy. Nothing was amiss. I began to hope perhaps she got lucky, and that since Noel got the curse’s blessing, he’d also be the one to pay its price after eight years—that Vera would live a normal life.”
The old man shook his head and continued.
“But eight years is a long time when you’re young. And spell or no spell, Vera just would not give Noel up. She insisted she loved us both equally, but would leave both Hadley and me if I forced her to end the affair. I couldn’t risk that. If she wouldn’t leave him, I figured I’d just take him off the playing field. So, two years into the curse, I began searching for a way to kill a man who can’t die.”
“The amulet,” Lowe whispered.
Bacall nodded. “If it were assembled, I could call up a door and Noel would be claimed. Maybe it would be enough to pay the ferryman, so to speak. Or, if nothing else, Vera might borrow Noel’s extra years once he was out of the picture.”
“So you searched for the amulet and found the crossbars, but you couldn’t find the base.”
“Exactly. I sent them home, hoping to keep them hidden from Vera. But she was smart. And she couldn’t bear to lose Noel, which is why she hid the crossbars when she realized what I was planning on using them to do. She couldn’t let me kill him.”
Lowe remembered Vera’s words during the channeling, warning Hadley to keep the amulet out of both men’s hands. “But after she hid the crossbars, the earthquake hit.”
“Exactly eight years to the day that the witch had cast the curse on them,” Bacall said. “I arrived home from England an hour before the earthquake struck.” Unseeing eyes blinked away tears. He shook his head and composed himself. “As you can see, this house survived both the quake and the Great Fire. But Vera was not so lucky.”
He leaned toward Lowe, as if he could see him. “You see, the spell was meant for one person—not two. And because it was cast on both Vera and Noel at the same time, the magic split. My partner got the advantageous part of the spell—the immunity from death. And my wife’s soul was dragged into the underworld, harvested by dark reapers.”
Hadley’s Mori.
“And as if that weren’t enough,” Bacall continued, “not only did these reapers take my wife’s life, they somehow got passed along to my daughter. I suppose it’s because Vera was pregnant with Hadley when the original spell was cast, because after my wife died, the spirits started appearing to my daughter.”
Christ. Mummy’s curse, he’d told Hadley all these years.
Anger tinted Bacall’s voice. “You can’t fathom how shocked I was to see them again after they’d taken Vera’s life. I thought they’d come to take Hadley, too. But no. They were just attached to her, appearing for short times, then disappearing. It was as if she was being haunted by ghosts—ghosts that never seemed to scare her, even when she was a child.”
“Did she see her mother taken by them?”
“No, and I never told her. You can’t imagine how terrifying it was to watch them following my daughter around like hellhounds. They are a plague. Nasty, evil creatures. They’d taken my wife, and for eight years after Vera’s death, I was terrified they’d take Hadley, too. I prepared for the worst, waiting for them to turn on her.”
“But they didn’t,” Lowe said quietly.
Bacall shook his head. “They seem to be merely bound to her without purpose. I’ve come to believe they are still hanging around because of Noel. He tricked death. That spell should’ve taken his life, too—not just Vera’s. But as long as he’s alive, Hadley bears the burden of the specters.”
They may not want Hadley’s life, but they were still hungry to reap souls. Lowe nearly said this out loud, but caught himself. In Dr. Bacall’s mind, Lowe barely knew Hadley at all. And if the man got an inkling of what Lowe had been doing to his daughter? Well, he damn sure could take away the dangling check, couldn’t he?
“We haven’t spoken for years, Noel and I,” Bacall said. “But I knew he’d heard about your discovery of the amulet base, because a week after it appeared in the papers, I received an anonymous note telling me I’d never see the amulet rejoined with my own eyes. Later that day I lost my sight.”
“The blindness is magically induced?”
“Quite. I believe the spell was embedded into his note. And it’s degenerative. I seem to be aging at an inhuman rate. He’s slowly killing me.”
Lowe exhaled a long breath. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop the aging?”
“All my hope rides on the amulet. If he dies, I live—if he lives, I die. It’s not just revenge anymore. It’s both self-preservation and concern for Hadley’s well-being. If I die, I’m not sure what he might do to her.”
As long as Lowe was still breathing, not a damn thing.
Christ. He now understood why Bacall was willing to part with a small fortune to obtain the amulet. And consequently, why Noel Irving would go to any lengths to stop him. Lowe would have to give Bacall the real amulet—not Monk. That’s all there was to it. He’d figure out some way to make it work. He always did.
“Where can I find your partner?”
Bacall shook his head. “He officially dropped off the map after Vera died. I can tell you where he might be hiding, but if he’s trailing you, you’re going to need to seek out some stronger protection.”
Lowe began to assure the man that he would, but Bacall seemed to struggle with several breaths. Sweat broke over the man’s brow. “Are you all right?” Lowe asked.
“My neck seems to be—” The blind man slammed a fist to his own chest and clutched at his shirt before his body began slipping out of the wheelchair.
TWENTY-TWO
HADLEY GLANCED UP AT the oversized clock in the hospital waiting room after the doctor strode away. It was nearly midnight, and she and Lowe were the last people sitting on a cold bench in a long, sterile hallway. She could hardly believe mere hours had passed since she’d gotten Lowe’s phone call. It seemed like days. But now that she could finally take a moment to exhale and relax her alert posture, her mind decided to crackle into action.
“Only a mild heart attack,” Lowe said at her side. “You heard the doctor. It happens all the time. Some people never even seek medical help.”
“Yes, but those people aren’t having the life sucked out of their bones by a madman wielding dark magic.”
“It was likely just the natural progression of the original aging spell, not a new attack.”
“Not much of a consolation.”
“And he’ll be able to come home in a day or two,” Lowe said. “He’s going to be fine.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough for us to either find his old partner and send him to the bottom of the Bay in a bag filled with rocks, or to find the last two crossbars.” He ducked to catch her gaze. “Listen to me, Hadley. We won’t fail him.”
She slumped against the stiff bench and sighed. “All of this is simply overwhelming. The heart attack and everything he told you before it happened. I’m torn between feeling sorry for my father and selfishly angry with him for not telling me sooner. And the worst part is that I have to pretend I don’t know.”