Wicked Tempest: A Kate Waters Mystery (Kate Waters Mysteries Book 2) (16 page)

“That same symbol was found on Jim’s neck,” Barry said. “The curse. Jimmy-boy was right. It’s real.”

Nick was speechless. He didn’t exactly know what this meant, what it would mean for Kate.

“Jim had the statue,” Keith said. “He died, and the woman who stole the statue is also dead, both of them struck by lightning, both of them sharing the same mark on the back of their necks. A mark that looks exactly like that? That’s not coincidence, my friend.”

“What does this have to do with Kate?” As far as Nick knew, Keith didn’t know anything about the mark on the back of her neck.

“Your girlfriend found Brooke Jennings’ body.”

“Yeah, so?” Nick said, wanting to ignore the pattern of links forming in his thoughts.

“So she very well could have the statue, dipshit,” Keith said.

“That’s absurd. This statue obsession of yours is screwin’ with your logic. First of all, Kate wouldn’t have stolen the statue—she’s not that kind of person.”

Keith lifted his brow. “Really? You haven’t even banged her yet, and you already know what kind of person she is? You’re either gullible or psychic.”

“I don’t think you know me anymore,” Nick said, tossing the paper back at him. Moving to the other corner of the table, Nick continued. “You’ve changed, Keith. I don’t know how far you’re willing to go with this statue, but you leave Kate alone. She has nothing to do with it. Any details you think you’ve connected together so far have been grounded by hunches only. You don’t have any proof of anything!”

Barry grabbed the bag behind him and continued wrapping artifacts. Unlike Keith, he was at least smart enough to sense when to stay out things, Nick thought.

Keith pursed his lips and walked over to Nick. His face was inches from his. They were both about the same height, 5 feet 9 inches, but Keith had more muscle mass, enough to intimidate a six-foot man.

“If the curse is true, and Kate did steal the statue, then she’ll wear the mark of Rán too. I just figured that was something you might want to know. So, you see? I haven’t changed. Maybe it’s just you who’s changed.”

***

Kate stood in the doorway letting the cold breeze gust into the house. Thea’s accusation had startled her. There was no denying that she had stolen the statue, but how could she accuse her of what she had done herself?

“And you stole it from Brooke,” Kate replied with crossed arms.

“Let me see your neck,” Thea said.

How’d she know, Kate thought? Like a string of ants, a tremor crawled over her. She shut the door and backed herself against it, trying to steady the dizziness that gripped her. The whisper came to her again,
Light in her eye, blood on her hands
. She didn’t know who had said it, if it was all still in her head, or what it meant, but she had assumed at the bar that “her” referred to Rán. Kate wondered now if “her” actually meant Thea. She also realized then that if she had the mark, so did Thea.

“You first,” Kate said.

Thea paused, seemingly to digest her request. Then, she tilted her head and twisted slightly, pulling down the collar of her shirt to reveal a tattoo-looking mark of a red wheel.

Kate stepped closer. “My God.”

“Goddess,” Thea corrected her. She let go of her shirt collar.

Kate showed Thea her neck. “Do you really think these marks are from the curse? I mean, you know how crazy that sounds?”

“The curse is real, Kate.”

Kate turned, walked into the living room, and sat down in a chair. Thea followed, taking a seat on the couch.

“And since you’re not dead,” Thea added, “you must have done some kind of a protection spell.”

“I tried.”

“What do you mean tried? Either you did or you didn’t.” Thea crossed her legs, revealing bare skin beneath the long green skirt she wore. “You can’t treat magic carelessly like Jev did.”

Still feeling bruised from her phone call with David, Kate snapped back at Thea. “Don’t go there tonight, please.”

“Okay.” Thea leaned forward putting her elbows on her thighs. “Look, the statue is cursed, and if you have it, Kate, which I’d be willing to bet my
Book of Shadows
that you do, then you are in grave danger.”

“Then why did
you
take the statue?”

“To protect those who don’t know how to handle its dangerous energy.” Thea stated it as if her question were ridiculous. “Brooke didn’t know what she was doing, and she paid dearly for it.”

“I find it strange that everyone is so suspicious of you, Thea. No one trusts you. I spoke with Suzanne, and while she didn’t throw blame at you, she certainly wasn’t handing out compliments. I sensed she was wary of you. I don’t get how you ever became the priestess of your coven if everyone is afraid of you?”

Thea’s face hardened. At that moment, she looked like she did when Kate had first met her at Jev’s wake—the dark, wicked Thea.

“It’s not a popularity contest. I am priestess because the Goddess chose me.” She lifted up her skirt to show Kate her right thigh. There was a large, melted-looking patch of dark-pink skin the size of hand on the side of her leg.

