“You’re probably right. See why we all like it when you’re around?”
“Later, Pete.” I hung up with a smile and a roll of my eyes. Bryn’s guys were well trained. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe that Pete had grown to like me, but roughneck Texas boys weren’t known for laying it on so thick. I’d bet my double boiler his boss had put him up to that bit of sugar. The message, loud and clear, was that everyone at Casa Lyons wanted me there. And darn Bryn’s clever lawyer tactics if that didn’t just warm my heart.
I wrote a note, gave Bryn a kiss on the cheek and one for Mercutio. Then I went out and stole Bryn’s car.
19
VANGIE HADN’T CALLED me at Bryn’s, and I decided not to wait any longer. It would be safer for everyone if I found out right away what she’d discovered about her stepfamily. It would also be safer for her and her fiancé if they relocated immediately to Bryn’s house.
Dyson was a cute little town, but it had nothing on Duvall. We had rivers and creeks, a magic tor, and several different prosperous businesses; Dyson had one main source of jobs, the branch of a big chemical company that I felt pretty sure was poisoning their lake given the weird reaction their cows had to drinking the water. Half were barren and half produced more babies and milk than anybody had ever seen. The citizens of Dyson didn’t say a word. As long as their own kids were healthy and folks had work, they claimed it was fine by them.
Dyson had a honky-tonk, a ten-room motel, two diners, and a horse stable and cattle ranch. They also had the biggest collection of chemical hazmat suits in a hundred-mile radius. No, they weren’t worried about that chemical plant at all.
As I rolled into town, I realized I wasn’t the only one whom Bryn’s fancy car reminded of a spaceship; everyone on Dyson’s main street stopped to stare as I passed. It wasn’t the car to drive when I wanted to keep a low profile.
I pulled into a parking spot in the motel lot and watched the car door open. It moved vertically, like it was being held up and therefore reached for the sky.
I climbed out. The clear, sunny day made the grass look extra green. I smiled at the collection of chirping birds in the trees. It was like a movie scene. It could almost have been spring, except for the chill.
As I got closer I waved at the small white-flecked black birds decorating the trees in front of the motel office. Those sparrows were adorable. I hurried forward when I spotted a beautiful blue jay nearly twice their size about to dive-bomb them. Blue jays are pretty, but they’re bullies. When the blue jay attacked, though, the little birds swarmed and pecked at it, going for the eyes. My jaw dropped as the startled blue jay fled, little dots of blood on its face.
The sparrows settled back onto the branches and tweeted away like they hadn’t just been in a big bird fight. I loved that they’d stood their limbs against a bully, but that hardly seemed like normal behavior for little birds. Yeah, I had my worries over the chemicals that were in the Dyson drinking water.
The motel office had a bay window, as its name advertised, but the window faced the parking lot. I was no architect, but that seemed like a waste of a view to me. I strolled inside the office where coffee brewed and Danish was piled high. What the motel lacked in architectural sensibility, it more than made up for with pastry hospitality. I snagged a cherry Danish and bit into it. Not from-the-oven fresh, but tasty nonetheless.
Multicolored posters advertised bus tours to Dallas and one to, of all places, Duvall. I stared at the Duvall poster, which talked about sampling local pastries that were too good to be true, visiting haunted sites, traveling the flood route, picnicking on the “magical mountain,” and driving by the mansions of the rich and dangerous whose secrets put all the reality shows to shame. Visits to the Armadillo Ale brewery and the Glenfiddle Whiskey Castle with tastings were included. Learn all there is to know about our unusual neighbors to the west in one jam-packed afternoon and evening.
“Good morning and welcome to Dyson,” the young guy behind the counter said. He arranged a couple of welcome packets that he’d been bending down to get when I’d walked in. “Will you be needing a room? And if so, would you like a lakeside view? It’s only twenty dollars extra, and now that the ducklings have hatched, there’s a complimentary bag of day-old bread to feed them. They come right up to shore for it.”
I was really tempted to go feed those ducklings, but I couldn’t spare a half hour. I frowned. What was wrong with my life that I couldn’t make time for baby ducks?
