Ancient Curse

By Barbara Edwards

Evil never dies; and for psychic Rainie Gamble who accepts a job to weed out evil artifacts, this could not be more true. When she arrives at the home of Thomas Broquette, her new boss, she isn’t sure what to expect. But the handsome and intriguing Thomas is only the tip of the paranormal activity she encounters while going through his library. After several near misses when Rainie is injured by evil forces, she wonders if her new boss is hiding a secret? What does the previous owner Mason have to do with the threads of doom encasing the estate? And why does Thomas bring her father, a well-known art thief, into their midst. The attraction she feels for Thomas grows, as does the evil winning its battle against the inhabitants of what could be her new home. Rainie wonders if she will find and defeat the inhuman force causing all their problems before she and Thomas are sucked into its evil forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781628305685

Book preview

XOXOXO

Prologue

Thomas Broquette glared at the masterpiece Sunflowers by Vincent Van Gogh. The oil painting hung prominently in Mason’s guest bedroom. Late afternoon sun poured like liquid gold across the room. He swore under his breath. The bright yellow flowers should be in a museum in Paris, not Rhodes End. His hands fisted on his hips while he considered his options.

Acquiring Mason’s entire estate after his death had seemed like a perfect solution. Mason had owed him millions. Instead, the truth about the house’s contents left him with a serious dilemma.

When Sammy coughed loudly Thomas turned and gestured at the oil painting. That bastard Mason was nothing but trouble from the first minute.

Well, Broker, you’ll need to decide what to do with them, Sammy said with a nod of his bullet-shaped head. He used a wrinkled red bandanna to wipe sweat from his forehead. The August heat was unrelenting in its punishment.

Don’t call me Broker. He’s dead. I’m Thomas Broquette, Thomas growled. Tension knotted in his healing shoulder until pain rebounded. The simmering humidity paled in comparison to his inner rage at the dead man.

Hard to remember with ya standin’ in front of me. Sammy’s shiny black eyes disappeared amid rolls of wrinkled flesh when he squinted at the oil painting.

Mason couldn’t resist owning the originals. Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He certainly didn’t get this or the ones in the master bedroom from me. I could find the dealer easily. I kept an extensive file on who deals in stolen artwork.

Not many that also handles the forgeries. Should be easy to find. If’n you want to.

Not my first choice. Contacting my former sources will lead my enemies straight to me. He drummed his fingers and huffed out a deep breath. I need to think. These won’t be easy to return. He had to be good enough to fool experts.

Best hide ’em until you figure something out. The first question is do you have more than these three? The second is where to put them.

Did you ever hear of ‘The Purloined Letter’?

Sammy’s deep laugh echoed through the house as they descended to the library.

A faint noise drew Thomas to the French doors leading to the patio. Sammy didn’t follow.

Humidity spread a soggy blanket over the sun-warmed flagstones and threatened an afternoon thunderstorm. He nodded at the pair of totally powerful males sprawled on the wicker seats like relaxed puppies, not the wolf-like hunters they could be. The lowering sun gleamed like a falling coin.

Why is it no surprise you’re here?

Something smelled, said Cole Benedict. And it wasn’t garden flowers. A sleek, muscular man with black hair and golden eyes, he was the CEO of Benedict Herbals and a talented botanist. His family had lived in Rhodes End for generations.

I don’t have your nose. Doctor Steve Zoriak shrugged before he grinned at Thomas. But I agree anything Mason had his fingers into stank.

His silver eyes glittered. Another recent resident of Rhodes End, he was married to the police department’s only female cop.

Both saluted him with opened pop cans. His relief at their presence came as a surprise. These men were the closest he’d come to friends in many years. They’d shared their secrets, and he trusted them with his life. Cole and Steve knew who he’d been and would keep his secrets.

Sammy says you got a problem. Danger might affect us all, Steve explained. He finished the can’s contents and crushed it in his fist. "Not that he said, but he does have a feel for what’s happening."

Cole pushed to his feet and paced to the edge of the stone patio. Gerbera daisies, delphiniums, and masses of roses drew insects that hummed and buzzed in the well-tended cottage gardens. Tall and dark, his lean strength was obvious. His golden gaze searched beyond the high wall surrounding the acreage.

Cole’s werewolf heritage gave him the ability to sense things beyond normal human capacity. His gaze shifted to a heavily carved pedestal and the large shallow bowl centered in the herbal knot beds closest to the patio like a dark heart.

Looks like Mason installed a moon dial. Too bad the gnomon is missing, he said. He frowned before he moved closer to study the ornate mosaic surface. Or maybe not.

What are you talking about? Thomas followed him. Astrological figures twisted in a convoluted pattern that confused the eye and mind. I thought this was a sundial.

No. See these ancient constellations? It’s used for astrological computing. His hand paused over the center. He shrugged as though a weight had settled on his shoulders and lifted his head to sniff the wind. Something is wrong.

