By Denise Grover Swank
The Curse Keepers
(Urban fantasy)
THE CURSE KEEPERS
Rose Gardner Mysteries
(Humorous southern mysteries)
TWENTY-EIGHT AND A HALF WISHES
TWENTY-NINE AND A HALF REASONS
THIRTY AND A HALF EXCUSES
Chosen Series
(Urban fantasy)
CHOSEN
HUNTED
SACRIFICE
REDEMPTION
A CHANGE IN THE WIND (short story collection)
On the Otherside Series
(Young adult science fiction/romance)
HERE
THERE
Off the Subject Series
(New adult contemporary romance)
AFTER MATH
REDESIGNED
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 by Denise Grover Swank
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781477808627
ISBN-10: 1477808620
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013939859
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
To my son Trace, who always believed in the impossible. And still does.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was trouble.
He stood in the doorway of the New Moon restaurant, filling the space with his tall, slightly muscular frame and sucking the air from the room. Literally. As I focused on inflating my chest with the limited air supply, I tried to ignore the warning bells ringing in my head.
Always listen to your instincts.
My instincts had been honed by years of working as a waitress in a tourist town. You learn a lot about people working with the public.
From the beginning of May until the middle of September every year, my town of Manteo on Roanoke Island, North Carolina, was overrun with tourists. They came to see our quaint little town but mostly to see the alleged site of the first English colony to settle in North America, the Lost Colony of Roanoke. Everyone had a theory about what happened to the colony that settled on the Roanoke Island shores over four hundred years ago, from a massacre by neighboring Indian tribes to alien abduction. My family had their own take on what happened. A version I’d forgotten fifteen years ago, except for the very basics.
The late lunch crowd was clearing out so it was that rare period in the summer when we got a breather before dinner. Marlena seated the guy in her section, but I could tell she did so grudgingly. She tried to fix me up with any man who walked in the door without a wedding ring.
I nearly groaned when I realized that I’d checked.
I hurried out the back door and leaned against the building, gulping deep breaths as the brick pricked my arm. How can I be having an asthma attack? I don’t even have asthma. I’d never experienced anything like this before. No matter how much air I sucked into my lungs, I still felt short of breath.
After about five minutes, I got control of my panic and made myself go back inside.
Marlena had already taken the guy’s order, and he sat brooding over a beer, staring out the window onto the tourist-filled street. I only had two tables left and Marlena had rung both of them out while I was hiding out back. With nothing to do for the moment, I picked up a towel and wiped the bar counter in tiny, mindless circles. My chest felt tight, but my breathing was manageable. I must be coming down with a sudden summer cold. Finding a rational explanation settled my frayed nerves. Slightly.
“You rub that spot any more and you’re liable to wear a hole right through it.” Marlena winked. She seemed to be breathing without any problem whatsoever. “Someone got you shook up?”
I shot her a scowl, then looked around the small restaurant. No one else seemed to be having issues either. Except for the guy Marlena had seated. His chest rose and fell at a slow, even pace, as if he were concentrating on the movement.
A small part of the back of my brain screamed that it knew what was going on, but I shushed it, pissed off the thought had even crossed my mind.
The curse was a fairy tale. It wasn’t real.
“No,” I said to Marlena.
“Then good. I’m due for a break and the only one left in my station is that one.” She shot a thumb in his direction. “You won’t mind finishing up Mr. Hottie for me.”
I knew I’d gotten off too easy with her putting him in her own section. Shaking my head, I turned my back to the dining room, just as I saw the man give me a quick glance. “Nope. No way. He just sat down, and he hasn’t even ordered his food yet. You take his order, then take your break.”
“He doesn’t want any food, just the beer.” Raising her eyebrows, she lowered her face to mine. “He’s a fine-lookin’ man close to your age, and he’s been eyeing you since he walked in the door.”
“That’s what worries me.” But truth be told, that wasn’t all that worried me. My difficulty breathing worried me. The fact that this guy dredged up all kinds of ugly, terrifying memories full of curse nonsense, the kind that drained the life out of my soul—that’s what worried me. The sooner “Mr. Hottie” walked out the door, the better.
Marlena nudged me with her shoulder. “You should give him your number, Ellie.”
My mouth gaped, and I quickly shut it, glaring. “I’m not giving him my number!” I spat. “I don’t even know him. Besides, I’m dating Dwight. And tonight is date number five. Tonight’s the night.” I really needed tonight to be the night.
“Dwight the insurance adjuster from Michigan? You’re still dating him?” Marlena crossed her arms over her ample breasts and shot me a stern look. Marlena was an intimidating woman, standing nearly six feet tall with the body of a small linebacker. When Marlena put on that stern look, most people cowered in fear. Unfortunately for her, I’d learned she was mostly bark. But she still scared me a bit. I just tried not to let her know it.
