Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1) (8 page)

Something wet nuzzled against my ear. I turned
toward it and saw Max’s enormous black nose. I grinned, scratching
his chin. He proceeded to sniff me, head to toe. “Okay, enough
Max!” I giggled when he licked my feet.

Today was my birthday and I was in paradise.
This
, I knew, was real. A huge smile stretched across my
face.

The clock on the nightstand read ten–thirty.
I slept in!
I bolted out of bed and ran for the shower.
After all, Sofie had brought me to New York to work off my ten
thousand dollar debt to her and here I was, lazing
around.

As I stood in the giant tiled shower stall,
allowing the numerous jets to drench my body in warmth, my thoughts
wandered back to my dream. Oddly enough, I could recall every
moment with complete clarity—the forest … the laughter … rescuing
Amelie … Caden … Jethro’s head in the fire. I shuddered with that
last memory, swiftly replacing it with much more pleasant
thoughts—those few brief moments of closeness with Caden.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I immediately felt ridiculous.
It’s not like he exists, you moron.
It wouldn’t matter if
he did. He had Rachel. Beautiful, seductive, confident Rachel. I
groaned, leaning my forehead against the iridescent cream tile.
Even my subconscious is against me.

A short time later I entered the kitchen to
find Sofie sitting gracefully on a stool in the kitchen, magazine
in hand. As usual, she looked impeccable in a pair of skinny blue
jeans and a patterned black and white shirt. In my new stylish gray
jeans and loose–fitting pink sweater, I didn’t feel completely
inadequate next to her. Only marginally.

“
I’m so sorry!” I blurted. “I never
sleep in—it must have been that comfy bed.”

Sofie looked up, relief flashing across her
face. “That’s quite alright.” Her eyes darted to Max.

“
He’s way smarter than I gave him
credit for.”

Max glared at me in response, as if
understanding.

“
Good dog,” I murmured, scratching
his chin.

Seemingly mollified, he ambled over to a
bearskin rug by the stone hearth and hunkered down with his
brothers.

“
She’s awake! Finally,” Mortimer
grumbled as he entered the kitchen dressed in a charcoal suit, a
folded newspaper under one arm. If he’d seemed a little annoyed
yesterday, today he was downright irritable.
Maybe he’s not a
morning person.

I dropped my head in shame and was about to
apologize again when Viggo walked in, instantly lifting the dark
cloud that Mortimer had brought. “Happy birthday! What are you
craving this morning, my darling—waffles; pancakes; steak and eggs?
It’s been an eternity since I’ve cooked for someone,” Viggo
offered, snatching up a cast iron pan and flipping it effortlessly
around in the air.

I glanced at Mortimer, wondering if he wasn’t
“someone
.
”

“
Oh, he doesn’t like my cooking.
Says it’s too bland,” Viggo explained, giving Mortimer a secretive
wink. Mortimer rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“
Coffee would be great, but only if
you have a pot made already,” I said.

“
But of course, mademoiselle!
Anything for you. Leonardo?” Viggo snapped his fingers. The gentle
old man suddenly appeared, shuffling over to an elaborate machine
on the counter.

“
And I’ll have whatever you’re
having,” I added. “No needed to go to any extra
trouble.”

“
Oh, we’ve already eaten,” Viggo
said, flashing a pearly white smile. “Speaking of which,” he yanked
the newspaper out of Mortimer’s grasp, “Sofie, did you see that
article on the quadruple homicide in this morning’s newspaper?
Japanese mob. They likely deserved it; however … a little
excessive, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiled knowingly at her.
He
must be a lawyer. Bizarre segue, though. Why would
he—

“
Besides,” Mortimer interjected,
throwing his partner a look of unimpressed shock, “Viggo wouldn’t
be cooking. The pan is for theatrical effect. He’s a complete
buffoon in the kitchen. He almost burnt it down once and has since
been banished.”

“
Sadly, that is true,” Viggo
admitted, pouting.

