Obsidian Curse (22 page)

Chapter 40

It was dark by the time we had carefully dug up and dusted off the skull and placed it in the safe.

Shannon offered to hold it on her lap on the way back to the Geraghty House. She had called Birdie earlier to tell her we had found the obsidian skull and now she was texting that we were on our way home.

I texted Caleb and asked about Chance. Caleb said his brother was working late and that he had just texted to say he had left the construction site to head home and hook up with Caleb for dinner.

I hadn’t eaten all day, so I was thrilled to smell baked ham and sweet potatoes when we got back to the Geraghty House. Lolly was playing a Billie Holiday tune on the piano and Fiona was singing. We all kicked off our muddy shoes and left them on the porch.

Blade and the three witches went to wash up while I wandered into the kitchen to find Birdie. She was setting the table in the dining room, her carnelian hair pinned in a loose bun. She was wearing a long, flowing Indian-style dress with gold embroidery and green beading.

I grabbed some glasses and helped her set the table.

“So now what do we do?” I asked.

“Now we wait.” She grabbed some silverware from a drawer in the buffet. “She’ll know it’s been moved. She’ll come looking for it. When she does, you’ll be ready.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“What if she casts another curse? What then?”

Birdie set the salt and pepper shakers on the table and I opened the cabinet on the far side of the room to fetch the napkins.

“She can’t curse the same family twice, and besides, we have Danu on our side.”

That reminded me. I needed to get my sword and my costume for tomorrow. I didn’t need to go to a store or a rental shop. I just raided Lolly’s wardrobe.

“Any word on Monique?”

Birdie sighed. “I don’t understand why your aunt’s tracking spell didn’t work. But to answer your question, no. We haven’t located her.”

That made me nervous. If it wasn’t Daphne, who else besides Monique would the Leanan Sidhe use as a vessel?

Blade came into the dinning room.

He clasped his hands together. “Well, that’s one mystery solved. One to go.”

“Will you be joining us for dinner, Mr. Knight?” Birdie asked.

“No, I’ll be having dinner with my agent.” He looked at me. “Do you want to get together tonight and go over the reports again?”

I agreed to that and we made plans to meet at the cottage after dinner.

The happy chatter of twelve witches filled the dining room as they discussed their victory and indulged in wine, glazed ham, sweet potato casserole, and green beans. Pickle was perched on a chair in the corner eating a bag of marshmallows, grinning at me.

As I looked around the room, I knew one thing for certain. We weren’t out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.

When I got up to clear my plate, I caught Shannon staring at me.

Everyone escorted me back to the cottage, despite my protests. Shannon volunteered to stay with me until Blade arrived, but I sent her back with the others. The girl was really a pest and I needed to be alone with my thoughts for a few minutes before launching into yet another investigative search.

I leaned the sword against the porch railing and dug my key out. The small safe with the obsidian skull was sitting next to that as I unlocked the door.

Behind me, I heard a branch crack.

I grabbed the sword and whirled around, lunging at a figure in the dark.

It was Adia, the woman who had found the skull.

“Whoa, easy.” She held up her hands. “I come in peace.”

I blew out a sigh and lowered the sword. “Sorry. You startled me.”

“I should know better than to sneak up on a Seeker.” She pulled something out of her coat pocket. “I thought maybe you could use this.” It was the Tibetan skull necklace.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. It’s your talisman.”

She reached her arms up and draped it around my neck. “Nonsense. We’re sisters now. What’s mine is yours.”

I felt myself choke up. I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

She dug into her other pocket and extracted another necklace. It was a Buddhist dharma wheel. The symbol represents discipline, wisdom, and concentration.

“This is from Shannon. She asked me to give it to you.”

I opened my hand and she dropped it in. The piece was heavy, comprised of brass, copper, and pewter.

“The power of three,” Adia said.

She turned to go and I called out, “Tell Shannon thank you for me.” Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad after all.

I draped the dharma around my neck and Adia waved. The weight of all three talismans dangling down my chest lent a certain comfort.

A short while later, Blade showed up and we spread the reports and the notes from Leo across the counter.

We discussed the fact that the University of Illinois seemed to be the common thread to everyone who was interested in
The
Book of Skulls
, including Blade’s father. Was there a connection between the book and the obsidian skull? Neither one of us was certain, but the fact that his father had studied it and it was taken by whoever killed him made it important to at least consider.

