Sapphire Curse Read online

  “I’ve gone by his place. There were signs to cause concern.”

  “Signs? House in disarray?”

  “The details aren’t public.”

  “We’re not in public, are we?”

  Lance laughed. The sound was amused and intrigued all at once. “I’ll tell you because you’re new and you need to know to stay on your guard.”

  Russ muttered, “He’s telling you because of your dimples.”

  Lance gave Russ a quick glare before he continued, “There was blood on his porch steps.”

  “A lot?” she asked.

  Now Russ laughed, “You might as well drive her to the scene.”

  “Maybe another day,” said Lance, warmly. “I need to speak to Jasmine since she’s friendly with Randal.”

  “Friendly?” Russ scoffed. “Is that what you call it these days? I call it frisky.”

  “Who’s Jasmine?” asked Darcy.

  Russ answered, “My granddaughter.”

  “Oh,” said Darcy. She tapped on her collarbone. “Just the one?”

  “She’s more than an old man can keep up with,” Russ scoffed.

  Lance said, “Tell Jasmine to come see me. I need to make a couple more stops before running by the hospital.”

  “What are you going to the hospital for?” asked Darcy.

  He smiled and said, “You’re awfully interested in a deputy’s work.”

  “I work there.”

  He pointed at her and said, “You must be Dr. Shaw.”

  “Guilty. I’m heading there now.” She slipped her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans as she turned to Russ. “Thank you for your hospitality. Let me know if Mary—” She peered at him. His eyes had glazed over, and he had gone a bit pale. “Mr. Redwood?”

  “Did you say Shaw?” asked Russ.

  Lance asked, “Any chance you’re related to the Shaw family that used to live here? Priscilla and Ernest?”

  “They were my grandparents,” said Darcy.

  “I didn’t know they had grandkids,” said Lance. “I don’t even know their son’s name.”

  Russ and Darcy said it together. “Carter.”

  “My father,” said Darcy, exchanging a quick glance with Russ. “I inherited their house when my dad passed this year.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Russ, his brow wavering. “About your father. Your grandparents. Everything.”

  “Thank you,” said Darcy with a nod. She sighed. “I better get going. I hope to see you soon.”

  Russ watched from the porch as Lance and Darcy went to their cars. He gave a shaky wave as the cars pulled away. Spokes of light broke through the trees. Five faint spokes crossed over the walkway, pulsing like strobe lights.

  As the cars pulled away, Russ held onto the doorframe for support for his knees that took to quaking. When the gravel driveway was empty except for his own beat up pickup truck, Russ poked out his head and looked up at the fading colors of the afternoon sky. He whispered, “Keep it up, Mary.”

  ξ

  At the end of her shift Darcy made her way to the reception area after checking on Betsy Miller. Ms. Miller was an elderly woman who checked in with a self-diagnosis of a stroke every now and then after she stopped paying for cable tv. She brought food and snacks for the staff. Her bill was always comped.

  Darcy massaged the back of her neck and turned the corner, almost doing a complete three-sixty upon seeing the doctor waving his pen in Tanner’s face. Before she could make her getaway, Tanner caught sight of her and clapped his hands.

  “Dr. Shaw!” Tanner called out, sending out the flare.

  Groaning under her breath, Darcy locked on a smile and headed toward the front desk. Tanner wiped the sweat from his brow as Dr. Porter turned his back to him and faced Darcy.

  Abner Porter was a Cape Emerald native, one of few to move away. He came back, much to the chagrin of those that had been excited to see him leave for medical school. Unlike Darcy, he didn’t walk the halls without his white coat. There was a rumor he showered in it too. His hair was peppered and receded, aging him a few years past his forty.

  Dr. Porter griped, “And what gave you the idea you had the right to run tests on my patients?”

  Darcy started to reply, but he cut her off. He was dramatic about it as he swung his hand. He said, “Don’t deny it.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” said Darcy, crossing her arms at her chest. “When a man comes in with a dart in his intestines that you failed to retrieve, it will dictate a few additional tests.”

