Page 111 of The Devil's Torment

“You know, I think I will take the painting with us and have it restored.”

I’m intelligent and clear-headed enough to recognize why I’ve made that decision. It’s all part of moving on and forgiving my mother for what she did, but I’m also smart enough to know I never would have made that leap if it wasn’t for my incredible wife. The beam of joy she gives me confirms I’ve made the right choice.

“Great idea.”

She follows me downstairs, with Penny glued to her heels. I unhook the painting and lift it down. “Christ, it’s heavy. And thick for a canvas.”

As I turn, Victoria frowns and points. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“On the back. There’s, like, a cutout.”

I prop the painting against the couch, then spin it around to allow me to check out the reverse side. Sure enough, there’s a square cut in the canvas, as though the back of it has been sliced open and put back together.

“Grab me a knife from the kitchen.” I drop to a crouch, examining the bisected area. I tap on it. The noise it makes is dull, not hollow. How odd.

“Here.” Victoria hands me a butter knife.

I slide it through the cut and ease it outward. Like a door, it pops open.

My pulse soars, and my mouth dries up. Inside is a box. I take it out, turning it over in my hands.

“What is it?” Victoria asks.

I push to my feet. “Remember I told you about the key Imogen and Xan found in the snow globe and we’ve never figured out what it opened?”

Her eyes widen. “And you think the key fits this box?”

“The lock is small enough. Yeah, I do. I fucking do. I think my mum put that box in there and hid the key in the snow globe.”

“But why go to all the trouble?”

I shake the box. Nothing rattles. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

ChapterThirty-Seven

NICHOLAS

My blood is pumping so fast that it’s making me lightheaded, and my heart’s pelting my ribcage hard enough to risk a fracture. I’d long ago given up hope of ever finding what the key Xan and Imogen found in the snow globe fitted, although I know my brother well enough to guess that he hasn’t abandoned all faith.

I could still be wrong, and the box is a red herring, but if the key doesn’t fit, I’m forcing this thing open anyway. Mum hid it behind that picture for a reason, and I intend to find out what her reasoning was.

Leaving the painting in the car, I take Victoria’s hand and slowly walk upstairs to our part of the house. Once I’ve settled her in the living room, I head toward Xan’s office.

It’s empty.

I check the library, his apartment, and the dining room. No sign.

Phone it is, then.

After selecting his number, I hit call. The hum of a car engine sounds through the phone.

“Nicholas, what’s up?”

“Where are you?”

“Twenty miles from central London. I have a meeting.”

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