The Nymph's Curse: The Collection

by Danica Winters

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The business lounge was filled with people in black. Black suits, black dresses, and black expressions. It seemed unlikely the rest of them had just lied and told the most important person in their life they didn’t love them — that they didn’t want a future, when in fact it was the one thing they wanted above anything else. But there were times when even a demigod had to be selfless. Life wasn’t a fairy tale. Life was life, hard, filled with anger, lies, deception, and death. If Harper could stop just one person she loved from dying by keeping away, then that was what had to be done — she’d already lost her sister, she couldn’t lose another person she loved.

  The chair dug into the back of Harper’s legs as if even it wanted her to move along, like it knew she would only bring death to those around her. Shifting to ease the pressure, she glanced down at her watch.

  Dr. McDougal was late. She should have never trusted him to come through on his word. He had nothing to gain in their agreement. Her only hope was that her seduction and appealing to his softer side had paid off — if not, hell would have no greater fury.

  If he didn’t come, they would be in the same situation — no answers, only a limited supply of drugs, and a bleak future for Starling. The only option the young woman would have would be to turn into her animal form. She would have to stay there until Harper could find something, anything, that would help Starling deal with the spirits which haunted her day and night, taunting and pressing her to communicate through words that were often best left unwritten and unanswered.

  If Harper couldn’t help her, Starling would have no future, no hope for a somewhat normal life. And once again, Harper would disappoint another person — just like she had let Jenna down. She couldn’t make the same mistake again.

  The edge of the seat cut deeper into her skin. Unable to stand the annoyance any longer, Harper stood up. To her right, down a dimly lit hall, was a women’s restroom. One more time, Harper glanced around the business lounge, but Dr. McDougal wasn’t to be seen. She couldn’t help feeling this was like watching a pot of water and waiting for it to boil. She walked to the restroom — if this worked like the rest of her life, he would show up while she was away.

  The anteroom of the restroom matched the rest of the Bellagio with its gold and suede-covered chairs that were beautiful, but ill-suited for comfort. Passing through the empty room, she made her way to the row of gold sinks with matching gold faucets. Dropping her purse on the counter next to the sink, she stared up at her reflection in the mirror. The week had been drawing on her like a ravenous suckling babe, leaving only a skeletal woman with deep bags beneath her once light-filled eyes.

  It would soon be all over. In a few days, she would be back in Seattle, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that life would return to normal. Yes, she would be home, but too much had changed in the last week. Life would never be the same. She no longer had family. And she’d constantly be barraged with thoughts of what might have been with Chance had she made a different choice.

  Digging through her purse, she found her lipstick and pressed the waxy tip to her lips, covering them with the fake color. She dabbed her lips on a tissue, and once again stared at her reflection. She couldn’t draw her eyes away from the red hues. The color was a counterfeit in the way it promised of life and beauty, but instead covered the dull prospect that was she, and her future. If she went back to Seattle, her job would be just like the fake color — it would only be there for the sake of appearances, but beneath it all would be the pale nothingness that came with being empty and alone.

  Unable to bear her reflection any longer, Harper turned away just as a man with fear-filled eyes staggered into the bathroom.

  “Harper,” Dr. McDougal’s strangled voice echoed through the cavernous space. “Run. Don’t give her your sister’s keys.”

  “What keys?”

  Dr. McDougal dropped to the floor, and a manila envelope fell out of his jacket. A needle protruded from his neck.

  Harper moved to run, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped.

  Standing behind the body was a small beak-nosed woman. The woman smiled, reminding Harper of a bird in the way woman’s beady eyes skimmed over the room before settling upon her like she was the next prey to scavenge.

  “Harper, I’ve been looking for you.” The woman stepped forward and picked up the manila envelope from the floor with a confused frown. Shrugging indifferently, she stuffed the envelope into her purse.

  Dr. McDougal twitched on the floor as the convulsions of death rippled through his body.

  “Who are you?”

  The woman smiled; her small teeth only lacked dripping blood to make her appear more frightening. “Don’t you remember me? I’m offended.”

  Then it struck her — the beak-nosed woman was the woman from Jenna’s funeral. She’d spent so much time thinking about Carey and Chance that she’d almost completely forgotten about the chief medical examiner. “What are you doing here, Dr. Redbird?” Harper tried not to stare as Dr. McDougal’s legs bounced around the floor like fish out of water.

  “You have something I want.”

  What was the woman talking about? The only thing she had was her job and a little bit of money, neither of which the doctor could have wanted. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Dr. Redbird stepped over Dr. McDougal’s quivering body, coming much too close to Harper. She scanned the room for anything she could use to defend herself, but Harper found nothing.

  The doctor reached down into her purse and extracted another needle filled with some type of clear fluid. “If you do what I ask, I won’t have to kill you. If you refuse, you will end up just like this idiot.” She jabbed the body with the tip of her red, alligator skin high heel. “I tried to tell him, but he wanted to play hardball, to lie and say he didn’t know what I was talking about … You don’t want to end up like him, do you?”

