The Girl and The Raven (16 page)

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He looks me in the eyes as if trying to decide if I’m telling the truth, which is more than a bit irritating. Who’s the witch-slash-demon here? I think I can take care of myself. I shrug his hands off my shoulders. He doesn’t budge, just pulls me closer and lowers his head so we won’t be overheard. With the nightmare still fresh in my mind, I study Marcus. He’s not trembling or bleeding. He’s not arching his back. His face is etched with concern, not grimacing in pain. He seems okay.
It was just a dream.
I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What are your super senses picking up?” I ask.

“It’s the same intruder. Did you see him?

“Gray hair, down to his shoulders. Maybe a little longer. He was tall. Big. Almost like a giant.” I pull my hair over my shoulder and twist it with trembling fingers.

I look past Marcus. Persephone is talking forcefully to Bernard. Her black, wiry curls bounce and her hands gesture wildly. Bernard looks at me with alarm. Aiden seems to be having a similar conversation with Sheldon, although he’s much more controlled.

“What are they saying?” I whisper to Marcus.

“That there’s been a string of petty thefts in the area. And that this…” he nods toward the mangled screen, “mimics the other crime scenes.”

“But my uncles read the paper. They’ll know it’s a lie.”

“The power of suggestion, especially from Aiden and Persephone, is pretty effective.”

“This is all my fault.”

“Lucy…”

“It is. Some freak keeps breaking into my uncles’ house. It’s one thing that he’s coming after me. I can take care of myself.” Marcus narrows his eyes at me. “I
can
you know. And I’ve got you, Persephone and…Aiden watching out for me.”

“Trust us…”

I glare at him. “Look how freaked out my uncles are. What if the intruder comes back and winds up hurting them?”

I frown and turn to my closet.

“What is it?” Marcus reaches for my arm, but I shrug him off.

“He was in here,” I murmur.
What’s he looking for?
It’s not like I own anything valuable. I open the door wide and look inside. Clothes, shoes and… The box of Momma’s old letters and cards is lying on the floor, the contents spilling out. I opened it after the first break-in to get my knife. I kneel down and start putting the cards back in. It’s impossible to tell if anything’s missing without sorting it all out. I look up at Marcus. “I think he wants this. But I don’t know why.” 

Over his shoulder I see Sheldon watching us. I slide the box farther back into the closet.

Fifteen minutes later, I follow my uncles as they escort our neighbors to the door.

“That was nice of Persephone and Aiden to check in with us,” Sheldon says, as soon as everyone’s gone. “I can’t believe she had a security system installed without telling us. If we’d known about the break-ins, we would’ve handled it.”

“I had no idea Aiden was a member of the neighborhood watch,” Bernard adds, scratching his head. “Did you?”

Sheldon and I both shake our heads.

I have to say, Persephone’s power of suggestion is pretty impressive.

I hide a fake yawn. “I’m kind of tired. I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

We retreat to our bedrooms. As soon as I hear their bedroom door close, I shut my own and rush over to the window. Sure enough, Marcus is there. I push open the side of the screen that isn’t mangled so he can climb inside.

“I can’t believe he got around the alarm system. Delayed it somehow.” Marcus grumbles as he takes hold of my hand. “Are you okay?”

“What about you, Persephone and Aiden showing up like that? And what kind of mojo did Persephone work on them anyway? It’s like they’re in a trance.”

Marcus waves me off. “They’ll be fine tomorrow. Just keep them out of your bedroom. I’ll take care of getting a new screen for your window.”

“It was scary, Marcus.” I shudder. “The guy was
huge
. He probably would’ve crushed me or something. Good thing the alarm scared him off.”

“We need to figure out what he’s after.”

We sit on my bed, the box of Momma’s letters between us. She kept them in her top dresser drawer for years, so I knew they were important to her. After she died, I couldn’t bear to leave them behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them, either.

“A lot of these have never been opened. Oh…” He turns one of the letters over for me to read. It’s addressed to Jude Morgan.

“Here’s another one.” He hands me a second envelope, again addressed to Jude. “And another…”

There are twenty-three letters addressed to Jude. Based on the postmarks, they were sent over a twelve month period sixteen years ago. Each letter bears a bold red postal stamp across its face. Return To Sender.

“I know you don’t want to read them, but we need to. If the gray-haired man wants them so bad he broke into the house twice to get them, they must be important,” Marcus says. 

He’s right and I know it. The problem is I’m not sure if I can handle reading about Momma’s love affair with Jude. Clearly things didn’t end well. I jump off the bed and pace the center of my room. I gulp several times, trying to get some air. Why can’t I breathe?

“Lucy?”

I ignore him. It’s bad enough for me to read the letters, but Marcus? What if they’re not about their romance? What if they’re Momma’s pleas for help?

I rub my arms briskly, struck with a sudden chill.

What if the gray-haired man was the one who threw me from the roof? What if he plans another attempt on my life? If so, who cares what’s in the stupid letters?

Marcus grabs my sweatshirt from the back of my desk chair and wraps it around me.

I meet his gaze. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

“Grab the box and we’ll go up to Persephone’s.”

I take a step backward. “Why?”

“She and Henry are trying to figure out why this demon keeps coming after you,” he says gently. “She should know what’s in these letters. And she might catch something we’d miss.”

I pull away from him and sit down on my bed. What right does he have to dictate everything? The letters are none of Persephone’s business. And what if I break down while reading them? I glare at the opposite wall, my arms crossed over my chest.

