Shadows in the Mist: A Paranormal Anthology

by Kristine Cayne

  She screamed and twisted her neck, attempting to seek him out as she fell, gravity dragging her helplessly down. Instinct made her close her eyes. She waited for the pain of impact but the rope pulled her up short.

  Her lids flew open in time to see debris fly in all directions. Tossed around like a rag doll, her stomach lurched and bile burned her throat. The boat fell back down on the surface and the displaced water flooded the decks, spraying Cindi with its cool brine. The hull teetered on the rocks below before it leveled out. She landed hard onto the deck and knocked her jaw. Dazed, she vaguely heard Marc cuss from somewhere behind her.

  “Cindi,” he said, warm hands on her cheek, his face close. “Are you all right?”

  She tilted her head to look at him and the relief at seeing him alive brought tears to her eyes. Staring into his concerned face, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and bury her nose in his neck. Instead, she rolled to her side and rose painfully to her feet. “A little beat up, but I’m fine. Is it vanquished?”

  “Not yet, we still have to take out the nerve center.” He stood and with a swipe of the axe, cut the rope that tied her to the rail. She turned to the stairs that lead to the captain’s cabin and raced up the steep staircase. Door ajar, the room appeared empty.

  Marc moved past her to the console.

  The captain emerged from a back room, her face marred with soot and sweat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “This will seem crazy, but the ship is possessed and the only way to save our lives is to kill the engine,” Marc said, finger on the red kill switch.

  “That one doesn’t work,” the captain bit out. “Damned, Zan. He’s always sending trouble my way. I don’t want to have anything to do with his new age, voodoo bullshit.”

  The comment stunned Cindi. Was it possible Marc’s cousin practiced magic? Or more likely, magic ran in Marc’s family as she had suspected all along. It would explain why Blain invited him to the dig. Regrettably, she didn’t have time to dwell on the subject. They had a crab to annihilate.

  “I’m really sorry. We have to destroy the ferry. It’s the only way. Can you help?”

  The captain moved to a back stairwell, her face grave. “Come with me.”

  Water soaked the boiler room floor and the engine sputtered as if it were trying to return to life. The kill switch on the wall opposite where they stood seemed a mile away. If not every conceivable surface had been covered with crabs, disabling it would have been anti-climactic. Hundreds of black eyes turned to them and a blanket of crabs rushed forward. Cindi wanted to scream and throw up at the same instant. She forced herself to act instead. Taking a deep breath, she willed the water to boil. Marc wielded the axe and managed to knock the crabs off the steps faster than they came. The heat became intense and the crabs slowed. Their shells turned a dull red as the water boiled them alive.

  Cindi reached into her backpack and pulled out a small, green rubber ball. Resting it on her palm, she whispered to it. The ball shot into the air toward the red button and missed. “Damn it, my aim is off.” She called it back.

  In one fluid motion, Marc intercepted the ball, palmed it, and sent it flying dead center into the target.

  The engine died and absolute silence reigned. She shared a questioning look with Marc. Was it over at last?

  The captain’s shocked gaze traveled between the two of them. “Who are you people?”

  “It’s all right,” Cindi said, smiling encouragingly. “It’s over.”

  The captain looked unconvinced. “I understand, but why did it start to begin with? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know. The Guardia Costiera is coming. Meet me on the car deck.” She turned and fled up the stairs, muttering, “I’m going to kill Zan.”

  Cindi looked back at Marc, her stomach fluttering at the sight of him leaning against the wall, torso bare, muscled chest rising rapidly from the effort of fighting off the crabs. She allowed her gaze to skim his taut stomach, taking in the many cuts, burns, and bruises, marring his perfect form. The heat in the room seemed to intensify and she quickly raised her gaze to his.

  “Looks like we’re having crab for lunch,” he said and offered a relieved grin

  She stared at his mouth for a long moment and recalled the brief but memorable kiss he’d sprung on her. It had been over before it had really begun, but the instant his lips claimed hers, a spark had ignited. She pushed the memory aside and focused on the other issue upmost in her mind. “Why didn’t you tell me your family was magical?”

