The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (21 page)

Since then, she’d kept looking for him so much she’d ended up changing coffee shops. Had he been her father? If he was, why was he just watching her that one time? And why didn’t he try to talk to her? Despite their brief interaction, one thing she knew for certain. He didn’t look like any second-rate actor. He looked like a god.

At least, her “special” ability made her good at what she did. Gave her empathic impressions of what a person was feeling. For a woman who solicited funds from donors with more money than sense sometimes, having an extra idea about what they needed to hear to part with their money gave her an edge. An edge she used, but wished she didn’t have to. While her mother might want her to keep it a secret, she had no problems compelling Catherine to use it on her behalf.

After a final look at Peter, Catherine went back to the desk and sat in the heavily padded seat. With one finger, she opened her diary to the evening’s appointments. Speaking of soliciting funds, she was to attend a soiree tomorrow night at the Hollywood Heritage Museum. Lillian wanted to get the museum director to contribute to her newest cause—that of funding an archeology team to explore Egypt’s Valley of the Kings.

What her mother didn’t tell her, but she knew anyway, was that one of the curators in the Cairo museum claimed to have knowledge of some valuable treasure in the Valley and Lillian hoped to get a share. Everything her mother did had some kind of angle, some kind of motivation that revolved around herself.

“Hello, darling, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Catherine gasped in surprise and her body jerked, banging the chair against the desk. Her hand pressed against her heart. “Mother, I didn’t know you were home.”

Lillian sauntered into the room, the white Dior pantsuit hugging her curves. A gold, ribbed torque of Achaemenid-era Persian artwork, with lion heads at the ends facing each other, encircled her neck. For a moment, Catherine thought she saw a flash of red in her mother’s usually emerald eyes as she neared.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Lillian stopped in front of the desk and smiled down at Catherine. “I arrived while you were gone.”

“Where is Angella?”

Lillian flipped her hand in a disinterested gesture. “Oh, she’s around. Somewhere.” Her nose wrinkled. “Probably off taking a break.”

Catherine eyed her mother in confusion. Her mother not knowing where her staff was? Unheard of. And to be completely unconcerned about that fact? Absolutely impossible.

“Mother, are you okay?”

“Why yes, darling. Why ever would you think otherwise?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed and this time Catherine was sure she saw a flash of red.

“I’m sorry, it’s probably just me.” Without hurrying, Catherine pushed her diary aside and rolled the chair away from the desk so she could stand. “How was your trip?”

“Oh, it was very productive.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Lillian grinned, her lips pulling back from feral-looking teeth. The expression brought to Catherine’s mind the story of “Little Red Riding Hood”.

Grandma, what big teeth you have.

All the better to eat you with, my dear.

“Oh yes, I did.” As her mother spoke, she moved around the desk, coming toward Catherine.

Her mind whirled. The woman approaching her was not her mother. Was not Lillian DeMartinez. Catherine didn’t know how or why, but she knew within her soul that something…else…occupied her mother’s body. This, then, must be the reason why her senses had kicked off when Catherine had entered the home. Her gift working to warn her.

With the pretense of grabbing for her diary, she knocked it off the side, away from Lillian. Catherine scooted around the desk, pretending to pick up the book. Instead, she darted for the fireplace and yanked a shovel from the tool stand. She faced Lillian.

The thing laughed with Lillian’s mouth. “Well, well, you are a quick one, aren’t you? Figured things out pretty fast for a human.” The purring voice coming out of that mouth was most definitely not her mother’s. “Come now, darling. You and I need to have a little chat. You have something I need.”

Catherine lifted her chin and held out the shovel in front of her. “Where is my mother?”

A mocking smiled curved on the red-lipsticked lips. “What do you care? You don’t love her anyway.”

Catherine opened her mouth then shut it.
You know that’s true, Catherine,
a voice whispered insidiously in her mind.
You’ve never loved your mother. You hate her. Blame her for your father’s leaving. For not being around when you were born. For not being around now.

The shovel almost slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
Oh my God
, was this true? Did she really hate her mother? She looked up at the demon—how could it be anything else but a demon?—and in the red-tinged eyes, she saw satisfaction. Catherine pulled her lips into a thin line.

Her spine stiffened. “You’re very clever too, demon. Planting thoughts in my mind. Looking like my mother. You are wrong. I don’t hate my mother. Who are you?”

Terror for her mother raced through her mind, leaving behind trembling knees. If the demon looked like her mother, wore her mother’s face and body, what had happened to Lillian?

Her mother’s form rippled, her flesh crawling as if millions of ants moved under the skin, which broke, splitting in places all over her body. Pieces of her mother separated and fell to the ground, littering the carpet before dissipating.

Catherine muffled a gasp, not wanting to reveal any weakness. A part of her gibbered in horror while the pragmatic part—honed by her mother’s teachings—searched for a way to find out what she needed to know.

The demon that stepped away from the pile of flesh was a stunning blonde with a curvy, full-figured body, startling blue eyes and full lips tinted a natural, not enhanced, deep pink.

“Very dramatic, Jahi. But then, you always did like to play with your food.”

Catherine whirled to face the open door. Standing under the archway was a handsome man she’d seen before. Mr. Davar. The man her mother had introduced her to, the one who’d sent Lillian on her trip to find a priceless object.

A smile played on his lips. “Hello, pet. I hear you have some information we need.” Like before, his words curled around her with malicious intent.

This was the second time someone had inferred she knew something. Which she most certainly did not. What could she possibly know that would interest a demon? “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Mr. Davar took his place on the other side of the beautiful woman, Jahi. They had her boxed in and she got the feeling the shovel was not going to be helpful. That didn’t stop her from gripping it tightly.

