Of A Darker Nature (5 page)

“Well yes, there's not going to be a funeral.” Cold deliberation crossed Starr's face. “Have you ever done an exhumed body?”

“No.” Emily held up a hand to deflect Starr's rebuttal. “And I won't.”

Starr leaned forward, a determined expression on her broad face. “But technically you could, right? I've taken care of everything. All I need is you.”

“I don't think so, Ms. Carter. I don't feel comfortable with this. Besides, once someone has been deceased for a while, their memories just sort of fade away. I wouldn’t be able to read them.”

Starr's left eye developed a tic. She seemed to struggle to find a smile this time. “We could do it tomorrow night.”

Emily and Brenda already had plans for tomorrow night. They were going to have a girl's night in and watch movies. “Sorry, no.”

Starr's eerie smile returned. “Do you know where Memory Gardens is?”

Of course, Emily was familiar with the cemetery. Her parents were resting there. “How exactly did you get the okay to have someone exhumed?”

Starr laid a small stack of bills on the desk between them. She nudged it forward with a blunt fingertip. “I figured I’d have to convince you. Just meet me at the cemetery. As I said, it all will be arranged.”

That uneasy feeling just wouldn't go away. “I can't take your money.”

Starr ignored Emily’s refusal and plowed on. “I understand you live on a sizable plot of land in Witcher Springs? My coven would like to worship on your land. You could join us if you'd like.”

“Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not able to help you.” And who said she wanted to join a witch's coven? She didn't know the first thing about their rituals or beliefs. 

“I'd advise you to reconsider.”

Scott entered the room and slipped a protective arm around Emily's shoulders. “Everything okay?”

Starr glared at him. “This is a private matter.”

Emily had enough. “I already gave you my answer. I'm not interested.”

“I have big plans for my coven.” Starr leaned across the desk. Her chest, the size of two overstuffed sandbags, rested against the smooth wooden top. “I’d like your help with this. At least give me permission to use your land for worship. I'd be happy to pay you. I can get more cash if that’s the problem.”

The fine hairs on Emily's arms rose in apprehension. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m sorry, Ms. Carter. I've made up my mind. I'm not interested in your coven or allowing the use of my property either.”

“What about the reading tomorrow night? I'll double the money. It's imperative that it gets done.” She narrowed her eyes. 

“I have better things to do than cavort through graveyards at all hours of the night.” A little voice at the back of Emily's mind reminded that she hadn't had anything better to do in quite a while.

“I don't like being told no.”

“You’d better get used to it.”

A wild expression flitted across Starr's face. “Please, Miss Cross. This friend of mine is very shy. We’re searching for an old friend and the man in the graveyard can help.”

Scott interrupted her. “I'm not going to allow Emily to get in trouble if you and your friend dig someone up. Have you even filed the proper paperwork?”

Not just anyone could have a body unearthed. What would Starr tell the authorities? A local crazy was going to do a laying of hands on it and discover whatever mysteries it held?

“Please, won’t you reconsider? We need your help.”

Emily opened her mouth, ready to reject the creepy woman again.

Starr grasped her right hand. Her thumb pressed against the base of Emily's wrist and a sensation much like twisting worms crept up her arm.

“What are you doing?” Emily attempted to jerk her arm away, but Starr held fast.

“I'm sure we'll do business some other time then.”

“Let go of me.”

Starr leaned closer to Emily. “You ought to reconsider your stand on this. You don't want to be on the wrong side.”

Emily tried to jerk free. She even used her legs to push away from the desk. Nothing helped.

Starr grinned, her big teeth unnaturally white. Starr whispered,
“Subsisto.”

The witch jerked Emily forward again. This time the chair rolled out from beneath her, and she was forced to bend over the desk. She tried to twist out of the woman's iron grip, but found herself powerless. 

Scott grabbed hold of Starr’s arm and tried to force her away. She didn’t budge. With her free hand, she made a gesture and said a quiet string of words. Scott was pulled backward against the wall by an invisible hand. He tried to move forward, but was unable.

At some point, Wren must have entered the office because she was now at Starr's back. She looked frightened or possibly ill.

Starr's voice was low and malicious. “I'm not going to let some redheaded bitch stand in my way. Do you understand me?”

Emily felt paralyzed. She couldn't speak nor could she extract her hand from the woman's grip.

The fingers of Emily's free hand closed around an earthenware vase. She doused Starr with crisp daisies and yellowed water. It did nothing to deter her. Her grip tightened, making the bones of Emily's hand crack and pop. She muttered words that sounded like nonsense through gritted teeth. Memories from a year ago, the very ones Emily struggled to forget, flooded through her mind.

