Bewitching the Beast Page 23

  Her hands shook so badly the paper rattled as she struggled to draw in another breath. She’d helped Matt’s mother write this obituary. The poor woman had been too overcome with grief to do it on her own. Tess ran a finger over the picture. Those goofy sideburns. She’d tried to get him to shave them off.

  The picture blurred as tears flooded her eyes. He’d never mentioned an attack. Then again, the day he died, he’d gone for a run while she’d been at work. When she’d come home, she found him on the floor in their bedroom. He’d struggled for air, his face purple. Her stomach turned to stone. He hadn’t had the chance to tell her what had happened.

  The paper fell from her fingers and fluttered to the carpet. Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed her things and left the apartment, rushing outside into the buzzing city. Away. She needed to get away.

  Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she threw her arm into the air for a taxi. She lowered it when she spied a cab parked halfway down the block. A man in a dark sweatshirt, the hood pulled up, stepped from the back seat. A black winter scarf protected his face from the chill.

  In a daze, Tess walked toward the cab but stopped as another taxi pulled up next to the curb where she stood. Even better. She climbed in.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked.

  One place came to mind—the same place she’d sought comfort when thoughts of Matt dragged her down. “The Museum of Natural History.”

  Within minutes, the welcome sight of the building’s concrete pillars came into view. She handed over the cab fare and hurried inside. The echo of voices and the sight of Barry, the barosaurus skeleton in the atrium, calmed her. Avoiding curious stares as she sniffled and wiped her eyes, she paid the entrance fee and wandered through the crowded halls she’d come to know so well. Oh, Matt. The pain she’d thought long gone now ate at her insides.

  What kind of cruel joke was this? Damn you, Ethan. He’d told her he’d seen Matt’s death through her memories, not that he’d caused it. Why didn’t you tell me?

  The Asian elephant diorama loomed up before her much sooner than she expected, and she almost ran into its raised platform. Barely seeing the giants through her tears, she searched her coat for a tissue, finding a rumpled one in her pocket. She wiped her nose and tried to steady herself with a deep breath.

  All this time. No wonder Ethan resisted any sort of relationship with her. Did she listen to him, to her mother? No. Instead, she’d let herself fall in love with the man responsible for Matt’s death.

  Tucking the tissue into her pocket, she trudged ahead past the Chinese wedding chair that had always intrigued her. Now she barely gave it a glance.

  What had she done to deserve this? Would she ever feel whole again? An Eastern Siberian shaman diorama came into view, and Tess stood before the glass. Inside, the scene depicted a healing ritual to save an ailing woman. Tess studied the shaman and the instruments he used—a drum, tobacco, and a chain around his waist held by an assistant.

  How many times had she passed by this spot? And only now did she realize the shaman wasn’t focused on the woman’s body, but her soul. He fought the evil imprisoning her spirit. Tess imagined Ethan sprawled in the woman’s place, writhing as The Beast clawed its way into his very soul.

  Her insides knotted so tight she felt like doubling over. She turned from the scene, fighting more tears. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a guy in a black sweatshirt and scarf, his hood pulled up. From the taxi at Ethan’s apartment? Her spine tingled in warning, and she slowly pivoted away. He hadn’t seen her, at least that she could tell.

  Acting on frazzled nerves, she edged toward the exit and left the exhibit. She took the stairs but stopped midstep. What was she doing? Could anyone say paranoia? The guy had done nothing threatening or suspicious. She rolled her eyes and descended to the first floor where the aroma of grilled chicken and toasted bread drifted from the café. Her once favorite spot held no appeal.

  Weaving through the crowd, she slipped into the Hall of Human Origins, with its glossy floors and black ceiling. She wandered restlessly past the skeletons and cavemen who held court there. Matt had walked these same halls on his rounds as a security guard. His feet could have touched the very spot she stood. She rubbed her breastbone, but it did nothing to soothe the bone-deep ache there.

