The Darkness of Sable

by Faith Bicknell

  “It’s okay.” He smiled. “I only meant that maybe a makeover would improve your mood and prepare you for tomorrow’s gala.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, that does sound nice.”

  He rose and walked to the balcony door. In hopes of helping her relieve stress, he parted the curtains again, their hooks making a low, metallic screech along the rod. Once he had them shoved aside, he opened the doors and pushed them wide. The sounds of Naples’ nightlife drifted in on the breeze.

  “Let’s finish our coffee on the balcony,” Thomas said. “The nighttime view is beautiful. You can smell the ocean on the wind.”

  “It doesn’t smell like dead fish?” she joked.

  Her sense of humor never failed to make him laugh. Chuckling, he replied, “No, it’s fresh, briny.”

  She stepped outside with their cups and the carafe. A small wrought-iron table and four chairs sat on the right. Thomas pulled a chair out for her, but she shook her head and set his cup and the pot on the table.

  “I want to watch the city lights for a few minutes,” she said. Sable cradled her cup between her hands and stared out across the dark metropolis with all its twinkling electric stars.

  The memory of what it had felt like to hold her when she’d slapped him stirred a longing in Thomas. Just the fact that she’d placed her hand on his leg had made him want her. He hadn’t felt such attraction to a woman for quite some time. She’d been wonderfully warm, her form delicate yet strong, and she’d smelled of lemon bubble bath and her own womanly aroma that had set his pulse to racing. Desire grew within Thomas, his groin stirring, but he willed it to remain quiet. He couldn’t get involved with Sable. It was his duty to protect her from the New Order, and if he became emotionally involved, it could cloud his judgment and put her in worse jeopardy.

  He sat at the table and crossed his legs, observing her while she stared out into the night. Was it possible Cheyenne was out there somewhere? The vastness of the earth and the millions of communities, cultures, religions, alternate worlds, and dimensions scattered across it urged Thomas’s head to spin. The Old World had clues that Cheyenne was alive, but her location remained a mystery.

  He didn’t always trust the Old World’s reasons and tactics, but he understood their need to keep the New Order under their thumb. The New Order wanted to blend with human society, but they were going about it the wrong way by stealing mortals and converting them to increase the New Paranorm’s numbers, which was what he suspected had happened to Cheyenne.

  Humans weren’t ready to live side by side with things that went bump in the night. The Old World only gave him information on a need-to-know basis, but Thomas would bet his last dollar the whole situation was on the verge of exploding. Regardless, he had to protect Sable until the Old World could determine what Sable’s powers were going to do, if anything, and keep the New Paranorms at bay until then.

  He let his gaze wander over the outline of her round ass beneath her cotton gown. The breeze tossed her long mane of damp hair that always reminded him of the Lady Godiva legend. Although nothing like his voluptuous Ra-Aysha or the handful of full-figured women he’d slept with over the years, something about her drew him, enticed him. At six-foot-one, Sable was statuesque, long-limbed, and regal-looking. She was a woman who could easily step back in time, don Grecian attire and sandals, and recline on a chaise as a servant fed her fruit and poured her wine.

  He gulped. Yes, he had to remain detached. Now if only he could convince his libido of that fact.

  She placed her mug on the wall encircling the balcony and watched the lights flicker and sparkle. The tenth floor provided a nice view, but they weren’t so high she couldn’t detect the changing traffic lights, the sweep of headlights rounding corners, turn signals, and the red pinpoints indicating applied brakes. Below, the courtyard boasted an oval swimming pool. The submerged lamps brightened the water, and the pool shimmered in opal brilliance. A few guests still lounged poolside and frolicked in the water.

  Such a long way down…it would be so easy to just let yourself go.

  “Do it…!”

  “Did you say something?” she asked Thomas.

  His eyes glimmered in the pale light pouring from her suite. He set his cup down and reached for the carafe. “No, I was just sitting here thinking and enjoying the breeze.”

