Bound

by Kirsten Weiss

  Nobody was there.

  Could that blackness be the curse? But that would mean that Darla suffered under a curse too — the source of her bad luck?

  And what about the white cord that had flowed between the two of us? It had felt okay, almost neutral. My gaze lost its focus.

  A dust devil swirled across the park, tossing dried leaves into the air. Wind lifted my hair. And then I was riding the wind, whipping across petal-tossed meadows and icy lakes in stark, granite pools.

  I skimmed bowing tree tops. A murder of crows burst from the branches, cawing.

  I gasped, stepping off the sidewalk.

  The dust devil and the vision were gone.

  A small boy raced up the steps of the gazebo. His father chased after him, laughing.

  Breathing hard, I wavered in place, torn between fear and elation. Either I was crazy, or I was tapping into a deeper magic than I’d imagined.

  These were visions. Real visions, and a sort of sight Ellen hadn’t mentioned. I twisted the straps of my purse. But what did this particular vision mean?

  I relaxed my gaze, imagining those lines of energy.

  They didn’t come.

  On shaky legs, I turned toward my bungalow. I dug my cell phone from my purse, called Nick.

  “Karin.” His voice rumbled through me, and my heart lightened. “I was hoping you’d call.”

  “Why?” I asked, anxious. “Did anything happen?”

  “No. But I wanted to hear your voice. What’s going on?”

  “I bumped into Brayden. He had a box of Alicia’s things from the newspaper office, including two of her files.”

  He growled. “Karin…”

  “And he gave them to me. He thought the police had already looked through them. Maybe. He was kind of vague on that point.”

  “What kind of files?”

  “News stories Alicia was working on. They seem trivial, but I have this feeling there’s more here that I’m not seeing.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On my way home, and then to my aunt’s.”

  “Why don’t I meet you at your place? We can go through the files in private, and then I can take you to your aunt’s house, if you want.”

  “That would be great. I’ll see you there.”

  We hung up.

  I walked more quickly, nearly running. My eagerness was ridiculous, schoolgirlish. I didn’t care.

  I trotted up the steps to my front porch and opened the door as Nick’s SUV crunched up the driveway.

  He came to me and brushed a warm kiss across my cheek. “Hi. You look nice.”

  Heat warmed my skin, and I glanced down at my faded jeans and peasant top. “Thanks. Come on in.”

  “Are those the files?” He nodded to the manila folders sticking out of my purse.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure if they’re important or not.” Kicking off my sandals, I walked into the dining room and laid the files on the oval-shaped, wooden table. Sunlight streamed across the vanilla-pudding colored walls. Through the windows, the drying grasses on the hillside bent in a breeze. “Her last interview before she died was with Sunny Peel about luck. Alicia was also researching vampires.”

  “Vampires?” He sat, opened a folder, read.

  I went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of cold water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, set them on the dining room table.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, turning a page. He finished the vampire file and opened the second, finding the list of names. He turned to me. “Any idea what this is?”

  “Brayden thought it might be a list of people delivered by Dr. Toeller.”

  “Strange.”

  “What’s so strange about it?”

  “I recognize most of these names, and I’m not from Doyle — Darla Ashfield, you and your sisters, Sunny Peel, Steve Woodley. Woodley was on the scene after Alicia’s body was discovered. There are twenty names on this list, and a quarter of them are linked somehow to Alicia’s death.”

  “Then it can’t be a list of deliveries. Councilman Woodley is older than Dr. Toeller.”

  “Then what connects these people?”

  “Good question. Maybe Woodley was a patient?”

  “You’re probably right.” He shook his head. “But I think we can rule out Alicia being killed by a vampire.”

  “Right. Vampirism is one legend that is not associated with Doyle.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. What had compelled me to take the files? “No wonder the police didn’t confiscate the articles.”

  “Mm.”

  “Have you heard about a rose rabbit?”

  “A rose rabbit? Is that in the files?” He flipped through them.

