Secrets At Crescent Point, page 5
Back outside, I thought about my mother’s words. That I should leave Sonja alone. Brokenhearted, the last thing I’d wanted was placating words from others, but ultimately, being alone had been too miserable. I took a tentative step. Overhead, the gray clouds muted the sun, and cold drizzle decided for me.
The aquarium on the waterfront was her favorite place to go as child, and I found her there. She stood with her face to the glass of the two story aquarium room, looking up at the surface of the water through the fish and plants. Blue ripples reflected off her face in the darkened room.
“Still pretend you’re a mermaid?” I asked.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving the swimming silverfish. “I just wanted a place to remember what it was like to be happy.”
The tone of her voice sent alarm rippling through me. I stood next to her watching the gentle sway of the pink and orange anemones and stroked her hair. She sniffled and leaned her head on my shoulder.
“I’ve been trying, my love,” I whispered. “But Niklos…it all looks as if he’s gone on his own. Was there a fight? Did you have words?”
Her head shook in the crook of my neck. “No. We are in love, Raven. He would not leave me. He just needed to—” She stopped herself, body tensing in my arms.
“What?” I turned her to face me. “What did he need to do?”
She shrugged, not answering. I waited her out.
“I do not understand why his family is gone, but I do know that Niklos intends to have a future with me. I need…” Her breath hitched. “I need for one person, for you, to believe me, Raven. I need that, or I will turn to ash and blow away.” She wiped at her face, lip trembling, and my heart broke for her.
“I believe you, my little sister,” I whispered. “I will stand with you on this. I promise.”
Pulling her to me again, I felt her crumble in my arms; her sobs shook us both.
I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do, Lord. How do I help her when I fight to believe her myself? With so much pain, so much doubt… I don’t have the strength for two.
My mother’s words from earlier echoed in my mind.
Be still.
8
Staring at my reflection in the mirror of my room at the Inn, I frowned and pulled out the thin braids that encircled my crown like a halo.
“That is the third time you’ve changed your hair,” my sister said from her position on the bed. She sat cross legged, peering at me. She looked a bit better this evening, her coloring more natural.
Agreeing to attend the bonfire had lifted her spirits and relief flooded through me that my journey here had not been for nothing.
“It never does what I want it to,” I said and fussed some more. My thoughts flew to Siyah. With his club open last night and tonight, the weekend, surely he would not be there.
“You look beautiful, as always.”
“We should go.” I sighed, decided to leave my hair down, and pulled myself from the chair. I hugged Sonja, squeezing her tightly. “And thank you.”
We made our way from the Inn to the beach, the soft blue of twilight casting the woods and path in a somber light.
Sonja chatted about Talia’s upcoming marriage to Luka, and we laughed at old stories from when we were in school.
Cobblestones paved the main street of the village, and the arching arms of the wrought iron lamp posts curved over us. All the shops were closed, their owners down on the sands. In the distance, lilting violin and guitar strains floated to us, and my heart rate picked up. Laughter and the chattering din of a happy gathering surrounded the deep orange glow of the bonfire up ahead.
Sonja grabbed my hand in hers, a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
I took a step and the sand, still warm from the day, poured over my sandaled feet as I walked with shaking knees.
“See, there is Mama,” Sonja whispered.
I followed the tilt of her head to a small group gathered just inside the firelight. My mother sat with her hands in her lap, her gaze scanning the crowd. She was looking for me. She seemed on edge, and I gulped, willing myself not to look around nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I saw three women, friends of my mother, glance in my direction, and then lean in towards each other, their tittering whispers making my pulse race.
A dancing couple spied me and spread apart, stopping to look as Sonja pulled me along.
Behind me, I heard a low mutter.
Găinar, came the whisper. Thief.
So they had not forgotten, nor had they forgiven.
Mouth dry, I stumbled, my lip trembling. We passed Talia, and she met my eyes; her reassuring smile gave me strength. Her fiancé, Luka, watched me with a steely gaze, but Talia stepped forward and took my other hand. Together we walked, the three of us, past stares and whispers.
