Chapter 23. Jade
Jade
Back at Miramar, the stone walls of the manor feel colder, and the space has grown darker.
I don’t see Dr. Hill or Maeve, but Sid is milling about, and I’ve received the first task of my new position.
I’m sorting jewelry that belonged to Baxter’s first wife.
I’m not sure what her name was, but I guess she died young—and he kept way too many of her belongings. I wonder how Maeve felt about that.
I’m seated in a velvet chair at a large, kingly table with a mirror-like polish in a spacious dining room. A massive crystal chandelier hangs overhead. My task is to detangle all the necklaces and arrange the rings and brooches in some semblance of order.
When I open the lid of the massive walnut jewelry box, I feel like a pirate.
I’ve never seen such a collection of glittering jewels, splashes of gold and silver intermixed.
Is Conrad testing me? Even though the necklaces are tangled, it’s possible that he has inventoried every last piece and plans to check afterward to account for all items.
“I have to go into town for business,” he says. “Mother is still resting, so when you’re finished organizing the jewelry, you can head home for the day. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll get you started sorting through my stepfather’s old closet. Nine AM?”
“Sounds great,” I reply, wondering what happens before seven. But I know all three rules, and he can count every piece of jewelry when he returns. It will all be here—except for the piece hanging around my neck.
I peer at the inscription etched on the back of my pendant—Beauport, MA.
The detached stone is in my pocket. I almost showed it to Conrad so he knows it’s mine, but then I’d have to explain too much.
I could ask him about local jewelers. He might be able to help me figure out where it came from.
But I bet he only knows the super-high-end shops, and my piece—though I love it—is hardly Carmichael caliber.
The detangling work is mind-numbingly tedious but oddly satisfying. It’s very quiet. The home has the weighty silence of an empty church.
A sound outside the dining room catches me by surprise. I take a break to investigate. If anyone asks, I’ll say I’m stretching my stiff legs.
I peek into the great hall, expecting to see Sid wandering around, but instead, it’s Rose.
She casts anxious, fleeting glances around her, not noticing me as she fishes through her apron pocket and pulls out a large brass key.
She slips the key into the lock of a door, which I suspect leads to the top of the tower.
I hear the click as the lock disengages, the creak as the door slides open, and then another click as Rose locks the door from the inside.
Only when I’m sure no one is coming do I dare approach. The wooden door is tall and impressive, made from smooth, weathered teak. A polished, antique doorknob shaped like a seashell shines like it doesn’t get turned often.
My intuition tells me to walk away. But something about this door beckons me, daring me closer—a challenge it knows I will accept.
Pressing my ear to the brass keyhole, I listen.
Someone is talking in a low voice, muffled and indistinct. Then I hear something else—a sad, lonesome moan. It’s eerie and quiet, like the faint cry of an owl in a deep, dark wood.
Another noise bounces down the stairs—this time, a piano plinking. I’m not sure if it’s a recording or if someone is playing. But I’m certain I’ve heard the song before. It’s a famous lullaby. It’s beautiful.
The moaning stops as the music begins. The melody wraps around me, sweet and sad, like a memory I can’t grasp. But that moan … that wasn’t singing. That was something else, more like a trapped animal, not entirely human.
Great. Wouldn’t it be my luck to get caught up in a werewolf saga?
I’m lost in the music when a loud thwack strikes right above my head. I jump. My heart rockets to my throat. For a second, I can’t breathe.
It’s Conrad, his palm planted flat against the wood about three inches above my head. He hovers over me like a tall shadow.
I turn slowly to face him, trying to control my breathing. I can barely meet his eyes.
“I forgot something,” he says in a deliberately cool, calm voice. “And it appears you forgot something as well: Rule one, Jade. The tower is off-limits. Always.”