The Curse Keepers Collection (57 page)

We climbed the stairs to the second floor, still without seeing anyone. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt and sucked in a deep breath.

“Two thirty-two.” Claire pointed toward a door several feet away. It stood ajar and voices were coming from inside the office. “Do you want me to come inside with you?”

“No. I need to do this myself.” I tried to slow my racing heart. Why had I not come up with a better plan—or any plan at all?

“Okay, I’m going to look up ideas for the centerpieces for my reception on Pinterest while I’m waiting down there pretending I don’t know you.” She pointed toward the end of the hall, raising her phone. “Hallelujah for smartphones.”

“I’ll find you when I’m done.”

She walked past the door and peeked inside before glancing over her shoulder at me with an amused grin.

What did
that
mean?

Just as I was about to knock on the door, a girl shot out of the room, tears streaming down her face. My heart kick-started as I watched her rush toward the stairs.

“Are you going to just bloody stand there or are you coming in?” a gruff voice asked from inside the office. The door was now gaping open.

My head whipped around to face the speaker, and I tried to hide my surprise. Dr. David Preston didn’t even begin to resemble the fusty old professor I’d imagined. The man standing at his desk had to be in his thirties, with dark brown hair and a handsome face. He was tall and even though he had on a long-sleeve dress shirt, it was obvious he didn’t have a beer belly. And his accent suggested he was British.

“Well . . . ?” he asked, looking exasperated as he stuffed several overflowing folders into a messenger bag.

Why couldn’t he be a freaking old fart?

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

He kept his eyes on his bag as he closed the flap. “Sorry, but my Introduction to Native American Cultures classes for the fall are full, and I’m not approving any additional students. You’ll just have to get on the waiting list like all the others, although last I heard, the list is quite lengthy.”

The English accent was throwing me. Talk about a contradiction. An Englishman who specialized in Native American history.

He was staring at me, waiting for an answer. “That’s not why I’m here.” But I understood why there was a waiting list. Dr. David Preston was like a real-life Indiana Jones. Only hotter. And British.

His eyebrows rose. “You don’t look familiar. Are you a history major?”

“No, actually, I’m not a student here at all.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Oh, then my apologies. Over the last two weeks, I’ve been barraged with requests from female undergrads begging to get into my classes. I’ve heard every excuse under the sun, so forgive me for assuming you were in the same position.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and moved around the side of his desk.

“That’s okay. Are you leaving? Your secretary said you had office hours until three.”

“Usually I do, but I’m going on a research trip tomorrow, and I’m leaving early today to take care of some personal business.”

Panic ate at my resolve. “I just drove four hours to see you, Dr. Preston. I really need to ask you a few questions about the Croatan Indians.”

He looked surprised. “I’m honored that you drove all that way, but I don’t have much time to spare at the moment. Perhaps you could make an appointment for when I return to the school in August.” Walking to the door, he waited for me to follow him into the hall so that he could lock his office.

“That will be too late.”

He chuckled as he put his keys into his pants pocket. “The Croatan tribe has been thought to be extinct for over two hundred years. I assure you that five weeks won’t be too late.”

“Please, this is important.”

He looked skeptical, but he tilted his head toward the stairs. “You can accompany me to the exit and ask any questions you can fit into the thirty-second walk.”

Thirty seconds? I had no idea where to start. I hurried to keep up with him as he headed for the staircase, his long legs making the trek even shorter. “Do you know anything about the Croatan gods and spirits?”

“Yes.” I waited for him to expand upon that, but he just gave me a slightly irritated look. “While I admit that my knowledge of their spiritual beliefs is scanty, it would certainly take more than thirty seconds to discuss it.”

When we reached the staircase doorway, I cast a quick glance at Claire. She looked up from her phone with raised eyebrows. I just shrugged and hurried down the stairs after the professor.

I decided to ask him about my most pressing concern first. “Do you know about a spirit that looks like a huge badger and attacks animals, ripping out their internal organs but not eating their meat?”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, narrowing his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Do you know what it is?”

He abruptly started walking again, hurrying for the exit. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’ve heard enough.”

I grabbed his arm. “Dr. Preston,
please
.”

He stopped and looked from my hand to my face, his expression all wariness.

“I promise you that this is important. Have you heard of a spirit that does that?”

“No. Look, Miss . . . ”

“Ellie. Ellie Lancaster.” He tried to pull out of my grasp, but my fingers dug in deeper. “I know this sounds crazy, but you have no idea how important it is for you to tell me what you know.”

“
Ellie
, I suggest that you do an Internet search and perhaps read the book
Indians and English
by Karen Ordahl Kupperman.”

“I already have.”

“Then I’m afraid I won’t be of much help to you.” He pried my fingers off his sleeve.

“Wait! Please!” I begged, digging my cell phone out of my purse. “Can you just look at this photo for me?”

Indecision flickered across his face before he closed his eyes with a sigh and then reopened them, shaking his head. “I’m going to warn you right now that if you’re showing me a naked photo of yourself, I
will
call security and have you arrested.”

