by J. R. Rain
His aura, like that of Tara and old Cal, rippled with a dark thread-like energy. Except in Edwin, the darkness was more evident. I had assumed the darkness was a result of grief...now, I wasn’t sure what to think.
“Why do you keep smiling like that?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m just a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. Made even happier now that you’re here.”
My inner alarm blared loudly. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing. We just so rarely get visitors here on our little island.”
“I’m beginning to see why,” I said, and found myself inching away from him.
He laughed. “Yes, we are an odd lot. Not exactly your typical family. And like most families, we have our hidden demons.”
His words hit home. “You’re one of them.”
The young man continued grinning bizarrely. “One of whom, Samantha Moon?” He used my full name.
“You’re a Dark Master,” I said, using the term for the thing that lived in me, the thing that had mastered immortality, the thing that lived on through me using the darkest of magicks.
“Dark Master? I like that. I’m very flattered, Sam.”
He flashed me another crazy smile, and now I saw something else within him. Something human. It was in his eyes, and it made a brief appearance. I saw the young man. The real Edwin Thurman. Hidden. Pushed aside. Suffocated. But as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared again, like flotsam rising briefly to the ocean surface, only to be sucked under the dark waters again.
Edwin—or whoever was before me—stepped around me, clasping his hands behind his back. I got a very powerful psychic hit, and one that I knew was true.
“You’re not like the others,” I said.
He glanced at me, arching an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell?”
“You are, if I’m correct, permanently present. You’re not hidden in the background, not like the others, not like the thing within me.”
“Not a thing, Sam.” His annoyance surprised me. He paused, held my gaze, and added, “My sister.”
I gasped and backed away some more.
“And I’m not saying that metaphorically, Samantha Moon. Residing within you is my sister, and someday soon—very, very soon—she and I will be together again.”
Chapter Nineteen
A low fog hung over the dark ocean.
The particles of light that only I could see seemed to disappear into the fog, to be absorbed by the mist. I might have gained a lot of gifts since becoming the thing that I am, but one of them, apparently, was not the ability to see into fog.
I was sitting at the edge of a small cliff. Waves crashed thirty feet or so below. Some of the spray reached me, sprinkling my skin and lips. I didn’t lick my lips. Even salt spray would upset my stomach.
The path from the house was a well-maintained one, as I suspected this cliff side retreat was a favorite hangout for the family. During the daytime, I was sure one could see for miles and miles. Now, not so much, even to my eyes.
To say that the conversation with Edwin had shaken me was an understatement.
His sister?
Obviously, not a Thurman sister, for I hadn’t been talking to the real Edwin Thurman. No, I had been talking to something ancient and evil. Another dark master who sought entry back into our world.
And not just any dark master, I suspected.
No, he didn’t have to hide in the shadows of the living, like that which had entered Kingsley and me...and now Fang. No, whoever he was, he had taken over the real Edwin Thurman—completely and totally.
Who he was, I didn’t know. But he was powerful.
Perhaps even the most powerful of all.
And his sister was in me.
Jesus.
I suddenly wished I wasn’t sitting on the cliff’s edge, in the cold and rain and wind, but sleeping with my kids, one on either side of me, their warm bodies giving me warmth in return. I could almost smell Tammy’s hair. I could almost even smell Anthony’s stinky feet.
As the wind and rain picked up, drenching me to the bone, I did the only thing this middle-aged divorcée mother of two could do:
I took off my clothes.
And stepped to the edge of the cliff.
I summoned the single flame in my thoughts.
Held it.
Saw the image of the beast.
The beast I would become.
And then I leaped out as far and wide as I could, arching up and over the pounding surf.
The transformation was instant, taking hold of me before I plunged into the rocks below.
I was soon flying. High above the island. High above the fog. High above, even, the snoring Allison.
It was up here where I found my sanctuary, my peace, my escape. I was all too aware that it was the thing that lived within me that gave me this very ability. The thing I could never escape.
We’ll see, I thought, and began flapping my wings.
Chapter Twenty
Allison and I were sitting together at breakfast.
I’d managed about three hours of sleep before Allison literally woke me from the dead. Now, we sat with the other Thurmans—or a few of them at least—on a wide balcony that overlooked the grounds. As Allison ate and I drank water, I caught her up to speed on the night’s events. When I was finished, I said, “Your mouth’s hanging open.”
“It tends to do that when I’m shocked shitless.”
I shushed her. Although we were alone at our little patio table, there were still other Thurmans eating nearby. The morning had been shockingly clear and warm, so much so that breakfast had been served outside. There was a nearby table filled with heaps of eggs and breakfast meats and pancakes. Someone had cooked up a storm. Many nodded at us as we sat and talked. Noticeably absent was Edwin Thurman and our hostess, Tara.
“And where is the man of the hour?” asked Allison. She was, of course, talking about Edwin.
