Serpent Cursed (Lost Souls Series Book 2)

by Bree Moore

  “Thank you.” Tyson reached for a bottle.

  Wendy stared, unblinking, at Harper, who froze mid-bite and glanced at the woman out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, of course. Thank you.” Wendy turned without comment and walked toward the front of the RV, sitting next to Fred. Harper eyed her sandwich again. “Well, that was weird.”

  “Weird for her to insist on manners? First you think body odor is cause for alarm, now this? You’re paranoid.” Tyson managed to untwist the bottle and took a chug of the tepid, sicky sweet drink. It was barely tolerable, but better than choking down a dry peanut butter sandwich.

  “Something isn’t right about her,” Harper whispered loudly. “They’re too dumpy to be vampires, werewolves would be weird, but I guess believable. I don’t believe for a second she’s a witch, there’s nothing to indicate that.”

  “Maybe it’s just her. The man might not be anything peculiar.”

  “Do you enjoy disagreeing with me?” Harper glared at Tyson. “I’m starting to think that’s all our conversations ever are.”

  Tyson took another sip of his drink. “No, I think you jump to conclusions too fast, that you act rashly. Take some time to think about the things we know for sure. Decide whether you will act and how. Slow down, before someone ends up dead.”

  Harper blinked at him.

  “Just a suggestion,” he added lamely.

  Harper placed her hands on the table, palms down. Tyson’s skin prickled at the dead-calm in her eyes. “You’re saying I acted ‘rashly’ when I used the orb?”

  No point hiding it. “Yes. You did. You could have waited an hour. Becca and Quinn would have arrived and taken you from the camp, and you would have been none the wiser.”

  “And I would have left everyone else to continue on as they had. Trapped and brainwashed into believing in your damned system like Fletcher. Look where that got him.” The RV filled with silence. Her voice had escalated at the end, and there was no doubt Wendy and Fred had heard, but to their credit the older couple kept their eyes forward and didn’t say anything.

  Tyson closed his eyes. Fletcher had been his first solo client at Camp Silver Lake. Did Harper think she was the only one grieving his death? He dropped his voice, hoping Harper and her temper would get the hint. “I knew Fletcher for two years. You knew him for a week. Don’t pretend you’re hurting more than I am.”

  Harper’s entire body tensed like a spring ready to release. She took a fierce bite of her sandwich and chewed viciously, folding her arms and staring out the window. She didn’t look back at Tyson, not even a glance. Bite, chew, stare.

  Tyson focused on his own food, but his appetite was gone. He finished, more out of desire to not appear rude to Wendy’s hospitality, and he drank the too-sweet tea. By the time he finished, Harper’s rock hard exterior had mellowed slightly, her shoulders relaxed, her face screwing up with each sip of her tea. He didn’t try to break their silence.

  After a few miles of passing scenery, Harper reached a hand across to him and leaned in. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you,” she said, “but we’re being watched, and we need to look like we’re making up.” She pasted on a smile so endearing Tyson nearly choked. He let her take his hand and she rubbed small circles with her thumb. He leaned in, and Harper kissed him, then sat back on the bench.

  It was just a simple peck on his cheek, but Tyson felt Wendy’s eyes boring into the back of his head. She coughed a little.

  “No need to be awkward around us, dears. We expect to see a bit of kissing. It’s the best way to make up.” Her tone increased in pitch, clearly angling for Tyson to respond somehow. If he was reading her correctly, a peck on the cheek wouldn’t do it.

  Tyson leaned across the table and ran his fingers through Harper’s hair, feeling the new growth like fuzz at the base of her neck. His thumb stroked her cheek. It felt awkward right after an argument, the air still heated between them.

  Harper cocked an eyebrow, either in a warning or confusion, he wasn’t quite sure.

  Tyson swallowed. He leaned all the way across the table, bringing her head toward his, and pressed his lips against hers.

  The soft kiss lingered. Harper’s palm rested on his left cheek, the side facing the window, and she flicked him.

  The sharp sting of her fingernail broke the spell and Tyson sat back down. Harper smiled that fake, sweet smile.