He sits down next to me, his arm curling around my shoulders. “Please.”

Five minutes later, we’re sitting in Persephone’s living room. We each take a handful of letters from the box. I feel like a traitor letting other people read them. Momma would be furious that I’m not protecting her secrets.
I’m sorry, Momma
.

I force myself to tear open the first letter in my stack. A tingle walks down my spine as I read the first sentence. I scan the letter quickly, looking for something horrible, something that would scare me into not reading any more. One line catches my attention.
I realize that bringing up the whole “meeting the family” subject was a bad idea. I won’t mention it again.
I read the letter a second time, this time slowly. Nothing horrible.

I tear open another letter. With baited breath, my eyes scan the page quickly. One sentence jumps out at me.
I can’t believe you’re so excited about my pregnancy.

Jude was excited about me? My insides swell a little. Then I recall the wound on Marcus’ arm. The gash is nearly gone, thanks to Marcus’ amazing healing abilities, but I saw it. The visual is forever burned in my mind.

I open another letter, less worried about what I might find. I glance over at Marcus and Persephone, each of them reading a letter, their eyes scanning the page intently. I return my attention to the sheet of paper on my lap. My insides turn to lead and my throat burns. I can’t tear my eyes away from the words.

Jude,

It’s been months since I’ve heard from you. Where did you go? I don’t understand why the Post Office is returning my letters. I’ve gone to your office and you’re never there. I tried to wait for you, but your receptionist threatened to have security escort me out.

You told me you loved me, that you wanted to be with me. Was that a lie?

Lucy is a week old. I can’t stand to look at her, because she already looks like you. You wanted a baby. What am I supposed to do with her now that you’re gone?

Please, please, please…call me.

- Donna

I stare numbly at the letter.
I can’t stand to look at her.

“Hold the phone,” Persephone announces, her index finger raised. “I’ve got something here.”

I don’t care what she’s got. I no longer care about the letters. I want to go downstairs to my room and go to bed.

Persephone shakes a letter under my nose. “Read this.” I take it from her, unnerved by her intensity. Marcus leans in beside me on the couch and reads over my shoulder.

Jude,

You sick bastard! Was it all a lie? Your supposed love for me? Your fear of being alone, unloved and having no one to love?

My mother and I had a long talk about you. Yes, I told her about you. Finally! It all makes sense to me now. Your secrecy, which I found so mysterious and sexy in the beginning.

I now know everything. EVERYTHING! And by the time you get this letter, I’ll be long gone. Me and your PRECIOUS daughter. Guess what? You will never lay eyes on her. She will never know you and never love you. I will never speak your name to her. Better yet, maybe I’ll tell her how hideously evil and sick you are. Then she’ll have nothing but hate in her heart for you.

How does it feel, Jude, all your planning wasted? Oh, and don’t bother trying to find us. We’ll have disappeared into the wind by the time you get this letter.

I hope you rot in hell. Oh, silly me, you thrive there.

- Donna

I read the letter twice, rocked by the intensity of Momma’s hatred.

“She calls him evil and sick. If she found out he’s a demon, that accounts for the evil, but not the sick part.” He must’ve done something horrible besides leaving her.

I can’t read any more. I hand the letters to Marcus, who takes them without saying a word. I pull the turtle green afghan from the back of Persephone’s couch and snuggle into it, pulling my knees up to my chest.
Momma didn’t want me. She never loved me.

There are other letters and cards in the box, mostly from Gram. My throat catches when I see Momma also kept the letters I sent during my summers here.

“I’ve got something,” Marcus announces. “I know why your mom spilled the beans to your grandmother about Jude.”

He hands it to me. I take it reluctantly.

Dear Ms. Walker,

I thank you for taking the time to meet with me last week. I apologize for contacting you out of the blue. However, I felt it important you understand the kind of man you are dealing with in Jude Morgan. He is one who devises elaborate schemes and manipulates people to achieve his evil deeds. I am sorry you were yet another pawn in his latest enterprise.

I do hope you have spoken with your mother about him. As I stated during our meeting, she will elaborate on the ways of Jude Morgan and all he is capable of. I do not mean to paint a picture of myself that is untrue. I am not above reproach, as your mother will confirm. What I will say is that while Mr. Morgan’s intentions are rooted in selfishness and darkness, I can attest that mine were and still are of an altruistic nature.

Respectfully yours,

Seamus McAllister

I set the letter on my lap. “Who is Seamus McAllister?”

“Tell me again everything you remember about the intruder,” Persephone says, rising from her chair.

So I tell her again. “Oh!” I squeeze my eyes shut. Something is pulling at me and I can’t remember. He ran to the window and threw his arms forward before lunging out the window. “His arm. He had a weird birthmark—like a red ink splotch the size of a tennis ball—on his right forearm.”

Persephone’s eyes close and she shakes her head. “How can this be?”

Marcus and I glance at each other curiously. “What?” I ask.

“He was a…friend…of your grandmother’s,” she says, opening her eyes.

“Like a boyfriend?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “Seriously, Persephone, I’m not five years old.”

Marcus covers his mouth, but his chuckle breaks through. I reach over and smack his leg.

“Very well,” Persephone rearranges the letters on her lap. “They were
close
.” Her face is pinched. “They were together a couple of years, but then your gram ended things. Pretty abruptly, but I don’t know why. I can tell you this. Seamus didn’t take it well. Things turned ugly.”