The Curse Breakers

by Denise Grover Swank

  “But it was a knife, right?”

  “Yes. I slipped with a knife while I was cutting onions.”

  “When I was in the village today, one thought kept running through my head: This isn’t normal. Four-hundred-year-old villages do not just appear out of nowhere. The people’s skeletons are immaculate. There’s food in the pots. Fires that look like they’ve only just been extinguished. Have you been out there? Have you seen it?”

  “No.” While it was on my radar, it hadn’t occurred to me that it could be a helpful source of information. Until his mention of Manteo’s hut earlier.

  “Everyone is scratching their heads trying to find a logical explanation for why it just appeared this way, but there just isn’t one. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen. There has to be some other reason for it.”

  “Supernatural?”

  He lifted his eyebrows in question.

  I had to turn this conversation around fast. “Dr. Preston, the supernatural isn’t real. I would think that you of all people would know that.”

  He tilted his head with a smug look. “And yet you mark your doors with three-hundred-year-old symbols for protection.”

  Four hundred, but pointing it out seemed unwise.

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you know why the village appeared?”

  “How would I know?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

  “Any more ridiculous than a woman who seems completely sane telling me her life depends on finding out Ahone’s symbol?”

  I pushed away from the desk and moved to the bookcase. I had more shelves to clear off. “We all have our little eccentricities. Especially those of us who live in small towns.”

  “I told you I don’t know the symbol, but what if I told you that I might have a text that does?”

  I twisted at the waist a little too eagerly.

  “Is your life really in danger, Ellie?”

  “Over the mark of a Croatan god?” I asked incredulously, turning back to the bookcase. “You yourself told me that the Croatan have been extinct for centuries.”

  “So you don’t need the symbol?”

  My hand froze midreach. Damn him. “I do.”

  He shifted his weight, still perched on the edge of the desk. “Can it wait two weeks?”

  I closed my eyes, resting my arm on the shelf. “No.”

  “Can it wait two days?”

  Could it? Ahone’s messenger had told me I had two or three days. At the moment, this seemed like my best hope.

  “I own several texts that could possibly help, but I’ve loaned them to a friend in New York. I can get him to overnight them to me, but I still won’t get them for two days. I can even ask him to see if he can find the symbol and scan it.”

  I turned to look at him. “You would do that? Why?”

  “You said it was important. What kind of knight would I be if I let something happen to a damsel in distress?”

  I’d been bullshitted before and look where that got me. “You had no qualms about letting me flounder in Chapel Hill. What changed?”

  He straightened his posture and moved toward me. David Preston was not only intelligent and good-looking, he was also built. He towered over me and I could see muscles straining against his shirt. “You want the truth?”

  I looked up into his hazel eyes. “Always.”

  “Then how about we make a deal to only tell each other the truth.”

  I hesitated.

  “And if either one of us doesn’t feel comfortable sharing the truth, we can plead the fifth.”

  I shook my head. “Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

  His mouth turned down in a frown. “Some wanker’s done a number on you, huh?”

  “Wanker?” He had no idea. “Let’s just say I’ve been burned one time too many.”

  “So at the risk of scaring you off, here’s the truth: I’m intrigued. First this attractive young woman shows up in my office looking for help and I turn her away. Then I go to see the biggest archaeological find in recorded history and not only is she there, but she’s at the center of this fascinating riddle that begs to be solved, holding pieces of information no one else knows. Have you heard the story of the Great Horned Serpent?”

  This man’s conversation shifted from topic to topic enough to give me whiplash. Had I heard of Mishiginebig? He wanted the truth. “Not until a few days ago.”

  “It has many names and crosses multiple tribes—the Algonquian, the Cherokee, the Cree. I heard three different people mention it today. Only not by name. They said someone saw a giant horned snake.”

  “So?”

  “The last time I heard someone mention a giant snake was on the Discovery Channel.”

  I was having trouble keeping my breathing even.

  “What’s with all the animals dropping dead on the island and the surrounding area?” he went on. “It all started around the time when the colony reappeared.”

  “Why ask me?”

  “What about the wild animal that’s been attacking dogs and eating their hearts?”

  I swallowed the bile in my throat.

  “Back on campus, you asked me if I’d ever heard of such a creature. Why did you connect it with an Algonquian legend? No one else did. And you’re the only one who has called it a badger.”

  I stared into his intense eyes, wondering what kind of Pandora’s box I had just opened. My heart was thudding so hard, he had to hear it. He believed me, or at least he didn’t think I was a stark-raving lunatic. “You think that I’m part of all this, that I’m some riddle to be solved?”

  “More like an enigma.”

  I looked down, unable to hold his gaze.

  “I think you know something most people don’t, but you only know pieces and you need someone to fill in the blanks. Which is why you came to see me.”

  I turned to the window.

  “I bet you’re dying to know what’s in Manteo’s hut.”

