The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (71 page)

“I’ve never even read the autopsy report,” she wheezed.

“I can’t believe you didn’t think more of my work than to not even read my eloquent report. I did a fabulous job of concealing the truth. I thought at least someone like you, someone who has spent her whole life dodging the secret and curse of her kind, could appreciate my efforts.”

“Did you have something to do with … with Jenna’s death?” A stream of rage gurgled up from her depths at the mere thought.

The woman released another vile cackle. “Those men were stupid, but they were onto something. Why can’t supernaturals like us have children? Why can’t we have what most humans take for granted?”

Supernaturals like us
, she’d said. But Harper knew Dr. Redbird was nothing like her — from the look of the woman, she was no nymph. And from the dead man at her feet, they couldn’t have been more different. She would have never killed an innocent. Dr. McDougal had been a lab geek, but he’d never posed a threat. He hadn’t deserved to die.

Harper glared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that … Not all of us can be as lucky to be pretty and popular as you and your weak little sisterhood of nymphs. Some of us have to work for what we get in life. Some of us aren’t blessed with popularity and seduction. You and your kind aren’t anything but a bunch of stuck up little sluts.”

“You don’t know anything about me … or my kind.”

“Oh really? Are you really going to try and tell me you haven’t been fucking that pompous asshole, Chance Landon?”

The wind rushed from Harper’s lungs.

Dr. Redbird’s disgusting smile widened. “I bet you want to go running to him right now, don’t you? You and your kind always need a man to rescue you … you sluts.”

The anger that pulsed through Harper’s veins seized her mind. “Fuck off. I don’t give a shit if you kill me. You aren’t getting anything, you bitch.”

“The good thing about me and my kind is that we take what we want. We don’t care what you feeble little things think. I’ll get what I want one way or another.”

“What are you?”

“I’m a Catharterian.”

“A vulture-shifter?” Dr. Redbird, the humble civil servant who focused her life on working with the dead? Of course. The woman was a scavenger, feasting on the woes of others. If only Harper had been paying more attention, maybe she would have seen the woman for what she really was, but no, she had been too wrapped up in her affairs to take into account everything that had been going on around her.

Dr. Redbird scoffed. “Don’t act like you are better than me. You’re not. I’m the one holding the death juice, remember?” She lifted the needle and jiggled its contents. “You are going to give me the GX 149.”

“No. I don’t care if you kill me.”

“Then I will kill your precious little halfling, Starling, and your dirty lover, Chance.”

“You wouldn’t hurt them.”

Dr. Redbird’s foot connected with Dr. McDougal’s motionless body. “Wanna make a bet?”

Harper glanced down at Dr. McDougal’s eyes. They stared out at nothingness. For a brief second, she wondered what it would be like to have no more pain, no more choices, and no more guilt. In a way, Dr. McDougal’s lifeless body was enviable, all of his imperfections, every mistake he had made were now forgiven and forgotten. He was sinless.

If Harper gave up, if she let this vile, carrion-fed vulture win, she would die knowing she gave up — and would die a coward. Harper was many things: workaholic, control freak, bull-headed, but she’d never once thought of herself as a coward — and she wasn’t about to start being one now, not when so many people depended on her, now when she could really make a difference.

She loved Starling. She loved Chance. Life would always be hard, but maybe she could make it a little easier for the people she loved. And right now, the best thing she could do for the both of them was play along with the crazed vulture.

“Fine. The drugs are yours.”

“Good. I didn’t want to have to take things this far. I’m glad you finally see the light. If only Carey could have listened and handed over the drugs. I would have never had to kill her.”

Harper tried to quell the fear rising in her belly. A vulture couldn’t be trusted. The insatiable greed for death and mayhem was their calling card. Death always followed in their wake.

“I’ve been watching you, Harper.” The woman dropped the needle, the plastic cylinder resting on her black pants. “I see the way you fawn over Starling, like she is some little girl in need of saving. You need to know the truth. You need to know where she came from. What kind of woman her mother really was … All Carey cared about was herself and her drugs. The only good thing she ever did was die.”