Flashes of neon in the darkness and Liz’s face filled her mind. Emily tried to grasp her sister's hand, but the older girl frowned and cringed away.

Emily rested against the seat. The red-eye flight from Tucson to Oklahoma City had exhausted her. After a tearful plea, her father agreed to pick her up at the airport. The rest of the family had insisted on accompanying him.

The soft glow of the instrument panel lit her mother’s soft features. “I'm so glad you've come home. I've missed you so much.”

The images in Emily's mind flashed like a strobe light. The picture was somewhat fuzzy as if she had trouble recalling the finer details. Her family's voices drifted in and out like someone turned the volume knob on a radio up and down.

Emily's father turned stern eyes up to the rearview mirror. Disapproval turned his mouth down.

Emily clutched at the purse in her lap and bit her bottom lip. Things would never be the same as before, but now that she was home she'd be safe and surrounded by loved ones. Maybe one day they'd find it in their hearts to forgive her.

“I'm very disappointed in you, Emilia Ann,” her father reprimanded her. “What in God's name possessed you to run off with that boy? I told you he was bad news from the start. You're just lucky you didn't end up pregnant too.”

Her mother cut him off. “All that matters is she's safe and we have her back.” To Emily, she said, “I didn't change a thing in your room. I knew you'd come home.”

Headlights lit the interior of the car. Liz screamed, “Dad, watch out!”

The screech of metal and squealing tires filled the night. Screams and shattered glass exploded within the car. The car tumbled from the bridge and plummeted as if tossed by a child's careless hand.

They fell sideways into dense trees that stopped their descent.

Beneath the wreckage, the river sang a deadly lullaby.

Emily regained consciousness some time later. She lay against the door – broken glass, branches and leaves all around her head. Liz lay against her, both of her legs mangled in the twisted treetops that had torn away the door on her side.  

She could hear the frightened voices of those who had stopped to help somewhere above them. The wail of sirens drew near.

“Mom? Dad?”

She received no answer.

She looked to her mother first. Her body hung limp and lifeless, suspended by the safety belt. Blood ran from a head wound. Limbs pierced her body. Her father was still alive, but just barely. The crumpled front of the car had shoved the steering wheel into his chest. His crushed sternum and collapsed lungs wouldn't afford him much time. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a bubble of blood and a hiss of air. His eyes grew glassy.

The car shuddered and groaned as the limbs relinquished their grip. The family and their car fell into the dark river below. 

Finally, Emily managed to surface from the painful memories. “Get out of my head!”

Her fingernails gouged at Starr’s cheeks and eyes. The hateful woman growled a curse and thrust her backward. Emily lost her balance, stumbled and banged against a shelf. Several books and framed pictures of Scott's family and friends tumbled down.

“That's just a taste of what I can do.” The witch moved toward the door and tossed a wicked look over her shoulder. “You picked the wrong side, Ms. Cross.”

Then she stabbed a finger at Wren. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the gathering. Don’t be late.”

After Starr had vacated the office, the air returned to the small space and Scott was able to move again.

Emily's right hand had a warm, oily sensation where Starr had gripped it. The bones tingled with the memory of being compressed. Shaken, she could barely form the words that tumbled from her mouth. “How the hell did she do that?”

Scott darted into the hallway after the witch.

Emily's stomach lurched. She lost her dinner behind the desk.

Wren helped her stand and walk to the bathroom down the hall. “May Goddess help you, Emily. You're going to need it.”

Marcus parked near the curb and climbed out of the low-slung sedan. Darla crawled out of the passenger side and slammed the door. One wrong move and her ample chest would spill out of the shiny latex top she’d squeezed into. She must have noticed Marcus looking because she pressed her breasts against his arm and attempted a smile. He knew she was scared, but did nothing to put her at ease. 

“Are you sure Starr stays here?”

She exhaled pot-laced breath and laid her head against his shoulder. Her stiff, orange hair crunched against his shirt. The golden hue looked stark against her wan skin. “At least, some of her people do.”

He draped an arm around the pathetic creature and practiced more patience than he felt. His backup, Jai Li, and Corey, had split up to scout the area. He’d given them the task of making sure the witch and her lackeys didn’t show up unannounced.

Marcus and Darla moved across the concrete terrace. He guided her toward the row of run-down apartments. They strolled past discarded beer cans and whiskey bottles in the breezeway.

He tightened his arm around her narrow shoulders. “There aren’t any surprises, are there?”

Darla cast a worried glance at him. “I’m scared. Let’s go somewhere else.” Her voice was a shrill whine. She ran bony fingers down his arm and cast a pleading glance at him.

“You and I have a little business to take care of before your friends come back.” He shoved her toward the stairs that led to the apartment in question. All pretense of friendliness was a thing of the past.

