Skinbound (5 page)

“I mean a complete physical,” he said, standing.

She tapped her temples. “No, no, if you could just escort me home...”

“I’ll drive you. Liz can follow in your car,” Darcy offered, not about to let Scarlett get the upper hand.

Scarlett glanced at her lavish SUV before meeting Liz’s stone cold glare. “That won’t be necessary,” she sighed, rising from the shore. “I believe I can drive myself after all.”

“Okay, I’ll be over to check on you later.” Darcy stiffly waved goodbye to her sister, fighting the urge to roll all of her fingers into a tight fist—with the exception of the middle one.

****

Darcy gazed at the full moon. “It feels good to be back in dry clothing,” she sighed, leaning against her chair.

“Guess you could be like Scarlett, and just not wear any,” Liz snorted, spearing a marshmallow and thrusting it into the campfire. “I’m sorry. I know she’s your sister, but she’s horrible. How did you
live
with her?”

“She struggles. She’s not well.”

“Ya’ think?” Liz rolled her eyes. “Apparently that voodoo doll your great-grandma gave you doesn’t work on her for some reason, or she’d be a goner.”

Darcy met her gaze. “It’s not voodoo. It’s something else, some kind of gypsy protection spell. Gigi acquired the doll from a gypsy woman when Scarlett and I were just babies. The woman told her my eyes contained ‘the shadow of a bound spirit.’ That’s when she explained the scrimshaw curse to Gigi.”

Liz pressed her marshmallow between two graham crackers. “Yeah, I remember ‘whoever betrays the owner will suffer.’ What I never understood about that legend is, if the curse stays in place even when the doll is separated from its owner, then why
on earth
, hasn’t anything happened to Scarlett? From what you’ve told me, she does a
whole lot
of betraying, and receives
absolutely no
suffering. In fact, it sounds just the opposite, like she’s
blessed
or something. Liz bit into her s’more and grimaced. “
Ugh
. I forgot the chocolate.”

Darcy pondered the never ending string of misfortune ascribed to those who had wronged Scarlett through the years. The gutters were practically filled with colleagues who’d somehow, “screwed her over,” afflicted with everything from bankruptcy to freak accidents. Not to mention her ex-husbands... Too bad this Malcolm guy didn’t get some of the bad mojo, if he was as dangerous as Scarlett made him out to be.

“Did I tell you that protection from Scarlett is the reason Gigi gave me the doll in the first place?” She handed Liz a chocolate square.

“Are you serious? Did your great-grandma tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. It was in her eyes.”

“Are you girls telling
ghost stories
?” Richard asked in a low, shuddering voice, then slid a folding chair next to Liz and grinned, rubbing his hands together.

“Sort of,” Liz said, pulling apart her glued graham crackers, poking in the chocolate.

“Is it a good one?” Cabin asked, sitting down next to Darcy.

“Can I tell them?” Liz asked.

Darcy hesitated. She’d only told a few people about the cursed scrimshaw doll. Of course, it
was
just a legend. As Liz pointed out, Scarlett had never suffered for even one of her countless betrayals, other than her brief stay at the mental hospital.

Liz questioned Darcy with her eyes.

“Okay, go ahead,” she sighed.

Liz grinned and leaned forward in her chair. “Darcy has a cursed doll carved from real whalebone. Her great-grandmother gave it to her for protection when she was little. Scarlett put it in an auction box when they were five, and it recently reappeared on Darcy’s doorstep, via UPS, twenty-five
years
later. A lady named Pam returned it. According to her note, she suffered a multitude of tragedies while it was in her possession.”

Liz paused to look at Darcy, who nodded.

“Legend has it, anyone who betrays the owner will suffer.” Liz smiled and crossed her arms.

“Heavy,” Richard said. “So, Darcy, has anyone ever betrayed you...besides Liz just now giving away your age?”

Darcy gazed into the orange campfire flames. “It seems to have a glitch.”

Liz and Richard dissolved into laughter, snapping Darcy from her trance.

Cabin touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he whispered close to her ear.

“I think I’m ready to go home now,” she answered.