  Dr. Porter’s cheeks burned. He said, “I’m referring to a test on an old woman.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Tanner, snapping his fingers. “I meant to tell you, Dr. Porter. Russ Redwood called today and said he’s officially removing you as Mary’s primary care physician.”

  Not even a beach could bake Dr. Porter’s face as red as it was in that moment. “What?”

  Delighted to explain, Tanner said, “He has requested that Dr. Shaw handle all of Mary’s care—past, present, and future.”

  Before Dr. Porter could make a snide remark, Darcy jumped in. “You can have the Radley boy back,” said Darcy. “He’s all fixed up and shouldn’t need anything else. Seems like a good fit, doesn’t it?”

  Dr. Porter gawked at Darcy, quickly shaking his head and searching for a comeback that never came. Unable to rise from the ashes, he stuffed his pen into the pocket of his white coat and walked past Darcy.

  She waved at him though he wasn’t watching and then turned to join Tanner in his snickering.

  “You’re going to run him and his ego out of town,” said Tanner.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Darcy.

  “Let a boy dream!”

  Tanner suddenly stood straight. He ran his hand over his hair and then smoothed out his scrubs. The sudden shift to poised and professional alarmed Darcy at first. Then she twisted at the hip and found a man with a commanding presence striding down the hall toward her.

  Thomas Morgan stopped in front of Darcy. His blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. His face was slender and flat. With thin lips and pillows below hazel eyes, he wasn’t striking or awe-inducing. He did dress sharply in a gray suit, as was expected for the owner of the hospital.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Dr. Shaw,” said Thomas. He said her name slowly and precisely. No matter how careful he was with it, he couldn’t completely subdue his British accent. “I have heard only magnificent things about you.”

  Tanner muttered, “You must not have talked to Dr. Porter.”

  “I try not to,” Thomas admitted. He straightened his fitted jacket. “It’s been a while since we’ve shown our faces and thought we would see how my hospital is running.”

  A woman stepped out from behind him. Thomas was soothed by her touch, his shoulders sinking as he sighed. Like Thomas, she was well dressed. She sported a mustard blazer fitted snuggly at the waist and brown pants that matched her boots.

  Darcy focused on the woman’s heart-shaped face. The woman’s hair was near the scalp and so dark and pristine it had a gleam to it even under the dim hallway light that flickered from a glitch in the power. Darcy’s hand twitched as she gasped, “Winny.”

  Softly, Winny questioned, “Have we met?”

  “No,” said Darcy. She pressed her fingers against her forehead. “Forgive me. It’s been a long week.”

  Winny stepped closer. “You’re flustered,” she said. She lifted her hand to trace her own chin with one finger, revealing a scar on her palm.

  Another glance at Winny made Darcy feel dizzy. She said, “Mr. Morgan, it was a pleasure to meet you. I need some air.”

  “Of course,” he said. He held up his hand, inviting her to leave. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

  Nodding, Darcy turned away and shuffled her feet quickly until she reached the back door. She threw the door open and slammed her back against it once it closed. Images flashed in her mind. There was Winny’s face but not pristine and smiling. Darcy remembered blood. The memory stirred the scent of honeysuckle. She trembled. The more she leaned into her memories, the less she believed them.

  Darcy used her light to bring out the sapphire and metal pendant. It was real too. Somehow Lucia and everyone that crossed Winny’s path had forgotten her—even the cameras—but Darcy remembered. She still felt the sting in her hand from prying the pendant from Winny’s neck with her light. She trusted her mind to remember that night like she trusted it to hear the shriek that rang in the woods.

  Crickets argued in the shadows of the trees. It wasn’t clear what the sound really was or if it was in her head. Darcy tucked the pendant into her jeans as she peered out into the layers of shadows and moonlight. She reached back for the door handle but let go at the sound of another scream, this clearly a man.

  Between her curiosity and her bleeding heart, she couldn’t not follow the cry from the woods. Further into the trees, the light of the moon became broken and sparse. Twice she ran into a tree and had to feel her way into the next patch of light. She waited for another scream to play Marco Polo with her, but the only sound she heard was guttural and deep like that of a dog.