  He had no idea. “I suspect I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but you could. Did you see it?”

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d like to help you if you’ll let me. But I want to know the rest of what you know.”

  Did he even know what he was asking? I stepped backward to lean against the desk, feeling light-headed. Was it too much to hope that I’d found someone who not only had answers but was eager and willing to help me?

  “Does that upset you?”

  “Not in the way you think.”

  “Will you let me help you?”

  “How do you know I’m not some crazy woman? Or this isn’t some big practical joke? How do you know you can trust me?”

  “I just do.”

  I sat down on the edge of the desk again. This was so completely different from my experience with Collin. Maybe I could trust him. “You might have answers to so many of my questions . . . But I have to warn you, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get mixed up with me. It’s dangerous.”

  He grinned. “You do know that the best way to get a guy to help you is by challenging him by saying, ‘You can’t handle it.’”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You’re just making me more intrigued.”

  How could I turn down his offer? I needed him. “Okay. But we’ll start out slow. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea to let you in on what’s happening.”

  His eyes lit up like I’d given him a Christmas present. “I can live with that.” He held out his right hand to shake.

  I extended my hand and his engulfed mine. I waited for the familiar call of the Manitou that I always felt with Collin, but I felt peace and acceptance instead. How could I feel so comfortable with someone I’d just met?

  But as we shook, the significance of the event sobered me. By accepting his help, I was dragging him into danger. Could I let him help and live with the consequences? Could I afford not to?

  CHAP
TER ELEVEN

  Still holding my hand, David turned it over. “So what’s with the mark?”

  I shook my head and blinked. “You really don’t waste any time.”

  “From what you said, time isn’t on our side.”

  Our side? My side. There was no our anymore. Not after Collin. David might be helping me, but I was still on my own when it came to fighting the gods and spirits. I walked across the room, running my hand through my hair. “I’m the one setting the rules for now, and I need a crash course on the Algonquian gods and spirits.”

  He didn’t look too happy, but he didn’t argue either. “All of them?”

  “As many as you know about.”

  “I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you hungry?”

  Again with the lightning-fast change in topic. “Uh . . .” I’d worked through dinner, and the thought of food made my stomach growl. I looked around at the mess I’d made. I could stay here and keep looking for notes that might not even exist, or I could eat with a man who had answers. The decision was obvious. “I’d make something, but Myra only seems to be stocked with breakfast food and snacks. I help her out, but I don’t actually live here. How about we walk a couple of blocks down to Poor Richard’s Pub and get takeout? Then we can go back to my apartment. I’d rather talk about this in private, anyway.”

  “What about the mess here?”

  I considered leaving it and closing the door, but Myra would ask all kinds of questions I didn’t want to answer. “It’ll just take a couple of minutes for me to clean up. Do you need to go upstairs to get anything?”

  “No, I’ll help you and we can get going.”

  David reshelved the books while I hung the pictures on the wall.

  “Do you need to leave a message for anyone?” I asked, heading for the door.

  “No one will be interested in seeing my face until tomorrow morning. What about you? Is Myra expecting you to stay?”

  “No, I’ll just send her a text.”

  We walked out into the sultry July evening and started the short walk downtown.

  “What made you want to study Native American history?” I asked.

  “You mean because I’m British?” he asked. “I was born in England, but my mother is American. We used to come visit every few years. We stayed with some relatives in the southern part of North Carolina one summer after I graduated primary school. My uncle took me to a museum about the Cherokee because I had a strong interest in Native Americans, and I was equally enthralled and horrified. I spent the rest of my summer learning everything I could about them.” He glanced in my direction. “It’s a combination of my love for history and my taste for good mysteries. You can’t find much more of a mystery than the disappearance of the early tribes. It’s a challenge trying to piece things together.”

  That explained his interest in helping me. Good to know.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Why are you interested in the Algonquian gods and spirits?”

  “Honestly?”

  “That’s our agreement.”

  “Three weeks ago, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about them. On the other hand, my father did, and my lack of interest was a great disappointment to him.” I snuck a glance at David. “And that’s all I’ll say about that for now.”

  “Fair enough. I can wait.”

  Was I really going to tell him everything? Why did part of me crave the opportunity? Maybe because I was terrified to do this alone, and he was the one person other than Collin who might actually be able to help me.

  He cleared his throat. “At the risk of you changing your mind, I think it’s only fair that I tell you that my real focus has been on the Cherokee. I may be known as an expert on the Croatan, but considering the lack of available information, that’s not saying much.”

  “But now you’ve seen Manteo’s hut, and you have firsthand knowledge.”

  “I hardly know what’s inside it. I only saw it briefly yesterday and today. They’re concentrating on the outside and I’m just a guest.”

  “How soon until you’ll see more?”