Instantly, he dropped his hand from her shoulder. “I can follow you home if you need me to.” His words came out cold and distant, a contradiction to his eyes which glistened like warm sapphires in the firelight.

“I just live a couple of twists up the road.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “Unless you have a problem with it.”

“I don’t have a problem with it at all.” Darcy puzzled over Cabin’s abrupt change in behavior. It seemed as if he were trying to protect her, and prove his indifference to her at the same time.

They rose from their chairs. Darcy hugged Liz, whispering one more apology for Scarlett into her ear.

“I left the key on the table, in case you need something from the shed. I’ll get it back from you Monday,” Darcy said. “It was nice to meet you, Richard.” She shook his hand before hoisting her bag to her shoulder.

****

“Stay, Lucy.” The dog whimpered as Cabin walked Darcy to her car, then slid behind the wheel of his truck. He drove, shining only his park lights, to keep from blinding Darcy in the rearview. On the short drive he memorized her tag number, treasuring the trivial information more than he should have. Never had he so hungered for a woman’s innermost details. Not since Samantha.

He pulled into Darcy’s driveway, his throat clenching as he blinked away his dead wife’s skeletal image. A groan escaped him, the struggle inside almost more than he could bear. Since morning, Darcy’s vitality had warred with Samantha’s lifelessness. Yet, even now, caught in this miserable chasm somewhere between grief and elation, he didn’t want the day to end.

He took a deep breath, exited his truck, and approached Darcy’s car. Opening her door, he extended his hand.

“Thank you,” she said with a quiet voice as she slid from the seat.

Her supple palm fit perfectly within his hand. He looked into her eyes, impossibly green in the moonlight.

“Did you have any fun today?” she asked, sounding uneasy.

“I had a good time.” He nodded, fighting the urge to tell her how simply being near her had rekindled his long abandoned hope—and how sorry he was for not knowing how to handle it.

“I’m so glad,” she whispered. “I was afraid...because of my sister...”

Cabin shook his head. “Don’t worry about your sister. It’s obvious the resemblance is only skin deep.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Would you like to come in and see my doll?”

“The one your great-grandmother gave you?” He kicked himself for implying she had more than one doll.

“Yes. My scrimshaw doll.”

He picked up her bag, and she led him up the front steps into her home. She flipped on the living room light.

“Please, sit down. I’ll get her.”

He scooted Darcy’s bag beneath the coffee table, dusted the seat of his pants, then sat on the white sofa, wondering what he was doing here, and why he was torturing himself.

She returned with a dark-haired doll in a tattered black dress. “This is Shaw.” Offering a timid smile, she sat next to Cabin and handed him the doll. “Gigi, my great-grandmother, helped me make the dress from her favorite scarf.”

He turned the doll around in his hands, examining the carved bone with interest. “Whalebone, huh?” Feeling a lump beneath the doll’s dress, his fingers paused. “May I?” he asked, tugging at the doll’s clothing with raised eyebrows.

“Sure.” Darcy’s mouth quirked.

Cabin raised the doll’s dress, exposing its yellowed torso. In the center of the chest bloomed an intricate rose. He explored the flower with his fingers, fascinated by the small carving which held more detail than all the doll’s other attributes combined.

“So, it just pulls out a magical Tommy-gun and blasts the person it sees harming you?” he asked, pointing the doll’s arm at a lamp on the end table.

Darcy smiled and shook her head. “Not quite.”

“What is it, then? Is the doll psychic?”

She frowned. “I think it’s more like karma, in a way. It discerns the aura of the betrayer...feeds on the negative thoughts. The betrayer has to knowingly betray the doll’s owner, or at least have intent of wrongdoing. Some trace of malice the doll can pick up on.”

Intent of wrongdoing
. Cabin thought of Samantha, how he’d watched her waste away, nothing but skin stretched over bones at the end. How he hadn’t done anything to help her. He shook away the thoughts, but couldn’t shake the guilt.

“And what sort of…things happen to the betrayer?”

“Oh, it can be anything from a mild annoyance to...worse, depending on the level of betrayal.”

