The Beautiful and the Damned

by Jessica Verday

  Cyn was so busy watching for Marv that as she made her way out onto the floor she forgot to look at the customers.

  They got a good look at her, though. Or, at least, one of them did.

  She froze in place when she heard Declan’s voice.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Cyn Hargrave. I’ve been looking for you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as the blood started flowing to her legs again, Cyn kept moving. Features composed, she ignored Declan and went straight for the door.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said.

  She brushed him off like it was nothing more than an unwanted advance. “Sorry, buddy. Not interested.”

  He followed her onto the street, and she glanced around, desperately looking for an escape. She knew he wasn’t going to stop following her.

  An alleyway a couple of feet away offered her an option, and Cyn ducked into it. A jagged-edged broken brick on the ground caught her eye, and she grabbed it, hiding it in the folds of her jacket.

  Declan followed closely behind, and she turned to face him. “I found your little calling card. Stealing is a crime, though. You of all people should know that.”

  “So is murder. I know you had something to do with Hunter’s death.”

  Cyn chose her words carefully. “Why would you think that, Declan? I loved Hunter.”

  “Then why did you gut him in his sleep?” He took a step toward her. “His belly was slit open, and his insides were draped across the bed. There was so much blood that some of the first responders on the scene are still torn up over it. Called it one of the worst crime scenes they’ve ever seen.”

  Cyn’s throat closed up at the memory of all that blood. She couldn’t breathe.

  Declan took another step toward her. “If you loved him, why did you just leave him there to die? Why, Cyn? Why did you do it?”

  “I . . .” She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t get words out past the lump in her throat.

  “I couldn’t even be there. Do you know that?” Declan tugged on the ends of his hair with both hands, running his fingers wildly through it. “I couldn’t go to the funeral. I was sent away so I wouldn’t compromise the case.”

  With every word, he took another step closer to Cyn. His words were like a hammer, beating her down with every syllable.

  He was right—she did kill his brother. She was the monster she said he was.

  Suddenly, Declan lunged at her and shoved her up against the side of the brick building beside her. Placing his forearm against her throat, he pinned her into place.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” he said roughly. “Tell me why I should spare the person who murdered my little brother. The person he said he loved.”

  He spat the word “love” like it left a foul taste in his mouth.

  Cyn just closed her eyes. Let it be quick. And even though I don’t deserve it, please, God, let it be painless.

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “What are you doing? Let go of her!”

  Cyn’s eyes flew open, and she saw a burly guy running toward them. “Let her go!” he shouted again.

  “This isn’t over,” Declan hissed into her ear.

  He dropped his arm and took several steps back. His voice was filled with rage and his hands shook. “I’m going to find you again. And when I do? I’m going to kill you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The guy gave chase to Declan but couldn’t keep up, so he finally returned to Cyn. “Are you okay? I’m gonna call the cops.”

  “No! Don’t! I mean, that’s okay. I’m okay.” Cyn thought fast. “That was just an ex-boyfriend. He found out I was dating his . . . roommate. And he wasn’t happy about it.”

  She gave him a wry grin.

  “Yeah, well, ex-boyfriend or not, that dude is messed up. He shouldn’t be treating you like that. You should still call the cops. Get a restraining order. This one time, my sister—”

  Cyn put up a hand and shook her head. “I won’t be seeing him again. It’ll be fine.”

  He looked doubtful, so she tried another tactic. “Hey, haven’t I seen you before, at the Black Cadillac?” She had no idea if he went to the bar or not but figured by the looks of him that it was a safe-enough bet. “You know Cash, right?”

  “Yeah, I know Cash. We ride together sometimes.”

  “Could you take me there?”

  “I’m not sure if the bar is open—”

  Cyn turned on the charm and smiled up at him. “It’s open.”

  But the lights were out, and the door was locked when they got to the bar. Cyn’s would-be savior gave her a doubtful look. “I don’t think—”

  “Cash!” Cyn banged on the door. “Open up!”

  A light flipped on inside. A second later, the bolt slid free from the other side of the door, and then Cash appeared. “Hey, man.” He greeted the biker and they bumped fists.

  “Do you know her?” The biker asked, turning to Cyn. “Says she knows you.”

  From the other night, Cyn willed him to remember. I was with Thirteen.

  Cash gave her a hard look but then nodded. “Yeah. I know her.”

  “Some guy was messing with her in the alley. I ran him off, but she said she didn’t want to go to the cops. Wanted to come see you instead.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I got this. Thanks for bringing her here.” Cash stood to the side and gestured for Cyn to come in.

  “Thanks for stopping,” Cyn said to the biker, who turned to leave. “You’re a real sweetheart.”

  “Anytime, darlin’. Now, you rethink that whole calling-the-cops thing, okay?”

  Cyn faked a smile and nodded. Cash nodded too and then shut the door. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “I’m fine. He just got his facts mixed up.”

  Cash held up both hands. “Your business, not mine.”

  Cyn glanced over at the bar. “I know it’s early, but how about a drink? I could use one.”

  “Anything you want. It’s on the house.”

