Nocturne

by Heather McKenzie

  “I grew up swimming in mountain lakes so I’m pretty sure I can handle it,” I said.

  Thomas raised an eyebrow. “The Rocky Mountains?”

  I nodded. “The most beautiful place in the world.”

  “Must have been great growing up in your castle there.”

  “It could have been if I wasn’t—”

  Damn it, Thomas was good. I pressed my lips together for fear of saying anything else personal.

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “Well, if you’re up for a swim, you just might get to see me in a speedo. You think my butt looks good in jeans? You just wait…you won’t be able to keep your hands off me,” he said, grinning.

  I wanted to smile, but couldn’t allow him the satisfaction. “You’re such a dickhead.”

  “Nah, I’m not,” he said, his grin even wider. “Anyway, did you pick out your bed yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “C’mon inside. Your palace awaits.”

  I followed him into the bunkhouse, which was a long and narrow room without any decoration. Bunk beds with heavy grey blankets lined the walls, and a couple of chairs sat next to a cracked mirror. The windows were murky and the curtains thin. The room could sleep twelve people, but there wasn’t room for anything but sleep.

  “You can wash up over there,” Thomas said, tossing the bag of clothes he’d picked out for me at the Wal-Mart onto a lower bunk before pointing to the corner of the room.

  Once back there, I discovered a locker-room style shower. Wide open. No doors. Only tiled floors and walls with four spouts that stuck out of the walls next to hooks for towels. I grew up surrounded by guards and nannies and pretty much never had the option of being modest, so this didn’t bother me. I’d bet by the way Thomas was quietly waiting for a reaction he suspected I would freak out.

  “This place is…”

  “A dump?” Ben said, suddenly behind me. I hadn’t even heard him approach, even with his loud stomp-like walk and wooden-heeled boots.

  “No, I was going to say it’s great.”

  His hat was off and gripped tightly in his hands. “This place is clean and warm, but not much else. After a full day of work, though, you won’t care what it looks like. As for showering? I’ll make sure you have some privacy.”

  Thomas sidled past us with soap and towels. “Maybe Kate isn’t all that shy,” he said with a wink.

  Ben ignored him. “Go change into some decent clothes and meet us outside. And hurry up about it.”

  Thomas whipped around to face Ben, soap dropping to the floor. “Why are you ordering her around like that?” he asked, challenging his boss with a bold stare.

  I braced for another argument. Thomas and Ben’s head butting wasn’t about me, I suspected. There was a history between them, and I was just a catalyst to dredge it up.

  “It’s okay, I’m—”

  “Used to it?” Thomas finished. “Yeah, we can see that. So Ben, how about treating her with a bit more respect, considering how she’s been treated before… us.”

  Ben stood firm. “I’m just treating her like I would any other employee, because that’s what she is. Same as you, Thomas. So remind yourself who signs your paycheck and get the hell out so the girl can get changed.”

  Thomas fumed, his cheeks turning red. I could see there were many things he wanted say, but he held back.

  “I really would like to change. In private,” I murmured.

  Thomas gave Ben a glare, then in a huff, marched off.

  “The only reason that boy hasn’t been fired is because he’s a hard worker,” Ben said. My lie detector went off; there was definitely a different reason. “Stay away from him.” His stomping shook the hardwood as he headed for the door. “He goes through women like toilet paper.”

  “I—”

  The door slammed, and I didn’t get a chance to explain how incredibly uninterested I was in Thomas. Self-assured, full of himself, hot-headed, and extremely good looking, he was irritating. Although, he somehow made me momentarily forget about the things in my life I was angry about. As I dug through the clothes he’d picked out for me, I was astonished he’d accurately guessed my bra size. The black lacy fabric fit perfectly and felt good against my skin, so did the jeans and the soft blue sweater. It was amazing to be fully dressed. It boosted my mood and made me feel not quite as vulnerable.

  I glanced in the mirror. The clothes were nice, but I looked painfully thin in them. My hipbones were sharp, and my face seemed drawn. I appeared haggard. Sad. I was about to turn away from my horrid reflection, but a thin ray of sun straining through the curtains caught the gold of the maple leaf and silver of the pendant hanging around my neck. It stopped me in my tracks, shedding light on the most obvious solution to my problem—DNA.

