Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2)

by Bronwyn Archer

  “Shoot me and they’ll know it’s not a suicide,” I said.

  “The rocks and the sharks will take care of destroying the evidence. You can jump, or I will shoot you, and it will hurt.” I took another step backwards.

  “Mother, STOP!” Cressida shrieked. But she made no move to stop her.

  Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards.

  “Georgette!” My voice caught and I struggled to breathe as the adrenaline surged. I dropped to my knees at the tip of the point and pressed my hands together and prayed. “Show me your face, Georgette, let me hear your voice! Help me, one more time, please!” My last words came out as a strangled rasp. Ramona strode over and kicked me in the stomach. I rolled to the side and looked down. My head was dangling off the edge. A few pieces of thin, rusted pipe jutted out of the sheer rock wall just below my head. Down below, white caps blasted against the jagged shoreline.

  It would only take a few seconds to fall.

  Cressida shrieked, “Mom, no!” but I barely heard her over the roar of blood in my ears. I opened my mouth to scream, but a sudden, strong wind rose up, pushing me away from the edge. An incredible, vibrating warmth swept over me. Ramona let out a blood curdling cry and fell with a force so great that she skidded all the way to the other side of the point. The gun flew out of her hand—by itself—and tumbled over the edge. To my amazement, Ramona seemed to be wrestling with something—an invisible force I couldn’t see. She had her hands up and seemed to be trying to grab at something in the air above her.

  Her mouth was moving, but the blood in my ears and the ferocious wind and the roar of the waves made me deaf. I strained to hear. The wind whipped the sand through the air like a mini tornado. Ramona’s face was contorted in a look of pure terror.

  Her jet-black hair had streaked white at the temples.

  A glimmer of dawn appeared in the clouds to the east, making it a little easier to see. A strange, lovely warmth flooded my body—a feeling of ecstatic joy.

  Ramona gasped and croaked, “No! No! I’m sorry! Please! Forgive me!”

  “Georgette, that’s enough!” I yelled.

  As quickly as the wind had started, it stopped. Everything went still. Ramona sat up, panting and sweating. Her eyes were wild and her hair had turned half white. For a second I thought she would run away in terror at what had just happened.

  Instead she let out a guttural scream and lunged at me. For a moment, we wrestled on the ground, and then the wind returned—this time an even stronger whirlwind. I watched in horror as Ramona was slowly blown to the edge—feet-first.

  But she had gotten her fingers caught in my belt loops. I was dragged along with her.

  I scrambled to catch something before we tumbled over. My hands caught the rocks at the edge but then I slipped, my feet unable to find a hold on the sheer cliff face. I grabbed at the thin, rusted pipes jutting out from the rocks and managed to grab onto one. It held my weight, but its sharp edges cut into my hands. My feet dangled free—I could barely scrape the cliff with my toes.

  I looked to my right—Ramona dangled a few feet away, her feet kicking in the air far above the sea. She had caught another of the thin pipes that stuck out of the rocky cliff—but not with her hands.

  Instead, she swung at the end of the dove’s thin platinum chain, caught it in it like a noose. She tried to scream, but only a guttural gasp emerged.

  I shouted, “Cressida, help!” Her face appeared above mine.

  My hands were aching and frozen. I couldn’t hold on much longer. Cressida looked at her mother, and back at me. Then she extended her hand—to me—and hauled me up.

  “I don’t know how I did that,” she said slowly. “You were so . . . light.”

  I scrambled over to Ramona and peeked down at her. She kicked helplessly.

  “I’ll try to grab her. Hold onto me and pull when I say.” I leaned forward. Cressida wrapped her arms around my waist as I leaned down as far as I could, but couldn’t reach her. “Ramona, give me your hand!” She swung around at the end of her platinum noose and stared at me. With a silent snarl, she swiped my hand and pulled. I tried to shake it free but her hold was a death grip. A few more inches and I’d plummet forward.

  “No, Mother! No!”