You’re right. Wish I knew how Sammy suspected before I knew. Thomas’s jaw tightened. Man’s a constant puzzle. Do you have a few minutes?

He glanced at the open French doors. He’d expected Sammy to join them, but he was gone. Thomas rubbed the back of his neck.

Got nothing else to do until the little women get off duty, Steve said when he joined them.

Cole snorted. Don’t let Mel hear you call her little. She’s one tough cop.

And Lily is no slouch. She’ll use her authority as animal control officer to stuff you into one of the kennels and order a series of shots from the vet, Steve returned.

Cole’s eyes glowed with pride. She’s pregnant, you know.

Not surprised, the way you keep her tied to your side, Thomas said, laughing as he shook Cole’s hand. Congratulations.

Then it’s doubly important to keep any problems quiet. With both women working for Chief Howard, we’ll leave them out of this, whatever it is. Steve frowned. His dark brows met over his narrowed eyes.

Then I’ll explain. Mason left me a nasty surprise along with those collections. It seems he stole a Van Gogh masterpiece along with two El Grecos.

Steve whistled through his teeth. Can’t call in the FBI, Homeland Security or any of the alphabet soup agencies. None of them can keep a secret. And you don’t want to draw that kind of attention to yourself anyway.

Cole shifted lightly on his feet. His nostrils quivered he lifted his face to the wind. Trouble’s in the air.

No surprise. Thomas ran his fingers through his hair. About the paintings. I need to decide what to do with them.

Cole glanced at him from under his dark brows. You could keep them.

Chapter One

Rainie Gamble hoped her potential employer would attribute the perspiration on her brow to the August heat and not her strained nerves. She desperately needed this job.

Three days ago, she wondered how she’d pay the rent. When his call, offering employment, came out of the blue, she’d had no qualms about packing her bags for the drive to Connecticut.

Her gaze wandered across the gardens, and she drew in a deep breath. It eased the headache throbbing behind her eyes from being so close to so many ancient items. She smoothed her hand over her hair.

After touring the various collections in his mansion, Thomas Broquette had led her to this flowery bower. Nearby roses filled the air with their sweet scent. She frowned at an ornate sculpture dominating the center of the old-fashioned herb garden. It resembled a sundial, but the hour symbols were wrong.

The ancient mosaic tiling decorating the face practically vibrated with violent emotion. She turned from the object with a silent vow to avoid touching any part of its evil surface.

She focused on Thomas Broquette, dragging her attention from the chaotic vibrations.

His white-on-white shirt and sharply pleated black slacks reminded her he’d been a successful businessman.

The flower beds were part of Mason’s concept. He was a complicated man. As you’ve seen, his other collections fill the place, and I want to dispose of them. Thomas gestured toward their surroundings.

She studied him closely. Although he was older than her, he was too young to be retired. He affected her the same way as his home: a combination of fascination and dread.

When his hand brushed the elaborately decorated sculpture, Rainie shuddered. The thick stone pedestal crawled with astrological creatures. Instead of numbers the face displayed tortured patterns.

She bit her lip. Something about the elaborately figured faceplate niggled at her memory. She’d have to research it on-line. The dial or gnomon that would indicate the time was missing. She didn’t need to touch the surface to know it had been part of some hideous ritual.

Rainie swallowed her warning. He obviously didn’t feel the dark vibrations oozing from the surface. She eased a step further along the path, but her ability to feel the violent history didn’t fade.

Dating antiques is my specialty. Every collectable is tested; some require a tiny scraping for advanced chemical tests. Sweat pooled between her breasts. The fight to hide her anxiety was a losing battle. The headache throbbed in her temples, the usual result of using her talent.

His easy nod indicated she should continue, but his gaze studied her with the interest of a large tiger for potential prey.

I’m extremely careful to keep them unmarred.

She worked to relax while she held his stare. At first she’d thought his eyes a plain brown, but they were rimmed by golden stripes that matched the tiger’s eye stone in his heavy signet ring.

While a few may have a verifiable provenance… Oh, I could go on for hours about the various methods. The last thing she wanted was questions about unorthodox methods.

When he dropped his gaze to the heavy manila folder he held, she surreptitiously swiped her forehead with her wrist. Much as she longed to back away, she resisted the urge.

I’m not questioning your ability. His gravel-rough tone had grown familiar during his phone calls. Her stomach knotted, but not with fear. His rough male baritone resonated along feminine nerves she’d thought long buried.

Her gaze traveled over his wide forehead, deep-set eyes, and high cheekbones. His hard features weren’t handsome in the classical sense, but attracted her anyway. She ached to touch him like one of the objects she studied to discover what he concealed behind his shadowed regard.