“She didn’t deserve to die just because she wasn’t willing to put her daughter in danger and give you the drugs. She was a great mom. She was willing to die to help the one she loved.”

“Oh don’t act like Carey Jackson was innocent. Really, I think I did you a favor in getting rid of that woman.” The doctor shoved the needle down into her purse. “Now, if you aren’t going to do what I tell you, then I will just go after Starling. That little bitch will give me everything I need.”

Harper took in a deep breath. “I’ll take you up to the penthouse. I only have a small amount of GX 149 left, but I’ll give you everything I have.”

The snapping sound of the cards mixed with the click of the plastic chips as the players sat down around the poker table. The familiar noises made Chance’s skin tingle with excitement. When he was away for a few days it was easy to forget how much he loved this game, but sitting here, surrounded by the sounds of the tournament chips and the nervous chatter of his competitors, it all pulled him back in. This was the life he was meant to live. It was just too bad Harper couldn’t see the value of his dreams.

She had said she didn’t love him. Nothing had ever hurt him more … not his divorce … nothing. It had been ridiculous of him to assume what he had been feeling was going to work out. He’d been an idiot. He should’ve followed his gut when he’d first met her. A woman like her was never going to want to be with a drifter like him. She had proven herself to be like every other woman he’d been with — she wanted the whole white picket fence thing. And that was never going to be something he was going to be able to offer. All he could give was his love and she had turned him away.

For a fleeting second he wondered if it was all some act — was it possible she was only doing this out of fear?

He glanced around Bobby’s Room, the area of the Bellagio set aside for high-stakes games. Vice was talking to the player to his right, almost as if purposefully trying to not interact with Three-Eyed Nate. As Chance turned, Nate sneered at him.

A crowd of onlookers had formed inside the doors that led into the room. A few cameras flashed, giving the room a strange party feel. Starling was once again huddled in a corner, concentrated on her book. Everyone was there for the multimillion-dollar show. Everyone except Harper.

If she did love him, she would have been down in the room, showing her support — she had to be done with Dr. McDougal by now. He tried to control some of his wavering emotions. Harper was helping Starling, he had to remember that. She was trying to help his daughter. Even if she didn’t care about him, she did care about Starling. Very few times in his life had someone been so giving or so willing to help. The thought only made him want her more.

Looking to the door, he silently begged she would break through the crowd and meet him with a wanting smile, but he was only met with a burly man wearing black leather chaps leading a scared looking businessman around on a leash. Chance snorted as he remembered the businessman from the lobby when they had arrived.

Across the room from the Dom and his Sub, Kodie leaned against the wall as he talked with Mr. Blackwater and his bodyguard. Chance hated to think what they were talking about.

“Hey, Take-A-Chance, I hope you and Kodie have my money,” Three-Eyed Nate growled from across the poker table as they waited for the game to begin.

The four other players stared at Chance like he was a sheep being led to slaughter. “We got it. Kodie is good to his word.”

Chance tried not to stare up at the tattooed eye in the middle of Three-Eyed Nate’s head. When Nate frowned the inked eye seemed to blink shut, the effect made Chance want to look away. It was a smart ploy by a poker player to use such a hideous diversion — the creepy eye was guaranteed to draw the focus away from the activity at the table, or in this case, the threat Nate posed.

The dealer shuffled the deck one more time and laid his hands down on the table, in true Vegas style. The player to the left of the dealer put out a blind, similar to an ante, and was followed with a big blind by the man to his left. The muffled sounds of slot machines and bells echoed into the room from the main casino floor.

Nerves crept up Chance’s spine. This was it. Either they were going to win and pay back Nate, or they would have to trust the gaming commissioner to follow through on his end of the deal. A card slid across the felt and stopped at Chance’s fingertips as the dealer made his way clockwise around the table.

Three-Eyed Nate leaned forward and lifted the edge of his cards. The fading tattoo on his forehead squinted, as if it too was trying to see the cards. The second card slid across the table and stopped at the edges of Chance’s fingertips.