  Ramona’s body started to spin at the end of the chain and she let go of me to clutch frantically at her throat. The chain tightened. Her eyes bulged and her skin turned purple.

  “What-the-fuck!” Cressida gasped.

  With every turn, the necklace tightened. She started to spin around fast, and then faster. Her hair turned completely white from root to tip. Her body twisted one more time, more slowly, and then her eyes went slack.

  The chain snapped with a loud POP.

  Ramona dropped and vanished into the fog, along with the necklace.

  Cressida let out a guttural cry.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God!”

  “I tried to grab her. I couldn’t reach—”

  She stared back at me, her eyes crazed. “Maybe I should jump after her. My life could not get more fucked.”

  “No. We’re going home.”

  “Where is home?” Cressida wailed. “I cannot believe this. What the fuck just happened?!” I helped her stand up. Her eyes were red and swollen. She spontaneously hugged me and wailed, a gut-wrenching sob that seemed to emerge from the depths of her soul. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie. “The Ambrose curse,” she whispered. “It’s real, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wait—WHAT IS THAT?”

  I followed her eyes. Something hovered in the air just beyond my reach. Dawn was breaking behind us and a glimmer of light hit the tiny object. A thousand rainbows danced across our faces.

  I put my hand out, palm up, and the sparkling Dove of Justice gracefully floated to a spot right above my hand, and then dropped into it. It was cold. And dripping wet.

  I marveled at it.

  There was something silvery dangling from the dove’s claws. Something that hadn’t been there before.

  A tiny key.

  Cressida yelped, “Hey—what about your friend?”

  I ran for the flashlight. “Come on!”

  I led the way, flying up the trail in a mad panic.

  #

  I raced down the mountain. In the backseat of the Maranello, Cressida cradled Alexander’s head on her lap.

  Alexander moaned softly.

  “How is he?” I asked.

  “Still alive.”

  “Keep putting pressure on his wound.”

  “Is he, like, your boyfriend?” she asked.

  “Sort of. Let’s see how he feels after I almost got him killed. Again.”

  We were quiet as I sped down the windy Marin roads. My hands were numb and it took all my strength to hold onto the steering wheel.

  “Did she really kill your mom?” she asked. Her voice was a low monotone, like she was stoned. Or in shock.

  “Yeah. There was a witness. Cressida—Eden can’t know about it. About any of this. Okay?”

  “You mean, about the fact that my mother killed your mother and her boyfriend and tried to kill you?”

  It was bad enough I’d gotten Eden’s mother killed. But I could still protect her from knowing who her mother really was.

  A monster.

  It’s not your fault. None of this your fault. Your only fault is that you survived.

  “Yeah, that. Eden doesn’t need to know—ever.”

  “Okay, Lana.” Her voice was calm and slow. “If it makes you feel better, Eden hated Mom, too.”

  “We’ll say your mom shot Jenner in self-defense when he came after me, there was a struggle, and he pulled her over the edge with him as he fell. Got it?”

  “Yep.”

  “You were high and don’t remember all the details.”

  “Partly true.”

  I blew through a red light and saw a sign for the emergency room.

  “We
also shouldn’t tell anyone about how the diamond around my mom’s neck flew back up the cliff and landed in your hand—by itself.”

  I cleared my throat. “Right.”

  “Or how the handcuff key was stuck in the little dove’s claw. Because I’m pretty sure Wade’s keys went down with him.”

  The Dove of Justice had indeed been clutching in its little platinum claws a tiny silver key.

  Which turned out to be the key to the handcuffs around Alexander’s wrist.

  “Uh, right. That too.”

  I kept my eyes on the road. It was too complicated—too crazy. One day I’d tell her all about the ghost in my family.

  She was silent.

  Then something brushed my shoulder. “Here,” she said, handing me a piece of paper. It was the yellow note she’d gotten at the police station.

  I glanced at it as I drove. “It’s written in French,” I said.

  She caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Oui.”

