Bewitching the Beast Page 18

  Her eyes flared for an instant, shock and heartache darkening their depths. Nodding, she rose to her feet. “Idiot,” she muttered, and made her way to bed.

  Chapter 13

  Tess stared up at the brick brownstone, one of a long row lining the street. Brooklyn—once the home of painter Lee Krasner, wife of Jackson Pollock . . . and Jerry Greenfield of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream.

  Ethan’s boot crunched behind her in the light blanket of snow. Part of her latched on to the sound, relishing the tingle of awareness that crept up her spine with each step. The sane part of her slapped the notion upside the head. She walked toward a door decorated with a holiday wreath and caught the subtle scent of pine clinging to its branches.

  Ethan stepped up behind her. “Are you going to ignore me this entire trip?”

  She pressed the doorbell. “I’m not ignoring you. I have nothing to say.”

  “You? You have nothing to say. I find that hard to believe.”

  “What do you want anyway?” she asked, turning to face him. “For things to go back to the way they were before last night?” Too late, buddy. She cared about him. Maybe too much too soon, but she couldn’t help that. And no matter how well-meaning it was, his rejection hurt. “You can’t say one thing, do another, and expect me to be happy.”

  He frowned, exasperation plain on his face.

  Tess pivoted toward the door. “I think it would be best if we considered ourselves just business partners now.”

  “Business partners.”

  “Yes. Two people with the same goals—to stop Kade from killing me and to free you from the thing that’s taking over your body.”

  “I’m surprised you care about the second part anymore.”

  “I care.” Tess’s fingers brushed the plaid bow on the wreath. She shook her head. “Yesterday, when The Beast controlled me, I felt helpless. The Beast’s anger and contempt flowed through me. But the scary thing is that after a while I almost didn’t care. There’s something magnetic about him. He can make you feel content having him there.” She glanced over her shoulder into Ethan’s troubled eyes, and compassion she didn’t want to feel flooded through her. His jacket was unzipped despite the freezing cold, one more reminder of The Beast’s ever-increasing control. “When he threatened my mother, I realized what you must go through every time you take someone’s aura. While I had the power to fight him off to some extent, you don’t have the same luxury.”

  Ethan turned away, his jaw clenched, and Tess’s indignation melted.

  “I will get that thing out of you. I will.” Whatever it took, she would succeed. She had to. She reached out and grasped his gloved hand.

  He inhaled a sharp breath and jerked his hand away, the scrape of leather rough against her palm. Clearing his throat, he rang the doorbell again. “If anyone can defeat The Beast, it’s you.” His words were sincere, but his actions stung.

  “The only way I’m going to pull this off is if we’re open and honest with one another,” she snapped.

  His brows lowered. “I have been.”

  “Oh, you have been.” She pointed to his hand. “What about the glove? You refuse to tell me why you wear it.”

  His face hardened. “I’ve always told you what you needed to know.”

  “Then lately all you think I need to know is that we can’t be together until The Beast is gone, end of discussion, no matter how I feel.”

  His gaze locked onto hers. “Even without The Beast, I’m no good for you. I carry too much baggage, too many memories of good people I’ve destroyed.”

  The door opened a few inches. An elderly woman peered out, her white hair curled close to her head as if she’d just come from a beauty shop.

  Ethan stepped forward. “Mrs. Meade?”

  The woman nodded. Her wary eyes took them in, and she frowned.

  “We spoke yesterday. I’m Ethan Lockwood, and this is Tess Edwards. We were hoping to talk to you about your husband’s research.”

  Her frown softened. “All right. Come in.” She unhooked the chain and led them to a clean and orderly living room in muted shades of cream. Years’ worth of knickknacks and wall decorations crowded most every surface. Someone had been busy. Apparently Mrs. Meade had shopped while her husband had been away.

  A half-finished jigsaw puzzle lay on a card table in the corner, a field of daisies waiting to be pieced together. Tess resisted the inexplicable pull to the table. Who didn’t have the itch to search for the next piece of an unfinished jigsaw puzzle?

  Mrs. Meade settled herself on a plush easy chair with a tall floor lamp behind her and a knitting basket at her feet.

  Tess sank onto the couch across from her, while Ethan hovered nearby, debating where to park it. Before she had a chance to point out the recliner on the far side of the room, he sat on the cushion next to her. Great. Tell me we can never be together and then cozy up.

  “I’m a huge fan of your husband’s,” he said as confusion crossed his face at Tess’s glare. “Until recently, I didn’t realize he lived in New York.”

  Mrs. Meade glanced between the two of them with a spark of interest in her eye. “We have a daughter here.”

  “How nice.” Tess pushed aside her annoyance with Ethan. “Do you see her often?”

  The older woman stiffened. “I see her now and again, but that’s not what you’ve come here to discuss, is it?”

  Touchy.

  “You’re right,” Ethan jumped in. “I’m interested in learning more about your husband’s last expedition.”

  “That one,” Mrs. Meade groused. “It could have been his greatest discovery.”

  “Could have been?” Ethan leaned forward on the edge of his seat, his thigh inches away.

