The Curse Keepers Collection (74 page)

“It sure couldn’t hurt to try it, right?”

“I thought dream catchers were from Southwestern Indians.”

He shook his head and took another drink. “Nope. They’re traced to the Ojibwa.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“They belong to the Algonquian.” He waved his glass. “Although this tribe lived up north. And in Canada.”

I tried not to laugh. “Canada
is
up north.” David was getting thoroughly sauced.

“We’ll get you a dream catcher tomorrow and see if it works.” His eyes pierced mine. “I’ll help you fight these creatures, Ellie.”

“This isn’t your fight, David. You didn’t ask to be part of it. All I need from you is information, and then you can walk away.”

“Did you ask to be a part of this?”

“No.”

“Then how is it
your
fight? Sure you were born to it, but you could walk away from it just like Collin has.”

“I guess. But I won’t.”

“Do you believe in fate, Ellie? Destiny?”

I took another sip to stall. “I don’t know. Maybe. I dismissed it, but then I think about the fact that I’m a pure soul and Collin says those occur once every several hundred years. It can’t be a coincidence that I’m a pure soul and the Curse Keeper to witness the breaking of the curse.”

“Is there any way Collin knew you were a pure soul when he broke the curse?”

“No, he said he discovered it by accident when we joined hands.”

“You actually believe him?”

“Well, the first time we touched marks—accidently—he said he could sense that I was a pure spirit, but he didn’t tell me until . . . later.” I paused, the familiar sense of loss filling every part of me. “After I’d seen creation and Wapi had terrorized me in the ocean, Collin must have realized the full significance of what he’d done. He begged me to make the mark permanent. He claims he never would have put me at risk by opening the gate if he’d known, and oddly enough, I believe him. He cares about me in his own way.”

David turned sideways, watching me with a strange look in his eyes. “You slept with him.”

My face burned. “That’s a personal question.”

“I can see it in your face when you talk about him.”

“That I slept with him?”

“That you care about him.”

I shook my head, gritting my teeth. “He had his chance. I can never forgive him for what he did.”

“That prat really left you in a lurch, didn’t he?”

I had to laugh at his word choice. “Yeah.”

“What a wanker.”

“Among other things.”

David set his glass on the table and turned back to me. “I asked you if you believe in destiny.” He swallowed and looked down at my open palm, then into my face. “Well, I do. I almost didn’t get my doctorate in Native American studies. My father kept trying to convince me to be a barrister. He said I’d never make much money living in the States and teaching history. Even my American mother didn’t want to lose me to the States, as she put it. But something told me it was the right decision. And then this archaeological site.” He waved toward the front door. “I wasn’t supposed to be here, Ellie. I couldn’t get my schedule cleared to make it happen and then suddenly it worked out.” A burning intensity filled his eyes.

“You think this is destiny? They could all be coincidences that brought you to a
very bad place
.” I sighed. “Look, David. You’re drunk, and you can’t make this decision lightly. I have a guilty enough conscience as it is.”

“Fair enough,” he drained the last of his glass and then set it on the table. “You’re right. I need to give this serious thought.” He startled me by grabbing my chin and swinging my face around to his. “But I promise you this: if I decide to help you, I’m totally in. I won’t leave you to face this alone.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to find the words to respond. I didn’t trust his promise. I’d lost too many significant people in my life to believe such promises could be made.

Finally I smiled and said the only thing I could bring myself to say.

“We’ll see about that.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

David had a headache when he woke up. After he took a shower and dressed, I asked him how he felt and he said, “I’m surprised I’m not still wankered.”

If “wankered” meant drunk, I was impressed. He’d sucked down the equivalent of four shots of whiskey in about ten minutes, less than four hours ago.

I dug through my salvageable laundry for something to wear for my lunch shift at Darrell’s and then bagged up the clothes that had landed in the blood for relaundering.

David was drinking a cup of coffee when I entered the living room.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

We had barely seen each other while we were getting ready, but on the walk to the inn, everything we weren’t saying hung like a heavy cloud over both of us.

“Ellie—”

“Look, David—”

We spoke at the same time and I smiled. “Let me say this first.” I turned to look up at him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I really want you to give this serious thought today, okay? This isn’t a game and it’s not a challenge. If you decide you want to walk away, I’ll understand. Honestly, I think you’re crazy if you decide not to.”

He stopped in front of a Mexican restaurant and turned to face me. “What happened last night seems like a bad dream, and getting pissed on whiskey didn’t help matters much, but I know that all of this is real. And I promise to give it serious thought and consideration. I’ll give you an answer tonight after I get back from the colony site.”

“You can take longer than that.”

He shook his head. “That’s all I’ll need.”

We didn’t speak the rest of the way until we went through the side door. He leaned close, lowering his voice. “I’ll keep my eye out for anything I think will help you, whether I decide I’m in this or not.”

“Thank you.” I watched him walk away, feeling guilty about what I hoped he chose.

David headed for the living room with his laptop, and I snuck into the laundry room to pretreat my bloody clothes on the table by the washing machine.

