String of Tears, page 15
“No,” he declared, his tone firm and steady. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“What is it then? What are you saying? Because it sure sounds as if you think I’m making this up.”
“I don’t think you’re making it up,” he stated, his tone still firm.
“What is it then?” she prodded, glaring at him. “What is it you think I’m doing here?”
He hesitated, then, with a nod, spoke freely. “I think you’re protecting yourself. I just don’t know how much you know about what you’re doing. Like how much you’re doing consciously and how much you’re doing subconsciously.”
“Or how much is being done to me? Isn’t that what you really mean?”
He searched her gaze, as if looking for something inside her, and then nodded. “Yes, that last thought occurred to me as well.”
“But Dr. Maddy already told me that she found no sign of possession,” she muttered. “So that still leads back to your thinking I’m just making it up, no matter how you disguise it with your unconscious and subconscious mumbo jumbo.”
“No, I don’t think that at all,” he disagreed, his tone firm and hard. “But, as I said, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on. I just know that something is.”
“Are you ever wrong?” she asked, as she sank back onto the couch cushions, now looking at him with a fatigue and a weariness that reached deep into her soul.
“Sure I am. … Sometimes. Just not very often.”
“Of course not,” she murmured. “That would be way too easy.”
“Nothing is easy about it. Being wrong in my work can be really hard, with terrible consequences. Being wrong can mean lives are lost.”
She stared at him. “We’re back to that danger again, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are. We can’t minimize the potential of this situation, and I don’t want you to take anything for granted. I don’t want you to take any messages, any voices, or anything else for granted because it could very well be the last thing you do.”
“Or else?”
“Yes, or else,” he snapped. “Or else you could end up being the next soul in a pearl and the next pearl on that string of tears.”
Chapter 13
Jewel woke slowly, feeling an odd, weird dryness in her mouth and a sticky scratchiness to her eyes. She blinked several times and then let out a half shriek.
Immediately Hurricane reached out a hand. “It’s okay. Take it easy.”
She stared at him. “What’s the matter?” she asked, and then she slowly sat up and winced. “Why am I so sore?” she muttered, and, then staring around, she cried out, “Why am I in the living room?” She turned and stared at him. “I went to bed last night, didn’t I?”
“You did,” he stated, his gaze intense. “I watched you go up the stairs and waited for you to fall asleep, before I crashed. You don’t remember anything?”
She shook her head and looked around. “No. … What time is it?”
“It’s five a.m.”
She winced at that. “Good God, that’s still nighttime, as far as I’m concerned, and not even close to a normal time to get up, so what am I doing up?” And then she glared at him. “Why did you wake me up?”
He gave a tiny shake of his head. “I didn’t wake you up,” he murmured. He was crouched in front of her, wearing only his boxers again.
“Do you always walk around without clothes on?”
He snorted. “When people sleepwalk in the night and it’s necessary to interrupt them, yes.”
She stared at him, her heart sinking. “Sleepwalk?” she repeated, her tone very low, soft.
He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Has that been a problem before?”
She slowly shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“When you say, not that you know of, does that mean not that anybody’s ever told you about?”
She realized he meant somebody who may have slept over with her. “No, nobody has mentioned it,” she muttered. “I’m not sure I even believe you right now.”
At that, he straightened up and walked into the kitchen. “That’s great, and you don’t have to believe me, but I sure wouldn’t mind an explanation.”
“Explanation for what?”
He stared at her and asked, “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember the part about my supposed sleepwalking? No. What’s going on? You seem to think that I did something or that you saw something you’re not sure about.”
“Oh, I definitely saw something,” he confirmed, leaning against the kitchen countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. “The question is, what did I see?”
She just stared at him, not sure where he was going with this.
He added, “Sometimes what I think I see is not always what I see.” She blinked. He nodded. “Yeah, that’s about how I feel right now too.”
With coffee dripping now, he turned back to her and added, “I get that it’s early and that you’re probably not ready to talk, but I am more than ready to get an explanation.”
“If I had one, I would give it to you,” she declared in exasperation, standing up. She gave herself a light stretch, realizing that she really was sore. “God,” she murmured. “I feel like I’ve walked to hell and back.”
He spun around so quickly that she took a step back, staring at him. “Whoa, whoa. What did I say?”
“You tell me,” he replied, his gaze intense.
“Just a phrase about feeling crappy. Feels like I walked to hell and back.”
At that, he didn’t seem to react quite the same way, yet he still stared at her, as if unsure whether she were serious or not. “So you didn’t mean anything by it?”
Her jaw dropped, and then slowly she closed her mouth, taking a moment to realize he was serious. “You really think I might have been serious about that?” She stared at him, frowning for a moment, dumbfounded. “Is that even possible?”
“You’d be surprised,” he noted, his tone hard. “The shit I deal with, even a simple phrase like that has all kinds of meaning.”
