The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1) Read online

  My brother leaned one arm on the corner of the desk, playing at nonchalance. “What is it?”

  Rowena shrugged. “Hell if I know. Cyril thought I was stupid. He only married me because I got knocked up with you. If he could’ve kept you and ditched me he would’ve in a heartbeat.”

  The brutal truth was, I agreed with her assessment of my father’s feelings for her. Cyril Skala had tolerated Rowena and that was all. It made me feel a tiny microscopic speck of sympathy deep, deep down, but even that was fleeting. She could’ve sought a divorce, unless there was a hell of a pre-nup. Either that or they had something over each other. If leaving involved a loss in social status or income, Rowena wouldn’t go for it. Heaven forbid she dirty her hands with something as pedestrian as work.

  Chris turned and rested his hip where his hand had been on the edge of the desk. He crossed his arms over the line of pearlescent buttons dividing his blue and white checkered dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in neat folds. His khaki shorts went to his knees. Tiny dashes of black ink soiled them here and there from dropped pens or absentminded rubbing with contaminated fingers while he took notes.

  “Okay, so you’ve got a necklace you were supposed to give me a few months ago. You don’t know what it does and I’m supposed to be impressed? Try again, Mother.”

  She held her prize higher. “Smell it.”

  Chris obliged, expression dubious. His nostrils flexed as he inhaled. “What is that?”

  Rowena shook her head. “Touch it.” When he reached for the knob in the center she jerked away in alarm. “Not there! Just on the flat part.”

  My brother shifted closer. “Alright, fine! Calm down. Let me see it, again.”

  She hedged, “Promise…”

  He held up three fingers aimed at the ceiling with a thumb holding down his pinky. “Scouts honor, Mother. What are you so afraid of? It’s just a metal trinket.”

  Rowena puckered her glossy red lips in a moue of anxiousness. “You’ll see. It does things.”

  The cell phone in my pocket rang, betraying my presence. I heard Rowena hiss in fury and Chris warned her with one word, “Don’t.”

  I took a deep breath to steady myself and pushed on the solid wood door. It slid on the track without protesting and disappeared into the wall.

  Rowena ground out through clenched teeth, “You little sneak!”

  The permission slip crumpled into a damp ball in my hand. IMAX didn’t matter anymore. I let the phone ring through to voicemail. It felt like it took forever. My brother rolled his eyes at his mother.

  “She deserves to know just as much as I do, Mother. If she didn’t eavesdrop I would’ve told her eventually.”

  Chris curled his fingers for me to come closer. His expression was filled with kindness. It was enough to make me cry. I blinked a few times and followed his unspoken command. His arm was warm and strong as he tucked me into his side.

  “What I know, she should know.”

  Rowena was furious, but under that I could sense fear. We locked eyes. She broke first as she hid the strange metallic pendant from us with a turn of her waist. The muscles along her spine flexed as she made her way to the open door. Even in retreat she looked chic. It was enough to make a still physically developing fourteen-year-old girl hurl.

  Chris let me go to chase his mother into the hall. I followed, trying to stay out of the way.

  “Where are you going? We aren’t done here, Rowena!”

  She turned her head to toss words over her bare shoulder, “Call me my first name all you like, Christophe, this conversation is still over.”

  I put in my two cents, “So is this all a big joke to you, Rowena? You think our father is alive but you won’t say why. You see another way to make me suffer so you pounce on it. What is it that’s got you running? Are you scared?”

  Her spiked heel caught the runner, snagged and then tore it as she continued her turn and faced us full on. Once creamy complexion had gone splotchy and red, she twisted her painted lips in derision. “You’re both ignorant, spoiled shits! I see the way you judge me.” Rowena’s heart was in her eyes when she looked to Chris. “Like it or not, I’m the adult here!”

  Chris coughed into his hand and attempted to charm her with a smile. “Technically, that isn’t true, Mother. I’m eighteen. Legal adult.” He held up one arm and pointed at the top of his own head.

  She spit on the wrinkled runner. Literally spit. Gross.

  “When you can buy your own liquor or you’ve got kids to raise then come tell me you’re an adult. This was a bad idea. I’m trying to protect you. Can’t you see that?”

