Obsidian Curse (18 page)

Chapter 32

Before I went to bed, I tried to contact Cinnamon’s father, but nothing, not even the locket, worked to call him forward. There was just too much on my mind to focus properly, so I shut the light off in the Seeker’s Den.

As I did so, the scrying mirror chimed and I hurried to answer the call.

It was my mother on the line. Again.

She fizzled into view and I read the worry on her face immediately. “Honey, I heard about what’s happening. Are you all right?”

It made me wonder if she had known. If that’s what had been bothering her these past few weeks.

“I’m fine, Mom. Everything’s under control and Birdie called in the cavalry.”

This seemed to relieve her a little bit.

“I’m glad to hear that. Listen, sweetheart, I’ll be out of town for a few days so I won’t be in contact.”

I was glad to hear that. Not that I didn’t enjoy talking to her, but my plate was so full, it was about to crack.

“All right. Anything important?”

She flicked her eyes away as if she was looking at someone else in the room. “No. Just a getaway for two.”

“Well, you and Pearce have fun.”

Pearce was my mother’s boyfriend. He had protected her all those years she was locked away for her crime, and they had fallen hopelessly in love.

We said our good-byes and disconnected the call. I locked up the den and the cottage and fell into bed utterly exhausted.

The alarm sounded far too early for my liking the next morning, but I had a breakfast meeting with the archeologist and I didn’t want to be late.

I borrowed Birdie’s car again and dropped Thor off at
Cinnamon’s
place and he did a perimeter check of her house. Then he stationed himself on her porch, his jaw tight as if he were the secret service. His surveillance equipment was charged and ready to go, and the backup solar chip in his collar would keep it that way. All he needed was a pair of shades.

I passed Monique’s bar on the way to Muddy Waters and saw the owner of the building, Mr. Huckleberry, talking to the chief from the fire department and a man I recognized as a local plumber. Most of the buildings on Main Street weren’t actually owned by the proprietors. They simply rented the space. Still, I hoped Monique had a solid insurance policy for both her apartment and Down and Dirty. I also hoped Fiona had found her and that she wasn’t at the police station right now telling Leo my family had kidnapped her. At some point, I’d have to figure out a way to convince Monique that we were just trying to protect her and hopefully she would offer a reasonable explanation for her absence.

More likely, we were all going to jail, but I pushed that problem to the end of the list.

I ordered a coffee from Iris and grabbed a banana muffin, found a table near the window, and slung my bag over the back of the chair. I was a few minutes early so I pulled the phone out of my bag and opened the recording application. Then I scanned the notes that Gladys had provided.

A blast of cold air blew by me and I looked toward the door, surprised to see both the archeologist, Roberta Rubinski, class of 1970, and the scientist, Donald Yearwood, class of 1969, enter the shop.

They placed an order with Iris and when Roberta turned to give the place a once-over, I waved.

She nodded and both of them joined me. As soon as they arrived at the table, I realized two things. They were older than I had originally thought and they were a couple.

I shook Roberta’s hand and instantly a sharp pain pierced my head. Images of the dead, one after the other, stormed through my brain. Bloodied murder victims, rotting corpses, ancient soldiers spun through my mind like a kaleidoscope of the macabre. And skulls. Lots and lots of skulls flipped through my third eye, all different shapes and sizes. But the smell—the rancid odor of musty tombs, decaying flesh, and bile—nearly made me vomit.

I dropped her hand, and leaned on the chair to steady myself.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. Probably because I haven’t eaten.”

“Or it could be a brain tumor,” said Donald helpfully.

Roberta rolled her eyes. “You think everyone has a brain tumor.”

He shrugged. “It’s what I study. Brains.”

“Why don’t we have a seat,” I said.

I waited for the nausea to pass before I sipped my coffee. What
was
that?

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” I asked.

Neither one protested.

I looked at Roberta, my mind coming back into focus. Was the episode due to her profession? Or something more?