  She turned back to say thanks, but he already had his cell phone to his ear. “Thirteen? It’s Cash. Look, I got your girl here at the bar. You need to get down here.” He paused and then said, “The, uh . . . you know, the one.”

  “Cyn,” she yelled. “My name is Cyn. And I can’t believe you fucking called him.”

  She went to the counter and picked out a full bottle of Jack. If he was going to rat her out, then he sure as shit was going to pay for it with some free booze.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Cash said, still on the phone. “We’ll be here.”

  He hung up and wisely stayed on the other side of the room until Thirteen showed. Cyn was halfway through the bottle when he got there. He had a scowl on his face, and the door slammed shut behind him.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with him calling you,” Cyn said, gesturing to Cash. “So you can stop giving me that I-just-fucked-up-your-day look. I have Father Montgomery’s car. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not driving.”

  “Then I’ll walk.”

  “You’re not walking, either. Which means we can stay here until you’ve sobered up, or you can get on my bike and let me take you home. But if we stay? You won’t be doing any more drinking.” He turned to Cash. “Did you have to give her whiskey?”

  Cash shook his head. “Sure. Blame the bartender.”

  “Damn right I will.” Avian turned back to Cyn. “I’ve made an executive decision. You’re coming with me. I can’t trust you around him.”

  Cyn scowled. “Fine. Whatever.”

  Across the room she could see Cash’s smirk as he watched their exchange. She pointed at him. “I’m not going to forget about this, you rat bastard. You owe me a couple more rounds for calling him, and you better believe I’ll be back to collect.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  By the time they made it back to the rectory, cars were starting to fill the church parking lot.

  “Shit,” Thirtee
n said. “I forgot about Father Montgomery’s funeral.”

  They went inside the house, and she kept an eye on the church from an upstairs window. She wanted to pay her respects to the priest, but she didn’t know what faces she might see at the service. Hampton Falls was a small town.

  As the service stretched into the early evening hours, Cyn finally slipped out of the house and went over to the church. One of the double doors was open, and she entered as quietly as she could.

  The sanctuary was overflowing with flowers. Dozens and dozens of them. The scent should have been overpowering—roses, carnations, mums, and lilies all competing against each other—but it wasn’t.

  A priest at the head of the church was leading the congregation through a prayer service, Vespers, if her limited memory of Sunday school when she was younger served her correctly, and Cyn bowed her head, following along as best she could.

  When the prayer ended and the congregation stood, Cyn knew it was time for her to leave. As much as she wanted to tell Father Montgomery one last time how much his kindness truly meant to her, she couldn’t stay.

  It was time to run again.

  Hastily making her exit, Cyn went back to the rectory to grab her plants and her suitcase. She was going to take Father Montgomery’s car and worry about getting more money along the way. If she had to use her mind mojo to do it, then so be it.

  But she didn’t make it out before the church emptied and several nuns descended upon the house. They headed straight for the kitchen. She could hear them talking and clinking dishes, and then the smell of food started spreading.

  Cyn gave it a couple of minutes and then headed back upstairs to the attic. She would wait them out there. Leave once everyone was gone. It was only a minor holdup.

  And if she got lucky, there might even be leftovers in the fridge to take on the road with her as a snack.

  ~ ~ ~

  The sound of music woke her. She must have fallen asleep while waiting in the attic, because the sun had gone down. It was pitch black. Cyn listened for any sign of movement downstairs as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. But the house was still and silent.

  Except for that faint drift of music.

  It was a string instrument—violin?—and she recognized Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. A low note was drawn out, and then it turned into a rapid rise and fall as the strings danced with an audible shiver. It was haunting. The most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

  Cyn followed the sounds outside.

  The opening strains of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” filled the air, rich and deep with their aching simplicity, and chills washed over her. The musician was a master. She could feel his instrument weeping with sadness. It was there in the hum and quiver of every note.

  Closing her eyes, Cyn listened as the music poured through her, invisible notes snaring her in a silken web. The piece was almost unbearable to listen to with all of that passion behind it. When it ended, she was undone. That feeling of being so connected to something outside her body, to something bigger than herself, was something she’d never known she wanted.

  And that scared her more than anything.

  The last few notes still clung to the air when Cyn glanced up. Thirteen was perched on the edge of the church roof with a cello tucked between his knees. The curve of mahogany vivid in the moonlight, strings the color of faded bone.

  Tucking the instrument safely beneath one arm, he jumped to the ground easily. He didn’t seem to see her, until she said, “I didn’t know you played.”

  “I don’t.”

  He carried the cello over to a large black case sitting on the ground. It was the one she’d seen in the attic. He put the bow inside, but his fingers lingered on the neck scroll for just a second before he put the cello away too and snapped the locks on the case shut. “That’s the last time I’ll ever play. I should just get rid of the damn thing.”

  But he left it there and came to join her.

  “Why did you play a Christmas song?” Cyn asked softly.

  He took a long time to answer.

  “It was Father Montgomery’s favorite song. When I found him at the church, he said it was what the angels were singing. I wanted to play it for him one last time.”