  I rubbed my face with my palms, leaning hard into the ridges and folds then slid my fingers into my hair and tried not to scream at the ceiling. I elbowed my brother. “She was gonna tell you before I showed up. I’m going to my room.”

  He protested but his heart wasn’t in it. We both knew this would be easier without me. I dug my phone out of my front pocket and checked to see whose ill-timed call had given me away. The number was blocked as private. As far as I knew none of my friends were unlisted. Oh well, maybe it was just a wrong number and more of my unending supply of sucky luck.

  My back was turned when it happened. I don’t know if Chris tried to swipe the medallion from Rowena and that caused it. I haven’t got a clue. All I know is, one second the display on my phone was bright and clear then the next it shorted out, smoking with an acrid throat-scarring stench.

  Arcs of bright blue light flashed down the walls. My ears filled with a white static hiss. The hair on my body was standing at attention, swaying to an invisible wind. I spun to see Chris engulfed in blue-white spikes of lightning. The jagged tendrils of energy weren’t acting in a way I understood. Their behavior wasn’t random. The bolts didn’t hit the same spot twice and they circled the surfaces they hit as if searching for something—betraying intelligence.

  It crept closer and closer to me…

  6 CIRCUS, CIRCUS

  The sound of water running through pipes replaced the haunting crackle and hiss of the memory. My fists twisted the blanket under my chin and I swallowed a whimper. The bed bounced. An arm flung over my waist and a warm body curled around me. I bit my bottom lip and tried to reorient.

  That had been a dream. More of a vivid re-living, but whatever. The point was, it was the past and this was the present. Right now the inside of my mouth was letting me know it needed water. A funky fuzz was on my teeth and the taste on my tongue was awful. I didn’t know if there’d be a toothbrush in my bathroom. Probably. Fletcher had thought of everything else.

  I was loath to disturb Dominic. Breath held, I carefully lifted his arm by a limp wrist. Dude was heavy.

  Velveteen can be slick. I forgot and for my trouble slid off the bed and right on top of the trashcan. Plastic rustled and the thump of my butt on the floor sounded like an elephant stomp to me.

  A sleepy male voice grumbled, breaking the semi-silence after the fall, “You alright, Zena?”

  I righted the rocking trashcan next to my splayed legs. “Yeah.”

  His breathing settled into a slow heavy rhythm again. I wondered if he’d been all the way awake or talking in his sleep. Were I a good host, I’d go check on Iz first. I discovered I was just a mediocre one and decided to pee and brush my teeth before venturing downstairs.

  My bathroom wasn’t large or fancy. The sink was a pedestal affair and the shower was narrow with a glazed glass door in a brass-colored frame. I opened the mirrored cabinet mounted over the sink and found another walk down memory lane. My favorite cherry scented lip gloss, a stocking stuffer from my thoughtful brother, balanced on the top shelf. Zinc oxide from a spring break spent roaming the fields around the estate, collecting bugs of every variety for extra credit. I plucked the clear glass cylinder of gloss down and brought it to my nose. It smelled of happiness. Something I missed terribly, just like Christophe. They were really one and the same.

  A sound of shuffling
bare feet and I jumped like an idiot. Over my shoulder in the vanity Dom rubbed his eye sockets with his palms. He didn’t have a shirt on. I tried hard not to stare. The gloss clattered into the sloped ceramic bottom of the sink.

  Dominic squinted at my reflection then scowled at the light fixture. “Are you done?”

  “Dude, you’re not going in here. I might take a shower. The last thing I need is for you to take a morning dump and hotbox me. Go to Christophe’s bathroom. You know where it is!”

  He yawned and scratched his abs. “Somebody’s bitchy when she’s hung over.”

  I just wanted him further away from me. His shirtless state was making my brain short out. “Somebody spent years in a place with no privacy so she’d like to take a shower alone for the first time since eighth grade!”

  Dominic lowered long lashes and tilted his head back in surrender. “Fine, Z. Catch ya later.”

  I slammed the door on him. And immediately felt guilty. Aw crap. He’d been a gentleman. We hadn’t even slept under the same covers. While he hadn’t volunteered to baby me and Izzy, he had made sure we were alright before he turned in. What a way to spend a night when you were a good looking twenty-two-year-old who could practically hook up with whoever you wanted!

