Chapter 42
brAVO, SELAH
The next morning, I walk through fog as thick as soup, the manor a hulking shadow in the gray haze. Not until I reach the fountain does the portico take shape. With my heart pounding and the photographs pressed nervously between my palms, I climb the stone steps.
The front doors fly open.
Just like yesterday.
Only this time, it isn’t Jude on the other side with a compass and a brittle sheet of paper. It’s Rafe with his car keys. And for just a moment, before he realizes I’m there with him, he looks wild. Unhinged. Terrifying.
My thoughts lurch to our first encounter in the graveyard.
You remind me of a girl I sort of know.
From a portrait painted by his brother.
Rafe is Raphael.
And Raphael is Rafe.
He seduced Molly Ludwig. Did he poison Lydia, too? Has he been the harbinger of this curse, a living ghost through the centuries, tormenting Ezra’s descendants and killing off innocent women?
Am I next?
His attention lands on me. He stops in the doorway and his charming mask slides into place. “Good morning,” he says, the corners of his mouth curling upward like the Grinch. “How’s your bestie? Is his arm okay?”
I hide the photographs behind my back, heart revving into overdrive.
Rafe narrows his eyes. His gaze drops to my throat, where my pulse hammers. He tilts his head. “You’re afraid of me.”
I step back, heels brushing the edge of the stone stair.
“And not just afraid like I-hurt-your-friend afraid.” He makes a low sound in his throat—interested, amused—the tilt of his head deepening as he slides his hands into his pockets. “You know, don’t you?”
Fear grabs me by the throat.
“You know who I am. Bravo, Selah. Most people don’t figure that out until it’s too late.” He cocks his head in the other direction. “What else have you figured out—the location of the gemstones?”
My gut twists with nausea.
The entryway spins.
I don’t want to make eye contact. I’m terrified he’ll see the truth if I do.
But Rafe darts forward like a snake. Suddenly, he’s right there—mask gone, unhinged once again—gripping my arm with such ferocity, I gasp.
“My brother could have buried those gemstones,” he growls.
“He could have traveled to the ocean and tossed them in the waves. But Isabel found the ruby in the family safe. A Vandenberg heirloom. If he turned that amulet into a necklace, I can’t help but think he did something similar with the other two. Am I getting warm, Selah?”
I try to jerk free, but his grip only tightens. “With all the research you and your boy toy have been doing, something tells me you know exactly where—”
“What’s going on?” The commanding question comes from Jude.
Rafe’s eyes droop with annoyance as Jude steps into the doorway, concern etched on every line, in every angle of his face.
“We were just having a little chat.” Rafe lets go of my arm and straightens his coat.
Jude’s concern melts into suspicion. “About what?”
“Tonight. The ball. Her dance card.” He gives his dark eyebrows a wag. “If you won’t dance with her, I will. You are going to come, aren’t you, Selah? It’s shaping up to be quite the show. Your friend, Lainey, has a starring role.”
He leans close, his voice a blade against my ear. “You keep asking what I want with her. Come to the ball and find out.” He tosses his keys in the air, catches them with a flick of his wrist, and disappears into the fog with a soft chuckle that chills me to the bone.
I stand there, frozen.
Terrified.
“What was that about?” Jude asks.
But I can’t answer.
I can’t hardly breathe.
“Selah.” He steps closer. “You’re shaking.”
I suck in a breath. “He’s Raphael.”
“What?”
“The reason he wants to open the tomb? It’s because he’s Raphael.”
Jude’s brow furrows.
I hand him the photographs. “I found these last night inside The Great Gatsby. From Enoch’s trunk.”
“The pictures from Daniel,” Jude mutters.
I watch as he takes them.
I watch as he looks at them.
And I watch as all the blood drains from his face.