“Your fault?” I asked in horror. “How could this be your fault?”
“If I’d been paying better attention as I walked across the parking lot. If I’d tried to fight back more. He caught me by surprise and I—”
“You stop that right now,” I snapped.
Her eyes flew wide and she stared at me, openmouthed with shock in her eyes. I rarely spoke to them in harsh tones, so I knew she was caught off guard.
I was happy to have her attention.
“Harriet Nicole Weatherby, you listen to me and listen to me good,” I said in a stern voice. “This is not your fault.”
She got teary-eyed, and a couple of tears spilled over her lower lids.
“This is not your fault,” I said more insistently. “Did you ask that man to attack you?”
Her voice quavered. “No. But—”
I held up my hand. “Stop right there with the buts. Full stop. Don’t you dare take one iota of blame for this, because if you do, you’re taking some of the guilt that fully belongs to that man.” And whoever was behind it. “You’re minimizing what he did.”
She looked at me, speechless.
“I have no idea what he planned to do with you, Harriet.” A lump formed in my throat, and I struggled to push out the words. “Every time I let myself start to think about it…” My voice broke and I was dangerously close to breaking down. “Harriet, don’t you dare take on one tiny sliver of guilt. That man is bad. Very bad. And I will see that he pays for what he tried to do.” Protectiveness rose from the very center of my chest, seeping out through my arms and up to my head.
Harriet’s eyes flew wide. “Mom. Your hair.”
I turned to look in the mirror, shocked to see the blond tresses were now glowing orange red like molten lava. I reached up to touch one, not surprised to find it hot to the touch.
“Stay back, Harriet,” I said, lifting a hand and taking several steps away from her. While I hadn’t paused to look in the mirror during any of my other hot flashes, I felt safe in presuming this was a new development.
So much for the supplements helping.
“Mom, what’s happening?” Harriet cried.
“I don’t know,” I said, but that wasn’t entirely true. While I didn’t know how this would end, I knew I was transforming, a process that had started the night of the Super Sort and Seal party. But what was I becoming?
I was scared too. Terrified. This had ended badly for the women before me, so what made me think I could change my fate? The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of Harriet, but I couldn’t stop it from happening any more than I could change any of this. Tears swam in my eyes and streaked down my cheeks. Some sane part of me told me I should put distance between myself and Harriet—just in case—but I instinctively knew I wouldn’t hurt her.
“You caught that van on fire,” Harriet said, stating it as the fact it was. We hadn’t talked about this since I was released from the hospital, but we’d danced around it for days. It was almost a relief to discuss it openly. “Fire shot out of your hands.”
“Yes,” I said. The power had stopped growing, but it was still present. I knew I could tap into it at any time.
“You threw me over your shoulder and ran. You could barely pick up that fifty-pound bag of dirt at Lowe’s a few months ago.”
I gave her a soft smile. “Ever heard of an adrenaline boost?”
“No,” she said adamantly. “That’s not it and you know it.” Her chest heaved as she sucked in a deep breath. “What’s happening to you, Mom?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know for certain, but I’m trying my best to find out how to stop it.”
“Have you been to a doctor?”
“I have an appointment next week. That’s the soonest I could get in.”
Panic washed over her face. “Next week? That’s not soon enough. Maybe you should go to the ER.”
“I was at the ER,” I said with a sad smile. “Just the other night. I talked to the doctor, and he suggested some supplements that might help. I picked them up at the store.”
“Well, they clearly haven’t done anything.”
“Harriet, it’s going to be okay.” I had to believe it would be okay, because I refused to let the unthinkable happen. I refused to leave my children. Tears fell down my cheeks.
“You can’t keep crying,” she said as she started to laugh. “I’ll have to redo your makeup.”
I grabbed a tissue and dabbed my cheeks. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, brushing away her own tears, then grabbed the bottle of foundation. “I’ll just touch it up.” She squirted some on the back of her hand, then dabbed a sponge into the makeup and lifted it to my cheek. She was about to dab, then froze, her hand inches from my face. “Your bruise.”
I stared at her in confusion. “What about it?”
“It’s…” She grabbed the makeup mirror on the counter and handed it to me. “Look.”
I held up the mirror and examined my cheek. At first all I saw were the streaks through my makeup, but then I realized the skin under the streaks left by my tears was no longer bruised.
What the…?
My cheeks were still wet, so I put my fingertips on my cheekbone and smeared the tears over the purple, blue, and green discoloration. Within seconds the bruises started to fade. Even better, my headache vanished.
I’d been crying when I touched Jack’s chin.
I’d been crying when Heath had helped me to my feet.
My tears were the healing agent and the reason I hadn’t healed myself.
“My tears. It’s my tears that heal.”
“Cry some more, Mom.”
“I can’t cry on command!” I protested.
Harriet grabbed my arm and gave it a vicious pinch.
“Ouch! What was that for?” I demanded, rubbing my arm.
“I’m trying to help you cry!”
I started laughing and she looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“This isn’t funny, Mom.”
