Nightmare Hunt, page 10
“Demented,” Hagar murmured, backing away slowly.
Ignoring her, Violet reached up and touched the stinging flesh of her scarred cheek. “You ungrateful wretch,” she seethed. “You will pay dearly for that. Do you know what I will soon be able to order my beast to do to Belle? Keep pressing your luck, Abigail.”
Her posture slackened as the tension of Abigail’s presence instantly faded away.
“Now,” Violet straightened the lapels of her blazer, “that’s more like it. Hagar, dear, where were we?”
She was answered by the front door slamming shut.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the cage. “Well, Beast,” she held up the red and purple vials, “I daresay, it’s time for your medicines.”
A roar of desperation was her answer.
Chapter 10: What Are Friends For?
Belle awoke in the middle of the night, desperately kicking at the vise of sheets wrapped tightly around her body. Truth be told, she thought she was still inside the beast and was thrashing around, trying to free herself from the prison of its body.
She dropped into a free-fall for a nanosecond, and the solid smack against the floor jolted her out of her semi-dreamstate. She froze. The filtered moonlight through the blinds, not the greenhouse panes, let her see that she was in a bedroom, not her own, but it did look vaguely familiar.
She scrambled to a sitting position on the floor, the blankets wrapped protectively around her shoulders, her back against the bed. Once she spotted the small square poster frames on the wall of various New Orleans landmarks, it finally registered in her brain that she was in Candy’s spare bedroom. A glance down at her outfit proved she was still in her party clothes, and the Louis Armstrong mini-statue clock on the nightstand showed the hands at 3:45-ish in the morning, which all meant that...
Holy bluebells, this night really happened!
Her mind zeroed in on the most immediate shock: that dream.
She reached over to the nightstand’s drawer but only found candy wrappers from the last time she’d stayed over. She needed pen and paper; she needed to write down this dream.
Keeping one of the blankets wrapped around herself, she ventured out into the hall toward the catch-all drawer in the kitchen she knew would have what she needed.
“Belle.”
The scream she bit back came out as a gurgled gasp.
“Hey,” Candy whispered, gripping her pallid friend by the shoulders. “It’s just me. I heard a noise from your room.”
Belle struggled to steady her breathing. “How, how did I end up at your place? I don’t remember.”
They shuffled back into the guest room. Perched on the bed facing each other, Candy pinned Belle with her classic let-me-tell-you expression. “Honey, you must’ve had a wild night. Millie and I found you curled up, sleeping on a lounger at the far edge of the back patio. You even had a big beach towel around you, which some kind soul must’ve covered you with because you looked as snug as a bug. And then, we couldn’t get you to fully wake up, and you were mumbling something about Jäger, so we figured you passed out drinking Jägermeister.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Only you didn’t smell drunk, and you were clutching a ketchup bottle, which, by the way,” her tone sharpened, “you got all over my gold Gucci shirt.” She paused and squeezed Belle’s arm. “Long story short, we need to build up your partying stamina. And it was rough-going between Millie and me trying to get you out of that lounge chair, but then guess who showed up?”
“Who?” Her head was spinning. Let them think she was drunk-buzzed into sleep on a ketchup cocktail. That worked for her. The Jäger in the greenhouse-incident was real. He must’ve been the one to set her down where her friends could find her.
“That boy Millie likes and who you know from lunch. And let me tell you, he is fine with a capital F. He asked what the trouble was, we told him, and he said ‘Never fear, help is here’—so you see, he is fine, but he is a dork, so I get why Millie likes him—and then he scooped you up in his arms like you was just a feather, and, girl, the people parted like the Red Sea when he walked through with you. You should’ve seen Jared’s face, poor guy...and poor Mari! Jared was flirting with some blonde right in front of her before he saw you being carried off.”
“I told Jared that I only like him as a friend.”