  Mrs. Meade huffed out a harsh laugh. “Leonard was obsessed with the idea of dragons for as long as I’d known him. Uncovered those bones in the cave and was convinced he’d finally found one. Had to tell the world.” She shook her head. “Stupid man. Could have called it a winged dinosaur. But no, Leonard had to tell it like it was. Dragon he’d declared, as if the rest of the world would be as excited about his find as he was.”

  Shifting in her seat, Tess tried to ignore the warmth radiating off Ethan. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t the discovery of a dragon be a great find?”

  “To some, maybe. The media had fun with it. Big headlines and such.” Mrs. Meade picked up an unfinished piece from her knitting basket and added stitches, her hands a blur of movement. “The scientific community wasn’t amused. Insisted there had never been such an animal. Called my husband a fraud.” The tight stitches she’d added curled the edge of her knitting. “After all those years in the field—missing birthdays, holidays, school events—he was a laughingstock.” Noticing the results of her work, Mrs. Meade tugged the stitches loose.

  “I disagree,” Ethan pressed. “Your husband found something amazing, and I’d like to learn more. Do you mind if we take a look at Dr. Meade’s journals?”

  A spark of excitement lit the widow’s eyes. “Are you an archeologist?”

  “No.” Ethan sat back.

  “A professor?”

  “Just someone with an interest in dragons.”

  “I see.” Disappointment laced her voice. “Well, I suppose you can. The journals aren’t worth anything anyway.” Mrs. Meade packed her knitting into the basket and rose from her chair, using the armrests to ease herself up. “The only other person to show any true interest had been Mr. Rennick.”

  “Kade Rennick?” Tess had hoped his name would come up.

  Mrs. Meade started down a long narrow hall. “You know him?”

  She and Ethan tagged after her. “I’m Kade’s sister,” Tess replied, the lie slipping off her tongue so easily it might have been the truth.

  Ethan shot her a look
.

  She ignored him. The lie worked last time. Might as well be consistent.

  “I see.” Mrs. Meade stopped and faced them. “You didn’t know he was financing my husband’s expedition?”

  Whoops. Tess brushed past Ethan. “We haven’t seen each other in quite some time. I’ve been searching for him. You wouldn’t happen to have his address, or a way to contact him, would you?”

  The widow stared at Tess as if tempted to call her on the lie. Instead she continued down the hall. “I haven’t seen him since the funeral. He did all of his business in person. I don’t know where he lives, and I don’t have any intention of ever seeing him again.”

  “Why is that?” Ethan asked.

  “He and my husband had a disagreement hours before the plane crash.” Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Rennick was a nosy one—wanted to be updated immediately on any new finds.” She entered a study.

  Tess followed her inside. Images of dragons papered the walls, along with research data and photographs from excavations. She stepped closer to a sketch of a woman in white robes, her dark hair hanging past her shoulders. On her head perched a large headdress, something like a ball caught between two branches. The title on the bottom of the page consisted of one word, “Isis.” The magical goddess from the legend. Interesting. Tess moved to the next image, a photograph of the infamous cave, the same picture printed in the newspaper at Ethan’s apartment. “What did Kade and your husband fight about?”

  “A necklace. Leonard brought it home from the dig. He and Mr. Rennick studied it for quite some time.”

  “What did the necklace look like?” Ethan asked.

  Mrs. Meade shrugged. “Just a large gold chain with a gem attached.”

  Tess glanced over at Ethan, who’d been poring over the pictures farther along the wall. Their eyes met. His held a glimmer of hope.

  He turned to Mrs. Meade. “What happened to it?”

  “Your brother was a greedy man, Tess.” Mrs. Meade’s voice had a sharp edge.

  The widow’s accusing glare nailed Tess right between the eyes.

  “Kade took the necklace for himself. Said he needed it for something. My husband threatened to sue but died before he got the chance.”

  “I’m sorry.” She could think of nothing else to say. Damn her brother.

  Mrs. Meade’s gaze sank to the tan carpet. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I wouldn’t fight for the stupid stone even if I could afford the lawyer.”

  “What about the mirror your husband found?” Ethan pressed.

  “Lost during shipping if you can believe it.” Mrs. Meade rolled her eyes. “This whole expedition turned into a mess.” Her shoulders sagged as she pointed to a desk in the corner. “Leonard’s journals are in the left drawer.”

  Ethan crossed the room and attempted to open the drawer. When it wouldn’t budge, he tugged harder. The deep wooden drawer jerked free from its track and landed with a thump on Ethan’s shoe.

  “Son of a bitch!” He yanked his foot from beneath the drawer filled to the brim with books and binders, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  “Oh my. I forgot. It’s a bit touchy,” Mrs. Meade muttered. “Are you all right?”

  Ethan managed a pained smile. “Fine. Just fine.”

  A telephone jingled down the hall.

  “The phone. Could be my daughter. I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Meade hurried out the door.

  “How’s your foot?” Tess asked as Ethan hobbled around the room.

  “I said I’m fine,” he insisted, then grumbled, “Might lose a toe, but otherwise I’m good.”

  “Don’t be a baby.” She pulled out the desk chair. “Here. Sit down, and let me take a look.”

