Revelations: The Black Chalice (Revelations Series Book 1)

by Lauretta Hignett

  Something pulled his attention away from me, and he glanced toward the bar. “Your friends are here,” he said softly. “Look, there’s one more thing I want to ask you before you go.”

  “Whassat?” I mumbled, then swallowed, trying to straighten up a bit. I was sure I was going to feel burning shame tomorrow, pouring my heart out in front of this gorgeous stranger. But right now I couldn’t care less.

  His piercing, icy-blue gaze held me tightly for a second, squeezing me and holding me in place. “When I first walked in to Revelations, you called me an angel. Why did you do that?”

  “The stupid dream.” My eyes crossed again, and I uncrossed them with difficulty. I swallowed, so I wouldn’t slur my words again. “I had a stupid dream of two hot guys having dinner, and one was an angel and one was a demon. I guess you looked a bit like the angel one.” I straightened up and tried to jab two fingers in his direction. “Don’t get a big head.”

  I thought he would laugh, or scowl. But he leaned closer, a light of urgency in his eye. Or it might have been a reflection from the twinkling fairy lights strung up over the pool. I blinked, trying to make my vision clear, but it was only getting worse.

  “Eve!” I heard Dale call out from the other side of the pool. “There you are!”

  “No,” Clover’s voice hissed. “She’s talking to the hot Viking. Let’s leave her.”

  “She won’t want to, you know that. She’ll be scared.”

  “She looks comfortable to me.”

  “You guys.” I barely had to shout. “We can both hear you pretty clearly, you know.” I waved my hand at them, accidently knocking my drink. “Ohhh dammmnnnn.”

  “Okay, we’re coming,” Dale called over. “We’ll bring another one.”

  “Eve.” Alex’s voice was low and urgent; it cut through my hazy thoughts of mopping up the spilled margarita with my tongue. I swung back to face him. “What did the other one look like? The guy in your dream. The…” he frowned. “The demon?”

  “I dunno,” I shrugged carelessly, my bones feeling wobbly. “Does it matter? He wasn’t real. Dark hair, clean-cut, full lips, lovely soft, dark skin…” I trailed off. “See what I mean? I like men. I don’t know why they hate me.”

  “Yes,” Alex said softly. “I don’t know why either.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dale and Clover kept me company until the courtesy bus came, diligently filling up my glass as soon as it emptied. Alex melted away into the thick jungle before they’d even made their way over to me with the margarita jug.

  “The jug was a great idea,” I slurred happily. “I was getting sick of having to get up.”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling okay, Eve.” Dale rubbed my arm.

  Clover, sitting on my other side, squeezed my free hand. “Me too!” she wailed. “I can’t believe some random guy attacked you.” She frowned into her glass. “And I can’t believe that Alex Sorensen rescued you. And even worse, I can’t believe I missed it!”

  I nudged her, falling into her as I did so. “You’re just jealush.”

  Clover raised her eyes to the sky. “Of course I’m jealous! He would have to be the most gorgeous man that’s ever walked into this hotel. Easily.”

  “Jealush of my crazy magnet,” I murmured again, and I looked at the margarita glass. “I think I need to stop drinking.”

  “Probably a good idea.” Dale got to his feet. “You might puke on the bus. I’ll get you some water.”

  Clover squeezed my shoulders affectionately. “You poor thing. I can’t believe this stuff keeps happening to you.”

  “M’crazy magnet.”

  “Yeah. I’m so glad someone was there to rescue you. Other than Dale, I mean. He’s lovely, but we both know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if it was decapitating him.”

  I nodded vigorously. “Lucky. I got the best rescuer,” I managed. “Like the hulk.”

  Clover tilted her head to the side. “Yes, he scares the pants off me. Or rather, I wish he would scare the pants off me.” She gave a shiver. “I heard he crushed all the bones in that crazy guy’s hand. He must have to work out pretty hard, in his line of work. If he gets attacked.”

