Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
A blood moon hung in the night sky, crimson-stained and foreboding. The moon of my birth, or so my mother claimed. She was known to be dramatic.
A gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the ground. I stood perfectly still, afraid that a single step would alert my target to my presence. The sound of crunching leaves told me he was on the move again.
I reached for my dagger, but it wasn’t there. What the…? All my weapons were gone. But how?
He caught me from behind and yanked me taut against him. Rancid breath filled my nostrils as he whispered, “You did not do as they commanded, and now you will pay the ultimate price.”
“The ultimate price?” I asked. “No discounts for frequent flyers?”
His grip on my arms tightened. “You will not be laughing when they strip the skin from your bones and allow me to feast on the marrow.”
“Is that considered a carb or a protein?”
A sharp object slid into my side. His hand clamped over my mouth, which would’ve muffled my cry of pain had there been any. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
To give them the satisfaction.
They would never know how badly they hurt me. How much their betrayal stung.
Still maintaining his tight grip on me, he pushed me toward a bright light. My whole body resisted.
“You will be next,” he promised.
I shrank from the warmth of the flames. No. No. No.
I couldn’t let this happen again. Wings fanned out on either side of me, loosening his grip. He released me and stepped away, swallowed by the shadows as flames danced around me. I opened my mouth, but instead of a scream, I heard a hiss. Then an angry cry. Claws poked my chest.
The smoke dissipated. Jinx sat on my stomach, making biscuits on my T-shirt.
I was home, in my own bed. Safe.
The pounding of my heart lessened as my body caught up to my brain. I stroked Jinx’s back. “I haven’t had that nightmare in over a year. Why now?”
It had to be Belinda. A woman murdered on my watch would certainly trigger bad memories.
Jinx sounded like she’d swallowed a small motor. It wasn’t every day that she purred. It wasn’t every day that she allowed me to pet her either. She must’ve sensed my distress while I was asleep.
“Good cat,” I told her.
She hissed and leaped off the bed. That was more like it.
I rolled to the side and glanced at my phone. Eight a.m.? How did I manage to oversleep with so much happening?
I snatched the phone off the end table and sat up in bed. I’d been wanting to make this call since the moment I met Gage, but I figured it was best to wait until a reasonable hour, which was now.
I tapped Justine’s name on the screen. Lionel didn’t start work until nine, which meant Justine would more than likely answer her own phone. I didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on this conversation.
“Good morning, Maya,” Justine said.
“Why did you call the Elite Division when you agreed to let me handle this on my own?” My brain fully intended to start with pleasantries, but my mouth decided otherwise.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Gage, the love talker from Savannah’s Elite Division. He came to see me last night.”
“Maya, are you feeling unwell? Should I call Dr. Adam?”
My head began to swim. If Justine didn’t send for reinforcements, then who did?
“I’m fine. Forget it.”
“What’s a love talker?”
“A Meemaw prank. Never mind.” If Justine didn’t request Gage’s involvement, then I didn’t want her to know there was yet another puzzle piece in play. Then I’d have no chance of solving this on my own.
“Learn anything from the visitors log?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.” In fact, it would be my next task in light of Gage’s assertion that a mainlander was involved.
“Call me the minute you find something. The board is breathing down my neck to figure this out before the whole island knows about it.”
“Believe me. I’m fully invested.” I hung up before she increased my stress level another notch.
I fed Jinx, then poured myself a bowl of granola and added sliced banana to the top.
While I ate, I reviewed the list of names from the visitors log.
Each entry identified the reason for their visit.
Saturday’s three options were all to see Neighbors, but one name stood out to me.
Laurel Oakes. Knowing Laurel, I found it highly unlikely that the visit was legitimate.
There was only one way to find out.
Laurel Oakes sounded like the name of a suburban neighborhood.
She was, in fact, an ancient druid who moved to Evermore a month after I did.
A woodcarver by trade, she was popular with Neighbors who favored wooden deck chairs and display animals.
Laurel was one of the few Neighbors who eschewed modern conveniences and chose to live in the “wilds” of Evermore.
Hers was a rustic cabin fit for a hermit in an area known as the Marshes.