“You did? Well, good for you. But listen, I’m not finished. Our resident hero, Eddie, followed us in his Jeep since he said he was staying at this complex, too. I dropped Millie off at home, drove us here, and then he carried your cute Sleeping Beauty behind up the stairs—we tried the elevator, but it wouldn’t come—all the way to this bed. Never complained once. And you were just clutching at his shirt and burying your face in it, mumbling something about ‘You smell so nice’ and ‘Happy thoughts.’”
“You’re lying.”
“Nope.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Not one bit. And then he sure charmed Mama with his, ‘Pleasure to meet you, m’am,’ and his, ‘Is that some delicious gumbo I smell?’ I could tell she wanted to feed him a bowl and adopt him, but I had to get rid of him.”
“Why?” Belle’s cheeks were on fire, but her heart had been doing cartwheels this whole time, imagining herself being shepherded in Eddie’s arms as her rescuer. Forget the life-or-death stuff, this was a total Willoughby-&-Marianne moment. And, jeez, her damsel in distress fantasies were a bit antiquated, but they were her guilty pleasures.
“Three reasons. One, your uncle was on his way—”
“What?!” she whisper-screeched.
“Mama called him. Told him you were staying over because you weren’t feeling well. He did come by, but Eddie was long gone by then, and your uncle checked on you. I guess he was satisfied you really were just sleeping and not passed out drunk. Mama sent him packing with some left-overs. Hmm, now I wonder if he really did just want the gumbo and used you as an excuse.”
“That is highly probable.”
Belle had a lot to tell Ernesto. She’d have to tell him everything that happened just this whole day. Had it really just been one day, today, that the twins and the Jäger attacked her, and then she was somehow exorcised by the Jäger after she almost committed mass murder? And what was that bit of crazy-talk the demon had mentioned about her killing her family and getting a do-over?
That was just a lie. Had to be.
This was all too much. Just too much. She couldn’t even process all that right now. Not to mention the dream she’d just awakened from, seeing through that Beast’s eyes. The details of the dream were growing fuzzy already. She needed to wrap up this conversation with Candy and write it down already.
“And two?” Belle prompted.
Candy pursed her lips. “Millie. Don’t even tell her how accommodating Eddie was for you. Her glasses will turn a permanent shade of green.”
“It’s not like I was encouraging him,” she said defensively. “I was unconscious.”
“Still. Even unconscious, you swept that man off his feet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“And three, Eddie likes you, girl.”
“He was, um, just being a gentleman.” Belle thought of the way she and Eddie had parted on Maple Tree Trail. Not very amicably. “Yes, he was just being nice. Maybe he was helping me for Millie’s sake, huh, did you think about that?”
“So you’re not interested in Eddie? Not even the littlest bit?” Belle must’ve taken too long to answer because Candy added, “And now we officially have drama. My advice? Let Millie have this one.”
Belle could only sputter as she stared. “Eddie is not mine to give. Plus, I don’t want to worry about boys. I’m still trying to get my mind off one as it is. I have too many other more important things to worry about.”
“Such as?”
Catching a witch. Freeing my mom. Surviving a Jäger. Or, how about even forming a plan for all of that?
“Such as?” Candy repeated.
“School and homework.”
Once she got home, she and Ernesto were going to form a plan that included her. No more of his “You worry about school and being a teenager, and my Mission Impossible team and I will nab Violet.” She needed to be involved. She needed to make herself useful. This was her life, and she had to start taking the reins and stop being a passive observer. Yes, her life was the script to a Twilight Zone episode, but she was still the star and so she had to play her part.
She was still working out the how part, though.
Candy yawned loudly and rubbed her eyes. “Okay, girl, goodnight. I left you some fresh PJs in the bathroom. Oh, we’re having a pool day tomorrow. I invited Eddie.”
Her jaw dropped. “Did he say he was coming?”
Candy didn’t even turn around as she walked out, teasing, “‘School and homework,’ huh?”
Belle threw a pillow at her backside, but Candy only laughed before closing the door behind her.