  “They’re not.” He winced when his arm brushed the burn on his waist. “We’re regular people.”

  “The captain is convinced Zan is behind this.”

  “Zan–short for Tarzan–not his real name, is a new age hippy who believes every mountain he climbs with his bare hands is a chance to commune with God and nature. The more dangerous the activity, the more in touch he thinks he is spiritually. In other words, he’s crazy. But he’s my cousin so I put up with him.”

  Marc was in denial, but she could sympathize. It hadn’t been easy to accept her gift. She stubbornly fought it at every turn. Now she wished she’d embraced her birthright earlier. Perhaps then, she wouldn’t feel so inadequate.

  Chapter 4

  Cindi shifted her position in the cramped back seat as Zan maneuvered the tiny car along the autostrada toward Torre del Greco.

  “I can’t believe you blew up Elise’s boat. Way to go, Marc. Now I’ll never get to fu… friend her,” Zan corrected, presenting Cindi with a sheepish smile in the rear view mirror.

  Her stomach fluttered the tiniest bit at his charmingly crooked grin. She could definitely see his relation to Marc in the shape of his amber eyes and his strong nose. Where his cousin was dark haired with pale skin, Zan seemed cast in shades of gold. While of similar height, Zan was equally muscled but more whipcord lean. Glancing between the two men, she practically smelled the testosterone oozing from every pore. If she hadn’t been half gob-smacked by Marc, she might have been interested in pursuing his cousin.

  Why not have both? A mischievous inner voice, so unlike her usual practical self, reasoned. From the way Zan had been blatantly checking her out, he considered her attractive. She certainly thought him fine. Why not go for it? Because I’m on a mission to save Marc’s life, not land a date. Why not do both? Once you save his life, you’ll have no excuse. If you can even save his life. Perhaps you should do what Blain asked and merge with Lilith.

  The car hit a bump and jarred Cindi from the ludicrous thought. Her focus should be on saving Marc’s life, not sleeping with him.

  “Me? Why do you assume I did anything?” Marc gripped the overhead strap, his elbow hitting the window with a sharp rap. “From the way she cursed you on our trip to Naples, she’s pissed at you a lot.”

  Zan raked his short blond hair with strong fingers. He passed a slower car, his golden gaze averted, and Cindi spied his reflection in the side mirror. For a split second, he appeared troubled. He caught her watching and his expression turned guarded. “What can I say? She’s a passionate woman. Why the big hurry to climb the mountain? If you hadn’t noticed, it’ll be dark soon.”

  “Since when has something so trivial stopped you?” Marc asked.

  “It hasn’t, but even I’m not stupid enough to climb at night simply for the hell of it,” Zan said, frowning. “What’s with you, man?”

  “It’s not for ‘the hell of it.’ It is, however, a long and complicated story, one you’d never believe in a million years.”

  “Try me,” Zan said.

  Marc shook his head, his stare drifting out the window. “I’d rather not.”

  Cindi followed his line of vision. The spectacle of the setting sun unnerved her more than his continued stubbornness. Time was running out. They could use all the help they could get. Using Marc’s headrest for leverage, she leaned in between the seats. Her fingers brushed his shoulder, the touch electric. One of the Guardia Costiera team that rescued them had gi
ven him a flimsy T-shirt. Too small, the white cotton stretched across his wide chest, the sleeves riding up over his deltoids. Fighting a mad urge to raise her finger and allow the tip to trace the indent of his triceps, she forced her mind to behave. “If you won’t, I will. Zan, do you believe in magic?”

  Zan twisted the wheel in obvious surprise at the question and nearly hit a couple on a scooter. He righted the car and his startled gaze meet Cindi’s for a split second, enough for her to guess the truth.

  Marc whipped his head around to stare at her, unbelieving. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The lines of strain around his eyes and lips spoke of exhaustion, which wasn’t unexpected given the dramatic events of the morning. Moreover, the day was barely done. In a few short hours Lilith would be destroyed. Or Marc would be dead. She pushed the unsettling prospect to the back of her mind. “I’m cutting to the chase. And don’t glare at me. He’s bound to figure something’s up once Blain attacks. The captain seemed convinced Zan is involved in some sort of voodoo. Is it true?”

