The immortals key, p.9
The Immortal's Key, page 9
“No, nothing at all.”
He clearly knew that was false. Reg cursed herself for not being able to lie to him convincingly. She was so used to changing the truth to suit her needs. Most people couldn’t tell when she was lying. It was habitual, even though she knew that Damon would be able to recognize the truth when he heard it—or didn’t.
“Look,” she said, “this is none of your business. I don’t want to talk about the past or my family. You don’t know what it was like growing up the way I did. It’s something I’d rather forget. We can… talk about your childhood or dreams. I don’t like to.”
He stretched his arm out behind her. He brushed the back of her hair, setting her thin red braids swaying. “You don’t see a lot of redheads with cornrows.”
His touch was comfortable. She didn’t feel any anxiety over it. But on the other hand, she didn’t feel the magnetism toward him that she felt toward Corvin, either. Was she going to compare everyone to Corvin now? She hated her magical attraction to him. Why did she have to react to his charms? Even when he wasn’t there to magick her, she was still thinking about how amazing it felt to be with him. Would it never go away?
“Reg?”
She refocused on Damon. “Hmm?”
“Where did you get them done? It must have taken a long time.”
“Oh, the braids. Yeah. Hours. But then I don’t have to do much to take care of them.” She fingered them, feeling down the tight bumps of one braid. “I’ll have to get them redone before too long. I wonder if there is anyone here who does it.”
“Bound to be someone. If not, you could go with dreadlocks like the Witch Doctor.”
Reg shuddered. “I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
“You think the Witch Doctor was really the one who killed your mother? He wasn’t just manipulating you to think that?”
“Well, I still remember the same things, so… yeah. I do. I wish I could remember more… and I wish I couldn’t remember anything. It was better when I didn’t remember any of it.”
“Even though you didn’t remember, it probably still affected you. Seeing something like that can cause a lot of psychological damage.”
“It wasn’t an easy childhood. I’m glad to be an adult now, independent. I was never really comfortable living in a family. Never fit in.” She laughed. “How would I? Try fitting a traumatized kid with the ability to see ghosts into any home.”
Damon smiled. “You’re right. That would be pretty tough, unless everyone knew what they were getting.”
Reg nodded. She looked away from him, trying to think of the best way to get back off the topic and to focus the conversation on him instead.
“And what about Harrison,” Damon said slowly, “you don’t think he’s your father?”
“Harrison?” Reg shook her head; her forehead creased into worry lines that made it ache. “No, of course not. How could he be? These immortals, whatever they are, they wouldn’t have anything to do with humans.”
“I’m not so sure. There are plenty of stories about mortal women and immortal men.”
“Mythology. That stuff isn’t real.”
“That’s not what you said when we were fighting the Witch Doctor.”
“I was trying to distract him. That was our job, remember? I didn’t say I believed it. I was just trying to get a rise out of him.”
“I see.” His eyes were steady, burning into her. Seeing right through everything she tried to tell him. “So. Not Harrison. Then who?”
“No one. I told you. Some client or scummy boyfriend. Someone she’d never met before. A nobody. Street dirt.”
“If you didn’t get your powers through your mother’s family, then you must have gotten them through your father’s.”
“Or they were just spontaneous. Or acquired some other way. I don’t know. There are other ways, aren’t there?”
“Yes, but they are very rare.”
“So I’m a rare case.”
“You certainly are,” he agreed with a warm smile.
“Can we stop talking about my family? It’s… depressing.”
And she hoped that if they stopped talking about it, Norma Jean’s voice in her head would stop screeching. She was getting a nasty headache.
She took another sip of her drink.
Reg heard Starlight jump down off the bed or the windowsill and, in a moment, he walked into sight and approached Reg. He sniffed in Damon’s direction, watching the man suspiciously. Reg watched to see how Damon would react to Starlight. Corvin hated him. Harrison loved him. Reg thought that was a pretty good barometer of what kind of people they were. Damon smiled politely and reached his fingers down, holding them out for Starlight to smell. After ignoring his fingers for a few moments, Starlight decided to check them out. He sniffed Damon’s hand thoroughly, then rubbed against it. Damon obligingly gave his ears and chin a few scratches, then sat back up.
“We always had cats around growing up.”
“Were they familiars?”
“No, just house pets. They might have given my mother a little magical support; I don’t know. She never said so. And they weren’t treated like…” he searched for the words. “They weren’t treated as equals. They were pets.”
Reg nodded. Starlight wandered away to look at his dish. Altogether, the interaction between Damon and Starlight had been a non-event. So maybe that told her what she needed to know about him. He was just in the middle. Not great, not evil or dangerous, just a typical, everyday kind of guy. Other than the fact that he did have some magical powers. Reg was getting accustomed to the fact that everyone in Black Sands seemed to have something or other. She didn’t ask what they were or what they could do, just trying to stay open-minded towards new people until she learned their quirks.