“I know.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I knew it was my mind’s way of coping with stress, but I couldn’t help wondering—could I use my tears to save myself when the time came for me to burn up?
My laughter had produced more tears, so I collected them on my fingertips and swiped them on my shoulder and upper back. The deep ache in my muscles began to ease, and the bruises began to lighten.
“How is that happening?” Harriet asked in awe.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but let’s not tell anyone until we understand the ramifications. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my forty-two years, it’s that everything has a price. What’s the price for this?”
She nodded. “Okay, but something huge is happening to you.”
“I say we table this until tomorrow,” I said. “Parker’s supposed to be here in twenty minutes, and I still haven’t gotten dressed or figured out what to do with my hair.”
“It’s a masquerade, right?” she said. “Wear it down—then no one will know it’s you. You’re almost entirely blond now.”
I laughed. “This isn’t one of those Cinderella Story movies. People aren’t really that easily fooled.”
“Still, seems like a good occasion to debut your new look.”
She had a point, plus putting my hair into a French twist wouldn’t hide anything. There was only one dark streak left at the nape of my neck. “But I can’t just wear it like I always do. It’s too casual.”
“I’ll plug in the curling iron, and we’ll give you some beach waves. I think we have time.”
She quickly fixed my face, and then I put on the dress, thankful that it had a built-in bra since the dress was backless.
“Mom,” Harriet gasped when she saw my back. “You have wings.”
I turned my back to the mirror and gasped myself when I saw the markings. Where once they’d only been black, they’d been shaded in with various shades of orange and red. They looked like they were folde
d up, waiting to be unfurled and take flight. They looked real.
“Mom…” The fear in her voice was palpable.
“It’s okay,” I assured her even though I wasn’t feeling assured. “But maybe I should wear something else.”
“You don’t have anything else,” she protested. “And while I admit they scare me, they look really great with your dress.”
“Can you imagine what your grandma’s going to say when she sees them? And my hair?”
She grinned and pointed to the mask on the bathroom counter. Harriet had rejected all of the ones I’d brought home from my shopping trip with Cyn and ordered this one online. She had it overnighted, and it was delivered just this morning. It was gold filigree and swooped to one side with a feathery look. “She’ll never know it’s you.”
By the time the doorbell rang at seven forty-five, Harriet had finished with my hair and securely tied on the mask. The cutouts in the mask gave it a lacy look, plus they made it lighter and less confining. I ran hotter than I used to, so I was happy that I wasn’t wearing something tight and constricting. I definitely didn’t want my makeup dripping off my face.
“Mom,” Jack called out. “Your date is here.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
Harriet and I walked out to the family room. Parker was standing next to Jack, who was giving my date a menacing glare.
Parker looked good—no, great—in his black tux, white shirt, and black bow tie. His shiny black shoes completed the ensemble, but I saw him through different eyes after my conversation with Heath. Parker had only been using me.
His mouth dropped open when he saw me. “Darcie…you look amazing.”
Elena walked over to Jack, and he wrapped his hand around her shoulders, holding her close. She studied me with trepidation. “You don’t look like you.”
“It’s called dressing up,” Harriet said with a frown. “And her date is right. She does look beautiful. Don’t you think?”
Elena nodded, but she looked so forlorn that I nearly called the whole thing off. I’d only agreed to go through with this because Heath had promised to help me find Vee, but other than a few leads that had gone nowhere, he’d come up with nothing.
We’d exchanged several texts since our last call, but most of his messages were questions about my hot flash episodes. Still, we’d had a few exchanges that bordered on personal. He’d asked me how the kids were doing after the attack, and offered a recommendation for a therapist if I thought it would benefit Harriet—or me—to talk to one. I’d asked about his day once, and he’d told me that he’d love nothing more than to go out for a nice steak dinner, a few drinks, and my lovely company.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he genuinely interested, or was he like Parker, stringing me along to get what he wanted?
I’d suggested that we table his invitation until after the ball.
Ella hadn’t come up with much either. She had found someone at Macy’s who remembered seeing Vee the night Harriet and I were there, but the witness had never seen her before or since.
It was as though Vee didn’t exist.
But considering how fast I seemed to be changing, maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe we didn’t have time to find her. I needed to use what little I had left to learn more about my abilities so I could keep myself alive. In the meantime, I might as well help stop Parker if he was up to something nefarious. And, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think of that weird energy I’d felt in the basement of Lisman and Freud. Something from the exhibit had drawn me in, and I really, really wanted to see it. Tonight, I hoped I would.
“I won’t be out late,” I said, approaching Elena and pulling her into a hug.
“I don’t want you to go, Mommy.” She tugged my face down to hers and whispered, “I think something bad is going to happen.”
“Everything is going to be fine,” I lied. “Don’t wait up. I’ll see you in the morning.” While I was sure I was about to walk into a shit show, I would be here when my daughter woke up. Never underestimate the determination of a mother.
