Chapter 26
March
Two Weeks Until The Wedding
There’s a buzzing noise as I enter my apartment.
My alarm clock, announcing it’s six in the morning and I’ve officially been up for twenty-four hours.
It means nothing. I’m as wired as if I just pounded twelve cups of coffee.
Making it through the rest of the hen do was nothing short of torture.
I practically sat on my hands to keep from biting my cuticles, from fidgeting, until I could get back here and do something with this new information.
I hurry to my bedroom, Kotka leaping from the bed when she sees me. Jamming down the button on the alarm clock, I reach into my bedside table and pull out the summoning stone and Trip’s earring. I place each in a hand and squeeze. Babcia’s voice rings through my head clear as day.
Don’t use that stone a third time, Elzbieta.
My fingers unfurl and I drop both items to the floor. They skitter across the hardwood with several loud clacks, and Kotka chases after them. I fall halfway onto my bed with my head on the pillow and feet still on the floor.
Maybe I’ll just wait. Trip will come eventually, right? The other night was—well, the closest I’ve felt to someone in a while. It’s only been a week and yet I’m aching for him. He’ll come soon.
I tap my fingers on my stomach. Two weeks, the devil on my shoulder whispers.
We have only two weeks to figure this out.
What if he waits another week like we agreed and we lose half of our time?
Or more terrifying, what if his body can’t hold out that long?
What if that’s why he hasn’t come to see me?
My stomach sours, and not from the shots Sabrina convinced us to do last night.
I’m not only running out of time to break the curse, I’m running out of time with Trip before his family ends life support. What will happen to his spirit when his body lets go? I’m not willing to find out.
Lifting myself off the bed, I crouch onto the floor and retrieve the stone and earring. I squeeze each in a separate palm.
Sorry, Babcia.
I bring my fists together and clasp the items tight.
Trip appears in an instant and his hands move to my hips, his nose dipping to my forehead. “Thank god, Elz. I was wait—” His eyes roam my body. “Do I even want to know why you’re wearing that?”
God, the catsuit. “Wait right here.” I point at him. “I’m not kidding, do not move an inch. I’m going to change.”
He holds his palms up, then smirks. “If you get dressed right here, I guarantee I’ll stay.”
I roll my eyes, pulling leggings and a sweatshirt out of my dresser. “Be right back.”
In the bathroom, I peel the catsuit off and splash cold water on my face. Sobriety isn’t the issue. I need something to calm the adrenaline coursing through my body.
“You still there?” I dab at my face with a towel.
“Yup.”
Trip’s voice is a salve to my anxiety. It’s like someone twisted the dial of a timer and we only have so much longer until everything changes. One way or the other.
I lean on the doorframe separating the bathroom from the bedroom. Trip sits perched at the end of the bed studying his hands. When he looks up at me, a smile spreads across his face.
“Come here.” He pats the bed and his voice is husky.
“I didn’t summon you for that.”
“Oh. Well, a man can dream.” A smile plays across his mouth.
I exhale and move to the edge of the bed between his legs. “Trip.” My voice is breathy. “I think I was right about the card theory.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“Sabrina has a deck of cards that’s been handed down in her family. You should see the deck. The box has gold leaf. Anyway, it’s missing two cards.” I swallow. His eyes move to my throat. “The king of hearts and the queen of diamonds.”
Trip runs a hand through his hair and it sticks up on end. He closes his eyes and his dark eyelashes look so soft, I want to press a kiss to them.
“ ‘Should a Coldwell heart wed the Carmichael diamonds’…” He pauses. “Meaning the missing king of hearts. What’s the line about the diamond?”
“ ‘But the lost Carmichael diamond must seal the match,’ ” I finish. “It must mean the missing queen of diamonds, right?”
He nods once and looks at me. “Since it says ‘Coldwell heart,’ does that mean the king of hearts needs to come from a Coldwell deck? While the lost diamond is from the Carmichaels’?”
I exhale a soft laugh. “I can only guess at the curse’s rules, but I think so.”
“I know where to find one—a Coldwell heart, I mean.” His eyes darken, the lines of his face tighten.
“You do?” The reality hits me. Months of dead ends, of turning the riddle over in my mind. Twelve years since Carter first told me about the curse. And now, we might actually break it. It’s too soon to allow the thought.