“I’d better watch my step around you,” he spoke to the doll as he straightened its dress. He turned and looked into Darcy’s eyes, haltingly bringing his hand to her face, tracing her features. She closed her eyes. He wanted her, wanted to feel alive again, even though he didn’t deserve to.

“Only true love breaks the spell...” she murmured.

Cabin jerked his hand from her cheek. The movement knocked the doll from his lap, tumbling it onto the hardwood.

Darcy’s eyes sprung open. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How stupid of me to say that—”

A rough bang on the front door caused Darcy to gasp and widen her eyes. She jumped up, scooping the doll from the floor as she crossed the room.

Cabin followed, standing close behind her. She cracked the door open.

“Really? This is how you treat your sister? Your
twin
?” Scarlett pushed past Darcy, into the living room.

“What—”

“You promised to check on me. I had a coughing spasm and very well could have died in that house all by myself.” She shook a cigarette from her pack, looked around the room, then slid it back in.

“May I intervene?” Cabin asked, his piercing gaze aimed at Scarlett. “You’re perfectly fine. I would have sent you to the hospital if I’d thought otherwise. As for the coughing spasm...you can blame those cigarettes for that.”

“Thank you, Dr. Drew. I’ll check into
Celebrity Rehab
right away.” She cackled, her breath reeking of alcohol. She turned to Darcy, snatching the doll from her hand. “Where did you get this?” she demanded. “How many crap-filled Dumpsters did you have to dive into before you found the ridiculous thing? They should’ve buried these dried up bones right along with that crotchety old bat’s.” She pumped the doll’s legs in a suggestive manner and laughed, holding it from reach as Darcy grabbed for it.

Cabin circled Scarlett’s wrists with one hand, twisting the doll free with the other, and handed it to Darcy.

“My, you
are
a strong one.” Scarlett batted her lashes over bloodshot eyes. “I can certainly see why my sister...my
twin
sister...has such a bad case of
Cabin fever
.” She turned on her stilettoed heel and staggered through the doorway, onto the porch. “I hope you can remedy that, doctor.” She laughed as Cabin shut the door.

Darcy nestled the doll’s face into her neck, stroking its hair. “Scarlett makes it so hard. All I want to do is help her. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to be around
this
again.” She motioned from herself to the wall separating her house from Scarlett’s.

“Well, that would screw up my next move.”

“And what’s that?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length, afraid to hold her closer. “A little bird told me you have a birthday coming up.”

She raised her gaze to his. “Yes, I do. Liz,
the magpie
, was right. I’ll turn thirty the Friday after next—along with my charming sister. Right now I can’t stand the thought of sharing
anything
with Scarlett, especially my birthday.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“For what reason?”

He smiled, enjoying the flicker of excitement in her eyes that she was trying to hide.

“You’ll see. I just hope you like surprises,” he said, turning from her.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “I like
good
surprises.” She flipped on the porch light and opened the door.

“Lock the deadbolt,” he instructed.

Cabin glanced over at Scarlett’s house, then strode down the walkway toward his truck, where his dead wife’s memory waited like a ghost, to haunt him.

Chapter Five

“I just don’t know what came over me last night,” Scarlett lamented over her mug of spiked coffee. “Maybe it was Malcolm showing up, combined with the trauma of almost drowning, and the humiliation of losing my bathing suit top in front of everyone... I really don’t know. What I
do
know, is that I’m sorry.” She looked at Darcy, dry-eyed, full lips trembling. “Can you forgive me?”

Darcy stared at her sister, unimpressed with the same old life-long song and dance. But then, she couldn’t help but worry. If something happened to Scarlett, if that creep hurt her…

She was only just now getting to know Scarlett again. Granted, sometimes she wanted to disown her, but she had to believe there was some good in her. She didn’t want to lose her before she had a chance to find out. She forced a smile. “I understand. Just try to be a little more…civil…respectful.”
Human
.

“Point taken. I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” Scarlett promised.

“Let’s just put it behind us,” Darcy said. “You start your new job tomorrow, right?”