Tilly led Rose down the steps to the lower house. Dylan, oddly, stayed up at the main house with Honey. Inside the lower house, there was a small area with a galley kitchen and couch. Rose pulled up short when she saw an open doorway into a bedroom with bed strewn with clothes and belongings.
“Oh,” Tilly said. “That’s Damon’s room.”
She said it offhandedly as if Rose knew who Damon was.
“Your son?”
“Oh no,” Tilly said and laughed, lifting her hand to her mouth self-consciously. “My best friend’s son. She moved to the states, and he grew up there. But he’s had a bit of a rough time, so he’s been staying here for a bit.”
Tilly wouldn’t meet her eyes. She pulled the door closed on the messy room and walked over to a different room, opening the door. This bedroom had a neat twin bed and a stack of books on the nightstand. “This is your room, dear.”
Rose paused.
Tilly could sense her uncertainty and gave a sad smile.
“I’m sorry if that came out wrong. Damon is the best sort of boy. Really. He just has some personal things he’s dealing with.”
Tom was suddenly in the doorway.
“He got his heart broken, and he’s been drinking every waking hour since then,” he said. “That’s how we dumb males deal with our hurt. It’s stupid, I know.”
“Oh,” Rose said. “Well, it happens to the best of us.”
Tilly and Tom laughed.
“He is a perfect gentleman, though,” Tilly said. “If that’s what you’re concerned about. I would never house you in the same quarters otherwise.”
“Does he like dogs?”
“Are you kidding?” Tilly said. “Loves them.”
Tom looped his arm around his wife. “It would actually do him good to have another young person around. We are a pretty boring sort for him. He’s only been here a week, and he’s been surfing nonstop.”
Rose stood up straighter. “He surfs?”
“Constantly,” Tilly said. “He’s been out since before the sun rose. I can watch him from my window. He’s quite good.”
“I think it’s his therapy,” Tom added.
Rose knew exactly what that was like. Surfing had been her therapy.
She smiled.
The boy surfed. He couldn’t be all that bad.
“In that case, I’ll think we’ll get along just fine,” Rose said.
23
Present Day
Australia
Inspector Harris thought it was high time to go talk to Bella Pepin about Samuel Dean Smith’s sleepover.
He knocked on the woman’s door, and she answered with a bright smile.
“Please come in,” she said, wiping her hands off on a towel.
He was disarmed by her openness. It was a little odd.
He followed her into a small front room with a tartan couch and dark furniture. It all seemed cozy and normal except for one thing: there were more than a dozen clocks on the wall. All set to the right time. And there were also two large calendars hung on nails on opposite walls.
“Have a seat. I’ll fetch some tea.”
Before he could refuse, she was gone in the kitchen. Again, his suspicions were raised. He listened to see if perhaps she were making a phone call—calling Smith or something, but all he heard was the clatter of a kettle and silverware and slight humming.
After a few minutes, she was back.
“I’m here to ask about the night that Mr. Smith stayed over.”
The woman blushed. Actually grew red.
“Oh.”
He watched her carefully. She was genuinely surprised by the question.
“I guess I didn’t realize other people knew.”
For some reason, Harris felt guilty, as if he were prying. It was a first in his career as a detective.
“No offense, missus, but didn’t Mr. Smith warn you I might stop by.”
Her eyes grew wide and she nodded. And then it was as if it clicked.
“Yes, yes, he did. You’re right. I just forgot. He just told me to tell the truth.” She looked down. “I’m so sorry, Inspector. It’s just that my mind hasn’t been right since the surgery.”
“Surgery?”
“It was something in my brain. They did it when I was young. Maybe the other day. Or I don’t know was it this morning? I’m so sorry I can’t recall. It messes with time and all that.”
That’s when it clicked. That’s why there were so many clocks and calendars on the wall.
She was mentally disabled.
She wouldn’t be able to tell him whether Smith stayed the night at her house last night or a week ago.
He’d try one last thing. He stood and walked over to one of the calendars.
“Well, it looks like from all these calendars, you’re actually pretty good at telling dates and times.”
She blushed again. “Not really. I just marks the day I have to go to the store to get food. If I don’t then I will think I already did.”
She looked down.
“Well, that makes sense. I think that’s a smart way to do it. I might even try something like that myself,” Harris said, using his kindest, most encouraging voice.
“Really?” Bella said, beaming.
“Yes, really,” he said. He gave the calendars one last glance and made his way to the door. “Thank you so very much.”
She seemed flustered and gestured at the china on the table. “Your tea?”
“Can I come back for tea another time?”
She smiled and nodded.
He let himself out.
It was disappointing. What was even more disappointing—well despicable, actually—was that Smith was using this kind soul for his own good.
24
Rose didn’t meet Damon until the next afternoon.
She was in the main house at the stove heating up some stew Tilly had left for her.
The couple had gone into town to run errands and had left a note for Rose to make herself at home and fix herself the stew for lunch.
