Never Look Back

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  "I haven't actually seen her. I've only smelled her fragrance and felt her presence." She stalled. "I'm not totally sure it's Vanessa."

  "But she's the one who supposedly made the necklace?"

  Allie sighed. Supposedly? Daniel was still having trouble believing her. "Yes."

  He bit into his cone. Ice cream was dripping from the bottom of it and seeping onto his napkin. "I'll schedule a meeting with my contact for tonight."

  "What's she like?"

  "She's obsessed with death," he responded, making Allie look right at him.

  And wonder if his ex-lover could be trusted.

  * * *

  Allie took her own car that night, preparing to meet Daniel at his contact's house. He'd given her a name and address. Glynis Mitchell in Studio City. Not that it meant anything, but at least it made the other woman seem less elusive.

  Even if she was obsessed with death. Even if Allie wasn't sure if she could be trusted.

  She drove into the neighborhood where Glynis lived, an impressive community off Ventura Boulevard, an area that commanded some of the highest-priced real estate in the San Fernando Valley.

  Daniel's former bedmate had money. Lots of it. Allie arrived at her home, a romantic Tuscan estate offering a breathtaking view.

  She took the circular driveway and parked next to a silver Mercedes. Daniel's white van was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't here yet.

  The stone path to the door was flanked with floodlights, showcasing fuchsia-colored flowers, big exotic blooms Allie couldn't name. Ivy crawled up the sides of the house and around windows with rustic shutters.

  She rang the bell and a short, stout housekeeper answered the summons, escorted her into the living room and offered her a seat, where she was left to wait.

  And wonder.

  She didn't sense a witch. Nothing she could grasp. Nothing tangible.

  The interior presented mottled colors, timeworn finishes and terra-cotta accents. The floors were brick, and the furniture was fashioned from distressed woods. The lavish home, a combination between an Italian villa and a shabby-chic farmhouse, was filled with American Indian artifacts. The effect was dazzling.

  A curvaceous brunette in her early fifties entered the room. She wore her hair in a Bettie Page pinup-girl style, with short rolled bangs and thick flowing locks. Tiny lines around her eyes marked the vestiges of time, but she had a youthful style. Her lips were painted a deep shade of red, and her black pantsuit was trimmed in chain-stitch embroidery.

  "I'm Glynis," the other woman said, extending her hand.

  "And I'm Allie." She studied Daniel's ex-lover, an aging siren who was at least fifteen years older than he was. She wasn't what Allie had expected. "Daniel didn't tell me that you collected Indian artifacts."

  "This is my late husband's collection." Glynis made a grand gesture, sweeping her hand past a grouping of tribal masks, baskets and pottery. On the other side of the room, glass cases displayed arrowheads and small stone carvings.

  "I inherited all of this from him."

  Ah, Allie thought. A wealthy widow.

  "Would you like a drink?" the other woman asked.

  "Cranberry juice if you have it."

  Glynis walked over to a wood bar. "Vodka, too?"

  "No, just the juice."

  "I'm going to have some vodka." Her hostess smiled. "A Vampire's Kiss."

  Allie had never heard of that drink, but it fit a woman who was supposed to be obsessed with death.

  Once the refreshments were dispensed, Glynis folded herself into a padded chair and crossed her legs. Her pant legs brushed her shoes, a pair of glossy pumps. "We can get to know each other while we wait for Daniel."

  "I am curious about you," Allie admitted.

  "Why? Because Daniel called me the queen of death?"

  "More or less."

  "That boy." The phrase rang of affection. "But what he said is true, I suppose. I owned a death rock club in the eighties. Similar to Goth, but with punk roots. In those days, I was rebellious. Decadent. Morbid."

  "And now?" Allie asked.

  "And now I own a string of mortuaries. But they were my husband's. I inherited them from him."

  "You went from owning an underground club to arranging funerals?"

  "Ironic, isn't it? Kevin, my husband, had a different view of death than me. I saw it as dark and gloomy, but he perceived it as deep and spiritual. He respected it. I didn't." She sipped the Vampire's Kiss, a cranberry cocktail that looked similar to Allie's juice. "But I do now."