  “A couple of days? The entire site is being cataloged. It’s slow work. What little I saw of the inside resembles a sixteenth-century English home more than an Algonquian dwelling, which isn’t that surprising given that Manteo had begun dressing and acting like the English.”

  The main street of town was bustling with tourists. David pointed to the New Moon when we turned the corner. A giant “Closed” sign hung in the window, and the place was conspicuously devoid of activity. “Isn’t that where you work? Why is it closed?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Two of the employees died.”

  “Died?” He sounded alarmed. “How?”

  I sludged through my exhausted brain, trying to remember what the official police statement said.

  “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment.

  “Do what?”

  “Whittle down your answer to some bite-sized nugget you think will appease me. Either tell me the truth or don’t answer.”

  I stopped and looked up at him in amazement. “Where the hell were you three weeks ago?” Perhaps if I’d had his intelligence at my disposal, I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this mess.

  “I was biding my time in Chapel Hill, waiting to meet you, even if I didn’t know it yet.” The way he looked at me as if I were some kind of treasured prize made me wonder if he meant that I was more than just a giant puzzle for him.

  We stood on the street corner, staring at each other longer than was appropriate while the tourists walked around us. I had an entirely new thought: Where was he four weeks ago when I was dating boring Dwight? Before Collin stole my soul?

  Someone bumped into my back, and I stumbled into David’s chest. He grabbed my elbow with one hand and then wrapped his other arm around my back.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, still holding me against him.

  “Yes.” But I still didn’t break free, my heart aching. This man was just another reminder of everything I’d lost, everything I could never have.

  “Why do you suddenly look so sad?”

  I forced a smile. “Let’s file that under information you might learn down the road.”

  His hands dropped slowly and he took a small step backward. “Okay. I can live with that. For now.”

  It was easy to see that David Preston didn’t back down from a challenge, and it was also easy to see he was used to getting his way. It was no wonder. He was a force to be reckoned with. If he didn’t get his way the first time, he could probably wear the opposition down with his endless questions.

  “How did the employees die?” he asked again.

  I turned away from him and walked across the street, waiting until he was next to me. “They were frozen.”

  He stopped in the middle of the street. “What do you mean frozen?”

  I grabbed the crook of his arm and pulled him onto the curb and out of the way of an oncoming vehicle. “Frozen. Solid.”

  “How could that happen?”

  “The police are still trying to figure that out.”

  “That’s bollocks, Ellie.” He sounded irritated.

  I stopped and put a hand on my hip, giving him a glare. “I’m guessing ‘bollocks’ is similar to ‘bullshit,’ and I can promise you that it’s not, Dr. Preston. The police are still looking into it.” I glanced back at the entrance to the restaurant, where their bodies had been found. “I pay attention to what they know.”

  “What do you know?” His voice softened. “And call me David, please.”

  “Well, David, I know more than they do, but I don’t quite feel comfortable telling you yet, especially not out in the open like this.”

  “Okay.”

  I glanced up at him in surprise.

  “I pick and choose my battles,” he said. “I’ll get this answer soon enough.”

  I shook my head and walked toward the entrance of Poor Richard’s Pub.

  “Wh
en did they die?”

  I took a breath. “A little over two weeks ago.”

  “After the colony reappeared.”

  There was no use denying it. “Yes.”

  “And your father died too.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes.”

  “Was he frozen?”

  After Ahone accepted Daddy as my sacrifice, I had been terrified that he would be frozen like the others, but it didn’t happen.

  “Ellie.” David sounded concerned. “I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me to ask.”

  “I don’t have time to be sentimental.” I squared my shoulders. “The answer is no, he wasn’t.”

  “Did anyone else die?”

  I stopped in front of the menu board and pointed. “Their pulled pork sandwiches are really good here.”

  His mouth pressed together in a thin line as he looked from me to the board. After we ordered—David insisted on paying—we sat at an empty table while we waited for our food. The dining area was nearly full of tourists, discouraging him from asking me more questions.

  “When did you move to the States?” I asked.

  “When I started graduate school.”

  “I’m guessing you like it here since you specialized in Native American studies. There can’t be much demand for that specialty in the United Kingdom.”

  “You’re correct on both counts. It’s a good thing I prefer the sunshine and the heat to the cold, rainy weather in England.”

  “What part of England are you from?”

  “London.”

  “You must have had a fascinating childhood.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t any more fascinating than growing up in Manteo.”

  The cashier called our number and David grabbed our bag. I led him out the back and we walked along the boardwalk back to my apartment.

  “Did anyone else die?” he asked when we were out of earshot of the tourists.

  I was hoping he’d leave that one alone. I should have known better. “Yes. One other person.”

  He waited.

  “A man. He was the first. He was found underneath the statue of Queen Elizabeth in the Elizabethan Botanical Gardens. He was frozen too.”

  “And what was his connection to you?”

  My head jerked up. “Why do you assume there’s a connection?”