Chapter 21 – Celaeno
CELAENO
After eating a ridiculous amount of pizza, the three gargoyles fell asleep…
naked. Did I mention they were naked? They shoved the two queen beds together, and now they’re in a pile of naked, rock-hard goodness.
And I’m just curled up in a weird sundress one of them bought for me, with little song birds all over it, watching them and slowly eating cold pizza.
I seriously can’t look away. I want to lick every freakin’ inch of them. I want to run my hands along their tattoos. And the idea of sliding my hand down their naked chests and gripping those giant cocks of theirs… well, I guess I’m hungry for more than just food.
But I can’t bring myself to wake them up for more sex.
Or fall asleep next to so much hotness.
What happened—it still confuses me. Do these gargoyles actually care about me? Or was this about finally ‘getting some’ after being celibate for so long?
The truth is, I don’t know. I should be figuring out the bird problem and getting the hell out of here. So why does the idea of leaving make my stomach turn?
I toss my cold pizza down in the box and pad quietly to the bathroom and wash my hands. Glancing up at the mirror, I look away, then back up in shock.
Is that… me?
My hair is long and tangled. My face looks pale inside a face with too-big eyes. Despite all that, I’ve never looked prettier. Which is saying a lot, because I’m pretty sure I’ve never thought I was pretty. Ever.
But in the mirror? I look kind of… sexy. Or maybe feeling wanted by the three hottest men I’ve ever met has changed something inside of me. Either way, I like the change.
Smiling, I go back to my chair, but freeze. Near my clothes, Candy’s little wallet had fallen out of my pocket.
Heart racing, I kneel down. The phone isn’t working, but I find a courtesy charger in the end table and plug it in.
While I wait for it to have enough battery to turn on, I go through the rest of her wallet.
It doesn’t have much: a couple of credit cards, a folded twenty, and a business card.
For the candle shop we’d visited earlier.
I frown and stare down at it, flipping it over.
I feel bad, but for some reason I can’t imagine Candy in that place. Everything was overpriced and super girly, not at all like anything I saw in her place.
Maybe I’m wrong though. I didn’t know her. I didn’t explore her whole house or anything. Maybe her bathroom was covered in candles.
Or maybe my instincts are screaming at me because there’s something weird about her carrying around this card. I rub my forehead and exhale deeply. I’m getting tired. That’s probably all this is.
I’m about to stand up when I look back at her phone. Shrugging, I hit the power button and watch it turn on. The background is of her and her daughter again. It makes my heart hurt. What must that girl be going through, losing her mother at such a young age?
I open her messages and see dozens and dozens of unanswered texts. People searching for her. Scared for her. Asking if she’s okay. And then, I get to her old messages.
All of them are from men. Reading them makes me feel… slimy. Candy’s responses were always oddly professional. But their messages to her? Geez. What the fuck did they think? That because she was a stripper they somehow owned her body? That they could talk to her however they pleased?
Any one of these guys could have killed her for not returning their interest, but she said it was a friend.
Frowning, I keep searching until I see a woman’s name. Sarah.
I hit the message thread. I hate that my pulse starts racing and that sweat trickles down my back. This woman was indeed her friend. They messaged multiple times a day. And yet, Sarah didn’t text her after she’d disappeared.
People who had barely sent her a single message before had filled her inbox with their concern. But not her friend?
Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m wrong. But I’m pretty sure this Sarah is the killer.
But who is she?
It’s still dark out, although morning is just a few hours away. I’m exhausted, but I won’t be able to sleep until I know.
Leaving the phone still plugged in on the floor, I smooth the fabric on the weird bird-sundress and slip back into my shoes. Grabbing the key card to the door, I look back at the sleeping gargoyles. I don’t need to wake them. I’ll be back in just a minute.
Still, I have the unexplainable urge to kiss them before I go, which is silly.
Turning, I slip out the door and shut it softly behind me.
Instantly, I’m overwhelmed by the cold. It’s the kind that bites right into your flesh. And that feeling of wrongness I felt during the day? It’s about a million times stronger in the darkness. Even the horrible sour smell is so strong I’m trying not to gag.
I stare out across the quiet, empty parking lot, searching the shadows for any signs of danger. I see none. But that sense of wrongness? It’s only growing stronger.
Looking up at my birds, they still line the rooftops. Every edge is just them, standing like silent sentries. It hurts my heart. How much longer can they remain like that?
I long to touch my mind to theirs, to bring them some kind of peace or reassurance, but I remember the feeling last time. Gritting my teeth, I turn and head toward the office of the motel. I move slowly, aware how tense my birds are.