  "So how do the Indian artifacts factor into all of this?"

  "They were Kevin's passion. His hobby. Something else he respected. He was very supportive of the Native American Graves and Repatriation Act. I assume you're familiar with it."

  Allie nodded. "It's a federal act that prompts the return of property illegally removed from Native American tribes."

  "Kevin was particularly concerned about human remains and funerary objects," Glynis said. "In fact, that's how he met Daniel and the Warrior Society. He helped them locate stolen remains and funerary objects."

  "He sounds like a noble man."

  "He was. I fell apart after he died. Daniel helped me through it."

  And they'd become lovers, Allie thought. Glynis had reached out to Daniel in the way Raven had latched on to her. Grief had brought them together. The parallel didn't sit well.

  Glynis finished her cocktail. "That was almost five years ago." She got up to refresh her glass, offering Allie a refill, too. "Obviously I took over where Kevin left off, helping Daniel with his causes."

  Allie accepted the second drink, and the doorbell rang, signaling Daniel's arrival. The housekeeper ushered him into the room, and Glynis crossed the brick floor to greet him.

  Daniel hugged his former lover, brushing a kiss across her cheek. Then he approached Allie. She didn't stand up, so he leaned down to hug her, too. To put his mouth against her cheek, to linger a little longer than he should have.

  Sneak attack. He'd never touched her before, not like that. She shifted in her seat. He'd just given her butterflies. She wanted to kick him.

  He smiled and sat next to her on the couch. Glynis fixed him a cocktail without asking him what he wanted. The long-ago intimacy between them was still palpable. Allie wanted to kick him for that, too.

  Daniel Deer Runner had sex appeal, even with his meticulous clothes, slicked-back hair and dorky glasses.

  Glynis handed him a Gin and Nothing. Allie had seen her pouring a jigger of gin over ice and adding a twist of lemon peel.

  He saluted both women and took a drink. Glynis didn't seem concerned about his obvious attraction to Allie. She lifted her glass in a silent toast, as well. Apparently whatever she'd felt for Daniel wasn't threatening to return. She'd only needed him when she'd been grieving. Allie refused to let that happen between her and Raven.

  "Should we get started?" Glynis said.

  "Yes. Absolutely." Allie opened her oversize purse and removed a folder with a copy of the sketch she'd made. "This is the amulet I'm searching for."

  Glynis took the paper and examined it. Recognition appeared in her eyes. Allie scooted to the edge of the sofa. So did Daniel.

  "The Vanessa," Glynis said.

  "That's what the necklace is called?" Daniel asked, before Allie got the chance to speak.

  Glynis responded. "It was named after the inscription on the back. Vanessa. She was a woman from Fort Sill during the Apache prisoner-of-war era." She paused to study the sketch again. "It's an unusual piece. Not typical for its day. I heard it was associated with a curse." She made a disturbed face. "Shape-shifting. Witchcraft."

  Allie shot Daniel an I-told-you-so look, and his chest rose and fell. A laden breath. A troubled reaction. Apparently he hadn't expected Allie's story to pan out.

  Glynis caught the exchange. "What's going on?"

  "Nothing," Daniel said.

  Unconvinced, she turned to Allie. "You better not be a witch. That bet
ter not be the reason you're searching for the amulet."

  "It isn't." The tables had turned. Daniel's contact was suspicious of her instead of the other way around. "I'm a shaman," she said, repeating the honor Raven had bestowed upon her.

  Glynis remained silent for a second, sipping her Vampire's Kiss. Finally she told the rest of the tale. "Vanessa's husband disappeared, and she insisted that he'd been cursed. That the daughter of a dead witch had been flaunting his necklace in front of her."

  Sorrel, Allie thought.

  Glynis continued. "After that, the necklace itself wound up missing. And then Vanessa committed suicide."

  Allie's heart dropped to her stomach. "She killed herself?"

  "That's what the Fort Sill records indicate."

  But why? Why would Vanessa take her own life? Why hadn't she waited for Raven? At least given him a chance to find his way back to her?

  "Could she have been murdered?" Allie asked. "Could someone have killed her and made it look like suicide?"