  Scowling, he settled into the seat and eased the worn boot off his right foot. He gingerly removed the sock. Beneath, his big toe looked angry and red.

  Tess squatted next to him and reached out.

  He winced before her hand came anywhere near his foot. “Don’t touch it.”

  “I’m just going to . . .” She gently tested the length of his toe.

  Ethan jerked his foot away. “Youch. Stop.”

  Heaving a sigh, Tess knelt on the floor. “Can you move your toe?”

  “Yes, but it hurts.”

  She patted him on the knee. “I think you’ll live. You might lose the nail though.” Her fingers tingled with the touch. She resisted the temptation to rest her hand on his leg and feel his full effect on her. Instead, she came to her senses and moved her hand away.

  “What sympathy,” he groused as he scrunched up his sock and placed it over his toes.

  “Would you like me to kiss it?” She cursed to herself as soon as the words were out.

  Ethan paused to study her with curious eyes. “Funny,” he finally said, tugging his sock over the rest of his foot. He bent down to retrieve his boot, and his hair tickled her cheek.

  A shiver raced through her, and she batted the hair away. He looked up at her, his brows drawn, his eyes inches from hers.

  Her breath stuck in her throat. “Your hair . . . It was . . . it . . .” Tess’s brains turned to mush under his close scrutiny.

  His gaze focused on her lips, and she swallowed in an attempt to wet her dry throat.

  “In my face. Your hair was in my face,” she finished as her cheeks burned. She slid back on her butt and twisted around to half crawl to her feet. The weak laugh that bubbled up was pathetic. “Hmm, first you hit your thumb with a hammer, then you drop a drawer on your toe. You’re getting as bad as me.”

  Ethan dropped his foot into his boot, groaning from the motion. “These accidents are bad news.”

  “Nobody likes accidents, but some of us—”

  “The Beast usually feeds again before bad luck strikes me. He never waits this long.” He hoisted the drawer onto its track and studied the books inside.

  “Why this time? Why would he wait?”

  Ethan paged through a notebook he found near the top of the stack. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s too busy protecting you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’re running out of time. Soon The Beast will have no choice but to feed.”

  “Oh, shit. I’ll talk to Mom. We’ll try the banishing soon, maybe tonight, before The Beast has a chance to hurt someone else.”

  “Agreed.”

  Tess reached for a book in the drawer when Ethan murmured, “Here it is.” He read from the journal in his hand. “The gem was green in color, much like a Peridot, but different.”

  “The August birthstone,” Tess muttered.

  Ethan cast her an odd look.

  “What? My sister’s birthday is in August.”

  He scanned over the page again. “Says here, this stone has an unusual composition unlike anything Dr. Meade had ever seen before.” Ethan’s finger followed the words written. “He had the gem appraised both for value and historical significance.”

  “And?”

  Surprise touched his face. “It’s worthless.”

  “How can that be? You said the stone had unique properties.” Tess peered at the book in his hands. “It’s an Egyptian artifact for God’s sake.”

  “Apparently Meade’s insistence he’d discovered the remains of a dragon damaged the authenticity of the expedition. No reputable collectors will touch the gem.”

  “Then why did Kade want it so badly?”

  “Good question.” Ethan hobbled to the pictures along the wall. “Meade finds an Egyptian cave, and he’s convinced he’s found dragon bones. Among them, he finds a mirror—like in the legend of Isis and the dragon.” He stopped before a picture of the goddess. “In the story, she banishes a dragon spirit to another realm.”

  Tess moved toward him, f
itting the pieces of the puzzle together. “The beasts are dragon spirits released from a magical dimension.”

  “Right. The gem may have been used to send them there.”

  “Which means we can use it again.”

  He set the notebook on the desk and flipped another page. “Why else would Kade have taken it? He’s protecting himself and his kind.”

  Excitement bubbled up. Hot damn. “We’ve finally got a solid lead on how to bring down the dragons.” Tess stepped to the picture of the cave she’d seen earlier, a photo of Dr. Meade crouched low over his find, and reality sank in. “A lot of good it does us. Kade Rennick has the gem, and we have no idea where he is.”

  ~ ~ ~

  From the taxi window, Tess caught a glimpse of flashing red and blue lights up ahead—lots of them. “What’s going on up there?” she asked, breaking the silence that had held since they’d left Mrs. Meade’s house.

  The cab slowed to a stop, the traffic too thick to move.

  “Can’t tell,” Ethan replied, peering through the windshield. “Whatever it is, it’s close to your apartment building.”

  Her stomach knotted, and a creepy feeling tingled down her spine. “Mom?” Grabbing her purse, she searched for her wallet with trembling fingers. “Let’s get out now.”

  “I’ve got it.” Ethan passed cash up to the driver.

  Tess left the cab and sprinted down the sidewalk toward the lights, with Ethan close on her heels. The usual din of the city faded, replaced by her pounding pulse. Yellow caution tape roped off one lane of traffic in front of her building. And in the middle of the pavement lay a tarp-covered body. Oh, God, no.

  Tess rushed toward the tape, her breath coming in puffs. A policeman blocked her way. “No one gets past the tape, ma’am.”