“And no one noticed?” Nana asked. “Surely people talked.”
“No, like I said, she kept it covered with a scarf. It was only for a few weeks, so nobody commented on it.”
According to the newspaper articles, this had happened over the span of a month. Surely that meant I had time. My life had only been unraveling for a matter of days.
“Sylvia thought it happened because of the curse,” Dorothy said.
“What curse?” Nana asked.
“After the hot flashes and fires started, Sylvia told me a story her mother had regaled her with. According to family lore, there was a curse on the women in her line. Something to do with an ancestor who lived in England. Though she was unclear about some of the details, it was believed the women of the family line would meet their end in a fiery death. I know Sylvia believed it was true. The family had moved to Perry’s Fall in the hopes of escaping it. But it didn’t change anything for Sylvia’s mother or her grandmother. Her mother died of scarlet fever in her thirties, and her grandmother died in childbirth in her early forties.” She gave me a knowing look. “One of those change-of-life babies.”
Which meant neither of them had gone through menopause. Just like Mom and Nana. Maybe Ella was onto something with the medication idea. Hot flashes caused the fires, so if I could stop them from happening, I should be able to suppress the fire.
“So the fiery death curse must still have affected Sylvia’s great-grandmother,” I said, “if her death was the reason the family relocated. Did Sylvia know what happened to her?”
“She died in a fire,” Dorothy said. “As a child, Sylvia’s grandmother had thought the curse was nonsense, everyone did, but she changed her mind when she saw what happened to her mother.”
“I had no idea about any of this,” Nana said, looking grief-stricken.
“Sylvia didn’t want you to know,” Dorothy said. “She was hoping it was all a bunch of hooey, but when it started happening to her, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
“Did she get any marks on her back?” I asked. “Like a tattoo?”
Dorothy gave me a confused look. “No. Not that I know about.”
I nodded. “That’s okay.”
That didn’t mean anything. She might not have told Dorothy, or maybe she didn’t notice. I’d only noticed my wings because I’d had on that backless dress in the dressing room. Otherwise, I might still be oblivious. I didn’t typically spend a lot of time admiring my back in the mirror. Not since I was a teen checking out my tan lines.
I had never believed in curses. If they “worked,” it was the power of suggestion, but I’d never heard of this curse until now, so there was no suggesting any of these manifestations into existence. But if there was one thing I knew for sure—or thought I did from having consumed plenty of pop culture on the topic—it was that curses could be broken. You just had to know who’d created the curse, and presumably why they’d done it.
But how in the world was I supposed to find out who’d cursed my many-times-over great-grandmother? And what would happen then? Would I need to locate their descendant?
It all seemed so impossible.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We left soon after that, and poor Nana was more distressed than I’d ever seen her.
“Stop worrying so much, Nana,” I said, trying to sound reassuring even though I was freaking out. “I’m going to get an appointment with my doctor so I can ask for medication to stop my hot flashes.”
She turned to me in surprise. “You can do that?”
“Ella thinks so. Based on the timeline of what happed to your mother, I should have a couple of weeks to get it under control.”
“Oh, Darcie, I hope so. Or maybe you can have your ovaries removed.”
That was a possibility, but I doubted I could get an ob-gyn to agree to such a drastic procedure unless I could prove it was medically necessary. If I started spouting off about hot flashes and fires, I’d find myself in a locked ward. Great-Grandma Sylvia’s almost-fate was proof enough of that.
“We can’t tell the kids, okay?” I said. “They’re already upset enough about everything else. They don’t need to know about this too.”
Her expression tightened. “If you keep them in the dark, you’ll be doing the same thing to them that my mother did to me. It was awful, the not knowing.”
“First of all, I doubt your mother knew she was going to burn up. It sounds like she was feeling pretty good before it happened. And second, do you really think she would have told you if she’d thought she was going to die like that? Would you have told Mom and Uncle Matthew?”
She was silent for a long moment. “I can’t help but feel responsible.”
“How can this be your fault, Nana? Because it appears to be hereditary? It’s not your fault, just like it’s not Mom’s fault and it won’t be my fault if this passes to Harriet or Elena.” But when I mentioned my own children, I realized how impossible it was not to feel guilty about such a thing. Maybe I should tell them what was going on so they wouldn’t be completely blindsided like I was.
“Let me think about it,” I said. “Let’s see if the medication helps.”
“Okay,” she finally said, then was quiet the rest of the ride home.
Harriet was in the living room when we walked into the house. Nana barely said hello before excusing herself and heading off to take a nap. Or so she said.
I asked Harriet about her weekend and we talked about her upcoming ACT exam. A deep melancholy seeped into my bones. I’d always presumed I’d be around to see her graduate and go off to college. Be there when she got married and snuggle her babies. What if I was like Sylvia—confident I’d conquered the curse when instead it was conquering me?
“Mom,” Harriet said, worry lines etched into her forehead, “what’s going on? I’ve never seen Nana like that, and you seem…subdued.”