  “You sound like you really loved him.”

  “I guess I did.”

  Cyn glanced away and stared down at her feet. “I lost someone I loved too. A couple of months ago, right before I came here. I met this guy after I graduated high school and we moved in together. It was great. He was great.” She smiled. “His name was Hunter.”

  Avian paid close attention. Did this have anything to do with the blood and the police sirens he’d seen in her head?

  “We met because I tried to steal his car. Well, not tried to. I didn’t actually steal it. See, when I really want to take someone’s car, I just make them give it to me. It’s this mind-mojo thing I have. But Hunter had this great Mustang. Rebuilt hemi engine, dual exhaust, and the most amazing red-leather interior you’ve ever seen. Reminded me a lot of this other car that I boosted in Boston.”

  Shelley had had a thing for fast cars too. Liked to take them for joy rides. Got in trouble for it a couple of times. But she always managed to sweet talk her way out of anything serious, and then she would be right back at it as soon as another one caught her eye.

  Cyn kept talking. “So I was going to take his car, but as soon as I looked at him I just lost it. You know? One look and I was head over heels. Completely gone for this guy. We got together right after that. And then . . . he died. So that’s my very long way of saying I know how you feel.”

  Sticking her hands in her pockets, she turned away from him but then turned back again. Almost hesitantly. “Hey . . . I have something for you. I’m going to go get it, okay?”

  She went into the house and returned a couple of minutes later. “Father Montgomery gave me this. But I think you should have it.”

  Avian stared down at the string of rosary beads lying in the palm of her hand. The sight was like an open wound and a healing balm all at the same time. Father Montgomery had carried them with him every day.

  His demon side reacted strongly to the religious artifact—he could feel the burns beneath his skin surfacing, but he kept it in check. Reaching for the beads, he wrapped them around his fist. Ignoring the pain when they touched his skin.

  “Thank you,” he said, glancing at her. “I don’t have anything else to remember him by.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Cyn knew she was in trouble as soon as he looked at her. His brown eyes desperately searching hers. Oh, no. No. This isn’t good.

  He wrapped the beads around his fist like he was a drowning man and they were the only thing that could possibly save him. When he ducked his head and she heard him whisper, “I miss you, Father,” she was lost.

  There was something so seductive about suddenly seeing this big, broody guy showing a vulnerable side that Cyn sucked in a sharp breath. God, it was like watching him nuzzle a puppy. It made her want to hold on and never let go.

  “Yeah, so . . . I have to go. . . .” She stuttered and took a step back. “Um, to the diner on Twenty-fifth. I have to pick up my paycheck.”

  Why was she lying to him? She wasn’t going to the diner, she was running away again.

  “You can use the car,” he offered.

  “Great, thanks.”

  “What about that guy who was harassing you?” he said. “I can follow you if you want me to, make sure that he’s—”

  Hastily, Cyn shook her head. He couldn’t follow her. Then he’d know that she was leaving. “I’ll be fine. Keys on the kitchen table?”

  He nodded, and she had to remind herself not to look back as she walked away from him. Keeping her stride even, she went inside and quickly grabbed the keys.

  Her hands were jittery when she started up the car, and she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to calm down. Everything’s fine. Just go pick up your la
st paycheck from Marv like you said. Might as well get a couple more bucks before you leave town.

  Cyn made her way to the diner, trying not to think about him holding on to those rosary beads.

  The parking lot was full, which meant that inside was going to be a madhouse. Hopefully, she could just slip in, find Marv, get her check, and get out.

  Margaret was on duty and so was Dougie Ray. He looked tired. Not used to the shift change from days to nights to cover for her. As soon as he saw her, he perked right up. “Oh, good, now I don’t have to work a double—”

  Cyn cut him off. “Sorry, Dougie Ray. I’m just here to pick up my check. Family emergency.”

  He muttered something under his breath about inconsiderate people, but Cyn ignored him and headed straight for the kitchen. That’s where she found Marv.

  He was working the fryer and yelling at Lenny, but he stopped long enough to give her an angry look. “Mmmmhmm.”

  “Hey, Marv,” she said. “Busy night. That means good things for the register, right?”

  “It would mean even better things if I was fully staffed,” he barked. “But since you’re not in uniform, I’m guessing that ain’t gonna happen.”

  She made her lower lip go all pouty and started blinking rapidly, trying to look like she was holding back tears. “I just got word that my mom is sick. I hate to leave you short handed, but I have to go back home to Ohio. Tonight.”

  Marv picked up the fry basket from the bubbling grease pit it was submerged in and dumped a dozen golden-brown onion rings onto a waiting plate. “For real?”

  “Yeah, for real. Why would I make something like that up?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “Okay.”

  Cyn felt oddly insulted that he would doubt her. Even though she was lying. “I have to take the bus, so that put a serious dent in my savings. I hate to even ask this, but is there any way I could get an advance? I know it’s early, but it would really help.”

  He looked like he was going to say no, so she started blinking faster. “Please, Marv? You’d be doing me a huge favor.” She had no problem shedding a couple of real tears if she had to.