  In the Hall of Minerals and Gems, she forced herself to study the exhibits, anything to ease the pain. The Star of India caught her eye—an enormous grey-blue sapphire with a six-point star shining out, as if the gem itself were filled with white light eager to escape through any crack. With a determined sigh, she dutifully read the plaque beside the gem. Stolen from the museum in ’64 by Murph the Surf. Murph the Surf? A burglar with a goofy name like that wouldn’t have stood a chance against Matt if he’d been on duty. She sniffed back another round of tears. Matt had never complained about the odd jobs he’d taken to help pay the rent. All so she could go to art school to pursue a dream that would never come true. Another stab of grief pierced her heart.

  Her chest hurting, she stepped to the next display, where a picture of the Hope Diamond adorned a description plate. Housed in the Smithsonian, the Hope Diamond had been taken from a Hindu idol. Legend had it that any who possessed the jewel would be cursed with bad luck. Cursed with bad luck. She knew the feeling.

  A shoulder nudged Tess aside. She stared up at a well-dressed businessman. He didn’t apologize or glance her way. Geez, rude much? Tess bit her tongue. What was the point? Some people were simply jerks. She turned away and spied him. The guy in the sweatshirt and scarf slipped through the crowd as if he owned the room. The dim light and his raised hood shadowed his face, but his glowing green eyes pierced the darkness. Fear prickled down the back of her neck. Kade.

  A full dose of ‘oh shit’ rushed through her system. She pressed through the museumgoers, jostling shoulders to get through. As she neared the last table in the Hall of Gems, a woman pushing a stroller blocked her path, the baby inside crying in huge gasping sobs. Tess tried to go around, and the mother backed up. Her heavy diaper bag smacked into Tess’s chest. “Stay here,” the woman commanded.

  What the . . .? She looked like a typical new mom, with her brown hair thrown into a ponytail and a spit-up stain on her shirt, but her eyes were dazed, like she’d been put in a trance. Crap. Glancing over her shoulder, Tess shoved the woman out of her way. Kade wasn’t far behind, and his gaze was fixed solely on her.

  She ran for the Hall of Human Origins, racing by tables of minerals and meteorites before dodging through dioramas of human evolution. If Kade could control people, why didn’t he lock minds with her and end this thing?

  Darting around a row of cavemen, she almost ran headlong into a tour group. A clean-cut teenage boy with glazed eyes grabbed her arm. The smell of his aftershave nearly bowled her over. “Sorry,” she muttered, stomping on his instep.

  He grunted and released her as his hands clasped his injured foot.

  She sprinted ahead. Curious eyes turned her way. “Help me,” she yelped in a small voice, strangely reluctant to break the sacred tranquility of the museum. “Can someone help me?” she yelled a bit louder. And do what? Become mindless zombies for the dragon man chasing her. Funny how no one moved to help the crazy lady running by.

  “What’s the problem, ma’am?” A security guard came out of nowhere, a dark-skinned man with a gravelly voice and unfocused eyes.

  Dammit.

  The guard clasped her arm in a vise-like grip no amount of squirming could break. This time she wouldn’t escape.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ethan reached out and found nothing but cool rumpled sheets beside him. “Tess?” He grabbed his jeans from the floor and did a quick scan of the carpet. Tess’s clothes were gone.

  He cringed. What they’d done was wrong. He’d been a selfish fool. The closer they became, the more Tess would eve
ntually suffer, and he couldn’t stand the thought of Tess in pain.

  The scanner’s chatter broke the silence in the apartment. He snatched a shirt from the closet and left the bedroom. “Tess?” Slipping on the shirt, he checked the kitchen and came up empty. The bathroom? Not there. She was gone. His folder was still on the floor, the mess of papers he’d left now neatly stacked with the exception of one. He bent down and reached for the errant page. An obituary for Matthew Kiel. He studied the picture, and recognition dawned—the memory he’d witnessed from Tess. Matt. Tess’s Matt. His fingers clenched the page until the paper wrinkled and tore under the pressure. Why hadn’t he remembered? Dammit. She must hate him. Ethan raced to his bedroom and yanked on his socks and boots. He had to find her so he could . . . What? What could he possibly say? No words could excuse what he’d done. An ache filled his chest, and his movements slowed. Tess should hate him. She deserved so much better. He sank down onto the bed. What’s more, he deserved to be alone. He’d always been alone.