“Did you ever have a familiar? I thought it was pretty common, but I guess maybe not. Corvin doesn’t like animals.”
“That’s probably because he is one. He doesn’t like the competition.” Damon snickered.
Reg wasn’t sure how she felt about Corvin, but she didn’t like making fun of him behind his back. She didn’t join in Damon’s laughter.
She had been moving the key from one hand to the other as they talked, absently fidgeting with it. She felt the now-familiar tug to unlock the treasure. She needed to know what it fit and she needed to open it. Was there an attic in the cottage? She didn’t think so, but there were lots of rooms and, she was sure, an attic too in Sarah’s house. Maybe Sarah wouldn’t mind Reg going through the house to see if she could find the lock that the key belonged to and reunite them.
She could see herself fitting the key into the lock. Feel it turning in her hand, clicking into place just as it should with a satisfying click, and then the tumbler turning and revealing to her the priceless treasure within…
“Are you doing that?” she demanded.
Damon raised his eyebrows. “Doing what?”
“I told you not to put thoughts into my head. Were you just doing that with the key?”
He shook his head, looking baffled. If he were lying, she couldn’t tell. It wasn’t very fair that he could lie to her, but she couldn’t lie to him. It should work both directions. “No. What do you mean? What about the key?”
“I just… never mind. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m tired. I shouldn’t be drinking.”
He took the glass out of her hand and downed what remained in one gulp, then put it down on the coffee table with a grin. “There. Problem solved.”
Reg stared at him in shock for a moment, then burst into laughter. He was right; one problem solved. And such an easy solution. She should put the key away too. If it were going to be that distracting for her, she should just let it go and forget about it for a while. She would search for the lock later. She didn’t want to lose it, fiddling with it absently. Who knew where she might put it down in a moment of distraction.
But the key was warm in her hand and she didn’t want to put it back in her pocket.
Chapter Thirteen
After Damon went home, Reg decided to focus on work. She got out her computer and worked on a marketing plan, wrote down the things she would need to do, who she should contact, what supplies she needed. But all the while, she was distracted by the key. The key would be better than a marketing plan. Because no matter how hard she worked on the marketing plan, there would always be more to do. She would never be able to forget about it and let the business run itself. That wasn’t the way that it worked. But if she used the key to unlock the treasure, then she wouldn’t have to worry about it again. She would be set for life. She would have all of the wealth she needed to live the way she wanted to.
That was way better than a marketing plan.
Reg decided to leave the computer alone and do something about finding the treasure. That would be much more productive.
She closed the lid of her laptop and went outside to the garden to look around. If the key had been found there, then why not the lock?
The garden was deserted. It was definitely looking better. She didn’t usually see Forst working in it, but he obviously had been. A large portion of the plants had been beaten flat before and were now standing up on their own. A few were staked and tied, but most of them seemed to have sprung back up on their own. Birds were singing in the trees. It was very peaceful and calm.
“It is a happier place,” Forst said.
Reg startled and looked around. He was standing just a few feet away from her, but she had failed to see him or to hear his approach.
“You scared me! Where did you come from?”
“Gnomen are like humans. The babies grow in the mother’s womb. But Gnomen always have two kinder. And very rare to have more than one set.”
“Uh… I didn’t mean where do gnome babies come from. I mean, where were you just now? I didn’t see you here and I didn’t hear you come.”
“I was in the soil.”
Reg considered this, but she wasn’t sure what he meant. Rather than look like a fool asking another fundamental question, she just shook it off. Forst was looking happy, his cheeks a glowing red. His overalls were grubby, but he looked like he’d been having a good time. Gardening certainly agreed with him.
“How is Fir? Is everything all right with him?”
Forst nodded vigorously. “He is still in his garden. No more black coats have taken him away. The living are protected, thanks to Reg Rawlins.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” She didn’t often do something just for others. She recognized that like Corvin, she wasn’t altruistic. When she did a thing, it was because she expected to get something out of it. She liked to help others, but that was secondary to her goals. She had been on the streets enough to know that she had to take care of herself first. No one else was going to do that. But helping Fir hadn’t been for her. It hadn’t been done with any expectation that it would bring her something.
It had made Forst happy, and it was Forst who had found the key, so in a way, it had ended up benefiting her anyway. Life was strange sometimes.
She had the key in her pocket and wrapped her hand around it as she contemplated Forst.
“I’m looking for the lock for the key you found. Do you know anything about… where it is or what kind of a lock it would be?”
He shook his head. “The garden is happier without it. See how well it grows now. Even the birds sing more sweet.”
“I thought that the lock might be somewhere close by.” Reg looked around for inspiration. “A garden shed or a storage trunk. What do you think?”
“It was a key,” Forst said with a shrug. “It opens something.”
“Yes. I know. That’s what I’m looking for. What do you think it unlocks?”
With his thumbs in his pockets and his belly sticking out, Forst shook his head. “Beware of what a dark key may unlock.”
“A dark key?”