I giggled, looking around the state–of–the–art
kitchen. Surely it had to be any chef’s dream, with its
industrial–sized stainless steel appliances and stone
countertops.

“
Here you are, dear,” Leonardo said,
gently placing a mug of hot coffee in front of me. “And while
you’re deciding on breakfast—” His other hand magically produced a
double–helping slice of chocolate cake, slathered with chocolate
icing and colorful sprinkles.

Nostalgia slapped me across the face, pulling
me back to my childhood. My mother used to serve me the same
breakfast on my birthdays, sprinkles and all. It had been one of
many traditions that died with her.

Until now.

“
I guessed at the flavor. And the
sprinkles,” Leonardo quickly admitted. “That’s what you kids are
eating these days, right?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“
Lucky guess,” Mortimer said, fixing
Sofie with an unreadable stare.

Sofie sipped her tea, the corners of her mouth
turned up in a devious smile.

“
How are you feeling, Evangeline?
Did you sleep well?” Viggo asked.

I faltered, instinctively touching the sizeable
bump near my temple. “Yes I did. Thanks.”

“
That wasn’t a convincing response.
We can provide you with a different room or bed if you’d like,”
Viggo offered, concerned.

“
Oh no, the room and the bed are
perfect! It’s … well, it’s silly. I had a dream. More a
nightmare.”

Mortimer stiffened in his seat. “What about?”
His gruff voice was suddenly two octaves higher than
usual.

“
It was nothing, really. I was in
the woods and there was a drowning. An attempted
drowning.”

“
Details, please. I’m somewhat of a
dream interpreter,” Viggo said. He leaned against the counter,
resting his strong, square jaw in the palm of his hand. “From the
beginning—don’t leave anything out. You never know what’s
important.”

“
Alright, I guess,” I agreed,
suddenly self–conscious as the three of them stared intently at me.
Even Max perked his ears. I began describing the forest and the
river and quickly found myself pulled back into the stark reality
of the night. They interrupted frequently with
questions.

“
You saw that same statue in your
dream?” Sofie asked.

I nodded.

“
And this … Jethro—he could hear
your heartbeat?” she continued.

“
Only when it was pounding, I
think.”

“
That silver rope—that sounds
horrendous!” Viggo said when I described the flimsy cord that had
somehow effectively bound Amelie.

“
Describe these people again,”
Mortimer instructed, his expression grim.

I described the group a second time, careful
not to emphasize my pathetic infatuation with Caden, though I’d
have been curious to hear Viggo’s interpretation of that
part.

“
And you’re sure no one … hurt you
in any way?” Mortimer probed.

I shook my head, and remembered the pendant.
“Caden said this necklace saved my life somehow. I don’t know … it
was bizarre.”

Viggo eyed the pendant. “Did it do anything
strange?”

“
Yes! It shimmered in a
reddish–orange color. Like a sunset. And it was hot. Does that mean
anything?”

“
It means you had quite the dream.
And you remember it with such clarity, you’d think it was real,”
Mortimer answered, smirking. “How is that bump?” He reached over,
his hand roughly stroking the side of my head. I flinched.
“Ah—that’s a nasty welt. But you should be all right. We’ll get you
a helmet to sleep in.”

He turned away. “Sofie, you and I have some
business to attend to. Max, why don’t you take Evangeline out to
the atrium?” Mortimer’s voice had turned unnaturally light and
airy, as if he were hiding something.

“
Of course, Mortimer,” Sofie said,
responding with a sweet smile. Their eyes exchanged a silent
message.

“
D
o you know
what Sofie needs me to do, Max?” I asked the giant beast as we
strolled along a path in the atrium, my arm hanging over his back.
“No, of course you don’t. I don’t either, but so far, this trip has
been one giant fairy tale.” I stooped to pick a sprig of lavender
and inhaled deeply, relishing its comforting fragrance. “It’s got
to end sometime soon, I suppose. I’m going to miss you, though,
Max.” I played with one of his cropped ears. He groaned in
response, giving me a quick lick on the cheek.
Such a deceiving
appearance for a big suck.