“What about a professor?” I asked. “A history teacher or maybe an English lit teacher? Since it seems the obsidian skull legend is known in some circles, there could be a connection leading to the college.”

Blade grabbed his tablet and searched for a list of professors from the years 1970 through 1974, but there wasn’t any information going that far back.

“What about the book? You read it. Was there any mention of an obsidian skull in Silverberg’s novel?”

“No, but it could have been coded.” Blade thought for a moment. “When you had the vision, my father said
they
, right?”

“Right.”

“And there was mention of a reunion.”

I nodded.

“So maybe
they
were members of a fraternity he belonged to?”

“It’s possible. Do you know if he was involved in anything like that?”

The author shook his head. “Not that I can recall. Although he did have an unusual ring I found in his dresser once. I was looking for money to buy a book.”

“What was it?”

Blade looked at me. “A skull with crossbones.”

“Skull and bones, skull and bones.” I rapped my fingers on the counter.
Why did that sound familiar?

Blade said, “Wait a minute. There was a secret fraternity at Yale called Skull and Bones.”

He tapped his tablet a few times and discovered a Wikipedia page on the secret society. Its members included presidents, senators, judges, historians, lawyers, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, presidents of universities, and other influential people.

“It says they stopped publishing their member rosters in 1971,” Blade said.

“So maybe there was a branch chapter at the University of Illinois.”

We searched for a few hours, but found nothing indicating that. And of course, given the nature of secret societies, we wouldn’t.

Late in the evening Blade said, “Well, I’m beat.” He got up and stretched. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I walked him to the door and he turned to me, his face inches from mine. “So I guess we really are a team now.”

“I guess so.”

He lingered at the door a little longer as if he wanted to say something more. Then he thought better of it and said, “Good night, Stacy.”

“Good night, Blade.”

I watched him leave just as Chance’s truck drove by.

It didn’t stop.

Chapter 41

Chance’s phone went straight to voice mail again. I texted Cinnamon and said I was sorry that I didn’t have a chance to pick up Thor and asked if he could stay the night. She wasn’t too happy about it, but she agreed to the arrangement.

I climbed into bed alone.

After work the next day, I spent a good hour getting ready for the reunion. The Batgirl costume I had borrowed from Lolly was perfect for hiding all of my weapons, although Birdie still had my tranquilizer gun. I paced back and forth in the Seeker’s Den, studying the binding spells and practicing calling Pickle. The poor thing was dizzy after the third time I called him, so I stopped. I performed a sacred spell, asking the ancestors to aid me in my quest tonight, and waited for Chance to pick me up.

When he didn’t show, I became alarmed. I called Caleb, who assured me that Chance was just working late, and that he could pick me up.

But if that was the case, why didn’t Chance call me?

Chance’s brother got to my house a little after 8:00 p.m. He was dressed as a vampire and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I climbed into the front seat of the car, shifting my sword so it fell in my lap.

Caleb gave me a funny look. “What’s with the sword? Aren’t you supposed to be Batgirl?”

“Batgirl 2.0. She comes with a sword.”

Caleb shrugged and threw the car into reverse. As it crested the hill that led to the venue, he gave me a sideways glance. “I haven’t seen him with anybody. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

If only. I smiled at him and said, “I appreciate that. I just wish he would have called me.”

Where the hell are you, Chance?
The skull was in my possession, locked safely back in the Seeker’s Den, but still, the fairy mistress hadn’t come forth to claim it.

Why not?

Unless it wasn’t the skull she was after at all. What if Birdie was wrong and all she wanted was to fulfill the curse and destroy another Geraghty?

Or someone a Geraghty loved.

Then a disturbing thought flashed in my mind like a warning bell. It was the night of Samhain. The Leanan might not need a body now. She could just be wearing a disguise. A costume. Because really, since the curse had never been invoked before, how did Birdie know for certain that she would age on this plane? How would anyone know what could really happen?

Caleb dropped me off at the entrance and I entered the building alone. I scanned the room. It was a packed house. Scores of people in costumes were mingling, drinks in hand, chatting up old friends, while the DJ played an Elvis song. It looked like some classmates had opted for a group theme. There were characters from
The Wizard of Oz
, the crew of
Star Trek
, a group of greasers, women in poodle skirts and saddle shoes, and a team of Disney characters.

A pregnant woman dressed as an angel said to me, “Quite a turnout.”

