She pursed her lips. “There’s no such thing. You’re not unlucky; you’re not cursed.”
“I was born on all the nines, remember? The ninth of the ninth, nineteen ninety-nine. Maybe, I don’t know, in numerology or something, it’s inauspicious. Maybe I’m destined to be the unluckiest person in the world because of bloody numerology.”
“No. We live in chaos, and nature is random.” She shrugged her shoulders in a resigned motion. “Maybe it is your look. Just the outside, I mean. Maybe you need to come with me to my hairdresser.”
Margot’s hair was short and spiky all over. The only thing soft about her was her heart. “Thanks, but I still don’t think that would work. If Martin would let me, I’d get my nose pierced.”
She let out a soft chuckle. “Well, if there is such a thing as a curse, I hope it’s over now. Maybe that Danish guy squashed it when he crushed that last attacker.”
My heart thumped at the mention of Alex Sorensen. I’d been trying not to think of him. It was a rabbit hole I didn’t really want to fall down right now. I mentally squashed the out-of-control feeling and took a deep breath, resolving to be optimistic. “Hopefully.” I gave Margot a smile. “In any case, if our universe is all statistics and chaos, then I guess, statistically, I’ve had my fair share of drama. Maybe it will be smooth sailing for me from now on.” I put my tea down on the little table beside me and stretched out, trying to give her the impression that I was relaxed.
It was working, just a little. She smiled at me warmly. “So, what are you planning for your night off?”
“Nothing. Watch a little TV, maybe. I’ve got a great book that Dale loaned me. And I’m going to walk the Jagera trail as soon as this rain stops.” It was a beautiful, well-trodden path through the valley floor of the forest, crossing the Nara River in two places. It only took forty-five minutes to get around, and it was unbelievably gorgeous at night. It probably sounded like madness, a trail walk in the darkness, but I had a great head-lamp and the path was well marked. I’d be the biggest predator out there, so I didn’t worry about the wildlife. And I was used to trekking the paths around Revelations at nighttime. It was one of the perks of being a night owl; nature was just a little bit extra in the dark. There was an intensity, a wildness, that you didn’t get in the light of day.
“Wear your wet-weather gear,” Margot advised. “It will be muddy out there. Gumboots and beacon, please.”
“Okay.” I grinned at her as she got up and rubbed my head affectionately.
“Have a great night. Wake me up if you need to.”
“I will.” She went through the sliding door soundlessly and was soon lost in the darkness of the hallway on her way to her room and her bed.
I wasn't afraid of being alone. The solitude out here was so soothing to me, in the same way it was for Margot. It was only people that were the scary things, and the only people out here were mad artists and harmless old hedge witches.
I snuggled down in my seat a little farther, looking out into the darkness of the trees. The rain was still hitting the canopy, showing little sign of easing off. A walk might be out of the question tonight. I picked the book that Dale gave me off the table and flicked to the last page I’d read. Dale was a pretty dedicated fantasy nerd; he loved anything with elves and dwarfs and swords, so this book he’d loaned me was typical for him. I loved a bit of escapism, and it was a hefty novel. I settled into my chair, pulling my feet up underneath me. It was still warm enough for me not to need a blanket, but I pulled one over me anyway. I soon got lost in the story.
After an hour or so, my conscious mind gave me a tickle, bringing me out of the novel and back to reality. It was pitch-dark, not even midnight yet. The night was still young. But nevertheless, I was slightly unsettled. I looked out toward the trees, and of course saw nothing. There were still soft thwaks where the raindrops hit the leafy canopy. The leaves rustled and branches crackled with the wind. But I’d heard a noise, incongruent to the nighttime nature sounds around me. A soft sigh, maybe. An exasperated hiss.
Did I imagine it? My brain tried to rewind, to recapture the sound again. But I couldn't be sure.
I got out of my chair slowly and walked toward the railings. It was indeed still raining softly; fat drops hit my skin, ice-cold against the heat of my body. It heightened my senses, flooding my body with a warning.