  She shrugged, returning her attention to the courtyard below. The hotel lights revealed the palm trees and tropical flora and fauna in startling clarity. She knew how it felt to be in such brightness. One downside to her fame was the constant limelight. Sometimes she wished she could go back to being a nobody, back to the time before her entire life had turned upside down and crashed in on her in a landslide of sadness, fear, disappointment, and confusion.

  The banister’s surface prickled her palms. She leaned over, gripping the edge, her hips planted snugly against it so she could safely peer down at the couples dancing slowly on the adjoining patio. Faintly, she caught strains of a romantic song played by the hotel band.

  “What are you waiting for? Do it!”

  She looked over her shoulder at Thomas. “What did you just say?”

  With his cup halfway to his mouth, he paused. “I didn’t say anything.” The telltale line of concern etched itself between his brows. “Are you okay?”

  “I think I just need a good night’s sleep.”

  A chill rippled over her body. She tugged her robe tighter despite the balmy temperature.

  “Do you want me to stay on your sofa instead of going back to my suite?” he asked. “Will that make you feel better?”

  For some reason, his innocent question shot a thrill to her core.

  “Unless you want me to keep you company,” he joked, but a slight teasing tone lurked in his voice, making it deeper, richer.

  She realized he was simply jesting with her, and the tension eased from her body.

  “Seriously, are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m—”

  “What are you waiting for? Jump! Jump now! End all the misery!”

  She froze, her gaze darting from the pool below to the side of the terrace and back to the safety of the doors. She tried to manage a calm tone, and said, “On second thought, let’s go inside. I’d like to finish my sandwich and go to bed.”

  She strode past him, waited, and after he entered the suite behind her, she shut and locked the doors.

  Chapter Five

  Impacts

  T he following morning, Thomas stepped into a pair of slacks, donned thin dress socks, and opened the closet to select a shirt. A flash of light followed by a sizzling pop startled him. He stumbled back from the door, hands raised to ward off whatever might jump out in front of him.

  Another flash of light followed. The innards of the closet brightened as if a low-watt bulb had been switched on. Realizing what was happening, Thomas relaxed and waited for the communication orb to finish materializing. The ball of radiance solidified and transformed from one hue to another. Thomas smirked. The darn things always put him in mind of those glass-gazing balls he often saw in fancy flower gardens, but he always kept his comment to himself. The Old World Paranorms were easily insulted.

  “Valimar,” a whispery male voice said. “How is the mortal, Sable?”

  “Something isn’t right,” he replied. With his words, he suddenly realized just how uneasy he’d been since arriving in Naples. “Sable is truly troubled and ill at ease.”

  “Is the source of her worry paranormal?” the voice asked.

  “I believe so. She’s having nightmares, but they’re not typical bad dreams.” Thomas leaned against the open closet door. “And last night, when she was taking a bath, I heard her scream. When I questioned her, she said she’d dozed off and startled awake, but I sensed there was more to it. Something frightened her so badly after she retired that the neighboring hotel guests heard her and reported it to the front desk.”

  A sigh drifted out of the orb. Its soft pink hue morphed into red
and scarlet. “That is why I was told to check in with you, Valimar. The Judges have detected something sinister closing in on Sable. There is a shift in power, and it isn’t coming from her.”

  “You mean something unfamiliar? Something besides the New Paranorms seeking her for her magic?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?” he questioned, dread filling his heart. “Is it Fey? Demonic? Are the Vampires after her?”

  “No.” The orb spun left and then right before stabilizing. “The Judges can’t determine what it is, but they say it’s very old.”

  “Old?” Frowning, Thomas quickly riffled through his memory banks. “What could be so old it confuses the Judges? What’s older than the essence of every legend known to man?”

  “The Judges are very worried about this, Valimar. If Sable is wooed to the darkness…” The voice faded, as if its owner was searching for the perfect words.

  “Go on.”

  “The Judges sense Sable has an ability that can be used to wreak havoc on both mortals and Paranorms, so it’s essential she’s more heavily guarded. They’re talking of sending in a Paranorm to help you with this case.”

