Twelve Shades of Midnight:

by Liliana Hart

  “It was during the sunset—around three a.m.—I got a glimpse of him as he rounded the corner. I didn’t see anything distinguishable, but I’m fairly certain it was a man,” Sienna said.

  “You were awake?”

  Rhys gave a polite cough. “Yes. We were both awake, in the bedroom.”

  Sienna felt her cheeks redden and had to remind herself the officer believed they were a couple. Not that it was any of his business either way.

  The interview was mercifully short, culminating in an examination of the ground outside the window for footprints, finding nothing. Rhys draped an arm around her shoulders as he said good-bye to the officer, and they were alone again. “I’m taking you to breakfast,” he said. “Then we’ll check out the storage facility. We should probably go grocery shopping too. There’s hardly anything here.”

  She grabbed her purse. “If there’s a store that sells clothing, I should grab a few items, if I’m going to be here for a few days.” Would she be here for a few days?

  If it meant finding a way to avoid being arrested? Absolutely.

  Itqaklut’s only diner was busy at ten a.m. on the first day of the Midnight Sun Festival. They were lucky to get a booth. The waitress, a young Iñupiat woman with glossy black hair and lovely, wide brown eyes, looked curiously at Rhys. Sienna felt a rise of possessiveness, the desire to let the woman know he was taken.

  But of course, he wasn’t.

  Even if the dream counted as far as sex was concerned, Sienna had established the rules when she’d declared it consequence free.

  “You’re Chuck’s cousin, right?” the woman asked. Her question set Sienna’s jealousy to rest. She’d stared because she recognized him.

  “Yes,” Rhys answered.

  “How is he?”

  “Better, but still not well. He’s on dialysis.”

  The woman frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I like Chuck. Jana too. It was awful when she died.”

  “I’ll let him know you asked about him.”

  “Please do. Tell him everyone in town is pulling for him.”

  Sienna was touched by the genuine concern in the woman’s tone. In a community the size of Itqaklut—slightly over three thousand, seventy percent of which were tribal members—Chuck was likely related to many of his neighbors. After the waitress left, she leaned over the table, closer to Rhys, and spoke just above a whisper. “It’s strange to think a fellow member of the Itqaklut Corporation—many of whom could be distant cousins—would have poisoned him.”

  He shrugged. “It could be anyone.” He sat across from her in the small booth, and his gaze fixed on her mouth. He smiled and rubbed his thumb over the freckle on her bottom lip. He wasn’t the first man to do that. And given that this was a consequence free… whatever it was… he probably wouldn’t be the last.

  “Have you ever…had something like this happen to you before?” She dropped her voice even lower, whispering now. “Ghosts or… visions?”

  “Never. Chuck talked to me about ancestors and shamans when we were kids. He explained all his beliefs, but I was never really on board with it. You?”

  “None personally, but there was this one time… Years ago, my mom’s friend’s son went missing. He disappeared in woods that people said were haunted. Supposedly there were strange lights, things like that. Some said the woods had taken him. Maybe you heard of it, if you lived in Washington at the time? He lived in a small town near Leavenworth—Jamesville. It happened nine or ten years ago.”

  “Doesn’t sound familiar, but then, I was deployed in Iraq around then.”

  His words were a reminder of how different their backgrounds were, she with her hippy parents and upbringing, while he’d been a soldier. She found it hard to believe he’d be interested in her if it weren’t for the mask. She shrugged off the doubt and continued, “I joined the search party for Jamie—the seven-year-old who’d gone missing—and walked those woods. I’d been dig bumming for a year with my sister and spent a lot of time in various forests around the Pacific Northwest, and I can say with authority, those woods were the same as any other. I figured everyone who said the woods were haunted was nuts. My mom was one of the believers, but you know artist types… Now, after what’s happened with the mask, it seems plausible. Maybe I just didn’t see it, feel it, whatever it was. I figure I need to reconsider my relationship with my mom.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got apologies to make to Chuck too.”

