At the terrible thought, a sob rose up inside her.
Once, she’d thought they’d all be better off if the guys left. Now, Belle wasn’t entirely sure she’d live through their parting. She’d gotten so used to being with them, to having them in her everyday life. She couldn’t imagine how quiet the house would be without them. But her feelings stemmed from more than a worry about being lonely. Belle would miss them like she’d miss the beating heart they’d tear from her chest when they left.
She took a deep breath and picked up her tea mug. Weariness threatened to invade her bones. Despite the fact that she wasn’t alone at night, what little sleep she got wasn’t restful. Her dreams were still haunted by swinging ropes and screaming women as they were dragged to their deaths. She still heard those whispers in the night that warned her to leave. Often, she’d sit straight up in bed. Then the voices would stop, only to start again when she settled back against her pillow.
The sound from the television drifted from the living room.
Police are still investigating the murder of local madam, Karen Ehlers, age fifty-nine. Ehlers allegedly ran the most upscale brothel in New Orleans. She was found strangled in her home just over a week ago amid rumors that she was preparing to write a tell-all autobiography that would have outed several of New Orleans’s most powerful men as her clients. The police haven’t made any arrests. In a press conference earlier today, they requested that anyone with information about Elhers’s infamous client list or the murder contact them.
Belle shuddered as she walked into the parlor and saw another dead woman center screen. The last thing she needed before bed was to listen to tales of death and mayhem. She already had them running through her head every night.
Belle stretched as she walked into the parlor and turned on the overhead lights. They illuminated the room with warm, golden light as she headed for her favorite chair in the house. It was a big comfortable wingback in the corner. The fabric was an eye-assaulting brocade, but she couldn’t bring herself to change it. Big bookshelves full of eclectic tomes flanked the chair, and the prettiest Tiffany lamp decorated the adjoining side table.
At some point, her grandmother had begun using this space less as a room to greet guests and more as a cozy place to relax. She could envision her grandmother sitting in the comfy chair while reading. Belle had taken to curling up there in the evenings and reading her grandmother’s journal before she retired.
The woman she’d met only at her father’s funeral fascinated her. The diary hinted at some big and slightly scandalous parties back in her day. Belle had wondered more than once what her grandmother would say about her unusual relationship with Kell, Eric, and Tate. Oddly enough, she had the sense that Grandma would have understood.
The overhead lights flickered, blinked twice, and died, sending the room into gloom again. Belle sighed. Maybe they weren’t done with Mike after all. She reached over and pulled the chain on the Tiffany lamp. Luckily, it came on, giving her a small circle of light. Belle settled against the back of the cozy chair, deciding the little pool of illumination was actually quite nice.
She opened the journal, flipping to the place where she’d left off last night, and settled in eagerly.
My darling boy, I hear you had a baby girl. Annabelle. Oh, my son. I’m so proud you named her after my dearest Belle. She loved you so. I sent a gift, but I don’t expect you to receive it well. If you send it back to me, I’ll give it to the orphanage. They can always use the money. I wish I could see her, see the smallest piece of myself in her beautiful, tiny face. You won’t allow it, but know that I love that child like I love you, son. Tell her to have the best life she can. Tell her to find love and when she does, you tell her to never let it go. You tell her to fight in a way I didn’t. I let your father go too easily. You tell her she’ll never regret that she fought. She will only mourn if she doesn’t.
Would it please you to know I sold the business? Likely not. I’m too old to control those girls anymore. I’m far past my prime. I’ll just read my cards in the Square from now on. I’ll tell tourists the futures they want to hear, then maybe—just maybe—they’ll create their own self-fulfilling prophecies and make their dreams come true. Sometimes all a person needs is a little faith. I have the greatest faith that someday you will forgive me. Someday I will prove myself and my adoration to you. I love you, my boy. Take care of your baby girl.
Tears sprang to Belle’s eyes. She sniffled, the words in front of her watery but seared into her heart. She flipped the page to read on, to find out why her father had never forgiven his own mother. But that was the last page of the entry. The rest of the pages remained void—like their mother-son rapport.
Why had her father been so angry with Grandma? Belle couldn’t understand why he’d kept her from a loving grandmother. It was so obvious the woman had adored her only son. In earlier entries, she’d written tearfully about sending him away for boarding school. She’d missed her son desperately, but wanted what was best for him. How had her father not seen or believed in that love?
Belle read the entry again, looking for clues. The words seemed to swell off the page and into her consciousness. Fight. Fight for the love she wanted and deserved. Risk her heart. Take a chance.
It scared her. She’d already seen what life looked like when one didn’t. Her grandmother had ended up alone. Her mother, too. Her father…she recalled his occasionally withdrawn moods. Had her family all walked away from love and lived to regret it? Could she break the cycle?
On the other hand, she’d tried so hard as a child to make her mom love her again following her father’s passing and she’d failed. After that, she’d stopped trying at all, refusing to let herself be hurt again.
Was she playing out the same patterns as her ancestors? Sure, she’d listened to Kellan’s terrible past, even empathized with him, but had she fought for him? Really? For all of them to stay and love her?
No. She’d pushed them away to protect her heart, but it was already breaking. And if she didn’t change something now, she feared she’d soon mourn the fact that she had not done absolutely everything she could to keep them.
The light in the room flickered on again. Belle glanced up at the big fixture dangling from the ceiling. It flared and died, a popping sound splitting the air.
She stood. Damn it. Mike had sworn everything was up to current code. He’d smiled and taken her check, and now Belle kind of wanted to punch him in the face. Guess she’d be calling him again in the morning.
With a sigh, she leaned back against the chair, wishing her other problems would be half so easy to fix.
Suddenly, every hair on her body stood up. The air seemed to turn electric. Goose bumps covered her body.
A shadow snagged her attention, and Belle zipped her gaze to the far wall in time to watch a dark mass move across the area. She gulped in a silent breath, her eyes widening as the figure moved toward the window. The whole room seemed to turn cold.
There was no way to deny what her eyes were seeing. That shadow moving across her wall didn’t move like a person. It seemed to float off the ground. It didn’t have defined legs.
It wasn’t of this world.
A cold menace snaked across her skin. All the air in the room was suddenly sucked away. Her lungs ached. Time slowed to a stop as she watched the black mass pause, turn. Was it coming her way?
She felt a cold touch on her shoulder, almost like an icy finger passing through her flesh. She heard a scream. Then the whole world went black.