“Maybe Nana’s coming down with something. She was pretty quiet at lunch with her friend. And me…well, I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m just tired.” I gave her a warm smile. “What do you say we snuggle up on the sofa and watch a movie, just the two of us?”
Her face lit up. “I’m going to get us a snack. You want anything?”
“Surprise me.”
I closed my eyes and tried to settle my racing thoughts. I’d love nothing more than to hole myself up and think all of this through, but if the medication didn’t work, then I might only have a few weeks left with my kids. The least I could do was be there for them now.
I’d just grabbed the remote to turn on the TV when I felt my skin begin to flush.
Horror washed through me.
No. Not now. Not with Harriet in the next room.
I was about to run outside, but I saw the firewood stacked up at the edge of the hearth. Leaping off the sofa and nearly falling on my face, I rushed over to the fireplace. I picked up a log with one hand while I opened the fireplace screen with the other.
The heat grew in my chest and flooded my head, making my upper body feel like it was about to combust. Then the heat raced down my arms into my hands and the log instantly burst into flames. I tossed it into the fireplace and watched it glow bright red, hotter than a natural fire would burn. The next log I picked up caught fire too, only this blaze didn’t seem as intense.
“Mom?” Harriet said, fear in her voice.
Little wonder. I was holding a burning log.
Tossing it into the fireplace, I turned to face her. “I thought it might be cozy to have a fire.”
She moved toward me carrying a tray with two glasses of water and two bags of chips. “But your hand…you were holding a burning log…”
“It only looked that way,” I said, holding up my hand so she could see it was unscathed.
She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything when I shut the screen and moved back to the sofa. She just set the tray down on the coffee table.
“What’s it going to be?” I asked, reaching for
her. “You mentioned wanting to see that Sandra Bullock movie.”
“That sounds good,” she said as she picked up my hand to examine it. “No burns.”
“See?” I said, my anxiety ratcheting up. “I told you.”
“You were touching fire, Mom. I know what I saw.” Her gaze lifted to my head and she tugged off my cap, gasping when she saw my new streaks. “What’s happening to you?”
“I’m fine, Harriet.”
“No, you’re not, Mom. Something is going on.”
I drew in a breath. “You’re right. Something is going on, but I’m okay.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“I am,” I said, brushing several strands of her dark hair from her cheek. “I’m calling the doctor first thing in the morning. It was Ella’s idea.”
Guilt filled her eyes. “You talked to Ella?”
It occurred to me that if I didn’t manage to save myself, Harriet would need someone to talk to more than ever. I needed to make sure she knew I was okay with it. “She and I met last night and had a nice long chat. Don’t worry, I know the two of you have been communicating, and I’m glad that you had someone you felt comfortable talking to. I talked to her too, and she helped me come up with a plan to work on this.”
“She did?” she asked in surprise.
“Yeah, and we both know how smart she is, so for now, we’ll trust the plan we came up with and enjoy the movie. Okay?”
She smiled, then threw her arms around my neck. “I love you, Mom.”
I would get a handle on this, because I had something to fight for. Three somethings to fight for.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Parker was back at work on Monday morning, but he refused to look at me when I passed him in the hall.
“Parker?” I called after him.
He reluctantly turned to face me. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah,” I said, walking closer. “I’m so sorry I left the way I did.”
“No problem,” he said, barely looking at me. A pretty big turnaround from his eager text on Thursday night.
“Are you okay?” I asked. While he was distant, I had the feeling he wasn’t upset with me. “You weren’t here on Friday.”
Except I was fairly sure he had been. Would he admit to hanging out in the basement?
“Yeah,” he said, already starting to drift away. “I must have caught whatever you had.”
That was an outright lie. If he’d caught something from me after our dinner, he’d likely be dead. I was tempted to press him on it, and to ask him why he’d my workplace with Special Agent Stone, but I didn’t get the chance. He was already heading back to his section.
I got coffee from the breakroom for Kristie and me, then called my doctor to make an appointment. They couldn’t fit me in until next week. I tried to get a sooner appointment with one of the other ob-gyn offices in town, but the wait at any of those other places would be months since I’d be seeing the doctor as a new patient.
Next week it was. Still, I wasn’t going to sit idle. I planned on looking up alternative treatments for hot flashes when Nikki wasn’t looking. I’d already started the day before, but other than a bunch of somewhat dubious herbal supplements, I’d come up with nothing.
“Are you sick?” Kristie asked.
“No,” I said. “Nothing like that. But I’ve had a few more hot flashes since Nikki’s party, so I thought it might be a good idea to get checked out.”
“Good idea,” she said as she took a sip of her coffee. “You’re the only one who’s ever brought me coffee. I need to keep you healthy so you’re here as long as possible.”
The rest of the morning was uneventful—especially since Nikki stayed holed up in her office—and I was in better spirits until midafternoon when I felt a now-familiar heat rising up in my chest. I fought the urge to sprint, and thankfully, I made it to the restroom before I felt it erupt. Turning on the cold water tap at one of the sinks, I held my hands under the stream and felt relief that I’d narrowly avoided another disaster. The water boiled within seconds, and the mirror fogged up as if it were a sauna. Steam filled the air as I walked out, and Eunice gave me a questioning look as I passed her on her way in.