“Not with me,” she snapped, glaring at him. “I don’t know what the hell is even going on. I went upstairs to sleep in my bed last night, and I wake up, and I’m down here.” She tried to keep the note of accusation out of her voice, but she didn’t succeed, and his eyebrows shot up.
“So you think I did it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to think. What I do know is that I’m sitting down here in barely any clothes and freezing, yet you’re wearing less than me and are having absolutely no trouble with the chill.”
“What chill?” he asked. He walked over, took a closer look at her, put a hand on her head, and immediately frowned. Grabbing a blanket, he bundled her up. “That’s a reaction,” he muttered, “but to what?”
“Reaction to what though?”
“Just give it a minute.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on here.”
“No, I realize that. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she cried out.
“For making it sound as if you had something to do with this. I mean, I know you did, but I’m just now realizing that you really didn’t understand.”
“More riddles,” she snapped, glaring at him.
“Yes, to you, but really, to me, it’s just more questions.”
“I have never sleepwalked in my life—that I know of—if that’s even what you’re talking about.”
“That’s part of what I’m talking about but not all of it.”
By the time the coffee was done dripping, she felt better but still chilled.
“That chill worries me though.”
“Yeah, I’m not exactly feeling all that great about it myself,” she replied, wincing, as if she were getting worse. Her teeth started to chatter, and she looked up at him in pain.
He made a startled exclamation, set down the coffee, and, sitting down beside her, picked her up, and pulled her into his arms.
Immediately she felt a furnace of heat wrap around her. She shivered harder for a moment, and then the chills seemed to reduce to something almost manageable. Wrapped up as she was, she couldn’t talk, though she didn’t care about talking. The cold had hit her sideways to the point that she was almost numb.
He worked his hands over her legs and her arms. “You should warm up soon,” he muttered.
“I am. I just don’t know why or how any of this can be happening.”
He held her close but continued to rub her limbs. “We’ll give it a minute. You should start to improve soon now.”
And, while she was warming up, it wasn’t to the point that she wanted to be separated and sitting on her own. So, when he made a move to do just that, she clung to him.
“Easy now, you’re fine.”
“Says you,” she muttered, slowly separating, but, as soon as too much air was between them, she started to shiver again. Immediately he wrapped her back up and held her close.
When the shivering finally slowed down to the point that she thought it safe to move, she muttered, “I think I’m okay now.”
“I don’t think you’re okay at all, but I agree that we can probably try to separate again and see how it goes.”
And, with great care, he placed her on the couch beside him, then tucked the blanket around her shoulders and her feet and asked, “Can you handle a bit of coffee?”
She nodded. “I was hoping it was still hot.”
“If not, we’ll get some fresh.” When he held it out to her, he suggested, “This is probably about the right temperature now, so you can drink it right away.”
And, with that, she stuck out a hand from under the covers and reached for the cup, immediately taking a sip. As soon as the hot brew hit her throat, she felt the warmth sliding through her. “Oh, Lord, that feels so good.”
He just nodded and kept a worried gaze on her.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, hating that look in his eye.
“Sure you are,” he stated, with a confidence that he obviously didn’t feel.
She gave him a wry look. “Guess this doesn’t normally happen on your other cases, huh?”
He shrugged. “Well, there are cases, and then there are cases.”
“Another time it’d be fascinating to hear all about that,” she noted, with an eye roll, “but right now doesn’t feel like a good time.”
“Of course not. Some of it is pretty freaky, and, right at this moment, you’re talking to people who aren’t here, and you’re getting chills, and you have no clue what is happening in that head of yours.” She glared at him, and he smiled. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“I know,” he added, with a chuckle. “That’s partly why this is so interesting.”
“Yeah, not for me,” she declared, “and it shouldn’t be for you either.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “It is what it is. What we have to do is figure out what the heck is going on here and see if we can’t get some answers to free you from whatever this energy is doing to you.”
“Free me?” she asked, her gaze narrowed.
“It would appear that, in some way, you are quite seriously affected by this energy—or else it’s a reaction to your movements in the night.”
“Yeah, you keep bringing that up, but I don’t know just what it is you think I have done.”
He nodded. “When you’re a little warmer, I’ll show you.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, show me? What did I do?”
“Nothing too crazy,” he replied carefully. “But considering we went to great lengths to not encourage this energy, it is a little disconcerting that you felt that you could go change things in the middle of the night.”
She just shook her head at him. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I know that, to you, I’m not making any sense at all. I do get that. Drink your coffee, and let’s get you back, so you’re feeling a little more normal, and then I’ll show you.”
Hearing his words, she quickly gulped down the coffee, her mind trying to figure out what had gone on. The memories were blank, just a smoky vision of nothing, as if she had walked forever though. Her legs were sore. Her arms were tired. She looked over at him. “I seriously feel like I did one of the hardest workouts or hikes in my life during the night, and everything hurts.”
