The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)(44)

The cicada husk had vanished and in its place were three gleaming keys.





Twenty-Six

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there staring at the keys, all lined up in a row, but teeth turned away from me, as if all I had to do was pick one up and insert it into a lock.

Which one, though? And was I really being given a choice or did each have a special purpose?

A chill lingered in the room, not from the intruder, but from my own fear. I dragged the covers over my shoulders as I scooted closer to the nightstand, wanting a better look, but not daring to touch. Not yet. I remembered the reaction I’d had when the first key had been tossed in the cellar. I’d gotten rid of it in the garden, but now here it was back on my nightstand along with two others.

I wouldn’t remove any of them until I had a chance to consider the consequences. I didn’t want my actions to be misconstrued as acceptance of this offering. Even worse, a trade or invitation.

I studied each key for a very long time, taking note of the shank, head and bittings as I looked for inscriptions or numbers, anything that would give me a hint of what they might unlock. One was a skeleton key with a long shank and ornate head. The fanciful scrollwork reminded me of the key I’d found in Rosehill Cemetery, right down to the tattered pink ribbon still threaded through the filigree bow. As a child, I’d imagined the treasure chest that key might open, but now I worried about the horrors that could be unlocked if I chose the wrong door.

Then I had another thought. Was the skeleton key somehow connected to Rose? Could this key be my salvation?

What if Rose had left it on that headstone all those years ago as a talisman against the ghosts? Rather than summoning the apparitions into my world, maybe it would have kept them locked out.

The head of the third key had been carved to resemble an eye. Four teeth pointed straight down from the shank like the prongs of a pitchfork. There was something distinctly menacing about that strange key. I found myself both repelled by and drawn to it.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” I whispered into the silent room. “What is it you want from me?”

As I gazed around my familiar surroundings, searching for answers to the unknowable, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the dresser mirror. The sight stopped me cold, the resemblance to Rose filling me with a terrible dread. Our destinies were inexorably linked. What I was now she had once been. What she was I would someday become.

Rising, I walked over to the mirror and leaned in to scrutinize my features—her features—focusing on those tiny motes at the bottom of my irises. Had Rose’s eyes possessed those same strange markings? As a child, had she ever fancied they were keyholes?

I glanced at the odd-shaped key lying on my nightstand and then back at my reflection. Suddenly, I had the disturbing notion that those pointed teeth matched exactly the dark lines beneath my pupils.





Twenty-Seven

I was just heading out of the house the next morning when Owen Dowling called. Still on edge from the night’s events, I answered cautiously when I saw the store name on the display.

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” he said. “You asked that I call you the next time my great-aunt came to the shop. She’s here now, as it happens. I told her about the stereoscope you found and she’s very eager to speak with you about it.”

“Did she recognize the names in the inscription?” I asked anxiously.

“I’ll let the two of you talk about that. Would it be possible for you to drop by the shop this morning?”

“What time?”

“The sooner the better as I don’t know how long she plans to be here.”

“I’ll come right now, then.”

“Wonderful! I’ll tell her to expect you. And, Miss Gray? Don’t forget to bring the stereoscope.”

Twenty minutes later, I found myself striding down King Street with my backpack thrown over one shoulder. It was not yet ten so most of the shops were still closed, but downtown already bustled with tourists. There were so many people out and about and the sun shone so brightly from a cloudless sky that I felt only mild trepidation as I turned down the alley toward Dowling Curiosities. Devlin’s investigation had unearthed nothing suspicious on either the shop or Owen, but even if he had discovered something untoward, I doubt I would have been thwarted. After what happened last evening, a human threat would almost be welcome.

The shop was locked so I tapped on the glass until Owen Dowling appeared at the window. Drawing open the door, he flashed a charming smile as he gave a slight bow. A courtly and old-fashioned greeting even by Devlin’s standards.

“Miss Gray! Thank you for coming on such short notice.” He moved back from the door and motioned for me to enter.

Stepping across the threshold, I was once again assailed by the medicinal aroma of camphor. The overhead lights had not yet been turned on and I could see dust motes dancing in the beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows. The effect was unexpectedly cheery given my mood and the bizarre nature of some of the collectibles.

“Thank you for calling me. I’m so happy your great-aunt agreed to meet with me. She’s still here, I hope.” I couldn’t see anyone else in the shop, but decided his aunt must be in the back.

“She is.” Owen nodded toward my backpack. “You brought the stereoscope?”