THE NEXT MORNING WAS not a pool day. Belle had slept in all the way to noon to the sounds of thundering rain outside. As soon as the sleepy frog was out of her voice, she called Ernesto on Mama Jo’s phone.
“I dreamt of a flower.”
A pause. “The flower?”
“Uh-huh. The flower is in Amsterdam.”
“What else?”
“Uh, the flower would go well with a navy business suit and a brown-haired wig. This flower was there with a different flower. It looked like it would, um, go well with a Bohemian outfit and a head wrap. And potions.” She felt the code-splaining getting ridiculous now. “Um...a wolf-type animal is sniffing around these two flowers. They’re all in a hotel room with the Amsterdam skyline visible through a window.”
Unfortunately, that was all she had remembered from the dream. She hadn’t been able to find anything with which to write it down, so she’d lain in bed trying to replay the dream in her mind, and before she knew it, sleep had claimed her.
“I’ll get the ball rolling toward Amsterdam right now,” Ernesto said. “When will you be home?”
“Soon. I need to buy a new cell phone at the mall first.”
“What happened to your phone?”
“It broke.”
She could tell he resisted asking about it further. “Okay. Bueno, are you feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He waited for her to elaborate, probably explain how she was ill in the first place, but she didn’t want to concoct a lie, so she remained silent.
“I’ll see you at the house then.”
“See you soon, Uncle.”
So in borrowed navy jogger pants and a fitted black strappy tank top from Candy, she zipped up in her gray school hoodie, applied cotton candy-flavored lip gloss, and wrapped her bird-nest hair into a low bun.
While tucking yesterday’s clothing into her messenger bag, she noticed the dark brown patch on the gold sequined party shirt. The pattern tracked down the left side of the shirt, and it was bright red, not brown. She licked the spot. Metallic, coppery, and definitely not ketchup.
That was blood.
Belle unzipped her hoodie and pulled the front of her tank top down a tad. She stared at the spot where the Jäger’s magical dagger had been embedded. If the dagger was supposed to kill the demon and not her, then why was there blood all over the shirt?
Was it possible...the Jäger meant to kill her, and she’d healed after he left her for dead?
Her perfectly unstabbed heart hammered in her chest. That could only mean that the Jäger would try to kill her again. He probably knew now that she healed fast, and she didn’t even want to think about how he would make sure that she stayed dead.
When the rain died down, she and Candy headed to Peacock Plaza. First stop, Candy’s bakery. Belle parted ways with her best friend after scarfing down her favorite cupcake and an iced mocha latte. The world could be ending—doomsday fireball comet right outside her window—but that heavenly chocolate ganache could keep her blissfully occupied.
Properly caffeinated now and her sweet tooth appeased, she headed for Q’s electronics store, Q-Tech.
The Elmridge high school was known as one of the best and most exclusive in the nation. They were really hands-on about educating the students in their future career choice, especially when it came to making money, which was why some of the high school students already had a business or income of their own. Candy had her bakery; Q, his electronics store; Vasilisa, a clothing store; Hans, an event planning business; Jared’s a singer, and Liam runs an international shipping company.
Even Belle was supposed to be in charge of the Historical Elmridge Society Museum on the first floor of her home. Except it’d been closed this whole time, plagued by rumors of being haunted, courtesy of Peter’s shadow. But that was a non-issue now since the shadow had followed Peter and Emily out the window that night.
Maybe she should start focusing on running the museum and making it accessible to the public. After all, it was part of her Work Study grade, her last class of the day, only the teacher responsible hardly ever kept tabs on her.
But, still. Emily had wanted her to take charge of the museum. It would probably be a productive diversion for her.
Belle caught sight of Cindy just inside Q-Tech, working the checkout station. As she drew closer, she could see something was boldly different about her shy friend. Cindy’s sandy blonde hair was up in a high ponytail. Her bangs were artfully cut, the center covered her forehead, and the sides remained long enough to frame her face. Her lips were glossed pink, and her cornflower blue eyes really popped. Make-up! Cindy was wearing make-up and no hoodie. Her black employee t-shirt had the signature electronic banner running across her chest, Q-Tech, Your best bet for the best tech!
