Damned and Cursed | Book 10 | Fallen Skye

by Bullion, Glenn

  “What’s going on?”

  Tiffany stood at his side, looking much older than her ten years of mortal life.

  “She’s going to try on some things.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to do that before you spend a small fortune?”

  “She didn’t really want to pick anything out. I had to help her with everything.”

  “Choice is new to her.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Jack always wanted to be honest with her, but there were still many things he kept from her. He had a standard response that Tiffany knew not to question.

  “When you’re older.”

  She tugged on his arm, wanting to look into his eyes.

  “Look down. This is important.”

  It was difficult to hide a smile. He dropped to one knee.

  “Okay. Are you listening? She’s going to look beautiful, because I picked all her stuff out.”

  “Wow. Confident, are we?”

  “I might have to change some things. Maybe the sandals. And maybe some makeup. But you can’t say that.”

  “I can’t?”

  “No. Tell her she looks amazing. That she’s beautiful.”

  “Nope. Can’t do it.”

  “Dad—”

  “Sorry. I just don’t have it in me. It’s almost noon. Can’t we just go get some hot dogs and call it a trip? We still have to go to the mall.”

  “Just don’t be mean. Okay? Skye’s definitely … weird.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  Several minutes passed, with nothing from the changing booth. Jack and Tiffany both glanced at each other, confused. She took a few cautious steps toward the curtain, carefully grabbing a corner.

  “Skye?” she said. “Are you in there?”

  Slowly, she pulled back the curtain.

  Skye stood still. She stared at the mirror, her arms hanging at her sides. She’d changed into a pair of white shorts with a stylish belt and a pink shirt that, while still short enough to reveal her navel, didn’t squeeze her torso. The sandals Tiffany had picked out were nice. Skye looked lovely, although Jack would never tell her.

  Tears ran down her cheeks.

  She couldn’t look away from herself. Her right hand trembled. More tears came, and she leaned forward against the mirror to hold herself up.

  “Skye?” Tiffany asked. She joined her in the booth and took her hand. “Skye, are you okay?”

  Skye pulled free and leaned her arms against the mirror. She dropped to her knees, her skin leaving behind a screeching noise as she went. Tiffany turned to look at Jack, despair and heartbreak in her eyes.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “I don’t think she likes it.”

  He put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

  “No, Tiff. I think she actually loves it.”

  “Then why is she crying?”

  Another question he couldn’t explain to her. The truth was simple. For the first time possibly in her life, Skye was her own person. Tiffany was offering friendship and fashion advice, with nothing to gain for herself. The sensations going through her mind were jarring.

  The cashier approached from behind.

  “Uh, hello?” he asked. “Is everything okay over here?”

  “Of course. Don’t you cry when you buy new clothes?”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  “Yeah, probably not. You save your tears for the webcam and the right hand.” He approached Skye and gently touched her shoulder. “Come on, Fido. It’s hot dog time. Hot dogs cure everything.”

  “And fries,” Tiffany added. “Don’t forget fries.”

  Skye turned on her knees and embraced Tiffany. The gesture caught her by surprise, but she returned the hug. Tiffany glanced up at Jack and shrugged. She moved her lips, mouthing the words, yet not making a sound.

  “Weird.”

  Jack nodded.

  After ten minutes and a few more tears, the trio sat at a table under an umbrella on the boardwalk. Hot dogs and fries, along with drinks, were scattered between them. Skye was fine for the moment, but Jack knew her emotional journey was only beginning. Tiffany talked enough for everyone. With an army of clothes at their feet, she’d moved on to how they were going to arrange Skye’s bedroom. Skye was feeling more comfortable, but Jack often caught her studying her shirt, her shorts. Tiffany had done a good job, if the men passing by stealing second looks were any sign.

  “Maybe we could get a bunk-bed,” Tiffany suggested. “Maybe we could get two. That way we can sleep in each other’s rooms.”

  “Nope,” Jack said. “Not happening.”

  “Hot dog good,” Skye said.