  "I have no idea." Glynis returned the sketch, her suspicions on the rise. "Exactly why are you searching for this piece? Why would a shaman be interested in it?"

  "Because my family is involved. The child who flaunted the necklace was my grandmother. And the dead witch was my great-grandmother."

  "Then your mother is…" She turned to Daniel, lashing out at him. "Why didn't you tell me that she was Yvonne Whirlwind's daughter? Why didn't you tell me her last name ahead of time?"

  "I figured she would tell you herself." His features tensed. "But I didn't think you'd hold it against her."

  Allie interjected, drawing Glynis's attention back to her. She wasn't about to let Daniel take the other woman's wrath. She had accusations of her own. "Why are you so familiar with The Vanessa? With Yvonne's affiliation with it?"

  "Rory Bramwell told me. He's the curator of the Witchcraft Museum. He came to see me a few months ago, asking if I would help him search for the necklace. He gave me all of the details. It was the first time I'd ever heard of it." She sent Allie a cold stare. "I told him to go to hell. He's a creep. And so are you if you expect me to believe that you're a shaman." Her voice turned as sharp as a blade. "Your mother is a serial killer."

  "I know what she is. And I'm nothing like her."

  "I want you to leave, both of you." Glynis snared Daniel's gaze. "How dare you put me in this situation."

  "Do your Native research," he snapped back, coming to Allie's rescue. "Shamans are capable of being witches, and witches are capable of being shamans. It's the same power. It just depends on how it's used."

  Glynis held her ground. "I still want you to leave."

  Allie stood up. What choice did they have? She reached for Daniel's hand, and he came with her. She fought the urge to break down. She hated feeling this way. The hurt, the anger, the shame of being Yvonne's daughter.

  Once they were outside, Daniel apologized. "I'm sorry. I never expected her to react that way."

  "It isn't your fault. It happens all the time. I should be used to it by now." She hadn't let go of his hand. He was big and broad and comforting. "Do you believe that Raven is real? That everything I told you is true?"

  "Yes." His voice was quiet. "But it scares me to think that you're caught up in something so dark."

  She wondered if Daniel would pray for her, if he would say rosaries in her name. She looked into his eyes.

  Then smelled Vanessa's holistic perfume.

  Allie pulled away from him and glanced around. There was nothing but the front of Glynis's house—the stone walkway and the flowers she couldn't identify. Yet the ghostly energy overflowed with sadness, with suicide. Allie could feel it.

  Vanessa had taken her own life.

  "What's wrong?" Daniel asked.

  "Everything." The curator from The Witchcraft Museum, a man who might be Yvonne's pen pal, was searching for the amulet. And he knew all about Vanessa.

  The ill-fated ghost in the center of it all.

  Chapter 9

  "She is here, isn't she?" Daniel asked as they walked to their cars.

  Allie knew he was talking about Vanessa. "Yes. But I can't see her."

  Floodlights shined on the walkway, making the stones appear to zigzag, making the path seem haunted. A three-quarter moon waxed the sky, adding another layer, another dimension.

  He stopped, crossed his arms, gave an uncomfortable shudder. "Now it's happening to me."

  She went still, too. "What are you talking about?"

  "The fragrance."

  Oh, God. "You can smell it?"

  "Yes." He shifted his feet, and a tiny lizard ran across his tennis shoes and darted into the flower bed.

  "Vanessa won't hurt you," she said.

  "I know. But…"

  "But what?"

  "I don't think her fragrance is a perfume, something she wore when she was alive. I think it's an herbal mixture that her family bathed her with after she died."

  "Why would you say something like that?" Allie didn't want to fill her nostrils with the scent of Vanessa's freshly washed corpse.

  "Because before my mother was laid out to rest, my father bathed and dressed her. He asked the funeral home if he could help prepare her for her burial. We aren't traditional Indians, but he was trying to follow the old way, at least to some degree." Daniel crossed his arms again. "I was just a child, but I remember the scent on her skin. It was similar to this."

  To this. The fragrance was getting stronger.

  "What does it mean?" Allie asked. "What is Vanessa trying to tell us?"

