by Lynde Lakes
He drew her close and trailed warm kisses down her neck while he massaged her back, her derriere. She felt a twinge between her legs. “All right.” She tried to relax and not appear too eager as he lowered her to the air mattress. But when he touched her with his long, warm fingers, she caught fire and tried to match him touch for touch.
“Easy,” he whispered into her ear. “Let’s keep it slow and rhythmic. I want to make the kind of tender love to you that a man makes to a woman when he cherishes her to the depths of his soul. And it has to be the appropriate lovemaking to christen our precious unborn little girls’ nursery.”
Angela felt a rush of tears. No wonder she loved him. And slow was good. Oh, so earth-shakingly good, she decided, as the sensations built like a crescendo and then exploded into a sky full of fiery shooting stars.
They lay together for a long time whispering and sharing dreams in their afterglow. After a while, as the glow faded, she lifted herself on her elbow and she told him of her less romantic plans. “I want you to hire someone to install a door from our room into here. And I’ve been reading about some cool security gadgets for children’s rooms. With the new equipment, no matter where I am in the house, I can flip on a monitor remote with video and view the whole room and hear even the slightest sounds.”
“We use a similar system at my office. I’ll get my security team to set it up for you.”
“I have lots of ideas you can help me with. And I’ll need your help painting and papering.”
“No painting while pregnant. I’ll hire someone to do that, too. You just tell me what you want and I’ll see to it,” he said.
“Terrific. That’s really sweet of you.” More strangers in the house, she thought, shuddering.
Weeks later, when the projects were finished, she beamed. The painters had done an excellent job. The security was installed and she, her mom, and Damon had magically turned the room into a pink wonderland of twin baby furniture, soft, cuddly toys, and musical mobiles. She only had a few more things to buy.
The next day, coming down the escalator in a department store, she felt someone’s chilling gaze on her. She turned and saw Dudley right behind her, sneering. He thrust out an arm, feigning a push gesture. She tightened her grip on the banister and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Just as she hoped, everyone looked her way and Dudley disappeared.
When she returned home, she was afraid to tell Damon—afraid he’d follow through on his threat and kill the man. And then she’d lose her husband and her little girls’ daddy to jail.
The only one she told was Kat, and it seems Kat told her boyfriend, Deeto, who shared the information with his motorcycle buddies. Angela heard from Louise the bookkeeper that when Dudley left work the next night, a gang of men made hamburger out of his face. It was dark and he couldn’t identify his attackers, but he told the police and anyone else who’d listen that he strongly suspected the assault was led by Damon Lamont. While Dudley deserved the beating, Angela worried he’d get revenge on her husband, who knew nothing of the attack. And since Dudley was basically a coward, she expected the payback to be sneaky.
After several days of fearing for Damon’s safety, she told him of the assault and warned him of Dudley’s belief that he was behind it. She left out the part about the escalator incident to keep Damon from going after the toad himself.
As the time grew closer to give birth, it seemed her worries continued to pile up. But, somehow, with Damon’s constant assurances that everything would be fine, she forced aside her fears.
When she finally gave birth to her beautiful twin girls, she decided to give them strong warrior names, Victoria, the victorious, and Valerie, the valiant. Victoria, only minutes older, had wisps of shiny onyx hair, and Valerie had fuzz the color of lemons. Otherwise the girls were identical. Their beauty took her breath away. Both had heart-shaped faces, but somehow, Victoria seemed stronger, more dominant, and her cry more demanding. Tears welled in Angela’s eyes, and love and hope mushroomed in her heart. Heavenly Father, let my babies be as perfect as they look, and swath them in your protective love.
It had taken a week for Angela to regain her strength after the grueling double birth. It was a good thing she’d quit her job. Caring for the girls took up most of her time and energy. In spite of her happiness, Madam Nola was constantly on her mind. Angela sighed. Every time she thought about contacting the unpredictable psychic, she remembered the mighty little medium had asked them to wait until the first full moon after the twins’ third birthday to call. Until then, she could only watch over her daughters and remain alert to even the slightest indication of any transformation or behaviors that might reveal they were afflicted with the curse. She frowned. It was sheer agony to wait. She wanted things settled about her girls…wanted to know they were perfectly normal.