I smiled at her. “Yes it is.”

Her skin was glowing from some sort of translucent powder and she had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Her hands were resting comfortably on her rotund belly.

“When are you due?” I asked.

She looked down, a trace of sadness on her face. “Oh, not for a while.”

Odd. She looked to me like she might need a midwife any moment now.

The woman met my gaze. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “It’s amazing how strong babies are even in the womb. Almost as if they know more than we do. When to eat, when to sleep, when to be born.”

“Children are magical,” I said.

“Indeed. It’s a shame we ever grow up. Peter Pan had it right.” She glanced around the room, then back at me. “That’s what babies are for anyway, to remind us that we’re all born magical. To teach us lessons. It’s just that so few adults listen to the messages children try to tell us.”

She excused herself then and melted into the crowd. I watched as a feather floated off her left wing and drifted to the floor.

I wove through the crowd to the back of the room where the bar was situated. Lolly was dressed as Cinderella, Birdie as a flapper, and Fiona was a sexy cop. Fiona’s section of the bar was six deep with men begging to be arrested.

Birdie caught my eye and waved me over.

“Anything?” she said.

I struggled for a signal, a warning sign that there was danger present, but I felt nothing.

“No.”

“Be alert,” she said and poured a glass of wine for Mickey Mouse.

Lolly was lining up shots, taking one herself now and then, and tweaking them, it seemed, to suit her customers. I watched as she took a pinch of this or that from a tray behind the bar and sprinkled Goddess knows what into various customers’ cocktails. It wasn’t long before James Dean asked Marilyn Monroe to dance, a zombie bride was chewing out a pirate, and a black-and-white-striped inmate was hugging a tearful chambermaid.

Blade and Yvonne came over to me. He was Sherlock Holmes and she was Little Red Riding Hood.

“Great costume,” Blade said to me.

Yvonne let out a squeaky sneeze and grabbed a tissue from her basket.

“Thanks. You guys look great too,” I said.

Blade gave Yvonne a disappointed look. “I wanted her to be Watson. You know, since she’s been my partner in crime all these years.”

The agent rolled her eyes. “What woman wants to dress up as Watson?”

She scooted up to the bar and ordered a hot toddy.

Blade said quietly, “She’s just jealous because I’ve been working so closely with you lately. She likes to think of herself as my right-hand woman.”

“I wouldn’t dream of taking her place,” I said.

Blade glanced around the room. “Where’s your date?”

“He’ll be here. He’s working late.” I hope.

He made a tsk noise. “Foolish man, leaving a woman like you all alone, surrounded by scoundrels and dressed in tights.”

I ignored that comment and asked if he was any closer to solving his personal mystery.

He shrugged. “I guess I know the why. I may never know the who.”

I spotted Roberta and Donald near the edge of the bar. “My money’s on them.”

Blade traced my gaze. “Shall we?” he said, offering his arm.

I nodded and we approached the couple I was certain would be voted Most Likely to Kill Each Other.

Or someone else.

“Ah, Mr. Knight,” Roberta said. “We were just discussing the influence of modern literature on popular culture.”

Donald said, “I think it rots brains.” He sipped his scotch. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Blade flicked his eyes to me.

“And I think it inspires creativity in all its forms,” Roberta said.

Creativity. This time I shot Blade a look. Imaginative thinking could come in very handy for an archeologist. A significant find could lead to a substantial windfall, fame, recognition.

“After all, it was modern fiction that inspired my chosen profession,” Roberta said.

“Oh?” asked Blade.

“Yes. Roberta was telling me just yesterday that it was a novel she read in college that prompted her to enter the field of archeology,” I said.

“It’s called
The
Book of Skulls
. Perhaps you’ve read it?” Roberta asked.

Blade widened his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Nonfiction,” Donald said. “That’s what I prefer. Knowledge.”

Roberta ignored him and continued talking about the book.

Blade asked what prompted her to read it. She flicked her eyes to Donald for just a moment, but I caught it, and Blade did too. We exchanged a glance.

“I cannot recall,” she said.

Someone called my name and I turned to see Cinnamon dressed as a nun. She waved.

I excused myself and fought through the crowd to get to her. Tony joined us, dressed as a priest, and handed his wife a glass of cranberry juice.

“Nice costumes,” I said.

Cinnamon rubbed her swollen belly. “You think?”

“A pregnant nun and a priest? I love it.” I sipped on a soda. “Where’s Thor?”

