Carolyn screamed.
“What is it?” Douglas shouted, standing.
“Outside, on the terrace,” Carolyn gasped.
He bolted out the French doors, looked around, then came back inside.
“There’s nobody there,” he reported. “What did you think you saw?”
“I…I don’t know,” she said.
Howard Young stood. “You’re just jittery from the night in that room. It’s understandable. You just need to rest.”
He hobbled out of the room.
Paula reached over and covered Carolyn’s hand with her own. “What was it, Carolyn?”
“Perhaps…just my imagination,” she said. “It has to be my imagination.”
Paula looked from her to Douglas. “Is it really over? Or is there still more?”
“It’s got to be over,” Douglas said.
“Yes,” Carolyn echoed. “It’s got to be over.”
But she knew now it was not.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Philip had had enough. He was getting out of the house. Will or no will, family fortune or not, he had taken all he could from Uncle Howard.
Throwing his clothes into a suitcase, he was planning to walk downstairs and tell the old man that he was heading home. “Go ahead and disinherit me,” Philip grumbled, slamming the suitcase shut. “But I will no longer be treated like an errant schoolboy.”
The embarrassment of last night still rankled. To be treated like a common criminal by his low-class relations. He couldn’t get over the contempt he’d seen in Paula’s eyes. “The goddamn dyke,” he spit. “How dare she look at me that way?”
From the shouts of joy he’d heard from downstairs a short while ago, Philip surmised that Douglas had survived the night in that room. Perhaps the curse was finally over. Perhaps Uncle Howard would be in a forgiving mood. But no matter how he might find his uncle, Philip was tired of waiting in his room like a child being punished. He would not tolerate being treated this way.
He hadn’t slept a wink, of course. He had consoled Chelsea and Ryan, who shared their father’s humiliation. He told them they’d find some way to stay in the will. He wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but it was the only way to shut them up and get them to go to bed. He thought about tapping on their doors to tell them he was leaving, but decided against it. He couldn’t take any more histrionics. They could fend for themselves.
He glanced around the room one more time to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. Satisfied, he clutched his suitcase with one hand and opened the door of his room with the other.
And he let out a small sound of surprise when he saw a man was standing in the doorframe, blocking his way.
A servant, he thought at first, before remembering that Uncle Howard had given the servants the day off, not knowing what would be found in that room this morning.
“Excuse me,” Philip said loudly, officiously.
The man did not move.
He was a tall man, with dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in a black jacket, black T-shirt, and dirty dungarees. A scar ran down the left side of his face.
“I said, excuse me!” Philip boomed.
The man’s eyes seemed wild. He simply raised one large hand and placed it on Philip’s chest, shoving him back into the room.
“How dare you?” Philip bellowed.
The man stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
Icy terror suddenly began pulsing through Philip’s veins.
“Who are you?” Philip asked. “You’re something from that room… You’re not human!”
The man just glared at him, his eyes glassy.
“Kill him,” came a small voice from somewhere above.
The man reached inside his jacket and withdrew a long, wide, sharp knife.
“No!” Philip screamed, backing away. “Help me! Somebody help me!”
The man just grinned. He held the knife out in front of him.
Philip ran to the other side of the room. He heard the rush of air made by the swinging blade. He felt the slice of the knife without seeing it. A sharp stab of pain in his upper left arm. He spun around, mesmerized by the sight of the bright red blood staining his crisp white shirt.
The man moved in closer.
Philip lifted his eyes as he saw the knife glinting in the light.
“No!” he cried.
He felt the sting of the blade cut into his neck. His lips were still moving as his head separated from his body, sliced off by one skillful swing of the knife. For several terrible seconds-an eternity really-Philip was still conscious, aware that he was flying through the air, then watching from the floor as his body staggered forward and fell down hard on its chest. He saw the muddy boots of the man who had beheaded him walk past, and he heard the door open and close. Then his brain shut down from lack of oxygen, and everything faded to black.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Paula couldn’t believe her eyes. When the doorbell rang and she opened the door, she had never in a million years expected to see who was standing there. Now she stood, blinking, unable to speak.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Karen asked, her smile practically blinding in its brilliance.
Paula just stepped aside, too stunned to say anything.
“I’ve missed you terribly,” Karen said, coming inside the house. “I knew how important this family reunion was to you, and so I wanted to be here. I want to finally meet your extended family.” She took Paula’s hands and looked her decisively in the eye. “Because nothing is worth losing you, Paula. Nothing.”
A week ago-even a day ago-Paula might have struggled with such words. Of course she had missed Karen terribly, too. But it had been better-safer-to have her far away from the family curse and the forces that oppressed them. Now, however, with the danger having been averted, Paula could simply rejoice. Finally she was able to break through her shock and throw her arms around Karen. She kissed her over and over.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said. “Oh, baby, everything has changed. Everything!”
Karen smiled. “What do you mean? How has everything changed?”
Paula beamed. “We can have a baby!”
Karen’s jaw dropped. “What-how-what is different? What has made you change your mind?”
“So many things,” Paula said, stroking her beloved’s hair.
“Karen!”
They turned. It was Linda, followed by Dean and the children. Happy laughter ensued, with Zac and Callie running into their Aunt Karen’s arms.
“We’re so happy to see you,” Dean said.
“Especially now,” Linda added, “when we can finally live free and clear!”
Karen was smiling, but her pretty brown eyes danced with confusion. “What’s happened?” she asked. “You seem to be in the midst of a celebration.”
“We are,” Paula said. “Come meet Uncle Howard. And after that, sweetheart, I have quite the story to tell you.”
She looked up and noticed Carolyn and Douglas coming down the marble steps.
“Carolyn! Douglas!” Paula called. “I’d like you to meet my partner Karen.”
Carolyn smiled, approaching with her hand extended. Paula watched her, and observed Douglas a few feet behind her on the stairs. But then, almost as if in slow motion, she noticed something else: a dark figure suddenly rounding the stairs. In a blur, the figure leapt upon Douglas, taking him down. It all happened so fast, Paula didn’t even have time to scream.
But Karen did. Linda did, too, grabbing her children and running with them into the parlor. Dean, meanwhile, instinctively sprinted to his cousin’s aid.
The creature on Douglas’s back was a man. He was dressed in dark clothes. Paula finally found her voice to scream when he raised a knife, an enormous shiny silver blade, and held it aloft over Douglas’s back.
Carolyn, too, had leapt forward, landing on the man at nearly the same time as Dean. The three of them struggled. Karen kept screaming, clinging to Paula. Their happy mood had changed to terror in a matter of seconds.