“In his room,” I said.
“You mean, the basement?”
“Right,” I said.
“And you know this how?”
“I’ve got mad skills,” I said. Although Allison was a close friend, she was still a new friend. She didn’t know the extent of what I could do. Truth was, I didn’t know the extent of what I could do either. So, for an explanation, I gave her a glimpse now into my memory, showing her what I’d done—and what I had seen.
She blinked after a moment. “You can remote sense?”
“I guess so, yes.”
“Geez, the government’s been training psychics for decades trying to get them to do what you can do.”
“Well, I can’t see very far, maybe only a few hundred feet or so.”
“Far enough. I saw the image of him lying there on his little cot, sleeping. Very clear image. Very precise.”
“Very weird,” I said.
“Well, weird or not, it’s helpful...and why the hell is he lying on a cot, in the basement, in this beautiful home?”
“Maybe they ran out of beds,” I said.
“Or maybe it’s because he’s a vampire.”
I shook my head and lowered my voice. “No. Not a vampire. He’s something else. He’s different.”
“Different, how?”
“Greater. More powerful.”
She caught the meaning of my words and also caught my own vaguely formulated thought. “Sam,” she said. “Do you really think he might be the greatest of them all?”
Allison and I had previously discussed the thing that resides in me. She understood that it was this thing that fueled me and gave me eternal life. She understood that this thing needed to be fed, and blood was its choice. She understood that the powers within it emanated out to me, making me stronger and stronger.
I said, “I don’t know yet. I don’t know much about these entities. I don’t know why they’ve been banished, and why they want back in. I don’t understand the kind of magicks needed to give them access to me, and to live within me forever.”
<
br /> “But you think the thing that lives in Edwin Thurman might be the strongest of them all.”
“That’s what my gut is telling me.”
She snorted. “Well, I can tell you one thing: I can tell you who’s high on my suspect list of who killed George Thurman.”
“We don’t know if he killed him,” I said.
“Well, he certainly sounds like he’s got it in for you, Sam. Did he really say his sister is inside you?”
“Yes.”
“God, you vampires are weird.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what’s the game plan, Sammie? Other than me keeping you alive.”
“You keeping me alive?”
“Someone’s got to, kiddo. My sensitivities may not be as strong as yours, but I am getting a very, very strong feeling that not all is as it seems on Skull Island.”
“Very melodramatic,” I said.
“And very real.”
My cell phone went off. I looked down at it: Danny. The ex. Allison saw it, too.
“You going to answer?” she asked.
“No.”
It rang again. I drummed my fingers.
“Fine,” I said irritably, and clicked on.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Sam, I want to see the kids more often.”
“Why?”
“Because I love them.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re my kids, goddamn it.”
“Sorry, but I’m going to need more than that.”
“Sam, I’m warning you.”
“Or what?”
“Jesus, Sam. All I’m asking is for you to let me see my kids—our kids—a little more. I only see them, what, every other week for a few hours. Supervised.”
“You also happen to own a sleazy strip club and date even sleazier strippers.”
“Hey,” said Allison, looking up from her smart phone. “I used to be a stripper.”
I covered the mouthpiece and lowered my voice. “Were you sleazy?”
“Sleazy, no. Good, yes.”
I rolled my eyes and uncovered the phone. “So, you see my point, then,” I said to Danny.
“I see that you’re a controlling bitch.”
“As always, nice talking to you, Danny.”
“Wait, wait!” he screeched as I made a move to hang up. “Don’t hang up. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t hang up, but I didn’t say anything either. I looked out across the outdoor deck. So beautiful. This could have been a resort.
“You there, Sam?”
“I’m here.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, I did, but it’s only because you’re being a little unreasonable.”
“Danny, I’m going to say this with all the sincerity I can. I really don’t give a shit what you think about me, but I do know one thing, and one thing only: until you sell that sleazebag of a strip club you own and quit bringing your skank-whores home, you will never, ever be alone with my kids.”
Someone from a nearby table looked over at me. Oops. I might have raised my voice a little.
“You can’t tell me when I can or cannot see my kids.”
“I can and I did.”
“I’m giving up the law firm, Sam.”
I snorted. “To run the strip club full time?”
“It’s a lot of money, Sam. Easy money.”
“You are choosing easy money over your kids. Strippers over your kids.”
“You have it wrong, Sam. I don’t date the girls.”
Just hearing the word “girls” made my skin crawl. “No,” I said, “you just fuck them.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Sam. Who to see and who not to see. How to live my life. How to make money.”
“No, but I can tell you this.”
He sighed. “What?”
“You will never, ever be alone with my kids.”
And I clicked off the phone.
Emphatically.
Chapter Twenty-two
“You’ve got that look in your eye,” said Allison.
“What look?”