  “I told you so,” Tiffany said. “You don’t like ketchup and mustard?”

  Skye didn’t understand. Tiffany did the work for her, taking what was left of her food and applying the condiments. Skye hesitated, but her eyes shot open after taking a bite.

  “You’ve never had ketchup and mustard?”

  “No. Very good.”

  “There’s more, too. There’s chili, cheese, relish, onions—”

  “Let’s stick with simple,” Jack said. “We don’t want to kill the poor woman.”

  “Dad makes the best hot dogs.”

  “Damn right I do.”

  Skye looked at both Jack and Tiffany.

  “Thank,” she said. “Thank both.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tiffany said.

  “Why? Why do this?”

  Tiffany spoke before Jack could offer sarcasm.

  “Not that long ago, I was alone. I had nothing, had a very mean lady watching me. Jack saved me. Now, we’ll save you.”

  Jack admired his daughter. He was too narcissistic to ever wish to be like anyone else, but if that weren’t the case, he wished he had a sliver of Tiffany’s spirit.

  Skye leaned next to her and kissed Tiffany on the head. She tried to kiss Jack’s cheek, but he blocked her with a forearm.

  “No, thanks. I’m all kissed up.”

  He took a breath as lunch winded down. The day was half over, and that thought scared him. They’d spent half the day on the boardwalk, buying clothes. A trip to the mall suddenly felt like a huge undertaking.

  “Okay, gang,” he said. “Let’s wrap it up. We’ve still got another stop ahead of us.”

  Jack gathered trash, but Skye jumped up, enthusiastic.

  “I do. I help.”

  She gathered the used napkins and paper plates. Jack shrugged.

  “Fine with me. It’s about time you did something.”

  Jack and Tiffany gathered the bags as Skye crossed the boardwalk. After depositing the trash, she turned to rejoin them. The man speeding past on his bike didn’t see her. He was too busy changing play-lists on his phone, riding with one hand. The collision was brutal, sending both mortal and witch to the ground. The man toppled over his bike as Skye collapsed, holding her leg.

  Tiffany dropped the bags and ran toward Skye. Jack was in no hurry. His pace was slow and steady.

  “Skye!” Tiffany shouted. “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry,” Skye said, rolling in pain. “So, so sorry.”

  The mortal in the other half of the accident was not sorry.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why don’t you watch where you’re fucking walking?”

  He shot to his feet, surveyeing the surrounding damage. Glaring at Skye, he loomed over her, casting a shadow over her slight frame, as he clenched his fists. Skye offered no resistance of any kind. She covered her face with her hands, refusing to make eye contact. Jack could only imagine how many times she’d been in that position in her life.

  “My fault. Forgive me.”

  “It was your fault!” Tiffany shouted. “You were staring at your phone!”

  He ignored her. He picked his bike up and leaned it against the storefront. His cheeks flared when he saw his phone in the middle of the boardwalk.

  “My phone! You broke my phone!”

  Tiffany took his
picture with her own phone. It stunned the man.

  “Did you just—?”

  “I filmed you. For when we call the police.”

  “You—”

  He reached for Tiffany’s wrist. Until that moment, Jack wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He didn’t care about Skye. He certainly wouldn’t fight for her. He wasn’t her knight in shining armor. Her leg was hurt, with a trail of blood running down her calf. But she was a witch. Some water from a faucet, and she’d be fine.

  All coherent thought vanished when the mortal reached for his daughter.

  Jack intercepted his arm and twisted violently. There was a snap and a cry of pain. With a single kick to the back of the knee, the mortal was on the ground in an uncomfortable position. Jack didn’t release his hold.

  Rage threatened to consume him. He shoved it deep down, perhaps with the aid of some supernatural force. Every instinct in his body said to kill the mortal, find his address, bury him in his backyard. But that wasn’t what Tiffany would do.

  Still, a lesson needed to be taught, and not to the mortal. Tiffany would guide Skye with compassion, kindness.

  Jack would take the opposite approach.