  I had it. Encased in resin in the silver pendant. The drop of Lenore’s blood that was proof I wasn’t her biological child. She had left it to me, giving me the means, the power, to break my ties to the inheritance and get my life back. All I had to do was get John Marchessa to believe me and analyze it—without him killing me first. I just needed time. Time to figure out how to do that…

  “C’mon, Kate, hurry up. There’s work to do,” Ben yelled from outside on the porch.

  I tucked the necklaces safely underneath the sweater, then pulled on a pair of comfy black boots. I felt better knowing I had a way out of this mess, and a second glance in the mirror reflected that.

  “For God’s sake, Kate, while I’m young,” Ben shouted.

  The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare of dead ends and disappointment. Being stuck in a motel room with Oliver was the last place I wanted to be. Instead, I ghosted the streets of town—some butthole not worth knowing the name of—and tried to calm my head. Worry was eating me alive. I paced, stomped, and got curious eyes from the townsfolk going about their business. Hours rolled by. And when my feet couldn’t take any more and my eyes would barely focus, I headed back to the motel.

  Strange sounds greeted me the moment I entered the parking lot. There were a few people gathered outside their doors. Judging by a shirtless and angry man, it was obvious most had been rudely awoken. The crowd’s anger was directed at Oliver’s room. Coming from it were thrashing sounds as if a raging bull was trapped inside.

  “He’s probably on dope. Somebody call the manager,” a woman said. “Or the cops.”

  An orange-haired lady poked her husband in the arm. “Just go in there and shut him the hell up! I need my beauty sleep.”

  The shirtless man had a phone in his hand, and I knew what number he was about to dial. I sprinted toward him with the room key in hand.

  “Whoa, hang on…don’t call the cops,” I said breathlessly. “That’s just my little brother in there. He’s…uh…” I scrambled for a lie. “He has epileptic seizures. I’ll get him calmed down, all right? I’ve got his meds.”

  The shirtless man puffed up his chest. “You better shut him up or I’ll have to do something about it.”

  I nodded agreeably and waited for the crowd to dissipate before opening the door.

  What I saw didn’t make sense.

  Oliver was in the middle of the room, swinging at the air. His fists were bloody, and he was swearing at someone…but there was nobody there.

  “Oliver?” I said carefully and shut the door behind me.

  My voice startled him. He turned to face me, eyes rolling around in his head. He swayed, then stumbled backward and crushed the neck of a fallen lamp. Was he drunk?

  “Oliver?” I said again. “Everything okay there, dude?”

  He blinked rapidly. Seeming confused, he glanced wildly around at the thrashed room. The bed was sideways and sheets torn off, the TV was on the floor and upside down, massive dents in the drywall were marked with dabs of blood—damn. I used my credit card to pay for the room. The cost for damages were going to be rock-star worthy.

  Oliver’s chest heaved with ragged breaths. “What the hell is going on?” he asked, voice breaking.r />
  “I don’t know. But, holy crap, I sure wouldn’t want you as a roommate.”

  “Luke?” he asked, as if he didn’t recognize me.

  Was he having a stroke? There was something wrong with him. His eyes narrowed. He gritted his teeth, lip curling into a snarl. “Yeah, it’s me. Your favorite guy, Luke. Should I call you a doctor or something?”

  He straightened his shoulders before puffing out his chest. “I hate you,” he said, lunging for me.

  I could have moved out of the way, but then his stupid head would have met the doorframe with full force and he would have knocked himself out. Instead, I stood there like a human pillow—which wasn’t so good for me. The bloke winded me and threw a fist at my face.

  “Oliver, get a hold of yourself,” I yelled. “We’re a team now, remember?”

  He pulled back his arm to hit me again and I caught it, surprised it wasn’t much of a struggle to hold him back. I knew what kind of strength Oliver was capable of, but he was strangely weak. Yes, my cheek was stinging, but not throbbing like it should have been. I pushed him away, sending him stumbling backward onto his butt as if the bones of his legs had turned to dust.