Was there something out there?
For a moment, I considered waking Margot up. But I stood still on the balcony for a full minute, staring out into the darkness, and heard nothing else.
I wrote it off as a figment of my imagination. It could have even been a possum having an asthma attack.
I wasn’t usually this jumpy out here; my cowardice annoyed me. I glanced down at the hefty novel, mentally blaming it for my unsettled behavior. With a huff, I gathered up my book and blanket, and went into the small sitting room just off the kitchen.
I switched on the TV and channel-surfed for a while, eventually going back to my book.
I wasted away a few hours like that, in between trips to the fridge for a sandwich and to the pantry for a packet of chips. In the small hours of the morning, I decided to head out and walk the trail.
I shrugged on my raincoat and gumboots, and dug into my closet for my headgear. The lamp was big and weighed my head down a little, but it was much easier than carrying a heavy torch with me. And my hands were free in case I tripped on something or slipped on the wet panels of the bridge.
It was still raining; the clouds blotted out the sky completely. There was no light at all, apart from the one strapped onto my head. I was used to it, though. Even in the daytime, the thickest parts of the forest of the valley didn’t let in much in the way of sunlight.
I stepped lightly down the outside steps, not wanting to wake Margot, and followed the path down the side of the house. The previous owner had cut a clear walkway down to the trail. I pushed open the little gate at the edge of the property and slunk through the low trees and bushes to find the graveled path.
The path was well maintained. Even though I barely ever met any of the residents of Jagera on the trail, the collective love of nature was something we all shared. There was an unspoken agreement that we’d pull up weeds and move fallen branches if we came across them on the path. That way, we stuck to our lane and didn’t disturb any of the surrounding nature.
The trees hugged around the path like a tunnel; in some places they were so tall it was like being in a green cathedral. At night, your eyes can play tricks on you. Sturdy trunks became marble-carved pillars; dark-green ivy dripping from the canopy could be stone gargoyles.
I walked fast, though, feeling the need to get my heart rate up. I hit the valley floor and came to the first crossing of the Nara. The bridge was high at this crossing, and you could hear the river before you saw it. The river was swollen because of the rain. Usually it was calm, fast-moving, water. The rain had turned the current turbulent, and it splashed over rocks and churned white on the surface.
I paused for a minute on the bridge, feeling the thump of my heart and soaking up the atmosphere of the rushing water.
I kept on, flashing my light over the close-packed trees, and started my ascent up the valley floor. My legs started to burn as I headed uphill. I relished the exercise and pushed harder, my breath coming in short pants as I crested the hill.
There was a small lookout at the top, a slight bulge in the landscape that popped out of the treeline. I climbed the hill and looked toward the sky. I’d passed many hours up here when the moon was bright. Stargazing was the perfect way to lose yourself for a few hours. But now the clouds were thick-packed, there were no stars to see, so I turned back toward the trail.
I’d just headed back toward the second crossing of the Nara when I heard a noise. It sounded like a short cough of laughter. I stopped in my tracks and cocked an ear to listen, mentally running through a list of animals that could have made that noise but coming up with nothing.
I stayed a
s still as I could for another full minute, but I heard nothing else. Of course, it was nothing. It would be getting closer to dawn now; not even the eccentric weirdos that lived around here would be walking the trail at this hour.
Nevertheless, I felt a shiver. It was strange; it wasn’t fear, just an odd… expectation. An excitement, a weird butterfly feeling in my tummy.
It was a weird feeling I’d never felt before.
I kept on through the path, crossing the Nara again and the smaller bridge. The river ran smoothly here; the water was deep, it was swift and dark, a lot quieter than before. There were a few tree frogs hanging around near the base of the bridge; I watched them for a moment, marveling at their bright-green color. They stood out like beacons under my torch.
I started out again, heading back up the hill, almost completing my loop back home. There were no strange noises, no funny creatures, just the sound of my panting breath as I moved as quickly as I could up the trail. Just before I made it into the house, I felt that feeling again, that flickering in my tummy, but I brushed it off and went indoors.