“So, I didn’t realize that you were together. Are you married?” They didn’t share the same last name, so I wasn’t certain.

Roberta scoffed. “Marriage was designed to beat women into submission, trade them like cattle, and keep them chained to a life of servitude.”

“Roberta is a feminist,” Donald said. He took a sip of tea.

Roberta gave her partner a scathing look. “I am no such thing.” To me she said, “I don’t believe in labels. I’m simply a woman of strength and independence. And I loathe that word.” She took a drink of her coffee. “It’s just a polite way to say
bitch
. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh yes,” I said, because I didn’t want to get on Roberta’s bad side. “So tell me about your work. What got you interested in archeology?”

Donald took his jacket off and I noticed the tee shirt he was wearing today had a portrait symbolizing the evolution of man.

“My first year in college, I read a book that changed my life. The characters went on this great adventure and I knew that’s what I wanted to do with my life.”

Now Donald scoffed. “Adventure, my foot.” He turned to me and said, “She dug up dead people for a few years then took a cushy position at a university.”

Roberta tightened her ponytail. “That’s only because I had to support your endless years of schooling.”

Donald pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “At least my work is important. At least it helps people. What does your work do? They can’t get any deader, dear.”

This wasn’t going well. I tried to interrupt, but Roberta was on a warpath.

She puffed up in her chair. “That may be so,
sweetheart
, but at least in my work, people learn something about our culture, human history, the sacrifices made, and the treasures left behind. We can’t move forward without first examining the past. Otherwise, we’re destined to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors.” She looked at me. “Am I right?”

“Quit badgering the girl,” Donald said.

“Why don’t you tell me about your work, Donald?”

He launched into a ten-minute speech about his research in seeking a cure for Alzheimer’s disease, half of which I couldn’t understand.

“That’s fascinating. So do you feel as if you’re close?” Maybe it would help Aunt Lolly, although I suspected her brand of dementia was a flavor all its own.

Roberta tossed her head back and laughed. “Close? Hardly. All he has to show for the past thirty years is a box of dead mice.”

Donald seethed at his life partner. “You based your entire career on a book you didn’t even understand the meaning of. That book wasn’t an adventure. It was a horror story.”

I made a feeble attempt to put this train wreck back on track. “So how did you two get together?” Because honestly, I couldn’t see it. They acted as if they hated each other. How does that happen? And why stay together?

Roberta said, “He was a mistake I made one drunken night at the University of Illinois and I still can’t shake him. He’s like a flea that can’t be killed.”

“Sure I can, but I’d take you with me. Just like the book. A murder-suicide. What do you say? Shall we put us out of our misery?”

“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, Donald.”

Was she serious? She hadn’t said it sarcastically, so I couldn’t be sure.

Donald’s voice softened. “See, I listen to you.”

“Did I miss something?” These two were certifiable.

Roberta sighed. “He’s referring to our first date. He asked what I was reading.”

“And she told me the whole plot.” Donald took Roberta’s hand.

“And what was it called?” I asked.

“
The Book of Skulls
,” they both said.

Chapter 33

I texted Blade and asked him to meet me back at the inn. He said he was having breakfast with his agent, and that he was stopping by the police department to find out what Leo had learned about the original suspects in the case. It was nine o’clock in the morning and he said he could be there in an hour.

There was a lot to discuss. I didn’t know where Blade’s father had gone to college, but I learned that the couple from crazytown went to the University of Illinois. I also wanted to find out who at the bar last night seemed interested in his new novel idea.

Birdie was convinced that the 1978 novel by Silverberg had no link to the Leanan’s obsidian skull, but what if she was wrong? What if there was a connection? Blade’s father had seemed to believe so. Or was he just desperate for answers after the man from the Council had paid him a visit? It made me wonder too when he had first read it. Did he also discover the book in college? And if so, was it assigned for the classroom? Or just a recommendation from a friend?

I sent Blade another text with Roberta’s name and date of birth and told him to pass it on to Leo as a possible suspect. Then I swung the car around and headed toward Tony’s auto shop.

