Cursed by the Fountain of Youth (Unnatural States of America Book 1)

by Holly Kelly

  Fae jotted down everything she could recollect. The victim lay sprawled on her back in white, lacy underwear. The bed was a high-end four-poster with light blue bedding. The victim didn’t have a mark on her, that Fae could see. The clothes strewn across the floor consisted of a red t-shirt, blue jean shorts, white socks, and a pair of pink and yellow tennis shoes. The window was closed; the bathroom door open. She wasn’t lying on a pillow. It sat on the floor and had a tiny smear of something red. Lipstick? The same color as the—

  Fae’s hand shot up.

  “Ms. Miller?” Nick said.

  “I know how she died,” Fae said with pride in her voice.

  “You do, do you?” He raised his eyebrows. She’d obviously surprised him. He looked around the class. “Does anyone else have a clue?”

  The students were silent. “No one?” Nick asked.

  When no one made a move, Nick turned back to her. “Okay, how was she killed?”

  “She was smothered to death. The smear of red on the pillow is the same color as her lipstick.”

  Nick broke into a wide smile. “Very good.”

  He gave them a few more minutes to finish up their lists before speaking. “Okay, class. I want you to practice your observation skills.” He turned on the projector and clicked. A web address popped up. “Here’s the link for some activities. I want you to do the first one in class and the others as homework, which you’ll need to turn in on Tuesday.”

  Fae continued to write down more of what she remembered as the rest of the class began to file out. When the last student left, she finally decided she had written enough.

  “That’s a lot of items. You’re very good,” Nick said. She looked up at his smiling face.

  “I’ve always been pretty observant.”

  “I can see that.” He raised an eyebrow.

  Her heart sped up as he continued to watch her.

  “Um,” she said, “your class is really good. I’ve learned a lot.”

  “I’m glad you think so. Look, I was wondering…”

  When he hesitated, she said, “Yes?”

  He sighed, and his countenance soured. Fae felt like she’d been washed in cool water. “Don’t forget the rest of your assignment is due Tuesday.”

  “Oh, um. Yes. I’ll remember.” She gathered her things. “I’ll see you next class.”

  “Absolutely,” he answered with regret in his eyes.

  As she walked away, she heard him mutter something.

  She turned back. “Did you say something?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s nothing.”

  Fae left the building with a mixture of thoughts floating in her head. She felt a strong attraction to her professor. Every time she caught his eye, she could barely breathe. Aside from that, she took pride in the fact that she seemed gifted in her chosen major. She ached to put her investigative skills to use in her own life. She had to find out who she was and where she came from. Only one person held the key to those answers. Fae dreaded having to face her. She dreaded it down to her bones. But first, she had to do something else she dreaded nearly as much.

  She had to go to work.

  * * * * *

  The linoleum tile was cold under Fae’s bare feet. She pulled the cotton sheet tight to her chest. What am I doing? I seriously can’t do this!

  “Ms. Miller?” a light, feminine voice called. “The class is ready for you.”

  Fae looked up and met the eyes of a gray-haired woman with understanding written on her face. Looked like she could see Fae’s fear. Fae swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I don’t think I can do this.” The woman stepped forward and took her hand. “The first time’s always the hardest. And this one’s a good way to start. Have you ever worn a bikini before?”

  Fae nodded.

  “Well, this costume covers more than a bikini.”

  “But everyone will be looking at me.”

  “Have you never done any acting?”

  Fae shook her head.

  The woman pressed her lips together—her eyes sympathetic. “You’ll do fine.”

  “Okay.” Fae took a deep breath. “I can do this,” she said, mostly to herself.

  “Good girl.” The teacher led her through the door.

  For a split second, Fae caught the curious looks of the class members, and she dropped her eyes.

  The teacher tugged the sheet away, leaving Fae dressed only in a silky, toga-like thing that barely covered her. As bad as this seemed, it could be worse. Thankfully, the class was learning how to draw fabric along with the human body. She seriously needed to look for another job.