  “Tiffany,” he said, his voice even, almost sweet. “Just stay by our bags for a minute. Okay? Right over there, where I can see you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey! What the fuck is your—?”

  Another twist. The mortal winced and went silent.

  “Skye. Come with me.”

  Jack dragged the mortal between the storefronts, away from prying eyes. Skye was a step behind, using the wall next to her for balance.

  “Let go of me! I’m going to kick your—”

  Jack reared his free hand back and slapped the man across the face. The echo reverberated through the buildings. A group of seagulls perched above flew away at the disturbance.

  “Another word,” he said. “And I’ll break your ribs.”

  The mortal’s bravado faded. He was silly and stupid, like all mortals. But he recognized the danger in Jack’s eyes, the deadly seriousness.

  He dropped him to the concrete, next to a bag of trash. The sight was fitting, somehow. Skye watched with intensity, apprehension in her eyes.

  “The accident was his fault,” Jack began. “He wasn’t paying attention, ran into you. But you apologized. Why?”

  “Hey!” he said. “It wasn’t—”

  Jack pulled his foot back and drove it into his ribs. Then again. He looked up to make sure Tiffany couldn’t see the violence. Skye’s body, while narrow and frail, helped block the assault from his daughter’s eyes.

  “This man isn’t important. He’s nothing. We’ll call him Example. Why did you apologize to the Example here?”

  Skye said nothing, staring at Example at her feet. Emotions played across her face. Anger, confusion, fear, doubt.

  “You are no longer who you were,” Jack said. “No one owns you anymore. You don’t have to be afraid of pieces of shit like the Example. You don’t have to cower. Don’t apologize for something you didn’t do. Hell, don’t apologize for something you did do.” He took a breath, hoping he was getting through. “Stay in your lane. Enjoy all life has to offer. Enjoy being a sorceress.”

  “What the hell—?” Example said.

  Jack glared at him, silencing him.

  “But whenever anyone threatens you, or someone you care about, pulls you out of your lane. You beat them so hard they never dream of looking at you again. When words fail—” He rolled his eyes, thinking of Victoria and her love of words. “You maim them. Cripple them. Make them regret ever giving you a negative thought.”

  “Fuck, man, I’m sorr—”

  “Shut up!”

  Jack went silent. If he had more time, and his blood wasn’t boiling, perhaps he could have made his point more clearly. He watched Skye. She chewed on his words, turned them over in her mind. She’d suffered so much abuse, so much horror. It would take more than Jack could offer to even begin with the healing process.

  “You hit me,” she finally said, staring at Example. “You apologize.”

  “I’m sorry!” He looked at both of them, panic in his eyes. “Shit, I’m so sorry! It was my fault!”

  Jack reached down and grabbed Example’s phone. He had it in his hand before dropping it during Jack’s assault.

  “Actually, it’s not completely broken,” he said. “It still works. The screen is just cracked. But they can swap that out.”

  “Ah, man. Thank—”

  Jack slammed the phone against the wall. He didn’t stop until the mobile tech was nothing more than a lump of ruined glass and plastic. Not even Kevin’s magical and technical skills could save it.

  “Now it’s broken.”

  He dropped to a knee and reached for Example. Example leaned away, but not far enough. Jack grabbed his shirt and tore it away from his chest. It took two attempts to remote it.

  “You can go.”

  Example scurried to his feet and ran. Jack heard him gather his bike and pedal away as fast as his legs would allow.

  Gently, he grabbed Skye by the wrist.

  “Sit down.”

  She did so. He grabbed her leg and flexed it. She winced in pain, her body tensing up. Using Example’s shirt, he dabbed at the blood on her leg, wiping it away. It wasn’t bad at all, looking much worse than it was. Just a skinned shin.

  “You’re a good man.”

  A rare, complete sentence, even if it wasn’t true. Jack shook his head.

  “No, I’m not. I’m the worst.”

  Skye also shook her head.

  “No. I’ve met the worst.”

  Jack almost retorted, but stayed quiet. There was a chance she actually had met people that could rival his darkness.

