The Nymph's Curse: The Collection

by Danica Winters

  “Neither of you had hard feelings?” Christos pressed.

  Ariadne looked at his broad nose. As he breathed, a hair from his nose vibrated and squirmed as it tried to escape. “Christos, if I didn’t care for Stavros, do you think I would be here?”

  Christos glanced at the blonde and shrugged. “You make a point.”

  “Yes. Now, if you will excuse me.” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed past the throng of people and opened the door.

  Stavros was sitting up in bed with his eyes closed. His neck was wrapped in white gauze, spotted with brown-red blotches where the blood had oozed and then dried. His face was pale and though she had known him for thousands of years, this was the first time he had ever looked old.

  Her heart clenched in her chest. She had never loved this man, but seeing him hurt and surrounded by people who would never know who he really was, she couldn’t help the pity that rose within her. She was one of only a few that knew what a powerful and caring man Stavros could be. He had many faults, but he had cared for her for more years than she could remember. Maybe she was wrong to have ended things between them.

  The door clicked shut behind her and he opened his eyes. Seeing her, he smiled tiredly. “Aria, you came.”

  “Hi, Stav. Flesh wound, eh?” she said, trying to lighten the thick air between them.

  He patted the bandage on his neck. “I just needed a vacation, but they forced me to wear the bandage to keep people from calling me ‘lazy.’”

  “Ah, good idea. You want to make voters feel sorry for you.” She looked over to the window, where floral arrangements were packed so tightly it looked as if a flower shop had exploded in the room. “Well, it looks like your little act is working.”

  His lips quivered with a smile.

  She looked back over her shoulder at the closed door. “Stavros, I’m sorry.”

  He stared quizzically at her. “Why?”

  “If I wouldn’t have planted the bones, you wouldn’t have been there. This wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Aria, I’ve had a bounty on my head for a long time. This was bound to happen eventually.” He sat up in bed and stretched out his back.

  “And who knows,” he continued with a strong, energetic voice. “Maybe this will bring an edge of intrigue to the island. There has to be some way to spin this to pick up the economy.”

  He will never change.

  Stavros looked out the window. “Maybe I can start hiring more police. That would make more jobs. It would definitely be a great way to gain public opinion.”

  “Stavros, you know as well as I do that this site needs to be shut down.”

  A thin nurse walked into the room with a knock. Stavros dropped back into bed. “Hello?” he said in a weak voice, ignoring Ariadne’s reminder.

  The big fake.

  “Oh, governor, how are you feeling?”

  “Well, my back … ”

  “Let me get that for you.” The busty nurse walked to the head of the bed and bent over to fluff the pillow behind Stavros’ head.

  His eyes wandered downward and Ariadne smiled. Same old Stavros.

  Ariadne walked out the door without saying goodbye.

  Bunny stood outside the room with fresh tears on her cheeks. “Is he doing any better? He’s so weak.”

  Ariadne smiled. “He’s weak all right.”

  Chapter Eight

  “The police have shut down the site,” Beau grumbled. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the window frame.

  Kaden flopped down on the bed with a squeak. “For how long?”

  Beau shrugged. “Who the hell knows between the bones and the shooting? Could be a day, could be a coupla weeks.”

  Beau pushed off from the wall and went over to his computer on the tiny desk. He opened up the lid and clicked a few buttons, no emails, no messages, nothing. Slamming the lid shut, he walked back to the window. He had only been in the apartment for a few hours, yet the walls had already begun to move in on him.

  He looked over at Kaden who had his hands under his head and his eyes closed. Beau couldn’t help but feel angry with the boy. The kid just didn’t understand what this meant. He had already lost days when he’d shown up on his doorstep and now he was losing an indefinite amount of time. Time was money and Kaden didn’t even seem to understand or care.

  Kaden pushed his ear buds into his ears and clicked on his MP3 player. Beau clenched his jaw. He needed to get out of the apartment.

  “Kae, I want you to stay here. I’m going for a walk.”

  Kaden pulled out his ear buds. “What?”

  “You stay. I’m going out,” Beau growled.

  “Trina and I were planning on meeting up later. Cool?”

  “Yeah. Whatever. When are you planning on being home?” As soon as the words escaped his lips, he knew he had screwed up. This place wasn’t his son’s home. This place was about as far as the kid had ever been away from home. And there he went bringing it up, bringing up that his mother had left him with a father he had barely known.

  Son of a bitch. He was never going to get this “father” thing down.

  Kaden coughed, then pushed the ear buds back into his ears. “Later, Beau.”

  Beau grabbed his wallet. Stepping out the door, he looked back and watched his pale, black-haired son sitting alone on the worn rented bed. “You wanna come with me?”

  Kaden gave him a dull, tired look. Beau stood there and waited for his son to answer, but Kaden only waved him off.

  Stepping out the front door of the apartment building, a brown snake slithered off the doorstep and disappeared into a small green bush. The boy in him wanted to go after the snake and take it back to his son to see, but the man in him made him stop. His son didn’t want him around. Kaden wanted to be left alone, and maybe things were easier that way.

