Page 50 of Dead of Night
Jason tried to bite my hand, prompting Matilda to wrestle the spike away from me. She swung it to the right and smashed his shrunken head against a pile of gold bars.
“Why did you do that?” I demanded.
“Because we can’t take any risks,” she said in a low voice. Her gaze flicked toward the doorway. “Let me handle Monty.”
I closed my eyes and prayed to the universe for mercy. What were we supposed to do now? Load up the truck and drive this over to the local bank? That would be a surefire way to grab The Corporation’s attention, as if this carnage wasn’t bad enough.
I heard a muffled sound and a thud, then Matilda returned to the vault, dragging her sleeve across her mouth. She plopped down on a stack of gold bars and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I need to think.”
We both needed to think. Technically, this was my mess in my town. Matilda could waltz out of here and never look back. I, however, wasn’t so fortunate.
“I may have acted in haste,” Matilda admitted.
Groaning softly, I buried my face in my hands.
“For all they know, Solomon destroyed the demon heads after an altercation.”
I looked at her. “Then who destroyed Solomon?”
“It’s a Shakespearean tragedy.” She waved a hand around. “Everybody dies.”
“They’ll investigate. Fairhaven will end up under a microscope.” Which meant I would end up under a microscope.
“They’ll never know you were here.” She gripped me by the elbow. “Go back to that bloated house of yours. I’ll clean up the mess and make sure I leave no trace of us.”
“And we just leave this giant vault of treasure sitting here?”
She cast a solemn gaze at the mountain of gold. “For now.”
CHAPTER10
My stress from Thoreau Street carried into the next day. I struggled with my intermittent Internet, searching for ideas on how to handle the treasure situation without putting the whole town in danger. Unsurprisingly, there were no easy search terms for that. It wasn’t like I was researching recipes for meatloaf.
I received a text from Gunther to let me know that Charles Diamond’s funeral would be tomorrow but not to worry, the mage wouldn’t be buried in my cemetery. Diamond’s body was destined for the newer cemetery across town. I thanked him for the update, although I already knew my cemetery was safe from any future burials.
The Internet had trouble keeping up with the speed of my searches. For some reason, banging on the side of the computer didn’t seem to have an impact. I was grateful to Steven, Nana Pratt’s grandson, for fixing the computer, but he was right—I was in dire need of a new one. Add it to the list of Things Lorelei Needs. That treasure was proving more tempting by the minute. It was likely blood money, though. It would be like robbing the mafia, whose money wasn’t really their money at all. It belonged to their victims, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep in a house I’d renovated using ill-gotten gains. Pops had raised me better than that.
I abandoned my Internet search and returned toA Complete History of Fairhaven, a book I’d renewed from the library multiple times now. I was curious at what point Hailey would send me a warning email that I’d maxed out my borrows. Apparently, nobody else was eager to dive into the town’s history. Further evidence of their willful oblivion.
I flipped through the chapters, still ruminating on the fate of the house and its treasure. I couldn’t hand the house over to Fatima to sell while the ‘offshore account’ still existed. I would doom whatever hapless humans bought the property.
My mind kept flitting back to Bruce. Although I knew my powers didn’t kill him—not directly—I still felt a sense of guilt. The more I dwelled on it, the worse I felt. After all, Bruce and I had something in common. We both stayed hidden for protection. Okay, fine. He was protecting treasure for a powerful and ruthless organization, but was that any worse than protection for a selfish reason, which mine undoubtedly was? I, too, could be powerful and ruthless when it came to my survival.
I wondered what would’ve led Bruce to take the role of guardian for The Corporation. Money? Security? A belief in something greater than himself? Or maybe he’d been coerced into it.
Unlike Charles Diamond, there was no funeral for Bruce. It seemed unfair. Diamond was a prick and an assassin to boot, yet his colleagues would come to pay their respects. Where were members of The Corporation? Why did they not mourn the loss of one of their own?
I knew why. Because Bruce had been nothing more than a pawn to them. An object to use and then discard when no longer needed.
“We should have a funeral for Bruce,” I said out loud. He deserved better than the fate I delivered to him. The fate he had to know would befall him eventually the day they messed with his mind.
“How do you throw a funeral?” I asked, storming outside in search of my ghostly neighbors.
“You don’t throw one,” Nana Pratt said, appearing from behind a headstone. “It isn’t a party.”
“It could be,” Ray interjected. “A celebration of life is more like a party.”
Nana Pratt scrunched her nose. “What life? The man died in a house he never left. Why celebrate such a sad existence?”