The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (31 page)

A long shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds above them and shone down on crisp a patch of fresh snow about fifty yards away. A white snowshoe hare sat in the snow staring at them, the only thing moving was the thin little whiskers around its triangular, flat nose. The black-tipped ears froze as it stared at her with its perfectly round eyes as if it waited for her to move, to attack.

The same energy that had filled her when she’d been near the horse tickled her senses. The hare stared at her. The little animal was scared.

The wind picked up and the rabbit’s gaze flashed to the right where a tall mound of dirt sat half covered in brush. Something on the hillside to its right was disturbing him. Her heartbeat echoed the creature’s, fast and erratic, ready for danger. She tried to keep the energy between them flowing, but with such a small animal it was a challenge. She couldn’t make out what the animal was afraid of; it was something large, uncommon, and more importantly, unwelcome in the mammal’s territory.

Dane stood up and stepped back, breaking a stick with a loud snap. Before she could urge the hare to stop, it had zigzagged away from the danger of Dane and whatever was to the right of the tall mound of dirt.

Aura tried to seem unhurried as she picked her way through the strangling limbs of the brush to where the hare had sat. The animal’s tracks were long oval shapes in the snow, followed by long skiffs where it had made its dashing getaway. Behind the snowy mound something blue caught her eye.

She stepped nearer to the blue object, to get a closer look. It had crisscrossed lines across its surface. She reached out to touch the shiny plastic.

“What are you doing?” Dane said, surprising her.

“Nothing.” She stopped and pointed her finger at the object. “I think I might have found something. Come check this out.”

His footsteps crunched in the snow as he made his way next to her. “What the hell?” He slipped a pair of black leather gloves on and stepped toward the blue plastic. He stopped and looked back to her. “I think it’s a tarp.”

“Hey, Grant?” he yelled. “You done with that camera?”

Officer Grant meandered in their direction. “Coming.”

The officer clicked away behind them taking photos as Dane pulled up the edge of the tarp. It crackled as its frozen surface begged to be left untouched. He pulled in a harsh breath and then slowly exhaled, his breath making a swirling white cloud.

Under the tarp was a mass of dark brown hair attached to the pale skin of a young woman. She was probably in her early twenties and her mouth was open, as if she had been screaming when she’d died.

“Is this your sister?” Dane motioned to the woman with a jab of his thumb.

Aura couldn’t take her eyes away from the white skin of the woman. She was so pale. Her lips were drained of blood and were only a slight shade darker than her ghostly flesh. What had happened to these women?

“Aura?”

She jerked at the sound of her name. “No … It’s not her.” The relief that she had been feeling slipped into a sense of foreboding — the chances were slipping away that Natalie was still alive. “I need to get out of here. I can’t stand this anymore.”

Dane’s gaze snapped to her. “I’m sorry. I should have realized … you shouldn’t be here.”

The snow squeaked as she spun on her heel, away from the woman’s frozen gaze. She stepped up the hill and her foot slipped. Beneath her foot was an ice-covered purple rectangle.

“Dane … ” She gasped. Her finger shook as she pointed at the familiar object. “Look.”

Dane sprinted over as quickly as the slick snow would allow. Aura pointed at the little purple rectangle that lay exposed.

“Grant, you need to take a few more pictures for evidence,” Dane ordered.

The secondary officer slipped as he walked over and took several quick photos. As he finished, Dane leaned down and picked up the tiny cell phone from the snow with the edge of a plastic bag. “Maybe we can dry it out. Get some information from it. Figure out who the phone belonged to and who they called.” He sounded like a kid who’d just found the decoder ring at the bottom of a cereal box.

His excitement made the fist of nerves in her stomach clench, pushing the bile up into her throat. She swallowed it down like a poisonous draught as she attempted to find her voice. The acid burned at her throat, threatening to close down the little faculty for speech that she could still muster. “You don’t need it to work … It’s Natalie’s … The thing died when … when I was talking to her.”

“Are you sure?”

Aura reached down and lifted the bag from Dane’s pinched fingers. Her hope pulsed through her, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was being a little too jumpy. It was possible the cell could belong to one of the icy corpses. She closed her eyes as she silently mouthed a prayer to the gods.

