Deadly Gift

  Even so, he moved with the maddened speed of a schoolboy, afraid to lose the moment. Then she was against him, naked flesh to naked flesh, hunger and electricity driving away thought, words, past, future—even the present. She was not in the least shy, trembling against him as her lips moved over his skin, as their tongues met and tangled and dueled in wet, feverish kisses. She slid against the length of his body, the satin of her hair teasing his flesh, her hands, lips, teeth and tongue following suit.

  She was sweeter than any woman he had ever known. He was ravenous, but he forced himself to lavish care upon her shoulders, breasts, belly, limbs and beyond. She tasted of life and vitality, sweetness and light, and his every touch seemed to arouse her almost unbearably. They fell together on his bed in a wild jumble of arms, legs and bodies, striving to touch each other, gasping at an erotic touch received. Their caresses were beyond intimate. He roused her to a series of mini orgasms that left her moaning and him desperate to control his own frantic urge to climax.

  But it was a lost cause. Her fingertips, just brushing his shoulders, his thighs, were like a physical aphrodisiac. The feel of her lips against him so sexually was enough to make him tremble and surge in a frantic desire for release.

  The torture was exquisite. To receive, to give. He finally shifted his weight atop her, teasing every inch of her flesh, as he had been teased. He laced his fingers together with hers after he had trailed fervent kisses down the length of her perfect form, feeling drunk on the feel and taste of her. He met the brilliant blue beauty of her eyes and saw there a trust and need and vulnerability that tore at his very soul. And then he was inside her, and instinct took over. They moved together, and somewhere in his mind he heard the wind at sea, the waves in a storm, a force of nature that was beautiful and almost violent, and, above all, as passionate as heaven and hell and all that reigned in between.

  The world and the night seemed to explode as he did, and he was gratified to feel the quaking of her body as he held her, basking in the spill of heat and fire that erupted between them. He held her, examining the lines of her face and form, the tangle of her hair against his flesh and pillow. She looked up at him as if marveling at the experience of being with him, and that look was something he was certain would gratify any living, breathing man in the entire universe. He touched her hair, and she caught his hand and kissed it, and the look in her eyes was suddenly pained and wistful.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  “What? You’ve just arrived.”

  “I have to go.”

  She kissed his lips again, passionately, so passionately that he was tempted to drag her back down, but just as she had arrived with no hesitation or pretense, she was equally determined that she had taken all the time she could and now had to leave.

  “I have to go.”

  “Like Cinderella, and the clock is about to strike midnight.”

  “Cinderella?” she asked.

  He frowned. “Even in Ireland, I’m sure you know all about Cinderella.”

  “The fairy tale?” she said. “Of course.”

  He smiled. She was stumbling back into her clothing, watching him. She tossed her hair back as she buttoned her robe and then kissed his forehead. “It’s just that we have so many fairy tales of our own….”

  “Every country has its fairy tales,” he agreed.

  “Tales of magic, fantasy and what lies beyond,” she said, her voice trembling and hinting at mysteries undreamed of.

  “What lies beyond?”

  “It’s real, you know,” she said softly.

  “What’s real?”

  “The world beyond. Heaven, hell…more.”

  She seemed strangely worried and distracted, he thought. She’d been his so completely in bed. So real, a creature of flesh and blood and bone, breathing, hot and damp, twisting and writhing and holding tight. And now…it was as if she were a million miles away.

  “Caer…”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  He started to rise, but she stretched out a hand to stop him. “Midnight. The witching hour. Sean will be back soon, and I have to be in my room. I have to watch over him,” she said.

  Short of chasing her buck naked through the house, he had no choice but to let her go.

  “Weren’t they great?” Kat asked, leaning her head on her father’s shoulder.

  He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for inviting me. I had a good time.”

  “Thank you for coming,” she told him sincerely.

  Her father was looking out the window at the Christmas lights, still holding her hand. “Do you remember when you were younger, just starting out as a musician? You’d play that trance stuff that just about made me crazy. And that hip-hop.”

  She laughed. “Dad, I still play those now and then.”

  “But your music has matured. You’ve expanded your horizons. You love every form of music, and even if I don’t like all of it, I can accept that you do. It’s like that with people, too. Amanda—”

  “Please, Dad. Stop. I accept that you’re married to her, but I just can’t imagine…Dad, she isn’t your type. I’m not jealous because she’s young—and I don’t care about money, you know that.”

  He laughed. “I do know that. You told me when you were just a kid that you were going to make your own money, and the hell with me. You’re doing a damned fine job, too.”

  “Thanks to Zach,” she said. “I wish he had come tonight.”

  “He’s focused. Have you noticed that about Zach? He’s into his music or he’s on a case. One or the other, never both at once. He uses the music to cleanse himself after every tough case.” He let out a sigh. “But…back to the subject. Amanda’s my wife, even if that makes me an old fool.”

