Scapulimancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 7)

by Charmaine Pauls

  Maggie sighed. “Passing through or new in town?”

  “I’m stuck here for a while.”

  “Stay away from Wayne West.”

  “Why?” she said, almost defensively.

  Maggie took her uninjured hand. “You’re going to hear this, eventually, if you stick around long enough. I may as well be the one to tell you. Wayne has been in prison. He’s only been out on parole for a year.”

  Her world stopped turning. The ground tilted, and her head felt dizzy, but she kept her voice even. “What for?”

  “Murder.” Maggie regarded her solemnly. “He killed a woman. His girlfriend. My friend.”

  She felt sick. She couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

  “Nobody knows. She was Xhosa. People say it became a racial issue. He never said why.”

  “He confessed?”

  “No. He said he was intoxicated and couldn’t remember what happened, but I know she was unhappy with him. She told me the fights were getting worse. There was a party at the boathouse bar one evening. It happened that night.”

  “How?”

  Maggie shook her head. “It was horrific. So cruel.”

  Suddenly, she had to know. “How?”

  “He tied her to the back of his truck and dragged her up the mountain.”

  Sara’s breath caught in her throat.

  Maggie’s eyes shone with tears. “Her mother had to identify the body, but she said there was nothing left of her daughter, not even a face to recognize. After dragging her twenty miles on a dirt road, the rocks and bushes had taken the meat right off her bones.”

  Sara couldn’t listen to more. Her whole body shook.

  “He called the police the next morning, told them he found the body behind his truck and had no idea how it got there. They convicted him, but he maintained he had no memory of the night. Finally, the judge ruled that he hadn’t been in his right mind when the incident took place.” Her voice turned hard. “Instead of spending his life in prison, he got out on parole after six years. Like everywhere, the prisons here are overflowing. They had to make space for the new criminals. Besides, nobody cared that she was killed. Nobody cares if another Xhosa dies.”

  “What was her name?” she said softly.

  “Mariana.” Maggie turned away and dabbed at her eyes. She scrubbed her hands at the basin and pulled on medical gloves. “I’m telling you so you know you can tell me if he deliberately hurt you.”

  Maggie took her hand and started cleaning the wound.

  “Has he hurt anyone else?” Sara asked.

  “There hasn’t been a woman up at the cabin after Mariana.”

  “I see.”

  After applying an ointment, Maggie bandaged her hand. “All done. Is there anything I need to put on the report card?”

  “No.” Sara shook her head. “Nothing. It was a kitchen accident.”

  The look Maggie gave her said she didn’t believe her.

  “I swear,” Sara said. “I set his kitchen on fire and burned my hand in the process. If anyone was wronged, it’s Wayne.”

  Maggie wrote something down and handed Sara the piece of paper. “Here’s the name of an ointment you can get from the pharmacy. If the wound becomes inflamed, come see the doctor immediately.”

  Maggie walked her out. There was no sign of Wayne in the corridor.

  The nurse took her hand and gave a squeeze. “You can trust me, Sara.”

  “Okay.”

  “I just want you to know that.”

  At that moment, Wayne turned the corner, carrying a cardboard tray with a box and two paper cups. His gaze moved from the women’s clasped hands to Sara’s face. Something in his expression shifted. If his eyes had been hard like diamonds before, now they turned cold, like black frost.

  Maggie gave him a curt nod as he neared. “She’ll be fine, but it always hurts to see a pretty girl damaged. I hope you won’t have to bring her back.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw, but he said nothing.

  “Bye, Sara. It was a pleasure to meet you. You can pay at reception.” Maggie turned and walked off.

  “Breakfast,” Wayne said, putting a paper cup in her good hand. “I hope you drink coffee.”

  Without another glance at her, he made his way back to the reception desk. The man looked up from a stack of papers.

  “Sahara Graham?” he said.

  Wayne balanced the tray on the counter. “That’s us.”

  “Here’s your invoice.”

  Before she could take it, Wayne snatched it away. “I said I’d get it.”

  “It’s not your responsibility.”

  He took a card from his wallet and pushed it over the counter. “Yes, it is.”

  Had she been less distressed, she would’ve argued and insisted to cover her own medical bill. Instead, she simply stood there and watched Wayne pay with his credit card. What was she supposed to make of the information Maggie had just shared? She couldn’t imagine him to be so cruel, not the man who’d saved her.

  He folded the receipt and slipped it into his back pocket. Taking the carton, he made his way to the truck. He drank his coffee in two long swigs, dumped the cup in the trashcan, and put the box on the seat.

  “Doughnuts,” he said. “It’s the only breakfast they had.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  He got in and slammed the door. Her seatbelt was barely fastened before he took off. She noticed they didn’t take the road back to the forest, but went in the opposite direction.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Something flashed in his eyes. It could’ve been disappointment or hurt, but he masked it with a cold smile. “Worried?”

  “I just want to know.”

  “Pharmacy.”

  He parked outside a pharmacy in a strip mall and held out his hand. “Give me the prescription.”

  “I can–”

  “Don’t make a battle out of everything. I don’t have the energy.”