  The rumbling animal sound continued, luring her deeper into the woods until she found a figure in the shadows at the end of a streak of moonlight between two trees. The figure was difficult to make out that low to the ground. The sound it made was muffled, like its mouth was lost in its meal.

  Darcy pressed her clenched fist against her chest as what she thought was an animal pulled back from its prey and moaned, a grizzly sound. The figure moved upward, standing straight. It wasn’t an animal, but surely it wasn’t a person either. As the manlike figure turned into the light, Darcy’s mouth fell open.

  Blood ran down the man’s chin. His hair was as dark as the night, wild and tangling with the shadows. “So you are a fool,” he said. Not even the shadows could hide the reptile look of his eyes.

  3

  Darcy threw up her left hand and prepared for the coming pain. Her fingers curled like claws, but the light didn’t appear right away. The man in the shadows tilted his head. Blood dripped off his chin. Despite the massacre at his mouth, his ivory suit jacket over his fitted black shirt was pristine.

  As blue sparks fizzled on Darcy’s fingers, the man said, “You came into the woods alone, and you can’t even summon your flares.”

  “I heard whoever you killed screaming,” said Darcy, still straining to conjure the light.

  The man put his hands behind his back and leaned forward. He said, “That only makes you dumber.”

  “Was it Randal Mason?”

  “I don’t know their name.”

  “You killed without reason?”

  “I always have a reason,” he said, coolly. “If you must know, I’ll show you my victim.” He disappeared without a sound or even a visible movement.

  “Don’t come near me!” Darcy shouted, still fidgeting with her fingers. “Whatever you are, I can hurt you.”

  He said, “That’s more like foreplay than a threat.” There was a thud like he kicked something sturdy, and a figure lunged from the shadows. It wasn’t a man that hit the ground. It was a bloodied animal.

  Darcy’s throat tensed, but she didn’t cry out. She knelt and reached for the fur. The blood in the moonlight made it appear metallic. The animal was damp at the neck and across its chest.

  “A wolf,” said Darcy, her brow puzzled. “Why did you kill a wolf?”

  “I don’t dance with them,” said the man.

  “The blood is on your mouth. Nowhere else.”

  “I’m not a savage.”

  “Why would you bite a wolf?”

  One corner of the man’s lips curled. Devilishly, he said, “It bit first.”

  “You’re not human,” said Darcy. Instead of putting distance between her and the stranger that had just devoured a wolf, she stood and pressed closer to him.

  He said, “You’re not alarmed that I’m not. That says more about you than me.”

  “What are you?”

  “What do you think I am?”

  Bluntly, she replied, “Dangerous.”

  He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and made them darker, a deep maroon in the shadows. “That’s obvious.” He took a step forward, bringing his body but not his face into the moonlight. “You’ve been told to be afraid of the big bad wolf. The wolf, my dear, is afraid of me.”

  Her back slammed against a tree as the man thrust against her so quickly she didn’t see him coming. The bark bit into her skin but didn’t break it.

  He tucked his chin to catch Darcy’s eye. His eyes weren’t reptilic as Darcy had expected. He wasn’t feral. He stepped back, giving her space. He was merely toying with her to remind her he was a beast. He asked, “Why don’t you scream?”

  “Because you want me to.”

  “That’s not why.”

  “Then you tell me why if you’re a psychic.”

  Shadow from a tree cut across his face. “Something stole it from you,” he whispered. “Something that frightens you even more than the idea of death.”

  Darcy thought she smelled cinnamon. It seemed odd standing there among the trees. She said, “Whatever you are, I know you’re not a psychic.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “If you are, you must like pain.”

  The man flung into the air when blue light popped on the tips of each of Darcy’s fingers and into his stomach. Branches snapped as the man tumbled through them. Darcy swallowed the pain that boiled up into her throat. She never heard the man hit the ground.

  Something snarled behind Darcy. The man’s angered breath rolled on the back of her neck.