“I’m actually here to see about a friend of mine. Her name is Evangeline Rhodes.”
“Miss Rhodes, you say?” he asked, flipping through a handwritten register book. “Oh, yes, she’s our guest in number four, lakeside view.”
I glanced out at the full parking lot. “Has your business picked up since the Duvall flood and fires?”
He nodded. “We’re very sorry for Duvall’s misfortunes, but it has meant a lot of business and tourism over here. Are you from Duvall? Wait, you’ve got red hair. Are you the redhead?”
“The redhead?” I echoed, taking a step back.
“Tammy Jo Trask, ghost whisperer, pastry princess, and femme fatale?”
“Femme fatale? Who called me—I mean her that? I’m sure that’s an exaggeration. I’m sure she’s just an average small-town girl.”
His right hand popped up with his phone, and he aimed it at me. I had to dive through the door to avoid having my picture snapped.
“Femme fatale,” I grumbled as I hurried to the metal stairs.
A pair of middle-aged ladies in khaki pants and hiking boots walked briskly toward the motel. They lifted binoculars that hung around their necks. As they peeked through them, I thought for a minute they were spying on me, but then I realized they were looking at the birds.
C’mon now, I admonished myself in my head. They’re just bird-watchers! Don’t go getting paranoid.
“Look at the coloring, sister,” one of the ladies said. “Definitely Ammodramus maritimus nigrescens, common name dusky seaside sparrow.”
“I know they look like dusky seaside sparrows, but they can’t be. Seaside sparrows are extinct. The last one died in captivity in 1987 at Walt Disney World.”
“And yet here they are! An entire group! This will put Dyson on the bird-watching world map.”
I smiled. Well, what do you know, I thought, proud of Dyson for having something no one else in the world had. And also proud of those little birds that weren’t supposed to exist anymore. Good for them for deciding not to be extinct.
I climbed to the second story and hurried to number four. A row of cute sparrows sat on the rail and tweeted at me cheerfully. “People have tried to make me extinct, too,” I told them. “Hasn’t worked,” I assured them as I rapped on the door. I glanced over my shoulder, relieved that the young man hadn’t come out of the office.
Number four’s door opened, and a man with blond highlights, a narrow nose, and a cleft in his chin answered. His flawless skin looked like it had been taken from a rubber mold. I studied him, wondering if he’d had plastic surgery. If so, I thought maybe he shouldn’t have. His features were smooth and perfect, but the proportions were off. His nose bugged me. It was small, like it would’ve fit better on a ten-year-old girl than a man.
“Hello,” he said. He had an appealing radio announcer kind of voice.
“Hi there. I’m Tammy Jo. Are you Jackson?”
“I am. Come in,” he said, motioning me inside. He wore an oxford shirt with a Polo logo and matching cologne. “Where’s Evangeline? Has anything happened?”
My stomach lurched. “Why are you asking me?”
“She went to meet you,” he said.
“She did?”
“Yes, after she returned from Dallas.”
“When did she leave to meet me?”
“Three—possibly four—hours ago. She doesn’t sleep much when she’s agitated or excited about something. I told her it was too early to disturb you, but she wanted to go to your town bakery and
was convinced that you’d be awake early.”
“I tried her cell this morning. She didn’t pick up.”
He frowned, drawing his thick and well-groomed brows together. “Well, she doesn’t always answer right away if she’s distracted. She’s probably gotten sidetracked. It happens. She loses track of time and disappears for hours.”
My heart thumped in my chest, and I ordered it to calm the heck down. Vangie had ignored my calls the day before, and she’d been perfectly fine. For all I knew she’d been waiting for me and had fallen asleep in her car. Or took up residence in the bouncy castle again for a nap.
I called Cookie’s Bakery. The morning rush kept Cookie hopping, but she did bark into the phone that no strangers had been in. I sighed and hung up, glancing back at Jackson.
