The Keepers: Christmas in Salem: Do You Fear What I Fear?The Fright Before ChristmasUnholy NightStalking in a Winter Wonderland (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 7

  After standing and finding solid purchase on the sidewalk again, Rebekah realized she had no tissue and wondered if sticking her wounded finger in the snow that bordered the sidewalk might staunch the bleeding. She dismissed the thought. Not only did the snow look dirty, she really didn’t have the time to stop and pamper an injury that appeared no more severe than an oversize paper cut. She had to be at the gazebo by three, and it was already thirteen minutes till. Fortunately, she was only a couple minutes away.

  Rebekah shook the dripping blood from her finger and took off, jogging. A crosswind brushed against her face, making her shiver. She hated the cold.

  When Rebekah finally reached the steps of the gazebo, she took them in twos. She’d spotted only a couple of people in the park so far, and both appeared to be passing through on their way to somewhere else. With any luck the park could very well be empty by the time the elders arrived.

  No sooner was she inside than she saw Faylin, her fire elemental elder, leaning against the south end of the railing. So much for luck.

  “You’re late,” Faylin said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Uh...and you became my Keeper, when?” Rebekah glanced at her watch. Nine minutes to three. “That’s a scratch on my being late. You’re early.”

  Faylin tsked. “Well...whatever.”

  From a distance Rebekah heard a man whistle in the dark. The kind of whistle some men gave when they saw a beautiful woman. She had little doubt it was meant for Faylin. The lamps attached to the dome of the gazebo shed a soft white light across the pavilion, making it easy for anyone looking in this direction to see her.

  Then again, in human form, Faylin was hard to miss in any lighting. The elder stood about five foot ten and looked to be in her late twenties. She had eyes the color of swirled cinnamon and a shock of thick auburn hair beneath a blue aviator’s hat, complete with earflaps. She wore a blue, skin-tight ski suit over a body most women would have killed for.

  “You think you could have worn something a little more...subtle?” Rebekah asked.

  “What?” Faylin looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  In that moment a man’s face suddenly appeared behind the railing on the west side of the gazebo. It was Walter, her water elemental elder. Before Rebekah could advise him otherwise, he had climbed over the railing to get into the gazebo instead of taking the stairs. He stood a couple of inches shorter than Faylin, and had a slender build, shoulder-length hair the color of bleached sand and green eyes that looked too large for his narrow, pale face.

  As soon as Walter landed inside the gazebo, he gasped like a little girl who’d happened upon a spider. The sound echoed throughout the Common.

  “What happened to you?” he asked Rebekah, putting a hand to his chest. “Oh...oh...” He pointed to her feet. “You’re... It’s... Is that...?” He backed up against the railing.

  Puzzled, Rebekah looked down to where he had pointed. She saw a few drops of blood on the floor near her right foot. Her finger had started to bleed again.

  She heard a loud retching sound and glanced up in time to see Walter puking over the side of the railing.

  “Oh, for the love of light!” Faylin said in disgust. “It’s only a little blood.”

  Somewhere in the distance, far enough away so the darkness kept him hidden, Rebekah heard someone say, “Friggin gross!” The voice sounded male and young—early to mid-twenties.

  “That really was a wussy move, Walter,” Faylin said. “Totally embarrassing.”

  Walter pulled himself upright and patted his lips with the back of a hand. “Leave me alone. It’s not like I planned it. It just sort of happened.” He looked over at Rebekah. “Are you okay? Do we need to find somebody to look at your finger? You know...in case you need stitches or something? I’m worried. It... I mean, that’s real blood.”

  “I’m fine,” Rebekah assured him. “Really. The cut’s small and wasn’t even bleeding a minute ago. I probably caught it on the railing while climbing the stairs.”

  “Take this, then,” Walter said, and removed the beige cashmere scarf he had wrapped around his neck. He handed it to her. “Wrap it around the wound. It’ll stop the bleeding for sure.”

  “There’s no need. Look, the bleeding’s stopped again.” Rebekah had never seen the water elder react to the sight of blood that way. It puzzled her, but there were bigger things for her to worry about right now. “Really, it’s no big deal. No blood, no worries. Okay?”