“I left him over by the buffet table. He was eyeing a tray of chicken wings and I couldn’t get him to budge.”

“Anything new?” I asked, referring to her shopping spree.

“A Peter Pan lunch pail,” she said.

“That’s funny. Someone just mentioned Peter Pan to me,” I said.

Tony grinned and put his arm around Cinnamon. “I think she’s becoming domesticated. I’m all for it.”

Cinnamon punched him in the gut.

“Oh come on, the kitchen’s full of fairy-tale stuff. It’s adorable.”

Cinnamon was about to hit him again, but she doubled over instead.

Tony grabbed her arm. “You okay, honey?”

Cin said, “I’m fine. The baby just kicked me, that’s all. Wasn’t expecting it.” She stood back up.

Tony put his hand on her belly. “Maybe there’s a future football player in there.” He frowned. “Guess I missed it.”

Cinnamon smiled. “I’m sure it’ll happen again.” She raised her glass and pointed. “Someone’s coming over.”

Lucinda was dressed in a gossamer gown with wings attached to the back. She was accompanied by one of the men on Chance’s crew.

“Glad to see you burned that coat,” Lucinda said.

Wes, the man who worked with Chance, said, “I see you’ve met my mother, Stacy.”

“Yes, we’ve met. You’re much better dressed today, Miss Justice,” said Lucinda.

“Thank you. And is this one of your creations?” I motioned to the dress.

Lucinda twirled. She wasn’t wearing skull earrings today. She was wearing tiny fairies in her ears. “From my Shakespeare collection.”

Cinnamon asked, “And who are you supposed to be?”

“Why, the fairy queen, of course.”

Cinnamon bent over again, clutching her stomach. “Man, it’s like the kid’s playing soccer in there.”

I smiled at Lucinda. “Maybe Shakespeare knew something we didn’t. Maybe fairies do exist.”

“Yow!” Cinnamon clutched her stomach.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

Tony said, “You want something to eat?”

“I’m fine. The baby’s just kicking up a storm right now, that’s all.”

Wes said, “Did Chance get here yet? He was supposed to come when he was finished with that kitchen remodel.”

Cinnamon clutched her stomach again. This time she had to hold on to Tony.

I stared at her for a moment, wondering why the baby was so active right now and hoping that it wasn’t something serious.

Then the angel from earlier floated by us. Literally. She was drifting through the crowd, her feet inches from the floor, staring into my eyes. Her words sang through my head.
It’s just that so few adults listen to the messages children try to tell us.
The angel—or rather, as I just realized, the spirit guide—disappeared into the wall.

My mind raced, thinking about all that had transpired these last few days. Was the baby trying to tell us something? Everything that my cousin had bought for the kitchen, completely unbeknownst to her—was it the baby making those purchases, as Cinnamon had suspected? Hadn’t it all started happening around the time the Leanan Sidhe escaped?

Was the child remodeling Cin’s kitchen? I swung my head to Wes, who was chatting with Tony. All the items purchased from eBay—the napkin holder, the clock, the mop, the teapot, the lunch pail—all of them were fairy-tale themed.
Fairy
themed.

I stared at Lucinda, dressed as a fairy, and thought of the baby kicking.

The appliances that seemed to work on their own.

Thor shadowing her,
them
.

All of it was anchored to the kitchen.

And Chance was working late. On a kitchen remodel.

Cinnamon wasn’t developing powers. And it wasn’t her father speaking to her.

It was the baby speaking
through
her. Trying to send us a message.

I ushered Cinnamon away from the group, placed both hands on her belly, and spoke to the baby.

“Fairy.”

My cousin yelped.

“Kitchen remodel.”

She cried out again. “What are you doing?”

“Chance.”

This time I actually saw the foot imprint.

I kissed my cousin’s belly and said, “I’m going to buy you a pony, kid.” To Cinnamon, I said, “You’re not crazy. And you’re not a witch. Give me the keys to your car.”

She snorted. “I would be crazy if I gave you the keys to my car.”

“Fairy.”

She shrieked at another kick and pulled her keys out of her pocket. “Fine. Just knock that off.”

I kissed her, then ran up to Wes. “Where’s the job?”

“What job?”

“The job, the kitchen remodel.”

Cinnamon howled again.

Wes stammered out the address and I raced out of that place so fast, I didn’t see who was following me.