As I approached the cabin, I spotted the silver-haired druid outside, attacking a cobweb with her broom. Her thick braid was threaded with a yellow ribbon. She wore denim overalls with a beige T-shirt underneath. Her feet were bare and sun-kissed.
“Need a hand?” I asked.
She lowered the broom at the sight of me. “My goodness, Maya. I haven’t seen you in months.”
“That would require you to leave your cabin.”
“True.” She set the broom against a chair. “Come in, duck. You’ll have to forgive the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Sorry, I should’ve called first.”
Her brown eyes softened. “Nonsense. You’re always welcome in my home.”
I followed her inside.
“Have a seat,” she said, then seemed to notice the cushions were covered with odds and ends. “Sorry, one minute. Let me clear a space for you.” She used one hand to sweep all the items onto the floor. “There we are.”
I stepped over the assortment of discarded objects and planted myself on the end cushion.
Laurel turned and sat in a wooden rocking chair opposite me. She tucked her feet beneath her and rocked. “What brings you to see me?”
“I’m in need of your wisdom.”
Laurel chuckled. “No need for flattery, duck. You know I’ll help you. Just tell me what it is.”
“It’s a couple somethings.” I played with a loose thread on the handwoven blanket folded over the arm of the sofa. “I’ll start with the easy one. Did you have any visitors on Saturday?”
“Visitors? Me?” She laughed. “Certainly not. Why do you ask?”
I withdrew a folded sheet of paper from my purse and opened it to show her the log. “This person claims to have come over on the ferry on Saturday to see you.”
“Rory Bell,” she read aloud. “They definitely didn’t come to see me. I don’t recognize the name either.”
“Any reason someone would name you but not visit you?”
“I’m as baffled as you are. I haven’t had a single visitor in the five years I’ve been here.”
I smiled. “We have that in common, then.”
“What did this visitor do to draw the attention of security?”
“Maybe nothing. I’m trying to figure it out, but I need more information.”
“Then I’m sorry I can’t give it to you. You mentioned multiple somethings. What else, duck?”
I braced myself for this part. “Ever hear of a dullahan?”
She nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately yes.”
“There was an accidental summoning.”
Laurel winced. “Oh, Maya,” she said, soft as her blanket. “This is not good news.”
“I know. Lydia gave him a gold coin to send him away, but not before he said my name.”
Laurel’s wince deepened into a full-blown grimace. “Then he’ll be back soon enough to claim what’s his.”
“That’s what he told me. I know he can’t be killed. Any workarounds?”
Her rocking accelerated as she considered the question. “There is only one way I can think of.”
I leaned forward. “Tell me.”
“If the dullahan says another name before taking your life, they take your place as the target.”
I collapsed against the sofa. Well, I wouldn’t be doing that. Even if I found Belinda’s killer, I wouldn’t trade their name for mine. That wasn’t proper justice.
“I didn’t say it was a way that would appeal to you, duck.”
“Is there really nothing else?”
“Not that I recall, but I can do some digging.”
“I would appreciate that.”
Laurel slapped her forehead. “Silly me. Where are my manners? I should’ve offered you a drink.”
“I’m fine, Laurel. I don’t need a drink, but thank you.”
She smiled. “Don’t tell Judd, but I have moonshine, if it’s that kind of day.”
“It definitely is, but I’d prefer to keep my head clear.”
“I can understand that. A dullahan is mighty serious business.”
“Unfortunately, he isn’t my only serious business.”
Her eyebrows inched up. “What could be more serious than your own life?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but a Neighbor died. Just between us, it looks like she was murdered.”
Laurel stopped rocking. “Oh, my. I hadn’t heard about that.”
“There’s more. Judd is missing.”
Laurel inched her backside to the front edge of the rocking chair. “I assume you cast a locator spell.”
“Meemaw did one last night. Only saw a black hole. No Judd.”
“That’s odd. Any theories?”
“Not at the moment.” Once again, I kept the fate-thread detail to myself. “I also had a werewolf sweep the forest for Judd’s scent, but he wasn’t there.”
“If he drowned in open water, you may never find him.”
“If he drowned, then he was murdered too. Judd isn’t a fan of open water. He only tolerated the pool because there are rules and lifeguards.” And because Audrina was a regular swimmer.
