The Artisans (30 page)

After thirty minutes spent convincing my friends I wasn’t leaving the Maddox mansion, I watch them drive off. Maggie scoots across the passenger seat and lays her head on Dane’s shoulder. I can imagine his raised eyebrows, the hitch in his breath, the hope in his widening eyes, and I smile.

How one mind can hold so many thoughts, one heart so many emotions, I’ll never know. I tiptoe back into the house, wondering how much I can take before mine blows apart. As I head upstairs, I organize my goals for the day. I’m happy for Dane and Mags, but I’ll be happier for them later. Right now, I have to focus on my plan, and number one on that list is a bath followed by finding Jenny.

Hot water runs in the copper, claw-foot tub in my bathroom. I pour in a capful of lavender oil. The scent permeates the room as I lower myself into the frothy mix. I breathe deeply, already feeling more relaxed. My head rests against the rim of the tub. The water is chin deep. My muscles unknot under the effects of the heat, and I blow out a long breath.

A faint hiss answers. Something slick bumps my knee that I assume is a floating bar of soap. Another hiss and I crack one eye open. There, at the other end of the tub is a dark object. Black body, black and white striped belly, but the hood is unmistakable, a cobra. I tense, muscles petrify. A woman’s deep laugh reverberates against the white tile. Panic grips my brain, telling me to run. My skin tingles. I fight the impulse to splash the thing and get the hell out of here, but I’m frozen in place. Logic says I won’t be fast enough to avoid its deadly bite.

The snake rises, head bobbing, hood fully opened. I swallow my scream and will myself to hold still. Releasing a shaky breath through my nose, I pray for help.

A gurgle under my feet signals the water draining, though I did nothing to cause it. I stare at the snake, trying to decide if it’s real. The hard tub under my butt, the heat of the water, the intricate pattern of overlapping scales on the cobra’s body, all seem real enough.

Another swish against my leg has me doubting my bar of soap theory. I stifle a cry as the water recedes, and the culprit shows himself. A second snake emerges, this one a ball python. Dane had one for a while, so I recognize the ornate pattern on his skin. Not that the snake and I were close, mind you. Mostly, he scared the crap out of me. At least he’s not venomous, but the idea of his scales on my skin is loosening the sanity-screws in my head.

A tickle on my foot and the head of a smaller, lime-green snake appears. His head rests on my big toe and God help me, my limbs tremble. He might be a garden snake except for his arrow shaped head. I think that means he’s a viper. When the python sees the green snake, he rears up and lunges across my shins. The last of the tub water drains with a final slurp.

The viper’s fangs emerge as he bites into the python’s neck, but the larger snake is determined. He coils his body around his victim, muscles convulsing and undulating on my skin as he rolls. I bite the inside of my cheek until my mouth fills with blood. The rusty, iron taste slides down my throat. My eyes squeeze shut forcing salty tears down my face.

When I open my eyes, I blink, clearing my vision. More snakes slither up from the drain and over my feet. The cobra moves up the rim of the tub toward me. I glance at the python. His jaws unhinge, ready to feed on the smaller snake in his grasp. The viper’s eyes roll white; his struggle is in vain as the air is crushed from his lungs. As the python devours his prey, I feel his muscles convulsing in a repugnant steady rhythm, and I gag.

The cobra reaches my shoulder. His tongue slips out as he tests the air, tastes my scent. Sweat drips from my temple, down my jaw, smacking the skin on my breast. The cobra must be seven feet long. My hair parts as he forces his way through the damp strands. His body winds around my shoulders, my neck. I wait for a prick. Any second, his fangs will pierce my skin, injecting liquid death into my bloodstream, and then I think … is this happening?

The cockroaches weren’t real, though I felt the fear and pain. I
feel
the snakes, but what if I’m dreaming? If I move I’m dead, but I see no other way out. It’s worth the hope.

