Lure (16 page)

Looking over her shoulder more than once on the way to her car, Sam caught her friend watching her.

Shells coughed. "You're freaking me out, dude. Chill."

Sam tried, but her senses were on high alert; all of her training had kicked in, and she knew something was terribly wrong. All the events leading up to this could not be coincidences, could they? Sam once again marveled at the ease of starting her car with the key. Guns and Roses belted out
Welcome to the Jungle
, and Sam cranked the volume, not ready for any of Shells' questions. It worked, and Shells was soon jamming to air guitar, and Sam did her best Axel Rose dance impression from the driver's seat. A man in a passing truck watched her as he drove by, and nearly wrecked his truck in the process. Sam just smiled.

Mixed in with the obviously civilian vehicles were unmarked Crown Victorias with blacked out windows. Why don't they just put up billboards announcing their presence, Sam asked herself. The vehicles lacked the driver side spotlight, but the cars were still easily recognized as standard issue, unmarked cars. Sam kept the music cranked and did her best to look like a vacationer. The two of them in the classic Camaro drew looks, and their head banging left them less than conspicuous, but Sam figured if they were being watched, then they had already been seen. There was only the one main road through this valley and they couldn't exactly hide. Better to make it appear that they were only there to enjoy themselves. Shells wasn't having any trouble pulling this off, and Sam did her best to mirror her friend's enthusiasm for their pseudo-vacation.

Using catcalls that would make a construction worker blush, Shells called out to the girls in bikinis. Some waved and some gave her the finger, but she clearly didn't care. She just liked to make sure the hot ones knew she was watching, even if it did make them uncomfortable, or perhaps that was the reason she did it. As often happened, Shells baffled her. As baffling and embarrassing it was, it also made Sam laugh.

Traffic ahead came to a stop, and a pair of tanned bodies in bikinis trotted across the crosswalk. Sam had to admit that she couldn't really blame men for being pigs, when it took her a minute before she looked at the girls' faces. Shells looked as if she was about to leap from the car, her upper torso sliding out, and then she sat on the top of the door. The girls kept walking and as they passed in front of Shells, she said, using her deepest voice, "Do ow ow . . .
oh yeah
. . . do ow ow . . .
beautiful
. . . do ow ow."

In the meantime, Sam put the car out of gear and slid out to sit on her window. The girls looked back at her, one raised an eyebrow. Sam couldn't help herself, all she could say was "Chick . . . chicka chicka."

"That's right," Shells said. "Home girl is down with the Yello reference."

The girls kept walking, but Sam was certain there was a little extra shake in their asses as they left. "Mmm. Mmm," Shells said. "Like cool, cool water."

Traffic rolled ahead, and Sam caught a man with short hair and mirrored sunglasses watching them and then touching his ear. He did it in a way that made it less obvious, but Sam saw nonetheless, and she watched him in the mirror without turning her head. The hairs on her neck stood, and she knew Shells was oblivious to the threat, but perhaps that was for the best.

Slowly they rolled past vacationers and motorcyclists until they passed the entrance to Chimney Rock Park. It gave Sam the chills driving by, and she looked for a parking spot that would be easy to get out of should they need to move fast. The last thing she wanted to do was get herself boxed in. Always have a route of escape.

"There's a spot," Shells said, but Sam didn't like that spot one bit. It was next to a long SUV that would give her no way to see what was coming when she backed out.

"I'm going to park in that lot up ahead."

"Yeah. I know. Make the fat chick walk," Shells said, almost automatically.

Sam was actually glad for the walk for a number of reasons. Her current vantage gave her a good view of the congested valley. Towering rock and the broad river crowded all the structures onto a narrow strip of land divided by the two-lane blacktop. If she craned her neck she could see the enormous American flag that flew atop Chimney Rock. It felt as if the rock were looking down at her, or at least those who were atop the rock. She could almost feel the eyes upon her as she walked, like the feeling of walking through cobwebs. Shells walked beside her in part walk part dance, her head and neck moving to some unheard beat. Sometimes Sam envied Shells; she seemed to have no real cares in the world. Life to her was just a smorgasbord of girls and the idea of being a vegetarian. Sam had yet to see her pull off the vegetarian thing for anything more than short periods of time. Sam didn't care. Shells was the lighter side of her, and she kept Sam feeling young, and lord knew she was good for a laugh.

"Hau," Shells said to the wooden indian with a bow, and Sam just shook her head. The two of them entered the shop, which felt crowded with just the two of them in there. Most of the space was used for shelving that held an eclectic collection of Indian, mountain, and generally country items. Some of the finest pieces were artworks featuring nature and the animal kingdom.

Immediately upon entry, Sam felt a sort of magic in the air, and she couldn't quite nail down what it was. It had some of the same feeling that she'd felt at the boardwalk at the Jersey shore. Perhaps there was a certain magic in places where people vacationed and enjoyed themselves, since all the positive energy they brought with them would surely leave a mark over time. In addition to that, though, there was something more, and it seemed as if some of the objects in the shop were in and of themselves magical. The shopkeeper was again absent from the store, which Sam felt extremely odd. Surely he knew there were customers in the store. Closing her eyes, Sam let the feeling guide her, and only opening her eyes enough to see the floor in front of her, she moved until the feeling was so strong she no longer feared she would lose it. Opening her eyes, she saw a case filled with crystal formations, some mounted in jewelry, others integrated into works of art, and some clusters were works of art in and of themselves. It was to these that Sam was drawn. She reached and wrapped her hand around the crystal that hung around her neck. Again, it felt as if it were vibrating.

"I'm starting to feel like my Aunt Julie," Sam mumbled, not meaning for anyone else to hear, but Shells' hearing was sharp.