“Well, I’d really like to talk to Vangie, to be sure she’s okay. My cell phone’s growing grass in the woods—long story—so could you call Bryn Lyons’s house or have Vangie call it when you talk to her?” I took the small pad from the table and wrote Bryn’s number and address for him. “In fact, you can just go on over there whenever you’re ready. Did Vangie talk to you about staying at Bryn’s until after the wedding?”
“She mentioned it, but I’ll wait to come until she’s with me. Will you extend me the same courtesy of calling if you see her?” he asked, taking the pad and pen. He wrote his number.
“Sure thing,” I said, taking it.
“I’m sure she’s all right,” he said, but I sensed that he was trying to convince himself more than me. “She believes her stepmother and brother followed her here. Anything having to do with the pair of them puts her on edge.”
“With good reason.”
He blinked. “Have you met them?”
“Yeah.”
“Were they rude to you?” he asked, surprised.
“Were they polite to you?” I asked, equally surprised.
“I’ve never met them. But I thought Vangie might have exaggerated how unpleasant they can be,” he said. “In pictures, Oatha Theroux is usually dressed in a ‘ladies who lunch’ suit, albeit with a skirt that’s too tight. Vangie’s stepbrother wears suits. He hardly seems like a thug.”
My brows shot up like his. “Suits? I don’t think so,” I said. “They’re more Louisiana swamp than Dallas swank. He’s got an alligator tattoo! And I can tell you firsthand that Vangie didn’t exaggerate about how bad they can be.”
“Maybe I should call the police,” he said.
“You could,” I said. “But it’s too early for a missing-person report.”
He nodded, grimacing. “I’ll check the local places around here. If I don’t find her, I’ll join you in Duvall.”
“Okay,” I said with a nod. I was already halfway out the door.
She’s probably fine.
But given what I’d seen going on in the wetlands outside Duvall, I was pretty concerned. One time, I’d been kidnapped twice in one week and that hadn’t even been after a night of black magic and burning horseflesh.
On the landing, I spotted half a dozen Dyson residents milling about the parking lot near Bryn’s car. As soon as they saw me, they fumbled to get their cell phone cameras up.
“Hey, y’all,” I said with a cheerful smile, but held out a hand to cover my face as their phones clicked.
“C’mon now, Tammy Jo,” they protested. “You’re the closest thing we’ve had to a celebrity sighting in Dyson.”
I kept my chin tucked, so my hair hid my face. “I’m not a celebrity! I’m just like you,” I lied.
“Then why not be sociable? Stop and pose for a few pictures.”
“No time for pictures,” I said. “And I’m not photogenic at all,” I added, which was true.
“What in the world kind of car is that?” someone asked.
“The fast kind,” I murmured. All the better to get me out of here quick.
I closed the door and almost ran over some toes as I peeled out.
20
THE DAY WARMED, so I tossed my jacket on the passenger seat. I checked the bakery, the bouncy castle, Bryn’s house and mine. I didn’t spot Vangie or her Bentley. I chatted with my neighbors. None of them had seen her. I frowned.
She could still be okay. Maybe she went back to Dyson.
I checked in with Jackson. He hadn’t found her either. My heart sank a little. The more time that passed without her turning up, the more sure I became that something bad had happened to her. In Bryn’s car, I shoved the sleeves of my jersey up, feeling flushed. Maybe we were going to have a heat wave. I hoped so. I was tired of the cold.
I drove to the edge of the woods where I’d had to leave my car. The car itself was gone. My brows rose and I looked around. Had my car been stolen? Who would steal a dented Ford Focus with a flat tire? More likely someone had seen it and called Floyd, the local mechanic, who’d towed it to his garage. I grimaced at the thought of what towing, tire change, and bodywork would cost me. I should really think about buying a different vehicle. Maybe something from army surplus, like a rusted old tank. I bet a tank’s tread would stand up against bullets, arrows, and most things that my enemies could throw at it. Yeah, a tank would be a really smart way to go. I wondered what used ones cost.
The sun beat down on my head. I walked into the woods. The trees were quiet and still. Sleeping maybe? Did trees sleep during the day? I wasn’t sure about that.