I resolved to go to bed just before daybreak; it would be nice to catch up on my sleep, considering it had been bad lately and plagued by nightmares. And no doubt, I’d have more. I hadn’t given much thought to my dream from last night, the killer that was stalking me. He was so physically different from the man who had actually attacked me at Revelations, and he was no one I actually knew, so I tried to put his face out of my mind. But it came back now as I slipped on my little sleeping shorts and singlet and ran a cold washcloth over my face in lieu of a shower.
I was sure he was no one I knew, just someone my brain put together. Maybe he was a composite of a lot of white men I knew. He was very pale, with sandy hair and red-veiny cheeks. I remember him being sinewy, with lots of ropy muscle.
And I remembered the light in his eye. His determination to kill me.
Maybe I was cursed.
I slipped in between my sheets and put my earbuds in my ears. I had my favorite fairy tales on audiotapes; they helped me sleep when my brain wouldn’t shut up. I closed my eyes and listened to a dreamy retelling of Cinderella, losing myself in the story, and very soon I drifted off to sleep.
The smell of fresh coffee roused me; Margot was waving a mug under my nose.
“Afternoon, sleepyhead.” She grinned at me, looking smug.
I struggled to sit upright, and held my hands out for the coffee. “Oh, thanks.”
“How do you feel?”
I shrugged, then stretched my neck, pulling it slowly to one side, then the other. “Fine. Actually, really great.”
She smiled widely. “So, no nightmares?”
“No… I don’t think so. I feel like I slept really well.”
“I think you did too.” Margot’s strange, smug smile was back.
I stretched out my lower back, thrusting my chest out. It felt great. I felt great. “What time is it?”
“Almost five. You slept for a long time.”
I grabbed my phone and checked. I’d been asleep for twelve hours. “Wow. I must have really needed that.”
Margot fiddled with some of the jewelery I’d left on my bedside table, snaking my favorite necklace around with her fingers. “So, did you dream of anything?”
“No,” I breathed out and took another deep breath. It felt good to fill my lungs. “Not that I can remember. No nightmares, in any case.”
She grinned again. “Nothing you can remember?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “No. Why?”
Margot got up and gave me a wink. “You seemed like you were having a good dream.”
“Why do you say that?” She was being weird. It was making me suspicious.
“You were doing a bit of writhing around and moaning, just now. Good moaning,” she clarified, waggling her eyebrows at me. “The smiley kind of moaning.”
I felt my face flush. “Oh, God.”
“So you don’t remember your dream?”
“No,” I breathed out. “I don’t remember anything. I literally had the best sleep of my life, though.”
She smiled widely. “Maybe that’s what turns you on. A great sleep.”
I frowned back. “Maybe. But stop being gross.”
Margot walked to the dreamcatcher hanging above my bed and gave it a shake. “I was hoping you were having a sexy dream.”
Was I? I’d never had a sexy dream before. I tried to remember. Mentally, I retraced my steps back to before Margot woke me, and a face filled my mind’s eye. Piercing blue eyes, rough stubble, hard muscles under tan skin, the exciting, tantalizing scent of chocolate and fireworks…
I grimaced, shunted the vision out of my brain, and clamped my legs together. “Nope. I wasn’t having a sexy dream.”
“That’s a shame. I guess I was just hoping you would be… normal.”
“That’s probably too much to ask, Margot. You’re weirdly happy about this.”
“Of course I am. I only want you to have a normal life and be happy.”
“Again, too much to ask.”
“And having a healthy sexual relationship is something I want you to experience. It took me a while to trust someone, so I know what you’re going through.”
“But your tastes lay in the opposite direction to what mine do, which made it a bit easier for you…”
“I know. It was harder, but it was easier.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m happy that you haven’t lost your desire.”
“Okay, gross,” I muttered, my cheeks burning. “Just stop.”
