Page 10 of Heir to a Curse

I approached the fountain, stepping around to find the mechanism. The little door access at the bottom was closed. Maybe Jerry had been here already? That made no sense.

I sat down on the lipped edge of the fountain and stared at it, a thousand thoughts going through my head, yet relaxed by the play of rippling water. The faint smell of incense trickled through the room from the stick I’d lit. Someone had been here, opened the door, and turned on the fountain. Of that I was sure.

The bottom of the pool was still discolored with rotting leaves and other debris. I’d have to pick up a cleaner while I was out. I added it to my list. But the water itself was fairly clear. The slight ripple from the falling flow of water gave enough life to the surface that I could only see the vague outline of my face, my dark hair, beginning to pepper with gray, and the patch of beard that would need cleaning up soon. Sofia had said the beard made me look distinguished. I asked her if the gray helped with that too or if it just made me look old. She said I’d always be her ‘boy’ anyway.

Fuck. The memories cut deep. I blinked back tears.

Something moved in the reflection behind me. A glimpse of a face? White hair? Pale skin? Dark eyes? I spun around, expecting someone to be there, only I was alone.

Another glance into the pool and there was nothing. No one standing over my shoulder, though I was sure I’d seen it. Goosebumps rippled over my arms, a knot of anxiety forming in my gut. It wasn’t the same intense and eerie feeling I’d had in that one basement years back. More a feeling of being unsettled. Disrupted. Watched.

A slight memory tugged at my brain. Not all the legends spoke of protective ancestors. Sometimes they were vengeful spirits. A life of pain and an abrupt end could turn them into something darker. Many a story had come from those. A lot of stories about a woman with dark hair, seeking lost children or a cheating husband or something. I had always thought them more a warning to men and children, don’t piss off your wife/mother, else she’ll stalk you in death. Had that been what I’d seen? I couldn’t recall any stories of ancestors doing that sort of thing. Not outside a horror movie. Maybe it was a trick of the light. I stared into the water a while longer, searching the space behind me. The only movement was from the trees outside blowing in the wind.

I took a few breaths to steady myself and headed toward the door. This time I made sure to close it and latch it properly. I even checked the door of the cabin before making my way to the main house and the back door which was unlocked. From the giant wall of windows I could see movement inside, and faintly hear the voices of people.

The dining area had been set up with a big banquet table, and filled with fresh pastries and fruit, as well as a hot plate with eggs and meats. The handful of people filling their plates I assumed to be staff since Montana stood beside the table greeting everyone. He gave me a warm smile and a little wave.

“This is quite the spread,” I told him.

“Yes. Normally I do just basics in the morning for the staff, but I thought since you and your men would be here, you’d all need food. I had to go out and pick up the pastries and the fruit trays, but the eggs and bacon are fresh,” he said. He offered up another wave, this time to Mr. Yamamoto, who entered from the main foyer.

“I thought what you packed for me was good, but this is great. Thank you. Be sure you supply the costs for everything to Mr. Yamamoto so it can come from the house account,” I reminded him, not wanting him paying for this from his own pocket.

“Sure,” Montana agreed.

Mr. Yamamoto approached and reached out to squeeze Montana’s arm. He pointed to his mask.

“Crap,” I mumbled and dug mine out and put it on, having forgotten.

Montana did much the same. “Sorry! Forgot. Was so excited to have people in the house.”

“Safety first,” Mr. Yamamoto reminded us. “Haven’t seen a breakfast this divine in ages.”

“I can put together a traditional breakfast in just a few minutes if you’d prefer,” Montana said.

“This is fine,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “I have lots of paperwork to do today. And I’m sure Mr. Frank—”

“Zach,” I added.

“Zach,” Mr. Yamamoto corrected. “Has a great deal of work as well.”

“I do,” I agreed. “But if Montana has a few minutes, I’d like to discuss kitchen ideas with him, so I know what to order. Is there anyone else who helps out in the kitchen?” I scanned the room.

“Ana helps a lot,” Montana pointed toward one of the women and waved her over.

“Great. Let’s all grab a seat and I’ll make some notes.” I looked over the table, finding coffee at the end. “And some coffee.”

“Of course!” Montana stepped away to talk to Ana and I made my way to the coffee at the end, mentally making a list of things I needed to do this morning. There would be no avoiding driving into the bigger city for supplies. Which meant several hours of not getting things done at the house. However, I knew Jerry and Mike would be back with basic supplies to begin fixing the plumbing and electrical. And Jerry’s girls could get the cleaning of the shrine finished for me.

That reminded me. “Was anyone out at the shrine this morning?” I asked Mr. Yamamoto.

“I only arrived myself a few minutes ago. But it’s unlikely. None of the staff like it much out there. Stories of ghosts and the like.”

Perhaps the one I’d seen in the pool? I pulled the little dragon out of my pocket. “Also, I found this in the cabin. Does it belong to anyone in particular? Maybe someone forgot it?”

Mr. Yamamoto examined the little figurine. “Looks like a netsuke. Sofia used to have a collection of them. Though she passed most of them on to one of her siblings years ago. If it’s real, they are very old.”

“What’s a ‘net ska’?” I asked, trying to copy his pronunciation.