Damned and Cursed | Book 10 | Fallen Skye

by Bullion, Glenn

  Jack glared at Victoria.

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t. You love me. Just like I love you.”

  He let out a deep, soulful sigh.

  “I know.”

  CHAPTER 9

  IT WAS NINE o’clock at night, and the questions from his wonderful daughter kept coming.

  “How long is she staying?”

  “Can she come to school with me?”

  “Can I introduce her to my friends?”

  “Is she going to be your girlfriend?”

  “Why does she keeping taking off her clothes?”

  “Is she okay? She looks so thin.”

  Victoria and Kevin were long gone. Jack had finished unpacking and worked in the kitchen. Tiffany and Skye were on the couch, mindlessly browsing channels. For the past few hours, Skye wouldn’t leave Tiffany’s side. So far, it was a great friendship. Tiffany loved to talk, and Skye loved to listen.

  He opened the freezer door.

  “Anyone want ice cream?”

  Tiffany couldn’t move fast enough, and immediately went into assistant mode. Jack and Tiffany moved with the precision of two people who served ice cream together many times. She retrieved the bowls and spoons, and the chocolate syrup and walnuts. Jack set two scoops of vanilla in each bowl, then slid it along to Tiffany. The assembly line was rolling. She sprinkled walnuts and poured the syrup.

  Skye reached out and grabbed his wrist. That was a gesture that was going to get very tiring, very quickly.

  “What?”

  She pointed at herself, then at the third bowl.

  “Yeah, we’re making you ice cream. You can count, right? Three bowls, three people.”

  She tried to sit next to Jack at the bar. He refused, instead pointing to the other side.

  “No, no. You sit over there.”

  “Jack,” Tiffany said, sitting next to her father. “Maybe she can’t count.”

  He watched her. His mind went to work, pulling out details, making logical leaps. She held a spoon perfectly. She’d used one before. Ice cream wasn’t a new thing, but it was never offered to her. She had to beg, steal, seek permission. Her looks and figure, what was left of it, were her keys to survival, her currency. Jack could see it when she looked at Kevin. She flirted with him, using body language, her smile, her hips. He was just too stupid to see it.

  “Where is Skye going to sleep? Can she sleep in my room?”

  Jack pondered while enjoying his ice cream. They had spare rooms, but they were empty. He’d need to buy furniture, definitely some clothes.

  “On the couch. Tomorrow, we’ll go out, get some stuff.”

  “We can get her Spongebob sheets!”

  He laughed quietly. There were two supernatural beings in his house, and a young girl. Somehow, Spongebob had weaseled into the conversation.

  “Sure, why not?”

  He pointed at Skye, then the couch.

  “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Understand?”

  Skye nodded and smiled.

  “Thank … ”

  Both Jack and Tiffany paused, watching her closely. Her mouth moved, and they waited for her to finish. The finish didn’t quite make it.

  “Thank. Thank.”

  Jack looked back to his bowl, with every intention to ignore her. But that wasn’t what Tiffany would do.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Tiffany reached out and took her hand.

  “Thank you. You.”

  “Oooo.”

  “Close enough.”

  Tiffany nudged Jack’s shoulder.

  “What kind of music do you think she likes?”

  “I don’t think she’s had a lot of time to really enjoy music. But we’ll try some Hendrix. Mix a little Elvis in there.”

  Tiffany’s nose wrinkled.

  “That’s all old stuff.”

  “Old stuff is the best.”

  “Old stuff is just … old.”

  They laughed, and Skye joined them.

  “How come my bracelet stopped glowing?” Tiffany asked. “Well, it still is. But it’s not red anymore. Only blue.”

  “Maybe it’s broken.”

  “You can’t break a bracelet.”

  “You can break anything, if you try hard enough.”

  Jack finished his dessert. Skye was already done, as was Tiffany, who was simply playing with her bowl. Skye sat with her hands neatly on the table, unmoving. A line of ice cream dribbled down her chin. Tiffany laughed and dabbed it with a napkin.

