The Master and The Marionette (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 2)

Kane and I take a moment alone against an ancient angel oak tree, sitting on separate sides of its thick trunk. I stretch out my legs, holding the wooden box on my lap, running my thumbs along its rough edges.

The box is heavy, like its purpose is to be a glorified paperweight. I tap at the gold lock attached to its opening. “It’s locked,” I holler over my shoulder.

I hear him dig into his pocket. He passes me the small golden key, reaching his arm around the tree to hand it to me. What if I get a letter too? What if he explains his illness to me?

I unlock the box, set the lock down on top of my left thigh, and lift the lid to unveil a heap of shiny objects. I lean down and narrow my eyes to get a better look. So many colors, red, green, gold, silver. Glittering under the sun. They sparkle and wave hello to their new owner. I recognize some of the gems. Rubies and emeralds. Diamonds. Gold and silver. He left me valuables. But for what? What am I supposed to do with them? Find a jeweler and get them attached to earrings and bracelets so I can finally look like a respectable woman in our society. Kane and I don’t need diamonds where we’re going.

I sigh, using my index finger to push a few diamonds aside, mixing them with the green tint of the emeralds. I hook my finger around a chain. A golden chain. Attached to something heavier and bigger than the gems piled up among each other. A circular gold piece. Two rings hanging on either side of the thick locket. Oh, it’s a necklace.

I hold the locket in my hands. The ring hanging on the right has a marquise cut diamond on it. Are these wedding rings? I see the line opening on the side of the locket. My fingernails dig in to open it. Clink. Open. An oval photograph. My father’s face. Violet’s face. Babies. Two of them. It’s our family photograph. I feel my lips part ways, sucking gusts of air through my open mouth.

The photo is black and white. But I know that cheekbone. That dark hair. He’s kissing Violet on the cheek. Her mouth is open like she’s laughing. She’s wearing a white gown in a bed. Was this just after she gave birth to us? They each hold an infant. The two happiest people on earth. What the hell happened to them? I’ve only ever known them as the two coldest people on this earth. How can one photo hidden in a locket tell me otherwise? I caress the back of the locket as I try and imagine how different their lives were before we were born. How long were they together? Did we ruin their marriage? Their minds? I feel a rough texture on the back of the locket so I flip it over. Words are engraved on the back. Words I never expected to read.

You will

always have

our love and

our hearts

I stare at their message in shock. Love? Love? The man locked me in a basement for days at a time. He nearly beat me to death. Violet sold her daughter’s body for money. Had strange men come into their home and molest her. How dare they say we have their love and their hearts? They had enough to put into this locket but not enough to give us a decent childhood?

I throw the box and locket out in front of me and cross my arms.

Kane is kneeling at my side. The envelope is sticking out of his pocket. I reach forward, pull the locket out from the mess the open box made and stick it in Kane’s palm.

“Here,” I say. “Behold, the loving parents that raised Scarlett and me.”

He examines the locket, opening it to see the photo, flipping it over to see the loving words they left for us. Holding the rings between his thumb and the tips of his fingers.

His gaze moves at a glacially slow pace to meet mine. He wants to say something. Please just say it, Kane. He purses his lips. He holds it back. His eyes bounce back and forth between both of mine.

“You should keep this.” He holds out the locket.

I shake my head.

“I think it’s important that you do.”

I gasp. “You remember how my sister died, right? Violet, the woman in that photo, did that to her. She killed my sister.” I push his hand away. “I’ll never put that around my neck.”

He looks at me, holding back, edging on advice he wants to give. His hand reaches for the jewels now covered in dirt and grass.

“It looks like Jack left you a trust fund.” He changes the subject.

“I don’t want it.”

“I think this was his way of making sure you would be taken care of.” He pauses. Watches me with uncertainty. “He left it in the basement for you to find.”

At this I can’t help but laugh. “In the basement, huh? He gets one last laugh from the grave.” This is both ironic and simply ugly. The one place I would never step foot into again is the one place he leaves me valuables to start a new life. If Kane never went down there, I would have gone the rest of my life without it. Surely he knew that, surely he could have guessed that the basement was not kind to me as a child. He was not kind to me as a child.

“I’m going to put it back where I found it,” he says quietly. “Until you’re ready to open it again.”