Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (38 page)

Marie tuned him out.

She turned on the television on her way to the kitchen.
 
Her stomach grumbled as she stared into the bare fridge.
 
A sarcastic smile crossed her face.
 
Werewolves didn't need to eat.
 
They wouldn't die from starvation.
 
But they did get hungry.
 
She imagined, with no income and her savings rapidly dwindling, she'd be forced to hunt for her food soon.

At least she had an advantage in that area.

She kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her vest, wearing only a tee shirt.
 
She nearly fell on the couch, hoping the soft cushions would absorb some of her pain.
 
Apparently the couch was broken.
 
It absorbed nothing.

The lone item she'd taken from the ruined bar, the picture of her parents, was where she'd left it, on the coffee table.
 
She picked it up and stared at it, alone with her thoughts and whatever commercial was playing on television.

"I'm sorry, Mom, Dad."
 
A tear escaped.
 
"I tried.
 
I really did."

Marie didn't regret the lifestyle she'd chosen.
 
She kept people at a distance on purpose.
 
Still, at that moment, she would have given anything to have someone to talk to.
 
A shoulder to cry on, as sappy as it sounded.
 
If Erica were still alive, she would have invited her over.
 
They could have had simple girl talk, whatever that was.
 
Eat chocolate, watch a movie.
 
They could have poked fun at each others' sad lives.
 
But Erica was taken from the world much too soon.

Marie had no one.

She had no friends, no pack.
 
She had no one to check on her to see how she was doing, or vice versa.
 
All she had was the night and a few ex-employees.
 
She thought of calling Rob, who always seemed to have a joke ready.
 
She hadn't talked to him since before the bar burned.
 
As tempting as it was, she was certain he'd have his share of flirty remarks, always trying to get her into bed.

Would that be such a bad thing?

Perhaps a one night stand with an attractive young man was exactly what she needed.
 
Something, anything at all to take her mind from her misery.
 
She knew she drew the looks, even if she didn't want to.
 
Why not take advantage of it?

She shook the lustful thoughts from her mind.
 
She wasn't going to tour Sandy Cliffs with the intention of stripping some young man naked.
 
What young man was interested in an unemployed woman with tears running down her face?

Sadly, probably many.

Marie laughed at the thought, and caught a glimpse of the sky through the patio door.
 
If she had to choose between running through the woods, or dejectedly watching television on the couch, the woods won every time.

She locked the apartment behind her and circled the building, like she'd done many times before.
 
Normally, she'd be excited at the thought of a night in the woods.
 
Now she merely hoped to move up to not depressed.
 
Excitement could wait for another day.

She was nearly to the stump when a vaguely familiar scent found her.
 
She lifted her nose to the air.
 
It was like a quick, fleeting glance at a face in a crowd, and then it was gone.

The stump waited for her.
 
She stripped naked, folding her clothes neatly.
 
The change had more pain than pleasure.
 
Tears soaked the fur along her eyes as she stood up on four legs, her vision adjusting to the darkness.
 
She leaned back and howled, a soulful sound.
 
She didn't care what apartment dwellers might hear.

Marie ran.
 
She ran from the pain.
 
She ran from the loneliness.
 
For the first time in many decades, she ran from what she was.

*****

Jack sat in yet another rental car and glanced over the information he'd gathered over the past twenty-four hours about Marie Johnson, which wasn't much.
 
If the wonderfully exotic name didn't tip him off, the forged identity certainly would have.
 
Her driver's license, birth certificate, the deed to that bar she owned, all faked.
 
The forgeries were good, obviously done by a professional.
 
But he'd gone through enough identity changes in his lifetime to recognize the signals.

Marie Johnson was not who she claimed to be.

He was curious, but only slightly.
 
In the end, it ultimately didn't matter.
 
It didn't matter if she was on the run from mobsters, a jealous ex-boyfriend, or a pack of wild mice.
 
If she had anything to do with Erica's death, or his own attempted murder, he would kill her.
 
Then he would go back and kill her little bartender minion.

Despite his research, the only photo he had was her driver's license.
 
They were typically deceptive, but the woman looked cute, probably more than cute.
 
Twenty-nine years old, strawberry-blond hair.
 
Five-foot four inches tall.
 
Short little thing.
 
He tried to imagine the woman staring at him from the photo running a bar.

He stared at her apartment building.
 
Her apartment was on the second floor.
 
There were no windows in the front.
 
If he wanted to get a glimpse of her, he'd have to move around back, which he wasn't ready for.
 
The beat-down car registered to her sat in the lot, so he knew she was home.

Jack found himself thinking of Tiffany, and could think of no better time to give her a call.
 
He called on the iPad, and was overjoyed when she actually answered instead of the witch.
 
He was also surprised to see a slightly different expression on her face.

She wasn't miserable.
 
In fact, she looked happy.

"Daddy!"

Jack laughed, and his heart melted.
 
"Hey, sweetie."

"When are you coming home?"

"Soon."
 
That was the first question she asked on all their calls.
 
"How's everything going over there?"

"Great!
 
Me and Kevin—"

"Kevin and I."

Her lip nearly curled into a snarl, mimicking her father.
 
It was adorable.

"
Kevin and I
…are getting ready to pick out a movie."

