Damned and Cursed | Book 10 | Fallen Skye
Page 14
Her eyes lit up.
“Friends?”
“Oh, no,” he said, regretting his sarcasm. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean it. You’re an acquaintance at best, an inconvenient chore at worst.”
“Too many words.”
“Yeah. I’m just a chatterbox. Well, let’s fix that. Go downstairs and go to bed.”
He opened the door for her, easing her with a hand on her back. Peering down the hallway, he was glad to see Skye’s antics didn’t wake Tiffany. Her bedroom light was still off, her door closed.
“And would you get some damn clothes on—”
She turned in place and threw her body against his. Her arms went around his neck. He thought it was another move of hers, an attempt at gratitude. But she didn’t jump into his arms, didn’t wrap her legs around his hips.
“Just a hug,” he said, sighing in relief and frustration. Her breasts pressed against his chest. He could feel her ribs. “I’m not sure what Victoria and Glinda told you about me. But I’m not a hugger.”
“You are a good man.”
“And I know they didn’t say that.”
“I owe you. I’ll find a way to thank.”
“All you owe me is three hours sleep.”
“I will go downstairs. Sleep on the couch.”
“That’s a great place to start.”
Skye left toward the stairs. Jack allowed himself the small pleasure of watching her leave. She gave him one last glance over her shoulder before descending. Her smile was warm, genuine.
He climbed back into bed and once again fell under a magic-induced cocoon of sleep.
CHAPTER 10
THE MAGICAL TIMEPIECE struck its last minute, and Jack awoke from a wonderful dream. It tried to slip away, and he nearly lunged for his journal he kept on the nightstand. The dream was sexual, no doubt fueled from Skye’s visit to his bedroom only a few hours ago. The location was in a warped version of his house. He couldn’t remember with who. Was it Marie? The dream faded before he could scribble the rest of the details.
It was seven in the morning. Wide awake, he threw open the bedroom door and scanned the hallway. Tiffany’s door was already open, her bed made. He headed for the bathroom, stopping at the top of the stairs first.
“Tiffany? Are you alive?”
“Yeah. I’m watching a movie.”
“Is Skye down there?”
“In the kitchen. She’s talking now. But a little weird.”
“So I heard. Is she wearing clothes?”
“Uh, kind of. She’s wearing my shirt. I didn’t know I brought it down.”
“How about pants?”
“Yeah. They’re too big.”
“I’m hitting the shower. Can you make sure she doesn’t blow our house up?”
“Okay.”
Another normal conversation in the life of Jack Kursed.
He enjoyed the hot water as it rained over him. He enjoyed the routine. For so long, there wasn’t one. Without sleep, time had no meaning. The day came, then gave way to night. But Jack didn’t feel it. His body never felt different from one moment to the next, from one year to the next. Tiffany had changed all that. School, summer vacation plans, violin classes, sleepovers, breakfast, lunch, dinner. There was always something to do.
His daughter had given him meaning.
If he had to admit it, the magical timepiece was also a nice addition to his life.
He was only halfway done when he heard his name.
“Jack? Dad?”
He stopped the water for a moment. He answered, but Tiffany didn’t hear. Leaving the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and poked his head into the hallway.
“Tiff? What’s up?”
“You’d better come downstairs.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Uh … come downstairs.”
Grumbling, he dried and slid on underwear and a pair of shorts. He didn’t bother with a shirt. Marching to the stairs, his temper flared when he heard the familiar sounds of cooking in the kitchen. His kitchen. Grease spitting, pans being shuffled. Was Kevin back, violating his home once again?
He rounded the bottom of the stairs and froze.
Only Skye was in the kitchen. She’d spaced out three plates on the counter next to the stove, and was working. The oven was on, two burners on the stove rolling. Her shyness had faded, at least for the moment. She had a youthful, energetic appearance.
“Jack!” she said, waving her hands at the plates. “Breakfast!”
Skye’s idea of breakfast brought a smile.
One pan contained onions and green peppers, the other chopped steak. Two subs were already made, and she was working on the third. For a side, fries were baking in the oven.
“Cheese steak!” Skye called.
“This is weird,” Tiffany said.
“Yes, it is. And it also smells delicious.”
“We’re going to eat cheese steak subs for breakfast?”
“Why the hell not?”
“Can … I have ice cream after?”
“You’re goddamn right you can.”
Tiffany smiled.
The three ate at the bar. Johnny Cash echoed through the living room. Jack and Tiffany ate and relaxed, laughed and talked. Skye was quiet. She ate fast, as if the food would be yanked away at any moment. The sight bothered Jack, almost ruining his own meal. He grabbed her wrist as she tried to eat a fry.
“Would you cool it? This isn’t a race. You’re freaking me out.”
She willed herself to slow down, moving a strand of hair from her eyes.
“Sorry. I eat quick. Don’t eat fast, and might not have food.”
“Where did you learn to make a cheese steak?”
Skye glanced at Tiffany. Jack could see her choosing her words carefully.
“Some want woman who cook. Others want … more.”
“Well, this is good. It isn’t great. I could do better. But it’s better than anything Glinda could come up with.”