Monique’s car was still there, the flat tire fixed. I wondered if she was back at the inn now.

I pulled the car over to the next street, keeping an eye out for insurgents, and parked.

I crept through the weeded lot next door, saw my hunk of metal still crippled, and circled around to the back window. Peeking through the dirty glass, I saw Tony firmly lodged beneath a Toyota.

Perfect. I duckwalked around the side of the building until I got to the corner. I craned my neck around and spotted Daphne bent over the hood of a Mustang.

I was just about to pull out the binding spell from the back pocket of my jeans when my stupid phone rang.

I whipped it out and shut the ringer off, then turned the phone off completely, but it was too late.

She turned her head to the side and when she saw me, she stood up so fast she banged it on the hood of the car.

“Oof,” she said, rubbing her head.

The bartender stepped away from the car and said, “Oh, hi.”

It was cold outside and her cheeks flushed. She shuffled from one foot to the other, nervously.

Good. You should be scared,
I thought.

“Hi,” I said.

I walked toward her slowly, wishing I had my sword, but it was still back at the office, still unconsecrated.

“Stacy, right?”

As if you didn’t know.

“That’s correct.”

She said, “You have the red Fiat?”

I nodded.

“I don’t think your car is repairable. Tough break.”

“Yeah, tough break.”

She gave an uneasy laugh and pointed to the garage. “Tony’s in there if you want to talk to him.”

“Actually, I came to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

Daphne smiled at me and something shifted within her. She seemed to relax a bit. She wiped her hands on a towel and stuffed it in her back pocket.

“I heard your car broke down yesterday. A man gave you a lift?”

She shrugged. “I know, ironic, right? A mechanic who can’t fix her own car. What are the odds?”

“Not very good.”

“So how’d you hear about that?”

“Small town.”

She stepped toward me.

“So what, you want to be my chauffeur?” Her eyes glinted in the morning sunlight, sparkling almost. Like fool’s gold.

“Actually, yes.”

I’ll drive your ass right back to the Otherworld, you bloodthirsty ghoul.

She looked at her watch. “Well, I take my lunch at noon. You can show me around town.”

I glanced back toward the garage. “Tony doesn’t seem to need any help. How about we go for a drive now?”

She glanced around the parking lot. “I guess I could take a break.”

We were both playing the game, both dancing around the fact that what we wanted were two very different things. For a moment I hesitated, wondering what she might have up her sleeve. Wondering where her army was or if we had captured them all. Wondering too how powerful she was. She didn’t seem too leery of me anymore. In fact, she seemed downright delighted.

But she didn’t know one crucial component of what made me tick. That I would do anything for the people I loved.

“After you.” I motioned toward the street and we walked to the car. I opened her door and she hesitated before she climbed in. Her eyes stared into mine. “I guess you work fast.”

“Fast and efficient, that’s me.”

“We’ll see about that,” said the Leanan, wickedly.

We pulled up to the inn a few moments later.

She looked out the window at the house and whistled. “Nice place. The Geraghtys have done well.”

I followed her up the steps to the inn, keeping a close eye on her, while scanning the yard for soldiers.

On the porch, she turned and said, “Let’s not go in just yet.”

“Why not?”

She lifted her head to the sky and raised her arms. “It’s nice out here.” Her voice deepened and she stared me down. “I like to play outside. Don’t you like to play outside?”

She trailed her fingers along a pumpkin that sat on the porch railing, then she fluttered them through her thick black hair. Her powers were connected to her sexuality and I could feel her stirring them up.

But I wasn’t going to fall for her tricks. I held my eyes steady, waiting for her to make a move. She took two steps toward me and I tensed. “Or we could go in, but I have to warn you.” She ran a fingernail along my cheek, and whispered in my ear, “It might get messy.”

She lunged at me suddenly, her mouth going for my neck. I pulled out the tranquilizer gun and shot her.

She collapsed on the porch in a heap.

“My darts are effective,” I said, stepping over her.