"Really?
 
No shit?
 
You two are friends now?"

"Yeah!
 
I never got the chance to tell you what he did at my sleepover—"

"Whoa, Tiff!" Kevin called in the distance.
 
"Come over here and pick out a movie."

The scenery jostled and shifted as Tiffany handed the tablet to Kevin.
 
The witch's face sheepishly peered back at him, his cheeks red.

"Glinda," Jack said.
 
"What the hell is going on over there?"

"Nothing, nothing.
 
We're getting along great."

"I can see that."
 
He regarded Kevin carefully.
 
"How are you and your woman?"

"I thought you didn't care?"

"I don't.
 
I'm just trying to get a better read on you."

"Eh, we've talked.
 
She hasn't come over, though.
 
She's still a little upset about the college paper thing."

"That's because you're a dead-beat."

True anger crossed Kevin's face.
 
Little lines in the forehead, a fire in the eye.

"Excuse me?"

"I've told you before.
 
Leese is a hard working girl.
 
You take shortcuts."

"I just don't know what I want to do."

"Well, it's about time you figured it out, unless you want to be a professional babysitter."

"Are we done here, Dad?" Kevin said.
 
"The movie's starting."

"We're done.
 
And don't ever call me that again.
 
Take care of my little girl."

"That's what I've been doing."

"Then keep doing it."

Kevin ended the call with an angry stab of the finger.
 
Jack laughed, still wondering how Victoria resisted killing him when they first met.

He'd set the tablet down, and just finished another important phone call when he saw a familiar figure leave the building.
 
It was Marie.
 
The driver's license didn't do her justice.
 
She was a beautiful woman with an alluring figure, hair down to her shoulders.
 
She walked with confidence, but Jack could see the sadness.

Marie didn't go to her car.

Jack watched as she circled around the apartment building.
 
He thought she was going for a walk, but instead headed straight for the tree line behind the building.
 
She stopped just before she disappeared, and did something Jack had seen way too many times.

She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed, short, then long.
 
Her nose twitched as she brushed her hair behind her.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jack said.

Marie stepped into the woods, leaving the apartment complex behind.
 
Even without saying a single word to her, Jack had serious doubts about Rob's story.
 
Still, there was no harm in investigating.

He left the car and followed her trail around the side of the building.
 
Her front door was certainly locked.
 
Still, it wasn't exactly difficult to break in.
 
He counted the apartments until he found hers, and pulled himself up to her patio.
 
There was a bar bracing the patio door closed.
 
He slipped in part of a wire hanger through the crack, a trick Victoria had shown him.
 
It took a minute, but he managed to lift the bar from the rubber grommet holding it in place.
 
The patio door slid open with no trouble.

Stepping inside the apartment brought a sense of déjà vu.
 
The dwelling remind him of Erica's, only on a much larger scale.
 
Not only was Marie trying to get a fresh start, but there was no evidence a woman living and breathing for twenty-nine years even existed.
 
There were no pictures, no clutter, no decorations, no memories.
 
Everything was brand new.
 
Even the forks and knives in the kitchen were new.

Jack learned a lot about Marie as he toured her apartment.
 
She kept to herself, didn't care much of what others thought of her.
 
Her clothes were mostly casual.
 
There wasn't an expensive evening gown hanging in her closet, or glass slippers on the floor.
 
He laughed as he noticed the pile of clothes in the corner of the bedroom, growing like a fungus from the basket.

Marie certainly had interesting underwear.
 
He felt no shame as he rooted through her drawers.
 
White, pink, blue, Wonder Woman, all in various cuts.
 
Her sex life wasn't much to speak of, at least not in her own bedroom.
 
Perhaps she was a master of the one-nighter, and followed the simple rule of never bringing the partner home.

The kitchen was nothing to brag about.
 
Jack felt pity just looking at the pitiful excuse for the supposed center of the home.
 
He'd be lucky if he could make a bowl of cereal without breaking down in rage at the small space, much less cook a delicious meal.

Marie was a quiet, solitary woman.
 
Beautiful, strong, he was certain she received her share of attention as she managed her bar.
 
She liked to watch television, was a bit of a slob, although some of that could be attributed to depression.
 
She had a nice sense of style, and Jack wouldn't have minded seeing her in some of that skimpy underwear she kept.
 
Either she shopped light, or money was tight, judging from the bare fridge and cupboards.
 
A frozen steak and several packs of Ramen noodles were all he could find.

He could see where Erica and Marie would get along, strike a friendship.

He could not see Marie killing Erica, or ordering a hit on his life.

Some items on the dining room table caught his attention.
 
One was an old photo of a man and woman, smiling as they held each other.
 
They posed in front of an old house.
 
The picture was charred on one corner, the result of a fire.
 
From the age of the photo, any random mortal would have believed they were Marie's grandparents, and they would have been wrong.

The other item was a map of Sandy Cliffs.
 
There were handwritten notes in the margins.
 
Certain wooded areas surrounding the town were marked with dates, one even with a smiley face.
 
Jack recognized the enthusiasm that went into the map.
 
It reminded him of his dream journal.
 
The only difference was instead of charting dreams, Marie was charting the woods.

He had a good idea why.