“In the basement, I expect,” Eric said and gave another barking laugh. “What is it about basements that encourages play? Let’s go and find her.”
Marley heard another door open and looked sideways, her eyes still downcast. Inside a room, like a cupboard, she saw string-tied brown packages piled on the bottom of a stack of shelves.
“Come on,” Eric said. “I’ll help you, Marley.”
The last time she heard him talk in this room, she had been in Liza’s mind. This must be the madman who had terrorized New Orleans.
Chapter 46
Pillars had been removed from the facade and balconies. This had started as a stuccoed dollhouse, not a piece of chinoiserie.
Gray worked with the little chisel he’d found on Marley’s bench. The lacquer peeled quite easily, but took some of the underlying coat of paint with it.
There had been writing on the wall in the center of the front wall, where the door must once have been. He had taken most of it off with the lacquer.
A magnifying glass hung on a hook and he used it to peer at what was left of black, fanciful words. There wasn’t enough. All he made out was “Eau,” which meant nothing.
He turned the piece around, but stopped when the house started to shift off its base. Carefully, he tilted it sideways and revealed what was covered by the mound of lawns that sloped up on all four sides.
A web of pipes opened to show how a basement—not really a basement but the lowest floor hidden with earth and grass—was reached by a staircase. In a corner, another compartment puzzled him, until he saw little dolls wrapped like mummies and hanging from hooks.
Marley had talked about a cold room with hooks.
That’s where she said Liza and Amber had appeared to her.
His belly felt rigid and he stiffened, willing himself to stay calm. Righted again, a panel at the back of the house had obviously been pried open, then put back. Gray opened it again and followed the floors up with the tips of his fingers.
The lower room was accessed from the kitchen, from a pantry off the kitchen. And to reach the kitchen you would walk behind a curved staircase and along a corridor.
A curved staircase, one of two rising up through a circular white entry hall.
He dropped the chisel. Marley’s voice was distant but clear. He squeezed his eyelids together and concentrated. “I’m here,” he said aloud. “Marley, where are you?”
Nothing.
Then, with concentrated inner will, he saw her face and the shadows of people moving around her. “Marley,” he whispered. Why couldn’t he talk to her with his mind as he had before?
He hammered the bench with both fists. He couldn’t because he wasn’t practiced enough, but they were Bonded. They were one. He must be able to go to her.
Of course he had seen this house before, a real one just like it—minus red lacquer.
“Eau,” he said. “Water. L’Eau.”
Knocking a picture frame over as he went, he dashed from the workroom, but was cautious going down the stairs. He didn’t have time or inclination to explain where his thoughts were going and if these Millets were all so talented, they should already be on their way to finding one of their own in trouble.
The shop was empty. He looked back, expecting to see Winnie, but she hadn’t followed him. She would be safe where she was.
He caught sight of Willow through the back windows. She was hauling a box to the garbage.
The shop door wasn’t locked. He opened it and stepped onto the sidewalk—and walked into Pascal’s trainer, Anthony, who carried loaves of French bread under one arm and a bunch of cut flowers in the other hand.
“Who died?” Anthony said.
Gray figured he looked desperate. “Nobody. Yet. I’m looking for Marley.”
“She left,” Anthony said, pushing open the shop door.
Gray gripped the man’s brawny arm and Anthony’s expression immediately mirrored Gray’s concern.
“Did you see which way she went?”
“Sure.” Anthony came back from the door. “She left with a woman I don’t know. In a black BMW.”
“I gotta get a cab.”
“Want my car?” Anthony asked, wrestling to pull keys from his pocket. “The green MGB back there. I was just dropping these off, but I don’t need the car.”
Gray hesitated, but only briefly. He took the keys. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, buddy.”
The top of the MG was down and Gray vaulted into the driver’s seat.
Sidney Fournier had left in her BMW—and Marley had gone with them. When he opened that dollhouse and recognized it for what it was, that’s when he had heard Marley trying to reach him.
Bord De L’Eau, the Fourniers’ home. He had never felt anything as strongly as he did the presence of Marley. She was there and she was calling for him.
Chapter 47
Eric’s grip on Marley’s arm was not gentle. His fingers dug at her and he pulled her to her feet. “I’m tired of pretending,” he said. “We’ve got things to do.”
With Sidney, Pipes went ahead and down the steps Marley had expected to find in the pantry. Eric hurried after them and memories made Marley sick to her stomach. Her heart thudded.
To be in this place, with him, disgusted her.
Pipes had started to cry. She drew back against a wall and covered her face.
“Don’t cry, honey,” Eric said. He went to her and pulled her unresponsive body into his arms. He tilted up her face and kissed her, long and deep, then released her, laughing bitterly when she slipped down to sit on the floor and sob quietly.
“What’s wrong?” Marley asked. She started toward Pipes but Sidney yanked her back.
“Nothing you’re not going to solve,” Eric said. “Now move it—we’ve already taken too long.”
“Make sure we do everything the way we’re supposed to,” Sidney said. She didn’t sound confident anymore.
“I don’t need your input,” Eric told his sister. “We go through the locker.”
Pipes cried aloud.
“Stay with me,” Eric told her. “You’re safe with me.”
“Hah,” Sidney said.
“If you weren’t a jealous bitch we wouldn’t be going through this,” Eric said. “You had to meddle with humans. You had to want what they chase after. You wanted to be famous. Look what you’ve done.”
Sidney glared at him.
“Aren’t you human?” Marley said. It sounded like a bizarre question.
Eric smirked at her. “Not quite the way you mean.”
“I’m human,” Sidney yelled. “I want to be human. And I’ve got the best voice in this town. I’m not just a blonde bimbo. If I was like her,” she pointed at Pipes, “that journalist would have come to me first. You slept with him, didn’t you?” she shouted at Pipes.
“N-no,” Pipes mumbled.
“I’m the best,” Sidney stormed. “But I was overlooked because I’m not flashy. Liza and Amber stood in my way. Only that’s changing right now. With Pipes—for as long as I need her—I’ll get the notice I deserve. I’m going
