A Shifter's Curse, Raven Steele [the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT] 📗

I made my way back to the house, disappointment choking off my breath. A few seconds later, I heard the familiar roar of Luke’s bike as he drove away. I shuffled my way through the leaves, feeling a little guilty. Maybe I should share what I found with Luke. It did seem pretty important to him.

But then I remembered his loyalty to the pack. I remembered how he had looked me in my eyes and told me that he would stop me if I tried to kill Dominic. He was also secretly meeting with Samira. Luke had too many secrets for me to be able to trust him. I yawned, deciding I’d had enough for today. I still had to get rid of Silas’ disgusting crap, but I didn’t think I’d be able to stay awake a minute longer.

I crashed on top of my bed, fully clothed. Just a short nap.

Nightmares invaded my sleep, slithering and twisting across my mind. I sat on a skiff, floating across a calm lake, my powerful arms rowing two oars that dipped deep into the silvery water. Objects bobbed around me. At first, they were fish, swollen and bloated, their bellies up. The cool air turned putrid, and I paddled faster to escape the stench. Dead fish transformed into human body parts. A gnarled hand, a torn ear, severed legs. They floated past me, growing in numbers. Heads and faces came next. Fat tongues squeezed past gray, chapped lips. Milky white eyes stared at me accusingly through sunken sockets.

I began to recognize the faces. My father. My mother. Siblings. Cousins. All watching me in passing.

My paddle jerked to a stop deep within the water, as if something had latched onto it. I was stuck in a sea of the dead. Bodies floated as far as the eye could see. The water slowly turned a dark crimson, the same color as the Abydos blood.

The mouth on a face nearest me twitched as if it were alive. I gripped the edge of the boat, my knuckles bone white, to lean closer to the face. Its eyes were sewn shut, but its mouth was moving. Twitching like it wanted to speak, its bottom jaw dropped suddenly, and a great cry tore through its bodiless head, shouting my name.

I sat up straight, panting hard and kicking at my sweat-soaked sheets that threatened to suck me under. Stars crowded my vision, and I clawed at my chest as if there was something physically stopping the air from flowing into my lungs.

Relax. Calm down. You’re safe.

I thought the words over and over until oxygen filled my lungs again.

The dream had been so vivid. So real. Those images would haunt me for years.

After I showered, I watched a little television while I waited for Ryder to wake up, but as the minutes passed by, I grew restless.

I thought about the stuff in the duffel bag in disgust and goosebumps erupted on my arms. I didn’t want to deal with that, not after that dream, so I went up to the attic instead and grabbed the box.

Back in my room, I carefully removed the lid as if its contents might jump out and strike me. Everything inside was neatly organized. There was a brown shoebox pressed against the sides, with a drawing of a car and two stick figures scribbled on its top. There was also a thick stack of envelopes held together by a rubber band and a set of blocks stacked evenly within a clear, plastic square. At the very bottom were some thick manila folders. Someone had taken great care of these belongings.

I removed the shoebox and opened it. I was surprised to find piles and piles of photographs. I grabbed them, curious, and flipped through them. Most were of the same child at various ages. Thick, curly blond hair. Light blue eyes that twinkled when he smiled.

I turned one over. In neat writing, it said: Silas. Age eight. I turned over several more. They were all labeled. Most were of Silas, but there were some with his parents. I didn’t see any pictures of him with siblings. Maybe he was an only child.

At the bottom of the stacks, I found a few photos with him and another child. I turned one over and nearly dropped it when I read Dominic’s name. He was two years younger than Silas in the picture. They’d known each other that long? Were they related?

I searched the rest of the shoebox but found nothing to answer my question. No family reunions, no pictures with anyone else in them.

However, I did notice a pattern. As Silas grew, the twinkle in his eye, the dimpled smile, was replaced by a scowl and a cold expression. Something had happened to him along the way. I wondered with bitterness if anyone had killed off his family. Asshole.

I put away the shoebox and turned my attention to the letters. The rubber band encasing them looked new, but the letters looked old. I pulled one out carefully. The folded lines were deep, as if it had been folded and unfolded several times. It was a woman’s handwriting. She talked about college, mostly about her classes and professors. Nothing interesting.

Based on the lack of personal items in Silas’ apartment, I had thought him a cold, non-sentimental man, but that wasn’t the case at all.

He just preferred to keep his memories, both good and bad, sealed up in a box, away from prying eyes who might try to discover his strengths and weaknesses. Which was exactly what I had been doing when I searched his room.

“What are you doing?”

I dropped the letters as if I was doing something wrong and looked up. I sighed in relief when I saw Ryder standing in the doorway.

I spread my hand, pointing to the boxes. “This is from Silas’ hidden room. There are photographs of him as a child with his parents. And some with Dominic. Did you know they knew each other as children?”

He shook his head and joined me on the bed. “I didn’t.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry I slept so long. I don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

“You needed it.”

“How did everything go with Jackson this afternoon?”

“I’m in one piece.”

“I guess that means he trusts you.”

“I guess so,” I said, not wanting to think about it because, one day, I might have to break that trust.

“What do you have planned today?” I asked, anxious to change the subject.

“I’m supposed to meet up with Lola in an hour to make sure she’s okay. I don’t think Silas will accuse her of anything, but I want to make sure.”

I glanced at the clock and realized it was already late afternoon. “Shit! It’s later than I thought.”

I wanted to get rid of Hannibal Lecter’s trophies before Lynx came home. I can’t image the horror she’d go through if she saw those jars.

Ryder’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at a text message. “Jerry’s out front to give me a ride. I got to go, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

“I’ll see you out.”

I waited until Jerry drove off before I jogged out back, hoping no animals had found the jars. I needed to get rid of this crap before I had to go into work. The bag looked undisturbed. I slowly unzipped it.

I glanced inside, and my stomach churned. I shut it, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do with this stuff. I considered burying it, but then animals would probably find them. Or, someone from the pack. I carefully dragged the bag back to the garage, happy I was alone.

I sat on the ground and looked around, trying to find inspiration around me. Today was trash day, and everyone had their cans out, but the trash guys hadn’t come yet. They must be late for some reason.

I stood up, brushing off my jeans. I couldn’t think of a better option than dumping them into my neighbor’s trash. It was all I could think of. Dominic’s so paranoid, anyone from the pack could show up at any time and check my