Rose had her back turned when she heard a sound behind her.
Without hesitation, she whirled, holding the butcher knife she’d set on the counter in front of her.
The boy standing there didn’t flinch, but his eyes grew wide.
“Hello. You must be Rose.”
Rose closed her eyes for a second. Fuck. She’d forgotten about her housemate in the guest house.
“Sorry.”
She set the knife back down.
He stared at her and she stared back.
He had black hair that fell to his chin and piercing blue eyes. His body was tanned and naked, at least as far as Rose could see. His chest was bare. The kitchen island hid the lower half of him.
He scratched his abdomen and Rose blinked. Was he doing that on purpose?
His hair was wet.
“Have you been out surfing already?”
It was a stupid question. Any real surfer would know that the best waves were early in the morning. It was already nearly noon.
But he didn’t answer rudely; he just gave her a sexy smirk. “It was shit today, honestly. Why I’m back early.”
“Really?” Rose was surprised. “When I looked out earlier, I thought it was just going off!”
“I wish,” he said and then raised an eyebrow. “You surf?”
Rose nodded. “I don’t have my board with me, though. I’m thinking of going into town and renting or buying one.”
“No need. We have some spares here. I’m using one of them. I didn’t bring my own. I’m from the States.”
“I could tell.”
“Your accent is harder to place,” he said.
“Barcelona by way of California and Mexico before that.”
“Aha,” he said and then nodded looking past her. “The stew.”
“Oh shit,” she said. It was boiling over.
After she stirred it and took it off the heat, she noticed he was still standing behi
nd her.
“Want some?”
He sank onto the bar stool at the counter. “God, I thought you’d never ask.”
She smiled but didn’t turn to look at him.
After she ladled out two bowlfuls of the stew. He stood and grabbed a loaf of bread off the counter. She handed him the butcher knife. He smiled.
“If you don’t mind, I like to break it off.”
He washed his hands at the sink and then sat back down, breaking off a hunk of the rustic bread and handing it to her.
For some reason, Rose found this incredibly sexy. Which after a few seconds, she realized was sort of stupid.
What was sexy about breaking off a hunk of bread?
Just then Tilly and Tom came home, speaking excitedly.
“Oh, good, you’ve met,” Tom said, placing woven bags filled with food on the bar counter. Tom set a six pack of beer on the counter and Damon suddenly stood.
Rose noticed his eyes hadn’t left the beer.
“I think I’ll head into town now for my meeting.”
“Oh, right,” Tilly said, “It’s Monday. I almost forgot.”
Then the boy was gone.
Nobody said where Damon was going so Rose didn’t ask.
He was back for dinner later, though, and the four of them sat outside under the stars and ate a paella dish that Rose had cooked.
“Holy crap, this is amazing,” Damon said.
“Don’t be too impressed,” Rose said, lightly taking a sip of the wine Tilly had poured her. “It’s the only thing I’m able to cook. My dad forced me to learn how to make it so I could at least make one meal in a situation like this.”
For once, talking about Nico didn’t make her sad.
Then they heard a sound. A buzzing that was growing closer. Rose jumped up in alarm and raced toward the house. A second later, Tilly joined her.
“Oh my God, they aren’t messing around are they.”
“I’m so sorry, Tilly,” Rose said. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Nonsense. I’ll cause them some trouble if they try to hurt you.”
Rose smiled. This woman was so sweet. She had no idea what she was talking about, though. The Sultan was evil of the darkest sort.
After a while Tom said, “Come on now, you two. It’s long gone.”
“Could it be so high up we can’t hear it?” Tilly asked.
“I suppose so, but it really didn’t stay for long and I saw it head out back to the road. I think it was on a wild goose chase.”
Rose sat back down and the four of them talked for several hours, drinking a few bottles of wine and then eating a lime tart that Tilly had made. It was late by the time they began to clean up.
Meanwhile, Damon hadn’t said a word about Rose dashing into the house when the drone appeared. It made her wonder what Tom and Tilly had told him. But it didn’t matter. Not really.
Rose also noticed that Damon was drinking water. Tom and Tilly hadn’t even offered him a glass of the wine. Now, she understood what the meeting he’d gone to had been about.
After they’d all pitched in to clean up the kitchen, Rose said she was calling it a night.
“Hey,” Damon said right before she walked out. “Want me to wake you? We’ve got those extra boards.”
“You surf?” Tilly said and clapped her hands together.
Rose felt her cheeks redden. She shrugged. “I guess you could call it that.”
“What do you say?” Damon asked.
Rose looked at him and nodded. He grinned.
She turned and left before anything else was said.
25
Present Day
Australia
Rose dreamed she was in the Sultan’s palace again.
She was standing alone in wet clothes in the middle of the main room. Much like in real life when the girls had led her up from the dock in her wet clothing.
The room was lit with red candles—set on every surface and on the wooden floor. The flames flickered wildly from an unseen and unfelt wind. Wax dripped down the sides of the candles and formed small puddles around each. Rose shivered.