  “You’re so messy.”

  He gathered their bowls, then hesitated. As long as the witch was going to stay with them, he might as well get use out of her.

  “Hey,” he said, sliding the bowls toward her. “Put these in the sink.”

  She didn’t move, only looking between the bowls and Jack.

  “Bowls. Sink,” he said, pointing.

  She finally got it, unleashing that smile. She grabbed their dishes and crossed the kitchen. Jack was distracted a moment, keeping his back to her. He didn’t think he needed to be on full alert for putting away dirty dishes. He didn’t even realize what was happening until Tiffany gasped.

  “Wow!”

  He spun on the stool to see Skye at the sink, with the water running. She held her fingers under the faucet. The water turned blue as it left her skin, swirling down the drain.

  He leapt up. Moving her aside, he turned off the sink and grabbed a nearby towel to dry her hands. Skye was confused, hurt, as she stared at him.

  “Hey, Tiff,” Jack said. “Could you grab a spare blanket and pillow from upstairs? And some of my old clothes. Some sweatpants or something. Then you have to get ready for bed.”

  Tiffany nodded. Jack watched her face. His daughter wasn’t surprised at what she’d seen, wasn’t shocked. There was a slight hint of a smile as she moved up the steps.

  He turned to face Skye. She appeared on the verge of tears.

  “Listen to me,” he said, grabbing her hands. “No. Don’t do that, okay? No magic.”

  She backed up, turning her head. Her knees tried to wobble. He held her steady by the arms. He wouldn’t let her cower.

  “Tiffany doesn’t know,” he said, not sure entirely how true that was. “She doesn’t know about magic. Secret. Keep it a secret.”

  He wasn’t sure whether or not she understood, but Skye nodded regardless. He backed up when he heard Tiffany on the stairs behind them.

  “Skye,” she called. “Come try out this blanket and pillow. It’s not Spongebob, but it’s comfortable.”

  Jack watched with pride as Tiffany made up the couch. The girl was full of caring and compassion, more than he was ever capable. He hoped she never changed.

  Skye didn’t approach. Tiffany rolled her eyes as she crossed the space and grabbed Skye by the hand. She led the witch to the couch and ran her palm along the blanket.

  “You like it?”

  “Soft,” Skye said. “Thank.”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, Tiff. Bedtime.”

  Tiffany smiled.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You want to spend time alone with her, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “She is really pretty, isn’t she?”

  “If you’re attracted to stick figures, maybe.”

  “We probably shouldn’t talk about her. She’s right there.”

  “You started it.”

  “I’ll go upstairs and get cleaned up. Brush my teeth.”

  “You do that.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Give me a hug.”

  He hugged his daughter, then nearly protested when she turned and approached Skye, her arms wide. He wasn’t fond of her handing out hugs and affection to those who hadn’t earned it. It took everything he had to keep quiet when she hugged Kevin from time to time.

  “Goodnight, Skye. It was nice to meet you.”

  She hu
gged Skye around the waist. Skye looked up to Jack for approval, which was a good sign. Jack nodded, although he imagined his eyes spoke otherwise. Skye returned the hug gently, patting her on the shoulder. Tiffany bounced up the stairs like she always did, full of life and energy.

  Jack took a breath and poured himself a glass of water. Skye stood still by the couch, watching his every move. He retrieved his phone from the bar.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Skye didn’t move.

  “Come over here a second,” he repeated. “I need to take some pictures.”

  Jack was preparing his phone, launching the photo-taking app. He didn’t watch her approach, but saw her moving out of the corner of his eye.

  He didn’t know she was nude until he looked up.

  Her top was on the floor, next to the couch. She’d taken her last step out of the bottom half of her bikini.

  “Shit, Skye, what the hell?” he said. “Would you stop with the exhibitionist thing? This isn’t a nude beach.”

  Before he could grab her wrist, she’d already struck a pose against the bar. She tried to appear sexy, a hand on her hip as one foot rubbed the back of her leg. Her eyes told a different story.

