Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (28 page)

Marie drove across town and parked outside the bar.
 
It wouldn't open for a few more hours, but there was always paperwork to do, schedules, cleaning, supplies to order and maintain.
 
She unlocked the door, remembering to lock it behind her, and went to her office.
 
She threw herself into her work.
 
Two hours passed in silence.
 
She once again wished they had a jukebox.
 
Music would have been the perfect companion.

Her ears twitched when she heard the front door unlock.
 
Lifting her nose to the air, she picked up the familiar scent of apple, cinnamon, and daffodil.
 
A quiet whistling could be heard as lights outside the office turned on.

Rob shouted and put a hand over his heart as he turned into her office.

"Whoa!
 
Shit, Marie!"

He leaned over and patted his chest lightly.
 
Marie smiled as she pushed her laptop to the side.

"Jumpy, Rob?"

"I am when my boss leaps out of the shadows and take five years off my life."

"I didn't exactly leap out of the shadows."

"Eh, you might as well have.
 
I thought you were a monster."

"I've been called worse.
 
What are you doing here so early?"

"I figured I'd get an early start on setting up.
 
And…the cable's out at my place.
 
And also…I was thinking about cooking a quick burger.
 
But obviously, I would not do such a thing."

Marie laughed and waved the concern away.
 
"Go ahead."

"Want me to cook you one, too?"

"No thanks."

"Alright, let me know if you change your mind."
 
He turned to leave.
 
"Wait, what are
you
doing here so early?"

"I own the place.
 
That's what owners do."

Rob waited to hear the truth.
 
Marie rolled her eyes.

"Erica was buried today.
 
I wanted a distraction, take my mind off things."

He sat in the chair across from her desk.
 
Marie smiled as she glanced at him.
 
One of the few pictures she had of her parents hung on the wall behind his shoulder.
 
It was strategically placed, to allow them to watch over her as she worked.

"Yeah.
 
I'm sorry I couldn't make it.
 
I left from my other job and came straight here."

"It's okay.
 
There wasn't really a funeral or anything.
 
I feel terrible.
 
She came here to start over, and then gets murdered.
 
Just unreal."

"You should probably cut out early tonight.
 
Go out, try to have some fun."

Marie scoffed at the idea of fun.
 
Fun for her was being in the woods, and those nights seemed to stretch further and further apart.

"Fun.
 
What's fun?"

"Fun is being with me in a hot-tub.
 
And you in a bikini…."

He laughed as Marie simply gave him a look.

"Kidding!
 
I just wanted to see the look on your face."

She sighed and closed the laptop.
 
"Maybe I will take a night off tonight.
 
It's not like Wednesday's a real busy night."

He pointed at her.
 
"There you go.
 
Brett's been bugging for an extra night, too.
 
I'll give him a call."

Marie felt a load lift from her shoulders, and knew at that moment a night off was exactly what she needed.
 
The question was how to spend it.
 
A bubble bath, movie, and fast food, or a jaunt through the woods.

"Oh, there's one more thing," Rob said.
 
"This was Nia's idea, and I think she's right.
 
The whole thing with Erica…it has the girls spooked.
 
They want to keep a few bats under the bar.
 
Not a gun, but just something in case, you know."

"You think Erica was killed by someone that comes here?"

He held up his hands.
 
"I don't know what to think.
 
But Nia made the comment after that night about how it'd be so easy to follow her home from here.
 
And I can't blame her.
 
We're all on edge, just a little.
 
I figure a bat or two under the bar wouldn't hurt.
 
Besides, it's not like you'll always be here to throw the drunks out."

Marie laughed and shrugged her shoulders.
 
"Sure.
 
But don't go beating up the customers."

"I won't, boss la—…
dear
."

She gestured to the door.
 
"Get out of here.
 
Go cook something.
 
Maybe you'll get good enough to help Jerry."

She smiled as she watched Rob leave.
 
His personality, his energy would be a big help in getting through the current dark period.

*****

Jack sat in his rental car, looking at the apartment building before him.
 
He didn't understand Erica at all.
 
She'd sold her house near the beach and uprooted her life to move to a disgusting apartment in a backwater town in Montana.
 
He hated apartments and apartment life.
 
Surrounded by mortals, a wall, floor, and ceiling away.
 
Just the thought made his skin crawl.

Erica being gone forever had finally become
real
to him.
 
It wasn't real as he sat in his private jet.
 
It wasn't real when he arrived in Sandy Cliffs.
 
It wasn't even real when he touched her tombstone.
 
Perhaps there was still some mortal in him after all.
 
He'd clung to ridiculous denial, false hope.
 
He hoped when he walked off the jet that Erica would be right there waiting for him, to tell him none of it was true.
 
It was a case of mistaken identity, she'd faked her death, anything at all that ended in the opposite direction of her being gone.

But Erica was dead.

It wasn't real until he skimmed through the police report, which now sat on the passenger's seat.
 
He hadn't yet worked up the nerve to study it completely, but when flipping through his eyes fell on Erica's lifeless body.
 
He saw other details before he really saw her.
 
Her beautiful scar, one of her favorite blouses, a new pair of shoes.
 