She’d never been one for prayer, for silly hopes, and least of all for bohemian art — unlike Natalie. She’d loved the stuff. The more ethereal, the more out-there, the more her sister had loved it. The love went so far to even include her phone. One day, Aura had walked in to find Natalie painting over-simplified, gaudy pink flowers on the front edges of her purple phone. If there was any one who loved Aura up in the heavens, they would do her this one solid favor and there would be no awful pink flowers on this phone.

The wet phone slid down in the bag like a thousand pound weight. It jerked and twisted, mimicking the slow rhythmic slide of blood as it oozed to her core, protecting her from the potential freezing pain of finding more of her sister’s evidence — and confirming that there was less of a chance that she was still alive. The thud of the phone hitting the bottom hit her with the emotional weight of a freight train.

The bag turned as if in slow motion. A bit of heavy snow thumped to the ground a few yards away. From the corner of her eye, Dane’s breath formed an arcing cloud. In the distance, the low rumble of the sergeant’s voice echoed up off the snow.

The plastic bag crinkled as she looked down at the face of the phone.

In that moment, those damned pink flowers, with their malformed edges, incinerated the little threads of selfish need that she clung to — all hope was destroyed.

“You need to get your dumb ass off this ranch right now, or I will take this gun and shove it up your lily-white ass.” Zeb thrust the tip of the shotgun up, mimicking his threat. He glared out at Dane from under the brim of his brand new cowboy hat. “You have no goddamned business being out here. You gave up that right.”

Dane stood behind the cover of the driver’s side door of the patrol car staring up at his brother as Zeb wrapped his arm around the shotgun and lifted a can of green snuff from his pocket. With an air of nonchalance, he took a dip and stuffed it into his lip, creating a bulge under his bottom lip.

The snow slid down off the roof of the house and fell with a wet thud to the ground just left of the porch where Zeb stood holding the gun. Same white house, same white picket fence, and the same bullshit Dane had always put up with as a child — while Zeb went on being his normal overly charming self.

Zeb lifted the gun from under his arm and pointed it in the direction of the car.

“Put the gun down, Zeb.” His voice carried the edge of a practiced cop — the definite tone of don’t-fuck-with-me mixed with I’ll-shoot-you-if-you-even-try-to-move. As he pointed the gun straight at his brother’s forehead, he forced himself not to smile. Sometimes this job felt so right it hurt.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, little Danish … ” Zeb chuckled as he stepped behind the porch’s banister. “You don’t have the balls to do a real man’s job. You’re nothing but a sniveling little boy — hell, that’s all you’ve ever been.”

His skin bristled with the jabs his brother threw at him, but he had a job to do — and it wasn’t to be ruffled by his older, belligerent brother. “I’ll ask you one more time. Put the gun down.”

Zeb spat into the almost pristine white snow. “Enjoying your role as a big boy, are you?” The gun flagged lazily toward the passenger-side of the car. “I see you have my little trespasser in the car with you. I hadn’t planned on pressing charges … but since you got her here … and after her little incident with Dancer … Well, I think I just changed my mind.”

Aura squirmed in the passenger seat.

“Forget to tell me something?” Dane whispered under his breath as he flashed her an angry glance.

She looked over at him with a guilty twinkle in her eye. “I might have left a few things out, but he was the real criminal for letting his hand beat his horse. I didn’t think you would be bringing me back here. You should’ve warned me.”

Now wasn’t the time to get in an argument with one of his … what was she? A witness or a suspect?

He stared up at Zeb. The bastard had a self-righteous smirk on his face as if he knew he had caused contention between Dane and Aura. The man loved a good fight.

“Listen, Zeb … If you don’t put that gun down right now, I will be forced to put a non-lethal shotgun round into your chest. From what I hear, they aren’t too pleasant.”

The tip of Zeb’s gun lowered, but came to a stop at the level of the bottom of the banister.

“Zeb, why don’t you just listen instead of being an asshole?”

His sergeant would undoubtedly have something to say about the way he was handling the situation, but Dane didn’t let it get to him. There was only one way to handle his brother. And if Sergeant Tester wanted to get up in arms about the situation, the next time he could come himself — he knew their history and Dane’s well-placed hatred, yet he’d sent him anyway.

