The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (56 page)

“First thing, I think I need to find Starling. The cop said she was off from school.” He glanced down at his watch. “She should’ve been back here by now. We need to find her.”

There was a squeak of a rusty hinge as a door opened. An ashy blonde with dark bags under her eyes and scabs across her cheeks looked out from her apartment. “What in the hell’s going on out here? First the cops, and now you guys won’t shut the fuck up.” Her sunken cheeks pulled against her jaw as she forced her words out like a hardcore drug addict.

“Sorry,” Chance said, as he took a step toward the stairs. “We’re just about to go.”

“No, wait.” Harper motioned for him to stop. “Ma’am, have you by chance seen a young girl? Black hair? About seventeen? Her name’s Starling?”

The woman stepped out of her doorway, but shrugged. “Like I told those motherfucking cops, there are a lot of brats running around here. Can’t say whether I did or not.”

“We’re no cops. We’re just looking for my daughter.” Chance took the lead.

“If you ain’t no cop, maybe we can come to an arrangement.” The pock-marked woman rubbed her fingers together and gestured toward Chance’s back pocket.

From the look of the woman and this derelict place, Harper hated to think what the money would go toward buying, but they needed to find Starling and the meth head was their only hope. “My purse is in the truck. Do you have any cash?”

Chance pulled out his wallet and took out a few bills. Before he fully extended his arm, the woman grabbed the money and stuffed it into the waistband of her baggy gray sweatpants.

“What’d ya say she looked like?” The neighbor wiped her arm under her nose.

“Wait, there’s a picture in the apartment. Let me get it.” Harper hurried back to the apartment and stepped through the yellow tape.

Careful to step around the mark on the floor where Carey’s body had rested, Harper grabbed the photo off the wall and flipped it over. On the back of the cheap cardboard-backed frame it read,
To Mom — Happy Mother’s Day. Love, Starling.
The note was written in tight jagged letters, far different from the looping, lazy letters that a normal seventeen-year-old girl would write.

She pulled the picture out of the frame and hung the empty frame back on the wall. As she turned, Harper couldn’t stop herself from staring at the sickening spot on the floor. One lazy fly buzzed down from the ceiling so slowly it looked like it was moving in the haze of a bad dream. The insect landed where Carey’s head had rested.

It haunted Harper how, just like Jenna, Carey could leave this world with more questions than answers.

Slipping the door shut, Harper hurried back to Chance and the meth addict. Chance looked relieved to see her return. The woman had an ugly sneer on her pockmarked face. “What were you doing in there, baking fucking cookies, Betty Crocker?”

Harper couldn’t bear the thought of a child living near such a vile woman. “Here,” she said handing the woman the picture. “This is her, Starling Jackson.”

The woman drew her fingers to her face and picked at one of the scabs on her chin until blood started to ooze from under her fingernail. “Yeah, I seen this girl.”

“When?” Chance jerked as he finally got the answer they both needed.

“I dunno. She wanders around here a lot, but never says much.”

“Do you know where we can find her?” Chance pressed.

The woman smiled as if she enjoyed holding all the power for once in her life. “I think so, but it’s gonna cost you. I got kids to feed of my own.” She pointed back at her apartment, as the sound of televised gunshots and actors yelling rattled out into the late evening air.

Chance pulled a few more bills from his wallet. The woman took them greedily and this time stuffed the money down her stained white shirt, revealing a dirty red bra. “She likes to hang out down at the end of this hall. I see her goin’ into the last apartment all the time.” She jabbed her blood-covered thumb toward an apartment where a tin coffee can, overflowing with cigarette butts, sat next to a threadbare recliner.

A pit opened up in Harper’s stomach as she thought of all the possibilities of what the girl might have been doing in that apartment.

“Thanks,” Chance said. He took the picture from the woman and, folding it, put it into his wallet.

“Yeah,” the woman grunted as she stepped back into her apartment. The door slammed shut and the woman yelled from the other side.

“Well, she was helpful,” Harper whispered, even though the yelling woman couldn’t have possibly heard.