  She smiled. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

  He leaned forward and kissed her, a soft press of warm lips. Casual. Sweet. Intimate. He whispered in her ear, his mouth brushing against the lobe softly, like a lover. “There’s a man sitting at a table behind you. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you from the moment we walked in. I’m going to take his picture. Tell me if you recognize him.”

  She nodded.

  He nipped her neck, and she didn’t have to fake the frisson that passed through her. She liked Rhys. A lot.

  Too bad he was just playing a role right now. What would it be like to have a man like him truly interested in her?

  He leaned back against the booth. His eyes were warm, intent. He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. His eyes shifted from gazing at her face to over her shoulder. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and tapped the touchscreen with his thumb. “We promised your mom we’d send pictures of you in the land of the Midnight Sun,” he said. He held up the smartphone and snapped a picture, then handed her the cell. “You can post it on Facebook.”

  She studied the image. “It’s not really my best side,” she said. The only part of her in the picture was her ear.

  He laughed.

  He’d zoomed in, and the image was sharp and clear. She’d never seen the man before. She shrugged.

  Several minutes later, Rhys leaned forward and said, “He’s gone.”

  After breakfast, they strolled down Itqaklut’s main street, holding hands, trying to look like a carefree couple in town for the festival. The street was three blocks long, with Kotzebue Sound on one side and shops on the other. They were halfway down the block when Rhys pulled her into a doorway alcove and settled his hands on her hips, like a lover who couldn’t wait another minute to kiss her.

  His lips hovered above hers, and her heart began to hammer. In spite of the dream, this would be their true first kiss.

  His blue eyes held heat but something else too, and his lips barely moved as he whispered, “I think we’re being followed. I’m going to kiss you, but you should know it won’t be my best work, since I’ll be watching the street.”

  She felt a slight stab of disappointment that this too wasn’t real, but confidence that came from somewhere unknown gave her the courage to say, “As long as you promise to make up for it later.”

  “Give me the green light when we’re alone, and I’ll happily show you exactly what I can do.”

  The invitation caused a giddy heat to rush straight to her center.

  His mouth touched hers, but, true to his word, he held back from sliding his tongue between her lips as he gazed through slitted eyes out toward the road.

  She figured it was her duty to make the kiss look good and pressed her hips against him as she ran her fingers through his hair. In a way, this was another freebie. It didn’t mean anything.

  She felt his growing erection against her belly, and he let out a soft growl. “Evil woman. You know you’re torturing me, right?”

  “Who, me?” She laughed softly.

  All at once, he pressed her against the building and thrust his tongue in her mouth. Real this time, his kiss was a hot, pleasurable stroke that ignited her already smoldering body. She slid her tongue against his, purring with the pleasure of one need being met, at last. She gripped his shoulders as if she could pull him closer when she was already locked tight in his arms with the hard building at her back.

  He lifted his head and pressed his forehead against hers. “Sorry.” His breath came out in uneven pa
nts. “I didn’t mean to take it that far.”

  She stroked his cheek. “It’s okay. I didn’t either. I guess you didn’t see anyone following us?”

  “No. I saw him. I kissed you as soon as I realized who it was, so he wouldn’t think he’d been spotted.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I recognized him from the dream. The curator. Adam Helvig.”

  Chapter Five

  Rhys didn’t know what to make of the curator’s presence in Itqaklut any more than Sienna did, but the fact that the man had neither reported her theft nor approached her was yet another sign the mask was indeed the one that had been stolen from the Itqaklut tribe.

  Which was good news for Sienna’s business. Sort of.

  Helvig disappeared before Rhys got his raging libido under control, and there was no sign of him when they stepped out of the doorway. They continued strolling hand in hand, but the walk was anything but casual.