I put a hand on my hip and tilted my head in defiance. “Of course I’m still dating him. Why wouldn’t I?”
To my surprise, Marlena refrained from commenting on my tumultuous dating history, despite the fact that she’d been forced to endure four years
of listening to me complain. Sometimes in excruciating detail. Maybe she was worried if she pushed too far, I wouldn’t give Mr. Hottie a chance. Releasing a sigh, she put her palm on the counter and leaned forward. “Look, sweetie…”
I groaned, rolling my eyes. Every time she uttered “Look, sweetie,” I knew a lecture was coming.
Her mouth puckered in disapproval as she pointed a finger in my face. “Don’t you be rolling your eyes at me, Miss Elinor Dare Lancaster. You respect your elders.”
Elders, my eye. Marlena was barely fifteen years older than me.
“I know good and well that Dwight’s here on a temporary assignment. Which means he’ll be leaving soon, and you’ll be all alone.”
“So?”
“So, give that warm-blooded American man over there a chance, Ellie.”
I pursed my lips, shooting a glance at the customer at table five. He took a sip of his beer and continued watching the crowd outside the window. His short-sleeved T-shirt showed off his muscular arms—not solid enough to make him look like a bodybuilder, but just enough to show that he was a man accustomed to working with his hands. Suddenly, my mind took a detour to forbidden territory, thinking what he might do with those hands. I shook my head to snap out of my stupor. It had been too long since I’d had sex, and I wasn’t entirely immune to an attractive guy. My defenses were weakening.
Sighing, I shook my head. “For all you know, he’s a tourist, so what makes him any different than Dwight?”
Something about my demeanor signaled Marlena’s victory, and she grinned. “He’s ten times better looking, for starters.” She thrust his bill into my hands. “You’ll thank me for it later. Now go.” Turning with a laugh, she walked out the back door, calling into the kitchen, “I’ll be back in fifteen, Fred.”
I studied the dining room after she left. People often lingered at their tables, seeking refuge in the air conditioning from the humid heat outside. Only two of the twenty tables were occupied: the table where the man I’d tried to avoid for the last fifteen minutes sat, and a table with an older couple in my station. The couple, obviously tourists based on their camera sitting on the table and their “Outer Banks” T-shirts, had rung out with Marlena. They studied pamphlets while discussing where to go next and ignoring their half-full glasses. I took a pitcher of sweet tea and Marlena’s bill folder and stopped at the couple’s table first. “Would you like a refill?”
The woman smiled, pulling her reading glasses off her nose. “Oh, no, honey. We were about to leave.”
“You all are welcome to stay as long as you like,” I said, shifting my weight, trying to calm my increasing anxiety. I was getting light headed and I fought the urge to gasp for air. My blood pounded in my head. The man and woman in front of me seemed fine. “No need to hurry off.” If they left, I’d be alone in the dining room with the stranger. Sure, Fred was in the back, but little good that did me.
The older gentleman stood and grabbed his backpack. “Thanks for the beer recommendation. That was the best draft ale I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’re welcome,” I forced out with a smile, my heart racing as they headed for the door. “Thanks for coming in. Have a great day.”
They waved as they walked into the summer heat, and I turned to table five, trying to force air into my lungs. This is stupid. He’s just some guy. Give him his ticket, and he’ll leave and that will be that. This has nothing to do with him.
But I knew he was different. Deep, deep down in the pit of my soul. One of the few things I remembered from Daddy’s story floated into memory, begging for attention. My shoe caught on the edge of a table foot, and I stumbled, sloshing tea over the side of the pitcher and onto a nearby table.
What in the hell was wrong with me?
The man turned his face to watch me. His dark eyes burned into mine. Marlena was right. He was an extremely good-looking man. His dark hair was closely trimmed and stubble covered his face, like he’d forgotten to shave for a few days. But the hint of dark circles underlined his eyes, giving him a weary look. He clutched his beer bottle, his knuckles white, as though he were nervous even though his expression suggested otherwise.
Alarms rang in my head again, my instincts pinging every nerve along my spine. I needed him to leave. Now.
I set the pitcher on the sticky table and took two steps toward him. The hair on my arms stood on end as though I’d become electrically charged.
What the hell?
The man’s eyes widened as he turned to me, his lips parting slightly.
I thrust the folder toward him from several feet away, and flopped it on the table with a dull thud. “You can pay whenever you’re ready,” I said in a rasp, the air sticking in my throat even more than before. My panic rose and I stomped it down, frustrated that after all these years, the fucking curse was the first place my mind leapt to in this situation.