  “No. It’s just something I heard.”

  “Sounds like a pub. You said Alicia was working on an article about luck?”

  I leaned a hip against the table and tapped a file. “This one. She interviewed Darla for the piece, even gave her a good luck charm.”

  “Darla? The manager from Ground? What kind of charm?” he asked sharply.

  “An iron horse shoe. Not a real horse shoe, a tiny one to wear around her neck. Though I don’t think she’s wearing it much.”

  “Why interview Darla?”

  “She’s chronically unlucky, or at least she believes she is. She focuses on the bad things that happen to her, so she doesn’t notice the good stuff.” But then I thought of that dark cord and snapped my mouth shut.

  “There’s a line on the Toeller list connecting Darla and Sunny’s names.”

  I twitched. Cords and lines. I bent to read over his shoulder. “Alicia interviewed them both on luck. Maybe this list got put into the wrong folder.”

  “Hm.” He turned, his face inches from mine. All I had to do was lean in.

  But I didn’t, held in place by an invisible, fiery energy linking us together. “Then you don’t think these files are a waste.”

  “I’m not sure what they are, but if these are people Alicia recently spoke with, for any reason, I want to talk to them. Even if they only talked about vampires.”

  We fell silent.

  His large hand brushed back my hair, shivering the skin on my neck. He kissed me, and my legs trembled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  His kisses began slow, thoughtful, the intensity deepening. The rough pressure of his lips felt right against mine, and I relaxed into the hard planes of his chest. Even while I explored the hard planes of his neck and shoulders, there was a sense of comforting familiarity. Sure, I knew regret would come. Regret always came. But in this moment, being in his arms was enough.

  And then he pulled away, his eyes glittering. His gaze bored intently into mine, and I trembled, knowing I wouldn’t resist whatever came next. He cleared his throat “Karin—”

  My cell phone rang. I couldn’t help glancing at it, lying on the dining room table. Lenore.

  “I should—” I began.

  He shook his head. “Right. Go ahead.”

  I answered the phone. “Lenore?”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Sorry.” Outside the window, a sudden breeze tossed the tree branches. “I got hung up at my house. Is Ellen okay?”

  “She’s fine. Sleeping. I just thought you’d be here sooner.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry. I’ll be right there. Bye.”

  We ended the connection.

  “Trouble?” Nick asked.

  “No. Lenore was wondering where I was.”

  “I’ll drive you to your aunt’s.”

  “Thanks,” I said, glad of the extra time with him.

  He escorted me to his SUV and drove me to my aunt’s house. Nick parked his car in the driveway and stepped out, flooding the cab with afternoon heat.

  I should have felt guilty about kissing Nick. This was no time for romance.

  He walked around the front of the car to open my door, and I smiled for no reason. Nick handed me out of the SUV. We stood close, his warm hand lingering on mine.<
br />
  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m happy. And I shouldn’t be, and it’s a little depressing that me happy looks wrong to you.”

  “It doesn’t.” He glanced toward Ellen’s house of shingle and stone, the swooping gables, the arched windows and their fairy-tale shutters. “I don’t want to push, and—”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” What I wanted was to have my way with him on the hood of his SUV. I stared at my sandaled feet, at the chipped, pink nail polish.

  His laugh was harsh. “Hurt me?” Releasing me, he stepped away and looked again at the house.

  “There’s so much you don’t know about me,” I said, “that we don’t know about each other.” The whole witchcraft thing for starters. I knew from experience that was a deal killer for a lot of men.

  “Part of the fun is learning.”

  Fun. Right. Better I tell him now, end it quickly if that was the way it was to be. “I was raised to be a witch,” I blurted, my heart hammering. “We all were. I’m a witch.”

  He pursed his lips, silent.

  “And I think you’re right,” I said. “I think something is happening in the woods but not a serial killer, magic. And maybe that’s why Alicia was researching luck and vampires. Maybe she thought there was something supernatural happening too.” There. I’d said it. I waited, hoping.