  The hinges protested, the freaking traitors, as I peeked into my bedroom. Dom was sitting with his back to me on the side of the bed he’d slept on, bending at the waist to put on a shoe. When I saw he had a shirt on I got bolder. “Look, are you staying for breakfast? I’ll cook you some eggs or something.” I rubbed a palm on my yoga pants.

  He turned and a wide smile made his dimples deepen. “Uh, no thanks on that offer. I’d prefer not to end up in the ER with food poisoning. I remember exactly how good you are in the kitchen, Zena.”

  Heat stole into my cheeks and made them into two throbbing wounds of embarrassment. “It’s been a while. Like you said, I’ve grown up, Dom. Maybe I won’t forget to pick the shells out this time…”

  The bed frame rocked into the wall when he stood. His hands went to his hips. The suddenness of the bang and his quick movement made me nervous.

  “I don’t know, Zena. Tell me why this feels so strange. How come we’re so awkward with each other? It’s not like we slept together last night. I’ve known you since you were in diapers, for Christ’s sake!”

  I shrugged and leaned on the doorframe, picking at the seams in the floorboards with one of my big toes. “We’re adults now. It isn’t the same. You aren’t my brother.” My breath hitched in my chest before I continued and I didn’t dare look up, “Part of me wishes you were because I miss him so much and the other part…doesn’t.”

  He came around the footboard with unhurried steps.

  “Will you tell me what really happened?”

  My body rejected that idea by breaking my flesh out in tingling goose bumps so hard it felt like I was growing new skin. I couldn’t. It was unbelievable. He would laugh and mock or worse yet, he’d look at me just like the Dr. Millers of the world. No doubt he’d heard the media reports but that was different—that wasn’t my own words out of my own mouth.

  The fear in me morphed into anger and I pushed myself away from the doorjamb. “I’ve talked and I’ve talked, Dominic. No one has ever believed me and neither will you. What do you really want to know? When you ask what really happened isn’t that just code for ‘did you kill my best friend’?”

  Dominic held his hands up. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant exactly what I said. For the record, I don’t think you killed Chris, Bozena.”

  I rubbed my shoulders, suddenly freezing cold. “I hate it when you use my whole name, Dom.”

  His eyes went hooded and sly. “Don’t change the subject…Z.”

  Against the advice of my current legal counsel I opened my mouth to speak. Then shut it again with a snap when Izzy’s voice penetrated the thick wood of my door from the hallway. She sounded strung out with worry or fear at being in my house all alone.

  “Z! Z, where the hell are you? Your house is freaking creepy, chica. Answer me or I’m going outside in the sunshine so a poltergeist doesn’t suck me into a TV!” More clumping footsteps. “I count it good nobody stabbed me in the shower!”

  My neck stretched as I yelled across my bedroom, “We’re in here!”

  A pause. “There’s too many doors! Where’s here?”

  Dom cupped his hands around his mouth, eyes twinkling with contained amusement. “Second door on your right after the hutch shaped like a wine bottle!”

  The door launched open so fast I flinched before the boom I knew was coming. It bounced off the rubberized protective circle mounted in line with the metal knob. Iz had to catch it one handed before it smacked back into her on the rebound. She leaned her whole body on the door handle, swinging it back and forth in an anxious dance. Her scrubs were dirt stained and wrinkled but her face looked fresh and her pink hair was slicked away from her forehead—still wet. The glitter eyelashes were gone. I considered that an improvement.

  “Sooo…you guys slept in the same bed? How in-ter-est-ing.”

  My face drew tight with envy. I could feel the squint starting to either side of my nose but I couldn’t stop myself. “How come you didn’t throw up last night? Totally not fair, Iz, you got to sleep it off while I yacked toenails.”

  She buffed the fingers of one hand against a breast and then stared at the lacquered squares, “It’s not my fault your rich girl genes are inferior.”

  Dom palmed his face. “I’m going downstairs for the bathroom and then I’ll cook breakfast. See you in a bit, Zena.”