The corners of his mouth lifted into the barest hint of a smile, giving him a ruggedly handsome look. I was sure most women around the world swooned at the sight. I, on the other hand, was close to passing out from lack of oxygen.
His chest rose and fell in heavy gasps. He was having a hard time breathing as well. It should have made me feel better. Instead, it made my near-hysteria worse.
Don’t let him touch you.
I took two steps back and put my hand over my heart. Maybe we were being overcome with carbon monoxide poisoning. Could you get that from air conditioning? There had to be some logical explanation what was happening to me. Happening to us. I just couldn’t seem to find it at the moment.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and hastily removed some cash, tossing it on the table. The hair on his arms stood on end.
My eyes widened in fear as he got to his feet. He took a step toward me and stopped as I backed into a table. His dark, almost black, eyes held my gaze. “I didn’t catch your name.” His breath escaped in short bursts.
My face tingled from lack of oxygen, and I felt dangerously close to passing out. The closer he came toward me, the more difficult it was to breathe. I knew I should move away from him but everything around me slowed, and I couldn’t seem to get my muscles to work. Not to mention I was trapped by the table and two chairs on either side of me. The hair on my head felt electrified. “I didn’t give it.” My words came out slurred.
His face had paled and his eyes moved to my name tag. He grinned, but it wasn’t friendly. “Thank you, Ellie.” My name sounded like the answer to a riddle on his lips. “Until next time.”
He started to walk away, then stopped, spinning around and grabbing my right hand with his, as though he meant to shake my hand. An electrical shock ran from my palm into my chest.
For one brief moment, the entire world seemed magnified and microscopic all at once. The room faded and I was no longer me. I was the waves in the sound off the pier and the clouds in the sky. I was an ant outside on the parking lot. I was part of every tree on the street.
Before I could marvel at the vast connectedness of the universe, I felt a tear in the veil separating the earthly world from the spiritual, and the screams of hundreds of things, ugly and foul, filled my head.
The man’s mouth opened, and he dropped his hold with a start. Stumbling backward, he hurried out the door, not even casting a glance back.
My lungs expanded, as though some invisible band around my chest had burst loose. I sank into a nearby chair and sucked in gasps of air. My head spun, grappling to make sense of what had just happened, sure that I’d just had a hallucination, further proof that there was a logical explanation. Maybe I’d been poisoned. Or drugged. People didn’t sense bugs or plants. People didn’t feel like they were one with the water a hundred feet away.
The door creaked, and I jumped out of the seat, worried that he’d returned. Instead, a young family entered the restaurant. The mother pulled off her sunglasses and squinted at my startled reaction. I forced a smile and snatched up the pitcher off the nearby table. “Welcome to t
he New Moon. You all can take a seat wherever you’d like. I’ll be right with you.”
I hurried to the back and washed the now dried, sticky tea from my hand, trying to calm down. Never in my twenty-three years had I experienced anything like that. Yet part of the story Daddy had recited since before I could talk echoed in my head.
“When the two Keepers meet for the first time, the seam separating the spirit world and our world will be ripped apart and the gate will be opened. Your chest will tighten, and you’ll have a hard time catching your breath. It will be as though the very air you breathe is sucked out of you. It is. The Keepers watch over the seam dividing the worlds. They alone will feel the tear. That is when the curse will be broken. Then God help us all.”
My palm tingled and I glanced down at my hand, gasping at the faint pink mark I saw there—but that wasn’t all. The outline of a square surrounding a circle, their lines intersecting, covered my palm.
“Once the mark of the Keeper appears, you have until the beginning of the seventh day to make things right.”
Oh shit.
I had to talk to Daddy.
CHAPTER TWO
Another rush hit within minutes of the man running out the door. It was as though he’d been keeping everyone away. But when I thought about it later, it was probably the two of us combined. He and I were polar opposites, like magnets when you try to stick the wrong ends together and they shove each other away. Not only could we not occupy the same space without repelling one another, but we flung off the people around us.
Until you flipped the magnets and set them right.
But then again, to my irritation, I’d hardly been repelled at all. Nearly suffocated, sure. But repelled? No. Marlena was right. He was extremely good looking, if only I could get past my sudden asthma attack. My reaction had to have been some kind of breathing episode exacerbated by my overactive imagination, because for some reason, he triggered a resurfacing of all the hocus-pocus I’d left in the past with my middle school Tamagotchi and *NSYNC posters.
The curse was make-believe and nonsense.
Still, something stirred deep inside, setting me on edge and making me clumsy the rest of the afternoon. What the hell had I experienced when he touched my hand? And how did I explain the scorch mark on my hand and the thing that looked like a tattoo?
The Curse Keepers (Curse Keepers series) Page 1