  Harper shook her head. She had no idea what Dr. Redbird was talking about and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to find out.

  “Are you going to help me?” There was a strange, crazed look in Dr. Redbird’s eyes. Harper took a step toward the door, but Dr. Redbird stepped in her way. “There’s no escape. You will do as I wish or you will die, just like Carey.”

  “What? You killed her?” Her words were less of a question and more of an accusation. She thought of how Jenna had tried to warn her by having Starling write the word “red.” Had Jenna been telling her to watch for Dr. Redbird?

  She was answered with the tight-lipped smile of the crazed woman. “If she would have just given me the drugs, none of this would have ever happened. But no … Her damned daughter was more important. Just give me the GX 149 and I’ll leave you with your life.”

  With Dr. McDougal dead, there would be no more drugs, only the little bit which she still had to ration out to Starling. If she gave Dr. Redbird what little they had left, there would be nothing. Starling would be lost. Unless the manila envelope Dr. McDougal had dropped carried the formula to GX 149 …

  Harper needed to get the envelope — it was the only hope she had left to help Starling.

  “What do you want with the drugs?” Harper asked, trying not to stare at the woman’s purse.

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business. All you need to worry about is giving me what I want.”

  “You can’t kill me,” Harper said, taking another step toward the door.

  Dr. Redbird’s cackle echoed through the stony bathroom. “That’s where you’re wrong.” She lifted a thin strand of her mousy brown hair and twirled it in her fingers. “You may think you and your little shifter friends are immortal, but I know better. You, just like Carey, would be easy to dispatch.”

  Harper shrank back from the woman and brushed down her hair. />
  “Don’t act shocked. Didn’t you stop to think anything was amiss when none of your sister’s peculiarities showed up in the autopsy report? Only someone like me, someone who knew the truth of the world and your kind, could have covered it so neatly. ”

  “I’ve never even read the autopsy report,” she wheezed.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t think more of my work than to not even read my eloquent report. I did a fabulous job of concealing the truth. I thought at least someone like you, someone who has spent her whole life dodging the secret and curse of her kind, could appreciate my efforts.”

  “Did you have something to do with … with Jenna’s death?” A stream of rage gurgled up from her depths at the mere thought.

  The woman released another vile cackle. “Those men were stupid, but they were onto something. Why can’t supernaturals like us have children? Why can’t we have what most humans take for granted?”

  Supernaturals like us, she’d said. But Harper knew Dr. Redbird was nothing like her — from the look of the woman, she was no nymph. And from the dead man at her feet, they couldn’t have been more different. She would have never killed an innocent. Dr. McDougal had been a lab geek, but he’d never posed a threat. He hadn’t deserved to die.

  Harper glared at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that … Not all of us can be as lucky to be pretty and popular as you and your weak little sisterhood of nymphs. Some of us have to work for what we get in life. Some of us aren’t blessed with popularity and seduction. You and your kind aren’t anything but a bunch of stuck up little sluts.”

  “You don’t know anything about me … or my kind.”

  “Oh really? Are you really going to try and tell me you haven’t been fucking that pompous asshole, Chance Landon?”

  The wind rushed from Harper’s lungs.

  Dr. Redbird’s disgusting smile widened. “I bet you want to go running to him right now, don’t you? You and your kind always need a man to rescue you … you sluts.”

  The anger that pulsed through Harper’s veins seized her mind. “Fuck off. I don’t give a shit if you kill me. You aren’t getting anything, you bitch.”

  “The good thing about me and my kind is that we take what we want. We don’t care what you feeble little things think. I’ll get what I want one way or another.”

  “What are you?”

  “I’m a Catharterian.”

  “A vulture-shifter?” Dr. Redbird, the humble civil servant who focused her life on working with the dead? Of course. The woman was a scavenger, feasting on the woes of others. If only Harper had been paying more attention, maybe she would have seen the woman for what she really was, but no, she had been too wrapped up in her affairs to take into account everything that had been going on around her.

  Dr. Redbird scoffed. “Don’t act like you are better than me. You’re not. I’m the one holding the death juice, remember?” She lifted the needle and jiggled its contents. “You are going to give me the GX 149.”

  “No. I don’t care if you kill me.”

  “Then I will kill your precious little halfling, Starling, and your dirty lover, Chance.”

  “You wouldn’t hurt them.”

  Dr. Redbird’s foot connected with Dr. McDougal’s motionless body. “Wanna make a bet?”

  Harper glanced down at Dr. McDougal’s eyes. They stared out at nothingness. For a brief second, she wondered what it would be like to have no more pain, no more choices, and no more guilt. In a way, Dr. McDougal’s lifeless body was enviable, all of his imperfections, every mistake he had made were now forgiven and forgotten. He was sinless.

  If Harper gave up, if she let this vile, carrion-fed vulture win, she would die knowing she gave up — and would die a coward. Harper was many things: workaholic, control freak, bull-headed, but she’d never once thought of herself as a coward — and she wasn’t about to start being one now, not when so many people depended on her, now when she could really make a difference.