  “We are a team?” he said, shaking his head as if trying to remember our mutual bad dream.

  There was the tang of blood in my mouth. “Uh, yeah. We have to find Kaya. Remember her? What is wrong with you, Oliver?”

  His eyes fluttered madly. He’d cut his arm on something. A large gash ran from his elbow to his wrist, bleeding onto the beige carpet. It was bad. I carefully sidestepped around him to the bathroom.

  He was sweating. Spitting words. “Pills. I need them. Right now.”

  At least the bathroom remained intact. I took in a deep breath, hoping the man with no shirt wasn’t calling the cops. “You mean those yellow things you keep munching on?”

  “Yes. Get me some, Luke.”

  Oliver was a drug addict, but nothing about it seemed fitting. “I don’t even know what it is you are hooked on. I can get you an aspirin if you want in a minute. But for now, here’s a towel for your arm. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

  Ignoring me, he struggled to his feet. “Get me those pills! Now,” he yelled, then dove at me again. This time, I got out of the way and let him vault himself into the closet. When he stumbled back out of it, he left behind a completely crumpled plastic door. It only stunned him for a second.

  His eyes were wide as plates. “Oh my God… she told me this would happen. I tried to wean myself off them, but I can’t. My head hurts. The anger is consuming me…I have to get some more…”

  “Who told you this would happen?”

  “She did,” he yelled.

  “Whoa, calm down… judging by the looks of ya, I’d say getting off those pills is probably a good idea.” I picked up a glass from the floor, keeping my eyes on him the whole time.

  “Some more pills… I need them… And… I hate you, Luke,” he hissed, his eyes clouded over. His arms started swinging, and he barreled through the room toward me. Avoiding his slow-as-molasses attempts to strike me was easy. Waiting for him to tire out so I wouldn’t have to hurt him wasn’t. Whatever was making him rage uncontrollably had also made him exceptionally tenacious. After ten minutes of dancing around the destroyed room, I had no choice but to give him a shot to the head or risk an unwanted visit from the cops.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, winding a telephone cord around his massive wrists when he collapsed into a heap onto the floor. I got the mattress back on the box spring and struggled to get him on it, then tied his feet together. The cut on his arm didn’t look too deep, but it had bled enough to turn the sheets into something out of a horror scene. I ripped them, wrapping his arm carefully with shreds of the cheap linen, and then put a pillow under his head. His eyes flickered open, and he watched me silently.

  “It seems as if you are having a bit of withdrawal,” I said casually. There was no sense poking the bear.

  His lip was bleeding and his voice now sounded like the Oliver of yesterday. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  “What are you hooked on?”

  “Painkillers. Some experimental Eronel crap. I’ve got a couple of busted ribs. When I was searching for Kaya, they made the pain bearable.” Panic and fear shone in his eyes. “Listen, you can’t untie me, Luke. I think I might try to kill you. Or anyone who comes near me.”

  “Yah, I kinda figured that. I just hope you get your head together soon. We’ve gotta find… her.”

  His brown eyes blinked rapidly. “Just go then,” he said.

  “And leave you alone?”

  His eyes rolled back slightly, and he labored to re-focus them. “Yeah.”

  As enticing as that thought was, Oliver probably needed me more than Kaya did at the moment. Besides, she’d never forgive me if I just walked away. So, here we were again, him hanging from the edge of a cliff and me not able to let go. Fantastic.

  “I’m gonna stick around, Oliver. I’m kinda getting a kick out of watching you suffer.”

  “Great,” he said, then his eyes shut.

  A phone softly buzzed from somewhere. Dumping Oliver’s backpack, I found his cell. “Sindra is calling you…”

  He was out cold. I held his phone in my hand, wondering if I should answer it. I knew about Sindra and guessed she was probably who Oliver had called back at the bar. Maybe she had information about Kaya.

  An involuntary shudder rolled down my spine when I pushed the answer button. “Hello?” I said quickly.

  There was a pause. “Where’s Oliver?” said a cold and professional voice with a slightly British accent. It fit Kaya’s description of Sindra.