  "I don't know." Another lizard ran across his feet and joined the first one. "But we have to find out."

  "How?" She watched the reptiles. Daniel didn't even notice. But maybe the lizards weren't real. Maybe they were a manifestation only she could see.

  A sign from Vanessa.

  Were lizards significant to the Apache? Allie didn't know. She should have studied that side of her heritage, learned every aspect of it. She should have made it part of her training.

  Daniel finally responded, "We could have a séance. Maybe use a Ouija board."

  "What? No." She backed away from him, from the idea of deliberately contacting the dead. "When Olivia and I tried to talk to our dad through a Ouija board, we summoned Zinna instead."

  "But Vanessa wants to be reached. She—"

  Allie cut him off. "We can't take the chance of conjuring an evil spirit. It's too risky."

  "We could get a medium to help us. Someone who—"

  She sliced his words again. "I don't want to involve anyone else. It would still be risky."

  He frowned at her. She glanced down and saw another lizard. This was getting weird.

  "Look at your feet, Daniel. Do you see anything?"

  He dropped his gaze. "Oh, wow. Hey, little guy." He knelt to pick up the reptile. "It's a banded gecko. They're nocturnal."

  "Is that your spirit animal?"

  "No." He put the gecko on the ground and it scurried away. "Why?"

  "That's the third one that's crossed your path."

  "Fourth." He indicated yet another one that stopped to sit on his shoe.

  Suddenly she remembered the story that Raven had told her: the boy named Apache who'd slain the dragon with his fourth arrow. Was four a spiritual number? A Chiricahua omen? "Do you think this is coming from Vanessa?" Her scent was still drifting through the air, permeating the night.

  "We should do that séance, Allie."

  "I already told you, it's dangerous." She paused, watched him pick up the fourth lizard. "And isn't messing with Ouija boards against your religion?"

  "In other parts of the world, attempts have been made to blend Catholicism with the occult." He let the gecko nudge his nose. Then he placed it in the flower bed, where the other three peered up at him from behind a leafy plant. "Besides, I was weaned on myths and legends, on Native folklore. I can't ignore the supernatural, not when it's sucking me in."

  Allie understood. H
er Christian and Native roots didn't always mesh. But she wasn't as religious as Daniel, at least not in a follow-the-rules, churchgoing way. Of course, he'd been known to break the Thou shalt not steal commandment.

  "I want to meet Raven," he said.

  Her heart hit her chest, an awakening, an emotional trigger. "When I left home tonight, he was still a bird. I doubt he's shape-shifted back into a man."

  "I still want to meet him."

  She didn't have a choice. After everything that had happened tonight, everything that was still happening, she couldn't turn him away.

  "You can follow me," she told him.

  "Okay." He removed his keys from his pocket, and they gazed at each other.

  She could tell that he wanted to kiss her. But he didn't. He knew Raven was real. He knew she had a lover.

  They climbed in their vehicles, and Vanessa's fragrance faded. The ghost was gone.

  By the time they reached the loft, Allie was nervous. Somewhere deep down, she'd wanted Daniel to take a chance, to kiss her. Yet she hated being drawn to two men.

  Samantha made her choice when they entered the living room. The cat hissed at Daniel.

  "Hey, kitty," he said, trying to win her affection.

  "She does that to most people when she first meets them." It wasn't an excuse, Allie thought. It was true. Sam was finicky.

  "It's okay," he said. "She'll come around."

  Like the cat had done with the other shape-shifter? "Raven is probably in the studio. He usually greets me, but I've never come home with anyone before." She waited a beat. "Are you ready to meet him?"

  Daniel nodded, and Samantha hissed again.

  Allie quieted the cat and led him to the studio. Raven was in his nest in the rafters. She and Daniel looked up, and the bird peered down.

  "This is Daniel," Allie said.

  Raven angled his head, but he made no attempt to leave his nest. Daniel turned and saw the painting.

  "Is this him?" he asked.

  "Yes." The watercolor was still displayed on its original easel.

  He stared at the other man's portrait, at every detail. "You're an amazing artist."

  "Thank you."

  "You should paint a picture of Vanessa, too."

  "I don't know exactly what she looks like."