  The scanner droned on, a consoling sound he’d come to depend on. 11:21. Stolen vehicle found. Dropping his head in his hands, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He should let Tess go. He was another complication in her life.

  10-54. Woman injured. Ambulance needed at Museum of Natural History. A tremor of unease snaked down his spine.

  Tess’s words came back to haunt him. I go to the American Museum of Natural History when I think my head is going to explode.

  Son of a bitch. Ethan jumped off the bed and tore into the living room. What had he been thinking? Tess wasn’t safe out there all alone. What if Kade found her? He grabbed his coat and headed out. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he hailed a taxi and climbed in. “Seventy-ninth and Central Park West.” The city outside the window blurred, his mind on Tess—her soft gray eyes searching his face, and the love he’d read there. “Can’t we go any faster?”

  The museum came into view. Sweat broke out on his forehead at the sight of two police cars and an ambulance parked out front.

  When the taxi pulled up to the curb, Ethan tossed some cash into the front seat and bolted out the door. He took the museum steps three at a time. Inside, Kade’s presence enveloped him, and dread burrowed itself inside his chest. Striding up to the information desk, he butted to the head of a short line. “I need your help locating someone.”

  The elderly woman behind the counter pursed her red lips. “You’ll need to wait your turn.”

  He didn’t have time for this. “You don’t understand.” Ethan glared at the old woman. Didn’t this museum have enough fossils on display? “My wife, she called. She was injured.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, and her lips formed a perfect ‘o.’ Handing him an admission badge, she leaned in close. Her breath smelled of stale coffee. “I’m so sorry. Take the first set of stairs, down one flight, and turn left.”

  He bounded through the exhibit entrance. Locating the stairs, he flew down the steps. Before he reached the floor below, Tess’s voice rang out.

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital. Does anyone have a phone?”

  Ethan blew out the breath he’d been holding. She was all right. Thank God.

  Tess sat on a bench surrounded by EMTs and a cop. “I’m sorry for causing all of this trouble, but I’m feeling better now. Must have been indigestion.”

  While the policeman spoke into a radio on his shoulder, an EMT with a Pancho Villa moustache bent low beside Tess. “Listen, ma’am. You should get checked out. If you have an appendicitis, this could be serious. When the pain goes away, it could mean your appendix has burst.”

  “Look, my insurance doesn’t cover ambulance rides. So unless this one’s on the house . . .” Tess’s gaze caught Ethan’s. A mixture of pain and relief flooded her face.

  “Ma’am, this isn’t something to play around with,” the mustached man insisted as his partner rolled her eyes and packed up.

  “I’ll take my chances.” Tess stood and approached Ethan.

  Despite her snark, Tess’s whole body trembled. Ethan stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Overwhelming relief pumped through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, but he held back. “You okay?”

  She strode past him. “Let’s go.”

  He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Hold on. What happened back there?”

  “Kade. He’s what happened.” Shrugging off his touch, she kept walking.

  “What did he do?”

  Her brows lowered. “He controlled the minds of people visiting the museum—a mother, a student . . .”

  “Why?”

  “To prevent me from escaping.”

  “He could have done that by controlling you. Anyone within his sight is vulnerable to his power.” Ethan scrutinized every face, every movement. Kade was still here. He could feel him.

  “I know. I don’t get it either.” She shook her head. “Eventually, he controlled the mind of a security guard who dragged me to an employee door.”

  His stomach clenched, and he had to remind himself she was safe, for now.