Finally, it was the first full moon after their third birthday and, with trembling hands, she dialed.
The phone rang a dozen times before the little psychic came on the line.
“Lovely to hear from you, Angela,” she said in a perky voice. “How is the family?”
Angela counted to ten. “That’s what we need you to tell us,” she said, unable to conceal her impatience. Then, without any preliminaries, she blurted out, “Please, we’d like your first available appointment.”
“Of course, my dear, would two tomorrow afternoon work for you?”
Her heart pounded. “Yes, yes, any time. We’ll be there.”
“Good. Be sure to bring your girls.”
Angela froze. “Is that necessary?”
“Absolutely.”
Angela wanted to protest, but if this was the only way to learn her twins’ fate, she’d have to bite the bullet and bring them along.
Later, when she told Damon about it, he immediately called the spiritualist. Apparently, Madam Nola convinced him the need was crucial and promised to protect them from scary images.
When Angela and Damon went to bed, she couldn’t sleep. She was both frightened and excited. Damon, as always, offered to massage her back to relax her. His gaze darkened, but rather than danger, she saw only passion. His golden and glinting velvety-brown eyes, although no longer feral, still dazzled and devastated her. “Turn over,” he said in a commanding tone.
Wolf or man, he was an alpha through and through. And his masculine confidence was his most attractive and persuasive quality. She forced herself to breathe. “Only because I want to,” she said in a low purr. But she was at his disposal. The heat of his touch had already turned her body into a malleable handful of clay to stroke and mold to his pleasure. And, happily, to her striving, shuddering climax.
When Damon pulled up to the curb outside Madam Nola’s house, Angela looked over her shoulder into the backseat and said, “Thanks again for coming, Mom. Hopefully, between the three of us, if necessary, we can block and divert the girls’ attention. Remember, if anything at all negative appears on the crystal, grab their hands and hustle them back to the car.”
“I don’t feel good about this,” Mom said, her eyes wary. “Let’s not take them in until you make sure Madam Nola has a plan in place to protect my grandbabies from scary images. When you signal that she does, I’ll bring them in.” Mom held up a Little Red Riding Hood picture book. “We’ll be aptly entertained.”
Angela frowned. “A wolf story—good grief, Mom.”
“No worry. I’m making up my own version.”
Damon laughed. “I’d like to hear that account myself.”
Mom chuckled low in her throat. “I’ll bet you would.”
“Mom, you’re incorrigible,” Angela said as she and Damon left the car. They paused and threw kisses to the twins, then headed up the flagstone walkway.
Angela took a few steps and looked back.
Damon grabbed her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
Angela nodded and tried to get over her uneasiness by admiring the lush green landscaping and quaint architecture. “I wonder if our lit
tle darlings will notice that Madam Nola’s home resembles a gingerbread house.”
Damon snorted. “Maybe we should teach them early on that looks can be deceiving.”
She blew out a gust of breath. “With comments like that, you’re not helping me to chill out.” The fact that the front door stood ajar didn’t help either. It was eerily quiet inside. Then she heard the lonely flutter of wings. Her neck prickled. “Hello, anyone there?” She glanced at her watch. “We’re right on time.” Her heart pounded. She called out again—more silence.
“Are you sure she said two?” Damon asked.
“Positive.”
He rang the bell twice. Nothing. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll check around back.”
Damon had barely disappeared from sight when suddenly Madam Nola appeared, barefoot, with her silver robe ripped at the shoulder. Without her spiked heels, she was barely as tall as a third grader. Her crowns of platinum-blonde curls were frazzled. The ruby and emerald crystals woven into each kinky strand of hair hung by a thread. The wisps that usually coiled around her ears looked damp and limp.