“It was like that when I came in. Maybe Nikki’s next MLM is for do-it-yourself spa treatments.”
Eunice shook her head in disgust. Nikki made a great scapegoat. Everyone knew she was capable of just about anything.
Which she proved when she made me stay fifteen minutes late to finish up a report.
“After all the time I docked you last week, you should be grateful to me that you can make it up,” she said in a snide tone, and while she had a point, it was hard to be grateful for anything she “offered” with such condescension.
Still, I did need the money.
Jack had a home basketball game, so I raced home to pick up Elena before heading to the high school to cheer him on. Harriet was at dance, but she planned to meet us at the game later.
His team was winning by the third quarter. Elena had found some friends from school to hang out with, and I was sitting with a group of other team parents. The team had made a fifteen-point comeback since halftime, and Jack was one of the teammates who’d gotten them there. I was watching him drive the ball down to the home end when I caught sight of an older woman with short white hair standing on the other side of the court. I recognized her instantly.
Vee.
Was I hallucinating? She had to have some of the answers I was looking for, but what in the world was she doing here?
I shot to my feet and started scrambling down the bleachers.
“Darcie?” one of the mothers called after me. “Is everything okay? You look like your pants are on fire.”
For a moment, I thought she meant it literally. I turned around to check, pushing out a huge sigh of relief when I saw my J. Jill leggings were still very much intact, if not a little worn from constant use.
The mother laughed and I gave a goofy shrug, then turned my attention back to keeping Vee in sight while I tried not to trip down the stairs. I’d just reached the floor when her gaze shot to the spot where I’d been sitting moments before. Her eyes widened and darted around until they found me. The next moment she was heading for the exit, moving unnaturally fast considering her age.
Oh, hell no.
I headed out of the gymnasium on our side, then raced to the foyer that ran the length of the gym, searching for Vee.
She was already bolting out the door to the parking lot.
I exited out the nearest door and ran after her. “Vee!” I shouted. “Wait!”
She didn’t slow down; instead she ran to her car faster than I would have thought possible for a woman who had to be at least sixty. She’d just reached her car when I caught up, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. She wasn’t out of breath at all, of course.
I really needed to start using that gym membership.
“What…are you…doing here?” I wheezed out.
“Oh, hello,” she said, pretending to just now notice me. “How did those dresses work out?”
“Stop,” I said, not hiding my irritation. “I know you were watching me from the stands. And I know you don’t work for Macy’s. Who are you and what do you want with me?”
She shook her head, confusion filling her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was here watching the game, same as you.”
“You know someone on the team?” I asked.
A sad smile washed over her face. “My grandson.”
I squinted at her. “Who’s your grandson? I know most of the boys on the home team.”
“He plays for the other side,” she said. “Are you always so suspicious?”
“I am when someone is watching me.”
“Darcie,” she said patiently.
“You weren’t surprised by my hair or the marks on my back,” I said. “It was like you were looking for them. Then you said that phrase. ‘From the
ashes, she has risen.’ You know what’s happening to me.”
She started to protest, then said, “I do. But I should have let you be. This is part of the test.”
“What test?” I asked, but she was already starting to get in her car. I grabbed her arm, my fingers digging in. “What’s happening to me, Vee? I need to know! I need to stop this!”
Her eyes searched mine. “All in good time, Darcie.”
I heard a cry in the parking lot behind me. Something primal in me responded to it. Spinning around, I spotted Harriet two rows over pushing at a dark figure. The person grabbed her arm, dragging her toward a white cargo van with an open sliding door.
A now-familiar heat rose up in my chest, but this time it had a purpose. To protect my daughter.
I sprinted toward her, faster and more agile than I would have thought possible. The heat built in my chest, begging to be released. I ached to blast the fire at the person attacking my daughter, but some rational part of me knew it would kill him, and something deep inside me—my conscience—revolted against it. Besides which, he had his hands on Harriet. She could get burned too. I wouldn’t risk that.
Instead, I hurled the fire at the van. It would remove his easiest escape route, for one thing, and it might distract him enough for Harriet to get away.
I lifted my hands toward the van, now ten feet away, fire streaming from my palms like a flamethrower. Paint bubbled on the hood. Glass shattered. The interior ignited.
The flames from my hands abated, and I turned my attention to my daughter, relieved to see the dark figure—I could now see he was a man, although he had on dark clothes and a mask—had let her go and had backed up several feet.
“Harriet,” I shouted. “Run!”
She stared at me in horror, frozen in place.
“Harriet! Run!”
The man took off, glancing back at us, but even though I very much wanted to stop him, saving Harriet was more important. I was already running on instinct, racing toward my daughter and lowering my upper body like a football player. I threw her over my shoulder and darted toward the back of the parking lot.
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