Curse (Blur Trilogy Book 3)

by Steven James

  She didn’t fight them.

  No, she did not.

  And they hadn’t noticed that the wire handle was missing from the top of the five-gallon bucket.

  Alright, Petra. Let’s see where things go from here.

  PART III

  CONVERGENCE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  6:00 P.M.

  3 HOURS UNTIL THE DEADLINE

  I take a seat beside Alysha again.

  “Any news on Petra?” she asks. “Do they know anything yet?”

  “Not yet. No.”

  “How’s the senator doing?”

  “It’s been tough on him. What about you? How are you?”

  “Good.” She takes a deep breath. “Better. Thank you for being there for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “And also, I never properly thanked you for stepping in front of me in that elevator when the guy was shooting at us this morning.”

  “You thanked me.”

  “Not properly. You might have been killed doing that.”

  “I’m just glad those doors closed in time.”

  “And that they stopped the bullets.”

  “That too.”

  “I like this habit of yours.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Looking out for me.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I—”

  “So, thanks. Officially.”

  “Sure.”

  “I owe you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  In the stillness that follows, I realize that I must be getting used to the smells of the old theater because they’re not bothering me as much anymore.

  That slipstream of reality.

  Truth passing us by every moment while we only notice a sliver of it at a time.

  “Daniel,” Alysha says quietly, “you have me at a slight disadvantage here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can see me, but I still have no idea what you look like.” She holds her hand. “May I?”

  “Do what?”

  “If you let me touch your face . . . if you’re okay with that, it’ll help me picture you.”

  Though it makes me a little uneasy, I don’t like the idea that she thinks of herself as being at some sort of disadvantage around me, so I take her hand and place her palm against my cheek.

  She moves her fingers slowly down to the line of my jaw, then pauses and lifts her other hand. “Is this alright?”

  “Go ahead.”

  I close my eyes so she won’t accidentally poke them.

  Using both hands, she brushes her fingers lightly across my cheek, up to my forehead, then over my eyelids and my nose, and then down, momentarily grazing one finger over my lips.

  At last, she trails her hands past my chin and down my neck, to its base, where she finally rests both of them.

  “So how do I look to a blind person?”

  “You’re one of the cutest guys I’ve ever felt.”

  “Well, no one’s ever told me that before.”

  She still has her hands on the downward slope of my neck.

  I catch myself looking at her and I have the sense that, if she could see, she would be gazing at me as well.

  Eye contact.

  It’s powerful.

  I think of Nicole, and how—

  “I’m guessing it gets weird after a while doesn’t it?” Alysha says.

  “What does?”

  “Seeing me and not knowing what I’m thinking. I mean, most people get pretty good at reading other people’s eyes, right? Or at telling things about them by how long they hold your gaze or how quickly they look away?”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “I may be blind, but I’m not stupid. And I am a girl.” A tiny smile. “Besides, I do the same thing with words, with silences, with reading between the lines of what people say.”

  She lowers one hand to her lap, but leaves the other where it is. “Because of that, though, I’m afraid you still have me at a disadvantage, Daniel.”

  “How’s that?”

  “When it’s quiet, when we’re not talking, you can tell so much more about me than I can about you. But there’s one way we can be on an even playing field.”

  “What is it?”

  “Let me feel your heartbeat.”

  “Alysha, I, um . . .”

  “Oh, don’t be shy.”

  “It’s just that I—”

  “Trust me. It’s okay. Let’s see how well I do at reading between the lines.”

  After a brief internal debate, I position her hand on my chest, over my heart.

  She presses her palm more firmly so that she can find the rhythm. “You can tell a lot by a person’s heartbeat.”

  “What can you tell from mine?” Despite myself, I can feel my heartbeat quickening. Nicole comes to mind again.

  That and—

  “Just a moment.” Alysha slides her hand slightly to the side. “Hmm. I believe I’ve narrowed it down. You’re thinking one of two things.”

  “And what are those?”

  “First: You might be afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Well. Me.”

  “Why would I be afraid of you?”

  “Of being here with me right now.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Of where it might lead.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that, but I start reaching up to remove her hand. However, it’s almost like she can read my mind, because she pulls it back and rests it on her other one before I can touch it.

  “Do you want to know the second thing?”

  “Yes.”

  “That you aren’t afraid at all.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I . . .”

  “Let me have your hand.”

  “For what?”

  “Trust me.”

  She holds out her palm, and I place my hand on it.

  “Now,” she says, “close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just close them.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Trust me.”

  I close my eyes.

  “Are they closed?”

  “Yes.”

  She lifts my palm to her cheek. “Go ahead. See what I would look like to you if you were blind.”

  “Alysha—”

  She gently flattens it against her warm skin, but lets her hand linger there. “It’s okay.”