  #

  The police interviewed me at the hospital for three straight hours while Alexander was in surgery. Cressida was admitted and taken to her own room.

  One of the cops recognized me from the Victor yacht rescue twenty-four hours earlier. Finally, I could tell them the whole sordid story. They listened politely, but I could tell they were mystified.

  When I was done talking, the lead detective had one last question, “Help me out here—how in the world did an eighteen-year-old girl from Glen Ellen get caught up in all this?”

  Well, there was this curse. But I beat it. It’s over.

  “Just lucky I guess.”

  For once being Alexander’s cousin came in handy—since I was technically family, the nurses let me sleep on a cot in his room.

  I didn’t know how to reach his parents, so I called his office and left a voicemail.

  When he finally got out of surgery and settled in his hospital room, I curled up next to him in my stained, blood-smeared clothes and prayed for him to get better until I mercifully passed out.

  When I opened my eyes hours later, two well-dressed adults were standing next to his bed, peering down at me.

  I knew immediately who they were. I jumped off the hospital bed and tried to smooth my wild hair down while they stared at me disapprovingly. Alexander was fast asleep and breathing quietly. Still alive.

  “Mr. Ambrose? I’m your cousin, Lana Goodwin. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

  Elijah Ambrose shot his wife a furious glance. He had close cropped, thinning gray hair, wire rimmed glasses, and a strong jaw line. “You’re Tanith’s daughter? Helen, is this the one Alex drove to New York?”

  “Are you Lana? I’m Alexander’s mother, Helen.” She looked me up and down, horrified. “Oh my, are you all right, dear?” She was beautiful and elegant. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wore dark jeans, boots, and a pale gray sweater.

  “Sort of,” I said, a little too defiantly. “But I would never have survived the last few weeks if he hadn’t been with me.”

  “Maybe he would have,” Elijah snapped.

  “Elijah!” Helen admonished him. “Are you all right, Lana? The police told us a little about what happened. You must have been terrified!”

  “Alexander is okay. That’s all I care about.” I turned to look at him. Even pale and dressed in a blue hospital gown, his beauty made my bones ache. His lips were parted and his eyelids fluttered in his sleep. I picked up his hand absentmindedly and caressed it.

  Helen cleared her throat. I looked up and saw Elijah glowering at me. “Thank you for staying with him, dear,” she said. “I think we can take it from here. You must be dying to go home and see your father.”

  “I don’t have a home at the moment.”

  Elijah shot his wife a look. Helen nervously bustled around the hospital room, tidying things up and rearranging fresh flowers in a large glass vase by his bed. She stripped the hospital blanket I’d been using off his bed and tossed into a corner on the floor.

  Elijah stood by the window, watching me with barely concealed disgust. I squared my shoulders and smiled at him. I had no more fear—of anyone. It had all been tossed off the cliff at Point Bonitas.

  “Mr. Ambrose, I know you’re upset, but I would never do anything to hurt him.”

  He rolled his eyes. “He should never have taken you on that ridiculous road trip. It was completely irresponsible. And look what happened to him!”

  “He was just trying help me!”

  Elijah’s dark eyes glittered. “Oh, I’m sure he was. You’re just his type: rich—and an Ambrose.”

  Helen gasped. “Elijah, please!”

  My hands clenched into fists. I glanced at Alexander, who was blissfully still asleep. “It wasn’t like that. He’s not like that. He’s changed. You obviously don’t know who he is.”

  I froze. The last thing I wanted was to cause even more trouble for him. They were his parents—who was I? His sort-of girlfriend of a few days? I had to show more respect.

  Elijah stepped over to me. “I know exactly what’s going on. You claimed Georgette’s money, and now you want to claim our son? Even after he almost died—thanks to you.”

  I leveled a calm stare at his face, which was taut with anger.

  “I’m not claiming anything that’s not mine.”

  Helen cleared her throat. “Lana, I spoke to Gretchen. She said you and Alexander . . . had perhaps developed some feelings for each other. Is that true?”