My mother looked up, relief on her face, and she stood to meet us with open arms. “You came, my little bird,” she breathed. Waving a hand dismissively, she leaned in. “They will think what they will think, and we will let them.”
I sat next to her on the driftwood log. Sonja sat next to me and Talia dropped to the sand, folding her legs under her and staring out at the crowd.
No one said a thing, the music never stopped, but the stares and muttered disbelief drifted to my ears. A trickle of sweat slid down my spine and sent a tremor through me. I hugged myself and kept my eyes on the dancing flames.
“Where is Papa?” Sonja whispered.
“He is on his way.” My mother’s hands fidgeted in her lap. “The ferry was late.”
“I think this was maybe a very bad idea,” I said and stood.
The protests of my friend and family faded into the background as blood pounded in my ears.
Siyah stood on the other side of the fire, his chiseled features half cast in shadows. Our gazes locked, and he tensed. Dressed in a royal blue oxford shirt and black pants, the rolled up sleeves and bare feet gave him a casual elegance that took my breath away. His dark hair and cobalt eyes were lit with reflected flames. He looked like he belonged here on Noble’s shores, out on the deep waters, at the helm of a boat. A true Romany prince, he was every bit the man he’d fought so hard to resist becoming.
My mother reached up and pulled my arm, bringing me back to the log.
A woman walked up to him, her long chestnut tresses braided with beads, gold bangles and earrings glittering in the firelight as she placed her hand on his bicep, her presence pulling his attention.
He looked down at her, his expression softening as he spoke with her.
Too far for me to see her clearly or hear them, a deep knot twisted my gut. Was this the woman, no, girl, from the look of her, she couldn’t be more than twenty, who cared for him now? Was this the one who warmed his embrace?
“Raven?” My sister spoke, tugging on my arm. “Are you all right? You’re trembling.”
“I–I’m fine,” I breathed, the ache in my chest almost overwhelming.
Siyah smiled at something she said, nodded and cocked his head, listening to her answer.
Unable to tear my gaze from them, I swallowed over a painful lump in my throat.
She reached up, encircled his neck with her willowy arms and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. She cast a backward glance at me, and slipped a possessive hand in the crook of his elbow. Her chin tipped up in a defiant jut.
I blinked, turning from the scene with a painful tumble of my heart. I did not know who she was, but I knew who she was to Siyah.
“Perhaps we should walk along the shore,” Talia offered, her gaze on Siyah, as well. “We can talk…”
The words died on her lips, and I followed her gaze to the form of my father. He stood ramrod still a few feet from the fire, his dark brows knitted over an angry expression.
My mother stood abruptly, called to him with her hand out. “Come and sit,” she said with a tremble in her voice. “Together.”
The music stopped then, the violin and guitar dying out as the murmurs around us grew. All eyes were on my father, his still form rigid.
I stood too, my hands wringing as I held my breath, every fiber tense, waiting.
His gaze would not meet mine. It locked on my mother, his head giving an imperceptible shake. “You should not be here. Not after what you did,” he said evenly. His mouth turned down, and he cleared his throat before he turned and strode back out into the dark night.
Still silence blanketed the crowd. A log cracked, spraying sparks, before it tumbled in on itself.
My chest heaved, straining for breath that would not come.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to me, the frowns and clucking tongues, and tittering snickers rose in the seconds that followed until it was a roar in my head.
A sob roiled inside, shaking me where I stood. Smoothing my skirt with sweaty palms, I squared my shoulders, sure they could hear my heart ramming against my chest. Giving my mother a kiss on her forehead, I hugged her and walked the opposite direction of my father.
Siyah stood, his face was pained, his jaw set with anger. He obviously felt the same—that I should not have returned. That I didn’t belong anymore. I kept walking, willing one foot in front of the other, praying all the way that I would not fall apart in front of everyone. I kept going. Away from the warmth of the fire and the strength of family and friends. Out onto the dark shore.