  She loved Starling. She loved Chance. Life would always be hard, but maybe she could make it a little easier for the people she loved. And right now, the best thing she could do for the both of them was play along with the crazed vulture.

  “Fine. The drugs are yours.”

  “Good. I didn’t want to have to take things this far. I’m glad you finally see the light. If only Carey could have listened and handed over the drugs. I would have never had to kill her.”

  Harper tried to quell the fear rising in her belly. A vulture couldn’t be trusted. The insatiable greed for death and mayhem was their calling card. Death always followed in their wake.

  “I’ve been watching you, Harper.” The woman dropped the needle, the plastic cylinder resting on her black pants. “I see the way you fawn over Starling, like she is some little girl in need of saving. You need to know the truth. You need to know where she came from. What kind of woman her mother really was … All Carey cared about was herself and her drugs. The only good thing she ever did was die.”

  “She didn’t deserve to die just because she wasn’t willing to put her daughter in danger and give you the drugs. She was a great mom. She was willing to die to help the one she loved.”

  “Oh don’t act like Carey Jackson was innocent. Really, I think I did you a favor in getting rid of that woman.” The doctor shoved the needle down into her purse. “Now, if you aren’t going to do what I tell you, then I will just go after Starling. That little bitch will give me everything I need.”

  Harper took in a deep breath. “I’ll take you up to the penthouse. I only have a small amount of GX 149 left, but I’ll give you everything I have.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The snapping sound of the cards mixed with the click of the plastic chips as the players sat down around the poker table. The familiar noises made Chance’s skin tingle with excitement. When he was away for a few days it was easy to forget how much he loved this game, but sitting here, surrounded by the sounds of the tournament chips and the nervous chatter of his competitors, it all pulled him back in. This was the life he was meant to live. It was just too bad Harper couldn’t see the value of his dreams.

  She had said she didn’t love him. Nothing had ever hurt him more … not his divorce … nothing. It had been ridiculous of him to assume what he had been feeling was going to work out. He’d been an idiot. He should’ve followed his gut when he’d first met her. A woman like her was never going to want to be with a drifter like him. She had proven herself to be like every other woman he’d been with — she wanted the whole white picket fence thing. And that was never going to be something he was going to be able to offer. All he could give was his love and she had turned him away.

  For a fleeting second he wondered if it was all some act — was it possible she was only doing this out of fear?

  He glanced around Bobby’s Room, the area of the Bellagio set aside for high-stakes games. Vice was talking to the player to his right, almost as if purposefully trying to not interact with Three-Eyed Nate. As Chance turned, Nate sneered at him.

  A crowd of onlookers had formed inside the doors that led into the room. A few cameras flashed, giving the room a strange party feel. Starling was once again huddled in a corner, concentrated on her book. Everyone was there for the multimillion-dollar show. Everyone except Harper.

  If she did love him, she would have been down in the room, showing her support — she had to be done with Dr. McDougal by now. He tried to control some of his wavering emotions. Harper was helping Starling, he had to remember that. She was trying to help his daughter. Even if she didn’t care about him, she did care about Starling. Very few times in his life had someone been so giving or so willing to help. The thought only made him want her more.

  Looking to the door, he silently begged she would break through the crowd and meet him with a wanti
ng smile, but he was only met with a burly man wearing black leather chaps leading a scared looking businessman around on a leash. Chance snorted as he remembered the businessman from the lobby when they had arrived.

  Across the room from the Dom and his Sub, Kodie leaned against the wall as he talked with Mr. Blackwater and his bodyguard. Chance hated to think what they were talking about.

  “Hey, Take-A-Chance, I hope you and Kodie have my money,” Three-Eyed Nate growled from across the poker table as they waited for the game to begin.

  The four other players stared at Chance like he was a sheep being led to slaughter. “We got it. Kodie is good to his word.”

  Chance tried not to stare up at the tattooed eye in the middle of Three-Eyed Nate’s head. When Nate frowned the inked eye seemed to blink shut, the effect made Chance want to look away. It was a smart ploy by a poker player to use such a hideous diversion — the creepy eye was guaranteed to draw the focus away from the activity at the table, or in this case, the threat Nate posed.

  The dealer shuffled the deck one more time and laid his hands down on the table, in true Vegas style. The player to the left of the dealer put out a blind, similar to an ante, and was followed with a big blind by the man to his left. The muffled sounds of slot machines and bells echoed into the room from the main casino floor.

  Nerves crept up Chance’s spine. This was it. Either they were going to win and pay back Nate, or they would have to trust the gaming commissioner to follow through on his end of the deal. A card slid across the felt and stopped at Chance’s fingertips as the dealer made his way clockwise around the table.

  Three-Eyed Nate leaned forward and lifted the edge of his cards. The fading tattoo on his forehead squinted, as if it too was trying to see the cards. The second card slid across the table and stopped at the edges of Chance’s fingertips.