He patted his pockets for his pipe and lit it before answering. The smoke wafted lazily through the air. Reg raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to answer the question. “The key made the garden dark. The living plants did not want to grow strong while it was here. It was a dark key.”
“But you don’t know what it opens. You haven’t seen one like that before, or seen anything around here that is locked that it might fit?”
He shook his head and puffed on the pipe. “I have seen no lock it might fit.”
“And you don’t know what kind of a lock it would be?”
He tapped on the side of the bowl. “It is an old key. It had been in the ground almost as long as you have been alive. Who would bury a key in this garden?”
“It’s not that old, if it’s only as old as me. There must be all kinds of houses around here that are a hundred years old or more. This looks much older than me.”
“The key is older than you.” His tone took on a note of impatience. “And it has been in the ground almost as long as you have been alive.”
“Oh. But before that, it was somewhere else. It was lost thirty years ago.”
“It was never lost.”
“But it was lost in the garden,” Reg pointed out. “Someone walking through here must have dropped it by accident and never found it.”
“No. It was not lost.”
Reg left Forst smoking, not sure what to make of this. She made a circuit around the garden, looking at the plants and flowers, but what she wanted to find was a treasure chest or storage shed she could fit the key into. She hadn’t explored the back yard before; she usually just walked from the front where she parked her car, along the sidewalk, and into her cottage. She hadn’t paid much attention to anything else in the yard.
There were trees, the garden, a birdbath with water in it, and a bench to sit on and take it all in.
But no storage shed. No trunk. Nothing that required a key.
When Reg awoke in the morning, she could feel Starlight sitting on the bed close to her leg. Normally, he was either looking out the window or poking at her face trying to wake her up. Maybe he was looking for some cuddle time. She reached out to pet him, but the form she touched was not a furry cat.
Her eyes flew open and she practically leapt out of her bed. It was not a cat sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, but a man. Before she had even had a chance to recognize him, her brain had already processed several possibilities. Corvin’s powers had become great enough for him to break any of the simple wards that Sarah had placed there against him. She had allowed Damon in, and that meant that he was allowed to come back, recognized as a guest rather than an intruder. Or it was a burglar or some other stranger there to harm her.
Then as she clambered out of bed, her eyes caught up with her brain and she realized that it was Harrison.
The long-limbed, smiling man looked at her curiously.
As usual, he was dressed in a style that just missed looking like a modern Floridian. He had on a long-sleeved white shirt with puffy sleeves, like he was a pirate or an English lord of some bygone era. This was paired with long, narrow-legged gray pants with pinstripes. He did seem to like his stripes. He had an enormous, dramatic mustache, and while she stared at him, he twirled the ends, making sure that they were properly styled.
“You are… what are you doing in my house?” she demanded. “You scared the heck out of me. You can’t just walk into other people’s houses like that.”
“I didn’t walk in.”
“Well, you can’t apparate or whatever it was you did. You are supposed to call or knock and get permission before going into someone’s house. And how is it you can just appear here? I thought Sarah put up wards against unwelcome intruders.”
He shrugged. He got up from the bed and bent at the window to pick up Starlight, who immediately started purring. The traitor. He should have been supporting Reg by telling Harrison that he couldn’t just appear in the cottage without warning.
Harrison walked with Starlight out toward the kitchen. Reg followed, not sure what else to do.
“I haven’t seen you for a while. What have you been doing?” she asked him.
He put Starlight down and poked at the coffee machine as if trying to prod an animal into action. Reg walked over, added grounds, and pushed the button to start it working. Harrison’s eyes lit up, and he smiled and nodded.
“Ingenious!”
“Yeah. Coffee machine. Pretty state-of-the-art. You haven’t answered my questions. What are you doing here? Where have you been? I thought we would see you after the fight with the Witch Doctor. I thought you would appear, tell us what a good job we did… I don’t know, knight us or something. It was really hard.”
“You did very well,” he confirmed with a nod. “Destine would have been difficult for anyone to fight, and for a group of mortals to be able to overcome him, that was impressive. You used your assets and accomplished something great.”
But he said it without inflection, as if it didn’t mean anything to him. What could mere mortals mean to someone like him? He must have had much more important things on his mind. Immortal things.
“What exactly is an immortal?” she asked, watching him as he watched the coffee machine pop and sputter. “Is it a god? An alien race? Where do you come from?”
Harrison glanced over at her. He looked down at Starlight as if he might have the answer to the question, then opened the fridge to find something to feed Starlight. As if Reg couldn’t feed her own cat. But she knew how much Harrison loved cats and couldn’t find fault with him for that.
“It is the best word we could find in your language,” he said, “but it is rather inadequate. There is so much more to my kind than simply living longer than human memory. But it is the best we can do.”
“Are you immortal? Un-killable?”
“Death is an interesting human concept.” He found a bowl of spicy chicken Reg had brought home from The Crystal Bowl a few days previous. He started to shred it for Starlight.
