Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival by Nancy K. Duplechain

of
fallen angels who were once sent to Earth to protect humans.”  She said this
rather nonchalantly, and I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not.
    “Fallen angels?” I said in
disbelief.
    She nodded. “I’m afraid
so.”
    “Well, why do they want
the mask so badly?”
    “We think it’s because
it’s cursed.  Two evil men died wearing it, and that gives it a dark power that
can be transferred to the next one to wear it.  They are going to convert more
people over to their side with an elaborate Mardi Gras ball for their pretend
krewe.  When the Grigori crown their new king, he will absorb the power, and The
Dark Ones will become stronger, tipping the scales on the dark side.  This
makes it much harder for us paladins to stop them.”
    Nadia turned down the
very trendy Magazine Street, drove a couple of blocks, and pulled up to the
curb in front of an old antique shop.  When we entered, the door gently swung
shut behind us with the sound of a tinkling bell.  The smell of fresh coffee
was in the air, and it overpowered the musty odor from the eclectic collection
of baubles and trinkets from years past.  Everything was organized in different
collections; sets of dishes here, linens there, a locked glass counter full of
antique jewelry and a display of Mardi Gras and Venetian masks along the back
wall.  Near us was a shelf of musical items, like snow globes and ornate music
boxes.
    It occurred to me that a
music box would be a wonderful souvenir for Lyla.  I glanced at them, and one
in the back on the second row caught my eye.  It was cherry wood, inlayed with
a gold rose-and-vine design.  I picked up the music box in the front and
cradled it in my left arm.  I handed Nadia the second box.  “Hold this for a
sec,” I said.
    “Oh, wait—” she started,
but stopped as I thrust the box into her hands.
    I reached back toward the
wall and grabbed the last music box.  I turned it over and saw the price tag
was $80.00.  “Ouch,” I said.  Well, not that bad for an antique, I guess.  ‘Course
you never know if they’re pulling your leg about the whole antique thing.  Might
have been made in 1997 for all we know.”  I laughed, but Nadia was silent.  I looked
back at her, and she was staring off into the distance with tears pricking her
eyes.  “Hey, are you okay?”
    She nodded meekly and
sniffled.  “Sorry.  It’s … well, my ability—”  She looked at me and saw the
perplexed look in my eyes.  “I can see the history of anything I touch.”
    “Oh.”  After an awkward
moment, I said, “What’s the story with that particular music box?”
    Nadia smiled sadly and
her gaze shifted from me to something I couldn’t see.  “A man in 1960’s
Czechoslovakia bought this for his girlfriend, the love of his life.  They
wanted to get married, but her parents didn’t approve.  She became pregnant,
and she and the baby died during childbirth.  Her parents ran him out, and he
moved to New York City to be a piano player.  Every day he played the tune from
this box.  He jumped from the top of his apartment building in 1969.  This box
was left on the roof with the song playing.”
    Nadia sniffled again and
gently placed the music box on the linens table beside her.  I looked at the
box I wanted for Lyla and thought twice about it.  I put it back where I found
it and returned to the shelf the other one I had in my arm.  I picked up the
sad little box Nadia had placed on the table.  It wasn’t as pretty as the one I
wanted; it was made of pine and had a couple of deep scratches in the wood.  Instead
of golden roses, it was hand-painted with tulips, the paint faded and chipped
long ago.  I opened the box and listened to the little tune.  It was nothing I
recognized, but the tiny plastic couple who danced to it seemed pleased with
the melody.
    “Some things should get
happily-ever-afters,” I said, tucking the box into my arm.  Nadia smiled at me.
    “Hello?”  We turned
toward