  Walter gave her a reluctant nod.

  “That’s a relief,” Faylin said. “I have to admit I was starting to get a little worried about you myself.”

  Rebekah gave Faylin, who was better known for surliness than empathy, a questioning look. “You, worried?”

  “Of course. Blood’s a tough stain to get out, you know. Had it dripped on that beautiful white coat of yours, it would’ve totally ruined it.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Walter said. “The woman nearly cuts off her finger and all you’re concerned about are stains on her coat?”

  Faylin glared at him. “And that’s your business because...?”

  He tsked. “You’re so shallow.”

  “Better shallow than a wuss,” Faylin shot back. “And quit blowing things out of proportion. The woman simply nicked her finger, Walter. Nicked, as in tiny cut. Nowhere near cutting it off.”

  “You think you know everything about everything.”

  “Okay, both of you, stop right now,” Rebekah demanded. “You’re acting like five-year-olds.”

  Faylin huffed, then glanced about as though seeing the inside of the gazebo for the first time. “Well...call me pretentious.”

  Walter did a double take in her direction.

  “Not me, you waterlogged puke-ninny. The gazebo. It’s architectural overkill for a town this size, if you ask me.”

  “No one did,” Walter said, then scowled. “I don’t think it’s overkill at all. It’s beautiful. Very grand and elegant.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Faylin let out an exasperated sigh and turned to Rebekah. “Let’s get on with this gig already. I need to get out of this body. It itches, and putting clothes all over it makes the itching worse. I have important things to tend to, you know. Besides, I don’t like being this close to so many humans. They smell funny. And why aren’t the others here yet? Those three yahoos are late.”

  “Do you ever stop complaining?” Rebekah asked. “Like, ever?”

  “No,” Walter said. “She doesn’t.”

  “Shut up, you old wart-nosed water lily,” Faylin said. “What do you—” She suddenly cocked her head, then aimed her chin to the east. “Guess airhead Ariel finally decided to join us.”

  Rebekah squinted into the darkness and spotted movement.

  “Where?” Walter asked. “It’s so dark. How can you see anything out there?”

  Faylin rolled her eyes, then did a quick flip of her right wrist. A small ball of fire suddenly appeared in the palm of her hand. “Uh, hello, water brain, I’m fire. Fire means light...remember?”

  When Ariel came into view, Rebekah was relieved to see that she had chosen a relatively “normal” human body for the meeting. The air elder stood at average height, had a slender build and long, platinum-blond hair. She wore a pastel yellow coat over a white dress and white flats. Relatively subtle in appearance—except for one thing. Instead of walking, Ariel literally floated toward them, three inches off the ground.

  “Whoa... What the...?” From the sound of it, Rebekah figured the young man who’d verbalized his disgust with Walter’s puking earlier had just spotted Ariel floating their way.

  Shouting out to Ariel would only have drawn more attention to her, so Rebekah quickly sent her air elder a telepathic message. Use your feet, Ariel, walk! The floating’s drawing too much attention.

  Ariel immediately complied.

  “And here comes boulder butt,” Faylin said, pointing to the north.

  In
that moment Rebekah felt the gazebo floor vibrate ever so slightly beneath her feet. Definitely Eric. He soon came into view, all six foot five of him. He looked like a bodybuilder, with massive shoulders, shoulder-length brown hair, deep-set brown eyes and a serious expression, which he maintained every time he had to make an appearance in human form.

  Eric climbed the steps of the gazebo only a second or two behind Ariel. At least they had the good sense to use the steps instead of jumping over the railing the way Walter had, or simply appearing like Faylin. Still, steps or not, it was difficult, if not impossible, for the lot of them not to draw attention.

  “What are y’all doing here?” Eric asked Faylin and Walter when he arrived.

  It always amused Rebekah to hear the voice Eric chose to go along with his human physique—baritone, with a Southern drawl.