Laurel smirked. “He sounds like a fun time. The Neighborhood pools are impressive—don’t get me wrong—but swimming nude in the wild is one of the greatest joys in nature.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Her eyes creased at the corners. “You’ll loosen up as you age.”
I had a feeling Laurel was wild, naked swimming from the time she could crawl. Good for her. That level of vulnerability was a luxury not everyone could afford .
“Well, I can see why you’re in need of my assistance,” Laurel said. “I’d be happy to help any way I can.”
“If you could keep this conversation between us, I would appreciate it. I don’t want to induce panic.
” Many Neighbors experienced an increase in anxiety as they aged.
It kept Dr. Adam busy, as well as security and the HOA.
If someone wasn’t overreacting to a situation at any given moment, I’d question my reality.
“Is that why you chose to confide in a hermit?”
“Truthfully, no. I confided in you because you’re the oldest Neighbor and the one with the most accumulated knowledge.” I hesitated. “On that note, have you ever heard of the Elite Division?”
“The Elite Division of what?”
“That’s my question. I don’t know.”
“Can’t say that I have. Something else you’d like me to research?”
“No, that’s okay. The dullahan will take up enough of your time.”
She pinned me with a hard look as she picked up a stick of wood from the table and started to whittle. “We’re talking about your life, Maya. You’re worth every minute of my time.”
I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for Judd too. If he’s avoiding people and locator spells, he may wander into the Marshes. It’s a good place to hide.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Knox also checked the Marshes. Might as well let her feel useful.
In my discomfort, my attention shifted to an object that hung on the wall behind her. “That’s an interesting set of antlers. ”
Laurel didn’t bother to turn around. “That’s the headdress I wear during rituals.”
“Did you carve it yourself?”
“Not that piece, no. It was a gift from my predecessor.”
“Predecessor to what?”
She waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Those days are long gone.”
I was only a fraction of her age, yet I still knew the feeling. Decades sometimes felt like centuries, that’s how long ago they seemed.
“The Marshes must pale in comparison to the places you’ve lived.”
“I miss my place in the world more than any one place itself.”
“Your role as a druid?”
“Yes.” Her eyes misted over. “Women would seek me out for help. I’d tie a sprig of mistletoe around their wrists when they hoped to become pregnant. Then when they were successful, I would craft their cradles by hand.”
There were no babies on the island. No pregnant women. No women of fertile age either, with the exception of myself and a couple other staff members.
“You miss it,” I said.
“I adored my role in the world. Guiding women through such a joyous and sometimes challenging time in their lives. It was important work.”
“What about the women who couldn’t bear children, or chose not to?”
“I view women as more than vessels, if that’s what you’re hinting at. After all, I’m a woman who chose not to bear children of my own, and I deem myself important and worthy in this world. Does that answer your question, duck? ”
“Yes,” I said, feeling uncomfortable. This exchange was why I avoided personal conversations. I would either learn more than I had a right to know, stick my foot in my mouth, or open myself up to scrutiny I couldn’t afford. “I should go. Thanks for the help.”
“Take this.” She reached to the floor beside the chair and offered me a stick with a ribbon tied into a bow.
“Rowan?”
She nodded. “Hang it above your front door.”
“It won’t help me get pregnant, will it?” I joked. No chance of that, with or without sprigs of mistletoe, unless the time was ripe for another immaculate conception.
“It will keep you safe while your attention is focused elsewhere.”
I recalled Gage’s comment about the Neighbors’ safety. “You think I’m in danger?”
“A Neighbor is dead, your boss is missing, and you have a dullahan waiting to claim your soul. You need more than a stick. You need the whole tree.”
I accepted the stick with a pang of regret. “I already let Belinda down. I have to find Judd.”
“You can’t find him if you’re dead. If you haven’t warded your house, I’d do it today. Your office too. I’ll tell you what I used to tell my new mothers. You need to take care of yourself first, then worry about others.”
“That sounds selfish.”
“Not selfish, duck. Think of it as practical. Pragmatic even. The whole oxygen mask analogy.”
“Because there’s only one security person available to handle a crisis?”
“No, duck. Because there’s only one you .”