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.” Darla licked her lips and dropped her watery gaze. She shrank back against the dirty brick wall. “Is this about the fire? I didn’t know they were going to set the mansion on fire. I was supposed to spy on you guys and tell them where you were hiding Isabella. I never meant for any of you to get hurt.”

He gripped a handful of Darla’s crunchy hair. He pulled her head back to expose a scarred throat. Though she whimpered, her eyes radiated acceptance. She was a blood doll, a play toy for any vamp. Her wretched life would never amount to anything more.

Once they were upstairs, Darla searched her cleavage for the key. It took two attempts to slide it into the lock.

The apartment she shared with the others smelled of dirty socks, stale cigarettes, and sweat. Dirty clothes and take-out boxes littered the floor. Half eaten containers of food sat on the counters, and a moldy plate lay in the sink.

“I guess the cleaning lady hasn’t been by?” 

“You’ve made a big mistake.” She wrapped her hands around her elbows and stared at him. “Ted and Ace will be back any minute and they’ll have friends with them.” 

Marcus smiled. “We’ve got a few minutes.”

Darla swallowed audibly and stiffened beneath his touch. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“It depends on how helpful you are.” He shoved her onto the couch. “Don't move.”

A receipt for ten thousand dollars was amongst the papers on the coffee table. The memo line read: “Disposal.” He dropped it into her lap. “Who was this paid to?”

She looked up at him with watery eyes. Clear snot ran from her nose. “I don't know.”

“How often do they pay for disposal?”

“I don't know.”

He grasped her scrawny arm and dragged her through the other rooms.

Trent and Pete hadn’t been here in a while. Their scent had faded, just a memory now. But the others, the ones who helped with the fire, were still here. As far as he could tell, two of those people had stomped his brain into mush a few nights ago. Starr might not stay here, but she visited those who did. Her woodsy perfume lingered ever so faintly.

Marcus pilfered through the paperwork on tables, in drawers, and under the sofa. He even looked over their caller ID. “Other than Ted and Ace, who else lives here?”

Darla moistened her cracked lips with a flick of her tongue.

“There’s a new guy and a girl. I don’t know their names.”

“Does she have red hair?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Her brow creased. “Wait. Ted mentioned a redhead the other day.”

“Think real hard. What did he say?” He pulled her along with him toward the last bedroom. She fell onto the bed and watched him move around the small space. 

He turned to rummage the dresser, nightstand, and closet. A box filled with various silver items sat at the bottom. A retractable baton encrusted with what appeared to be dried blood and hair lay among them. The box also contained baggies of herbs and junk he didn’t recognize.

“That’s for their spells.” Darla sat on the edge of the bed and watched him paw through the box. 

He ground the smelly herbs into the carpet with his heel. “Focus. What did he say about the redhead?”

“Only that Starr had found her. She works at a funeral home here in the city.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think that’s who they paid to do the disposal?”

“Could be.” He spied a yellow post-it note on the bedside table. Someone had scribbled an address in Witcher Springs across it. He pocketed it then moved toward the living room again. Darla followed without being manhandled.

“She can supposedly read the dead. Starr wants her to help.”

“Read the dead?”

“Yeah, she touches whatever's dead, and it tells her what she wants to know. Starr thinks she'll be able to find the mistress of the city by making her read vamps.”

Marcus's skin tingled with the memory of the redhead's contact. Had she read him while he lay on the table? He couldn't help but wonder what she had seen. His hand lifted to touch the area where her hand had rested against his arm. The faint memory of her warm skin was almost like a calling card. It begged him to seek her out.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and voices drew near. Marcus could smell their sweat and frustration. 

Darla grinned wide, exposing a missing tooth toward the back of her mouth. “Maybe they'll start with you.”

A woman’s shaky voice outside the door said, “Guys, I don’t know about this. I mean, I don’t want to hurt her. She’s my friend. Can’t we find another way to get the info Starr wants?”

“Relax,” a deep voice consoled. “We just need to get her to do a couple jobs. That’s all. Starr said she won’t hurt her if she cooperates.”

Marcus cast one last glance at Darla. He would have liked to question her further, but didn’t have the time to spare.

The knob jiggled, and the door creaked open. Two men and a woman entered the room. The woman with vivid purple streaks in her hair spotted Marcus first and shrieked. He dropped the papers, and the woman ran back outside.

A rather large black man pointed in Marcus’s direction. “Bloodsucker!”

Darla darted toward them. The skinnier man made a move to withdraw a gun from his waistband.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Marcus warned.  The man didn’t listen.

Marcus vaulted over the sofa and grabbed him. The guy didn’t get a chance to bring the weapon up before Marcus twisted his head like a corkscrew. A pop-crack issued from the man’s neck.