  She handed over the paper Maggie had given her. He hopped from the truck and disappeared through the glass doors of the building. She opened the box and closed it again. The smell of sweet dough and sugar filled the truck, but her thoughts felt bitter and poisoned.

  His tall, broad shape appeared in the door a short while later, pharmacy bag in the hand. Those big, rough, callused hands… He couldn’t have tied a rope around someone’s arms or legs… She shivered. No, she couldn’t go there.

  The door opened. “Here.” He left the bag between them and started the engine.

  His arm went around the back of the bench as he twisted in the seat to see through the back window. He put the truck into gear, and then his arm went back behind her, a gesture that was supposed to be casual but was loaded with tense energy.

  “So,” he said with a wry smile, “she told you.”

  She looked at the pink box on her lap. “Yes.”

  She jumped when he traced the cut on her elbow with a finger.

  “She thinks I did this to you.”

  His big hand moved back to the steering wheel, clutching it so hard his knuckles turned white. For the first time, she noticed the thin white scars that hadn’t been visible in the dark.

  “Splinters and scrapes from the wood,” he said, following her eyes.

  She tore her gaze away from the hand that had held her so gently last night, from the fingers that had caressed her breasts and spread her open to reach her deepest core.

  “Now you know.” He gave a hard laugh. “Told you I’m not the right man.”

  “Is it true?” She desperately wanted it not to be.

  “Depends on what she told you.”

  “I want to hear it from you.”

  His nostrils flared. “I owe you nothing. You’re neither family, nor girlfriend. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  She turned in her seat. “What am I? A one-night stand? No wait. We never got to that part. I’m just the girl you almost fucked last night.”

 
“Damn right about that. You should thank me for not fucking you like you begged me to.”

  “I did not beg!”

  “No?” His eyes trailed over her. “I think you were hitting damn hard on me. Those pretty eyes of yours were definitely begging me to take you. That cocky, rebellious mouth of yours parted all by itself for my tongue. I bet you a thousand bucks it would’ve parted for my cock, too.”

  Her cheeks burned hot with anger. “If you didn’t want to, then why did you?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want to. It was obvious you needed to … blow off steam … or else you wouldn’t have teased me so mercilessly.”

  “Teased you?”

  “You got into my bed, not the other way around.”

  The clearing of the bar came into view.

  “Well, I’m sorry I hit on you.” She dumped the doughnuts on the seat, got out, and slammed the door. Leaning through the open window, she said, “Don’t flatter yourself by thinking I wanted you. The feeling wasn’t real. It was just the drug.”

  She turned on her heel and rushed to her Jeep. He called her name, stopping her in her tracks.

  She twirled around. “What?”

  He waved the green SAN uniform through the window. “Your clothes.” A devil’s grin curved his wicked lips, lips that knew how to give a damn hard orgasm, even if he’d only done it so she could ‘blow off steam’.

  Just then, Jack stepped from the bar. His gaze flickered from Wayne to Sara. She didn’t want to stand there in Wayne’s clothes under Jack’s scrutiny. Maggie had been enough.

  “Keep it as a souvenir,” she called, continuing to her Jeep.

  Once inside, she realized her backpack was still in Wayne’s truck. Damn. In the rearview mirror, she saw his door open and a big, masculine boot hit the ground. He straightened from the truck, her bag in his hand, and crossed the clearing with a smirk on his face, kicking up dust as he went.

  Not having an option as her key was in the bag, she rolled down her window.

  He leaned one elbow on the frame, her bag swinging from his fingers. “Forgot something?”

  As she reached for the bag, he cupped her head and planted a kiss squarely on her lips. “You forgot your goodbye kiss, little girl.”

  She plucked the bag from his hands with a scowl.

  “And for the record,” he said, low enough for only her to hear, “you have the most delicious pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

  Son of a bitch! She rolled up her window so he had to step back. Her fingers shook while she went through her bag, fishing for her key. By the time she’d found it, his truck was already turning into the road, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind.

  Chapter Five

  The house where Bella lived was on the beach, not far from the lagoon, a modern contraption of glass and chrome Wayne didn’t care for. The double-story mansion made him feel out of his depth and cold. Perhaps that was Bella’s intention–keeping things impersonal and distant.

  It was after lunch, already. There was a good probability Bella was working, but he took his chances, anyway. Coming up the long driveway that circled around a statue of an embracing couple at the front, he was relieved to see no other cars, except for her vintage convertible.

  Bella herself opened the door before he had time to ring the bell. She leaned in the frame wearing a pink bikini and shades.

  “You should’ve called,” she said.

  “Can I come in?”

  She stepped aside. “Join me on the deck.”

  They went out front to a wooden terrace with a pool overlooking the sea. A housekeeper followed with a tray of lemonade she left on the table.

  “I’m working on my tan.” Bella removed her bikini and stretched out on a deckchair. She cupped her breasts. “What do you think?”

  Bella’s naked body was nothing new to him. She’d always treated him like a girlfriend.

  “Nice,” he said, sitting down on the edge of her seat.