“Glinda?”
“Kevin.”
“Dad calls Kevin Glinda,” Tiffany explained. “Like how you give a special name to a friend.”
“We’re not friends.”
“So,” Skye said. “After breakfast, what do you want me to do?”
“Maybe clean the house. Wash our laundry.”
“Jack,” Tiffany said. “She’s a guest. She can’t do that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Shit. Eh, whatever. But we do need to get you some clothes. Some things for your bedroom.”
Tiffany’s eyes lit up.
“We’re going out?”
Jack felt his spirit wane. He loved being with Tiffany, but unleashing her at a store was sometimes worse than any supernatural threat.
“Yeah.”
“Awesome! Can I get some clothes, too? I’m going to check out my dresser. I’ll be right back. Don’t eat my sub.”
Off Tiffany went. Jack was content to eat in silence, but Skye had other ideas. She lowered her head and whispered.
“Tiffany doesn’t know? About sorcery?”
“She knows parts,” he said. “But I’ve never sat down with her, explained everything. So, keep your sorcery to yourself.”
She nodded and frowned in anger.
“My old master. He knew. The only one that knew. He … stole my sorcery.”
“Victoria and Glinda told me.”
Silence passed. The only sounds were of Tiffany rummaging through clothes upstairs. Skye was lost in her thoughts. Jack was lost in his breakfast.
“Am I truly free?”
“You can walk out that door right now, for all I care. I’m just watching you as a favor for Victoria. What is your real name, anyway?”
“Skye.”
Jack shook his head.
“Victoria and you. You two are friends?”
“She’s my best friend.”
“What do I do now? Being free is new
.”
“I think you should start a band.”
“You joke. I don’t know—”
“Skye, let’s take one thing at a time. Let’s start with finishing breakfast. Then we’ll shower. Can you shower? You know, soap, shampoo, towels, the real challenging stuff. Then we’ll shop.”
“We’ll shower? You and me? Together?”
He rubbed his forehead in frustration.
*****
Jack locked the door behind him as the trio left the house. Tiffany was more than ready to go. She had her phone prepared, with ideas for clothes she wanted stored in website favorites, and a list of general items she needed. Jack chopped up an old pair of jeans for Skye, and she wore another of Tiffany’s old shirts. The look suited her. They walked ahead, heading for the truck. Tiffany had already appointed herself Skye’s guide, and promised her she wouldn’t steer her wrong regarding fashion.
“I’ll ride in the back!” Tiffany called.
“Tiff, you can’t ride in the truck's bed.”
“But there’s no room for three people.”
“There’s plenty of room. We’ve fit three people plenty of times.”
“But I’ve grown since then.”
“Well, we’re lucky Skye is the size of a shadow. We’ll be fine.”
“I call shotgun.”
Skye waited patiently on the sidewalk. She frowned as Jack approached and circled the truck.
“You have a shotgun?” she asked.
He ignored her.
Skye slid next to him, uncomfortably close. Their thighs touched, a feeling Jack didn’t like. Thoughts of a newer, roomier truck flashed through his mind. The engine was running for two seconds before the change of plans started. It was one of the many joys of having a young daughter.
“Where are we going?”
“To the mall.”
“Let’s go the boardwalk. Then we can hit the beach.”
“I don’t think the clothes we need for Skye we’ll find at the boardwalk.”
“What do you mean? There are tons of clothes there.”
“Yeah. Bikinis, swimwear, shirts four sizes too small. It’s a body-shaming paradise.”
“We could get hot dogs and fries.” She nudged Skye on the shoulder. “Do you like hot dogs?”
“You just had a cheese steak and fries. And ice cream.”
“I know. But by the time we get done shopping, it’ll be lunch.”
“Shit, I hope not.”
“Dad, come on. When was the last time we went to the boardwalk?”
“Not long enough ago. We need more crap than clothes. We also need a bed. A frame and mattress.”
“We can go to the boardwalk and the mall. We’ll make a day out of it.”
Jack’s long life flashed before his eyes. An entire day of shopping. With two women.
Out came the puppy-dog face.
“Please!”
He gripped the wheel tighter.
“How?” he said. “How does this keep happening?”
Tiffany laughed.
“I love you, Jack.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Buckle up.”
The drive was a short one. Even in the morning, the boardwalk had its share of people. Tourist season was around the corner. Mortals were already setting up on the beach. Volleyball, sunbathers, swimmers, the ridiculous treasure-hunters. Jack’s mood started off sour, as always, but just the same, Tiffany lifted him out of it. Her mood and energy always affected him. The very first shop they stopped at, she grabbed Skye’s hand and whisked her away.
The poor witch didn’t know what hit her.
Jack kept his distance, both enjoying the time alone and studying Skye. He realized she’d never been to a beach before. As soon as they parked, her eyes were saucers. She gasped at the sight of the ocean, the waves rolling in. The heat didn’t bother her at all. It was a safe guess with the life forced on her, the sun was nothing. Her face was pure confusion as she struggled to keep up with Tiffany. They browsed shirts, shorts, various accessories he knew nothing about. Tiffany held various garments up to Skye’s frame, discarding ones she didn’t like. Jack read their lips from across the store.