“We’re so close, Trip.” I reach my hand out and run my fingers along the line of his jaw. “Just tell me what I need to do,” I breathe.
His eyes don’t leave mine. “It’s Sunday, so Cynthia will be at St. Patrick’s for the service and then over to my mom’s house for brunch. It’s a tradition.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that the townhouse will be unoccupied for a few hours. We—you—need to get in.”
“To the Coldwell townhouse? I’m not breaking in.” I’m paralyzed.
The townhouse was my sanctum in my teen years. Cynthia and Carter were my second family as far as I was concerned. To betray their trust, to enter their home uninvited—it’s a cruel joke and the thing I’m least willing to do.
Trip nods. “Okay. But it’s the only place I’m certain there’s a deck of cards that belonged to my grandfather.”
I exhale. “What if we take a beat? I can call Carter this week and he can let me into the house. Then I’ll slip away and look for the deck.”
“Sure, sure. That’s fine, Elz. Summon me again when you’re ready.” He makes no move to leave.
My heart sinks. The same fear from earlier grips me. “How are you feeling?”
“What?”
“Recently. Have there been any changes? Feeling like you’re—I don’t know—fading, or, anything?”
He chuckles. “What are you getting at?”
I twist my gold chain. “I’m trying to figure out how much time we have left. If—if you’re close to…” I shrug. To have come this far, to have the solution practically in our hands. It isn’t the time to stall, to gamble the unknown amount of time Trip has left.
Trip looks at the floor, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m not sure what that would feel like. But don’t worry about me.” He reaches out to grab my arm, that familiar vibration a comfort.
What would I do if that went away? Carter is in the middle of planning his own wedding.
It’s possible he won’t have a chance to take me to his mom’s house for another week, maybe more.
What if he insists on waiting till after the wedding?
I’m not sure what I’d tell him anyway. That I left something there?
He’ll think it’s no big deal. Anything more urgent would raise alarm bells.
There’s also no guarantee we’ll find the cards we’re looking for on our first search.
“We’re going to the townhouse.”
Trip’s eyes widen. “What?”
“I’m not taking any chances, Trip Coldwell. Let’s find this deck of cards.”
—
It’s any other Sunday on East Seventy-third Street.
Couples push strollers, artsy-looking men walk their dogs, and no one suspects that I—and my invisible counterpart—plan to break into the townhouse in front of us.
Inhaling deeply and straightening my posture, I step up to the front door and ring the bell.
“What are you doing?” Trip whispers.
“Checking first,” I say out the side of my mouth. “Wouldn’t want the surprise of breaking in to find someone stayed home this particular Sunday, would we?”
“Why don’t you let me check?” Trip floats through the wall.
Oh, right. I tap my foot. What if someone from Carter’s family stops by? What will be my reason for sitting out here on the front step?
A few minutes pass and Trip materializes again. “All clear. What now?” He crosses his arms over his chest, even though I’m fairly certain he’s immune to the spring chill. “Key under the flowerpot?”
I roll my eyes. “Not everyone’s as trusting as you, unfortunately.” I glance toward the alleyway on the right side of the house. “No. I know how to get in.”
I walk at a fast clip down the stairs and around the corner into the alley, keeping one eye on the street at all times for suspicious passersby.
The fire escape looks the same, like the trusted old friend that it is.
How many nights did Carter sneak back in this way?
Sometimes I did too, when I’d been drinking and thought Babcia would have my hide for it.
“Do I want to know?” Trip’s voice rumbles in my ear, from somewhere just over my shoulder.
“Probably not.” I continue walking to the end of the alley, where there’s a large wooden crate. Amazing that it’s still here. I pick it up and place it just under the ladder of the fire escape.
“You keep watch. Give me a signal if someone notices me.”
“Yes, boss.” Trip gives a small salute and turns to face the street, his back to me.
Standing on my tiptoes on top of the crate, I reach as high as I can and grab the last rung of the ladder. I do a dead hang until I feel the metal start to slide downward from my weight. Just like riding a bike.
I let go and the bottom of the ladder hits the box with a thud. Reaching for the highest rung I can, I begin my ascent. I’m about to hoist myself onto the balcony portion when Trip yells, “Hold up!”