  Kat drew away, stunned. “You mean that you agree with me…that Amanda did—”

  “Kat, don’t go thinking that I agree with you about that, because I don’t. Just because I’ve realized that Amanda isn’t…well, that she can be rude, that she’s shallow, that I may have been thinking with other parts of my body than my brain, it doesn’t mean she’s an evil human being.”

  The word evil was a strange choice, she thought. Her father should have said bad. “…it doesn’t mean she’s a bad human being.”

  It was just a word….

  “Almost home,” Tom said cheerfully. “Just a few more minutes.”

  Kat tried to read her father’s expression, but he had turned away, watching the lights once again.

  “Amanda has been a lot nicer since the blueberry incident,” Kat said, trying to sound nicer herself.

  “She coops herself up in our room a lot, that’s for sure. I’ve barely seen her myself lately,” Sean said. “It’s as if we’re all on hold, in a way. Waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Eddie to be found,” he said quietly.

  Tom drew to a stop at the front of the house to let them out. Kat thanked him and stepped from the car, reaching in to offer her father a hand.

  “Thank you, kitten,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “It was a nice night.”

  He headed for the house, and Kat started to follow.

  But then she froze. There were birds everywhere.

  They were high over the house, swooping on the air currents like vultures. Were they vultures? She narrowed her eyes against the night sky, trying to ascertain what they were. Not vultures. They were big, but not that big. They were darker silhouettes against the dark night sky, moving in strange circles, rising and falling.

  She remembered the bird outside her window, and suddenly panic swept through her.

  “Dad!” she cried, and raced to catch up with him.

  He waited for her, and she took his arm. “Look at all those birds,” he said.

  “They’re creepy,” she told him. “Let’s get inside.”

  “They’re just birds,” he said, and shrugged. “Maybe it’s global warming.”

  “It’s freezing tonight.”

  ?
??They’re just birds, Kat. They won’t hurt you.”

  He was convinced and started heading toward the house again. Kat looked up at the sky as she walked alongside him and could have sworn that the birds were swooping lower. She was sure they wanted to come after her and peck her eyes out.

  Cal was dreaming. Dreaming that he was running, about to grab the brass ring and achieve a life of ease, a house that wasn’t owned by the bank, credit cards that weren’t maxed out and the power to make someone else work when he didn’t feel like it.

  He was reaching out, about to grab it….

  But Eddie was there, in front of him, laughing at him, telling him that he was a fool, that he had to learn to work, like all the rest of them, had to pay his dues. Eddie was going to block him from his dream.

  Then the birds came. Great flocks of them, with huge eyes and wide dark wings. They cawed and flapped around him, tearing at his hair.

  He cried out and ducked.

  And woke up.

  He was standing outside, barefoot, and the ground was freezing. At least there weren’t any birds, he thought in relief, and then he realized that yes, there were. They just weren’t flying around and screaming.

  Two of them were perched on the cover of the barbecue.

  A few more were on the eaves of the house.

  He swore softy and glanced at his watch. It was late, but he wasn’t tired at all.

  Might be the fact that he had all but frozen his feet.

  Well, hell, this just might be the time to get a few things done.

  When Caer had gone, Zach took a long hot shower and dressed in long flannel pajama pants. It was late, but he felt restless. He slipped into a robe and stepped out into the hallway.

  He stood outside the door of Amanda’s and Sean’s room, listening. He could hear the television; she was either watching a late-night talk show or she had simply fallen asleep with the television on.

  He quietly walked away and went to check on Bridey, cracking the door open and looking in.

  He thought she was asleep, but then she spoke to him. “Hello, my boy. Are you all right? Restless, and walking about in the night.”

  “I’m fine, Bridey. How are you doing? Think those pills are starting to kick in?”

  “I’m all right, Zach. I’m all right. They’re not here for me, y’know.”

  “Who’s not here for you, Bridey?”

  “The birds.”

  Bridey wasn’t all right, he thought. She was growing stranger by the day. She’d told stories forever, but always with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Now she seemed to believe every thing she said.

  “Bridey, those birds are just birds.”

  “No, they’ve come on account of the evil. I wish Kat understood,” Bridey said, distressed. “The birds only come because of the evil. I’m not evil. I’m where I should be, and it will not be the birds comin’ for me.”

  “The birds will go away, Bridey.”

  “Aye, just as evil goes away. Always, it is beaten somehow. But the birds have come now because of it. Don’t worry about me. I’m not afraid of the birds.”

  He pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. “It’s all right, Bridey. There are evil people, we all know that. But you’re going to get well, and I won’t let anyone else get hurt.”

  “You’ll try, you’ll try hard, and I believe you are the man who can win.”

  “Bridey—”

  “Eddie…will be there. Eddie will wait for me.”

  “Bridey, I—”

  “I’m an old woman, Zach. Now, you. You’re young and in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Her change of subject threw him.

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re in love with her. It cannot be. Because she must bide and do her duty, and when her duty is done, she must go.”

  “Bridey, don’t you worry about anything now. All right? I’m here, and I’ll protect you and Sean and everyone else.”