“What happened?” Angela asked.
“Someone broke in and slaughtered my Cockatoo, Ka,” Madam Nola said around a pitiful sob. She was trembling like a Chihuahua pup. She pressed her lips tightly together as if fighting to hold back more tears. Her Egyptian made-up eyes were badly smudged and trails of black ran down her flushed cheeks. After a moment, she wiped away the dampness with the hem of her gown, leaving two black streaks. She lifted her chin. “When I came out of the shower, the attacker jumped me, too. But, with Ba’s help, I fought him off.”
Damon rounded the house. “The slider glass is shattered and it’s off its track,” he said. “And—” He froze, his eyes wide. “My God, what happened?”
Angela glanced toward the Camry and held up her hand in a stop gesture and mouthed, “Stay put.” Her mom nodded that she understood.
Madam Nola repeated her story to Damon then stepped aside and invited them in.
The room was a chaos of feathers and blood. An acrid, metallic odor hung in the room.
“I called the police,” Madam Nola said, her voice high-pitched as though on the verge of hysteria.
Damon nodded, frowning.
Angela glanced at the sole Cockatoo on its perch. Its scowling beady eyes, hooked beak, and sharp-looking claws looked ready to attack at their first suspicious move. The empty perch beside it swayed slightly as though the slaughtered parrot’s ghost still remained, clinging to the last vestige of existence. A new rush of tears moistened her eyes. To distract herself from her breaking heart, she studied the room. The small, round table with a black lace tablecloth had only a velvet cover thrown down on it like a discarded napkin. Oh, God. Where is the crystal ball?
Chapter Four
Angela scanned the rest of the room and sighed in relief when she spied the crystal ball up against the drapes where it must have rolled during the melee. She glanced at Damon and Madam Nola. Neither of them seemed to have noticed it. She bent and lifted it up in both hands and gently placed it in the center of the table.
Suddenly, a scene of the wild, hilly acreage behind the mansion filled the flashing orb. A fiery hand reached into the soupy mud. When it withdrew, its flaming fist was covered in ash. It hovered a moment then shot deep into the earth, taking the ash with it.
Then the orb went totally black.
Madam Nola gasped. “That’s never happened before.”
“What?” Damon asked.
“The crystal ball has never come alive without my prompting it.”
“What’s the significance?”
Before Madam Nola could answer, a male voice shouted, “Police!”
Madam Nola called in a trembly voice, “Come in.”
Officer Haywood swaggered into the room followed by his partner, Officer Montoya. Haywood stopped and glared at Damon. “You again,” he said. “What do you know about all this?”
“Nothing,” Damon said in a low, calming voice. “My wife and I learned of the breakin when we came for our scheduled appointment. This is Madam Nola. She’s the one who called the police.”
Haywood looked down at Madam Nola, his expression skeptical. “You’re the complainant?”
She stood a little taller and nodded.
He frowned. “Full name?”
“Madam Nola Crow Nobiyah.”
“Okay, Madam Nobiyah. I’ll need your statement.” He gave Damon a hard look. “We’ll need yours, too. But this is a crime scene. So step outside with Officer Montoya and give him your information. He’ll have you sign an incident report.”
“Please, we’d like to stay. We’re friends of Madam Nola.”
“Touching. But wait outside. You can console her after I take my report and my investigators arrive to comb the place for evidence.”
As Damon hustled Angela out the door, he called over his shoulder to Madam Nola, “I think we’ll take the girls on home. If you need anything, let us know. We’ll call for a rescheduling. And let’s talk about upgrading your security.”
Madam Nola nodded, then with a trembly voice, began telling Officer Haywood about the breakin, the attack on her, and the slaughter of her beautiful Cockatoo.
Damon whispered, “I’d like to hear her description of the assailant.”
“Me, too,” Angela said. “So let’s stay. He can’t order us around like that.”