  “That’s a stupid question,” Faylin said. “Why do you think we’re here, pebble brain? Same reason you are—because Rebekah wanted us here. Only we were on time.”

  “I’m not late!” Eric turned to Rebekah, his brow furrowing deeply. “Am I?”

  His expression read of near panic. Eric had such an exacting, plodding personality that, for him, being late meant he’d committed an unconscionable and unforgivable act.

  “Of course not. When are you ever?” Rebekah tapped the face of her watch to reassure him. “You’re right on time.”

  Eric looked at Faylin. “Then you got here early.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Why?”

  Faylin cocked her head, a sly grin spreading over her face. “Because.”

  Knowing that a nonanswer like because would drive Eric crazy and that Faylin had probably used it for just that reason, Rebekah stepped between them, using herself as a pattern interrupt before things escalated out of control.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry about floating earlier,” Ariel said. Her voice had a breathy, high-pitched quality that Rebekah found annoying. “I forget about using feet. You know, humans have it tough. It’s not easy getting around on those things.”

  “Look, can we cut the chitchat and get down to business?” Eric asked. “We’re wasting time.”

  “Where’s Quentin?” Ariel asked, scanning the gazebo. “We can’t get to business without Quentin.”

  “He’s not here yet,” Walter said.

  Unable to take it any longer, Rebekah asked, “Ariel, why on earth did you choose that voice? It’s annoying. You sound like Marilyn Monroe on helium.”

  Ariel blinked rapidly, appearing stupefied. “Who’s Marilyn Monroe?”

  “An actress from a long time ago. Doesn’t matter. Just change the voice, okay?”

  “Sure, but if I change the voice, I have to change the body, and that’s going to take a while. It’s a lot of hard work, putting all these human parts together. You’ve gotta make sure—”

  Rebekah held up a hand. “Never mind. Keep the voice. Just try not to use it too much, please.”

  Eric huffed. “We’re wastin’ time.”

  “Yeah, I’m ready to skate,” Faylin said.

  “We’re supposed to be a team, and Quentin’s part of it,” Ariel said. “We have to wait for him.”

  Eric arched a brow. “Getting kinda prissy, ain’t ya? Whether we wait for him or not is Rebekah’s call.”

  “Well...well...of course!” Ariel said, looking utterly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to step out of bounds or anything. I was just saying...”

  Rebekah heard two people talking in the distance, in the dark. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but would have bet her left arm that the five of them were the topic of conversation. They probably made quite the spectacle, illuminated in the middle of the gazebo by the Christmas lights the town had hung. She had to do something before they drew even more attention and half the town of Salem showed up at the gazebo to gawk at the “weirdos.”

  Rebekah turned to Faylin. “There’re two guys talking to each other somewhere nearby. Can you see them?”

  “Sure. Punky types. Kinda young. They’ve been watching since I got here.”

  “Let me know the second they both turn away from us, okay?”

  “No problem,” Faylin said. “You’re going to do the curtain thing, aren’t you?”

  Walter shuffled around impatiently. “I’m bored. Do I have to keep standing? My feet hurt. Are there chairs around here? Can I—”

  “Quiet for a moment, all of you.” Rebekah held up her right hand, palm out. She was relieved to see the cut was no longer bleeding. At least Walter wouldn’t be puking over the railing again—she hoped. She closed her eyes, certain that her stance looked strange to whoever watched in the dark. But she had no other choice. Once Faylin gave her the signal that the young men had turned away, she would have only a few seconds to produce the illusion veil.

  “Okay... Now,” Faylin said.

  At her word, Rebekah quickly walked the perimeter of the gazebo floor, all the while creating the illusion veil using her mind’s eye. The veil would allow anyone who happened by to see only what Rebekah allowed them to see. In this case, an empty gazebo. The only problem was that whoever had been watching them was in for a shock. Once the veil was in place, it would appear that the five of them had simply vanished.

  No sooner did that thought cross Rebekah’s mind than she heard, “What the hell?”

  She opened her eyes and grinned. “I guess the veil worked.”

  “No doubt,” Faylin said. “The guys out there are just a couple of punks anyway. Want me to cook ’em?”