“Hi, Belle!” Cindy called out.
“Hi yourself!”
As she waited for Cindy to finish ringing up a customer, Belle glanced around at a sight that would make Tony Stark proud. Robotic arms and self-serve touch screens protruded from the ceiling over counters of electronic merchandise. Q, with his infamous dislike of people, employed robots as sales agents, and Cindy, the only human he appeared to like.
Belle felt like Q just tolerated her presence for Cindy’s sake, but it was apparently enough to land her on his very short list of friends.
Cindy waved her over, and they hugged. “Q’s in the back, so we have a few minutes to chat. How was the party last night?”
“It was fun, I guess. I called you beforehand and left you a message to see if you wanted to go.”
“I know. I was just really busy.” She bit her lip and couldn’t quite meet Belle’s eyes. “Um, I have something to tell you.”
Belle’s alarms went off. “Okay.”
“So, my dad and I spent the last week moving into a new place because he got a new job.”
“That sounds great. Right?”
“Yes, it’s amazing actually. Daddy’s well enough now that he’s on his feet with the help of a cane, and he’s almost completely back to normal, physically and mentally. Enough that he’s ready to hold down a job.”
“Seems this news keeps getting better and better. I’m so happy for you. So, what’s wrong then? Are you moving out of Elmridge?”
“No.” Here she paused and nervously tucked the longer sides of her bangs behind her ears. “Daddy and I moved into Rawlins Castle.”
Belles eyes widened and her breath stilled in her chest, but Cindy rushed on, “Daddy used to work with Liam’s father in the business. They were partners or something. Liam called Daddy up a week ago and told him he’d heard how he was out of the hospital and improving so quickly. Liam asked him if he could resume his old post, you know, partners, and with the Europe-angle eating up so much of his time, Liam wanted Daddy to run the North American division. Well, Daddy accepted, and, um, Liam g-gave him the castle, and told him to staff it and run it however he wanted to because it was his now.”
The silence stretched between them as Cindy looked anywhere but at Belle’s stricken face.
Looking down at her shoes, Cindy finally moaned, “I’m so sorry, Belle. I didn’t want this to be hurtful to you in any way.”
That snapped Belle out of her inward spiral toward the mental toilet. “No. No, you have nothing to be sorry about. This, this is the best news I’ve heard all day. I mean it. Are you happy about this change?” Cindy nodded, a weak smile beginning to spread. “See? And you look happier. You’re absolutely glowing.”
“Daddy insisted on re-hiring Arturo. He used to be our live-in nanny, well, manny, before...the drowning accident. He did my make-up and hair, and, um, yeah, I guess my therapist would approve of all this.”
“Well, I definitely approve.” Belle gave her a watery smile. “Did you, um, did you talk to Liam?” She flushed with shame at even asking.
“Oh, no. No. He didn’t speak with me, but—”
“Yes?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not, you know, because of how you were feeling about, well, you know...” Belle nodded vigorously for her to go on. “But Liam told Daddy to tell me that if any of my friends wanted to use the library or the rose garden that they were welcome to either. I think, I think he was talking about you.”
Hot tears welled up and a golf ball formed in her throat as she nodded her thanks.
So, on some teeny-tiny scale, Liam still cares about me.
“You do have a line, Cindy.” Q’s robotic voice made both girls jump.
Cindy thumped her finger against the small monitor attached to the register. Q’s face stared back at them.
“Why isn’t this turning off?” she demanded.
“I removed that option after you refused to turn the screen back on yesterday.”
“Can you blame me? You’re spying on me.”
“I am spying on the store,” he corrected. “And when I spy that a line has grown at the register because you are chit-chatting with a friend, then I must intervene.”
Cindy whipped out a small plastic bag and covered the whole monitor with it.
“I did not anticipate that,” came Q’s voice.