I looked up from scanning my photos for the one Claire had taken of my back a week ago. “What? No! God, no.” I handed him the phone. “Here. I know the mark’s faded, but if you zoom in, you can see it better.”

He reluctantly took the phone, pulled a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket, and put them on his nose. “Is this a tattoo?”

“Yes, but it’s henna.”

He rolled his eyes and started to lower the glasses. “Miss Lancaster.”

“Dr. Preston,
please
.”

The desperation in my voice must have swayed him, but he didn’t look happy as he examined the picture. “The symbols look Native American . . . ”

“Can you make out what they mean?”

“Well, yes. They stand for forces of nature.” He pointed to the screen. “The sun, the moon. I believe these symbols in the corners stand for rain and storms.”

“What about the one in the center?”

He tilted his head to the side as he examined the image. “Some obscure texts show that symbol in relation to an Algonquian deity.”

“Okeus.”

His gaze lifted toward me, now tinged with curiosity. “Yes, but very few laypeople know that. Where did you learn of it?”

I ignored his question. “What about all the symbols put together? Are they like our alphabet? When you put a bunch of symbols all together, do they mean something different? Does this tattoo have a deeper meaning?”

He studied me with an expressionless gaze. “Yes.”

For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was getting somewhere. “Really? What?”

He slowly handed the phone back to me. “It means some drunk college kid went out and got a bad henna tattoo during spring break. Now if you’ll excuse me, you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

I followed him toward the exit, tears springing to my eyes as I kept pace with him. “Dr. Preston, this isn’t a joke. I need your help. Do you know the symbol for Ahone? My life depends on it. Please.”

He looked back at me with disgust and pity. “Miss Lancaster, if this isn’t a joke, the only help I can give you is to suggest you check yourself into a hospital for psychiatric screening.” He pushed the door open. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

I watched him walk across the courtyard, my last bit of hope leaving with him.

“That was painful to watch.” Claire had followed us downstairs, and she stood next to me, looking out the glass doors.

“If he won’t help me, I’m as good as dead, Claire. He was my last chance at answers.”

“No, Ellie. You and I both know who you need to go see.”

I hated her for suggesting it, but I supposed there was no way around it.

It was beginning to look like I would have to pay a visit to Collin Dailey.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

I was already having a shitty day, and then my car broke down in the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge when we were almost home. I sat on the side of the road and allowed myself ten minutes of tears while Claire called her fiancé, Drew, to come and get us.

“It could be worse,” she said as we sat on the trunk, watching the cars speed past us as we waited for our rescue. “We could be two hours from Manteo instead of forty minutes.”

“I know.” She was right, but I barely had enough money to pay my rent, let alone the bill for a tow and car repair.

Claire wrapped her arm around my back and pulled my head to her shoulder. “You deserve a good cry. You’ve had a hell of a few weeks.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I said, wiping my face. “Dr. Preston was my Hail Mary plan.”

She turned to face me. “Ellie, you know you need to ask for Collin’s help.”

I shook my head and leaned my arms on my thighs. “He was the one who wanted the gate open in the first place. What makes you think he’d help? He doesn’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, that man doesn’t give two fucks about you. Which is why he sneaks to your front door in the middle of the night to put his protective marks over yours.”

“But I told him I never wanted to see him again. It would be humiliating.”

“How could it be humiliating?” She leaned back and stared into my face with disbelief. “He’s the shithead who made you a buffet for a bunch of vengeful gods. He owes you more than a few marks on your door.”

“Yeah.” Claire was right, and my head knew it, but I wasn’t sure if my heart could handle seeing him. The wound was still too raw. As much as I hated him for what he’d done, I didn’t feel whole without him, which seemed ridiculous given that we’d only known each other for a few weeks, and we’d only been together for less than a week of that time. But I also knew my feeling had more to do with the fact that our souls were bound together than it did with our attachment to each other.

Claire shivered. “This marsh still gives me the creeps.”

“Me too.”

The sun was setting, and a shiver ran down my spine as I watched it bow beneath the clouds. Over the past several nights, I’d noticed a new heaviness in the air for about thirty minutes during the merging of day and night—all shadow, substance, and danger. As the mark on my back faded, I could feel myself becoming more and more vulnerable. The things in the night were getting stronger while I was becoming weaker. It was only a matter of time before they overpowered me.

I had hoped Dr. Preston would know the symbol for Ahone. I had already accepted that I had to permanently etch a protective mark onto my skin. I just needed that final piece of the puzzle. Sure, I could ask Collin, but I couldn’t trust his answer. After all, he was the one who had originally put Okeus’s mark in the center of my henna tattoo.

“Curse Keeper,” a voice hissed.

I jerked upright, a slight tingle in my palm. “Did you hear that?”

Claire looked around, her forehead wrinkling with worry. “Hear what?”

“
Shh
.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the cars whizzing past.

I turned my ear toward the marsh. “Shouldn’t there be some kind of sound? Birds? Bugs?”

Claire’s eyes widened. “Yeah.”

I slid to the ground, my heart racing. How could I be so stupid? This was a wildlife refuge, and the spirits had been targeting animals. “Get in the car.”