He nodded. “That is often the case with energy work, particularly if you’re fighting against something.”
Her gaze widened at that. “I wish all of this wasn’t gobbledygook to me.”
“Now we’re back to the fact that I’m not sure it truly is gobbledygook for you.”
She shook her head. “That implies that I’m deliberately trying to fake something.”
“No, it doesn’t, not at all,” he argued, “but you had the foresight to contact Stefan.”
“You keep bringing that up too,” she stated, looking at him. “And I keep telling you that I didn’t know anything about Stefan. I just … He was an expert, a number to call, somebody to talk to.”
“But the right number to call, the right somebody to talk to.”
“Surely he has a word for that, like maybe I was fated to contact him or something.”
“He definitely has words for that, and he does send out a transmitter message to help anybody in need, to have them come to him so that he can help, since so little exists in this way of assistance.”
“Yeah, you’re not kidding,” she agreed, with feeling. “You’d have to be absolutely nuts to have anything to do with this stuff. Did you ever ask him if he had any dealings with me before that?” she asked curiously.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t suppose I did. Not clearly anyway.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe I have a history with him that I don’t remember right now because of whatever happened to me.”
“Yeah, being found out on the highway, alone, naked, and dead? That part’s freaky too.”
She stared at him. “That alone should exonerate me from any culpability in this. Yet it does feel like it’s got to be related somehow.”
“Somebody helped you do that or somebody did that to you.” She slowly straightened, glaring at him, and he winced. “Okay, my bad, that wasn’t a great turn of phrase.”
“Helped me to do this?” she asked in an ominous tone.
“I really didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“How else could you possibly mean it?” she asked, staring at him in shock. “Do you truly think I had something to do with this? With these pearls, with the women, with me found dead on the side of the road?”
“No,” he stated, his voice clipped and clear. “I don’t.”
She pulled away and stared at him. “I don’t even know what to think about what you just said, but believe me. I don’t trust anything you have to say right now because of it.” She sank back into the corner of the couch, closed her eyes, and sipped her coffee. When she was done, she stood, and, still slightly cold, she stated, “Okay. What did I do? Show me.”
He looked at her and then nodded. “Fine, let’s go look at the safe.”
“The safe?” She stared at him. He nodded again. She turned to look at the drywall, leaning on the floor. “Why did you open it?” she asked in confusion.
At that, he shook his head. “I didn’t. You did.”
“I did not,” she snapped at him. “We decided it was safer to have the necklace and bracelet apart and intentionally locked that necklace in the safe.”
“Oh, I know,” he agreed. “So where’s the bracelet then?”
“You hid it. You wrapped it up in something energy-related, and you hid it. First you thought it should be put into the safe, and then you and Stefan decided it would be safer if the two pieces were apart.”
“Where did I put it?” he asked, staring at her steadily.
She looked around and replied, “In the kitchen, didn’t you?”
“So go get it,” he urged her.
Glaring at him and not at all sure why he was doing this, she walked into the kitchen, went to the cupboard where he’d put it, and checked, stunned. “It’s not there.”
“No, it isn’t.”
She turned and looked back at the safe, shook her head, and said, “Oh, no, no, no, no, no.”
“Oh yes. You woke me up when you opened the safe, and you put the bracelet in with the necklace.”
She stared at the safe, walked over, found it locked securely, quickly opened it, and, sure enough, there in front of her was both the bracelet and the necklace. She turned to look at him in shock. “Not that I’m saying I believe you, but why? If I did do this, why would I?” He hesitated. She narrowed her gaze at him. “The truth, please.”
“I imagine it’s because the energy was too strong for you to ignore it. Whatever is going on, … you are connected, and these souls, these pieces of jewelry, they have a hold over you—in one way or another.”
“Why on earth would they want that?”
He shrugged. “If you think about it, they already got one thing that they wanted.”
“What’s that?” she asked, looking at the safe.
“They’re together again. More than that, they got you to do that for them.”
*
Hurricane had quickly separated the jewels once again, and this time he didn’t show her where he was putting them. She deliberately didn’t watch. Jewel had been quiet for the last hour, ever since she had closed the safe and returned to the couch.
When he refilled their coffee cups and sat down in her tiny living room again, he asked, “Are you okay?” He watched as a wave of furious color washed over her cheeks and realized it probably wasn’t the best question. “I’m not really sure how to phrase it,” he said. “I can’t say I’ve been in this position before.”
At that, she hesitated and then frowned. “I keep getting angry at you, and I guess I shouldn’t. Who in the world could understand all this energy stuff?”
“You have every right to be angry. Something is manipulating your world, but the question is, what? And I guess the bigger question is, why?”
