Born of Corruption

By Teri Brown

Returning to the atmospheric and mysterious Jazz Age world of Born of Illusion, Teri Brown's Born of Corruption is a 64-page companion digital novella about what happens when New York City's most notorious socialites, mobsters, and bootleggers get together for a larger-than-life scavenger hunt . . . and someone gets killed.

Cynthia Gaylord, a vivacious blonde flapper and the niece of one of the most infamous mob bosses in New York City, loves scavenger hunts, and the one she's putting together for her best friend Anna's going-away party is going to be the swankiest one ever. But then, Anna Van Housen is no ordinary friend. She is reputed to be Harry Houdini's illegitimate daughter and a magician of the first order—and she possesses psychic powers.

Before Anna leaves for a European tour with her vaudeville company, Cynthia throws open the doors of her Gramercy Park mansion for a giant bash, but when one of the guests turns up dead, Cynthia and Anna must join forces to discover the truth. Who is the mysterious dead man? And which of Cynthia's guests could have killed him? Cynthia's relatives in the mob? Or someone related to the Society for Psychical Research, a shadowy group with a dangerous history? Cynthia and Anna have to find out who done it before the coppers are called in . . . something both Cynthia and Anna are eager to avoid.

Epic Reads Impulse is a digital imprint with new releases each month.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: May 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9780062287793

Teri Brown

Teri Brown is most proud of her children, but coming in a close second is the fact that she jumped out of an airplane and beat the original Legend of Zelda video game. She is a word scribbler, head banger, math hater, book reader, food fixer, kitty keeper, and city slicker. She is also the author of the Born of Illusion novels. Teri lives with her husband and way too many pets in Portland, Oregon.

Book preview

One

"Woolworth’s? I ask my best friend dubiously. Are you sure you want to go to Woolworth’s? Why not Saks Fifth Avenue? Or even Macy’s?"

Anna shakes her head, her blue eyes amused. Woolworth’s. I need to pick up a few things for Mother. We can eat at the lunch counter afterwards. Oh, come on, Cynthia, please?

I frown, my shoulders slumping. Anna can be annoyingly obstinate. And her frugal streak is so ingrained that she even wants to budget my money, though I’m simply rolling in dough. Fine, I say, giving in. We can go to Woolworth’s so you can do your shopping and we’ll eat at the lunch counter, but only if you let me buy you a dress at Bergdorf’s for the party tonight. Deal?

You just bought me a new dress for Christmas. I don’t need another one, she complains, slipping into a pretty, though cheap, wool coat.

I blow out a breath in frustration. It’s not about the need, Anna. You don’t understand at all, do you?

A smile lights up her face. One of the many things I love about Anna is her complete unawareness of her own beauty. That and the fact that she never flirts with Jack.

You sound like my mother.

I stiffen. Even though I never show it, Anna’s mother scares me. I carry a gun for protection, but the flamboyant—and newly married—Marguerite Estella Van Housen Mauvais doesn’t have to. She could eat me alive and not even have to pick her teeth after. I shove the thought out of my mind with a shiver and link arms with Anna. Onward.

The department store is overflowing with shoppers. I trail behind Anna, looking this way and that at the shelves and shelves of merchandise. Even though Woolworth’s is the biggest five-and-dime in the world, I’ve only been here a handful of times. I’m just not a five-and-dime kind of girl.

All of New York must be breaking for lunch now because the counter is packed by the time we elbow our way up to it. We order sandwiches and Anna sips her tea with the same satisfied look I get after ordering several thousand dollars’ worth of Paris couture.

Sometimes I wonder why our friendship works. Anna is frugal. I’m a spendthrift. Anna is serious. I most decidedly am not. Anna works for a living and is fiercely independent, while my job mostly consists of changing clothes and looking good on the arm of some man, either my father’s, my uncle’s, or my husband’s. Independence is overrated. One of my cousins is independent. She went to college and now makes her own money working in the advertising business. She also has hair on her chin. I’m sure there’s no connection, but still.

Besides, the only true independence comes from having money.