Reaching the office, I open the door and am thankful for the warmth of the heater. Behind the desk, a woman sets down her phone and regards me suspiciously.
“Can I help you?”
Shit, I should have planned this out better.
“Uh, yeah.”
I move closer to the front desk with its ancient computer and meet her gaze.
She’s young, probably in her twenties, with dark brown hair and light brown eyes.
Her attitude oozes off of every inch of her, and I have to remember that she probably thinks we’re roughly the same age. So, I should, uh, act like it.
“So, I heard about that stripper who got killed. Candy, was it?”
Her brows rise. “Yeah.”
“That’s got me freaked out a little. I can’t seem to sleep.”
She shakes her head and looks back to her phone, speaking under her breath. “I wouldn’t be sleeping in a hotel with those hot guys you showed up with either.”
I feel my cheeks heat and try to push back my embarrassment. “I just wondered. Aren’t you worried there’s a killer on the loose?”
She looks annoyed as she glances up from her phone. “Candy was a stripper. I doubt someone’s going around killing just anyone. She probably had it coming in one way or another.”
I have to curl my hands into fists to keep from smacking this bitch. “So, you aren’t worried.”
“Nope,” she says, eyes back on her phone.
“So all she did was hang around with low-life guys?”
“Pretty much,” she says, not looking up from her phone.
“And Sarah.”
Her nose wrinkles. “I wouldn’t say they had a relationship, even though I think Candy wanted one.
.. because of their connection. But Sarah tried to stay away from her, as if that’d make us all forget.
Like that’s possible. Sarah might be the Sherriff’s daughter now, but she’s just as trashy as her mom, and even weirder.
She’s just better at hiding it.” She gives an unkind laugh.
“Working at the candle shop. Getting good grades. Always obeying all the rules. Basically, just trying too hard to seem sweet and not at all a freak. It’s pathetic. ”
The girl from the candle shop is Sarah?
I sort through my memories of the sweet, blushing witch. There’s no way that’s Sarah, the woman I suspect of being the killer. It just doesn’t add up.
“What do you mean?” I lean in, as if exchanging gossip.
She raises a brow and sets down her phone down. “Sarah’s Candy’s daughter.”
What? “I thought her daughter was really young.”
After not being interested in talking to me at all, the other woman is suddenly excited to be able to tell someone new the story.
“Candy had Sarah when she was like thirteen, and Candy’s dad went to jail for impregnating her.
Candy gave Sarah up to be adopted by the sheriff.
No matter how hard Sarah tried to act like the perfect daughter, like her mom wasn’t a whore and her dad wasn’t her fucking grandfather, no one forgot it. No one lets her forget it.”
I’m blown the fuck away. A parent got his daughter pregnant and no one has any kindness or understanding for her and her child? People blame them? What the hell is wrong with this town?
And then there’s the other thing. Never would I have thought that girl was Candy’s daughter.
“Sarah must have been really upset when her mom went missing.”
She shrugs. “Not really. From what I heard, she was pretty mad that her mom gave her up but kept Elizabeth. I think she was kind of glad to see the girl getting her mom ripped away too.”
I feel sick to my stomach.
Could Sarah really have done this?
I think back to my meeting with her. I knew she was a witch. I just thought she didn’t know it. If she was powerful enough, she could do the ritual and create this curse over the town.
“Uh, well, thanks for telling me. I guess I can sleep easy knowing I won’t be murdered in my sleep.”
The excitement goes out of her eyes. “Yeah, but if I was you, I’d be gone by tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because the birds attacked another person today… so they’ve decided to kill them all tomorrow. The whole thing creeps me out. I don’t know what those things will do when people start shooting them, but if I were just passing through, I’d make a point to be gone by noon.”
My throat closes. “Thanks.”
I practically run out the door. Outside, gasping in the cold air, I am completely overwhelmed. I’m pretty sure Sarah killed her mom. But what do I do with the information in less than twelve hours? I don’t want to kill some confused, young woman.
But I also have to end this thing.
I have to give Candy justice. I have to let her soul rest.
But how?
I start back to my motel room. My steps sound loud on the pavement. Overhead, a light goes out.
Okay… that’s not creepy.
I keep walking, a little faster now. The lights above me keep going out, one after another.
My heart’s racing. Something’s out here with me. Something’s wrong, but I’m so close to my room, I try to make it.
My fingers are sweaty on my key card, despite the cold. I reach my door, slide it, and get a red light. I try again, hand shaking.
Something hits me from behind.
I feel myself falling. And then? Nothing.