  The reality hit Tyson like a ton of bricks. His cheeks flushed. What had he been thinking? He cleared his throat. Harper gave him a look halfway between murderous and admiring.

  “Didn’t know you had that in you,” she muttered as she picked up her tea and took a swallow. Her fingers tapped on the table, and her head darted from side to side, jittery and nervous.

  “A lot of things about me would surprise you.” Tyson put his hand over her fingers to hide them from the couple at the front. “It wouldn’t do for us to get kicked out now. We need this ride.”

  “Not sure it’s worth the trouble,” Harper said shortly. She pulled her hand from under his and stood, making her way to the front of the moving RV to start a conversation with Wendy, who seemed all-too happy to oblige.

  Maybe it was for the best. He needed a moment to think. Everything was happening too fast for him to make clear decisions. He should never have left Camp Silver Lake. He could have told authorities he wasn’t involved in the deaths of Violet and James. But after Violet attacked him and sold Harper out, could he have stayed even if they had lived? One thing for certain, things would not improve with Lilith in control. That witch had put Harper up to using the orb. She had known it would incapacitate the leaders of the camp, and she had been the one who used magic to bring them down from the window of the lodge. What would Lilith do with the remaining camp residents? Would she give them more freedom, as she had implied to Harper? Or were her plans more nefarious?

  And would Tyson ever return to find out?

  A deep grinding sound interrupted Tyson’s thought process. The RV veered to the shoulder and jerked to a halt. Fred shouted curses as he wrenched at the gear shift, turned off the key, and tried turning the engine back over. It shuddered twice, then died with a depressed hissing sound.

  Fred slapped the wheel. “Come on, you overgrown four wheeler. Not now!”

  Wendy patted his shoulder. “There now, Fred. Bessie isn’t what she used to be. We knew this was coming.” She turned to Harper. “I’m just sorry we’ve gotten you two all mixed up in it.” Her look of sympathy melted into a strange smile. “Luckily, we have more than enough room for you to spend the night. We’re still an hour or so out of town, but we can enjoy supper and games while Fred gives Bessie a look around inside.” Wendy tilted her head at Harper, who gave her a nervous smile.

  Harper jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s still light out. We don’t want to get in your way. I’m sure we can find someone else to take us to town. You’ve been more than kind.”

  Wendy’s smile widened further. She glanced over her shoulder at Tyson. “Your man will agree with me. You were lucky we picked you up and not someone with worse intentions. I insist that you stay and enjoy our hospitality. My mama wouldn’t stand to hear otherwise, and I won’t either.”

  Tyson swallowed. Wendy’s persistence made him uncomfortable, but some women couldn’t seem to help being nosy. Was there such a thing as being too nice? Tyson nodded to Harper, who gave him a wide-eyed, panicked expression, but he just folded his arms and smiled reassuringly. Unless Harper could give him a good reason not to trust the over-endearing Wendy and her husband Fred, it looked like they could be staying the night in Bessie the RV.

  ⇺ ⇻

  Chapter Five

  Harper

  Harper gritted her teeth in a bare resemblance of a smile. Her jaw ached and her shoulders were sore from flying with Tyson that morning.

  Just that morning. It seemed like an eternity had passed since the orb.

  “More jojos, dear?” Wendy held a plate
of wilted, thick potato fries toward her. Harper’s stomach clenched at the thought of forcing down more of the wilted, greasy wedges and shook her head. She dropped the over-cooked fried chicken onto her plate, all of it done in the microwave in the RV because Wendy said she had run out of propane for the tiny oven. A barely-chilled coleslaw sat on the table untouched by Harper, as she worried about food poisoning.

  Tyson had loaded his plate. How could he eat at a time like this? Stranded on the side of the road with these strange people, forced to pretend to be married, of all things. She had herself to blame for that part of their story, but it had been the most plausible and sympathy-inducing scenario she could create on the spot. Maybe Tyson loved jojos. Harper had never liked them. He seemed like a people person, too, more so than Harper, so maybe he truly enjoyed getting to know Wendy and Fred.

  Or maybe Tyson wasn’t haunted with guilt over what happened to Fletcher. Or Violet and James.

