Cursed (Paranormal Romantic Suspense, Complete)

Chapter 30 - Rania

I didn't relish the idea of spending the evening at Daylesford Hall alone, but after my stupid admission to Will this afternoon, I needed some space to die from embarrassment.

Exhaustion and the agony of carrying my secrets inside had almost led me to confess my secrets. My sins. That I dreamed of the people I'd killed.

Because I hadn't always shied away from my destiny. My training started when I was a little girl, living with a father who saved people and a mother who killed them. Ironic, huh? My father spent his days healing people with good hearts and damaged bodies while my mother dispatched those with damaged souls to free those they left behind.

In the daytime, she'd masqueraded as an artist, filling canvases with such love and light that nobody ever suspected the darkness lurking beneath her flawless skin. But by night, she'd been the Angel of Death—judge, jury, and executioner—and as my curse grew stronger and hers began to fade, she'd passed all her skills and knowledge on to me.

The first man I ever killed was the army captain who shot my father. As a child, I'd been small enough to slip through the tiny window into his room, light enough on my feet to tiptoe across to his bed without waking him, and quick enough to slit his throat before he could struggle. His black soul had floated free from his body and scattered like dust as I watched, and while I'd felt satisfaction, his death didn't bring me any pleasure.

Each person to die by my hand had stained my conscience with more blood, and the day my mother died, from a bullet meant for me, I quit the game I'd never wanted to play in the first place. I hadn't asked to become a member of the Electi, and I didn't want to be in that elite yet deadly club any longer. I'd dispatched her killer then vowed to change my life.

But how could I tell Will that? Bursting into tears before saying, "By the way, honey, I used to be an assassin," was hardly conducive to a happy and lasting relationship, was it?

No, I'd keep my mouth shut, and the next time Will suggested sleeping pills, I'd smile, accept, then flush the damn things down the toilet.

But first, I had to deal with the mass of dirty coffee cups at Daylesford Hall and if I got really lucky, another tantrum from Helene.

"On your own tonight?"

And Arthur. Don't forget Arthur. He hovered at the bottom of the stairs, head tilted as usual, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Yes, I'm on my own. Will's gone to hunt for Aiden."

"Aiden?"

"The guy we suspect killed Helene."

Either him or Marshall, anyway. Why couldn't Arthur do the honourable thing and just tell us which one? As I watched him closely, puzzlement crossed his face, but only for a split second. Did that mean...?

"Oh, Aiden Rafferty? The salesman who always wears an expensive suit?"

"Uh..." I racked my brains. "Yes."

Whenever I'd seen Aiden, he'd been striding around in French-blue trousers and a crisp white shirt. Not bad if a girl liked the preppy look, but he did nothing for me.

"Well, I suppose I should wish your young man luck."

"Why? Does he need it? Is Aiden dangerous?"

Arthur shrugged, and even though I'd sworn off violence, I wanted to slap him.

"Any man can be dangerous given the right circumstances," he said.

"What about Owens?"

"The director?"

"Yes, him."

"Oh, Marshall's got a temper. I remember the day he drove here in his brand-new Jaguar, racing-green it was, and a delivery driver bumped into it in the car park. Must be fifteen years ago now. Old Marshall gave the man a black eye for his trouble."

Was that a roundabout way of giving me a clue? Arthur hinting that Marshall had a tendency towards violence?

"Can't you just tell me who Helene's killer is and stop all this guesswork?"

"We have a deal. You find out who threw me over the balcony, and I'll give you the answer you're searching for."

Grrr. Bloody men. Why did they have to be so complicated? Will, RJ, Arthur... I didn't understand any of them, and I probably never would. Instead of listening to more of Arthur's complaints, I stomped off towards the cleaning cupboard, my bad mood even worse. Arthur was the most irritating person on the entire planet.

"Has your boyfriend solved the case yet? My father isn't paying him to slack off."

Okay, so Arthur was the second most irritating person on the planet.

"Good evening to you too, Helene."

"You're late. Don't you usually begin work earlier than this? Everyone else went home ages ago. Well, at least half an hour."

"I don't suppose it matters what time I arrive, as long as I remember to empty the rubbish bins."

"Even so—"

"Helene, don't start."

There was only one solution to my current predicament, trapped in a house of horrors with two talkative ghosts. I hurried to the cleaning cupboard and got out the vacuum cleaner.