  I knew what I was supposed to say. What they wanted me to say. But I had been through so much—I’d been through the hottest fire and come out the other side. All the lies and secrets of the past had been exposed and burned away. I felt physically incapable of speaking anything but the truth, ever again.

  It was the only way for me to move forward. To live.

  “She’s right. I’m in love with your son. And he’s in love with me.”

  Helen covered her mouth with her hand. Elijah shook his head, turned, and bolted out of the room.

  I walked over to Alexander and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ambrose. I just don’t want to lie to you. Not to you.”

  Helen pursed her lips. “Elijah gets so upset when it comes to Alexander. He raised him since he was a little boy, you know.” She sighed. “He only wants the best for him.”

  “I want that, too.”

  She looked over at her son. Her only child, whose life I’d endangered.

  “Then, Lana, you’ll understand why I have to ask you not to contact him ever again. Gretchen told me she invited you to the wedding, but it’s probably best . . . if you decline.” She had tears in her eyes and hugged me again. “You poor thing, I’m so sorry! You’ve been through so much. I know you’re not blood relatives, but everyone we know thinks Elijah is Alex’s father. If the two of you are together—it puts all of us in a very awkward position. And we just can’t see Alexander caught in another situation like the last one! It was so hard on all of us. Especially my husband. None of us can go through that again. You understand, I hope?”

  I didn’t say a word as I let her hug me one last time. Then she sent the final death blow through my heart. “Good luck, Lana. I wish you all the best—after all, you are family.”

  Stunned, I wiped my eyes and nodded. “All right.” I fled the room and nearly ran straight into Elijah, who lurked just outside. He cleared his throat. “I hope you find happiness in your newfound fortune.” His unspoken words in reverberated in my head. I hope you find happiness . . . without my son.

  On my way to the elevator, I stopped at the nurse’s station and asked for paper and a pen. I frantically scrawled a note, folded it up, wrote his room number on it, and asked a friendly young candy striper to deliver it to him after his visitors left. I told her it was urgent and had to be delivered in secret. She smiled and promised to do it.

  It was over.

  I walked out of the hospital like a zombie. There was no sign of Mar
tin Crawford yet. I’d broken the news to him—that his ex-wife and mother of his children was dead, and that Cressida was in the hospital in a state of shock.

  I still had to inform Ramona’s other husband.

  I got in my car and headed north to Glen Ellen.

  I’d also need my dad’s help to clean the Ferrari’s back seat, which was absolutely soaked in blood.

  Chapter 30

  Sinus Iridum ~ Bay of Rainbows

  The phone rang as soon as I stepped out of the shower. I hit the speaker button and stood next to the frilly four-poster bed drying off with a plush white towel.

  “Hey, Bernard.” Mr. Bannister and I were on a first-name basis.

  “Good afternoon, Lana. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but I wanted to let you know that escrow on your new house just closed, and I’ve transferred the balance in full. You may take possession immediately. The seller will meet you there Monday to give you the keys.”

  My new home was a sprawling ranch in the hills above Sonoma was once owned by none other than Jack London. The charming Airbnb cottage I’d been renting in the woods outside Glen Ellen was cozy, but after six weeks hiding out there, I was ready to start my new life.

  I squirted some jasmine-scented moisturizer into my hands and started rubbing it into my skin. “And the apartment?”

  “Severine will be informed of your gift as soon as I file the paperwork. You’re absolutely sure about this?” Georgette’s palatial Fifth Avenue apartment was going to Severine. She deserved it—and I didn’t ever want to step foot in it again.

  “Hundred percent.”

  “Very well. And, I know it’s a Saturday, but I’d like to go over the other totals with you one more time.”

  I slid on a pair of lacy black panties. “Fine, but if you don’t mind, I only have a few minutes.” I had to meet my date at the wedding soon—I’d barely make it.

  “That’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s see now . . . twenty-five million to the Hidalgo Family Trust.”

  “Correct.” I clasped the matching strapless bra behind my back.