There was the murmur of children’s voices chanting. It began to grow louder and seemed closer, but when Rose looked around, the room was still empty.
The chanting became louder still and then suddenly stopped, sending a chill through Rose.
She backed up toward a wall, feeling exposed standing out in the open.
All at once, the wall of French doors facing the ocean violently swung open, and a ferocious wind swept in, blowing out all the candles at once.
Seconds later, Rose smelled something putrid. It was the Sultan. She shrank further into the corner when an icy hand clamped down on her shoulder. Her mouth opened, and a blood-curdling scream emerged.
Then she was being shaken fiercely and heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Rose? Rose? You’re having a bad dream.”
“Timothy?” She tried to say it out loud but couldn’t. She tried to sit up but felt a crushing weight on her chest holding her down. Her mouth moved again. She could hear the voice calling her name over and over, telling her to wake up. But she couldn’t. It felt like she was being pressed down into the bed even harder. At the same time, she felt someone’s hands on her shoulders shaking her and tugging on her. It was as if there was a struggle going on between two different forces—one pressing her down into the bed and trying to draw her back into the darkness of her subconscious while there was another one calling her to wake up.
It seemed impossible to open her eyes, as if they were glued shut.
“Good God!” a voice said, and for some reason those words released her. The weight pressing down on her disappeared, and she sprung to a sitting position. As she blinked to take in her surroundings, she was confused and still in fight mode so she instinctively swung at the person holding onto her. Her fist connected with something solid.
“Fuck!”
It was only then that she realized where she was and who had woken her: she was in the stone guest house and had just clocked Damon in the jaw.
Her eyes focused. Light streamed in the door from the main room, and in that light she could see Damon sitting back on the floor, rubbing his chin.
“Oh my God,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
“I’m so sorry,” Rose said, scrambling out of bed and crouching near him. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” he said. “You have a mean right hook.”
“That was my left hand.”
“I wouldn’t want to see what you could do with your right.”
“I was…” She didn’t know how to explain it. It had been a dream but it felt so real. Had the Sultan come to her in her dream?
“You were having a nightmare.”
“I know. But I could hear you and couldn’t respond.”
“When I touched you, you were icy cold.”
Rose swallowed.
“It felt like someone was holding me down.”
Damon stared at her. “I swear I was trying to lift you up, shake you awake.”
Oh my God. He thought she was accusing him.
“No, no,” she said quickly. “It was strange, like you were fighting against someone else trying to keep me asleep.”
Damon nodded. “I’ve heard of this.”
“You have?”
He frowned.
“What was it?”
He shrugged and looked away. “It’s pretty hokey.”
“Tell me.”
“My buddy had something like that happen when we went to Scotland. He was having a nightmare, and when I went to wake him, he was really cold and told me it was hard to wake up.”
“Really?” Rose said sitting back. “What was the deal?”
“We were staying in a really old inn and, well, the rumor was that it was haunted.”
“Holy fuck.”
Damon burst out laughing. “Yeah.”
“You know what’s weird?” she said. “When you said ‘God,’ it was as if a switch was flicked and the weight on me disappeared.”
“Whoa.”
Rose shivered.
“Are you okay?” Damon asked. He reached for a blanket. “You’re trembling. Maybe we shouldn’t go surfing. It can be cold in the mornings, even with a wetsuit.”
“No,” Rose said. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
Rose fit into Tilly’s wetsuit and picked out a board from the shed.
The waves were perfect, and as they lay on their boards, paddling and waiting for a big wave, the sun rose over the trees to the east and lit up their faces. Damon looked over at her and smiled, and Rose actually felt happy.
26
Present Day
Australia
“We found her,” Smith said.
“He’ll be there tonight to get her.” The little girl’s voice was creepy as fuck. Smith would be glad when his dealings with the Sultan were done.
The visit from the inspector had rattled him.
Smith was going to get to the bottom of how the arm had shown up at the beach.
He’d already brought Scott in for a talking-to. The young man had been in charge of watching the body for the required three days at the quarry.
This had never happened before.
Scott had done something—had a date or fallen asleep or done something suspicious that had allowed an animal, or person, to get to the body. He just couldn’t figure out just what he’d done.
He would deal with Scott later.
Right now, he had to deal with this other nuisance—the Sultan.
The Family had been just fine before the Sultan had reached out the year before, asking him to bring a dark-haired girl between the ages of nine and twelve before the full moon.
At first, Smith had laughed. Who the fuck was this person having a little girl call him on the phone demanding that Smith share his family members? Arrogant.
But then Smith had awoken beside two dead girls in his bed.
They’d bled out next to him, and he’d slept right through it.
After the initial shock and screaming, trying to get away from the bloody bed, and slipping on the floor, he’d come to his senses and reassessed the scene.
Blood & Fire (Vigilante Crime Series Book 2) Page 10