  “Then why don’t the Judges take her into custody?” he asked, his irritation mounting. “Why all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense?”

  “If Sable does not know she possesses magic, then she is to remain in the human world.”

  “That sort of reasoning is what gets people killed,” Thomas barked. He turned, strode toward the bed, spun on his heel, and stalked back to the closet with his hands out to his sides. “What’s the point of teaching humans about the Old World if they end up dead?”

  “That’s why we have Paranormal Marshals like you, Valimar,” the voice said. The orb flared a dark green with mottled red swirls in it. “You’re the best, but even the best can be caught off guard. Keep her safe.”

  The door to the adjoining suite burst open.

  “Thomas,” Sable called, “I’m going downstairs. The limo is waiting to take me to my salon appointment.”

  He jumped and slammed the closet door shut. Whipping around, he looked at Sable, who stared back with a wide-eyed expression.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her tone worried.

  “I’m fine.” Thomas laughed nervously. “You just scared the hell out of me. I guess I was…uh…standing here daydreaming.” He gulped and willed his heart to stop galloping. “Do you plan on being gone all day?”

  A frown marred her smooth brow. “Well, I thought I’d just take the day as it comes.” She swept her gaze over him, and a warm light settled in her eyes. “We have that gala tonight, so maybe a day of pampering and shopping will relax me.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He feigned a smile.

  The way she was looking at him stoked a fire in his slacks. Her attention seemed to linger on his chest and shoulders. His awakening groin not only served to fluster him, but also irked him at the inopportune moment it chose to do so. He stepped over to the low dresser, his back to Sable, and opened a drawer.

  Pulling an undershirt over his head and slipping his arms through the holes, he asked, “Do you want to meet somewhere for lunch?”

  “How about you give me a call around noon?” she replied. “Sometimes I lose track of the time, so there’s no sense in you going hungry if I get wrapped up in shopping or I have to wait longer than usual at the salon.”

  “Sounds good.” He gulped and forced his libido in check. “I’ll call you.”

  “Okay, talk to you later.”

  The door closed softly, and Thomas let out a sigh of relief.

  “Not only do I have to deal with a woman who doesn’t know how to knock, but all she has to do is glance at me and my pecker jumps up to say, ‘Hey, hey, hey, come over my way!’” He leaned his forehead against the closet door, sighed again, and then jerked the door open to yank a dress shirt from a hanger. “Damn the Judges, damn the Paranorms, and damn all tall, willowy women with big eyes and long hair!”

  He slammed the door.

  The limo dropped Sable at The Elegant Curl, a ritzy beauty salon hemmed in by buildings and concrete, oceanfront, and busy streets. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, admiring the palm trees and white-sand beach. Laughter and the aromas of brine and fish twirled on the wind blowing inland. Across the street, a shaggy, jet-black dog sat on the sidewalk peering back at her from between the grill and trunk of two luxury cars. An idle thought passed through Sable’s mind about the lack of animal control in a wealthy city, and such a large dog, too, even larger than a Great Dane. She glanced up at the sun beating down on Naples. If the mutt belonged to someone, why wasn’t it groomed so it would be comfortable in the heat?

  The canine’s attention seemed riveted on her. Maybe it belonged to someone in the salon? She glanced over her shoulder through the beauty parlor’s plate-glass window and back at the dog again.

  It was gone.

  Sable blinked. Children at the edge of the beach laughed and broke into a run, their feet kicking up sand. Ah, the kids’ dog.

  Three parking spaces to the left, a nice-looking cop wrote a ticket for a double-parked Land Rover. The mutt must belong to the kids, after all; otherwise, the policeman would have called the dogcatcher. A Porsche beeped at a woman in a VW Beetle taking too long to make a left turn. The policeman glanced down the street at the disturbance, and other motorists laid down on their horns, blasting their collective agreement into the hot summer air. Drivers rudely maneuvered around the lagging car, but finally, the congestion cleared, the Beetle managed to complete its turn, and the cop finished writing the ticket. Sable dismissed the traffic and turned reluctantly from the lovely beach scene across the way to step into the salon right on time for her appointment.