  “I put my high school theater work to use.” Her gaze caught and held on a small coffee kiosk in the lobby. “I fell to the floor moaning about the pain and needing a doctor. I must have seen twenty cell phones come out for that one.”

  Smart. “What did Kade do?”

  “He disappeared.”

  Disappeared, but he hadn’t gone far. Kade’s essence blanketed this place like a fog.

  An odd look crossed her face, and she inhaled a long breath. “Mom’s tea.”

  “What?” Ethan focused on the exit. He had to get her out of here.

  “The tea Mom brewed before the banishing, that’s what protected me from Kade getting into my head.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  Tess stiffened. “Well something prevented his mind control.”

  “Even if the tea helped you, don’t forget he’s dangerous. Never underestimate him.” Today could have had an entirely different outcome. “No matter what happens, don’t leave me again.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. “You have no right . . .”

  The pain in her eyes sliced through him. “Tess, I’m sorry, about Matt—”

  She raised a hand to stop him from saying more. “Don’t go there.” Her voice shook, and she rubbed her temples.

  “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  “No.” She dropped her hand but didn’t so much as glance his way. “I told you I’d help you, and I will. Let’s go to the gallery. I want to check out where I saw the dragon on your hand, the one I sketched last night.”

  Pale and shaking, she looked fragile. “We don’t need to do this right now,” he insisted.

  She stepped toward the door. “Are you coming?”

  The determination on her face said it all. He had no choice. She was going with or without him.

  Chapter 18

  “I know it’s here somewhere.” Tess passed through the gallery, scanning the artwork mounted on the walls. The dragon painting she’d seen couldn’t be a coincidence. Whoever created it knew something about the beasts.

  “I didn’t see any dragons when I was here last, and I’m sure I looked at every painting.” Ethan followed close behind—too close. “Let me take you home. We can come back later when you’re less stressed.”

  Her hand itched to slap him. What did he want her to do—crawl into a corner and cry? Okay, that did sound pretty good, but it wouldn’t take away the pain. It wouldn’t give Matt’s death meaning.

  Tess moved on to the next display. Her eyes sore from crying, she squeezed her lids shut. She remembered the painting so clearly, an acrylic in dark colors, the dragon black against a fiery red sky. Now wher
e the hell was it? She always knew the placement of every piece, and today was no exception. Opening her eyes, she studied the room once more. Everything appeared in perfect order. Someone must have switched them out. “We’ll have to check in back.”

  She led Ethan past the front desk, where their college intern sat playing solitaire on the computer. That one, with her mismatched artsy outfits, seemed more in love with the idea of being an artist than actually creating art. At least she answered the phone well.

  Tess headed to a storage room and turned on the light. “Did I see it in here?” She flipped through the rack of paintings yet to be hung, trying hard to ignore Ethan as he leaned against the doorframe. Her chest hurt, and her head was fuzzy. She could use a hug about now. Anyone would do, except Ethan. His lithe body took up most of the doorway. She inhaled. He always smelled so good. She wished she could forget the obituary she’d found this morning. Then maybe she could walk into Ethan’s arms and find the comfort she needed. But she couldn’t forget. The moment would forever be branded into her memory. “It’s not here.”

  She stepped toward the door, ready to leave, and Ethan leaned back to give her room. Careful to keep her distance, she scooted around him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Holly?” Tess croaked out. Clearing her throat, she hurried to Holly’s office and rapped on the door. “You back here?”

  Holly opened the door, and a bright smile lit her face. “Hey, how’s your mom?”

  “Good.” At least she had been the last time Tess checked. Dang, what a lousy daughter. She’d have to call the hospital later. And crud. She was a lousy friend too. “How are things between you and Wade?”

  Holly frowned when Ethan came to stand at Tess’s side. “We’re good. We talked on the phone this morning and made up.” She turned toward her desk and the uneven piles of paper awaiting her attention. An ever-present box of chocolate bars for the Art for Kids charity sat on the corner of the desk, not that Holly ever ate any of them. “Are you ready to come back?”