I grabbed my coat and purse, and then Parker and I headed out of the house and down the driveway to his car. He opened the door, and when I looked back at him, his gaze was on my hair and face. Despite everything, there was genuine admiration there.
“Your hair…you dyed it. It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I said, forcing a smile. I was too nervous to fully bask in his compliment, even if he’d meant it. I wondered how long I’d need to stay with him at the party…probably not long. Heath hadn’t said I had to hang out with him. Only that I had to be there. Obviously, Heath thought Parker had grand plans for the night, but what?
I couldn’t help wondering what Parker was wrapped up in. The exhibit had been in the basement for months—if he’d wanted to steal something from it, surely it would have been easier while it was still in-house. Despite what the sales team pushed, Lisman and Freud wasn’t exactly the most secure place in town, let alone the world.
On second thought, maybe I’d stick around Parker and find out.
He kept trying to make small talk on the way to the fundraiser, but I was too pissed and nervous to be an active participant.
The art museum had valet parking, so Parker pulled up to the curb and handed the keys to the valet on his way to my car door—but before he could get there, I was out and walking toward the entrance.
“Darcie,” he called after me. “Wait up.”
It was either wait for him now or at the door, so I slowed my pace and let him catch up.
“Sorry,” I said when he fell into step beside me. “It’s cold.” It was a fabricated excuse. The wind was biting, but I wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt nice. That didn’t bode well.
“Of course,” he said, placing his hand at the small of my back and ushering me toward the entrance. It took everything in me to not pull away.
There were two couples in line in front of us. Parker didn’t wear a coat over his tux, so he stomped his feet while we waited, leaning in closer under the pretense of keeping me warm. When we reached the man with the clipboard at the door, he said in a dry tone, “Invitation please.”
“I don’t have an invitation,” I said. “But my mother, Gertrude Tinsley, said I’d be on the list.”
His eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, Ms. Weatherby. Your mother said you’d be attending with a guest. Go right in.”
We walked into the large marble foyer, and I dropped my coat off at the coat room. I stuck the ticket in my small handbag, and we headed into the reception.
As Parker and I made our way to a table, he asked, “Where’s your mother?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe we should go tell her hello,” he said, looking around.
“She’s busy greeting guests,” I said, suspicious of his interest. What did my mother have to do with his plan? While Heath had admitted he was investigating Parker in something having to do with the exhibit, I still had no real idea what they were up to. I’d pretty much ruled out theft as a possibility. If Parker were going to steal the artifacts, he’d have to have been the worst thief in the world to wait until the artifacts were in a public place, rather than absconding with them from the less-than-secure basement of Lisman and Freud. But one thing was certain—I was in no hurry to introduce Parker to my mother. “We need to wait until the ball is underway. I’m sure she’s busy.”
Disappointment washed over his face.
“How about I go get us drinks?” he asked, still looking around the room.
“Sure,” I said, eager to have a break from him. “I’d like a glass of white wine.”
As Parker went off to get us drinks, I let my gaze scan the room. The ball was set up in the middle of the floor, where there was a large circular opening that cut to the top of the three-story-high building. At the end of the hall was a large marble staircase that led to the next floor, and a small orchestra was situated to the right side, playing classical music tha
t echoed through the cavernous space. Artwork was hung on the walls, only slightly more impressive than the elaborate ironwork of the balconies stretching the length of the two floors above. It was obvious Perry had spared no expense in its construction, and while I wasn’t upset that he’d been chased out of town—he had kind of deserved it for not keeping it in his pants—it seemed a bit harsh that he’d never seen his multimillion-dollar project again.
A faint pulse thrummed through my head—a muted version of what I’d felt in the basement of Lisman and Freud—and I knew whatever relic I’d reacted to there had been moved to the museum. And it was important somehow.
“Darcie,” Ella said, sliding in next to me wearing a floral dress with a boatneck, three-quarter-length sleeves, and a full skirt. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Your hair…” Her voice trailed off, and it struck me that her eyes were droopy and her mask was lopsided.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said in irritation. “Old news.” I reached up to straighten her mask. “We need to figure out how my family curse plays into this exhibit. There’s some connection, and I think it might have something to do with James Perry.” I knew Mayor Harless was also connected, but I figured we should start with my family.
She pursed her lips and slumped to the side. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Shouldn’t she know? She lived here, and she was an investigative reporter, not the type who wouldn’t be up to date with the town lore. Besides, I was fairly certain no one could live in Perry’s Fall without hearing some of the stories.
She started to fall over and I grabbed her upper arm to keep her from toppling over. “He was the guy who built this museum. Perry’s Fall.”
“Oh…that’s right.”
“What’s up with you?” I asked, looking her up and down. “You seem out of it.” Oh my. Was she drunk?
“I had an allergic reaction to the shellfish I had at dinner,” she slurred, “and I took some Benadryl about ten minutes ago.”
So I probably couldn’t count on help from Ella tonight, but I was going to try anyway. “Ella, I need you to focus. How can we find out if my relatives had anything to do with Perry?”
Let it All Burn: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (From the Ashes Book 1) Page 21