His face twitched when he realized it was Erica.
 
He'd seen countless bodies in his time, and was responsible for many of them.
 
He didn't feel anything for them.
 
That was far from the case as he looked at his ex-girlfriend.

Jack would find who'd taken Erica from the world, and kill them.
 
If it was an accident, the killer would die.
 
If it was an old man in a wheelchair, he would die.
 
If it was twenty members of a cult, they would die.

He grabbed the police report as he left the car.
 
She lived on the top floor.
 
The apartment stairwell was empty.
 
His footsteps echoed as he ascended.
 
He fished the key from his coat pocket he'd rented from the young idiot manning the desk at the rental office.
 
Five hundred dollars.
 
Just a bit less than the cost of the police report.

He hesitated as he unlocked the door and deadbolt and rested his hand on the doorknob.
 
Part of him was nervous as to what he'd see in Erica's apartment, and he wasn't sure why.

He opened the door and stepped into the living room, closing the door behind him.

It felt like stepping into a time capsule.
 
The apartment hadn't been touched at all.
 
No doubt the police had come to investigate, but her belongings were still in place.
 
Jack imagined the place would be cleared out soon for the next tenant.

He took a breath and unleashed his senses, looking over the place.
 
The murder didn't happen at her apartment, but if there was any clue to point him in a direction, he'd find it.

Most of the furniture was from her old house.
 
He'd recognized the couch, where they sat and watched movies many times, among other things.
 
A small smile touched his lips when he saw the faint stain on the left cushion.
 
She'd gotten frisky when they were watching an old movie, and accidentally spilled her drink.

Jack shook the memory from his mind.
 
Staring at cushions on a couch would not help find her murderer.

He took note of the coffee table.
 
Erica still loved her clutter.
 
DVDs, an empty glass, papers, a black bra.
 
He recognized it as one of his favorites.

The wall behind the dining room table was full of pictures.
 
They were class photos, taken from Tiffany's school.
 
There was a framed photo for every year Erica taught.
 
The most recent photo still had Tiffany, before she changed classes.

It would be the last group of kids Erica taught.

Jack clenched his fist in anger.
 
Besides his curse, one other trait separated him from mortals.
 
His power of observation.
 
It wasn't that difficult, and he often wondered how mortals went through their short lives.
 
Flashing lights, loud noises, a pair of breasts, an erect penis, everything distracted them.
 
It was a miracle they didn't just stare at the pretty blue sky, their fingers pointing, drool running down their chins.
 
He prided himself on his simple ability to pay attention.

He'd solved murders before.
 
He could walk into an area and pick out details no on else could see.
 
He could look at a person and tell if they were lying.
 
A muscle twitch here, a stutter there.

He felt like a lowly mortal as he stood in Erica's apartment.
 
His simple ability to pay attention suddenly eluded him.

He didn't see clues or a replay in his mind of Erica's last night alive.
 
He saw memories.
 
There were still dirty dishes in the sink.
 
Erica always washed her dishes by hand.
 
She hated the idea of using both water and electricity with a dishwasher.
 
A towel hung over the open shower curtain.
 
Erica liked to reuse her towels, probably a few days longer than she should.

His heart sank more than he thought it would when he walked into her bedroom.

The covers were still scattered over the mattress.
 
Her slippers were under the bed on the side.
 
A hamper sat in the corner.
 
A short skirt and a blouse were neatly laid out on a new dresser.
 
She'd picked out one final outfit before her death.
 
For what purpose?
 
A date?

Jack slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a hole someone would have to fix.
 
The thought crossed his mind that he might not find Erica's killer.

Perhaps he'd kill every adult in town.
 
That would certainly solve his problem.

He dismissed the thought quickly.
 
That would be too expensive and time consuming.
 
Plus it wasn't something Tiffany would do.

Leaning against the wall, he opened Erica's police report for a closer look.
 
It was amazing how the report stripped away her very identity.
 
Erica Hernandez was only mentioned once, and then suddenly she was the
victim
or
deceased
.
 
Her job became her last place of employment.

She was the victim of a mugging.
 
Despite everything, Jack smiled at the report as he thought of Erica's stubbornness.
 
He was quite certain she fought back, and paid for it with her life.
 
She refused to be a
victim
.

Jack thought of her last place of employment as he noticed a picture on the dresser.
 
She stood with seven people in front of a bar, most likely the one mentioned in the report.
 
He could definitely see her in a short skirt, looking like only she could.

Nothing in the photo caught his attention.
 
The group was a collection of twenty and thirty-somethings.
 
One man had his arms wrapped around two women, a ridiculous look on his face.
 
Erica was smiling for the camera.
 
Jack wondered if it was the last photo ever taken of her before she died.

The woman on the end caught his attention.

Something was off about her.
 
Strawberry blond hair, short in height, nice body.
 
Certainly one-night worthy.
 
He couldn't tell from a single photo, but something ate at him.
 
Was it the smile?
 
Or the intensity in her eyes?
 
It almost looked like she didn't belong with the people around her.

Jack closed the report.
 
He knew what his next stop was.
 
Most bars didn't get lively until evening.
 
He'd kill some time, call his daughter, and visit Erica's place of work.