Chance gave her a weak, half upturned smile as he slid his wallet back into his pocket. “At least it was a start. We need to find Starling, no matter how much it costs.”

She couldn’t agree more. The girl needed out of this place — she needed to live somewhere safe.

Chance led the way past door after door until they came to the end of the hall where they had to step around the dingy chair. Burn holes covered the armrest and an orange cap, which Harper recognized as a needle cover, was stuffed into a crack in the cushion.

The door was missing its knob, so Chance had to hold it closed as he rapped his knuckles against its smudged surface.

“Hello, anybody there?” Chance called.

No answer. Chance looked back at her and shrugged.

“Let’s go in.”

“You stay out here. I don’t know what we’re going to find,” Chance said with a look of pity upon his face.

“I’m fine,” Harper lied. “Besides, I’m sure your daughter is alright.”

Chance cringed as she said the words
your daughter
.

She stepped past him and put her hand on his. “Why don’t we go in together?”

Her fingers lingered on his rough skin and the warmth of his flesh seeped into hers. He looked at her, and stared into her eyes. “Thank you, Harper. And I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know what you’re going through. You didn’t deserve to have to deal with this too.”

Her heart shifted. “Chance, I’m glad I’m here. I know what it’s like to be alone and having to deal with everything life throws at you.”

She moved to open the door and her body brushed against his arm, but their gaze never wavered from one another. His stormy eyes seemed to warm. He was so close she could smell his rich, manly scent. The heat of his breath brushed against her cheek like a wanting hand.

Chance leaned in and, in one smooth motion, took her lips with his own. His full lips pressed against hers and she nipped at his bottom lip, giving him a sexy reminder he was playing a dangerous game. His body tensed against her arm and he leaned back.

“Damn it.” He stepped away. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He was right, but she couldn’t regret his stealing the moment. “You’re right,” she answered, trying to catch her breath.

His brows furrowed and for a split second he looked upset that she would agree with him. “Let’s go.”

The door opened and the smell of sour milk and mouse droppings wafted out, forcing Harper to cover her nose. There, sitting in the center of the room, sat a young girl. Her black hair was disheveled, as if it had been days since it had last seen a brush.

“Starling?” Chance asked.

The girl didn’t look up.

Harper stepped by him, careful not to touch him again. “Sweetheart?” She stepped next to the girl and kneeled down, getting at her level. “Starling?”

Harper reached out and touched the girl’s shoulder. The girl jerked and looked up at Harper with piercing sea blue eyes. There was a look of fear on her face, as if until this moment she had not been aware of anyone around her. “Who? Who’re you?”

Chance stepped next to them and, moving a dirty shirt out of the way, he knelt down. “Are you Starling Jackson?”

The young girl nodded, but looked back down at the pad of paper and pencil in her lap, which was covered with strange circles and markings. She glanced back up.

“Starling, I’m your father. My name’s Chance Landon.”

The girl shrugged, almost unemotionally, as she stared at Chance. “Carey said you’d come if something happened to her.”

“How do you know something happened to your mother?”

Starling blinked like she was numb. “I got home from school and I saw the police. I came in here to hide. Mom’s dead, isn’t she?”

Chance nodded, as if he couldn’t say the words to the wild young woman staring up at him like a young fawn.

“Starling,” Chance said with a soft edge to his deep baritone, “you’re going to need to come with me and my friend Harper. We need to get you out of here.”

Harper kept surprising Chance with her kindness. She was going through so much, yet she had insisted they come back to her sister’s home to stay until he could decide his next step. In truth, he appreciated her offer more than she could know. It seemed better to stay at Jenna’s house it was a far better place than some seedy motel. Even though Starling was his daughter, they barely knew each other.

Harper and Starling sat at the kitchen table around bags of fast food. Even though they’d spent more than three hours together, Starling had barely spoken since they’d loaded her, a suitcase, and a backpack into his pickup.

“Are you done eating?” Chance asked her.

Starling stared up at the ceiling, watching something that only she could see. There was something about Starling that was different, but Chance couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was amiss. There was just something about the way she seemed to be lost in a world of her own.