  But I open my eyes and draw my hand back. “Alysha, I have a girlfriend.”

  “And?”

  “And this . . . I mean . . .”

  “So you don’t want to kiss me?”

  “What?”

  “Your heartbeat. It was either fear or, well, just the opposite, and I’m not sure what to believe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your heartbeat or your words. The first one is telling me that you do want to kiss me, the second, that you don’t.”

  “I can’t.”

  “But do you want to?”

  It’s a tough question.

  Because despite myself, the answer is both no.

  And yes.

  “If you didn’t have a girlfriend?” she says.

  “But, I do, so I—”

  The door to the Great Carrigini’s office opens and he and Tane appear.

  “So, we can talk about this later, then?” She is whispering so that only I can hear her. “Okay?”

  I don’t want to betray Nicole, but Alysha is right about one thing—this is not the time to sort this out.

  “Okay.”

  All of this gets me thinking about Nicole again, and, though I’m tempted to call her and let her know I’m okay, I remind myself that Dad is taking care of that.

  Tane has Malcolm’s phone in his hand and is reviewing the video of what happened during their session.

  “Well?” I ask him, glad to not be alone with Alysha an
ymore.

  He looks up and studies the mountain vista photographs Dr. Carrigan has taken over the years, then walks to a picture of an old building with massive vines crawling up one side of it.

  “This place,” he says to the Great Carrigini. “What is it?”

  “The old Estoria Inn.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Closed down in the fifties. You hear stories about it. I took that photo nearly a decade ago. Why?”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “The word ‘haunted’ gets thrown around. Supposedly, there’s a malevolent spirit in room 113 that possesses anyone who stays in there for more than one night. People say a boy was murdered in that room. It’s all just folklore, though. I don’t think any of it’s ever been verified.”

  “That’s the place.” Tane taps the picture. “That’s where we need to go.”

  I look at him curiously. “Why?”

  “That’s where they’re taking Petra.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Malcolm told me.”

  “Malcolm? When?”

  “Just now.”

  “What?”

  He turns the phone’s screen toward me and replays part of the session.

  In the video, he’s in a trance and Dr. Carrigan is asking him about Malcolm. Suddenly, he starts describing a building that sounds remarkably like that hotel.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “How is it possible that Malcolm could communicate that with you?”

  Being psychic? Is that Tane’s gift? His instrument?

  But is it Malcolm’s gift too?

  “It only happened once before, when I was in L.A. Remember that story I told you about the drug dealer and how I helped find him? It wasn’t Malcolm speaking to me then, but I heard something that there was no way I should have been able to know about that location. And the voice was right.”

  I give the hypnotist back his phone and Tane hands me Malcolm’s, then he turns to Dr. Carrigan. “Can you get us up there?”

  “I’m telling you, there’s nothing there. It’s just an old deserted hotel.”

  “No. This is it,” Tane insists. “This is where we need to go.” His firm tone leaves no room for argument. “What’s the fastest way up there?”

  “From here? It would take a while—there’s no direct route. But I couldn’t drive you anyway. I’d never make it back in time for my show.”

  “What about the helicopter?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure there’s really anywhere for him to land up there.”

  “You’ve hiked all over those mountains—you said earlier that you know them like the back of your hand. There must be somewhere with a flat enough field.”

  “Well, there are some meadows, but . . . wait . . .”

  He hurries into his office and when he returns, he’s carrying a large topographical map of the Smokies. He unfolds it on the floor and studies it, tracing hiking trails with his finger.

  “This is Mount Dreyfus.” He points to a peak on the map. “There was a forest fire there a few years ago. I think the area is still clear enough to get a chopper in. From there it’s probably an hour-and-fifteen-minute hike along the ridge to the Estoria.”

  Alysha speaks up. “What if it’s too overgrown to land?”

  “Well . . . Then you’d need to fly to Spider Peak—maybe land at the base of it, here. It might be closer as the crow flies, but the trail is a little steeper and you’d have to cross Little Bear Creek. There should be a bridge, but it was pretty dilapidated the last time I was up there—and that was five years ago. I’m not sure if it’s still even intact.”

  “Will flying a helicopter around draw attention if there are people at the Inn?”

  He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t. This is a tourist area. There are half a dozen companies that provide helicopter flight excursions and tours up in those mountains. Anyway, I’m not sure what you expect to find up there.”

  Tane taps the photograph one more time. “We’re going to find the person we’re looking for. Just like I did in L.A.”

  “Alright,” I say. In the past I’ve had to trust the mysterious voices I’ve heard, now it was time to trust one of Tane’s. “Let’s go.”

  We find the pilot at the diner.

  He brings a couple slices of pie to go and we return to the chopper.

  The Great Carrigini speaks with him for a few minutes, pinpointing on the map where to drop us off. “If you can’t land here on Mount Dreyfus, try the base of Spider Peak.”