“That don’t-mess-with-me-or-I’m-gonna-rip-out-your-throat look.” As she spoke, she slowly reached over and gently pried my fingers from my iPhone. The bottom corner of the phone’s screen was already cracked from my last conversation with Danny.
“Remember,” she said. “He’s a total pig.”
“And that,” I said, getting up, “is why I keep you around.”
“You keep me around?” said Allison, grabbing her plate of unfinished eggs and hurrying after me. “Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I keep you around.”
“Sure,” I said, and picked up my pace.
“Hey, where are we going?”
I opened the French door that led from the balcony into the magnificent kitchen. I looked back at her. “We’re looking for a killer, remember?”
“Well, I think we found him.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.”
“So, where are we going?”
“I’ve got some investigator stuff to do.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
I motioned to the others who were still sitting outside on the deck, enjoying what was, I suspected, rare sunshine. Indeed, storm clouds were already gathering on the far horizon. And if I wasn’t mistaken, they looked even nastier than the ones from yesterday.
“Do what you do best,” I said. “Talk.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Mingle. Get me the lowdown. Let me know who sets off your own inner alarm system.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but I shooed her back outside. She pouted a moment or two, then stuck out her tongue and headed back out onto the deck.
I paused in the kitchen, closed my eyes, and mentally searched the home again. I saw everyone, even Edwin asleep on his cot in the basement. One person was still noticeably absent: Tara. Perhaps she was out of my range.
So, I zeroed in on the one person I was looking for, and headed off.
Deeper into the massive home.
Chapter Twenty-three
I soon got lost.
I backtracked down a hallway or two, rounded a corner, passed an actual conservatory with its domed, glass ceiling, and found myself in the library.
No, I didn’t see Professor Plum or Colonel Mustard. Definitely, I didn’t see a candlestick, whatever that was. I did see, however, an older gentleman reading a book and drinking from a highball glass. The amber liquid in the glass wasn’t, I suspected, lemonade.
Cal Thurman, George Thurman’s brother, looked up from the latest James Patterson novel, this one called Death, Sweet Death, and smiled broadly when he saw me.
“Allison, right?”
“Close,” I said. “Allison’s my friend. I’m Samantha.”
He chuckled. “Hey, at my age, anything close is a good sign. The other day I called my wife Rick.”
“Who’s Rick?”
“No clue. Have a seat.”
I grinned and sat in the chair next to him. He asked if I wanted a drink, indicating a bar nearby. I mentioned that this was the first library I’d seen with a full service bar. He laughed and said he would drink to that, and did. Then he poured himself another and sat back down next to me. I noted the time: 11:45. Not even noon.
“So, what can I do you for?” he asked, and, with one gulp, nearly finished his fresh glass of the hard stuff.
“You suggested that I see you about some, ah, strange occurrences that have been happening on the island. I’m interested in hearing more about the curse.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Was I drunk?”
“You were drinking, yes.”
He laughed. “That might explain it. Sure, yes. There’s rumors this island is cursed. Dates all the way back to when, hell, I don’t know, probably back to the Native Americans. Even before the white man came, the Na
tive Americans were at war over this island. From what we gather, there was a lot of bloodshed here. Not to mention a shipwreck or two.”
I’d read about the island having some history, and that it had been the location of a few tribal skirmishes, but I wasn’t aware of a lot of bloodshed. I asked him to explain further.
“We’ve found two burial sites on the north side of the island. We’re on the south side. And not just burial sites, but battle sites, too. Skulls cleaved nearly in half, severed arms and legs, and gashes to necks and ribs. Dozens and dozens of such bodies.”
“Found where?” I asked.
“Mostly in the ground, but some were in a tunnel system that appears to run underneath the island. Edwin has taken an interest in the tunnels, and so has Tara, for that matter.”
He eyed me earnestly. Granted, his eyes were bloodshot, but he was imploring me, I think, to read deeper into his words.
He continued, “Back in the day, my father was going to build on the north end, along the peninsula, where he would have panoramic views of the Sound and the city of Victoria. Instead, he built here, in the woods, which was really the only other viable spot.”
“What made him change course?”
“The hauntings. The workers getting spooked. And, of course, the deaths. Which, of course, leads us back to the curse.”
He explained further. “Two workers had been killed at the old site, both having fallen from ladders. Both deaths had been unexplained, as they had been alone. Another worker had heard one of the men scream. Sounded like he’d seen a ghost...and then plummeted to his death.”
“Perhaps, he screamed on the way down,” I suggested.
Cal shook his blocky head. “No. It was described as the most blood-curdling scream anyone had ever heard, followed by another scream. Which, I assume, was the poor bastard falling. Anyway, that’s when the talk of curses began.”
“So, what happened next?”
“My father decided to change course. And build the home on the south side, where we’re at now.”
“And no more instances of curses?”
“Samantha, there are always instances of curses.”