I ambled along the water’s edge and let the chill of the ocean numb my feet. The bottom of my skirt swayed, heavy with the cold water as it slapped against my ankles. I hugged my arms to my chest and tried to quiet the sobs that poured out of me. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I expected this, and still my heart thrummed out waves of disappointment and sorrow. I wandered the shore for so long I could no longer see the glow of the bonfire in the distance.
Backlit by the low moon, a dark form moved across the water, and I froze, squinting into the night. Too low in the water to be a boat, it did not move with the swell like driftwood. It cut through the water as if on its own power. Laughter from the direction of the bonfire pulled my gaze and when I looked back, it was gone. Shaking my head, I wondered if I’d seen it all. Fringed shadows against the skyline told me where the forest started, and I headed towards land.
Choosing a path through the woods, I had only the light of the low, full moon to guide me as I stumbled back to the Inn. The hour was late, gone longer than I’d thought, I was not surprised to find the front desk abandoned. Heading to my room, I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat. My door was ajar, the jamb splintered from the force it took to fling it open. Alarm trilled up my spine as I crept forward.
Inside, my room was a jumble of thrown clothes, pulled out drawers, and tossed books. Not understanding, I stood in the doorway, my eyes filling as frustration and betrayal rocked me. Someone had ransacked my room, gone through my things, and invaded my privacy. But when I saw the dagger sunk to the hilt in my pillow, anger turned to fear, and I backed out of the room, shaking.
Who was doing this? Had I ignited a fury so dark that a threat like this was warranted? I stood in the hallway, lost, unable to think of what to do or where to go. My father would not allow me to return home, and I was not safe here, that was for sure. Licking my lips, I darted into the room, grabbed my bag and threw a few items into it, before scrambling back into the night. I may have nowhere to go, but I wasn’t staying here.
I wandered the empty streets of the village, the dark windows and closed doors offering no safe haven. Faint music from the beach made its way to me, and I bit my quivering lip. I didn’t need them, and they didn’t want me. It appeared that I could do nothing for Sonja but bring more ridicule against her. My father was right. I shouldn’t have come. Striding into the woods, I felt in my bag for my plane ticket. Open ended, I could leave whenever I wanted, and I wanted to leave at first light.
The tall spire of the boardwalk flag pole punched through the tree line, and I walked in that direction. I could make the ferry port quicker if I cut through the carnival’s street. Straining to remind myself that the shapes and shadows that jutted out of the night were pieces of plastic and wood, I stifled the unease that hovered over me as I walked the abandoned pavilion. A low howl floated from the woods sounding almost human. An owl, I told myself, or a dog. Neither explanation settled my racing heart. I refused to look at the Ferris wheel, determined to keep the memory of that night at bay.
My sandals crunched on the gravel road, and the cold wet of the ocean settled in my bones as I strode along the gaping maw of the old funhouse ride, past the crouching form of the Tilt-A-Whirl, and the flapping remnants of the tarps covering the booths. Exhausted, I crawled onto the carousel, looking for a bench to wait out the dawn. I walked towards the ride, the bulbous lights making curving shapes against the sky. I climbed up, settling into the worn wood seat and closed my eyes.
A sudden jolt rocked me awake. Panting, I froze. Listened. Had I imagined it? Overhead, a slow glow started, the incandescent threads of the carousel lights slowly brightened, flickered, and then went out, snapping me into darkness once more.
“H – Hello?” I squeaked and was met with silence. Almost at ease again, I yelped when the ride lurched, the calliope music scratching to life as the broken and discolored animals rose on their poles. I held on, grasping for my bag as it tumbled to the deck of the ride, its contents rolling under the disfigured forms. A cry slipped from my lips, and I crawled, falling and jolting as I reached for my wallet. “Stop it. Who is doing this?”