  “Yep, I guess so.” I didn’t want to think about Alex. It was sobering me up.

  “And it’s weird how young he is for a powerful arms dealer. I suppose he inherited the business from his dad. What do you reckon he is, twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-six,” I replied flatly, watching a group of night maids in the pool. Bikini tops were coming off. “I checked.”

  “Of course you did.” Clover gave me big eyes. “So… so…”

  I wrenched my head around to stare at her with difficulty. “What?”

  “Do you think this guy…?”

  “What, Clover?”

  “Do you like him? Like, like?”

  “Clo, no. You know I don’t roll that way.”

  “I guess I roll that way enough for all of us.” Clover shrugged. “I was just hoping you might let yourself like someone. It’s nice, you know.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” I frowned. “And if it did, a mysterious, rich, handsome, bone-crushing stranger is the last person I would think of to let myself lust over. You know that.”

  Dale scooted around the palm that we were slouched under and handed me a big glass of water. “Ooooh, I couldn’t even let myself lust over that man,” he said in a hushed tone. “He scares me senseless.”

  “Me too,” Clover said. “Although I’d give it a red-hot go.”

  I smiled at my friends and took a big gulp of my water. “I’m lucky to have you two.”

  “I wish we were going on the bus with you.”

  “Someone is going to have to hold the front desk,” I mumbled, feeling the tequila’s effects ease off a little.

  There was a toot from around the back of the staff quarters; the courtesy bus had arrived. I let Dale help me to my feet, while Clover picked up my overnight bag and slung it over her shoulder. They walked me to the bus, along with a dozen or so night porters and maids in various states of drunkenness and levels of nudity. Clover gave me a big hug.

  “See you in a couple of days. Stay safe!”

  “I always try!” I yelled back sarcastically.

  I settled back in my seat and put in my earbuds to drown out the singing around me. Luckily, I was the first stop, so I’d only have to put up with this for an hour.

  Margot’s house was on the very outskirts of Cairns, probably about half an hour’s drive from the city center, in a tiny village called Jagera. It was in the closest village to Revelations, which meant I probably lived nearest work than anyone else. Jagera was a beautiful place, just a blip on the map. Only twenty or so houses, all hidden down long, windy driveways, built on stilts in the sundowner style, nestled right up to the thick jungle. There was one small milk bar set on the main road, which stocked everything from tampons to tea, and charged astronomical prices for everything.

  The residents of Jagera all kept to themselves; there was usually a reason that someone chose to live in isolation like this. Most of the houses were occupied by single people, recluses, crazy artist types.

  Margot loved the solitude. After the hectic tension of the ER, coming back to Jagera must be like a soothing balm on her nerves. She’d lived out here since she started at Cairns Base hospital.

  And I’d lived here ever since she brought me back here, just a few days shy of my fourteenth birthday. Five of the happiest years I’ve ever known. Despite the odd blip here and there.

  I rubbed my neck, soothing out a couple of aches that had seeped in on the journey here. The rest of the staff had quietened down as they let the reality of the world outside Revelations seep back into them a little bit. We were always a little like cave-dwellers coming out into the open when we came back home. The world was a little too bright; the people a little too weird outside of our little bubble. It was a madness of sorts. I now lived my life in a series of bubbles, and I
liked it that way.

  The bus stopped for me at the base of Margot’s drive, and I grabbed my bag and hopped down, waving at the chorus of well-wishers that hollered to me from the bus. You’d think we wouldn’t see each other for months, not just the weekend. The bus slowly pulled back from the curb and disappeared down the road.

  The clouds had gathered above me; it looked like the forecasted storm would be coming. That was fine with me. I had to sleep anyway. Slowly, with my bag getting heavier and heavier, I stumbled down the driveway.

  My heart eased when my home came into view. Built over the garage, with a huge deck on the second floor extending out into the thick rainforest, the house was like part of the jungle itself. The heavy leaves and tangled vines brushed the railings but didn’t come any closer. It was secluded, vibrant, and gorgeous.