“What happened?” Kate asked.

“Lightning. We were on the beach, performing a cleansing rite when a bolt of lightning slashed down from the sky. It struck me on the left shoulder and exited out my right leg. Whenever the elements make direct physical contact, and the witch survives, she has been chosen by higher powers. That is how someone becomes the priestess of my coven, and technically, I’m not priestess anymore. Donna is, but she wants to ease into the position.” She dropped her skirt. “Brooke would have been the next priestess had she survived.”

Silence molded itself between them. Kate knew Donna. She was almost killed in a fire that was set by the same man who had killed Jev.

“This isn’t a game,” Thea said, after a brief moment. “Magic is dangerous. People die. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“No, I get it,” Kate replied. And she did. She’d seen and experienced things since Jev’s death that she couldn’t explain, but the curse just seemed so far-fetched. Unbelievable.

Thea pointed to the table behind her by the front door. “Maybe you should lay off the meds for a while.”

“I need them to prevent sleep attacks and hallucinations.”

Thea stood. “There’s a reason you have narcolepsy, Kate. You need those visions, no matter how frightening or inconvenient they are. They may just save your life.” She walked to the front door. “Make sure you burn sage every evening under the statue, have it suspended over a pentacle filled with the elements, one of them containing your own blood, and stay away from alcohol. The Goddess finds it easier to access your thoughts under the influence.” Thea left, shutting the door behind her.

Kate went into the bedroom, relieved that she had at least performed most of the rite properly. She opened a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a bundle of sage. Then she went into the spare room and lit it on a tray beneath the statue. Her eyes avoided looking at it directly. She didn’t want to see the mark on Rán’s chest again, didn’t want to give the curse any more power than she already had.

She caught her reflection in the bedroom window, noticing the faint characteristics of Jev in her eyes and mouth. A mound of grief welled up in her chest, and she pulled the curtain closed. Heading to the front door, she picked up the medication, walked to the kitchen, and tossed it into the trash. Thea wasn’t as mad at her for stealing the statue as she was concerned for her safety. Also, she didn’t ask to take the statue back. Didn’t that count for something? Whatever the whisper she had heard in McKell’s restroom meant, it wasn’t about Thea. It had to have been—

Kate froze at the sight of broken glass on the kitchen floor by the back door. She looked up at the window in the door and saw that the bottom corner had been smashed in. Worse than that was the reflection of a silhouette in a shard of glass, and it was charging at her from behind.

The moment Kate realized her life was in danger, her reflexes jammed from the enormous influx of adrenaline. Shock blinded her senses, arrested the muscles in her legs, and time slowed into a thick curtain of horror.  

She had been standing in the kitchen, reflecting on Thea’s visit, when she noticed broken glass by the backdoor, and the shadow on the wall, one next to hers that moved at a startling pace.

As Kate twisted around, she caught only glimpses of black clothing and hat, a blur of movement, but nothing else before the offender, a strong male, grabbed hold of her arms and drove her right arm up behind her back. She tripped to the floor and slammed her knees and shoulder into the ground. Pain exploded inside her and forced the breath from her lungs. Fear burgeoned in her mind. Someone was going to kill her.

The weight of the man on top of her made it impossible to move. His hands tangled into her hair, hands that were thick and strong. He shoved her face against the floor. Biting pain shot up her nose and into her skull. Warm blood poured from her mouth and down her chin. It tasted like old pennies. Kate cried out.

The man did it again, slamming her head into the floor with a force that incited Kate to fight back. She tried to cushion the blow with her other arm, but she couldn’t free it from beneath the man’s leg. He had her pinned. All she could move were her head and feet, and she kicked as hard as she could. She clawed with her fingers, hoping to tear at his flesh, but couldn’t reach him. Her last option was to headbutt him. As fast as she could manage, Kate drove her head back and cracked it into his. She heard him grunt, and he weakened his hold on her. 

Exploiting that small window of opportunity, Kate kicked her legs and jerked her shoulders wildly. The man cupped his hand around her neck, squeezing into tendons and choking her. Kate cranked her head to the side and bit down on his arm. The man hollered in pain and let go of her. A burst of hope fueled her into action, and she clambered to get off the floor and run for the door.

Kate lunged and crawled away on her knees. She reached for the counter and pulled herself up. Her vision had blurred and all she could see were colors, shapes, and outlines, but she knew the house well enough to make her way to the front door. She ran, but the man was too quick. He snatched hold of her shirt, bunched it in his hands, and jerked her back. She flew off her feet and to the floor. Her head smashed into the corner of the hallway. Light and darkness fused together. The burst of hope she’d had seconds ago drowned with her failing strength. Her senses drained. Pain numbed until there was nothing, only the blackness folding around her…

…and a forest.