  “Magic,” he said slowly.

  “Is the idea of magic so crazy after everything we’ve experienced?”

  “That’s…” His brow furrowed. “I need to go.” He strode to the driver’s side of the SUV, got in.

  He waited in the car, while I walked up the porch steps.

  Glum, I turned and gave an awkward wave. Better I learn early on if he could accept all of me. And now I knew. I closed the door and laughed mirthlessly. It had been easier to confess I was a witch than tell him about my romance writing pseudo-career.

  Nick’s SUV started up and crunched down the driveway.

  My spine bowed with misery. On the blue rag rug, I toed off my sandals. A spider web dangled from the hanging lamp, and I brushed it away.

  I’d mis-stepped in so many ways. Falling for Nick while my aunt was dying. Dragging poor Dante Cunningham from the woods to die. Flailing about, trying to solve a crime I had no experience nor business trying to solve while my aunt was slipping away. I walked to my aunt’s bedroom.

  Lenore sat in the wing chair by Ellen’s bed. Laying her paperback on the end table, she rose. Her off-white, linen dress cascaded to her knees, and she motioned to me. We met in the hallway.

  “Jayce isn’t here?” I clutched my purse.

  “Not yet.” Lenore glanced over her shoulder, at our aunt. “Ellen’s been asleep most of the day.”

  “Most?”

  “She woke up about an hour ago and drank some water. That was all.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take over.”

  “Sure.” Lenore yawned. “I want to stop in at the bookstore. There’s an author signing tonight.”

  “I thought your boss gave you time off?”

  “He did, but signings are crazy. I’ll come here afterward.”

  We hugged, and Lenore found her purse in the living room and left.

  I walked to the kitchen and brewed tea. Quietly, I padded to Ellen’s room and sat in the wing chair, setting my purse by its side. The unfinished shawl in my bag, a cloaking spell, should I want to go unnoticed, held no interest. When I knit, once the spell on the yarn was cast, my mind wandered. I didn’t want to think. Not about Nick. Not about Ellen. Not about Jayce. I wanted to escape.

  Lenore had left her paperback on the low end table, and I picked it up, a novel about a paranormal museum. Escape enough. I opened the book and read.

  After an hour, I put the book down. It seemed silly to me that most people took the world at face value, believed all that was, was all they could see. But had I been suffering under the same delusion? Limiting myself?

  The front bell rang. I hurried to the foyer and opened the door.

  Dr. Toeller stood on the porch. She tugged on the ends of the stethoscope, looped over her cream-colored, silk shell. “Hello, Karin.”

  “Dr. Toeller. Come in.”

  The doctor stepped inside, her pale, blue slacks rustling. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “I’m glad you’re here. Ellen’s been sleeping, mostly. Lenore said she woke up a couple hours ago and drank some water.”

  “Where is Lenore?”

  “She had to go back to work. There’s a book signing tonight.” I led the doctor down the hall to Ellen’s bedroom. Anxious, I watched from the doorway as the doctor took Ellen’s pulse, bustled about the sickbed.

  The doctor returned to me in the hall.

  “How is she?” I asked, worried.

  “Your aunt’s comfortable. Sleeping is probably best for her.”

  My shoulders slumped. But what had I expected? A miracle recovery?

  “Right now,” the doctor said, “I’m more concerned about you girls. How are you three holding up?”

  “There’s a lot going on,” I admitted.

  “Your sister, Jayce, must be out of her mind. I saw her outside the police station earlier today with that lawyer of hers.”

  “What?” I gave a slight shake of my head, my body heat rising. Nick hadn’t said anything about going to the station with Jayce. I crossed my arms, the cotton of my peasant top soft against my skin.

  A fine line appeared between the doctor’s brows. “You didn’t know?”

  “I’m sure it was nothing.” I smiled tightly.

  “No doubt.” The doctor touched my shoulder. “You look tired. How are you managing?”

