They were less likely to break open every barrel in the winery.

And so it had continued through eleven generations. The family’s darkest secret. The family’s source of wealth. The vintage that won awards, that sparked delighted discussion, that sold for six-figure amounts. Each generation would have been shown what existed inside. Each generation would have realized they could never tell a soul.

To bring closure to the murdered Hulls would have meant losing everything. Their business. Their reputation. The curse exacted a heavy price, but it also brought prosperity they were loath to lose. Each owner in turn had deemed the cost of justice too high.

And it had fueled the curse.

People who worked closest to the barrels were the quickest to be chained by them. Andrew, originally hired as a seasonal laborer, had likely helped prepare the wine that went into the hanging tree casks.

Nora and Ray, responsible for the public store, had managed to stay at their house in the town for years. The store only sold midrange wines to tourists and locals, aged in the regular cellar. The priceless hanging tree wine was by special order only.

Kant, the manager, had overseen all projects, and the dead had tried to drag him into the earth for it.

Most of the curse lay with Margot, though. She had become sole owner of the casks after her parents’ deaths. They were her responsibility.

“The police are on their way, as you asked,” Kant said. His voice was low and still slightly shaken. He rubbed his wrist. “I told them there was a death. Six deaths, I suppose.”

“Good.” Margot leaned forward, hands clasped between her knees. She hesitated, then said, “You might want to visit your sister for a few days. Things are going to get messy here.”

He turned his head slightly, a silent question.

“You can now,” Margot added. “Leave, I mean. I tried walking past the property’s boundary, just to be sure. No headache.”

“You broke the curse,” Kant muttered, faintly shocked, faintly amazed.

“I mean…” She rolled her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure I still have work to do, to make it permanent. But yes. We’re on the road there.”

“Work.” He stretched his legs out, exhaling slowly. “What kind?”

“The bodies can’t be kept a secret any longer. Not who they are and not where they were kept.” She’d run over the mental list a half dozen times. It never seemed any less daunting. “The public will need to know. Which, obviously, will destroy everything. The business. The business’s reputation. The reputation of everyone attached.”

Kant made a soft grunting sound of agreement. “It’ll hurt at first, but it’s better to get the ugliness out where everyone can see it.”