  Stepping up to the stool, Fae sat down, leaving one leg extended and the other resting on the crossbar. She leaned back ever so slightly and looked up.

  “Perfect,” the professor said. “Don’t move. All right, students…”

  Fae didn’t pay attention to the rest of the introduction. She tried to focus on her happy place—a wooded area with a small stream trickling through some rocks. The light penetrated the forest in green-tinted beams that dropped to the moss-covered ground, lighting the whole area in a soft glow.

  She let her imagination go, dreaming of a fantastic adventure—complete with woodland animals, fairies, and a small cottage. She herself was not what she appeared. She had magic flowing through her veins, and everything she touched came to life.

  A cottage lay before her, beckoning her. The woodland creatures flocked her, blocking her way. It seemed that they didn’t want her to reach the quaint house. But she knew exactly who lived there and she simply had to see him. Stepping up to the door, she gave a little knock.

  The door opened just a crack—enough to see the eyes of a man that made her heart pound and her knees tremble. At first, he seemed irritated. And then he recognized her.

  Nick opened the door and put out his hand. She tentatively took his grip and a moment later found herself pressed against his chest. He looked down at her, his eyes penetrating hers, his gaze filled with heat. When he looked at her mouth, her heart flip-flopped in her chest. Slowly he lowered his mouth so that it hovered just above hers.

  “Miss Miller?”

  Reality thrust its way back into Fae’s mind at hearing the professor’s voice. Just when my daydream was getting good!

  “Thank you so much,” the professor said, helping her off the stood.

  Looking around, Fae saw the classroom was nearly empty. She’d really zoned out! She swayed a bit, finding her left foot asleep. Thank heavens she could right herself before she fell over.

  The professor chuckled. “You’ll have to walk it off. Sitting in one position for forty-five minutes is bound to put something to sleep.”

  “Yeah,” Fae breathed, still trying to shake off the daydream. What was she doing daydreaming about Professor Chase, anyway? It wasn’t like it could ever come true.

  “I’ll see you Thursday, same time.”

  Fae nodded.

  Right. Her job. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  She looked up at the clock and her heart sank. Mr. Wright would be here to pick her up in about twenty minutes.

  * * * * *

  Fae stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. Glancing up, the jail loomed ahead. It almost looked like an elementary school—except for the sparse windows with bars. Fae had always wanted to attend school, but seeing this building, she wondered what in the world she had been thinking.

  “You don’t have to do this, Fae,” Mr. Wright said. He watched her with pity in his crinkled, brown eyes. He wore a light gray suit and brown loafers. With those clothes and crazy white hair and mustache, he looked more like Colonel Sanders than an attorney. He didn’t even need to be here. She had no money to pay him, but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

  “I really do.” Fae’s voice quivered. “As much as I’d like to leave my past behind me, I need to know who my real parents are, and she’s the only one who has the answers I need.”

  Mr. Wright nodded.
“Just let me know if you’d had enough. And Fae?”

  She turned when he hesitated.

  “Don’t let her get to you. She’s a deeply disturbed woman.”

  Fae nodded.

  She easily passed through security. She didn’t carry a bag, just a small wallet, which they inspected and passed back to her. Her low heels clicked against the floor as a chill broke out over her skin. Places like this always ran the AC on high. And her stomach turned at the smell…a mixture of industrial cleaners, sweat, and urine. Fae pushed back the guilt that threatened to rise. Brigitte was responsible for her own actions and the consequences of those actions.

  The corrections officer manning the security station looked at her with his eyebrows raised and gave a friendly smile with just a hint of pity. He didn’t bother saying hello. This was not a place one went to chat or socialize—unless you were visiting with a loved one.

  She walked down the hall with Mr. Wright’s hand on her back. He seemed to know she needed assurance that she wasn’t alone.

  There were several other visiting family members hovering around a closed door. Fae stood at the edge of the group. The steel door opened, and an officer stepped into the hall.

  “Those visiting inmates Heather Connor, Patricia Staudman, and Brigitte LeCrue may enter through here.” He stepped aside. Fae’s heart pounded in her chest as she paused.