  She’d associated Jack’s camera with nude photos. How many had been taken of her over her lifetime?

  “No,” he said. “I’m not taking pictures like that. Would you put your shit back on?”

  She posed again. Her head arched back, exposing her breasts.

  “Stop. For the love of all erections everywhere, just stop. These pictures, they’re … ” He decided it wasn’t worth it.

  Sighing, he browsed through the clothes Tiffany had gathered. He decided on a pair of sweatpants and a pink shirt of Tiffany’s that she’d picked out. The sweatpants would be too big, but sadly, the shirt would probably fit. He gathered both items and handed them to a confused Skye.

  “Put these on,” he said.

  She took the clothing. Slowly, she put the pieces together, and stepped into the sweatpants. The shirt was next. It was too small for her frame, but that was the current style, it seemed. It hugged her torso, hid the unsightly bones, showed off her midsection. She’d fit in at any dance club or party.

  “It’ll do,” he said, holding up the camera. “I still need pictures.”

  Skye again attempted a pose. She leaned over a stool at the bar, standing on the tips of her toes. Jack approached and maneuvered her like a puppet. He set her on the stool, placed her hands on her knees.

  “Finally,” he said, backing up. “Just pretend it’s picture day at school.”

  He took several shots at different angles. There was no need to search for unusual marks. He’d seen enough of her naked.

  He emailed the photos to one of his many contacts. Hopefully, he’d have information soon.

  “Damn, I love technology,” he said.

  She touched his wrist.

  “Would you stop touching me? Just keep your hands to yourself.”

  Skye pointed at her mouth, then her tongue.

  “What? You need a cough drop or something?”

  She made a motion with her hand, sweeping along her body and out her mouth. Was she sick? Did she need to vomit?

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to say. And, to be honest, I don’t really care.”

  She did the same gesture, more forcefully. Jack laughed.

  “Doing your little hand-wave harder doesn’t make the meaning clearer.”

  Her eyes fell on the bar. She retrieved a pad and pen that Tiffany had left behind, for schoolwork. She wrote quickly and turned the pad for Jack.

  There was nothing but a series of symbols, the language of the witch. Jack was curious. Could she read or write in any other language? The witch’s tongue came naturally. There was no study involved.

  “I can’t read that. And I’ve seen too much of Glinda for one day to call him and ask. So, this is a mystery that we’ll just have to lose sleep on. And, speaking of sleep … ”

  It had been over a week since Jack had slept a full night. He could use a solid eight hours. Was he comfortable sleeping with Skye in his home? Would he wake up to find she wasn’t house-trained, and made a mess all over his beautiful floor?

  He thought of the magical timepiece, just waiting for him, calling his name, teasing him like an old lover.

  “Okay, I’m off to bed. The bathroom’s just right there, if you have to puke or piss or whatever. Don’t break any of my—”

  Skye wasn’t listening.

  She moved about the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers. She was searching, gathering items. A bowl, some salt, flour, brown sugar. She turned on the sink, letting the water run. Her eyes darted everywhere before fixing on the living room. She approached the small bookshelf in the corner and ran a finger along his collection. Her hand stayed over a biography of the Marx Brothers.

  “Ah, so you actually have taste,” Jack said.

  She pulled the book and set it on the bar on the way back to the kitchen. Jack sighed as he witnessed a scene he’d experienced many times, but this time by another’s hands. A witch was making magic under his roof.

  Whatever she’d mixed in the bowl glowed orange after she stirred it with a finger. Placing her entire hand in the mixture, she swiped whatever magical concoction she’d made across the cover of his book.

  “What the hell? You’d better hope that dries.”

  Skye said nothing, didn’t even look at him. She opened the book to chapter one. If Jack had to guess, he’d say she was reading.

  “Whatever. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a fun day.”

