“I’m so relieved to have you around. I miss seeing that shiny happy face every day.” I hugged her as hard as her petite frame would allow.
Her whole face lit with pleasure “Me too. I don’t remember any of Cullen’s aunt’s names. Not to mention I can’t pronounce half of them.”
“When did you get here?”
“Not long ago. My hotel is just down the street. So I guess we’ll be doing this all over again for you in a couple of months. That’s a lot of loot. Where does one put all that?”
“All what?” I asked, following her gaze to the gift table that took up half the room. I chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure Cullen’s grandmother will find the perfect place for everything.”
“Bit of a bossy one, eh?” Leslie said.
“She can be, but I think she has the best of intentions. Did you bring the book?”
“Of course. You owe me big time,” Leslie said, pulling me in again for a hug.
“Oh, I know, and I’m sure you won’t let me forget it.”
She grinned.
“Where did you get that dress?” I said purring at the tight little polka-dot number she had on.
Before she could answer, my gaze slipped from her hem to one of the waiters about ten feet away. He vaguely resembled Nick, and it suddenly occurred to me that Nick could now just show up at any time he pleased.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is it Cullen’s family?” Les persisted.
“No, although they are a strange bunch … but no it’s not that.” I paused and lowered my voice. “I ran into Nick this morning.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Shhh!”
I watched as something uncomfortably close to worry settled across her face.
“Did he hurt you?” she asked, balling her hand up in a fist.
“No. That was the strangest part,” I admitted. “He was being nice. He wanted me to have coffee with him.”
“That bastard!” Leslie switched her stance as if ready to fight. “He probably just wanted to lure you somewhere.”
“Believe me, I feel the same way. I took no chances and got the hell away from him, but I guess I’m just a little thrown off.”
I’d handled the situation but I could still see him standing on the street, his expression perplexed—and hurt. That confused me the most.
Why did I always feel so guilty when it came to him? I hadn’t felt sorry for Nico or Velte. They were evil; Nick just came off as an asshole.
“Now that he’s here, he’s going to keep coming after me.”
“You need a plan. Maybe we can find out where he’s staying and break in and teach him a lesson,” Leslie said, a large grin spreading across her face.
“Very funny. I do know where he’s staying, actually. He gave me this.” I held up the small matchbook with his flat number written on it.”
“You better hope Cullen doesn’t find that on you. You’ll have a lot of questions to answer.”
“Funny. Let’s talk about it later. How long are you staying?”
“That depends. How long do you need me for?” Les replied, squeezing my hand.
“You know the answer to that,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “You can help me prep for the wedding.”
Lucille rolled up just in time to catch the end of our conversation. “Did someone say wedding? I’m so excited to have this one in the family. Speaking of family, have you met Cullen’s great-aunt?”
Smiling politely, I shook my head no.
“Well, ye’re in for a treat. This is Aunt Esther, and these are her daughters.”
Lucille continued to chatter away, a cheerful litany of comical struggles to do with the kids growing up together. I listened with one ear, even though my attention was focused inward. In the distance, Móraí called out orders, muffled by the sounds of women’s laughter. The increased activity hinted that we were getting closer to lunch being served.
The crowd continued to grow and late-arriving guests bombarded me with well wishes to pass on to Cullen. I held my champagne close to my chest so it wouldn’t spill, juggling my last spoonful of beluga caviar at the same time.
“Did you see the news?” one of the ladies asked.
“No. What happened?” said another.
“The old hotel—some American socialite got killed. I can’t think of her name. You know who I mean though. She was just on the cover of The Irish Times for donating to that big fundraiser.”
A waiter walked by and I grabbed his arm, nearly upsetting his tray.
“Excuse me. Do you have a copy of the Irish Times?”
The man nodded and hurried to the front of the restaurant with me in tow. He rummaged behind a counter for a minute and handed it to me. I turned it over and, on the front page, there she was.
“Nick,” I whispered. My knees wobbled and I had to lean against the wall to stay upright. “How could he do this?”
My eyes scanned the black-and-white image of Betty Rockliff handing over a large cheque. I grabbed my cell phone and put her name into google. Betty Rockcliff, dead at twenty-six. She’d been murdered. Stabbed three times and thrown headfirst over the upstairs railing. No wonder Nick needed to talk. Just then the door slammed as one of the waitstaff came in smelling of smoke.
“Ye done with that?”
“What?” I asked, looking up.
“The paper?”
Slowly I realized what he was saying.
“Ye hear about the lass from down the street? Thrown from above and her naked—heard it’s a real mess over there.”
That could have been me. I could have been smeared across some polished floor. I ran for the ladies’ room. High-heeled footsteps and calls to slow down trailed after me, but I couldn’t wait for them; the tiny black fish eggs were ready to reappear.
I made it just in time.
“Sophia?” Leslie called a minute later. She looked at me sitting on the floor crying, and set a glass on the counter.
“Are you all right?”
I started to say “yes” but then decided there was no point in lying. “No.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said, and stepped up beside me. “I’m not sure I would be either.”