  “He’s, uh, having a nap.”

  Another pause. “Is he acting a bit… strange?”

  “Yeah. You could say he’s not quite himself.”

  “I see. Am I to assume I am speaking to Luke?”

  I cleared my throat. Obviously, she knew about me, too. “Yes.”

  “Well, Luke, Oliver is going through withdrawal. He might start getting very sick. Will you look after him?”

  I detected desperation in the question. “That depends. Do you have any information for me?” I asked, hoping to barter Oliver’s well-being for any clues to Kaya’s whereabouts.

  “Yes,” she said. “I know where Kaya is. For the next two weeks, you must take care of Oliver. After he’s better, I’ll share her location.”

  Now the shudder rolled down to my toes. “Two weeks?”

  “Yes. If Oliver lasts that long, he’ll be in the clear and I’ll tell him personally where to find her. But if he dies…”

  “Whoa lady! What do you mean if he dies? Should I take him to a hospital?”

  Sindra tried to hide her concern with a flat tone. “No. There’s nothing they could do there. Just give him orange juice, lots of it. Dramamine and alcohol to sedate him, too, but not mixed together. Keep him restrained so he doesn’t harm himself. Oh, and put him on his side when he blacks out to reduce the risk of him choking on his own vomit. If he quits breathing… Well, you could call an ambulance, but they won’t be able to do anything. Just please, don’t leave him alone.”

  “This is insane. I’m not a nurse.”

  “Listen, Oliver’s health in exchange for Kaya’s whereabouts or you will never see her again. Got it? She is as safe as she could possibly be for now, of that I can promise you. But it won’t last forever. I wish you good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  She hung up.

  I went to the bathroom to try to settle my raw nerves by splashing water on my face, and then filled up a glass of it for the beast. I lifted his head. His eyes sprung open when I put the cup to his mouth.

  “I hate you, Luke,” Oliver sputtered after guzzling greedily.

  “Yeah. So you’ve said.”

  His eyes met mine, faced twisted in pain and desperation. “But we need each other.”

  “Appears so.”

  “I hate that, too.”

 
I agreed. “It’s not ideal.”

  “Was that Sindra?” he asked. “Did she find Kaya?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Can she be trusted?”

  Oliver dragged in a labored breath. “Sindra’s word is concrete. She is the only one we can trust. Did I tell you I like donuts? Maple glazed. Kaya doesn’t. Oh my God! We have to find her. Luke, help me find her!”

  Oliver was drifting back into his crazed state. “I will. It’ll be easier if you stop trying to kill me, though.”

  “I can’t guarantee that.”

  I moved the glass a safe distance away.

  “I feel it… my head spinning out of control again,” Oliver said sadly. “I can tell I’m drifting into that red zone, and I don’t want to go there.”

  I made sure the cord was still wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. “I’ll keep you under control.”

  “Thanks,” he said, eyes rolling around in his head. “Oh, and one more thing…”

  I braced for an onslaught of cruelty. “What?”

  “I… I’m going to throw up.”

  I was standing between a steaming stovetop and a counter covered with enough pie dough to bake an entire orchard. I was in hell—also known as Mrs. Carlson’s kitchen.

  “Good Lord, dearie, have ya never baked a pie before?” she said, coming to inspect my progress.

  Her apron and her hands were stained pink with beet juice. When she rubbed her sun-spotted forehead, she left behind a smudge. Her appearance suggested a sweet grandma from the movies with grey hair piled up into a bun and a twinkle in her eyes. She’d welcomed me into her home with open arms. But now, she was ready to boot me out the door. I had pie dough stuck to my hands and the kitchen counter, but nowhere near the pie plates. Worse yet, the pot I was supposed to mind was now bubbling over and splattering all over the place.

  “I haven’t really cooked much,” I confessed.

  Mrs. Carlson dove for the chili and took it off the heat. “And Ben hired you as his housekeeper?”

  “He felt sorry for me, I guess.” I wrestled with the sticky dough, making a bigger mess.

  “And why is that?” she asked, lowering her shiny pink glasses to look at me, suspiciously eyeing my stomach.