“This one is no good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. The colors. Blah.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. I’m smart.”
Jack laughed.
“This looks good. Keep this. We’ll get you a few shirts, then some for me.” Tiffany lowered her voice. “Maybe we’ll get a few for Jack, too. We’ll take some pictures later. You’ll look great. Just trust me.”
“I … trust you.”
He wondered how difficult that was to say.
“We’ll paint your nails, maybe get some sandals. We’re going to have so much fun.”
Skye’s body language said it all. She wanted to vanish, disappear.
“So many people here.”
“This is nothing. Wait until later. The beach will be full of people. Maybe we’ll go for a swim.”
“I can’t swim.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Never needed to.”
“You showed up at the house yesterday in a swimsuit. But you can’t swim?”
“The feeling of clothes. I don’t like.”
“That’s because you didn’t have someone like me picking them out.”
Jack shook his head. His daughter was too much.
“Okay, this is a good start. Let’s buy these. Then we’ll check out the next store.”
“How many stores are here?”
“A lot.”
Jack sighed. He had a feeling they’d be visiting quite a few of them.
The morning stretched. Jack was content to kill time, watch the sights, as they shopped. They had relegated him to the role of bag carrier. True to her word, Tiffany’s choices for Skye’s wardrobe were spot-on. The witch could finally walk around in something other than a bikini. He stood near the entrance to another store, watching a group of mortals clumsily playing football in the sand, when Tiffany and Skye tried to drag him into their mess.
“Jack!” Tiffany called.
He turned to see them approaching, carrying several swimsuits. The hairs on the back of his neck went up.
“Skye has never been swimming. We need to get her a new swimsuit.”
“That doesn’t involve me.”
“We need to know which one looks better. From a boy’s point of view.”
“I don’t really care.”
“Come on. Skye is going to try these on. You can say which is your favorite.”
“They’ll all look terrible on her.”
They both frowned.
“Dad—”
His phone rang, saving him a slice of sanity.
“Ah, sorry. Work calls. Ask the cashier there. I’m sure he’d love to stare at Skye for ten minutes.”
The two turned to walk away, disappointed. Jack answered his phone, but hesitated before speaking. He rolled his eyes.
“Skye.”
She spun in place.
“That dark green one there, that Tiffany’s holding,” he said, pointing. “The one-piece. That’s the one you want. Stay away from showing off your skeleton for now.”
That was enough for a pair of smiles. They disappeared back into the store as Jack approached the beach, keeping the storefront within sight. He didn’t need to ask who was on the phone. He was only expecting one call.
“Mattie,” he said, knowing he hated being called that. “What do you have for me?”
“Hey, Jack. I hate to say it, but I got nothing.”
Surprise took hold. He paused a moment, almost thinking it was a joke.
“Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I sent you fifty photos, from every angle. You’ve found more with less. You found Jimmy Hoffa, twice, after they moved the body. There’s a reason I go to you first, pay you a lot of money.”
“I know.”
>
“So, what are you saying? You can’t find anything out there on her at all?”
“We’ve got no birthmarks, no scars of any kind. You don’t even know what language she speaks?”
“Well, she’s talking now. But trust me, she’s not saying anything useful. Or even interesting.”
“I’ve never seen anyone plainer in my life.”
Jack watched Skye in the store. She danced with Tiffany in front of a mirror, acting like a complete idiot.
“There’s nothing plain about her.”
“Look, I can give you guesses. That’s about it.”
“I’m listening.”
“The complete lack of anything makes me think this has been her entire life. You said you think she’s a part of some trafficking thing? I’d say she was sold as a child. Maybe even a baby. Probably never learned to speak at all. Never been inside a school. But something about that bugs me.”
“What’s that?”
“This is going to sound bad. I hope you’re not squeamish.”
“I’ll try to compose myself.”
“There’s no scarring. Not a mark on her. A lifetime of abuse, there’d be some scars.”
A witch never had to worry about scarring, at least not physically.
Mentally was another story.
“Keep working on it,” he said. “I’ll send more pictures when I can.”
“Sure. But I can’t promise anything. You’ve got a real mystery on your hands.”
He crossed the boardwalk and reentered the store just in time to see Tiffany and Skye slapping another pile of clothes in front of the cashier. Skye almost looked embarrassed as she surveyed the selection of shorts and tops, with a pair of sandals rounding out the trip.
“Too many clothes,” she said.
“Not enough clothes,” Tiffany countered. “Okay, Dad, we’re ready to go.”
“Are you sure? I think you missed a shelf somewhere you didn’t scavenge.”
She placed her hands on her hips, sticking out her jaw.
“Dad,” she said, stretching the word.
“Okay, okay.”
Jack paid the cashier and turned to leave. He didn’t know what the next stop was, but soon they’d have to go to the truck. Their haul was almost too much to carry.
He frowned when he realized Tiffany and Skye weren’t following. Turning back to the store, he watched Skye carry an armful of items to the back and disappear into a changing booth.