  “Aye, Zach, what a fine lad ye are, but ye canna protect me from time.” She closed her eyes. “I think we all love her. She has such a goodness about her. Such beauty and sweetness. But she must do as she must do, but it’s from Ireland she sprang, and it’s to Ireland she must return.”

  “Bridey, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I am a little bit enchanted. But that’s not something we need to worry about right now.”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt,” Bridey said.

  “I’m strong, Bridey.”

  “No man is ever as strong as he thinks. Sean, my nephew, he’s a strong fellow, too, but strength canna always win out over deceit.”

  Her eyes closed.

  “Bridey?”

  But she had fallen asleep—or she was faking it. Either way, she was done talking to him. He kissed her forehead and tiptoed out.

  Despite the late hour, when he returned to his room, he put a call through to his brother Jeremy, who was just a few hours away in Salem, with his new wife, Rowenna. He needed a fresh perspective, and Jeremy was just the one to provide it.

  “Hey, bro. What’s up?” Jeremy asked once he was awake enough for conversation.

  “Everything all right with you?” Zach asked.

  “Everything is great with me. But you wouldn’t be calling so late if you didn’t need something, so spill. Kat okay? Is Sean all right?” A note of worry had crept into Jeremy’s voice.

  “Kat’s fine, and Sean is doing extremely well. It’s hard to tell he was ever ill.”

  “So Kat was just being paranoid, thinking Amanda was trying to kill her father?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. I need you to see what you can find out about arsenic poisoning—and mushrooms.”

  “If you think there’s too much arsenic in Sean’s system, he needs a heavy metals test,” Jeremy said.

  “I know. I’m leaning toward the mushroom thing, though. There’s at least one kind of poisonous mushroom that causes all the symptoms he had—and they can be delayed. But I’d like you to talk to some medical people who aren’t from around here, keep things quiet. See what you can find out from the experts.” He went on to tell Jeremy about Eddie Ray and his hunt for Nigel Bridgewater’s treasure, and his discovery that Eddie had left a clue on one of Sean’s charts.

  And about the crushed glass in the blueberries.

  “You think all those things are connected?” Jeremy asked.

  “Well, the blueberries came from a local store, but no one else reported having any problems, so I don’t know about them. But the other two things? Yeah, and I’m looking for the answers.”

  “All right, you work your end, and I’ll get all the info I can for you on this end. If I can’t get everything I need, I’ll have Aidan ask some of his FBI buddies to snoop around. Anything else?” Jeremy asked.

  “Bridey’s ill,” Zach said.

  “Damn,” Jeremy said, then fell silent for a moment. “She’s old, Zach,” he said finally. “She’s lived a long life, but we can pray she’ll get well. I’ll head up in a few days, after I talk to some people. Rowenna can see Sean’s place, and she’ll love Newport at Christmas. Anything else you need from me?”

  Zach hesitated. “Yeah. Study up on Irish legend for me, will you?”

  “What?”

  “Banshees, to be specific.”

  “Banshees.”

  “Yes. See if there’s any legendary association between banshees and birds.”

  “Banshees and birds?”

  “Yeah. Especially crows or ravens.”

  “All right, you got it,” Jeremy told him.

  Zach said good-night, and they hung up.

  Zach tried to sleep after that, but he could still see the birds, swooping so strangely around the sky.

  His mind was racing. It felt as if there were something he should be able to see or touch or understand, and it was eluding him.

  He sat up suddenly, picturing Caer as she had been that afternoon. She had gone off on purpose, he thought. She hadn’t w
anted to open that letter in front of anyone else. And whatever it said had disturbed her greatly.

  Bridey had been right. He was falling more deeply for Caer every hour. And he trusted her. He shouldn’t, because he knew there was something she wasn’t telling him. But she wasn’t out to hurt anyone—he was certain of that.

  Eddie was still missing and undoubtedly dead. They might never find him. And if he’d been in the water all this time, there wouldn’t be much to find.

  The gift.

  He clenched his teeth and spoke aloud.

  “Damn it, Eddie. I hope that gift gets here soon.”

  Because it might well be the answer.

  Gary Swipes stared at the thing that had landed in front of him, almost in his lap.

  It was the biggest damn bird he’d ever seen. Big and black, but other than that, he didn’t know what kind it was. Crow, raven, whatever…it was big, and judging by the thud it had made as it landed, it was heavy.

  It was also very dead.

  Its claws were curled and constricted.

  It was open-eyed.

  It was lying on its side, and the one eye he could see seemed to be staring at him in horror, as if it could still see him. He felt uncomfortable, as if he would see himself reflected in that one awful eye if he looked closer.

  He swore violently, fear suddenly blossoming in the pit of his being. He kicked out, half expecting that the dead bird would rise up and fly at him.

  It didn’t.

  It was dead.

  But the kick did nothing to stop that eye from staring at him.

  He was dimly aware of the sound of canned laughter coming through his headphones as he realized he hadn’t kicked the bird far enough away. It was still lying on its side.

  Staring at him.

  “Son of a bitch,” he swore aloud. “You creepy mother. You just had to die here, huh?”