Page 67 of Heir to a Curse

Chapter 25

Several days of reoccurring power outages and a half dozen repaired lines later, I was standing in the main entry of the house waiting for the arrival of a truck and a moving crew. Days of silence had passed. No sign of Xiang. No damage to the house.

My heart ached with the idea of never seeing him again. Whatever had come through this last time looking for him, had been big. Even cutting down a swath of trees near the main road. So I was desperate, not only to see him again, but to break the curse no matter what it took.

Zhao was the first to arrive. Mr. Yamamoto let him in and the staff was all present, masked, gloved, and keeping careful distance.

“This seems a very odd request,” Mr. Zhao told me. “These items are worth a great deal of money.”

“Which is why you want them,” I reminded him. “They mean nothing to me.” I’d gone over the list extensively with Mr. Yamamoto. There was nothing on the list he thought Sofia would have demanded to keep. In fact, he thought she’d likely forgotten these things had value, since they were everyday items in the house. A certain bed-frame, a dressing table, a few paintings and vases, nothing that mattered anything to me at all. Growing up with very little, I put importance on things that were less material, and more conceptual. Like home over furniture. Family over money, that sort of thing.

“Do you have family in each of those locations?” I asked. I’d sent him a list of the locations I recalled hearing from Xiang’s world as we passed, hoping I had them all. “It’s important that each one handle this officially. Not just sending a servant or something or providing lip service.”

“I discussed it on a video call with each of them. We all find it a bit odd and silly. Very few believe in the old ways anymore.”

“Though receiving this stuff free of charge is contingent on their cooperation,” I said, trying to keep from gritting my teeth. This was my last chance. The only hope I had left of fixing all this madness.

He nodded. “We’ve all heard the legend. After reviewing the historical record you’ve pulled for us, it’s interesting to find part of it is true.”

Xiang had existed. He had been officially exiled as a traitor to the empire. Though usually traitors were executed rather than exiled, so that had been the first red flag in the story. There were other small bits of history in record that made the entire thing seem odd. He’d been very young when exiled. Mid-teens at most, which wasn’t unheard of to send to war as a soldier, but to exile, he would have had to have been very ambitious to be a traitor. His branch of the family, cut off, and since he was the last remaining of his line, that meant death to his remaining lineage. It was literally like cutting off a branch of the family tree.

“Seems silly to blame him for not being some sort of mythical hand of the gods,” I said. The reference in history had been vague, but along that line.

Zhao nodded. “Our ancestors believed odd things. Like curses.”

“The damage to the house says something is off here. More than a little bad luck. The cost of my insurance agrees.”

He sighed. “A curse.”

“You’ve seen the trouble. Is this the only estate in your family that has ever experienced it?” I knew the connection of the shrines. How often did Xiang go through those doors? If he sought me out over and over through time, this couldn’t be the only place I’d ever shown up. Had any of the previous versions of me popped up elsewhere? I had a feeling I had.

For a minute a storm of emotion marched across Zhao’s face. Like he was remembering things, piecing things together, and didn’t like the answering equation. “We have had incidents over the years,” he finally admitted.

“So in cursing him, you’ve cursed yourselves. Doesn’t it sound like a good idea to do this forgiveness thing?”

“How do you know it will work?”

“I don’t,” I said. And that was the worst part. I was out of options. Xiang had not returned in over a week. I’d not seen any glimpse he might. Was he even still alive? Trapped behind his wards? Starving and lonely? “All I can do is hope. Doesn’t sound like anything was ever entered into your family records about absolving him of treason.”

“None that I found, no.”

I nodded. “Worth a try, right?”

“Will you request the furniture back if it doesn’t work?”

“No. But I’d like video confirmation of each group holding the ceremony, and a note added to the family record that he is absolved of any crime the family thinks he committed.”

“It will take a few days.”

“I understand, but the sooner the better.”

“Let me direct the movers and we shall head out to the shrine here, yes?”

“Please,” I agreed. Zhao, being the head of the family here in New York, and me, being new owner of the house, I hoped it would help. Hope was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

The movers arrived, all gloved and masked as I’d requested. I wasn’t risking the house staff for some material crap. I didn’t care if it was crown jewels. Their lives and their families were more important than any of it. But I watched the movers strip the house of a couple dozen pieces of furniture. Things I’d have to pay to replace because rooms couldn’t function without tables or beds. Though I had to fight the sadness at the idea that they were clearing Sofia’s house. My house.

“It’s just stuff,” I reminded myself a dozen times. Mr. Yamamoto patted my arm a few times when something particularly large was moved. Like the baby grand piano. As far as I knew, Sofia didn’t play. No one in the house had, not for decades. So why I got emotional over watching it wrapped and carefully removed from the back of the house, since those doors were large enough, I didn’t know. “It’s just stuff.”