I looked up at her. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
"Betty is not a great loss to the world. Ignore the damned article." She took off her own sweater and, crouching, placed it around me. “You're like ice! For God's sake, Sophia. Get up off the floor. It’s disgusting down there. I brought you a nice strong scotch.”
She backed up and gave me a long, searching look and then held out a paper towel. I emerged from the bathroom stall, took it, turned on the water, and rinsed and blotted my mouth.
“It's not like you to fold, Sophia. You're a fighter, remember?” she said, handing me the scotch.
I took a deep gulp. “Nick did it. Nick killed her.” My voice was slightly hoarse.
I finished the glass and put it on the counter. “And now I’m next.”
“No, you’re not.”
I felt the tears well up and I nodded. “How do you know?”
“You’re a hell of a lot smarter than Betty Rockliff, for one thing. Not to mention you’ve got Cullen and his family to look out for you and you have me. Nick’s not getting anywhere near you ever again.”
She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a strong person, Sophia Marcil, and you can handle this.”
I nodded. She was using Gigi’s words on purpose to empower me and it was working. “We should get back out there in case anyone noticed us disappear. Last thing I need is Móraí asking questions.”
Leslie took my arm and led me back out into the open. I forced myself to smile. The normality of the action calmed me—not to mention the whiskey was beginning to warm my insides and steady my voice.
“Cullen’s away for a few more days. I know you’re all set up in that gorgeous penthouse, but would you stay at the house with me until he ge
ts back?”
“Are you kidding? I would much rather be with you than in some fancy-schmancy albeit super-convenient, luxurious hotel.”
Móraí had noticed us and was now on the direct approach. Lunch was being served. I could see the extravagant spread of lobsters filling the tables.
“Act normal,” I whispered and lifted the champagne glass out of Leslie’s fingers, downing its contents in one gulp.
Leslie smiled. “Is drunk our normal? Hallelujah!” She turned and grabbed a champagne glass from a tray and downed it in the same manner. “I always got your back, babe.”
Chapter Thirty
Eye for Revenge
Lightning lit the sky, revealing the outline of tree limbs through the kitchen window. It was followed so closely by a crack of thunder, which shook the house, that I thought the storm must be directly overhead. Leslie cleaned off her plate and placed it in the dishwasher. “Wow, it's getting bad out there.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What do you have for snacks, anyway?”
“Not much. I need to go grocery shopping. Cullen likes pretzels so we’ve definitely got those.”
“Any chocolate?”
I laughed. “As if it would have survived this month if I’d known about it.”
Leslie went rummaging through one of the cabinets. “Let’s see, pretzels, brown sugar, here we go, sprinkles and an almost-full bag of chocolate chips.”
“What do you know. I never go in the baking cupboard.”
“Just in case someone pops out and forces you to bake?”
“Exactly.”
“If Cullen’s got butter squirreled away, we’ve got bark.”
“Bark?” I repeated.
“You know, like the Christmas peppermint bark that Gigi used to make.”
I opened the fridge and picked up the butter. “What do you need me to do with it?”
“Toss it in a saucepan, and turn the burner on low. In half an hour, we’ll have a delightful treat.”
“Half an hour. This is why I frequent bakeries. Instant satisfaction.”
Leslie glared at me, then turned back to the cookie sheet where she was spreading out pretzels on the foil. “Turn on the oven to four hundred.”
I did as directed.
“I can’t wait to watch that movie. I love scary movies on stormy nights.”
My stomach tightened. Another thunderclap rattled the house as if on cue and I shivered. “Was it even supposed to rain?”
Leslie smiled, “This is Dublin—it always rains, although when I lived here there wasn’t a lot of thunder. Besides Cullen will be back in the morning and you’ve got me to protect you.”
“Yeah, you’d put the fear of God into a burglar.” I laughed, draining my wine glass for emphasis while staring at her petite frame.
“Hey! I’m tough! Although I do plan to be pretty inebriated tonight, so scratch that.”
I rolled my eyes and grinned. “Why did I let you talk me into a supernatural thriller?”
“It’s not that scary. I promise.”
“Yeah, well, now with the storm, it will be.”
“It's just a little rain.”
I could already smell the melting butter. Leslie measured the sugar and tossed it in, grabbing a wooden spoon from the jar on the counter to stir the mixture. “This recipe is so easy, even you could make it.”
“Thanks a lot.” The mix of ingredients didn’t sound promising, but if Leslie said it would taste good, I had to believe her. Then again, just about anything that was covered in chocolate had to be good.
Leslie served herself the last of the wine and went looking for more. Sadly, there was only one more bottle. “You need to restock your wine cabinet.”
“I’ve had a lot of help drinking lately,” I said, and drained my own glass. I sighed, allowing myself to pout. “I wouldn’t have to drink so much if psychotic men would stop stalking me.”
“Cheer up,” Leslie said without sympathy, “They haven’t killed you yet.”
Well, technically they had—twice—but I didn’t see the need to point that out.
“I'm feeling especially jumpy tonight—because of the Betty thing.”