“We’ve been told you know where to find my treasure, and, more importantly, how to use it,” Mr. Davar said.

Despite her concern with the situation and fear for her mother—who was likely dead—Catherine’s curiosity was piqued. Maybe finding out what they wanted would help her figure a way out of the situation. And what happened to Lillian. “My mother didn’t tell me anything.”

“Ah,” he crooned, “your mother told us everything we needed to know. About you. About the item. And how you are going to help me get the skull.”

“The skull? I don’t know anything about a skull.”

Mr. Davar pivoted and went to the sofa. He sat down and settled into the cushions, one arm draped across the back. He waved a hand at her. “Come. Join me. I’ll tell you a little story.”

Fat chance. As if she’d sit beside him. Or go anywhere near Jahi. The hungry look in the demon’s eyes left Catherine with a knotted stomach. Her thoughts must have shown in her face.

Mr. Davar jerked his head at Jahi. “Step back, my love. You are making my little pet nervous.”

The blonde frowned but tossed her head and moved around, putting the desk between them.

“Now,” Mr. Davar said, “why don’t you come over here so we can talk?”

Keeping a wary eye on Jahi, Catherine sidled across the floor and went to stand near the chair sitting opposite the sofa. Close enough she could hear him clearly, but far enough she felt certain she could flee should he try anything. But she didn’t drop the shovel. Flimsy protection, yes, but there was comfort in having the small tool.

“I want to know about my mother,” she said.

Mr. Davar crossed his legs and waved a hand. “I’ll tell you all about your mother after I tell you my story.”

She stared at him a moment, then slowly lowered herself into the seat.

“Good.” A wide smile stretched across his face, much like she was a child and he the proud parent. Icy fingers trailed up her spine.

“Once upon a time,” he began then stopped. “Such a ridiculous way to start a story, but I suppose it makes sense in this case. So, once upon a time, ancient humans worshipped their gods and created these wondrous crystal skulls to provide homes for their gods. What they didn’t realize is the gods they worshipped were actually imprisoned demons. Fallen angels, in fact.

“The demons manipulated the magic these early humans possessed to cause great strife and thousands of deaths before the skulls were lost.” A huge smile split his face. “Ah, those were the days, indeed. Whole civilizations destroyed. A very enjoyable time, wasn’t it, my dear?” He directed his question to Jahi.

In response, the female demon’s eyes seemed to get brighter. And hungrier.

Catherine tried to conceal a shudder, which she suspected she failed at when both Davar and Jahi directed their heated gazes on her.

“What does this have to do with me? And my mother?”

“Ah, the impatience of youth.” Davar waved his hand. “I’m getting to that.” He shifted, recrossing his legs in the other direction. “The demons in the skull had made a mistake when they killed off their priests and slaves. Many of the skulls went dormant while their demons slept and soon were lost to humans. Occasionally, some powerless ones were dug up, which accounted for the little tricks humans touted as evidence of some kind of mystical or alien influence. However, for the most part, they were little more than toys. Except one.”

He paused as the smile slipped from his narrow face. The blue of his eyes darkened, still bright but now shadowed with cruel intent. From the corner of her eye, Catherine caught a furtive movement as Jahi sidled nearer. As she kept her gaze partially on Davar, she also looked at Jahi and lifted the little shovel. “Don’t move, bitch.”

Guess there must have been something in her voice because Jahi stopped and her eyes narrowed. Under the lowered lids, scarlet peeped forth, a flash of blood red.

“Leave her alone, Jahi. Let me finish my story. It has quite a fascinating ending.”

When Catherine was sure Jahi would listen to Davar, and with the shovel still in her hand, Catherine turned back to Davar. “Finish, will you? It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”

As the last word left her tongue, she slammed her lips shut. Where had that come from? She was not the type to mouth off to anyone, much less a demon. Of course, she’d never had the opportunity to with a demon but, still, it was highly unlike her. It was almost as if she’d been possessed by a sharp-tongued chick from an action-adventure movie.

If anything, Davar’s gaze got darker—then, to her surprise, he broke out in a laugh. Or something resembling a laugh, but more like a guttural, rasping sound. “Yes, my pet. After all, the end is the most important part. As to what comes next… Very well. As I said, the skulls had erred and many dwindled away until they had less than a quarter of their original glory. But one demon was much smarter, and even though her civilization was lost too, she managed to attach herself to a priest—the last of his kind.

“For years, this demon and her priest waited. But humans are ever fragile and soon the priest died and the demon, for all her foresight, found herself lost to the sands of time. Until 1926 when a young human female found the skull and brought it home with her. Yet this human did not have the power the demon needed to rise again, and so the demon in the skull languished for many years, passing from mortal hand to mortal hand—none with the gifts to use the skull and the demon’s powers.

“This is where you come in, pet.”

Catherine couldn’t help herself and blurted, “The crystal skulls are myths and legends. Fabrications of real-life ceremonial crystals. The Mitchell-Hedges skull is certainly more interesting but it is still just as fake as the rest.”

Davar let out a bark of laughter. “Ah, my pet, you do know of the stories.”

She lifted her chin. “I know they are just that—stories.”

“That is where you are wrong. The Mitchell-Hedges skull is exactly the one you are going to help me get, and when we do, you will help me use it to destroy my enemies.”

Catherine stared at him for a minute, not sure if she should laugh, cry or scream. This demon actually believed the skull possessed the power to will others to die. Oh yes, she knew the stories. She’d always been fascinated by the tales surrounding the skulls, especially the Mitchell-Hedges, but that didn’t mean she believed them.

At least, not in the way others did. Like her ability, there were just things that couldn’t be explained. Or shown. Her beliefs only went so far.