The ride sped up, making the mirrors on the central column flick by faster and faster. Behind me a form flashed; a boy’s face frozen in terror, his gaping mouth blackened. The silvered and cracked glass reflected my frightened face in a jerking flip-book motion. I gasped, spinning to see, and fell as a scream erupted from me. I looked frantically for what I’d seen in the mirrors. My mind untethered in panic, I leapt from the ride and ran, my shoulders chilling with the hand I was sure would reach out to grab me.
Stumbling over a pile of trash, I fell onto my stomach, knocking the wind from me. My lungs burned as I flailed, trying to move air.
The ride behind me slowed, and then stopped, a hulking form in the shadows.
Hand over my ramming heart, I leaned against the booth’s side, trying to regain control. Stories of the boy’s death gnawed at me. Others had seen him. They swore by it, but I didn’t believe in those things.
I shook my head, refusing to give in to hysterics about hauntings. I wiped my hand across my face, and felt something sticky on my palm. I stilled. Squinting in the moonlight, I peered into the booth, my breath coming in quick gasps. I pulled back the worn tarp.
I did not know that the keening scream was my own voice. I did not remember running from the body in the booth or how I got to the Black Adder club almost two hundred yards away. I only know that in the panic and the terror, I’d found my way to Siyah.
His gaze met me as I stumbled through the door of his office, and he did not hesitate. Encircling me within his strong, sure embrace, he held me up as my legs gave way.
“What is wrong, what is the matter?” His voice, tight and worried, broke through my panicked haze. He took in my skirt, the dark smear now crimson in the office light. Blood. “Raven, what happened? Whose blood is this?”
I clung to his sleeves, my mouth working, but unable to push my words out. I pointed frantically, my breathe coming in wheezes. “Out–out there. He’s dead, Siyah, he’s dead.”
He shifted, pushing me further into the office, his body between me and the doorway. His expression darkened, his words were clipped, hard. “Tell me what you saw.”
“I–I think it is Niklos,” I managed. “I think that Niklos has been murdered.”
9
Siyah
Nearly midnight. Raven sat huddled on the couch in the corner of the club’s lounge, her legs folded under her, his sweater pooling around her small frame. She looked shaken and pale, her dark eyes staring off in the distance.
Siyah stood just inside the entrance of The Black Adder, gaze on the sheriff over by the squad car.
Lit by the low moon, Thompson talked to one of his deputies, handed over Raven’s blouse encased in a large baggie, and glanced at Siyah. He said something more, and then walked up. He nodded over to her. “How’s she holding up?”
“Not well,” Siyah intoned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Is it him?”
“Yeah, it’s Niklos.” Sheriff Dylan Thompson pointed to the pocket of his uniform. “Stabbed.”
“Recently?” Siyah stayed in the doorway, not letting Thompson pass. “Here?”
“Not enough blood for him to have died here.” Sighing, Thompson eyed him, and then took a step back. “Are we going to arm wrestle first, or are you going to let me talk to her?”
“Let him in,” Raven said quietly.
Siyah stepped aside, watched as she smoothed her hair and tried on a weak smile.
Thompson settled into the chair opposite her, pulled out a notepad, and flipped it open. “Let’s go over what happened.”
She leaned forward, hugging herself.
Siyah half sat on the arm of a nearby stuffed chair, watching as she relayed what had happened. She gestured as she spoke and his oversized sweater shifted, a flash of pale skin as it fell from her shoulder. He sucked in a quick breath, looking away even as something tumbled in his chest. Ebony waves to her waist, ruby lips, and those dark eyes, Raven pulled the attention of everyone in the room. Always had.
He noticed her hands shaking, and he circled the room slowly, keeping within earshot of the conversation. Every once in a while her glance would flit to him, catching his gaze before continuing. He wondered what that was about.
Thompson finished with a few questions, and then stood with a nod.
Raven bit her lower lip as if cutting off words and Siyah’s brow arched. She was hiding something; that was her tell.
Thompson tucked the notepad into his chest pocket as he neared. “Any way someone could get to the carousel and lights without you knowing?”