  He walked aimlessly down the streets. An elderly Greek woman wearing a long black dress and a black head cover came out of a shop. He waved out of habit and the old woman glared at him suspiciously. Saying something he couldn’t understand, she turned her back on him and walked in the opposite direction. Even strangers were against him now.

  He came to a street market where vendors called to him in Greek and waved at him to visit their tables. He walked from table to table as he inspected everything from fresh fish to leather wallets, but he bought nothing. He passed by a small bar, its windows were filmed with grease and soot and only a yellow light could be seen from the outside.

  He kept walking. One merchant’s table was covered in red, yellow, and green spices. Stopping, he leaned in and pulled in the earthy scents of the warm, freshly ground powders. In a strange way, they reminded him of Ariadne. It could’ve been their vibrant colors or the way they made his mouth water, but for a moment, he could think of nothing but the feel of her against his body.

  He had screwed up with her. He should have never touched her. From the way the governor had kissed her, it was clear that she was spoken for.

  Why had he let himself kiss her?

  Now the one person he really knew and liked, besides his son and his crew, hated him. All because he couldn’t control his damn urges. What was he, some teenager? Was being around Kaden and Trina beginning to rub off on him?

  He didn’t have time for a woman in his life, certainly not a woman who didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He was too old to go chasing after someone.

  And what will happen if Ariadne is a flake like Lynda? He shook his head. There was no way the beautiful brunette who ran the museum, was kind to a boy she didn’t even know, and was willing to help a lackluster archeologist, was anything less than amazing.

  The next stand was filled with fruit and vegetables, and the man behind the table was dark from the sun. “Whatchu need?”

>   He looked the surly guy in the eye. “To be honest, I need a little good luck. You got any of that?”

  The dark-haired man stared down at him for a moment. All of a sudden, the beefy man chuckled. His body jiggled. “Don’t we all?” The man picked up an apple and tossed it to him. “Here, this’s the best I can do.”

  Beau nodded and lifted the apple. “Hey, it’s a start. Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

  The man laughed. “On the house. But when you find some luck, come back and find me.”

  Beau smiled. “Will do … ”

  He hadn’t made it far when he saw a familiar brunette head and yellow sundress. Slung on her arm was a cotton bag with an orange flower poking over the edge. She was talking to a merchant, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she smiled with her whole face made his heart shift in his chest. He had never noticed the way she talked with her hands, or the way she flipped her hair over her shoulder the moment before she laughed.

  He walked toward her as if there was a magnet in his center that pulled him in her direction.

  He stood behind her for a moment. “I’m glad to see you are okay.”

  God … I’m so suave …

  Ariadne jerked. “What?” She turned away from the merchant and faced him. “Oh … hi, Beau.”

  His cheeks warmed. “I just said I was glad you were feeling okay. I mean after everything that happened. You know with the governor and everything. I was worried. I mean, I wasn’t sure how you would take it. I mean … God, I’m sorry I’m yammering.”

  She smiled and there was a light in her eyes. “Don’t worry about yammering, Beau. It’s nice to see you. And I’m fine.”

  “Is the governor okay?”

  Ariadne stared at him with her golden eyes as questions played across her face. “I think he’ll recover.”

  He could skirt around the issue, but he needed to know the truth and put an end to the fluctuating emotions that were invading his life. “What’s going on between you two?”

  Her shoulders fell. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business … ”

  She stepped away from the merchant’s stand. “Stavros and I’ve known each other a long time.”

  Beau’s phone rang and its interruption came as a relief. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he looked down at the caller ID, George Tramp, his contact at the NSF. He looked up at Ariadne. “Sorry, I have to answer this, but don’t go anywhere.”

  She smiled and turned back to the vegetable merchant.

  Beau walked around the corner, opened the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hello, Dr. Morris speaking.”

  His heart raced. Hopefully George was calling him to let him know the grant had come through.

  “Hello, Beau. This is Dr. Tramp, with the National Science Foundation.”

  “Yes? How can I help you?”

  “Well, Beau, I’m calling to let you know that we were impressed with your last find … ” There was a long pause. “However, I just received a call about the incident with Governor Kakos.”

  Oh shit … how did he find out so fast?

  “Safety is our number one concern for those taking part in research we facilitate, safety not only for those in the field, but for those who are influenced by their work as well. As it stands, we have enormous concerns about your work.”

  No … no … no …

  Beau gulped. “Well, sir, I can promise you that this was an isolated incident. I doubt that it had anything to do with our dig.”

  “Either way, we are worried about your safety.”

  Tramp had him backed into a corner. How was he going to get out?

  He waited for the axe to fall.

  “As such, I am sorry to inform you, but we will no longer be able to fund your work. And it may be in your and your team’s best interests to return to the U.S. at the end of the month.”

  Two weeks. The phone slipped in Beau’s hand. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

  Tramp sighed. “It would take an act of God. Beau … I’m sorry. I’ll contact Professor Ryan and let him know.”