  Harper sat back against the vinyl seat and scrubbed at her eyes. Her chest tightened, and her breath shuddered through her body as she fought off the swell of sadness. The anger lingered too, a slight, fading sting now that she had accomplished what she set out to do—remove Violet and James as leaders of the camp. She hadn’t intended for them to be killed, but Lilith had.

  “Tired, dear?” Wendy’s weedling voice broke through Harper’s thoughts.

  The door at the front of the RV opened, and Fred stomped up the steps. Wendy held a plate out to him.

  “We saved you some dinner, Fred. How is Bessie?”

  Fred shook his head, mopping his face with a filthy rag. Wendy squeezed out and offered him her side of the bench at the table and he plopped into the seat, laughing and rubbing his beard.

  “Well, Bessie is in need of a rest, it would seem. Not much more I can do for her except wait and see how she is in the morning and call a mechanic if she doesn’t start.”

  Harper’s heart stopped. They were stuck here overnight. She trained her breathing, keeping it slow and methodical to avoid a reaction. What would an innocent, concerned young woman do? She brought her hand to her chest.

  “Oh my. I’m sorry to hear that,” she said in a slightly breathy voice, hoping she didn’t sound vapid. Tyson gave her the odd look he’d been using ever since she had flagged down the RV. He saw a new side of her, this level of acting and deception—a tool Harper had used to survive since childhood.

  “Oh, Fred. I can’t believe it.” Wendy sighed, then perked up. “On the bright side, we have you dears here to keep us company at least. You know, I think we ought to offer them our bed, Fred. What do you think?”

  The man blinked at her, mouth full of jojos. “Why?” he asked, potato bits falling onto his plate.

  Wendy wrung her hands, looking distressed. “Why, because they’re newlyweds, Fred. And guests. It’s the decent thing to do. We can pitch the tent outside.”

  “No,” Fred said flatly. “It’s going to rain. We can set up the hide-a-bed in here.”

  Wendy chuckled. “Of course we can.” She didn’t look too pleased about it, for some reason.

  Harper supposed the woman wanted to give the newlyweds some privacy, but Harper couldn’t tell her there was no need. Even if she were spending the night in this suffocating RV with her new husband, Harper wouldn’t want to do anything on a stranger's bed.

  “That’s not necessary,” Tyson jumped in, wiping his face with a napkin. Well-mannered even on the run. Tyson didn’t have to pretend as hard as she did to be kind and respectful. “Jessie and I can sleep anywhere, as long as we’re together.” He offered Harper a fake-besotted smile and she returned it with a sarcastic cock of her head.

  Wendy exchanged a knowing look with Fred and sighed dreamily. “You two are the picture of new love. I can’t believe we’re so lucky to pick you up.”

  Harper itched to slap that wide smile off the lady’s face. She didn’t buy the act. There was something fishy about the RV breaking down when it did. Something too convenient in their reactions, their willingness to house strangers for the night.

  Harper couldn’t get rid of the itching in her shoulder blades. Her instinct told her to refuse the offer of a dry place to sleep and run. Could Wendy have heard the news of Harper and Tyson’s escape from Camp Silver Lake and decided to hold them until the Stiffs got here?

  Harper hadn’t heard anything on the radio, and Wendy claimed not to have a cell phone, but that didn’t mean the matronly woman wasn’t more cunning than she looked. Harper would have to keep her senses honed and be ready to get the hell out of there if things turned south.

  “I’ll help clean up dinner,” Harper said, jumping to her feet.

  “Thank you, but I can do it, dear.” Wendy reached across to take Harper’s and Tyson’s plates, and Harper got a full whiff of the woman’s horrid scent. An acidic, bitter death smell that made her eyes water at this proximity.

  She put her fist against her mouth and closed her eyes, praying her stomach held.

  “Fred will get your bed set up,” Wendy said.

  Fred grunted in agreement and shoved the last two potato wedges in his mouth, brushed his hands together and stood.