To steady her nerves, she inhaled the subtle mix of floral scents. Behind her the collected objects in the house vibrated with old energy, begging her to pick them up. Although she needed this job, wanted to resume her career, the Mason collections gave her the creeps. They repulsed and fascinated her, pulling her in two directions, making her nerves vibrate.

She waited for him to finish. After a long pause he tapped the file and laid it on the mosaic. You have impressive credentials. Your resume includes working on some of the world’s finest collections. What I’m questioning is the length of time needed to do a complete inventory.

Our proposed contract states four weeks. Rainie stifled a sigh of relief. He didn’t mention the long period of unemployment.

True. His frowning gaze made her squirm. These collections are more than extensive. They contain some truly vile items. After seeing what’s involved, are you still willing?

Rainie bit her lower lip. The frown creasing his high forehead had deepened while they talked. She grabbed the bull by the horns.

If you think there will be a problem, tell me now, she directed in a stern teacher’s voice she had learned to use with her recalcitrant father. She lifted her hand in an encompassing gesture. Cataloguing estate collections is my specialty. With the enormous number of contents, I don’t think it can be done any quicker.

So it might take longer? His voice took on a coating of melted honey. A warm smile curved his lips, and Rainie gulped. Her nerves had blinded her. When he smiled, he projected masculine appeal like a lighthouse sending a beacon over a lonely shore.

A definite possibility. Her vigorous nod loosened a strand from her French twist to brush her cheek. She impatiently brushed it back. Her wildly curly hair remained the bane of her life. His gaze followed her gesture when she tucked it behind her ear, and her skin heated as if he touched her.

Well. He leaned back, and his lips curved upward. If it does, then you’ll be compensated at the same rate for your efforts.

Relief made her head spin. She had the job. After five years she would return to what she did best. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat.

Thank you. She managed a positive tone.

After their tour of the house’s interior, he’d discarded his suit jacket and shoved up his sleeves. Her stomach heated when his muscular arms flexed. Let’s fetch your cases.

She followed him through the house, absently enjoying the polished oak floors and chandeliers dripping shiny crystal tears. Some of the house’s contents were lovely. The heavily furnished rooms had darkened as thick clouds gathered outside. Although the wide windows admitted light, the increasing gloom settled on her shoulders like a dark weight.

Although her compact car perched exactly in the middle of the curved drive, they’d need to hurry to beat the threatening storm. Her new employer’s broad shoulders accented his trim waist when he hefted the largest three of her four cases and preceded her back inside.

Rainie gripped her computer case and lifted the smallest of her bags. He wasn’t a big man, four or five inches taller than her five foot two—plus two-inch heels. She shrugged to loosen the sudden tension gripping her shoulders. Although her fingers itched to comb through his brown wavy hair, she had a strict policy against getting involved with an employer. She’d tasted that poison apple once. Never again.

Finding Rhodes End took longer than I expected, she said casually. She had to stop thinking of him as an attractive male. The trip from Boston took less than an hour, but after I turned off the highway I couldn’t find the right roads around Rhodes End.

Really? He sounded distracted.

Her heels clicked like castanets on the foyer’s marble floor when she crossed to the curved stairway. He glanced over his shoulder. His heavy frown darkened his eyes to mahogany.

I took one wrong turn after another despite the simple directions you provided. And the GPS stopped working. If I were superstitious, I’d think something didn’t want me here. She halted her nervous babbling.

Interesting. I should have warned you that electronics like cell phones and GPS don’t work here. Luckily the village isn’t large. Maybe you have a strong imagination? Does it play a part in your work? His white teeth flashed in a grim smile.

As a matter of fact, no. My work’s rather mundane, almost boring. She wiped a hand across her mouth. She didn’t want to lie. Past accusations of fraud echoed like gunshots in her head.

Then why do you do it?

My parents imported archeological items, and I learned a great deal from my father. He said my ability to verify the age of an object was rare. Something he nurtured for years. Rainie blocked memories of the things she’d seen and felt while handling ancient artifacts. And when I discover a rare or valuable item gathering dust in a dark corner, it can be wildly satisfying.

His muscular back and athletic thighs held her gaze when he climbed the wide steps. Another warm tingle raced up her spine. He exuded virility like a statue of David, only hotter. Way hotter.

Enjoying your work means a great deal, he said. Do you like the house?

Parts of it. Especially the library and the gardens, and those chandeliers. If I were you, I’d install oriental runners and a huge carpet to soften this marble entry. Her fingers played over the polished banister. The rosewood was carved for an older, more elaborate entry. After you clear out Mason’s collections.

She sensed the trembling touch of a nervous bride descending to her impatient groom. It was a relief to discover an emotion so sweet.

I intend to. You’ll notice almost everything upstairs is new. Thomas led her to the end of the second story hall. He shouldered open an elaborately carved oak door to reveal a room flooded with light. A excellent copy of a Van Gogh painting revealed the inspiration