Harper tapped her shoulder. “Did you hear your dad, sweetheart?”

The girl seemed to snap back to reality. “Huh?”

“Are you done eating?” Harper smiled.

Starling nodded, but looked back up at the ceiling.

Harper picked up the garbage and threw it into the bin under the kitchen sink. “If you’re done, why don’t I show you to your room? I bet you’re exhausted.”

The girl gave her a weak nod and stood up. She clasped her hands like a prim schoolgirl, a far contrast to the pale, wild looking young woman who stood before him.

Harper walked out of the kitchen and motioned for them to follow. She made her way upstairs and stepped into the guest bedroom at the far end of the hall. “There’s a restroom right here,” she said, pointing to the next doorway. “In there, you’ll find everything you need for a bath if you want one, but the shower is acting up.”

Sterling walked into the bedroom. She flopped down on the bed and pulled her worn notebook out of her backpack. “How long am I staying here?” Her question sounded like an accusation, and it made Chance wonder if she’d moved around a lot as a child. The gaping hole in his heart grew larger.

“I don’t know,” Harper said as he stepped next to her. “But you and your dad are welcome to stay as long as necessary.”

“Thank you, Harper,” he said.

“Absolutely.” Harper stepped out of the bedroom. “And Starling, your dad will be staying right next door. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to let one of us know, okay?”

Starling nodded, but didn’t look up from the notebook that rested in her lap.

Chance pulled the door shut. “I mean it, thanks, Harper.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “It’s the least I could do. I feel like this is my fault. I should’ve asked Carey more questions. Maybe I could’ve stopped this all from happening.”

“I doubt it. Carey was always a loose cannon. It was only a matter of time until she wound up in trouble.” Trouble always seemed to go hand-in-hand with nymphs.

Harper pushed a wayward hair out of her face. As she made her way down the stairs, a faint light made her dark hair sparkle like strands of fine copper. She was so beautiful. In fact, she was almost too beautiful.

“Harper, are you — ” He stopped himself from asking her if she was a nymph. Even if she was one, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Am I what?” Harper asked.

He stared at her hair where it caressed her neck. He could find out if she was a nymph now if he wanted, all he had to do was flip back her hair, and look to see if she bore the mark. If she did, he had his answer. He would know whether or not she was a nymph, just like Carey.

He reached up, but stopped himself again. What if she was a nymph? Did he really want to know? Did he really want to get involved with another cursed woman? If his relationship with Carey had taught him anything it was to steer clear of nymphs — well, as much as he could. With Starling in his life, there would be no more avoiding their kind.

Harper, misjudging his outstretched hand, took his hand in hers.

Starling footsteps echoed down from the bedroom above. “Do you think Starling is going to be alright?” he asked, avoiding her question.

“She just lost her mom and her home. Just because she isn’t talkative, it doesn’t mean things are always going to be this hard. She’ll come through this and so will you.”

“I know,” he lied. It was almost unimaginable for life to get anything but harder now that he had another person to take care of. He could hardly take care of himself, let alone drag a poor young woman on the road with him.

Harper led him to the living room and sat down on the couch. Letting go of her hand, he sat down in the recliner.

“What do you think you are going to do with her?” Harper asked, leaning back on the couch.

“I don’t know.” He perched on the edge of the chair. “Kodie’s playing in Worley tonight, but tomorrow we were going to head out to Vegas for a poker tournament. He’s gonna go ape shit when he finds out about Carey’s death and Starling.”

“So you’re going to leave?”

“We were planning on going, but now I don’t know.” He watched the light shift in her eyes. “I can’t take Starling with me.”

“Are you saying you want to leave her here with me?”

“No. No. No.” He shook his head. “That’s not what I was saying at all.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He paused for a second as he tried to get back control of his mouth and his thoughts. There was no one, and nowhere else the girl could go except with him and Kodie.

“I’m just tired. I need to think through everything. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed.” There were so many questions running through his mind, he barely knew where to begin to get his life, and now the life of his daughter, back in order.