The Curse Keepers Collection (161 page)

My hand tingled as I shifted my truck into park in the lot on the south side of town. It was nearly noon, which meant the restaurant would be busy with the lunch crowd. Both of the Dare Keeper candidates would probably be too preoccupied to notice me. Thankfully it was full-on tourist season so I would be just one of many customers who went in and out of the sandwich shop across the street. No one would remember me. But sitting outside on the bench again seemed to be pushing my luck. I decided to walk around the shops in the small downtown area while keeping an eye on the restaurant.

The black-haired waitress was working the small patio, but she didn’t look happy about it. I decided to take a chance and, when she had her back to the sidewalk, I brushed past her, rounding to the front of the building.

My grandmother had taught me that I would feel like I was suffocating when I was close to the Dare Keeper—just like I’d felt that time I tried to leave the Outer Banks—but I’d felt nothing other than the lingering tingle in my hand.

She wasn’t the one.

The front door of the restaurant swung open, catapulting me from my thoughts, and the redheaded woman stood in front of it, greeting a couple who were walking up the ramp toward the door.

“Welcome to the New Moon!” Her cheerful voice rang out over the small courtyard.

I felt my chest tighten. What the hell?

I took several steps closer to get a better look at her. Her dark red hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she had on a white polo and a khaki skirt that hit her mid-thigh. She looked nothing like the evil monster she’d been made out to be . . . and yet it was indisputably her. Especially since I felt like an elephant had sat on my chest just from being near her. I reminded myself that looks could be very deceiving. I’d been warned of her power and her goal by my grandmother.
And
a god. This woman was my enemy and I couldn’t forget it.

I waited two more hours, until the lunch crowd thinned out and the black-haired waitress left. She got in her car and drove away, but the tingle in my hand persisted, confirming that the redhead was the perpetrator of my impending demise.

I knew there would be no perfect time to do this and backing out wasn’t an option. I decided to go inside to get a closer look.

When I opened the door to the restaurant, she was behind the counter. Her eyes landed on me as my gaze swept the room. There was only an elderly couple at a table, the redhead, and a tall waitress who looked like a linebacker as she moved toward me, eyeing me up and down as though she had just decided to stop being a vegetarian and I was a filet mignon.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the redhead.

Did this woman—whose nametag read Marlena—know about the curse? Was she screening me for the Dare Keeper? But the more I watched Marlena, the more I realized that what she actually wanted was to set me up with the redhead, who looked like she wanted no part in the plan.

The redhead also looked like she was struggling to breathe as she darted toward the back. I had to put a great deal of effort into keeping my breathing at a normal rate. The fact that she was affected by my presence was further confirmation.

I considered going after her. I couldn’t lose her now, but Marlena took my order—a draft beer. When Marlena came back with my mug, she told me she was getting ready to go on break but the other waitress would finish taking care of me.

Sure enough, the redhead returned with a slightly panicked look on her face. I cursed myself for doing this now. She obviously knew who I was and I’d lost the element of surprise. When Marlena left for her break, I’d make my move. Especially since the older couple appeared to be on the verge of leaving. Then we’d be alone.

The Dare Keeper came out with a pitcher of tea, looking nervous as the older couple got up and moved toward the door. “Thanks for coming in. Have a great day,” she called after them.

She took a step toward me and tripped, the tea in her pitcher sloshing over the side.

This
woman was a threat to humanity?

I studied her as she slowly walked toward me, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

There was no doubt. She was the one.

I gripped my beer mug, my face tingling from hyperventilation, wondering what I should do. When should I make my move? Should I confront her or just grab her hand? Instead, I did nothing as she tossed a bill folder on the table.

“You can pay whenever you’re ready.” Her words came out in a sexy rasp, but I detected a hint of fear. She took two steps back and placed her hand on her chest with a bewildered look, like she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.

I was getting light-headed from the lack of oxygen. I either needed to make a move or leave. Immediately.

I pulled out my wallet and threw some cash on the table, then stood as I returned my billfold to my jeans pocket. I took a step toward her and she backed up into a table.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I said, but I had to force out the words, and they sounded like a growl. While unintended, maybe it would help me get the upper hand.

She watched me with terrified eyes. “I didn’t give it.” Her words were slightly slurred.

I glanced down at her chest and read her nametag. Ellie.

“Thank you,
Ellie
.” I was close to passing out, which would be beyond a bad idea. I needed to get the hell out of there. “Until next time.”

I turned to walk away but realized again that it was now or never. She’d be ready for me if I came back later. I still had a small element of surprise, and I needed to use it to my advantage. I spun around and took in her startled expression as I reached for her right hand, pressing my right palm into hers.

An electrical current shot from my palm, up my arm, and into my chest, jerking my body with the jolt of it.

Then the world faded away and I was one with everything nearby—the plant life, the animals, the
people
.

My mouth dropped open in shock. I was one with the Manitou of every living thing.

But just as quickly, the wonder was replaced by a ripping sound and my head was filled with screams and shrieks from the angry creatures that had been locked away for centuries.

I jerked my hand from hers, glancing down at my burning palm that was now marked with the black lines of a square encompassing a circle. As I rushed out the door, the screams still echoed in my head and I wondered what hell I had just let loose. Not that it mattered.

There was no turning back.

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Photo © 2013 Cathryn Farley Photography

New York Times
bestselling author, Denise Grover Swank, has written ten novels, including the Chosen series and the Rose Gardner mysteries. She was born in Kansas City, Missouri. At nineteen, she became a nomad, living in five cities, four states, and ten houses over the next decade, before returning to her roots. Her hobbies include posting witty Facebook comments and dancing in the kitchen. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads everyone to believe.