  Gathering courage, she stepped into the room and found several booths with thick glass separating the inmates from visitors. Identical tan phones hung on the wall inside the enclosures. The guard directed Fae to the booth at the far end.

  She stifled her surprise when she saw Brigitte. The dark circles under her eyes and the wrinkles that had sprouted on her face gave Fae a twinge of regret. Brigitte looked like she’d aged a decade in the last few months.

  Fae sat on a plastic-lined metal chair and lifted the phone.

  “Fontaine,” Brigitte said, her southern Florida accent coming through. “I knew you’d come to see me eventually. You’re too sweet a girl to turn your back on the woman who raised you.”

  “Raised is a very loose term,” Fae said. “A person who raises you doesn’t usually lock you away and keep you prisoner.”

  “You talk as if I kept you prisoner all your life,” Brigitte said. “I didn’t have to lock you up until you tried to run away.”

  “I was twenty-one years old, and you kept me padlocked in a shed for over a month. You threatened to kill me if I escaped. What kind of mother is that?”

  “You don’t understand,” Brigitte said. “I never said I would be the one to kill you. Everything I did, I did to protect you. I had to teach you a lesson.”

  “The lesson I learned was how cruel you could be.” This was the exact conversation she’d been determined to avoid. She needed information, and she’d better get it now before she lost it completely. “Listen, I didn’t come to argue. I need to know about my parents…my real parents.”

  Pain flashed across Brigitte’s face. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “Because it would incriminate you?” Fae said.

  “No!” Brigitte said adamantly. “You know that’s not the reason. If I told you, you would be in danger.”

  Fae wanted to shout that she wasn’t in any danger. Brigitte was delusional. But Fae kept her mouth shut. She’d have to be clever if she wanted to get any answers from Brigitte.

  She’d have to lie.

  “Mom, please,” she said, nearly choking on the word “mom.” The day she found out Brigitte wasn’t her real mother and that Brigitte had kidnapped her, she’d sworn she’d never call her mom again. But desperate times called for desperate measures—which was why she’d also decided to forget her vow to never lie again—just for today. She’d need to find out the truth from Brigitte. Today was a day for broken resolutions.

  “I promise,” Fae said. “I won’t tell a soul. I just need to know.”

  “If I tell you here,” Brigitte looked over to the guard, “they’ll know.”

  Fae shook her head. “No, they won’t. Mr. Wright knew you wouldn’t say anything if they were listening. He was able to get a court order to have our conversation remain private—you know, like client/attorney privilege.”

  Brigitte looked doubtful. “Are you sure he wasn’t lying to you, honey baby?”

  “I’m sure,” Fae said. “I heard the approval from the judge himself.” Guilt gnawed at her. There was a time she never would have lied to her mother—no, Brigitte wasn’t her mother. I have nothing to feel guilty about! Brigitte was the one who kidnapped a baby and hid her away deep in the bayou.

  Brigitte’s eyes shifted from Fae to the guards and back. “Your birth mother got too close,” she whispered. “Much too close.”

  “Too close to what? Who is my mother?”

  “Your mother is dead, honey baby. I don’t know her name. I don’t know where she came from. I only know that she was murdered.”

  “Murdered? How? Why? What did she get too close to?”

  Brigitte chewed on her bottom lip—something she always did when she was extremely nervous.

  “Please, Mom. Answer me.”

  “The Fountain of Youth,” she said. “You were born in the waters of the Fountain of Youth. You are special, baby.”

  Fae only half listened to the rest of the conversation. It was too crazy to be believed. She spoke of guardians, sacred oaths, and murder. Nothing made sense.

  Several excruciating minutes later, the guard approached. “It’s time, Ms. Miller.”

  Brigitte snapped her mouth shut as Fae turned to the guard. “Thanks.”

  Fae didn’t offer Brigitte a goodbye. She gave her a regret-filled glance as she hung up the extension. Fae got all she was going to get—the delusions of a crazy woman. She left with her heart heavy in her chest. She had no clue as to who her parents were. Perhaps she would never find her family.

