Page 76 of His Talisman

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The wind tried to push me off the edge, in that playful way it has. Below, murky green waves splashed and foamed about the rocks and rubble from the tower. I thought it rougher than usual.

I walked back to look inside the hole and sat down to think some more. I didn’t want to prove that the doctor was killing his lost girls. I didn’t want to mess up what I had here with the two of them, even as I pined for something more than pottering about having fun, eating, and being their sex toy.

Their sex toy and actual friend? The banter on the beach, the casual chess, even the odd task he’d given me, those, and other days, other conversations, had added a depth to this. Least I thought they had. Yeah, I was hoping.

I couldn’t imagine living my whole life here however, as a recluse, growing old. What did he do with his ‘toys’ when they grew old?

I sat on the edge of the rubble, among the sprouting grass, and played with a stalk with a daisy at the end, twirling it this way and that way. The sun was kind today and hidden behind some gray clouds, with the land shrouded by the shadows of the clouds. Even the ocean had been a green-gray. The day’s blah colors suited me. I was pissed at having to choose to do this. If I fessed up to the doctor, Cassius might suffer, and if I turned a blind eye and did nothing? Worse, maybe?

I stood and rolled my shoulders, thought about the reef shoes. I had a pair of flippers and swimming goggles, too, had found them days ago, but I feared the flippers might get stuck on something, plus they weren’t meant to protect all of the foot.

“Just because I like the status quo,” I told myself. “Doesn’t mean I should ignore the creepy clues.”

Graveyards, lost girls, warnings, and vigilante justice, these were a few of my not-favorite things. There was the phone too. My lost phone. I would get that tonight, barring something terrible happening. It would take a zombie apocalypse to stop me. I needed more info.

I headed down the hill, half jogging, half picking my way carefully. Wouldn’t do to trip and brain myself before I tried to get through that tunnel, again. I stripped off near the hut and set off for the nearest spot to the tunnel dive, with everything I needed, including some courage I’d dredged up. The days off had softened me, that was it, that’s why all the ruminating and why the dread was preoccupying me.

“I only have two days, this time,” I muttered as I waded in wearing reef shoes, goggles, and swimmers. I prepared myself mentally then dived into the cool water, kicked my way to the bottom, found the tunnel, and plunged inside.

The dark sky and the lack of sunlight filtering through and reflecting into the tunnel did not help. I must have reached three yards in before panic seized me. I could hear the thud of my heart. I struggled to stay calm because letting panic take hold would kill me down here. I did a slow somersault and felt my way around—rock, rock, space; there was nothing in front of me. That had to be it.

I prayed the lighter water was the way out, and flutter kicked my way toward it.

I made it out, lunged upward, and broke through the surface choking for air, but I made it.

Unhappy, I stared up at the gray skies, with water making sloppy sloshes on nearby rocks. “Fuck. I need a light to go down there today.”

I did not have a light.

All morning and part of the afternoon, I practiced deep diving and holding my breath, counting the seconds in my head without any waterproof watch. I didn’t try the tunnel again. It was peaceful below. I saw fish but no sharks and was sure by now that no stonefish had dared to make its home here. I explored those undersea rocks, felt them, after being sure as I could be that they were safe. There was an extreme beauty in being able to stay alive beneath the sea. There was power, also. I was the alien below the surface, and my god I could almost wish I were a mermaid.

Going further inside the tunnel wasn’t to be. Not today, anyway.

The day remained overcast, and rain was spotting the windshield when I returned to the doctor’s mansion, swung in, and parked. I tapped the steering wheel. I couldn’t even check the weather for tomorrow without a true location.

At the dinner table, I asked Inigo about the weather forecast. He’d returned in the chopper when Cassius and the doctor had left and was on duty again here and at the library.

He only pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Shit. Really? Has the doctor told you not to say, in case I figure out the map location?”

“Maybe.” He looked amused and stayed in his at-ease position beside the entryway to the room.

“Your lips are zipped?”

“I can tell you many things but not that.”

“Damn.” I eyed the half-finished meal of crab, salad, fresh bread rolls, and that scrumptious butter. “I think I’ll leave this. Tell Margaux I apologize. It’s delish but I am tired.”

“Of course.”

I hadn’t lied, exactly, though my stomach was churning.

I lay in bed reading and counting down the hour until one AM, wishing I had an alarm I could use that wouldn’t wake up the household. At one, on the dot, I swung out of bed, wearing my handy silent, reef shoes again. I tottered down the stairs and outside, listening for the sounds of anyone else stirring. The doors were not locked, ever, here but I had to wonder where the guard with the taser hid. Hopefully, he only ventured out when some alarm warned him of intruders.

I was beginning to think this place was actually in some alternate dimension. I’d seen boats out to sea, cargo ships, yachts, but nothing ever came here, nobody rowed ashore or anchored to swim in the bay.

The best flashlight I’d found had been in the drawer beside the bed, and it was ancient and battered. The batteries needed CPR. The light was weak. Even so, it helped and was better than nothing on this moonless night.


Tags: Cari Silverwood Romance