  A Latino woman rushed across the beauty parlor, eyes bright, and offered Sable a huge toothy smile. “You must be Ms. Hendricks-Tade! I recognized you by all that gorgeous hair!” She escorted Sable to a seat and spun her around in it to face a large gold-and-black-framed mirror. “I’m Lucretia,” she said. “What would you like to have done today?”

  “First, a wash and style,” Sable said. “Maybe part of my hair up in ringlets, the other half left down and wavy.”

  “Certainly,” the hairdresser replied.

  “And I’d like my makeup and nails done, too.”

  “The occasion?”

  “A big art show with lots of schmoozing.”

  Lucretia nodded and pursed her shiny red lips. “Let’s see what we can come up with. What sort of dress will you be wearing?”

  “Slinky, long and gold.”

  Spreading a big salon apron around Sable’s torso, Lucretia tied it behind her neck, leaned the seat back, and settled Sable’s head in the crook of the sink. “Wow, so much hair—and so thick,” the stylist exclaimed. “This will take me a few minutes. I want to make sure I get all the shampoo out.”

  Sighing, the warm water soothing her frazzled mind, Sable let her mind return to Thomas. She’d been so thoughtless to walk in his suite without knocking, startling him. But he’d looked so delicious in nothing except his slacks, bare chest, his skin as enticing as the most expensive chocolate. Heaven above, she had no idea he had so many muscles! I bet I could bounce a quarter off his stomach.

  The beautician washed and rinsed Sable’s tresses, and Sable eased deeper into a nap, barely aware of the gentle tugging on her hair. As she relaxed, her daughter crept into her thoughts. The last time the detective had contacted her about Cheyenne’s case, he’d called to say the trail had gone cold.

  Was it possible her daughter lay dead, murdered on a dirty back street somewhere, her body dumped where it would take years before someone found it?

  No! She had to believe Cheyenne was well and somewhere safe.

  These images she pushed to the back of her brain, but new contemplations filtered in, each one a disturbing grain of sand wedged between the toes of her mind. Jacquelyn Tade. What was Hal’s new wife like? Was she nice? Sable doubted it. M
ost likely the woman was a blonde bombshell waiting to explode when Hal least expected it. Good riddance. After nearly nineteen years of marriage, Hal had decided her recent success was too much to endure and that younger women with bigger boobs had more appeal.

  The jackass.

  “Madam,” the beautician said softly by Sable’s ear. “Are you awake? You can sit up now.”

  “Hmm?” Sable wished she could remain in the realm of catnaps. Between the flight, last night’s headache, and the nightmare, she realized just how tired she was. “Oh, you’re done already?” Groggy, she sat up and glanced at her lap. A hairy little creature sat on the plastic apron spread across her legs. It blinked up at her with bulbous violet eyes, each pupil a flickering neon-green flame. It bared small, serrated teeth and reached toward her face with its claws.

  Sable screamed and swatted at her lap. Lucretia stumbled backward, crashing into a utility cart. Combs, hair blowers, and spray bottles clattered to the tile. Sable shrieked again and thrashed in the chair in an attempt to dump the beast on the floor.

  The sinister creature slid to the edge of her knees. A hiss burst from it. Its tongue, long and forked, rolled out of its mouth to caress the plastic apron.

  Lucretia rushed to her side and grabbed Sable’s arm. “It’s all right! You must have been dreaming.”

  Sable paused. Her heart jumped so hard she thought it might bounce up into her throat. Blinking, she looked from Lucretia’s worried, somewhat puzzled expression and then to the apron. The mound of her wet hair resided in her lap where the stylist had placed it, and a thick tress had separated from the pile, curling like a ribbon across the plastic.

  “Dreaming?” she stammered and glanced back at Lucretia again.

  The hairdresser nodded and offered her a sympathetic smile.

  “Oh.” Shame stoked flames in Sable’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well last night. I feel like an utter fool.”