  Sienna and the mask had to be related to Chuck’s poisoning. And, crazy as it sounded, he believed the mask had manipulated their meeting so they could compare notes. He wanted to be freaked out and in denial over this. As a kid, he hadn’t even believed in the tooth fairy. He didn’t wish on stars, and he never knocked on wood. He sure as hell hadn’t believed Chuck’s talk of ancestors and spirit guides when they were growing up.

  There was nothing in his past that would make him susceptible to believing something this crazy, yet here he was, accepting the idea a long-dead Iñupiat shaman inhabited an ancient mask and had communicated with him through a dream.

  Because it had happened to him.

  Chuck was going to laugh his ass off when Rhys worked up the nerve to tell him.

  They reached the small grocery store, which was next to the only clothing store in town. “I should grab a change of clothes while you get groceries,” Sienna said.

  “You aren’t leaving my sight. Not while Helvig is skulking around.” He wore his pistol holstered at his back. After the break-in, he no longer doubted Chuck’s insistence that he not only bring the gun but that he carry it locked and loaded.

  She frowned but said, “I suppose you’re right. I’ll be quick, then.” She was true to her word, grabbing the first two tourist T-shirts in her size, a pair of jeans, socks, and underwear. She grimaced at the receipt as they entered the grocery store. “I hope the airline reimburses me for this. I need to watch my budget, since I’m going to lose my business and all.”

  “Given that Helvig followed you here but hasn’t reported the theft, I have a feeling you’ll be fine on the legal front. Although this is based on a hunch and should in no way be construed as legal advice.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I’ve never dated a lawyer.” She flushed and let out an embarrassed cough. “Not that I’m saying I’m dating one now.”

  A rush of possession hit him, the same primal feeling that hit him first in Chuck’s house. “I think you are.”

  Her face lit up. Good Lord, she was pretty—when she frowned, when she bit her lip, when she breathed—but most especially when she smiled. “Okay. In spite of what I said in the dr—before—I’m not a fan of inconsequential.” She grabbed a small basket and headed for the first food aisle.

  He caught her around the waist. “And I’m not interested in inconsequential with you.” He grinned. “I’ve never dated a museologist.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a lot like dating an archaeologist, but with eighty percent less dirt.”

  He laughed and dropped a kiss on her lips. Amazing that she could make him laugh in this crazy situation, but then she made him feel all sorts of things he hadn’t expected when he arrived in Itqaklut to find the person who had tried to murder Chuck.

  They separated to quickly grab staples to carry them through the next day or two, neither of them having a clue as to how long they’d be in town. They stopped at Chuck’s house to unload the groceries before heading to the storage facility, which was up the road from the tribal office building. Rhys had never been to the facility before, but Chuck had described it in detail. The cultural resources branch maintained an archaeology lab and storage facility in a rented building that was part of a small industrial park—or rather, as industrial as things got in Itqaklut. Just up the road from the town’s small power plant, the park was situated on a low rise a few miles above town on a stretch of dry land amidst marshy tundra. The treeless, relatively flat landscape meant Rhys could see the rooftops that marked the eastern edge of Itqaklut. Behind the industrial park, the land rose slowly with green hills that gave way to snow-covered ones in the distance.

  The park consisted of three large buildings. The building closest to the road housed a CrossFit gym and storage-unit rental facility. The middle of the three buildings along the horseshoe-shaped drive housed a fishing-net manufacturing shop and the tribal cultural resources storage. The third building appeared to be vacant.

  Today being a citywide holiday for the Midnight Sun Festival, the parking lot was empty, all businesses closed. “With the gym, there must be drop-in traffic—not just the same cars and coworkers every day. And who knows how often people visit their storage units,” Sienna said.

  “Yeah. But the guys in the net shop might notice if someone other than Chuck showed up at the tribal facility.”

  “Do you plan to question them?” she asked.

  “I do. Chuck said they might be open tomorrow, unless they’re out all night with the street dance and midnight fireworks. Then our best bet will be to catch them on Friday.”

  “Maybe we can find them at the street dance. Do you know their names?”

  “No, Chuck couldn’t remember. They’re relatively new to the area.”