He flipped up the corners of the cards just far enough for him to see. He was met with a king of hearts and a king of spades. He had to check his smile, but he couldn’t stop the thought of how even his cards were an omen. In a way they were just like him, he could be the king of love and romance, or he could be left with spades — the symbol of war. Love and war, together in his poker hand and in his life. Individually the cards were nothing, but together they were strong, powerful, and able to rule the table if he could play them well.

Or maybe he could have gotten their meaning all wrong. Maybe they meant he would have to fight for love in order to be the ruler of his own life.

He shook away the thoughts. They were nothing more than a couple of great cards, a pair of kings that would help him win the game … or set up Nate’s collusion as the gaming commissioner wanted. This night and the future of the people around him rested on his shoulders.

Vice and another of the players folded as the play passed around the table. Chance checked.

“Don’t have the cards, eh, Take-a-Chance?” Three-Eyed Nate said, breaking the tense silence between the players.

Chance didn’t take the bait. It was only the beginning, he had to play tight, but he had to play the hand he was dealt.

“I get it. You’re used to playing with your little friend Kodie, aren’t you?” The eye on Nate’s forehead seemed to widen as the man gave a gape-mouthed laugh. Chance tried to ignore the man’s jibes as the play continued around him. The game was going to be long if this was how Three-Eyed Nate was going to play.

The dealer burned a card, setting it to the side, and then dealt the flop cards. Queen of hearts, eight of hearts, and a two of diamonds.

Chance had three suited cards in hearts and the pair of kings. The odds were still in his favor.

Two more players folded, leaving only Chance and Three-Eyed Nate in the hand.

“Don’t forget how much you owe me, Take-a-Chance,” Nate chided.

It was going to be hard not to follow his gut and push Three-Eyed Nate’s fat face into the felt. The only way Chance could win was to play tight, no emotions, no tells — and especially no anger. He couldn’t let Three-Eyed Nate get under his skin.

He threw out a bet of ten thousand.

“Whew,” Three-Eyed Nate said in an exhale. “Must have a damn fine hand.” The man stared at Chance, waiting for him to make a mistake, but Nate would have to keep waiting — Chance was here to win.

Chance gave a shallow laugh. “Stay in or get out, it’s up to you, but if you played like you did last year in the World Series of Poker Tournament, I’m sure you won’t need to get too comfortable. You won’t make it to the final two.”

The dealer flipped the turn card. King of clubs. The king of the peasants. Perfect. Three of a kind with his pocket kings. Chance had the win almost regardless of what the last card, or the river, would bring.

Nate flipped up the corner of his cards.

“You gonna bet, or do I need to call time on you?”

“I have ninety seconds.” Nate dropped down the corners of his cards. “Check.”

Chance bet fifteen thousand. Nate drew his hands to his face, covering his mouth. After a few seconds, he reached down and threw in his cards, folding the hand.

“I hope you’ll have enough cash left at the end of the game,” Chance jabbed. “I’d hate for you to lose your ass.”

Nate leaned back, even his tattooed eye seemed to glare at him. Chance took his time organizing the chips he’d won into four neat stacks. Mr. Blackwater took a step forward. Catching Chance’s eye, he shook his head — reminding Chance of what all he had to lose.

• • •

The door to the elevator opened and the couple standing in front of Harper and Dr. Redbird stepped out, leaving them alone.

Harper turned to face her enemy. “I just don’t understand. You want to have a child, yes?”

Dr. Redbird answered with a tight nod.

“Well, if Jenna wasn’t able to carry a child to term with GX 149, then what makes you think you’ll be able to?

The doctor’s purse slipped on her shoulder and the woman jerked it back into place — allowing nothing out of control. “Don’t think you are smarter than me … I just need the drugs and then I can figure out a way to have a child.”

The elevator climbed, carrying them higher up the building.

“Clearly they didn’t work for Jenna — and they probably won’t work for you.” Harper tried to keep her face straight as the thought of Jenna and her miscarriage came to the front of her mind. Suddenly it made sense, the drugs had helped with fertility, but in order for a pregnancy to be carried to term, the woman had to also mate with a god or demigod.

Harper’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and studied the text. “Chance is playing,” Starling had written.