Kate had been in the forest before. She had been there after Jev had died, but this time, the forest was different, more sparse. She was in a deep canyon with crisscrossed logs, large granite boulders, and a thin river. A wolf stood on one of the rocks, down the stream, blending into its surroundings. The wolf had appeared to her sometime before. She had believed then, somehow it was an extension of Jev.

The wolf bounded from rock to rock, moving downstream. Kate followed it, jumping from boulder to boulder. She came to a clearing in the trees and a large, dark-blue lake. The wolf waited for her, stood at the edge of the cliff looking down over it. When she approached the rim, the wolf jumped and disappeared into the waters below. Kate knew she was to follow. She took a deep breath and stepped off. Falling, her stomach dropped. She feared hitting the surface, with bone-breaking force, but before she knew it, a cold darkness engulfed her.

The whine of an engine droned through the water. She tried to swim away and down, escape the oncoming boat, but she was all turned around and couldn’t see anything, couldn’t tell up from down.

Something brushed up against her feet, then gripped her arm. Kate wanted to scream, but her voice was fading, growing smaller. Another’s voice streamed into her ear, dream-like. The grip on her arm was now around her waist, pulling her up. Her limbs swayed…being carried, she thought. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t move. Cool air blew across her face. The ding of a car door. The smell of leather. A motor. Then silent blackness again.

***

A machine beeped in the background. Kate breathed in the scent of alcohol and linens. She wriggled her fingers, shifted her legs. The pull of sleep reeled back on her, but she fought against it. She fluttered her eyes open and away from the silent dark and into a punch of fear as her last thoughts came rushing at her—a struggle, someone forcing her down, smashing her head. She blinked her eyes and realized she was flailing in a bed, trying to escape all over again, and still wondering whether or not it had been a dream, like the wolf in the forest.

A bright room with cork-tiled ceiling cued her memory, a hospital. The drone of equipment drew her eyes over to a metal stand with hooks, tubes, and clear liquid-filled bags. She lifted her head, still shaking from the nightmare that apparently hadn’t been a nightmare, and rubbed at her eyes. The tug of the IV needle stung at the top of her hand.

Kate laid her head back down and breathed deeply. Pain pulsed from several areas of her body, her face and head, shoulder, ribs, and knees. She sighed, trying to force the ache out, but it rolled back in. She scanned the room. There was a small TV on the wall at the ceiling in front of her, a chair and bench (no one there, waiting for her to wake), and a small window to her left. It was still dark outside. On the other side of the room by the door, there was a curtain drawn, ceiling-to-floor, in the corner. Her mouth was parched, and she looked over to a tray by her bed, hoping for a cup of water, but there was none, only the sound of it running from behind the curtain. Someone was in the room. Maybe it was David. That was her first thought, and it left a lump in her throat as she remembered their last conversation.

“Hello?” Kate said. Her lip stung when she spoke, and it proved difficult to sound out the words. It must have been split and was now swollen. “David, is that you?” If it were, maybe it meant he still loved her and wanted to be with her.

A man appeared from behind the curtain, and though she was relieved to see her dad, Jack, he wasn’t David.

“Hello, honey.” He came to her bedside, rubbed her forehead, and sat down. His favorite Oregon Beavers sweatshirt peeked from beneath a brown vest, and the Lucky Lab baseball cap shaded his eyes. Brown gray tufts of hair poked out the sides. He hadn’t been crying, but Kate recognized the sadness in his eyes.

“Dad,” she reached for his hand. “What happened?”

He paused for a moment before answering. “You were attacked in your home.”

The whole incident came back to her in flashes, and the feeling that she might die came on strong again. She was overcome with emotion, and her bottom lip trembled as she fought back tears.

Jack squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now.”

Kate nodded, trying to regain her composure. “I remember, only parts of it.”

“Just take it easy. You don’t have to go there now. How do you feel? Are you in pain? I can get the nurse.”

“No, not just yet. My mouth tastes like a sandbox and my lip hurts like hell. I’d love a glass of water and a tissue.”

“Sure.” Jack went behind the curtain and filled up a glass. He came back out, attempting to smile as if everything was going to be all right, but Kate could tell that underneath, he was scared and worried. He reached for a tissue near the bed.

“I must look pretty bad,” she said.

He handed her the glass of water and tissue. “Well, good news is that you don’t have any broken bones. The doctor said you have some mild to moderate contusions and a minor concussion, but that you’ll heal back to normal.”