  Sienna climbed out of the SUV and turned her face to the bright midday sun. “Won’t it be nearly this bright tonight for the fireworks display?”

  Rhys circled the front of the vehicle to her side. “Chuck said they’re doing something new this year, a display designed for daylight viewing. The first of its kind was done a year or two ago, I forget where. The ‘fireworks’ are explosives packed with dyes to color the smoke, which will be shot to form different shapes, like rainbows. It’s supposed to look like watercolors in the sky. The explosives go off low to the ground. I’m eager to see it. As an ordnance disposal tech, I’m curious to see the setup.”

  “It sounds amazing. I’m surprised Itqaklut can afford something like that.”

  “They’re trying to build their tourist industry. When I first heard about the display, I’d considered coming up, but my caseload made it impossible.” He frowned. “I’m here now on emergency leave. As it is, I really need to find enough evidence to get the FBI interested in the next few days, or I’m going to have trouble at work. If we can prove your mask was stolen from here, it would solve both our career problems.”

  “Let’s get started, then.” She tilted her head toward the rear of the SUV. “Bring the mask in, or not?”

  They’d agreed it wouldn’t be wise to leave the mask at Chuck’s house after the break-in but hadn’t come to any decisions on what to do with it. Rhys cocked his head. “Is it telling you anything?”

  “Not really. You?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think it communicates with me like it does you. It pulled me into your dream. I doubt it could have entered my dreams without you being part of it. If that makes sense.”

  “Well, it’s had months to get to know my brain, and it’s definitely gotten better at reaching me over time.” She circled to the back of Chuck’s SUV. “Shall we see if it’s heavy or light? Let that be our guide?”

  He followed her and opened the rear door. “Works for me.” He lifted the box, but as it had been when he loaded it in the trunk earlier, it was neither heavy nor light. It was normal.

  The very normalness of it gave him pause. Was he crazy for thinking the mask was some sort of possessed artifact? Maybe last night he’d been jet-lagged and susceptible to suggestion. Maybe the dream had just been a drea
m.

  But Sienna knew his name. She’d learned it in the dream.

  He frowned, thinking back to the flight from Anchorage. All the checked bags had been on a cart for pick-up directly on the tarmac, next to the airplane. His had a large tag, his name in bold letters. It was possible she’d seen the tag, and her subconscious had read it, maybe even seen him grab it from the rack.

  It was possible they’d each had a separate sex dream, triggered by nothing more than proximity and desire.

  He shook his head. “I saw the curator. In the dream,” he muttered. “And I recognized him on the street.”

  Sienna’s eyes widened, and she stepped back. “You’re having doubts, aren’t you?”

  “Did you see my bag at the airport?”

  “I didn’t even see you at the airport.”

  “And isn’t that strange? It was a small flight.”

  “I was a little preoccupied with tanking my career because a damn artifact wouldn’t leave me alone. I wasn’t exactly eager to be visible. What’s going on, Rhys? You were able to accept it an hour ago.” She crossed her arms and stamped a foot in annoyance. “Hell, two minutes ago.”

  “It’s hard to believe, when everything is so… normal. I don’t usually believe the impossible.”

  She rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “I don’t know what normal feels like anymore.” There was hurt in her tone. She’d taken his doubt as rejection.

  But then, maybe it was. “Sienna, this is new for me. Of course I’m going to ask questions. You have to admit, this situation is insane.”

  Her chin tightened, and she turned away, heading toward the front door of the storage facility. She was taking his doubts harder than he would have expected. But then, he didn’t really know her, did he?

  Hell, what if she knew his name not because she’d happened to glance at his name tag on a bag, but because she had an agenda, and it wasn’t to return the mask? She could have checked his wallet and seen his ID while he was sleeping. For all he knew, she’d slipped him a heavy-duty sleeping pill and he’d sleep-sexed. If people could sleep-drive, they could sleep-sex. Hell, sleep sex sounded way more plausible than sleep driving.