  “Blain is your professor, right?” Zan asked, noticeably keeping his eyes on the winding road leading to Parco Nazionale del Vesuvio.

  “Yes, he is. And please, don’t change the subject. Do you believe in magic?”

  After a moment of tense silence, he cast a resigned look in the mirror. “I believe anything is possible; who’s to say what is real or imagined?”

  The road began to curl its way up the mountain where dense trees, lush and green, covered the hillside.

  “Marc has the gift for language, what’s your gift?” Cindi asked, watching him closely.

  Marc flashed another incredulous look at her. “I told you my family is normal.”

  “Remember how your parents always seemed to guess when you were about to get hurt?” Zan cut in. “Like when you broke your foot skateboarding?”

  “It’s called common sense. When I walked out the door with a skateboard, there was a 50/50 chance I’d get hurt. My mom simply warned me to be careful like she had a billion times.”

  “How do you explain her showing up only seconds after it happened?”

  “Are you trying to tell me she’s psychic?” Marc asked with a disbelieving laugh.

  “No, my mom is. The youngest of the family is telepathic. Mine sent her mental messages anytime she detected danger,” Zan said, his gaze meeting Cindi’s. She read reluctance and resignation in his eyes. “Only the eldest inherits the gift of premonition.”

  “My mom’s only telepathic? Well, now I feel much better,” Marc muttered sarcastically. “You’re the oldest. Are you psychic?”

  Zan’s cheeks colored and she wondered if his abilities embarrassed him.

  “I can sense danger.”

  “You can predict the future and you never told me?” Marc accused, his voice crisp and cold.

  “I don’t actually predict the future. As I said, I sense danger. Why do you think I’m able to do the things I do and not get hurt?”

  “Did you know about Blain?” Marc asked.

  Zan shook his head. “I guessed something was up with you. I’ve known it for a while. It’s why I decided to come to Italy. I didn’t want to be too far from you in case—”

  “In case I died?” Marc finished bitterly.

  “In case you needed me. And you do. I don’t know what kind of shit you’re involved with, but your life is in danger. Now please, tell me why?”

  “Why don’t you simply sense it?” Marc asked.

  Cindi absently fingered the amulet that seemed to maintain the low-key, steady vibration from her earlier trials. “Can you feel it right now?”

  Zan angled the car around a steep curve. “It’s faint, but yeah. I’m not sure if it means danger is coming or it’s waiting for us though.”

  A canopy of trees shaded the road and blocked out the sun. Cindi stifled a shiver at the sudden chill brought on by the encroaching shadows and tried her best to describe the situation with Blain. “You can understand why I need to get to the top of the mountain,” she finished, squinting when they came out of the trees. They were met with the dark gray lava rock from the crater, an overt reminder of the volcanoes deadliness.

  Zan looked skeptical. “To destroy a goddess?”

  Cindi felt Marc’s gaze on her. She turned to catch his stare and offered a weak smile of encouragement. “And to save Marc’s life.”

  Marc had been aware of Cindi’s hand next to his arm since she’d placed it there. The car had become cooler from the higher elevation but he swore waves of heat emanated from her fingers and penetrated his skin.

  Do you remember what it was like to kiss me, Marc? Her soft, sultry voice whispered across his consciousness. He couldn’t help but look at her, his eyes skimming the smooth line of her cheek to settle on her lips. Now imagine my naked body under yours.

  His gaze slipped lower and moved to the push of cleavage exposed by her position. Too bad, you will die soon, unless you can convince me to merge with Lilith. Only then will your life be spared.

  “We can’t take the car any further,” Zan said, pulling into the parking area.

  Climbing out of the car, Marc shook his head to clear his mind. Ever since they’d left the dig site, he had been waiting for the madness to set in, convinced every lost train of thought he experienced meant the emanate loss of control. He fought to keep himself in the here-and-now, to push aside the dread and panic and focus on the present.

  Zan rested his hand on Marc’s shoulder, startling him. “Damn it, don’t sneak up on me.”