Leslie’s eyes were shining. “You mean the fact that the poor woman was killed by your ex, who is now stalking you?”
“Honestly, Leslie, you’re not helping.”
“What? I’m just trying to make you laugh.” She attended to her sugar-and-butter mixture, which was beginning to bubble, inspected the tray covered with pretzels, and then poured the hot mixture over them returning them to the oven. Where’s your sense of humor tonight?”
“It’s gone…much like Betty.”
“There you go,” she said, laughing.
She bent to look into the oven to check on the pretzels, which were madly frothing. The stove timer went off, so she grabbed a pot holder and removed the tray. “Hand me the chocolate chips, will you?”
I did. Leslie sprinkled them over the pretzels, then reached for a spatula. “When they’re all nice and gooey, I’ll spread the chocolate around. Usually they need to sit in the fridge for an hour or so before they can be eaten but since when do we follow the rules?”
“Touché. So what was bothering you the other night?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, before the party. You were having a bad day, remember?”
“Oh I was just lonely. It’s been slim pickings for a while now. The guy I was dating in Toronto dumped me over text.”
“You need to broaden your horizons. Why not date someone from around here? I’m sure Cullen could set you up with somebody. You’re not getting any younger.”
“Very funny, but we’re the same age so that doesn’t sting…all that much. Anyway, not all of us are lucky enough to get pushed off a cliff and rescued by Prince Charming.”
Leslie poked at the cooling bark, broke off a piece, and offered it to me. I took a bite and my eyes widened with delight. I chewed and swallowed. “Whoa—who knew such innocent ingredients could taste so decadent?”
Leslie laughed. “I’ll make a foodie out of you yet.”
I broke off another piece of the candy and ate it. “Did you just call me a fatty?” The stuff was seriously addictive, even if it did stick to my teeth.
“Foodie. You dork. Now, let’s stick this bark in the fridge for a couple minutes while we start the movie. After it sets, we can break it up into pieces.”
I grabbed the bottle of wine off the counter and double-checked the bolt on the door as I followed her into Cullen’s living room. A huge fireplace took up most of one wall. Cullen’s house was small but cozy. Once upon a time, it had been his family’s cottage. Most of the properties the O’Kelley’s owned had been passed down through the generations.
My eyes focused on Leslie as she sat on the couch and pulled a book from her purse.
“If you don’t want to watch the movie, we could always use this.” She held it in front of her with both hands.
“Oh, you brought the book, that’s right. I need to put it in some sort of safe.”
“Why don’t you try using it—using the magic?”
“No way.”
“Come on, Sophia, it's not like you to pass on a challenge. Throw yourself into it. Read through it at least, and see if there’s anything that can help you.”
“Last time I looked in it, I wound up with killer nightmares and they didn’t exactly help.”
She gave me a look that oozed guilt. “Don’t be mad, but I had a look through it on my way here and there’s a way to contact Rochus.”
“Leslie, what were you thinking?” I snapped, grabbing it out of her arms and setting it down.
Her face was guarded and careful. “What? Nothing happened.”
“Lucky for you. Who knows what happens when that book is opened? You could have wound up cursed like me.”
“Why do you see this as a curse, Sophia?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know. Woul
dn’t you?”
“No. You’re living every librarian’s dream. Experiencing the past when the rest of us can only read about it.”
“Yes, but as you so lovingly reminded me, Nick is trying to kill me.”
She reached out to touch the page and I looked up, startled, frightened by her curiosity.
“No one can stop destiny. Maybe you were just meant to experience all of this and maybe, instead of fighting it, you should try embracing it. If he always finds you anyway then hiding is only prolonging the inevitable, isn’t it? Why don’t you use the magic and call on Rochus for help?”
I took a deep breath. “You have a point,” I said, feeling torn. The adventurous, knowledge-seeking librarian half of me wanted to do it; it was the other rational half of me that was still afraid. I looked past Leslie, out the windows toward the darkened sky. “I’ll think about it. But let’s just watch this movie for now.”
I shoved the book under the coffee table.
“Is that where you plan to keep it?”
“I don’t know. Where’s a good spot to keep explosives? Because that’s what this book is.”
She took the movie out of the case and smiled mischievously at me just as thunder exploded, rumbling and echoing off the walls.
The opening scene began with a man creeping through the woods, flashlight in hand.
I tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, hastily pulling it over me before I picked up my wine.
“Feeling the need for fortification?” Leslie said and smirked.
“This is already unnerving. I don't like it.”
“It gets better,” Leslie said assuredly, reaching out a hand to pet Daphne, who was now curled up beside her.
“Mmm-hmm. I have my doubts.”
Another thunderclap crashed and reverberated through the house and the room went dark and silent. Cursing, I got to my feet, chucking the blanket aside.
“Glad I lit that candle.” I strode to the other room to grab it. The lightning lit up the kitchen, and outside the wind blew the trees about wildly.
“It'll blow over soon. We should light some more candles, though,” Les called from the living room.
Temple of Indra's Curse (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 2) Page 10