Oh shit. My heart stutters and I scan the street. Nothing is obviously amiss. “What is it?”
“Just liked the view.” His grin is wicked.
I roll my eyes. “Hardly the time for that.”
“Right. Back to work.” Trip faces the street again, still grinning.
Two more staircases up and I’m outside what used to be Carter’s bedroom window.
An actual ghost might be haunting me, but this—the memory of climbing through this window at seventeen, eighteen, twenty years old, and knowing that life is no longer mine—sends a shiver down my spine.
My reflection in the glass pane is a wiser, more confident Libby, but I momentarily mourn that girl who climbed through this window so many nights with misplaced hope in her chest.
Focus. Carter usually left his window unlocked. He hasn’t slept in this room in at least five years, but I send up a prayer that not much has changed. The room will be mostly unused, I think. Another problem presents itself.
“Trip!” I whisper-shout. “Get up here!”
Trip floats to a spot next to me on the balcony.
“Cynthia will have some kind of alarm system in place.” I bite my nail. “Even if this window is unlocked, it will set off an alarm. And cameras.” I smack my forehead. “They probably have security cameras in there.”
“So, are we giving up for today?” There’s no hint of disappointment in his eyes.
“No way. I need you to disarm the system.”
“You need—what?” Trip’s eyes go wide. “I can’t control it like that, Elz. It could impact the city block, or completely miss the alarm system.”
“You did the other night with the record player.” I raise an eyebrow.
His cheeks flush at the memory. He musses his hair. “Yeah. I was in a heightened state.”
“So get heightened, then.”
“Excuse me?”
“Think of something upsetting, or…” The corners of my mouth turn up. “You know how I knew about this window?”
Trip swallows. “Uh…”
“Carter and I used to sneak in here some nights when we didn’t want anyone to know we’d been out.
We’d fall asleep in his bed—always platonic, of course—but I’d lie there and wish he would make a move.
That an arm or leg would reach out underneath the sheets and send sparks all the way down my body.
That one day, we’d be living in this house together and would look back on those nights and laugh.
And we’d think about the first time we touched each other—”
“Alright.” Trip huffs. “One moment.” He glides through the stone wall.
I wait for a flicker, anything, to indicate something’s happening.
Endless time passes while he’s gone. I sit and pull my knees to my chest, afraid to be seen by anyone on the street level.
Did he straight-up leave me? I’m worried I pissed him off enough that he might have. Not your brightest idea, Libby.
There’s a hum in the air and when I look up, Trip’s standing on the balcony in front of me.
“Should be all set.” His baritone is a deep contrast to the birds chirping nearby.
I meet his eyes over the tops of my knees. “Trip, I’m so—”
“It’s okay, Elz.” He smiles. “I’m not that fragile, I promise.”
Standing, I study his face. He’s calm, relaxed. A little tired, maybe, like messing with the electricity took it out of him.
“Better hurry,” he says. “I don’t know how long it will last.”
I place my hands on the bottom of the window, say a silent prayer, and pull.
It slides open a few inches, and I let out a sigh of relief.
With three pulls, there’s enough space for me to climb through.
I swing my leg over the ledge and into Carter’s bedroom.
I guess Cynthia isn’t one for redecorating, because it looks the same as when he was in college.
To be fair, even when he was a kid, it looked like something out of a Pottery Barn catalog.
Never embarrassing color schemes or tacky posters like some of us.
Trip appears to my left.
“Where to?” My heart is thundering. Every second in here is like the ticking of a bomb.
“The library.” Trip exhales. “That’s where we’ll find the deck.”
That’s one floor below us. I turn the handle of Carter’s door and Trip floats ahead of me, just in case.
The coast is clear as I descend the staircase and hurry down the hallway to the door of the library.
The place I first met Trip. I’ll be safe if I can just get to the room.
Once we reach the library, I’m in the clear, I’ve succeeded.
I sprint the last few feet and push the door open.
There’s a man sitting at the desk.
Crap crap crap. Maybe if I’m quiet, I can back out of the room without him noticing. His gaze rises to meet mine and I stop short. Because the man is John Coldwell. The First.