Wake up, Raven. Wake up
…

The snake slithers down my arm and across my stomach. All the muscles in my abdomen go rigid under the slick, moving scales of the animal. He turns to face me. His head stops between my breasts, though I’m not Cleopatra, and I’m not committing suicide. Am I? The cobra hisses. His pupils mere slivers inside deadly yellow eyes. Jaws lined with white fangs in a membranous, pink mouth gape. He rears back, darts forward.

Wake up. Wake up, Raven, now!

I jolt, sending a gallon of water over the edge of the tub. Steam rises from the skin on my arms. “Leave me the hell alone, Desiree!”

No laughter. No snakes, just the echo of my demand and me alone in my bathroom.

***

I hear Jenny in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around on the cook stove. “Good morning.”

She whirls to face me, saucepot in hand. “Lord bless me, child. You gave me such a start!”

“I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you. Can you sit with me a minute?”

“Now?” Her eyebrow twitches. “I’ve got breakfast to cook, and quite a lot of chores waiting.” Impatient, I toss my hair back. Still wet from this morning’s unfortunate bathtub drama, it sticks to my shoulders. “Saints preserve us, what happened to your neck, girl?”

Bingo. “Sit, Jenny. It’s time for some straight talk.”

Blue eyes grow as big as bubbles. She places her pot on the counter, picks up a dishcloth, and scurries to the nearest chair at the kitchen table. I sit across from her. Running a hand through my hair, I gather my thoughts. When I glance up, her round face is a mix of concern and fear. I’d give anything not to upset her, but I have no choice.

“Jenny, there are ghosts in this house.” When she opens her mouth, I raise my palm. “I don’t just hear them, Jenny, I
see
them. Cole Wynter, the man in uniform, a horse, a hound, Desiree, and others.” Jenny frowns, but I don’t stop. “Last night, Desiree attacked me. Did this …” I lift my chin and ease my damp hair away from my throat again. Jenny presses her lips together. “Please don’t lie or pretend this isn’t what it is. You have to tell me what you know. Everything. I’ve survived being pushed from a tree, near strangulation, and a bathtub full of … well, never mind.” My skin still moves as though snakes crawl on it. “I think Gideon’s in serious trouble, and I want to help him.”

Jenny twists the towel in her lap as though she means to punish the material. “Saints preserve us, child.”

“I found ledgers in the attic, and the Artisans’ diary. Last night. That’s when Desiree tried to strangle me.” Jenny’s sharp intake of air is all I allow before continuing. “In the diary, it explained that there is a magic camera, used to trap people in this house. For generations, the Maddox family has taken it upon themselves to punish people when they feel there is an injustice. Isn’t that true?”

A tear rolls down Jenny’s pink cheek. “You don’t understand.”

The wail in her voice tears at me, but I won’t back down. “I’m beginning to. It’s why no one was allowed in the attic. The only other place you didn’t want me is in the cellar. What’s he hiding down there?”

“I can’t. Promised, I did. Jamis, and me, our parents, and grandparents. We’ve worked, loyal to the Maddox family for years. He’s as dear to me as my own son.”

I grip her arm. “Then help him! It’s wrong, Jenny. You must feel that. Surely you don’t want him involved in this … nightmare. It’s indecent. Can you help me?” My eyes plead. I send up a silent request that she’s capable of seeing reason. “Tell me.”

Her shoulders slump. “Very well. It is as you say. The old camera is hexed. Long ago, an ancient magician made a deal with the first Mr. Maddox of this house. By taking their picture with this special camera, one traps their essence in the photos, all kept on the walls upstairs. Their bodies are stored, separated from their owners, so they are forced to live half-lives in another world.”

I shudder; amazed this nice old lady would agree to harbor such a horrific secret. “Have any been released?”

She shakes her head. “None that I know of.”

“Where are the bodies?” Really? In all my life, I never thought I would utter
that
sentence. Jenny’s gaze shifts to a door in the back of the kitchen. “Will you show me? Please.”

A long pause. “Yes.” She sniffs, dabbing her eyes with the dishtowel. “God help us, yes. I will help you.” She stands, withdrawing the ring of keys she keeps in her pocket. I follow her to the pantry.