The gun thumped as Zeb sat it down against the top banister of the deck. Zeb stepped out onto the front step like an everyday perpetrator. “You gonna arrest me now? I was just playing with you, you know.” He lifted his hands and laced his fingers behind his head.

Dane wanted to run up there and throw his brother to the ground, but his father’s words rolled through his mind like an old scratchy record.
“He’ll always be your brother, boy. Blood is thicker than water.”

Some ghosts he could never outrun, no matter how hard he tried.

“I don’t think flagging me down with a gun is ‘just playing.’ You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your stupid ass.” Dane stepped out from behind the open door and made his way toward the gun that rested on the porch. He walked past the man and picked up the discarded weapon. The barrel was clear.

“See? It wasn’t even loaded.” He jabbed toward the gun with his elbow. “Can I put my hands down now?”

Dane ignored his plea. Zeb deserved to be uncomfortable for a while — and Dane had every right to arrest the gray-haired paunch-bellied man in front of him.

“I need you to answer some questions for me.” Dane pulled his notepad from his pocket. “I found some interesting things outside of the ranch that I think you might be able to help me with.”

Zeb’s bushy eyebrow shot up. “Like what? I heard about the hand at the lake. This wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would it?”

His brother had always had a knack at getting under his skin and reading his mind — both abilities pissed him off in equal amounts. He tried to play it off. “I’ll be asking the questions. You just need to answer. Do we understand each other?”

Zeb’s port-belly jiggled as he laughed. “Whatever you say, little brother.”

The words “little brother” dug at him and Zeb knew it — it had always pissed Dane off to be less-than — to always be trying to break out of his brother and father’s abyssal shadows. “You haven’t seen Angela lately, have you?”

Zeb’s smug grin disappeared faster than a bunch of kids at a vandalism call. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

“When’s the last time you saw your wife?”

“She hasn’t run back to you with some sob story, has she? I told her if she didn’t get a handle on her drinking she was out.” Zeb got a disgusted look on his face as he spat the words. “That’s the God’s honest truth. I put her out on her ass. She knew it was coming.”

Dane twisted his brother’s shotgun in his hands and inspected the cherry-colored worn wood — it had been their father’s. His brother was an asshole, but would he have gone so far as to hurt Angela?

“When was that, Zeb?”

“Two weeks ago … Maybe two and a half. I don’t know for sure.”

He tried to gauge his brother’s honesty based on his answers. He couldn’t let his own hatred get in the way. “You can put your hands down.”

Zeb unlaced his fingers and dropped his arms to his sides, shaking them out. The gun’s butt dropped down to the porch with a dull thud and he leaned it against the post.

“What’s going on, Dane?”

The door to the patrol car opened with a jarring screech. Aura stepped out, cell phone in hand. Dane’s heart leapt up into his throat and his chest ached with pity and a strange tinge of protectiveness. He shouldn’t have let her come here. To this place. To see this predacious man. Zeb could sense weakness like a wolf could smell a newborn calf.

“Aura, get back in the car.”

“Oh look who it is. Hello, my little law-breaker. Did Dane tell you that you have an open invitation to dinner?”

Aura glared up at Zeb. “I wouldn’t have dinner with you if you were the last man on earth.”

Zeb laughed and his ample stomach bounced. “I should have known you would go and fuck my brother. You want to watch out though … I hear he’s got a little pecker. But then, what do you care … You’re nothing, just a little law-breaker. And nothing but trouble.”

Aura charged past the door. “Look, you — ”

“Aura. No. He’s only trying to piss you off.” Dane stepped between her and Zeb. “Please go back to the car. I will find out everything we need to know. This won’t be the last time we have a chance to talk to him. Don’t get upset.”

“Run along, little lady.” Zeb’s smirk returned. “Listen to little Danish now. He’s always looking after his
fillies
.”

A look of shock flashed on Aura’s face as if Zeb has slapped her instead of merely chided.

“That’s
enough
.” Dane pushed his brother back harder than he’d intended. “Leave her alone.”

Zeb stared at her with a hungry wolf-like look in his eyes. “You and my brother aren’t welcome on this place. You need to get the hell out of here.”