Kate took a few sips of the water, then dipped the tissue in the glass, and dabbed it on her lip. She laid her head back down on the pillow. Her neck hurt too, but her head ached the worst. Her thoughts drifted back to the wolf and the lake. Why had it felt so real and what did it mean, if anything?

“Do you want me to call David?” Jack asked.

“No,” Kate said. She would tell him when she was ready, which might not be until he came home, if he ever did come home. “No need to worry him. I’ll call him when I’m feeling better.” Because her dad liked David a lot, she thought it best not to say anything about their troubles, and besides, it was the last thing she wanted to discuss.

A nurse opened the door, and she waddled in merrily. “Decided to wake up, did ya?” She pulled the vacuum-sucked IV-bags off the pole and put fresh ones on.

“Detective Wells is here to talk with you when you feel up to it,” Jack said.

“He is?” Kate tried to sit up. The room and bed tilted, and her head swayed to keep things straight. She slumped back down.

“You all right?” the nurse asked.

“I’m fine,” Kate replied. “I want to see Wells. Better to get it over with.”

“Just let me finish your vitals first,” the nurse replied, “and I’ll send him in.” She pressed a few buttons on a machine, restocked a few supplies, checked her pulse, and jotted down the time and her readings on an eraser board before leaving.

“Do you want me to leave the room?” Jack asked.

“No, please stay.”

He smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

Wells came to the door carrying his briefcase. He wore a frazzled expression. Kate sensed it wasn’t all about her.

“You sure you’re up to talking, Kate?” he said, pausing at the doorway.

“Yes, come in.”

“I shouldn’t be very long,” he said.

Jack stood up to give Wells his seat. They shook hands, having met before with Jev’s case.

“No, that’s okay, Jack,” Wells said. “I’ll take a seat on the other side.” Wells walked around her bed and sat in the chair to Kate’s left. He put his briefcase on the floor. “What am I going to do with you?” he said to her, shaking his head. “You need to quit giving me and your dad gray hair.”

Her dad smiled and combed his hair. “Little late for me anymore.”

Kate tried to smile, but it hurt to do so. “It’s not like I planned this.”

“Trouble seems to like you,” Wells said.

“That it does.” Kate noticed something different about Wells’ appearance again. He wore a crisp white shirt beneath a black blazer, a classier style than his usual country button-ups, and she thought she smelled cologne on him. She didn’t know much about his personal life, only that he had a daughter and was divorced, but considering everything he knew about her, she found it odd and thought she should know more. “Detective, is there someone new in your life?”

The question caught him off guard. Wells shifted back in his seat and glanced at Jack with a frown. “That must be your medication talking.” He folded his hands together. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I called your other half, not realizing he was out of town.”

Kate clenched her jaw involuntarily. A shot of pain surged down her neck. She wanted to reprimand Wells for interfering in her well-thought-out strategy to give David the cold shoulder, but decided against it. He didn’t know and was only thinking of her well-being. At her silence, she knew both her dad and Wells had the impression that she wasn’t happy about the phone call.

“That’s okay,” she said. Kate wanted to avoid further discussion of David, and jumped to why Wells was there in the first place. “I didn’t get to see my attacker.”

“I was afraid of that,” Wells replied. “Tell me what you did see.”

Kate studied the ceiling, letting those hard, sharp memories surface, the ones that had just moments ago threatened to escape her with a cry. Her pulse quickened under the racing stream of a fragmented memory, her head pounding on the floor, the man’s hand around her throat, getting up to her feet only to be thrown back down again.

“Just take it slow,” Wells told her. “The details will come if you don’t push them.”

Kate took a deep breath. “The first thing I remember seeing is a shadow next to mine on the wall.”

“So the person was already in the house with you?”

There was a thought ticking in her mind, trying to break into consciousness, and then she remembered it, the glass on the floor. Someone had broken in. For what, she knew instinctively. The statue. “Yes. He was in the house. Right before he attacked me, I found broken glass at the backdoor where he had broken in.”

“And you’re certain it was a male?”

“Yes. He was strong and had a solid frame, medium height, I guess. He was wearing a black hat pulled down low to his eyes, dark pants, and black shoes.”

“Was he wearing gloves?”

“I think so.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

Wells had Kate start from the beginning, and they went through each move and every detail possible. She noticed her dad shifting in his seat a few times, and so tried to curb some of her story without sacrificing important information to Wells. She left out the dream she’d had of the wolf and the lake. There was something else, she thought. Kate touched her head. “Wait…did somebody find me? Because I think I remember being carried and a car door dinging.”

“Nick Bratton brought you to the hospital after he found you in your house,” Wells said. “He said he came to your house, heard you cry out, and found the backdoor broken into.”