"Oh, man. Now you're starting to scare me. You're not gonna start talking about poo, are you?"

Sam laughed. "No. I promise. You're safe."

Just then Sam saw the mysterious man who ran the shop out of the corner of her vision. He stood behind the counter silently watching them, and Sam couldn't quite figure out how he had gotten there. Her hearing was not bad, and she had been listening for any signs of his return, yet there he stood, his face a mask with no emotion showing. Sam was glad they weren't playing poker, yet she recognized that perhaps in a way they were. He knew something and Sam wanted to know what it was.

"How much is this crystal?" Sam asked, and Shells jumped, obviously not having realized the man had returned, and she jumped again when he moved toward them.

"Geez, dude. Don't sneak up on me like that. I know jujitsu and you might accidentally get caught up in my mortal weapons." Shells spoke while striking poses and moving her hands in a hypnotic fashion. It was almost convincing. The man's face registered no reaction.

"How much is this one?" Sam asked again, pointing as best as she could through the glass. The man said nothing and instead just reached his hand inside the case and grabbed the crystal artwork next to the natural cluster Sam had been pointing to. "Not that one. This one." Again the man's hand moved right past the one that Sam wanted. "Back up." Sam said, and the man looked at her. Slowly his hand moved back to the natural cluster and he pointed to it, while raising his eyebrow in question. "Yes. That one." Sam said.

"Not for sale."

Looking again at the crystal structure, which resembled the bottom jaw of some ages dead monster that had had purple teeth. Sam thought it might be amethyst, but she couldn't be certain. She tried to remember some of the things her Aunt Julie had said about amethyst and other stones, but it was just a big jumble in her head. Perhaps she should have paid more attention and less time thinking of ways to look bored.

"If it's not for sale, why is it in the display case?" Shells asked.

"Good luck," the man said, and Shells snorted. "And magic," the man said, as if driven by anger, Shells' attitude clearly annoying him.

Laughing, Shells slapped her knee, "Magic! That's a good one."

"Shut up, Shells," Sam said, and Shells gave her one of those looks as if she had been completely unaware that she was being annoying. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her jaw shut. Sam knew from experience that she'd be lucky to get another word out of Shells for at least fifteen minutes. It was a good trick, if you knew the buttons to push, and Sam tried not to use it too often, but it did come in handy on occasion. "Why did you want us to leave the first time we came here?" Sam asked before the opportunity was gone.

The man withdrew his hand from the display and started to turn away.

"Wait," Sam said. "Don't go. I just want to understand what is going on around here. You know as well as I do that something is going on. Now what is it?" Putting her hand on her hip, Sam's stance made it clear that she wasn't going to leave without answers. It was a skill she had picked up during her time as a cop. Most men did it naturally, but for Sam it was a learned trait. Still, once perfected, she doubted anyone would guess.

The man kept walking and disappeared through the door leading to the back room.

"I'm tempted to go in there after him," Sam said. "But I'm not a cop any more. I can't get away with stuff like that now."

A moment later, she realized she wouldn't have to. The man returned without saying anything, but Sam could see that he cradled something in his hands. He placed a piece of smooth, colored stone on the glass countertop. It looked like no gemstone Sam could identify, and it lacked the symmetry of crystal, this was more like molten rock, only it was translucent. And instead of being a single color, it looked as if the entire rainbow hid within the folds of clear stone.

"What do you see?" the man asked.

Looking into the stone, Sam could sense that this was no ordinary stone, though she could find no way to put that feeling into words. "I see a clear stone that looks like it has been melted, and I see colors inside of it."

"Yeah. That's what I see, too," Shells said, though she made it clear she was speaking to the man and not to Sam.

The man just looked at them both as if they were not worthy of his time, and after making what Sam thought was a rude noise in his throat, he reached for the stone. Despite her annoyance, Sam's breath caught in her throat. Just as the man's hands closed over the stone, Sam said. "It moved!"

The man stopped dead, as if her words had turned him to stone. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet Sam's.

"There's something in there. Isn't there?"

"It's a soul," the man said, his voice distant and reverent.

"Oh. That's rich," Shells said, and both Sam and the shopkeeper turned their glares on her. "Fine. Fine. It's a soulstone. How very Diablo II."

The man looked confused by Shells' remark, but Sam waved it off. "Why have you shown me this? What does the soul have to do with all of this?"

The man seemed hesitant to answer, but after a moment he said, "It is a warning. This is what happened last time to those who were not lucky enough to get through. There is danger here and you should acknowledge that."

"Last time? What do you mean by 'last time'?"

The man looked as if he would answer, but the then the bells on the entrance door made a tinkling sound. A man with tight-cropped hair and dark glasses entered the shop.

"Not for sale," the man said, and he moved quickly to put the stone back where he had gotten it.

Even Shells picked up on the cold energy the newcomer wore like body armor.

"Geez. Is it cold in here, or is it just me?" Shells asked.

The newcomer pretended to ignore Shells, all the while watching their every move.

"C'mon," Sam said. "Let's go get some food."

Shells followed but cast the man a dirty look before leaving. The man tried to appear interested in a piece of Native American artwork, but Sam knew he was watching them leave.

"You can have it if you'll leave and go back where you came from," she heard the shopkeeper say as the door slid shut behind them.

Chapter 10

"I think I saw a bakery down the street. Let's go see if they've got anything good. I could eat a horse right now, especially if it had icing on it!"

Sam walked alongside Shells scanning the street. Someone was watching her and didn't want her getting information from the locals. It seemed as if Shells had a good point and maybe she was more than a little paranoid. Even after telling herself that a dozen times, the feeling persisted, and Sam chose to remain alert until she could figure out more.