  “I keep hoping Ellen will get better, even though I know she won’t.”

  “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

  “At least we’ve had a chance to say goodbye. Not like poor Alicia and Brayden.”

  The doctor sighed. “That was a tragedy.”

  “Was it?” I asked. “A tragedy is more a force of nature, out of man’s hands, unstoppable. Murder is murder.”

  “In my time on this earth, I’ve learned that little is black and white.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that,” I said, my voice dull. “We say that to feel better about the mistakes we make, but…” I lifted my hands and let them fall. “Never mind me. I heard Alicia was writing an article about you.”

  “She interviewed me a few weeks ago for some silly story, but I asked her not to publish. I’m not that interesting, and I’d rather not be puffed up in a newspaper.”

  “Did she seem concerned about anything when you spoke with her?”

  “Concerned?” The doctor studied the ceiling. “No. You think she knew she was in danger?”

  “I’m not sure what to think. This town…” I jammed my hands in my pockets. “You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you?”

  The doctor nodded.

  “Have you noticed anything strange going on?”

  “Strange? The way the world is changing, everything seems strange. Reality TV.” She chuckled. “I don’t understand why anyone would bother when we’ve got reality all around us. But I’m afraid I’m turning into a grumpy old woman who complains everything was better in the past, and kids these days!”

  “Hardly old,” I said. The doctor’s skin barely hinted at lines, her skin glowing, alabaster warmed by a primeval sun.

  “I get the feeling I didn’t answer your question,” the doctor said. “You had something in mind when you said the town was strange.”

  “I was thinking of the hikers. Every seven years somebody disappears and is never found.” Seven was a sort of magical number, but what did it mean? And was it connected to us and our family curse?

  “Hikers get lost all the time. They believe they’re in control and don’t respect the power of nature. Then they learn the hard way we’re all nature’s plaything.”

  “But most hikers are
found. If they’re lucky, they’re found alive. But they’re found. Except every seven years, one vanishes without a trace.”

  “Every seven years? How biblical.” Frowning, the doctor tugged on her ear. “Are you certain?”

  “I checked the newspaper records. The pattern goes back decades.”

  “How odd.”

  “And then there are all the stories, UFOs and such.”

  “And such?”

  I wrapped my arms around my middle. “There’s this crazy story I recently heard, about a family curse.”

  “I’m sorry to say, all the Doyle old-timers have heard and gossiped about your family curse. But it’s a story, a fable. In the past, it was easy for women to die during childbirth, especially if they had a medical condition. But medicine and pre-natal care have improved dramatically over the last fifty years. Your mother…” She touched my arm, and warmth and peace seemed to flow into me. “I still haven’t forgiven myself for losing her. We knew she had high blood pressure — preeclampsia — and were watching for seizures, but then she began to bleed.” She looked out the window. “It happened so fast.”

  “All the women in our family die at the birth of their first child. Doesn’t that seem too much of a coincidence?”

  “Preeclampsia is hereditary. In that sense, I suppose you could think of it as a family curse.”

  It was the explanation I’d assumed for years, but now I resisted. “When you put it that way, it’s all so rational.”

  “Now you understand why I wasn’t thrilled about that newspaper article. I told you, I’m too dull for publication.”

  “Did you know Ely Milbourne?”

  The doctor’s eyes glinted, a flash of real anger. “The teacher?” Her lips flattened. “Not well enough. If I’d known what he was up to with his students… It was an unimaginable betrayal.”

  “Students? There was more than one?”

  “I misspoke,” the doctor said quickly. “As far as I knew, there was only the one. Wasn’t one enough? Why do you ask?”

  “Because Alicia was the student.”

  “And now she’s dead. You suspect it has to do with Ely? That scandal was decades ago.”

  “I saw Ely, or someone who could be his double, in town the other day. The man looked as if he hadn’t aged in twenty years. Did he have any younger brothers or a son?”