We stopped in front of the white woman. I gazed
up at the statue’s face, her expression a mixture of tranquility
and anticipation. “Exactly how I feel right now,” I mumbled to her,
sighing.

Evangeline,
someone whispered
faintly.

I turned to look for the source. I couldn’t see
anyone. “Did you hear that?” I asked Max, frowning. He began
tapping his front paws against the stone, clearly excited. “What
are you so happy about?” I asked, confusion deepening my
frown.

Evangeline
.

“
There!” My head whipped around,
eyes searching. “Did you hear—”

A loud crash preceded angry shouts.

“
One hundred and twenty years, you
unreliable witch! You seem to forget. How much longer?” Mortimer’s
voice boomed.

“
I’ve told you what I know!” Sofie
shrieked in response.

Silence.

And then I heard doors creak open to my left.
“Evangeline? Could you be a doll and come here, please, for a
moment?” Viggo’s voice called.

“
Coming!” I scurried toward his
voice, playing the short exchange between Mortimer and Sofie over
in my head.
I wonder what that was about?
And why
would he call her a witch?
He was brusque, but he seemed too
sophisticated to resort to petty name–calling.

I found Viggo holding open a French door,
smiling. “Come, join us in the library.”

Nodding politely, I stepped inside. Sofie and
Mortimer sat on opposite ends of a cocoa–hued tucked–leather couch,
talking casually, as if they hadn’t just been screaming obscenities
at each other a moment ago.

The library was dim, but lamps of various sizes
and heights scattered throughout the room gave it a cozy
atmosphere. A giant ebony grand piano filled one corner while a
full wall of mahogany bookshelves filled another, reaching all the
way up to the soaring two–storey ceiling. In between was a
fireplace with a large oil painting above it.

“
Hard to avoid, isn’t she?” Viggo
asked, walking over to admire the piece.

I followed him. It was a portrait of a young
woman with plump auburn curls tumbling midway down her back and
framing a heart–shaped face in which olive green eyes twinkled. Her
smile for the painter was mysterious, and revealed sizeable dimples
that reminded me of Sofie.

“
This was Sofie’s sister,
Veronique.”

Was
Sofie’s sister. Past tense. I
hazarded a glance at Sofie, only to see her staring at the portrait
of her sister with admiration.

“
She was a real beauty, Veronique
was,” Mortimer said, adding, “It’s funny, how different two sisters
can be from each other.”

Sofie’s lips pursed.

“
When was this painting done?” I
asked, gazing at the woman’s vintage–looking sapphire–blue dress
that nearly exposed her breasts. They were accentuated nicely with
a black heart–shaped pendant identical to mine. Instinctively, I
reached up to touch the one around my neck.

“
So what do you have planned for
today, ladies?” Viggo asked abruptly.

My eyes darted to Sofie; I was wondering the
same thing. Her jaw tightened.

Before anyone answered, Viggo spoke again.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like fun! Why don’t you two go out and do
some shopping?”

“
Unfortunately I have several
errands I have to run,” Sofie answered briskly.

Viggo ignored her, pulling a cherry red purse
from a drawer and tossing it to me. “Just a gift from us. Prada.
Not available in stores yet. I believe some women have clawed eyes
out for one of those.”

“
Thanks. You’ve already given me too
much,” I stammered, looking down at the bag. It was fat and heavy.
Full of something
. I glanced questioningly at Sofie, only
to see her glaring at Viggo, her eyes narrowed
suspiciously.

“
Open it!” Viggo ordered, winking. I
hesitated. “Go on!”

I pulled the zipper. Like a Jack in a Box, out
popped money—bundles of bills with multiple zeros on their faces.
My legs buckled. I grabbed the back of a chair for support before I
keeled over.

“
Are you feeling alright?” Viggo was
by my side in seconds, his hand on my shoulder.