  I walked up the outside stairs and up onto the deck. A couple of brightly-colored parakeets sat on the railing, nibbling at the sunflower kernels we kept in the feeder. They were gorgeous birds. It was the only company we needed out here.

  I entered the house through the glass doors and took off toward my room just as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. I dumped my bag and shed my clothes, suddenly desperate to wash off the effects of the night.

  Margot wasn’t home; I hadn’t expected her. She was on duty and might show up this evening at some point. I didn’t need her here, but she was only a phone call away if I did.

  I slumped under the blessedly warm water of the shower, letting it sluice off me in rivulets without making any effort at all. It felt good—cleansing, like peeling off a layer of dead skin. It always felt good to come back here. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes, feeling the water run over my scalp, blessing me. I could stay here forever, but I was so tired. I shut off the faucet and dried myself with a big, fluffy white towel, wrapped myself up, and padded to my bedroom.

  I didn’t bother with pajamas; it was too hot, and I was alone. Another growl of thunder rumbled in the distance. It was getting closer, and the sky was getting darker.

  I burrowed underneath my duvet, put a pillow over my head, and tried not to let myself focus on any of my swirling thoughts.

  I breathed in, counting to three, and breathed out, counting to three, over and over, until I soon sank deep into my slumber.

  Chapter Eleven

  I knew I was dreaming. But I didn’t know how to stop what was happening to me.

  There was a killer here in my dream, and he was coming for me. It was a different man. He looked nothing like the dark, heavy-browed assassin who had tried to slit my throat on the reception desk. He looked like no one I’d ever seen before.

  This killer in my dreams was pale and ruddy-cheeked, with long arms, sinewy with muscle. There was a dagger in his hand. He was reaching for me, reaching for my center, ready to stab right through me. He was going to stab me right in the gut.

  It wasn’t his hands that scared me so much. It wasn’t the dagger in his grip, his muscles poised to drive it right through me.

  It was the terrifying light of determination in his eyes.

  I knew that he wouldn't stop coming, not ever. Not even if I cut off all his limbs. This was his life; this was his purpose.

  I was his purpose.

  I felt the blaze of his conviction; I felt the force of the innate beliefs within him that drove every motion in his body.

  That I must die.

  I must die, or we all would.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Margot sat at the end of the kitchen table and eyed me with her doctor’s stare. It was not just empathetic; it was also assessing and compelling. She looked a little like a hawk, with her bushy brows over an intense stare, her short light-brown hair stuck up in spikes, still wet from her shower.

  “I’m fine,” I answered. “Of course I’m going to have a nightmare after what happened last night. It was inevitable.”

  Margot had come home when I was in the throes of my nightmare. Apparently she’d heard me screaming from down the driveway. She dashed inside and found me tangled in sheets, soaked in sweat.

  She was used to me having nightmares, though, so she’d just gotten me up, made coffee, then fixed herself dinner and me breakfast. This time she’d done it in silence, rather than interrogate me about what happened at Revelations.

  Of course, she knew. Clover had texted her to keep an eye on me. She didn’t say anything, but I felt the weight of her frustration that this kept happening to me. No matter what she did, she couldn’t keep me safe.

  After scrambled eggs for me, and roast veggies for her, we’d taken our herbal tea out to the deck. The thunderstorm had eased off into big fat drops of rain. They made a satisfying thwak sound when they hit the tree canopy. We stayed under cover of the awning, settled into our lazy chairs. The darkness had almost set in; there was still only a slight orange tint to the sky in the west.

  There were thick trees on three sides of us. I felt like the long branches and thick leaves were like the hands of our ancestors, hugging us tight.

  I looked sideways at Margot, only to find that she was looking at me intently. She took a big breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed before she could talk. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

  “Ahhhh!” she gasped, and waved her hands. “Don’t! Oh, Eve, why does this keep happening to you? What saggy-titted bitch of a Fate decided that you would attract all these nasty bastards?”