  Fae held back tears as she got in Mr. Wright’s car.

  “I’m really sorry, Fae.” She nodded. He’d heard the whole thing. He knew exactly how crazy Brigitte was. How had Fae not truly seen it before? The woman actually believed the Fountain of Youth was real. She thought Fae was some kind of… What? Supernatural being?

  Fae closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She was far from special. She was far from extraordinary. Unlike most people who grew up with a normal family and had a life with school, friends, dance lessons, girl scouts, Fae grew up with a crazy woman who thought magic existed and danger lurked behind every corner.

  Maybe she was special. But it was definitely not in a good way.

  Your mother is dead. The words replayed in her mind as Fae choked back tears. Was her mother truly dead? Or could this be just another delusion? Brigitte had said she was buried near the Fountain of Youth—somewhere west of Dixie highway. From what Brigitte described, it was a simple pond with a trickling waterfall fed by a spring.

  It probably didn’t exist.

  But Fae didn’t have anything else to go on. If only she had access to a car.

  “Here we are,” Mr. Wright said, pulling Fae from her thoughts.

  “Thank you…for everything.”

  “Sure thing, sweetie.”

  Chapter 8

  Several days later, Fae still hadn’t gotten over her visit with Brigitte. It would take her a long time to process all her emotions: anger, guilt, despair, regret…

  Maybe someday she could find it in herself to forgive Brigitte. But that day wasn’t today.

  Fae walked into her empty dorm room, eager to feel the cooling comfort of slipping between her bed sheets. Morgan was probably working late on a class project somewhere. Stripping down to her underwear, she slid her white, lacy nightgown over her head.

  Just as she stepped up the first rung on her ladder, her phone vibrated. Her bare feet padded over the cold, linoleum floor as she stepped over to her dresser. Morgan’s name lit up the screen.

  “Hello,” Fae answered.

  “Fae,” Morgan said,
her voice ringing with anxiety. “Are you in our room?”

  “Yeah,” Fae said. “I’m just headed to bed.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t go to bed yet. I’ve got a big problem. Mrs. Albrecht said someone is moving into our old room, and I just remembered. I left a box with some of my jewelry in it on the top shelf of my old closet, pushed clear to the back. I was going to grab it when we moved, but I totally spaced it. Can you go get it for me? I don’t want the new girl moving in and laying claim on it. I have my grandmother’s ring in there. I should have listened to my mom and left it home.”

  “No, no,” Fae said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.”

  “Thank you so much,” Morgan said. “You are the best roomie ever! Listen, I’ve got to go. Can you text me when you find it?”

  “Sure,” Fae said as she stepped from her room into the hall.

  Fae approached the door and hesitated. What if the girl was already there? Raising her fist, she knocked. She waited a minute and knocked again. Still no answer.

  Should she just go in? Or should she get Mrs. Albrecht? No. The girl obviously wasn’t in, and Morgan really needed her jewelry back.

  She tried the knob, and it turned easily in her hand. Stepping into the dark room, she turned on the light, and her heart skipped a beat. Someone had moved in.

  “Oh, shoot,” she whispered. She needed to get out fast. Rushing to Morgan’s old closet, Fae threw open the door and slapped her hand over her mouth.

  Beside the hanging sweaters and blouses, just above the rows of designer shoes, a young woman dangled from the curtain rod. Her milky eyes were open and her mouth hung askew. Her skin was white—not just pale, but freakin’ white! And her hands and feet…. Fae fought the sudden nausea that threatened to cause her to lose the contents of her stomach then and there.

  Fae backed away and shut the door. She swallowed bile as her mind raced. Here she was, breaking into a room, and she finds a dead body. Knowing her luck, she would end up cell mates with Brigitte. But still, she had to call the police. She—

  Wait a minute. She had Nick’s number. He did say to call him if she needed him for anything. And he was an FBI agent—one who knew her and seemed to actually like her.