The Skeleton Key Read Free Page B

husband, a photographer, had died many decades before and I supposed she remembered him with some fondness. Still, it seemed an eccentric habit. Beneath the mesh of the veil my great-aunt’s cheekbones were high and sculpted. Her lips were painted in a blood-red lipstick and her skin was as smooth as a pearl. Which is odd, as by my calculations she should be nearly ninety. This fact had caused some suspicion from me early on in our friendship, but I’d now pretty much grown used to this odd characteristic of hers. And others.
    Celia had encouraged me to apply for the position at Pandora after I’d been rejected by other publications. Some­how she’d just known I’d get this job.
    She has a spooky way of knowing things.
    â€˜Oh, you know I have to keep Vlad busy,’ my great-aunt said, dismissing my protest with a wave of her manicured hand. ‘Where will you go tonight?’ She tilted her head and waited.
    I grinned. ‘The Empire State Building. We’ll walk.’
    â€˜Oh, that will be a pleasant stroll,’ Celia said. ‘Do you think he’ll be able to get there okay?’
    I knew what she meant.
    â€˜I think so. I feel positive about it,’ I said. She’d been encouraging me to go with my instincts and my instincts told me that tonight would be a breakthrough.
    â€˜Good. Well, that should make for a very interesting evening then. Be sure to wear something warm in case it gets chilly.’
    I thought of Celia’s vintage fox stole. She’d been wearing it for decades and it did rather suit her, but though she’d offered to let me borrow it I didn’t feel all that comfortable wearing a whole animal around my neck. Maybe that was hypocritical of me, considering I wasn’t even a vegetarian.
    â€˜The fox stole is on the coat stand if you want it,’ she said.
    I thought I detected the tiniest hint of mischief in her voice. Sometimes I swear Celia knows what I’m thinking.
    â€˜That’s okay. Thanks anyway. I’d better get ready now,’ I told her and started walking to my room.
    â€˜Deus wishes to see you tonight,’ she said, just as I had my hand on the doorknob.
    I stopped and turned. ‘Really? Deus?’ At the thought, my mouth became dry.
    It had been one month since I’d last seen Deus, on the night he’d saved me from falling off the roof. It had been a complicated situation but, suffice it to say, I was pretty uncomfortable about owing him my life. Deus was very close to Celia, that was true, but still, he was Sanguine . You know – an undead person. Sanguine means of blood. The V word is very politically incorrect, and I don’t recommend using it unless you’d like to get necked.
    Deus was a very busy creature. And ancient. And pretty important from what I could tell. A meeting with him was no small thing. It almost certainly meant that something serious was up.
    â€˜Do you know what he, um, wants to see me about?’
    â€˜He says he needs to tell you in person.’
    â€˜Oh,’ I said.
    â€˜You go ahead and have a good time with your soldier tonight. If you’re back around midnight he’ll see you then,’ my great-aunt said.
    She said this as a statement. Not a possibility. I’d be back at midnight then.

    I went to my room and showered quickly in the ensuite, being careful not to wet my hair, then laid out some of my favourite clothes on my four-poster bed. My great-aunt had a stunning wardrobe and she was always giving me things to wear. I’d arrived from Gretchenville with barely the clothes on my back, and even those had not been very nice, but by now I had borrowed quite a collection of vintage dresses and tops. Incredibly, everything of Great-Aunt Celia’s fitted me, even the shoes. She said it was because I was a Lucasta, like her. If surnames were not so unwaveringly patriarchal, I would have been Pandora Lucasta instead of Pandora