Damon kissed her temple. “It’ll serve us better to comply. I believe in picking my battles—then making them count.”
“You’re right.” The other advantage to a quick exit, she thought, is to escape the sight of the sickening, acrid-smelling, bloody massacre.
Outside, Officer Montoya had them fill out and sign an incident report. Then he let them go.
When they entered the car, her wide-eyed mom asked, “What’s going on?”
Before Angela could answer, Damon glanced over his shoulder at her mom and said, “Let’s get away from here to talk.” Prior to starting the car, he gave Angela a quick hug, no doubt to buoy her strength. He probably couldn’t tell it by the tremors rippling through her body, but her building anger was helping to steel her nerves.
After they turned onto Foothill Boulevard, Damon said, “It was a breakin turned violent, Mother Ward. Angela can fill in the details when our little girls aren’t around.”
“I’ll call tonight with all the particulars,” Angela said, feeling a bit stifled.
Mom nodded and hugged the girls tightly. Angela wished she was in the backseat to hug them, too. She needed to feel her little girls in her arms and soak up their sweetness, their innocence. “Thanks for keeping the girls outside. Going in would have given them nightmares for years.”
After they tucked their girls into bed that night and retired to the sanctity of their bedroom, Angela couldn’t wait any longer to speak her mind. “The breakin and the bloody slaughter of that beautiful white Cockatoo was enough to handle. But that image in the crystal really unnerved me. That fiery clawed hand plunging into the earth looked pure evil.”
Damon drew her into his arms. His face looked gray, his eyes worried. “That’s why I set up the lab, Honey. We’ll dig until we have answers for the weird phenomena and then take action to rectify it.”
Angela nodded. It wouldn’t be that simple, but she admired his strength and take-charge attitude. “I wish I felt the police were on our side. By the stern way Officer Haywood looked at you and spoke to you, I think he’d like to tie you to the breakin.”
“We’ll just have to prove him wrong. I’ll call Madam Nola tomorrow and get her description of the intruder and anything else she can tell me about the breakin.”
“And you’ll make another appointment with her?”
His long, piercing look worried Angela. Finally, he said, “If she feels up to it. Madam Nola went through a rough time today. Now, let me give you a relaxing back rub and let’s try to forget all this for a while.”
“I’m not su
re I can.”
“Try,” he said. His dark-lashed, amber-brown eyes glinted with love. He bent toward her and his ink-black hair came alive with the blue-sapphire rays from the firelight. “Turn over.” He dug his strong fingers into the knots in her back and shoulder muscles for several marvelous minutes, then he strayed lower and massaged her buttocks. She gave a little cry in response to the conflicting massage that both relaxed her muscles and stirred her passions. Tense, she waited for him to slid his hand lower and massage between her legs.
Suddenly he turned her to face him. “Better?”
“Oh, God. You’re not stopping.”
“Not exactly.” He stroked her hair and looked down into her eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to her lips.
She parted them, then entwined her arms around his neck and drew him closer, offering what his throbbing erection against her belly proved he wanted as desperately as she did.
When his lips touched hers, they were firm, his mouth open and moist.
In a dance of love, passion, they sought and entwined tongues. Fire flooded her veins. His heat surrounded her until every inch of her flesh was on fire. Yes, yes, make me forget.
The air crackling around them seemed alive, dangerous, but she could only hang onto the passion and ride it to climax.
The next day, Madam Nola, showed up at their door at 2:00 p.m., the time they’d set earlier that morning for the reading. She wore a turquoise jogging suit, running shoes, and a baseball cap. Only wisps of curly platinum hair showed.
Angela glanced at the bowling bag the psychic was carrying. “No crystal ball today?” she said, hoping it was inside, yet shivering at her memory of the last image she’d seen on it.
Madam Nola gestured with the bag. “It’s right here.”
Angela forced a smile and led her into the den where Damon waited with both girls giggling on his lap.
“I’ve never worked in someone’s home before,” Madam Nola said. “Where shall I set up?”