  Harper and Tyson stood in back near the closet-sized bathroom, watching as the older couple expertly folded back the table, slid the benches sideways, and popped a mattress out of the narrow couch. The sheet on it smelled musty, but thankfully nothing like Wendy. Two pillows were pulled out of a cupboard, and a thin tan blanket and puffy homemade quilt.

  “You sure you wouldn’t like to stay up for games?” Wendy asked hopefully.

  Harper would rather have clawed out her eyeballs than engage with this woman any more. That wide smile, simpering kindness, and the unscratchable itch inside Harper’s shoulder blades made every second miserable. She hoped she was wrong. But if not, might as well get the show started. If Wendy, and possibly Fred, were paranormal beings with ill intentions, they would choose a moment when Harper and Tyson were most vulnerable to make their move.

  “Games sound wonderful,” Tyson said. Harper elbowed his ribs discreetly. Tyson grunted and rubbed his side. “But we’re spent after everything that happened today.” He put his arm around Harper, who allowed it for appearances’ sake. If he tried to kiss her again, though, she would slap him so hard he would lose sense of direction.

  “Feel free to make use of the facilities we have. Push the lever by the base of the toilet with your foot to flush. There are fresh washcloths on the sink if you need a cleaning. Fred and I will go sit outside and enjoy the evening air for a bit.”

  The muggy, damp evening air, with a thunderstorm threatening. Harper’s eyes narrowed at the broad backs of the retreating couple. The RV door slammed shut, and she was alone with Tyson for the first time in hours. Harper released a long breath.

  “I call the bathroom first.”

  Tyson sat on the bed, bouncing and wincing. “Be my guest.”

  Harper took her time freshening up, but kept one ear open for any sounds from outside. The rare car driving by, the wind rushing past the sides of the RV. A quiet roll of thunder in the distance. She turned the water off and set the used washcloth down, then turned the handle of the door. It creaked open.

  “Thank goodness,” Tyson said, standing outside the door.

  “Ah!” Harper yelled. Her heart beat surged in her chest. “Why are you creeping around the bathroom door?”

  “I’m not creeping! I was trying to see Wendy and Fred outside. Did you notice if they took a flashlight or anything with them? It’s dark and lightening started a bit ago.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re worried about them.” Harper squeezed past Tyson’s bulk filling the narrow corridor.

  “They could just be people.”

  Harper scoffed. “I don’t believe that for an instant.”

  “Is it really so hard to believe that truly nice people exist?”

  “Nice people with chunky peanut butter and gag-worth
y body odor who feel comfortable picking up strangers on the side of the road?”

  Tyson’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it. If we wake up in the morning without incident, you can say ‘I told you so.’” Harper left the dim light above the stove on as she walked to the end of the RV where the hide-a-bed was set up. The bathroom door closed behind her.

  She lay on the mattress. Every position she tried emphasized the bones in her body. Shoulders and hips both pressed painfully into the barely-cushioned surface. It tempted Harper Harper to bring out her wings and cushion herself from the miserable excuse for a bed, but she risked getting caught. If Tyson was right, and Wendy and Fred were normal people, coming back into the RV to a raven-woman sleeping in their spare bed might give them heart attacks, or worse, they would dial 6-1-1 and have the Stiffs swarming the area within a few minutes.

  Harper listened to the sound of running water and the rumble of thunder. The RV creaked and rocked as a large semi-truck drove by.

  Voices murmured behind her head.

  Harper sat up and twisted toward the window behind her. She held one of the thin blinds down and peered into the pitch darkness. A ghostly wisp of green flashed across her view and disappeared. Harper scooted closer to the window, but she didn’t see the green wisp again.

  The bathroom door opened, and Tyson stepped out, a shadowy, but familiar figure as he approached the bed. Harper’s heart rate increased again, and she frowned. This was Tyson, not some ghoul in the night. He hadn’t scared her this time. Then why did her breath shorten when she looked at him, hair tousled and standing on end from where he had run wet fingers through it?

  Tyson eyed her but didn’t say anything as he removed his shoes, then climbed over to the other side of the bed and lay on top of the covers. He stared at the ceiling.

  He cleared his throat. “I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

  “There isn’t room. Besides, Wendy will think we’re still fighting.”