Despite the shade, my clothes were warmer than oven mitts holding hot cookie sheets. I tugged at the collar of my shirt.
“Something isn’t right,” I said, hurrying farther into the woods. “Trees, you there?” I asked. Not a whisper. Instinct made me turn toward the river. A sharp pain ran through my middle.
“Ouch,” I yelled, falling to the ground. I rolled and writhed in pain. It was like I’d been skewered with a hot poker. The cuffs of my jeans burst into flames.
“Hey,” I screamed, flapping my legs against the ground and heaping dirt on them. The flames died out, but my clothes were searing hot. I jerked off the shirt, toed off my shoes, and shoved my jeans down. The clothes caught fire again, and I kicked the jeans away and yanked off my socks.
My skin sizzled as I got up and ran toward the brook. I literally dove into it as my bra caught fire. I landed belly down and slid several feet. The cool mud soothed me. No wonder fancy spas can charge so much for mud baths.
Water steamed and rose in humid protest. I half swam, half dragged myself farther downstream to where the water could cover my whole body. When strands of hair burned against my back, I flipped over and dipped my head underwater.
The water around me bubbled and boiled, and I was afraid my skin itself might catch fire. Deep in my body, my organs warmed like they were being baked.
I lifted my head, gasping, and grabbed a tree root so I could dig my feet into the mud. My witch magic is from the earth and my fae magic is connected to it, too. At the moment, I needed to tap into any power that would keep me from being burned alive.
“Hi, Earth, it’s me, Tammy Jo,” I said. I wiggled as my panties sizzled. I dragged them off and tossed them on shore. Steam rose as they caught fire and burned in blue flames.
I don’t know what’s going on.
It might be a black magic spell.
If you could save me from it
That would really be swell.
I’m not exactly eloquent when I’m in a panic, or when I’m not, but I felt a difference right away. My tight skin still stung, but I didn’t feel like I was being pan-fried like a fish. I panted my relief and let go of the branch.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. The current picked up and I floated with it, dipping myself every few minutes to keep my burned skin cool. The water babbled over rocks and I knew by the sound that I was getting close to the place where the creek dumped into the Amanos River.
I’d have to get out soon. The Shoreside section of the Amanos River isn’t fit for swimming. The current’s too strong, and the river feeds into a big waterfall. Getting pulled ove
r Cider Falls and dashed on the rocks below is a good way to get your bones broken to pieces.
I climbed out of the creek, muddy water dripping off all my naked bits. I needed to find the clothes I’d taken off the night before, so I’d have something to wear out of the woods. I looked around, trying to gauge where I was in relation to where I’d been caught in the sack.
I jumped when I spotted a figure leaning against a tree.
When I got over being shocked speechless, I yelled, “Hey, turn around!” and tried to cover myself with my arms.
He smirked, not bothering to so much as turn his head. He was handsome and blond with tan skin like he’d just arrived from a week on a Mexican beach.
He also glowed golden in the low light. Not human, then, I thought.
“Here,” he said, flipping something toward me.
My palm shot out instinctively, but I pulled it back to cover myself. An etched disc of green and gold landed at my feet, and he said, “A coin for a kiss.”
“Not on your life!” I snapped. “You turn around,” I demanded, shifting to conceal my private parts.
He raised his brows. “That accent’s unbelievable.”
“Not if you’re from Duvall, Texas, which I am.” I took a long step back. “Bye,” I said, and dropped into the creek with a muddy splash.
The water swept me downstream, and I thrashed until I caught an overhanging branch. I had no intention of standing around naked, putting on a show for a strange man, but there was still the deadly river to be considered.
The golden guy jogged along the creek till he reached me. His color wasn’t as unnaturally bright when he stood close, but his skin and hair still looked gilded.
He studied my face, stretching one leg behind him until he was down on one knee.
“Show me your left shoulder,” he said.
Considering what he’d already seen, a shoulder hardly seemed like much, but I resisted just to be contrary.
“I’m not showing you a thing. You go on back to wherever you’re from so I can get out of this creek and back to doing what I came out here to do.”
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