“Oh, dear God,” Myra gasped from behind me. “What happened?”

I dropped the heavily bloodstained shirt and spun around. “It’s not how it looks.”

Tears filled her eyes. “It looks like the night you came home after your father died.”

That night, I’d been covered in my blood and Collin’s from the slashes on our palms. Unsure of where to go, I’d come straight to Myra’s house. I’d scared her half to death, still in too much shock to give her a rational account of what had happened. When I kept crying for Daddy, she rushed upstairs to check on him and was terrified to discover he was missing from his bed. Looking me in the eye, she asked if I knew what happened to him. When I nodded yes, she asked if he was alive and I refused to answer. It was no wonder the blood upset her.

“No, Myra.” I shook my head, picking the shirt back up. “It’s not my blood. I promise.”

“Whose . . . ?” I know she hated to ask, but she needed to know.

“A cat. That
monster
left it on my front porch. It scared me when I saw the mess, and I dropped the laundry basket. The clothes fell in the splattered blood.”

Some of the color returned to her face. “I think we should move.”

“
What?
”

“It’s too dangerous for you here, Ellie. We should go somewhere else.”

I turned back to my laundry. “You know that won’t help, Myra. These things will find me wherever I am.”

Her arms wrapped around me and she trembled.

“I need to stay here, but you should leave.”

Her eyes bulged. “Leave
you
?”

“You think it’s bad now? This is only the beginning. And they’re going to target you and Claire to get to me.”

Myra’s face paled.

Why had I been so blunt? I needed to protect her from this, not scare her to death. “It’s going to be okay. David thinks he has some information that can help me.”

“He’s offered to help you?”

“I’m making him think about it before he commits.”

“It makes me feel better that you won’t be alone.”

The thought made me feel better too, selfish though it was. “Do you need help with breakfast?”

“No, I’ve got it covered for now, but you can take the cinnamon rolls out when they’re done.” She started to leave the room but stopped in the doorway. “Ellie, one more thing. If you come across an old ring, hold onto it. Your father showed it to me a few days before he died and told me that you needed it.” She looked down at her feet. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. Even though he seemed fairly lucid, he was acting paranoid. He was quite upset that you didn’t have it.”

My heart lurched. “Where is the ring now?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I tried to take it for safekeeping, but he refused to let go of it. He insisted he’d give it to you himself. He’d been scribbling drawings of those symbols and scratching down notes, so I just chalked it up to his dementia. Now I’m worried you might actually need it.”

“He was scribbling notes?”

“Yeah, on little scraps of paper.”

What if those notes had the information I needed? “What did the ring look like? Do you know where he usually kept it?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’d never seen it before, but it looked very old and worn. He had it on a chain around his neck. There was another object you needed too, he said, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He started muttering something about you needing time.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Maybe he was worried you were running out of time?”

“And you have no idea where the ring might be?”

“No. I’m sorry. He was on the front porch when I saw it.”

I tried to hide my disappointment and focus on the positive. There was a ring that could help me somehow, along with the notes my father had written down. The ring and the notes had to be here somewhere. I just had to find them, and hopefully, the notes would tell me about the other object he’d mentioned.

When I finished in the laundry room, I headed to the kitchen and took the cinnamon rolls and fruit over to the sideboard. Several of the researchers had already gathered in the dining room. David walked in just as I was finishing up, and his friend called out to him, “David! We missed you last night.”

“I decided to call it an early night.”

“I knocked on your door when we got back around dark and you didn’t answer.”

“I walked downtown to get dinner. Poor Richard’s has great sandwiches.”

“Are you feeling all right? You look tired.”

David gave a halfhearted laugh. “You know how it is when you sleep in a bed that’s not your own.”

Or in this case sitting up on a sofa. We’d slept there together. After drinking copiously.

Feeling reassured that they had everything they needed, I went into the kitchen to clean up. I was halfway done with the dishes when David appeared in the doorway of the butler’s pantry. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

He moved toward me, concern in his eyes. “This morning has been . . . awkward, and I feel rude for ignoring you in there.”

I put the pot I was scrubbing under the water to rinse. “It’s probably better that you do. You’ll make them all suspicious if they know you spent the night with me.”

“In more ways than one,” he conceded. “Steven would consider it greatly out of character.”

My eyes widened as I realized what he was hinting. “Oh, you’re gay.” I shook my head, feeling like fool. “With all those girls after you at your college, I just thought—”

“What? No!” Horror filled his eyes. “No, I’m not gay.” He frowned. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, but I can assure you that I’m not.”

My faced flushed. “Oh.”

“Me sleeping with a woman I just met would be completely out of character. I know we didn’t
sleep
together.” His face turned bright red. “But they don’t know that. It’s probably best to keep it quiet.”

“Okay.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “Bollocks. Now it sounds like I’d be ashamed if they thought I’d slept with you.” His eyes flew open. “Which I wouldn’t be. You are a very attractive woman, Ellie, and I would love nothing more than to . . . ” His voice trailed off and he took a step backward, pointing over his shoulder toward the door. “I think I should stop talking now. Perhaps I should just go.”