  “Don’t you see the difference?”

  This put him on alert. The last time he hadn’t spotted the difference in her haircut had led to tears.

  He leaned closer. “You didn’t get a boob job, did you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a new firming cream.”

  “You don’t need it.”

  She pinched his cheek. “You’re a honey. Now, tell me why you’re here. You always call. You should call.”

  He steeped his fingers together. “How much?”

  She lifted her glasses and scrutinized him. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “I need to get laid.”

  She dropped the glasses in place. “I don’t fuck people I know.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “Exactly. I don’t fuck my friends.” She sat up. “Have you been with a woman since Mariana?”

  He looked toward the ocean. “You know I haven’t.”

  “Then why the sudden urge?”

  When he didn’t answer, she shot upright again. “Oh, my God, you met someone.”

  “Nothing like that. I just had a naked woman fucked on mushrooms in my bed all night.”

  Bella gasped, her Bambi blue eyes growing round. “A prostitute?”

  “No, dammit. That’s why I’m here.”

  She swatted his arm. “I’m not a prostitute. I’m a companion.”

  “Whatever.”

  She hit him again. “Be nice or you can’t be my friend.” She took a bottle of suntan lotion from the table and shoved it into his hands. “Tell me all about it.”

  He squirted a blob of lotion into his palm. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “You’re not easy to talk to, you know,” she said from over her shoulder. “No wonder I’m your only friend.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. There’s Christian, too.”

  At the mention of his friend’s name, her body tightened. He rubbed the cream over her shoulders and massaged her stiff muscles.

  “Still in love with him?” he asked gently.

  She sighed and leaned back into his hands. “I never said I was in love with him.”

  “You can’t lie to your oldest friend. I know you too well.” He worked his way down her spine. “You should invite him over.”

  “Oh, that feels good.” She groaned. “I fuck businessmen for money, Wayne. I don’t do dates.”

  “I know.”

  “Which brings me back to why you’re here.”

  “You sure you won’t make an exception, even for an old friend?”

  She turned and cupped his crotch. “I don’t turn you on, baby.” She squeezed. “See?”

  True. No hard-on. Not even a twitch. Bella was gorgeous, but she didn’t do it for him.

  “The woman in your bed,” she turned so he could do her front, “why didn’t you have sex with her?”

  “Told you, she was fucked on mushrooms.”

  “You wanted to.”

  He got up. “Yes, dammit. I wanted to.”

  “Call her when she’s un-fucked.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s SAN.”

  “So?”

  “She’s here to reclaim my land.”

  “Oh, my God.” She got to her feet, searching his face. “What will you do?”

  He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Dunno, yet. Fight, I guess.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “My poor baby. You don’t want to fight her, do you?”

  “I won’t give up my land, Bella, not again.”

  “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No,” he said harshly. “I don’t want you to get involved.” He walked to the rail and leaned his palms on it. “It could get ugly.”

  “This is nasty. You want to fuck the woman who’s going to ruin you.”

  He turned back to her slowly. “It’s worse, much worse. I want to make love to her.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Who are you? What did
you do with Wayne?”

  “God knows why I even like her, because she’s already ruined me in more ways than one.”

  The housekeeper appeared with a man wearing an expensive looking suit.

  “My three o’clock is here,” Bella said. “You can wait in the movie room if you like. It’s soundproof, so the noise won’t disturb you. This one likes it loud.”

  “I’m good.” He forced a smile.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” He lifted his palm. “I’ll have another hand job.”

  “Just fuck her already and get her out of your system.”

  He had a good idea that wasn’t going to do the trick, but the man was waiting so he gave Bella a smack on the bottom and kissed her cheek. “Be good.”

  He inclined his head as he passed the man.

  Time to go home and repair the damage.

  * * * *

  A hill dense with vegetation divided the ocean and the river. Sara rented a cabin on the riverside. The first thing she did when she got home was to strip Wayne’s clothes from her body. She bundled everything into the washing machine and set it on the hottest cycle. She didn’t want a trace of him left in her house, not a smell that could remind her of cedar and pine. She changed into a clean uniform, had a salad, and packed water and fruit in her bag.

  After loading her gear in the Jeep, she drove to the highest outlook point on the mountain and stared down at the valley. The Knysna forest stretched over the vast expanse below. On the east side of the river laid the land that belonged to Wayne, the fertile valley that was suited for agriculture. They’d worked it out so carefully. The soil was rich, and there was water. Maize, vegetables, and fruit would flourish. In return, they’d give him the grassland farther north that was good for grazing, but not for crops. It wasn’t as if he was farming. It was the only feasible option.

  It was too late to go see the Xhosa chief now, like she’d originally planned before spending the morning at the clinic, but there was enough daylight left for a short hike. She chose a forest entrance that wasn’t near Woodcutters, parked on the side of the road, and took the footpath. She needed to establish how many elephants were left. If indeed only the cow, Matriarch, was alive, they were facing the extinction of the Knysna elephant. SANParks had tried before to introduce the species from the Kruger Park in the north, but the Kruger elephants were used to the bushveld and refused to venture into the forest.