The harried server sets our sandwiches down on the chipped counter and Anna digs into hers as if she’s starving. I eye mine suspiciously. You never can tell with department store lunches.

Anna suddenly pauses midbite, her hand hovering in the air. I can almost see the hair on the back of her neck rise.

What’s wrong? I lean closer, peering at her sandwich.

She shakes her head a little desperately, and I frown. Are you all right?

Her eyes take on a faraway look and little tremors run through her body. My pulse leaps as I realize what’s happening.

She’s having a psychic episode!

I’ve read about them and even witnessed Anna have one the first time I met her at one of her mother’s séances. She’d helped a woman talk to her deceased son. I glance around, wondering if anybody else has noticed, but no one is looking.

I wonder at the wisdom of interrupting her but can’t contain my excitement. Do you see a spirit?

Then as quickly as it began, it’s over. Anna turns to me, pale as a ghost herself. I’m sorry. Did I embarrass you?

Maybe having psychic powers isn’t as exciting as it seems. I shake my head and reassure her. No one even noticed. See for yourself. I wave a hand and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

What happened? I ask.

She swallows and then says very quietly, You already know that I’m psychic and that I’ve seen a spirit. Well, sometimes I also have visions of the future.

Excitement pulses in my chest. I knew it! I crow. Anna tries to downplay her psychic abilities, but I knew she was special from the moment I met her.

Her lips quirk up in a wan half smile.

What did you see?

She closes her eyes briefly. A dead man. I saw a dead man.

Shivers race up and down my spine. Who was it? I know that I should be properly horrified and I guess part of me is, but the other part of me is rather thrilled by the melodrama.

She shakes her head, color returning to her cheeks. I don’t know. I couldn’t see his face.

I hesitate over the next question. I usually just say what I want, but this situation seems to call for a modicum of tact. How did he die?

Maybe tact isn’t my strong suit.

Anna shoves her roast beef sandwich away. I don’t know. He was lying facedown in a pool of blood.

I look at my own sandwich, my stomach churning. What should we do? I finally ask.

Misery mars her pretty face. There’s nothing we can do. That’s how it works. I see horrible things, but they’re usually so vague I have no idea how to stop them. I don’t even know if I can. It’s miserable. Anna sighs. Maybe I shouldn’t come to the party. I’ll just be a wet blanket.

Wait, what? No! You can’t do that, I wail, causing people to look over at me disapprovingly. I ignore them. It’s your party! You’re leaving in a week for Europe and I’ll be all alone!

Her brows arch. You have a husband, tons of friends, and your family. Why would you say that?

I trace the edge of the counter with my finger. She has a point, but still. It’s not like having my best friend around.

You’ll find another best friend.

Not like you. I pout. Please say you’ll come.

She chews on her lip, considering.

Why wouldn’t you come to the party? We don’t know anything about this man. For all we know, he’s already dead in Scranton, Pennsylvania! If you can’t help him, there’s no reason to fret. And after all the preparations . . . I shake my head sadly and hold my breath.

All right, she says finally, and my heart leaps.

That’s just swell! You won’t regret it, I promise—it’s going to be a ton of fun. Guess what I’m giving away to the winners of the scavenger hunt?

What?

Brand new Lincoln Model Ls! I bounce in my seat.

You’re giving away cars? She’s so surprised her voice squeaks up at the end.

I nod.

All right. Anna takes a sip of her tea and slips off the stool. I guess we’re having a party then!

My excitement ebbs as she forces a smile that doesn’t reach the shadows in her eyes. I get the feeling that she may need this party more than I do.

The strident ring of the telephone greets me the moment I walk through the door of my Gramercy Park mansion. I toss my silver fox coat at Parker and his eyes widen as he scrambles for it, no doubt afraid that the pistol in the pocket will go off if the coat hits the floor. Uncle Arnie offered us a bodyguard-butler as a wedding gift, but Jack declined, preferring the real thing. My uncle had to be satisfied with giving me my driver, Al. It makes him feel better to know I’m protected by at least one of his thugs.