Margot giggled. “One day, Peanut. One day you’ll feel balanced and normal, you won’t have to hide from male attention, and you’ll be able to fully participate in a loving relationship.”
“That sounds like a nice dream.”
“As nice as the one you were just having?” She winked at me again.
“Margot, stop! I don’t remember what I was dreaming about!” I threw my pillow at her.
She chuckled and scooted away. “Okay, fine. I’ll leave you alone. Get dressed, I’m taking you for dinner.”
“Capulets?” It was a cute Italian restaurant, our favorite. Which was lucky, because it was the closest restaurant to us, only an hour’s drive away.
“Yep. I’ve booked a table, so get moving.”
I struggled out of the sheets; they were wrapped around me. My face flushed again; I must have been writhing around a bit. I had no secrets from Margot, but I didn’t even want to admit to myself what I’d been dreaming about, let alone tell her.
After a quick shower, I got into a little dusky-pink sundress and scraped my hair up into a loose bun on top of my head. It felt better off my shoulders today; it was thick and heavy. Some days, I wondered if it would be better if I just chopped it all off. It must be easier to have short hair like Margot. Somehow, I sensed that rather than make a difference to the level of attention I seemed to get, it would only make it worse. I didn’t bother with makeup because I had to wear it every day for work, and it was nice to have a break. But I put on some of my favorite strawberry-flavored lip balm and smacked my lips together. I loved the smell. It reminded me of the perfect childhood I never had.
The car horn honked; Margot had no patience for dresses and lip balm. I picked up my little tan leather purse, threw my phone and wallet in, and rushed outside to the car.
We had a beautiful dinner together, sitting in the outside courtyard at Capulets, the smell of the citronella candles stacked around us keeping the mosquitos at bay. The wildlife was out in force. The cicadas kept up a cacophony of white noise, and there were two big lizards keeping us company by the railings, lazily striking out with their tongues when a bug came into range.
We had a brief argument about who would drive home—I wanted her to relax a bit and have a few glasses of wine, and she wanted me to do the same. I won because she was tired, and we ordered a bottle of red.
It did her good. I felt a pang when I realized how tired she really was; sh
e looked after me so well, sometimes I forgot she wasn’t some sort of superhuman. I prodded her a little about her work, letting her offload.
The ER was busier lately, she explained. Lots of psych cases coming in needing assistance. The mental health support teams were run off their feet, and of course, as soon as there was a violent incident, they’d end up in the ER all over again.
“I miss the days when it was just drunk British backpackers needing their stomachs pumped,” she sighed, scooping up the last of her lasagne. “These days, it’s not enough that we just patch up the bodies. It’s their spirits that seem broken.” She frowned, napoli sauce on her chin. “I can’t fix their spirits.”
“I wish someone could,” I murmured softly. “But wait.” I held up a finger, determined to keep it light. “Maybe there are not more crazies than usual. Maybe the backpackers have gotten better at holding their liquor so you’re not noticing them as much. Maybe the hospital is just short-staffed.”
“I wish you were right.” She shrugged. “Well, you are right; we are short-staffed. We always have been. But there are a lot more psych cases than usual.”
“Do you know if it’s just your hospital? Or is it nationwide?”
“I don’t know. I know that there are harder drugs on the street nowadays—some of them tend to trigger potential psychosis, so that might be it.”
We ordered tiramisu and talked about Gail, the woman that she’d been dating recently, a physiotherapist across town.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Margot declared. “And I adore her. She’s got a heart of gold, always thinks the best of people, just like you. But she’s a workaholic like me, so I’m not sure it’s going to work out.”
“Maybe she could transfer to Cairns Base.” I nudged her. “Or she could just move in with you.”
Margot gazed out into the bush, frowning, while she thought about it. I used the distraction to mop up the last of her tiramisu while she wasn’t looking.
“Maybe,” she said under her breath. She straightened up and looked directly at me. “Would you mind?”
Revelations: The Black Chalice (Revelations Series Book 1) Page 9