  The world around him went blurry and the sounds of the market were muffled. “Yeah … you’re sorry … ”

  “Don’t be afraid to come see me when you get back. Again, I’m sorry.” The phone line went dead.

  Beau’s hand fell and he leaned back into the wall, next to a garbage can. The punches just wouldn’t stop coming. Maybe it would be better to leave Crete, go back to the States, back to the school, and forget about this project. Cut his losses. The head of the college would have something to say, but what could he do? Fire him? Yeah … he could fire him all right.

  Beau slid the phone in his pocket and clenched his eyes shut. Why can’t anything go right?

  “You okay?” Ariadne said, her voice cutting through the ringing in his ears.

  He opened his eyes. Ariadne stared at him.

  He couldn’t say anything. What could he say? He had failed? He was a loser? He stared into her glittering eyes, and for a moment, reminded himself to breathe.

  Ariadne smiled. “You do realize you are holding an apple in your hand, right?”

  He looked down at the red orb he was clutching in his left hand. Funny he would ask for luck and life would hand him an apple — the symbol of evil temptation, failure, and disgrace.

  Ariadne reached over and took the orb from his numb fingers. She stood up and smiled empathetically. “Are you hungry?”

  He limply shook his head “no.” Food was the furthest thing from his mind. He needed to find the Labyrinth, he needed to find a new grant — and both things would be damned hard to find in two weeks.

  “Great, I’m starving.” She took a bite of the red, corrupted apple. A drip slipped down the corner of her mouth and she brushed it away with the tips of her fingers.

  The apple rolled from her hand and dropped into the garbage can with a thud. “What’s going on with you, Beau? Aren’t you happy about the site being opened to visitors?” she asked, but her voice was filled with a distinct edge of anger.

  “Someone called the NSF.”

  “What?” she asked, as she wiped her fingers against the hem of her yellow sundress.

  “They cut my funding.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his face as she dropped the edge of her dress. A smile flickered across her lips, but was quickly replaced by a look of concern. “What are you going to do?”

  He looked at her golden eyes and let his gaze move down to her dirt-smudged shirt.

  She hasn’t changed since we’d been together in the tent …

  He smiled, wild and menacing. “You know what, Aria? I’m gonna fight. I’m gonna fight ’til I find what I know is there. I’m gonna dig until my fingers bleed and I have no skin left on my knees. I’m going to change history.”

  Beau grabbed her hand and pulled her into the street. “Where are we going?” she asked, but allowed him to lead her without protest.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed through the crowds of people until he finally reached the small bar he had spotted.

  Ariadne pulled back. “Let’s go somewhere else. Trust me … The Mouse Hole isn’t a great place for tourists.”

  Ignoring her, he put his hand on the door and pushed. The door opened with a loud creak and he pulled Ariadne inside. A table of ribald men looked up as they entered. The largest of the group looked past him and smiled at Ariadne with a mouth full of black teeth. The man ran his hands over his greasy hair, and Beau pulled Ariadne in the opposite direction. They had been through enough for one day; all they needed was a drink.

  A big-chested woman stomped over to their table with a begrudging sigh. She bent over as she reached for the menus at the far side o
f the table, and her breasts threatened to spill over the thin fabric of her grease-stained top. Ten years earlier, the woman may have been considered attractive, but with a finger of gray in her almost-black hair mixed with the creases around her lips, she bordered on disturbing. The saying “ridden hard and put away wet” came to mind as he tried to look anywhere but at her over-tanned cracking chest, which rested in front of his face.

  She thrust the menus into each of their hands. “Whatta ya want?” she grumbled.

  Crete was known for their great wines, but from the flickering lights and the dank smell of urine that wafted around them, this bar didn’t seem like the right place to order a Shiraz. “Ouzo, straight up.”

  The woman made a grumbling noise and looked at Ariadne. Ariadne shifted slightly in her seat. She turned the menu over in her hands and her tattoo came into view. The barkeep sucked in her breath. “I’m sorry, Mistress … I didn’t recognize you.” The woman wiped her dirty fingers on the thighs of her skirt, leaving a grimy trail in their wake.

  Ariadne shook her head slightly. “We’ll take two of those, in regular glasses.”

  The lady spun on her heel and almost sprinted back to the wooden bar.

  “Regular glasses?” he asked, confused by what had just transpired.

  She looked at him and smiled. “Yes. You don’t want the ones they give the tourists.”

  She didn’t need to say more. “Why’d she treat you like you’re royalty?”

  Just then, the waitress came back with two sparkling glasses filled to the lip with the clear ouzo. Setting down napkins, she gently placed the full glasses in front of them with a tiny bow. “These’re on the house.”

  Ariadne nodded. As the woman turned, Beau noticed a small tattoo of a mouse on the woman’s ankle. In a way, it was comical, a tiny little mouse on such a brusque woman. He looked over at Ariadne’s arm, but the snake was covered — it was odd to be around two people with tattoos that in no way seemed to epitomize their personalities.

  People were strange.

  The man with the wide nose stared at him. Beau poured the ouzo into his mouth, and it was like a fire as it rippled down his throat. He held back the urge to cough.