For some reason, I think of pantries as dry, dusty places but this one is as neat as a pin. The tile floor gleams, reflecting sunlight from a small, lead glass window. It smells of flour, apples, and dried goods. Against the back wall, a line of stainless steel baker’s racks sits end-to-end on caster wheels. Jenny rolls out the center rack. A narrow door hides behind the rack stacked with canned vegetables. No one would ever guess the door’s location. I can’t help but wonder what lies beyond the slender opening, and if it means me harm.

Footsteps to our rear send my heartbeats skipping.

“Jennings? What is the meaning of this?” Jenny and I angle to face the staunch form of Jamis. His expression is a seething mass of disapproval. The old man’s eyes and mouth are mere slashes in his face. “Stop this immediately. Have you completely lost your senses?”

Jenny’s hands slam down on her hips, keys rattling against her apron. “Just come to them, I think, old friend. I can’t be a party to the secrets any longer. The girl knows. One of them hurt her last night, an innocent. It’s time to right the wrongs been done to them people. And for Gideon’s sake, too.”

“It is precisely
for
Mr. Maddox that we remember our place and honor our heritage, our employer’s wishes. I must insist you go no further.”

“Or what? You arrogant little beanpole of a man. Insist all you want to. Help or don’t, it’s all the same to me. I’m doing this!” She spins and places the key in the lock.

“Mr. Maddox shall hear of this immediately.” His voice shakes with anger. He storms from the pantry, I assume to fulfill his role as tattletale supreme.

The housekeeper’s hands tremble as she twists the key. Despite her bold words, it’s clear she’s scared witless. She’s not alone.

Hinges creak as Jenny swings the door open. There’s a light switch on the wall and Jenny flips it on. “We don’t go down here,” she says. “No one does.”

As this was my big idea, I go first. The steps are as narrow as the doorway, and covered in fine, white dust. I descend into dank air at least ten degrees cooler. My muscles tense, ready for whatever might be lurking nearby. A dusty, concrete floor waits below. There’s a faint smell wafting up the stairs, a mix of chalk and ammonia.

The steps behind me groan under Jenny’s weight. She breathes like a freight train, but I’m thankful for her presence. It’s Spooky 101 down here. Since I’ve been living in one, I vow to never watch another horror movie as long as I live.

Dim light from the bulb at the top of the stairs trickles into the cellar. Like the attic, there is a lot of old junk stored in the corners. An eerie feeling of
déjà vu
washes over me. I shiver as the tiny hairs on my body stand on end. The deeper into the cellar I go, the colder the air.

“I can’t go any further,” Jenny whispers. Though her voice is low, it echoes around the room. “Forgive me, child. I’ll wait by the stairs, but I simply can’t … look.”

“It’s okay. I won’t be long,” I say, hoping it’s true.

“There,” she points to the wide arch on the far side of the room. “Through there.”

As I shuffle forward, my feet are as heavy as fifty-pound weights in mud. My lungs squeeze the air from my chest, and my palms sweat. I second-guess the state of my mental faculties, because a person has to be crazy to go peek inside the forbidden room. I’m not even sure what I’m hoping to accomplish. Somehow, I believe the rest of the puzzle is in this cellar. Adrenaline zings under my skin as I pass under the arch and onto a dirt floor.

I stop; hold my breath. I’ve been here before. In a dream, or through Desiree’s eyes, I don’t know. The caskets are placed as they were then. Stacked on top of one another, there must be two dozen wooden coffins. With a tremor in my step, I inch closer. Waiting, fearing some unseen force will consume me, and my fingers will shred open the first box.

God, you’ve got to help me out here.

I need a crowbar to pry the coffin lids up, like the one Dane used to get the door open upstairs. Glancing around, there’s little in this room besides the hideous caskets, but then I see a hammer resting on the end of one box. I grab the handle. Leaning over, I hook the claw end under the lip of the first lid. My bladder gets funny when I’m nervous, and I wish I had peed before coming down here.

“Raven?”

I jerk upright. “Crap!” Jenny’s voice calling from the other room nearly takes care of my need to pee. “I’m okay, just give me another minute.”