  He started to walk away then stopped and turned toward me again. I wasn’t sure what he was about until his arms wrapped around me. The hug was short but fierce and Dom rubbed the sides of my biceps as he spoke.

  “I meant to tell you thank you for the store. I’m glad you’re home now, too. You never should’ve been sent away. Rowena is a rotten human being for letting it happen.”

  This close, the hazel in his irises made the black of his pupils darker and hypnotic. I kept looking deeper and deeper, hoping to find the bottom. Dominic blinked, breaking the spell, then leaned closer to kiss the top of my head.

  Dumbfounded, I managed to mumble, “Thank you?”

  When he angled sideways to pass Izzy she remarked, “I like my eggs over medium if you’re taking orders?”

  He winked and made a clicking noise in his teeth. “You got it.”

  She watched Dom until he was out of earshot and then skipped and hopped across the floorboards with glee. “Ooh, he’s a keeper, Z! Nice butt too.”

  My bladder was telling me if I sneezed or coughed right now it was a done deal, I’d wet my leg, so I turned away, making a beeline for the commode. Izzy was unfazed by my activities. Cold fingers gripped bony knees as I folded in half to rest my head on my legs.

  Iz finger-combed her hair in the mirror with her hips braced on the sink edge for balance. She hadn’t bothered to put on her shoes and her toes were cute little stubby things, all in a row. It made me want to recite a child’s rhyme about little piggy’s going to market.

  Our silence felt companionable. Just two completely normal girlfriends hanging together in a bathroom. One fussing over their looks while the other heeded the call of nature. This was nice.

  With my face so close to my pants I could smell the lingering scent of the institution. I didn’t like it. My mouth blurted before my head processed my reaction, “We need more clothes.”

  Izzy turned the cold water handle on max and scooped it into her mouth with loud sucking sounds. When she was done drinking, the white porcelain was soaked around the rim but she didn’t seem to notice.

  A crystalline drop hung suspended from her chin and fell to her neckline as she started to speak, “If we follow your prissy lawyer’s rules we can’t go shopping. Have you checked your closet?”

  I laughed at the thought of the high-waters I’d find in there. Maybe a dress or shorts would work. Maybe. Four
teen-year-old me had been a lot shorter and a little heavier in the middle. Ah puberty, the great torture of all humankind. At least my shoe size hadn’t changed much.

  Calves swaying, I wiggled my pants loose from my feet and wiped. “Not yet, but you’re free to rummage in there while I’m in the shower. Mi casa es su casa, chica.”

  “Ooh, I like! Keep it up, Z, and I’ll make you an honorary Mexican before you know it.”

  I chucked my dirty pants at her and she danced backward, giggling. “Get out so I can be naked in peace.”

  She’d seen it all before but this was my house and I was no longer a patient. A click was my answer as she closed the bathroom door. The dark wood cabinets were built flush with the wall over the toilet tank between the vanity and the shower. Fresh linens were stacked inside. Fletcher had sort of thought of everything. I was going to have to write him a bonus check or send him a fruit basket. Over the internet of course, since I was house bound. Bleh.

  My stomach growled and emitted juicy roiling noises. I pictured a half empty jug of water sloshing about. The urge to get downstairs to the kitchen made me move faster. A perfunctory, unrelaxing shower followed. I was out in minutes with only a fleeting impression of stained grout and steam.

  I used my towel to wipe the foggy vanity clear. Sunken amber eyes stared through the streaks of condensed water. Maybe it was the memory of my dream, I wasn’t sure, but all of a sudden the scent that I’d struggled to name when I first came into the house yesterday was back. It was hard to describe, a hint of expended butane and a raw meat aroma intertwined. Definitely not a comforting backyard grilling scent though, this was crisp and bordering on electric in my nostrils. A layer of it settled on the back of my tongue when I breathed in.

  Head bowed, I buried my face in my damp towel and tried to make it go away.

  Crack! My muscles went rigid. The towel fell away from my face as I searched for the source of the sound. I didn’t have to look long. Droplets of buoyant water floated around me. Black lines bent the mirror inward. In the center where a human fist could have easily fit, the mobile liquid pooled and writhed—alive. A thin tendril extended outward, aiming at the center of my forehead.