Mack (King #4)(40)

Everyone who lives in San Francisco knows this home that sits high on a hill overlooking the mouth of the bay, constantly covered in a sheet of fog no matter the time of year. The servants believe it is haunted by a ghost. The local merchants say that the man who lives there is mad, but pays a fair price for anything they procure for him. The gentlemen of society say that this man is dangerous, but that he can find anything or anyone. For a price.

The carriage stops in front of the three-story house with dark blue paint and large white shutters. The unkempt front yard, full of leaves and overgrown vegetation poking through the wrought-iron gate, gives the place a foreboding look. But now I know who and what I am. I remember everything. This place is full of power. And if anyone can help me find what I am searching for, it is him.

I tell the driver to wait and let myself inside the gate. As I get closer to the multicolored stained-glass door, goose bumps explode all over my body. The air is filled with energy. Bad energy. I can actually see it seeping from the ground and the woodwork.

I knock, but no one answers. Lord. He has to be in there. I can feel him watching me, reading me. Finally, the door pops and swings open with a loud creak.

“Hello?” It’s dark inside, and I can see colors—imprints, if you will—of those who’ve entered before me. Some have met their fates in this house. I might meet mine, too. But helping Macarius is all that matters.

I enter the dark foyer, sensing that something is near.

“Come into the sitting room,” says an ominous voice that suddenly makes me wish I hadn’t come.

I cautiously enter and see the dark form of a man sitting in the corner. He’s barely visible to me.

“What do you want, woman?”

I clear my throat. “Sir, I am told that you locate objects for people.”

“And what is it you wish to locate? A husband? A lost slipper?” There’s amusement in his tone, but I ignore it.

“I wish to break a curse. I have gold if you wish to see it.”

“What kind of curse?” he says, his interest sounding piqued.

“The kind that was made by an angry father.”

The man chuckles under his breath, and it sends sharp painful tingles down my spine. “Let me guess. This father is displeased by your romantic choices.”

I nod. “More or less.”

“Well, you best be on your way, little girl. I do not find that which has been lost up one’s * such as your father’s patience. But I assure you, his disapproval is not a curse; it is merely an inconvenience. Please show yourself out.”

How dare he. “I am not some na?ve little girl seeking a charm to gain my father’s approval. And if you are as powerful as everyone says, you would know that.”

I’m wasting my time here, and I turn to leave, wondering how I’ll ever fix the man I care for more than life itself.

“Wait,” the man says as I step toward the front door. “Come back here.”

I return to the room, where he’s no longer sitting in the shadows but is standing in the soft light filtering through a gap in the drawn curtains.

Good Lord. I know him. He looks like Macarius once did. More memories pop into my head—of this man hunting me down with his sword, of me begging for my life. I realize this man is his twin brother. He is vicious and cruel. He has no light inside him despite his utter masculine beauty and fine clothes.

This is some sick turn of fate.

And he is a ghost, I realize. A soul who out of sheer spite for this world has refused to go. He clings to this world so fiercely, he appears real to the naked eye. To my eyes, however, I see right through him. Literally and figuratively.

I instinctively shut it all out. I’ve made a grave mistake coming here. Oh God, this man will kill me if he realizes who I am.

“I, uhhh…I have changed my mind.” I turn to leave.

“How unfortunate,” he says, “because I have the answer to your question.”

I stop just short of the front door, feeling torn between saving myself and saving Macarius. Logic would tell me that his own brother would have helped him by now if he’d had the means. Unless…I am the key as Macarius says.

I turn and face the towering figure who is a mere five feet away. I know it’s only a question of moments before he recognizes me.

“What’s the price?” I ask, trying not to sound nervous.

“This one is on the house, because you will find the answer very disagreeable.”

I am not encouraged by this, as to be expected.

He continues, “Death is the only way to truly end a curse such as that.”

“And if the soul has been cursed?”

“Then the soul must die, too—it must move on from this world, detach from anything that doesn’t truly belong to it. But you know that already, don’t you, óolal?”

Balls. He knows.

Before another word leaves my mouth, the man evaporates right before my eyes and reappears behind me, snapping my neck. And all I can think of in that split second is that I didn’t kiss Macarius goodbye.

Will I see him again in my next life?

~~~

“Fuck!” I sat up, clawing at my neck, realizing that I was back in that strange cabin in the desert.

It’s just a dream. Just a dream. But goddammit, it wasn’t. I was there, in the moment, living every breath and emotion. Each second had felt just as real as the throbbing in my skull.