  Darcy turned and lifted her chin. The man’s pupils were vertical and thin again. He bit down on his lower lip, gently but still drawing blood that drizzled down his chin in two thin streaks.

  “What are you?” he rattled. His skin audibly sizzled where the light had struck him.

  The light from her fingers as she waved at him gave her cheek a blue cast. She replied, “Dangerous.”

  He started to growl again, but it fumbled away with the fog in his eyes that had been covering the green since Darcy struck him with her light. As the round pupils returned, his voice turned to silk. “Sapphires,” he murmured.

  “What?” Darcy muttered, airily.

  The moonlight finally uncovered every detail of his face, from the scar to the quiver in his lower lip. He whispered, “You are dangerous, ma sirène.”

  The tip of Darcy’s tongue wet her lips. Before she could make words, there was another scream from somewhere in the layers of trees.

  This sound was high-pitched and feminine. It didn’t last long before it broke into giddy laughter. A woman near Darcy’s age jumped into the streak of moonlight nearby with her hand pressed against her chest.

  “Oh, hello,” said the woman at the end of her next laugh. There was depth in her voice like in her curves. She zipped her yellow jacket up to her ribs. “You must be the new doctor in town.”

  “How did you know that?” asked Darcy. She crossed her arms to fight a chill from the air. Her hand accidentally slipped into her sleeve. “Scrubs.”

  “I would’ve known you were new either way,” said the woman. “You’re Dr. Shaw.”

  “Call me Darcy.”

  “Jasmine,” said the woman. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Jasmine strolled toward Darcy. “Hasn’t anybody ever told you not to be by yourself in the woods at night?”

  Darcy started to argue but stopped. She didn’t have to turn around to know the hunter she had stumbled upon was gone. She couldn’t smell cinnamon or feel him on her skin. Though he wasn’t right next to her anymore, he still chilled her.

  Jasmine swayed like she made the rhythm of the breeze. Her dark hair brushed her jawline. She said, “I was out here with Eddie Branch, and he thought he was getting lucky, you know? I knew he made this bet with his friends. I asked him to undress first to get me going. When he was stripped down, I grabbed a picture and threw his clothes in the lake.” She giggled until it hurt.

  “Are you Russ Redwood’s granddaughter?”

  Dancing with her shoulders, Jasmine said, “You’ve heard of me.”

  “Deputy Anders was looking for you.”

  “Dear God. Lance is such a bore. This whole town is. You’ll see soon enough.”

  “I don’t know,” said Darcy, shrugging. “I think this place is hiding a lot of interesting stories.”

  “Come out to the bar with me,” said Jasmine. “Meet some people. Make a story or two yourself.”

  “Oh, um,” said Darcy. She chewed on her tongue and looked into the trees. Nothing stirred or growled. There was no man there in sight. Darcy had a lingering feeling that didn’t mean her new acquaintance wasn’t out there watching her. “My shift is over, so I guess I could.”

  “Great!” Jasmine squealed. She hopped forward and snatched Darcy’s hand. “Now let’s get you out of these scrubs and out on the town.”

  ξ

  Pearl’s was the only bar in town, and because of the high school rivalry with the next county over, it was the only one within an hour that anyone in Cape Emerald would enter. It was a standalone building on a road with a small strip of other businesses—the smoke shop, a laundromat, and an old video rental store that had been converted into a tanning salon. There were always more people at Pearl’s.

  The building was a few decades old. It had a cabin feel on the outside. The inside was a proud shout out to the town with pictures of local heroes, framed newspaper articles, and Cape Emerald High School Ravens memorabilia covering the walls. There were jack-o-lantern string lights over the entrance. Over the metal bar was a row of plastic skeletons, each wearing sunglasses or biker jackets.

  Patting on the bar with the palm of her hand, Jasmine waited for the woman filling a glass of beer to look her way. It was Pearl Radley, the owner of the bar. Her hair was short and bleached. Her face was narrow and delicate which contrasted the sturdier build of her shoulders and hips. She rarely wore makeup but always had her brow penciled in.