  I smiled in spite of myself. Margot had a way with words. “So, you see the pattern too, huh?”

  “Oh, honey. I know what all the shrinks say; you’re often attracted to people who demonstrate the same qualities as those you’ve grown up with. But I know that I broke the mold. And it’s not like you’re getting into relationships with these psycho men. They’re random attacks.” She shook her head sadly.

  I shrugged, trying to put her at ease. “Who knows? Maybe there’s just something about me that triggers the weirdos. My energy, or something.”

  She narrowed her eyes. For Margot, there was always a scientific explanation for everything. “Your physiology might; there’s evidence to suggest that attackers target people that adopt certain postures. If someone is hunched over and radiating vulnerability, then they’re far more likely to get attacked than someone who looks like they’d make trouble.” She shook her head. “But that’s not you. You’ve got great posture for a child from an abusive home.”

  “All that ballet paid off, I guess.” My dad had always insisted that I take ballet. Part of him trying to make me into a little princess. I would have rather done martial arts. That would have been far more helpful.

  “Martin says I look innocent.”

  “You do,” she conceded. “But I don’t think that’s enough to make you this much of a target.” She sighed. “Eve, I’m just so sorry. This life has dealt you a bum hand.”

  “It’s not exactly given you a free ride.”

  “No. Life doesn’t give anyone a free ride. And we’ve had it worse than most, sure. But I was lucky.”

  I snorted, thinking of some of the spoiled brats coming through Revelations. “Lucky?”

  “You know what I mean. I was born with an innate knowledge that the abuse we got at home just wasn’t right. But your mother never had that.”

  “Is that all it was? A feeling?”

  Margot nodded. “I was always defiant. Even from birth. I copped it worse than the others for it; Dad thought he could beat it out of me. I escaped instead.”

  My lip trembled. My father’s abuse was mostly directed at my mother. I got hit very rarely, only if she wasn’t around to take the full brunt of his anger. But she was always there. It was the only thing I could ever thank her for. She hated me for it, though. “I don’t know how you managed it,” I whispered. “I would never have had the guts to do what you did.”

  “You would have; you’re a fighter like me. You were only thirteen when your
dad finally snapped. I was fourteen when I left home.”

  She gave me so much credit. I had no idea if I would have had the guts to walk out of my own home, even if the abuse escalated. “You don’t know. I might have gone the same way as my mother.”

  “No.” She shook her head vigorously, her jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t have. You would have escaped, even without my help. You’re like me.”

  It was true, I did have a strange sense of justice. A strong moral compass. It was what powered my annoying politeness default.

  And I knew my whole life that my Dad’s behavior was wrong. I can’t remember if I’d ever made any plans to escape; I just knew that I would eventually. And even then, I never knew how bad it really was, I could only guess. My dad kept his worst abuses behind his bedroom door, where I couldn’t see. My mum always lied to me too. She just said she was clumsy.

  It only got bad toward the end. The night my father murdered my mother, when I ran to the neighbor’s, I had no intention of ever going home.

  But I couldn’t say what would have happened to me if Margot hadn’t saved me. If I had known about her sooner, I would’ve run straight for her and not looked back. Margot was all about saving people; it was why she was an ER doctor. She swooped in and picked me up the second she heard about me.

  And it went further than that, too. She wanted to protect my mind as well as my body. She was a vocal advocate for therapy. When I was released into her custody, she made sure I went every day. We had group sessions once a week with her, so we could find out where we stood with each other.

  It made the transition so much easier. I had walked out of an old life and straight into a new one.

  And that was why Margot was upset—she thought she could save me. She desperately wanted me to be safe and have a happy life. But, for the third time since she took me in, I’d demonstrated that there really was no keeping me safe.

  I gave her a soft smile. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I just might be cursed.”