  “No!”

  “But they’re all up in our business.”

  “Not anymore,” Rebekah said. “The veil’s up, so their show’s over.” Only another elemental or a Keeper had the ability to see through the veil, so for now, at least, they were safe from prying eyes.

  Rebekah glanced at her watch again. Six minutes after three. It wasn’t like Quentin to be late. The quintessence elemental elder always made a point of being on time. His tardiness worried her.

  “You know,” Faylin said, leaning against the railing, “humans say that a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. Maybe that’s not true when it comes to elementals.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rebekah asked.

  “Quentin,” Faylin said. “Think about it. Who better to produce this kind of darkness than an elemental who can easily position himself between the sun and the earth?”

  “Hmm, I never considered that,” Walter said.

  “You really think it could be Quentin?” Ariel asked.

  “That’s stupid,” Eric said. His loud baritone made Rebekah glad that the illusion veil came with a sound barrier. “Quentin wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, if the sun was blocked from up there, it would affect the whole earth, not just Salem.”

  Faylin did an eye roll. “Okay, so maybe he just stuck a foot between the sun and Salem, then.”

  “Now, that’s just ridiculous,” Walter said. “First of all, Quentin doesn’t even have feet.”

  “All of you, give it a rest!” Rebekah demanded. She closed her eyes again and tried to tune in to Quentin telepathically.

  Quentin, where are you? Everyone’s at the gazebo waiting for you.

  No response.

  “Hey, y’all, we’ve got company,” Eric said.

  “Is it Quentin?” Ariel asked.

  Rebekah peered into the darkness and saw two men headed for the gazebo. Intuitively she knew one of them was the guy they’d heard earlier. The one who’d seen Walter puke over the railing, Ariel floating instead of walking and heaven only knew what else. It only made sense that they’d come to investigate. After all, moments earlier five “people” had been in the gazebo. Now...no one.

  “They sure are nosy,” Faylin said, obviously seeing and identifying the same men. “Come on. Let me cook ’em—just a little.”

  “No,” Rebekah said firmly.

  “What’s wrong with you, always wanting to cook people?” Walter asked Fa
ylin. “Do you always have to be so dramatic? I mean, really, if—”

  “Shut up, drippy dick. I’ll do what—”

  “Stop.” Rebekah quickly held out her left hand, palm up, and drew an imaginary line across it with her right index finger. A repellent field. She didn’t know why she hadn’t put one around the perimeter when she’d set up the illusion veil. The repellent field acted more like an alarm system than a physical barrier. If a human even thought about coming toward the gazebo, the repellent field would trigger their internal alarm, making them think twice, insisting it would be better if they stayed away—far away.

  Seconds later, she noticed two tall, lanky shapes scurrying away.

  “Ooh,” Faylin said, sounding more amused than surprised.

  “What?” Rebekah asked.

  “Um... Someone else is coming.”

  “Who? Quentin?” Rebekah squinted into the darkness and saw movement.

  “Is that Quentin?” Walter asked.

  “Uh...no...” Faylin’s eyes had turned a bright sienna—a sure sign of mischief on the way.

  “Then who?” Rebekah squinted harder. The person heading toward them was definitely male. The few times she’d seen Quentin in human form he’d always chosen something delicate, a small-boned physique that reminded her of a Michelangelo or a da Vinci painting. There didn’t appear to be anything delicate about this man.

  Suddenly recognition sent Rebekah’s heart racing into her throat. “No... No way... It can’t be.”

  The man drew closer, removing any doubts. The tall, muscular body, collar-length black hair, olive complexion; his walk confident, purposeful; jeans, a black pullover and a black leather jacket. The sight sent a chill through Rebekah that felt colder than any winter wind Salem had to offer.

  Walter gasped. “Is...is that Vaughn Griffith?”

  Rebekah didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  “Oh, my!” Ariel said, her voice breathier than ever.

  As the man came into full view, Rebekah saw an easy smile spread across his face, which made the cold drilling into her bones immediately vanish. In its place rolled a wave of white-hot anger.