  “Sorry.” Zan handed one of three thick wooden walking sticks he’d brought, the handles carved into a different version of the same intricately designed dragon. “I’m not sensing anything immediate, but that can change. I say we get a move on and fast. The sooner the goddess is destroyed, the better off we will all be.”

  Marc scanned the area, noting that the parking lot contained only a tour bus and a handful of cars. The faint scent of pungent sulfur drifted on the air. A trail lined with a wooden fence snaked around the mountain where clouds hung like ghosts over the rim of the crater. Tiny dots of people trailed down the footpath, back-dropped by the sinking sun. Everything looked normal. So far.

  “It’s supposed to be a half an hour walk up to the top. We’d better go,” Cindi said and fingered the amulet before she gripped the walking stick. Flashing an encouraging smile, she began to trudge up the hill.

  Marc lagged behind with Zan.

  “She’s interesting. Have you known her for long?” Zan asked, eyes sweeping her body.

  Marc felt an unexpected spark of jealousy at his cousin’s obvious interest. “She’s in my class. And don’t even think about it. She’s off limits.”

  “Ah, it’s like that.” Zan elbowed him. “You like her.”

  “It’s not like that.” Marc gazed out at the distant Bay of Naples and willed himself to absorb the beauty around him in the hopes of reining in his shortened temper. Every bone in his body felt as if it ached with exhaustion. Fear, however, rode his spine and pushed him forward. Any second he expected to be attacked. He fingered the gun still tucked in his belt. Would it even be effective for what lay ahead?

  Cindi’s slender shoulders tensed as a group of tourists rounded the bend ahead of them. A couple straggled behind, a little girl of about eight darting between. Smiling, the woman leaned into the man who looked annoyed by the girl’s behavior. He spoke to the little girl and she rushed to the rail that overlooked the steep hillside. Climbing onto it, she pointed to a place in the near distance and giggled merrily. Marc envied her childish innocence.

  “That’s not the way I see it,” Zan countered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Marc asked, unable to suppress the hurt and accusation in his question.

  “What? That I’m a freak? That we’re all freaks?” Zan ground out.

  The bitterness in his tone surprised Marc and cut through his anger. “You should have said something. I th
ought we were closer than that.”

  “I couldn’t tell you without explaining about your mom. It wasn’t my place to tell you she’s telepathic.”

  Marc settled his eyes on Cindi’s back, still trying to absorb it all. The breeze blustered stronger, the clouds heavier the higher in altitude they ascended. Her hair loosened from its tight braid and he pictured the curls down and falling over her breasts.

  My mom can read minds. It was still too surreal to believe. All these years and he had never guessed. Except how could he even conceive of an event so beyond normal? He mulled over the implications.

  “Ah, shit. My mom can read my mind,” he said, disturbed by the very notion. He hadn’t exactly been the poster child for the ideal kid. How many times had he thought he pulled the wool over her eyes by sneaking out of the house or worse sneaking his girlfriend into his room?

  His cousin had the audacity to laugh. “I don’t think she ever tried it on purpose.”

  Marc felt a knot of guilt at thinking poorly of her, followed by a rush of sadness. If they didn’t destroy the eye, he might never see her again.

  If Cindi merged with Lilith, she could make you immortal. All you have to do is convince her not to destroy the eye.

  The Guardia Forestale leading the group called out to them. “The park’s about to close.”

  “Thanks, we’ll be right down,” Zan lied.

  The group passed and the parents of the girl trailed behind. Two more men came down the path. From a distance, they reminded Marc of Laurel and Hardy, the old Hollywood comedy team whose black and white movies his grandfather watched. One was short and thin, wearing a safari hat, the other tall and stout with a baseball cap that appeared too small for his thick head. He lumbered along as if every step were a chore, his heavy arms dangling at his side.

  Cindi slowed her pace and her shoulders tensed at the same instant a moldy stench joined the rotten egg smell coming from the mountain.

  “What the hell kind of creature is it?” Adrenaline surged through Marc’s veins, pulse pounding in his ears. He clutched the walking stick and glanced over at Zan who appeared to be equally on edge.