  *****

  Confusion. Fatigue. Darkness. These things pulled at Jack, tried to move him from sleep. His familiar blanket shifted on top of him. His hyper senses tried to function, but the magical trinket that gifted him sleep fought against him. Was he dreaming? Where was he? Was he still in his bed? What century was it? The wonderful, ridiculous thoughts of the barely awake mind struggled with a body that didn’t want to move.

  He was in bed. His bed. That made sense, as it was his house. The blanket shifted again. Why? The windows were closed. There was no breeze. Was it a ghost? He’d certainly killed enough mortals in his lifetime. Did he need to call Demons LLC, and purchase the services of Alex Teague?

  His senses slowly returned. He wasn’t alone. A hint of a feminine scent, rather pleasant. A leg brushed up against his. A tender hand wrapped around his most personal of body parts, under his boxer shorts. He was already aroused, an unusual side effect of mortal sleep.

  The hand moved.

  “That’s it. Just relax.”

  Jack shot up in bed, his eyes wide open. The silhouette was to his right. Still expertly massaging him, she tried to throw her leg over his hips. He grabbed her thigh, holding her in place. She finally released her grip on him.

  “What’s wrong?” Skye asked.

  Her voice was light, full of air, with a hint of an accent. Exotic.

  “What’s wrong,” he repeated. “That’s a loaded question. Gee, where do I start? How about … why are you in my fucking bed, holding my dick?”

  “You don’t like it? Want me to use mouth instead?”

  “Christ. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You have wife? Girlfriend?”

  The magical trinket pulled at him once again, threatening to put him to sleep. He reached over and set the time to twelve o’clock, the method for quelling the magic. Then he turned on the lamp, throwing a soft glow across his bedroom.

  Skye lay on her side seductively. She’d removed her clothes once again. Jack rubbed his head in frustration, not even bothering to get out of bed. Skye rested a hand on his hip, which he didn’t move. Thoughts swirled through his mind regarding Victoria’s payment. A simple favor owed wasn’t good enough. Maybe he’d make her babysit the next time Tiffany invited her minions to sleepover.

  “So, you speak English.”

  “Always know a few words. Never nee
ded to speak. No one wanted me to. Not truly.”

  “And I have a very scary feeling that now, you’re never going to shut up.”

  “Masters, men who buy me. They don’t buy for words. They buy for skin. Status. Pleasure. For the rest of words, I use sorcery.”

  “Sorcery.”

  “Yes. Downstairs. I use things. I mix with book. It gives me words. I am a sorceress. Your friend. Kevin. He is a sorcerer.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. And not a very good one.”

  She slid up on her knees, running her hands along her sides. Her smile was bright, and despite the influx of vocabulary, still inviting.

  “Masters always take body. I give to you. Freely.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You don’t want?” she asked, frowning. “You help me. It is a gift.”

  “I’d rather you gift me a cheese steak sub.”

  “I … don’t understand.”

  “Are you going to slide your gift on over to Kevin, too?”

  “Maybe. And Victoria.”

  He laughed.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. At the same time? If so, make sure you film it.”

  She stared down at his boxers.

  “You’re getting soft. Too many words. I’ll help.”

  She reached for him once again. At long last, it was his turn to snatch her wrist, an inch before she made physical contact. She met his eyes.

  “I love me a good one-nighter,” he said. “But I’ll pass. My daughter is just down the hall.”

  She rested a hand on his knee, still persistent.

  “She’s not your daughter. Eyes, nose, cheeks. Everything different.”

  “Oh, then that just makes this perfectly okay. Let’s get this show started.”

  Skye smiled and shifted her leg to straddle him before hesitating.

  “Truly?”

  “No! Skye, look, just go downstairs and get some sleep.”

  “But I have to thank. Let me thank.”

  “You don’t have to fuck me to thank me.”

  He slid out of bed and circled to her side. He took her hand and helped her stand. She was confused, upset, disappointed. Jack had to wonder how her life was shaped, to think her body was her only method of gratitude.

  “Skye, it’s okay. Our deep friendship means more to me than a bed romp ever could.”