Free Obsidian Curse by Barbra Annino Page A

his heart. “Until recently.”
    “Your parents’ murder?”
    Blade snapped his fingers as if to say, bingo . “It wasn’t until I received a call two weeks ago from a social worker that I opened up that floodgate.” He glanced at the satchel. “After losing my parents, and then the experience of the first few foster homes, I decided to cut all ties to anything painful. I brought only a book with me from house to house until eventually, I forgot all about the box. But it was labeled with my name and the contact information for the social services office. My last foster home was here in Amethyst. The man who owned it died recently and someone found the box in his attic and contacted the agency.” He tapped the bag, right where it was buckled. “As soon as I opened it, the memory of that sticky summer day came flooding back.”
    “So what about the memory of that day makes you think it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong?”
    Blade looked at me, deadpan. “Because, Stacy, my parents knew someone was coming for them.”
    His words sent a shudder through me that chilled me to the bone. My mother knew someone was coming for me too. And her split-second decision that day sent a ripple effect through our entire family that would last a lifetime.
    “Then why didn’t they take you and leave?” I asked.
    Blade sighed and started pacing the room. “I’ve been asking myself that question ever since I opened the box two weeks ago.” His gaze met mine. “All I can figure is that they didn’t think whoever it was was there to kill them. They must have only thought that the intruder wanted something from them.” He slid his eyes over to me. “That was obvious, judging from the state of our house after the murders. The place had been thoroughly tossed.”
    “Then why didn’t they just give it up? Whatever it was.”
    Blade turned to me, leaning on the other stool. His voice was rising, excited and frustrated at the same time. “I’ve been thinking about that too. Wha t if they didn’t actually have it, but the killer was certain they did? What if they never had it? What if it was hidden? Or it belonged to someone else?”
    We stared at each other for a moment trying to piece the puzzle together. Blade broke his gaze after a while. He looked off toward the window and into the night sky, toward a past he had fought to forget.
    But the past can only be buried so long. Eventually, it catches up with all of us. It’s how we face it again that’s important. Do you run away from the horror? Or do you challenge it head-on and give it the fight of your life? I suspected Blade had struggled with that decision. He had a lot to lose, after all. A solid career, money in the bank, a job he loved.
    But looking at him now, it was obvious that he was tired of running.
    “So what happened, Blade?” I prodded gently.
    He snapped back from the fog and his voice rose an octave. “There was a hidden room inside our house. One of those Cold War bunkers that led underground. My mother stashed me in there that afternoon as soon as I got home from school. She told me to lock the door from the inside and not to come out until she came to get me. The walls were relatively soundproof, but I could hear footsteps on the ceiling and furniture crashing to the floor as if a fight had broken out.”
    “Or as if someone was ransacking the place.”
    “Exactly.”
    “So you never saw anyone. Do you know how many people came to the house?”
    “No. I couldn’t even tell you if it was a man or a woman, although if it were a woman, she would have had to be pretty strong to overcome my father, unless he was caught off guard.” He paused, thinking. “And considering the way he was killed, he could have been.”
    “What was the murder weapon?”
    “A hammer. The police believed my father was struck first, then my mother. All they took was some artwork, a clunky computer, and a few books.”
    “First-edition books?”
    Blade shrugged, shook his head.