  “So from there, how do they get to the Estoria?”

  “The trail should be clearly marked. They’ll cross the creek and then head uphill toward the Inn. It’s not that far. I’m guessing it’s about an hour-hike from the meadow where you’d be landing.”

  He offers me the map. “Here. Take it.”

  “We can use the GPS on Malcolm’s phone.”

  “Oh, that won’t work up there. No reception. Take the map. Believe me. If the trails are overgrown or that bridge is washed away, you’re going to need it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Nicole Marten didn’t know what to make of everything that was going on.

  Ever since this morning when she found out Daniel was missing, she’d been worried and been praying—thinking about him pretty much the whole time.

  The pit in her stomach felt sort of like the one she’d had last winter when he was seeing the blurs of the girl who’d died on that island in Lake Superior.

  Was she concerned about him now?

  Oh yeah.

  Did she trust that God was in control?

  Yes, she did.

  So how did those two things work together—worry and faith?

  Who knows.

  But it was what it was.

  Right now she was sitting in the passenger seat next to Mia, who was guiding them up further into the mountains.

  They were almost to the Marly Weathers Great Smoky Mountains Educational Center, which was a lot more out-of-the-way than Nicole had expected. Kyle was in the back checking something on his phone.

  Thirty minutes ago, Mia had swung through Rascal’s Burger Hut.

  They didn’t serve veggie burgers, so Nicole had gone for a Mega-size Curly Fries, and then filled out her supper with some of the granola bars that were left over from the drive down to Georgia.

  Kyle ordered the Mongo Burger, and Mia got a Western Rodeo Burger with extra bacon, and a “hand-spun” pineapple milkshake, which was taking forever to melt.

  Now they’d all finished their meals, except for Mia, who was still working on her shake. She took a loud sip of it as they entered the educational center’s parking lot.

  There were so many cars that she had to park on the grass.

  “Isn’t this place supposed to be closing right about now?” Nicole asked.

  Kyle looked up from his phone. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I wonder what’s going on.”

  Inside the center, people were lining up for trolley rides that departed from the back of the building.

  Along the walls, Nicole counted sixteen glass-encased taxidermy animals showing the diversity of wildlife found in the Great Smoky Mountains—from black bears to timber rattlesnakes to different species of owls.

  It sort of bugged her—animals are not on this planet for people to gawk at or be amused by—but she could understand that the center was probably just trying to help visitors appreciate nature more. She decided to give them a pass.

  However, those animals weren’t really the main attraction.

  The fireflies were.

  The entire center was decorated with firefly stuff—from hats and jackets to stickers to cuddly stuffed animal fireflies with working lights.

  A little boy was holding one of them, making the light go on by squeezing its tummy. “So why do their butts light up?” he asked his mom.

  “It’s their abdomen.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’
s sort of, well, the part on the end, there.”

  “So, their butt?”

  “Joey.” She helped him put it back on the shelf. “C’mon. Let’s go find your father. It’s almost time for the trolley to leave.”

  Mia had brought her shake with her and kept trying to get the rest of it up the straw, but the pineapple pieces were too big and she ended up super-sucking the straw, lifting it out of the cup with the pineapple suctioned to the other end, then turning the straw around and biting off the hunk of pineapple.

  Mia being Mia.

  Kyle slipped off to use the bathroom and while he was gone, Nicole’s phone rang.

  At first she wondered if it might be the cop from campus security again, but when she checked the screen she saw that it was Daniel’s dad.

  What if something was wrong? What if Daniel had been found and he was hurt? Or worse?

  Apprehensively, she answered, “Hello? Mr. Byers?”

  “He’s okay, Nicole. Daniel is.”

  “What? How do you know? Did the cops find him?” She grabbed Mia’s arm and whispered to her, “Daniel’s alright.”

  Mia almost choked on her pineapple chunk. “What? Who is that?”

  “His dad.”

  Mr. Byers went on, “I spoke with Dan on the phone. He can’t call you, but he’s okay.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Right now I just need you not to worry about him. He’ll be in touch with you guys tonight around nine. How are you doing?”

  “We’re fine. So, but—you’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I knew where he was.”

  “Listen, it’s important that you don’t call anyone. Not the police. Not anyone else.”

  “Why would I call the police? Now you’re getting me worried again.”

  “No, you’re—look, I have another call coming in. I’m checking on some things here, so this might be important. I have to go. I’ll talk with you later.”

  And then he was off the line.

  “What is it?” Mia said.

  “I don’t know exactly. His dad says he’s alright and not to call the cops.”

  “Not to call the cops?”

  “Yeah. Weird, right?”

  Kyle returned and they quickly filled him in.

  “So now what?” he asked.

  Mia looked around. “I guess since we’re here we might as well try to figure out what’s going on.”