The black man at his side swung a fist the size of a sledgehammer. The third knuckle had a pentacle tattoo inked onto it.

Marcus twisted away as his fist slammed into the wall. Darla orbited around them and screeched. Marcus batted her out of the way. She stumbled and banged her head against the wall.

“Get him, Ace!” An ugly expression twisted Darla’s face. She tried to grab Marcus's arm again.

Ace came toward Marcus again. This time, he pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. The blade appeared to be silver.

“Fun time’s over.” Marcus grinned at him and sidestepped another grab.

Ace swung again. The blade came nowhere near Marcus. The vampire moved too fast.

The giant of a man circled him again. Marcus caught the hand with the blade. He forced Ace to turn it toward his own chest. The tip pierced the big man's t-shirt, and he groaned with pain. “Tell me where I can find Trent and the witch and I might let you live.”

Ace did his best to mask the sting of the blade, but tears formed at the corners of his eyes. A droplet of red bloomed at the knife’s entry point.

"Where is she, big guy?" Marcus taunted.

Ace’s cell phone hummed in his back pocket. “They’ll know something’s wrong if I don’t answer.”

Marcus grinned. “Where's the witch?”

“Go to hell.” Ace managed to twist away. He still clutched the knife like a lifeline.

“Tell me where to find Starr Carter.” 

Ace diverted his gaze. The witch must have schooled her goons on how to avoid being enthralled.

“She's probably on her way upstairs.”

Marcus grabbed Darla and thrust her in front of his body as Ace swung again. This time the blade sank deep. The pungent tang of blood and spilled bowels filled the room, and Darla’s squeals died shortly. She gasped, hands fumbling at her opened abdomen. Blood and entrails escaped between her fingers, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

She slumped in his arms, breath hissing out between clamped teeth. Marcus dumped her and spun away. He watched Ace bend over the girl from the doorway. A bleak expression overcame his ogre-like features.

He hoped it would be a meaningful message if he left the hulk to explain. “See you around.”

The woman with purple streaks in her hair stood near the stairs. She tried to mold herself to a large potted plant. “They're waiting for you at the front and in the parking lot.”

“If you're lying…”

“I'm not, I swear!” 

He gripped her arm and dragged her down the stairs with him. She stumbled alongside him until they reached the lower level where he shoved her against the brick wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and brought her shoulders up to protect her neck. 

“Look at me.” 

“Please…” The woman's entire body quivered with terror.  A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her upper lip.

“Look at me or I'll make an example of you.” 

Jai Li pushed away from the wall. Black waist length hair drifted across her face. Knee high boots covered pale, slender legs that led to a barely legal mini skirt. Her modest bosom threatened to spill over the low-cut shirt she wore. “Did you bring us a snack?”

His captive whimpered.

“Perhaps. Or maybe she’ll save herself by answering a few questions.” 

Jai Li's almond shaped eyes squinted with worry. “I hope Corey's okay. We were supposed to meet back at the car, but he hasn't returned yet.” She moved away from them to peer out into the lot.

Her petite body moved with catlike grace and confidence.

Marcus gripped the captive's shoulders and thrust her against the wall. Tears leaked from her eyes, but they remained closed. 

“You have to get out of here. Starr’s put a price on your head. She fears you're more dangerous than the mistress.” The woman glanced up at him then snapped her eyes shut again. “Don't let her get you.”

Marcus and Jai Li exchanged a frown. She may have opened up, but Marcus wasn't ready to trust her yet. “What's your name, meat bag?”

“Wren,” the purple haired woman answered without hesitation.

“You’re coming with us, Wren.”

Jai Li gripped her other arm, and they led her toward the parked cars. Thus far, none of Starr's people were in sight.

Wren stumbled alongside them, unable to break free. “You want to know Starr's whereabouts?”

“For starters,” Jai Li growled.

“Well, we've got a problem because I don't know. The people who are closest to her scatter throughout the city. No one stays in the same place more than a few days at a time. She invokes a spell to keep you from finding her. You could stand outside her door and not even realize she's on the other side.”

“Change of plans.” Marcus shoved Wren toward the car.

“Wait! Where are we going?” Wren stiffened her legs, refusing to move.

“To see Emily Cross.” He practically salivated at the idea. Ever since their encounter in the mortuary, she'd invaded his dreams and stayed on his mind. Maybe if he could see her again, he could get rid of this enchantment she seemed to have over him. He'd prolonged searching her out in hopes that his infatuation would pass. In his daydreams, she was a siren who tempted him with rose petal lips, smoldering green eyes, and the cutest freckles he'd ever seen.