  “How are you feeling? Can you walk?”

  He helped her to her feet. She stretched her leg, taking a few practice steps.

  “Think so.”

  “Good. I’m not carrying your ass back to the truck. Let’s go.”

  Tiffany was waiting patiently near their bags as they approached. She took Skye’s hand, looking up at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  Skye nodded.

  “Yes. Jack helped me.”

  “He always helps everyone.”

  Jack grabbed several bags, uncomfortable with the amount of love being thrown his way.

  “Let’s not get crazy,” he said. “Let’s get going. We still have a bedroom to buy.”

  *****

  As it always did, a sense of time eluded Jack. The sun was setting as they drove home. They’d only been out a day, but it felt like a month. Every time they came close to anything resembling a decision, whether it be the choice of mattress, bed frame, dresser, even sheets, something would derail that decision. Usually, it was Tiffany. They spent an hour browsing various stores looking for Spongebob sheets, only to discover there were none in stock. It took bartering, unnecessary conversation, and a lot of frustration. But finally, they had everything in place to put together a simple bedroom. Despite the late hour, a truck wasn’t far away to deliver and set up everything. Another slight advantage of being wealthy.

  His patience was being put to the test as Tiffany and Skye sang. Tiffany sang words to a song he’d never heard in his life, while Skye tried to hum along. When Skye made a mistake, Tiffany insisted they start over. To add to the torture, every traffic light in town worked against them.

  He wanted to sleep for as long as his magical trinket would allow. He’d set the timer for twelve hours, then reset it for another twelve. At their fifth red light, Jack rubbed his forehead.

  “Guys,” he said. “I don’t know any other way to say this. Please, you’re killing me. Stop singing.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Tiffany asked. “Skye’s hungry.”

  “Oh? And you’re not?”

  “You don’t hear her stomach growling?”

  “I thought that was her ass.”

  A quick, share
d laugh, before the singing started again. It didn’t last long before they were a street away from the house.

  “Hey!” Tiffany said. “Look at this!”

  She held up her bracelet for all to see.

  Jack took notice.

  “It’s not just blue anymore,” she said, pointing out the obvious. “Check out that brown color.”

  He slowed the truck, looking at the street and sidewalks. He wondered if they had company, and let out a smile as the house came into view.

  “Well, would you look at that?” He elbowed Skye in the arm. “Check out that woman. One day, when you’ve drunk plenty of milk, taken all your vitamins, and with a little luck, you might look half as beautiful as that creature there.”

  Jack parked by the curb, leaving plenty of room for the upcoming delivery truck. He watched his uninvited visitor.

  She sat on the porch sideways, her legs stretched from step to step, as she swiped her smartphone. It had been some time since he last saw her. Plenty of phone calls and texts, but they didn’t get to see each other often. He did not try to hide his admiration of her curves as he stepped out onto the street. She wore no shoes, only a pair of shorts and a loose shirt. She wasn’t dressed for the beach. Jack knew her intention was to shed her clothes later and run through whatever wooded area she could find.

  “Who is that?” Tiffany asked, gathering several bags.

  She stood up and surveyed Jack and his group. He could see her nose twitching, taking in fresh scents and locking them in her memory. Tucking her phone away, she met them halfway on the sidewalk.

  “Here,” she said, offering her hand to Tiffany. “Do you need a hand with that?”

  Skye smiled shyly and waved, also offering her a bag.

  “Who let you off your leash?” Jack asked.

  “Funny,” Marie said. “That will just never get old. Hi, Jack.”

  CHAPTER 11

  AS OFTEN AS Victoria was away, she had a standard list of chores for her property in her absence. That list had changed since Zoey came to stay, but it was a list, regardless. The lawn needed to be maintained, the inside of the mansion cleaned, and food put in the refrigerator. Her cars needed washing, except for her Porsche. No one washed that except her. The basement was off-limits for the cleaning crew since Zoey’s arrival. A few new items had been added, such as blood delivery for her young guest.