Tomb's Tale Read online

  She laughed a humorless laugh. “Everywhere.” She reached back. “But mainly this area.”

  “Can you rotate side to side? Keeping your hips facing forward?”

  She did—no pain.

  “Any tingling, hot sensation?”

  “No.”

  “Lean forward.”

  She did and winced.

  He nodded. “You pulled, or possibly tore your extensor muscle. Ice your back every two to three hours for a few days, then start heat treatment. Take ibuprofen for swelling, and if it’s not better in four or five days, go to the chiropractor. Dr. McNeal on the square is the best around.”

  “Thanks.” She realized she was still holding onto his arm. She dropped her hand and squared her shoulders. “I’ll be alright.”

  He seemed reluctant to let her go and before she could convince him that she didn’t need any help whatsoever, he’d already motioned the medic over to take a look at her.

  Just then, from a distance, “Chief Cage, can we see you for a moment?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Roxy as the medic walked up. “Who’s my main contact here?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know when you can go back into the house.” He pulled a small spiral notebook from his pocket and jotted down her number.

  As the medic began asking her questions, Weston locked eyes with her, lingering a moment before turning and jogging down the hill.

  CHAPTER 3

  After convincing everyone to go home and get some rest—and then waiting until they actually did—Roxy shivered as she walked across the driveway. The mild spring-like day had faded into a cool, crisp evening which would be the norm over the next few weeks until the season officially changed. Although, Devil's Den never seemed to stick to a traditional weather schedule.

  Nestled deep in the mountains, the small town was made up of steep cliffs, deep valleys, and soaring peaks. On one side of a mountain, the bright sunshine would warm the vast forest below, and the other side would be shaded, breezy, and cool. Unpredictable weather was part of living in the Great Shadow Mountains.

  Unpredictable weather and evil spirits.

  She slid into her car, snagging her new Louis Vuitton purse on the door as she sat.

  Dammit. She shook her head and laughed—what a way to cap off the damn evening. Not that it mattered. Her jeans were torn and covered in dirt. Her paisley silk blouse, stained beyond repair. Her shoes… her brand-new leather boots were scuffed to hell. Her long, black hair wobbled in a bun on top of her head after she’d hastily tied it up with a bread tie she'd found in the rubble. And her face, swollen, scratched and bruised. But that was nothing compared to the kitchen.

  Everything had been destroyed. Every single thing.

  It could have been worse, though. Much worse.

  She inserted the key into the ignition and paused, staring up at the house. Twilight sat on the horizon, with just enough light left to cast a dim blue glow across the mountains.

  Black smoke stained the grey stone walls around the kitchen windows, which had been covered haphazardly with plastic until they could order new ones. Tire tracks and ruts ran through the backyard where puddles of mud remained from the hoses. Debris covered the hillside.

  What a mess.

  The house was dark, thanks to the electricity that had been turned off, with only the light of a few lanterns that Weston, Jimmy Campbell, and Zander had while they did one last walkthrough before calling it an evening. Everyone had left except for them. And although she’d argued her ass off, Zander convinced her to leave, telling her that no good would come from her just sitting on the ground, in the dark, waiting for Chief Cage and his team to finish their work. She needed food and rest—that’s what he'd said, anyway. And after he promised that they would be back at first light to finish the job, she finally conceded.

  She took a deep breath, sank heavier into the seat, and closed her eyes.

  Another deep breath.

  She was beyond exhausted, and her body felt… well, like it had just been through an explosion.

  She started the engine, backed up, and slowly drove down the driveway of Black Rose Investigations. She glanced up at the oak trees that grew like a tunnel over the driveway, their leafless branches intertwining above her, looking even creepier than usual against the dim light.

  It would be dark soon.

  She paused at the end of the mailbox, hesitant to leave. She hated leaving the house the way it was. She wanted to fix it all, right that minute. Fix it so her sisters didn’t have to. Fix it so the team could focus on solving the dozens of cases they were working on, instead of worrying about explosions and witches.

  She pulled onto the road, and as she drove through the mountains, her worry and pain faded into anger.

  Krestel. The legendary witch of the Great Shadow Mountains. The witch that Dixie had stumbled upon, exposing her true identity. The witch that had escaped jail, almost killed Zander, and now, almost killed everyone she loved most in her life.

  She gripped the steering wheel as the rage began to take hold, feeling like a vibration through her body.

  Shaking from the inside out, she sped up—home, just get home. You’ll fix this like you always do.

  Growing up, Roxy was labeled the overachiever of the family. For better or worse, she pushed herself to be the best at everything, and luckily for her, the best came easily to her. She carried straight A’s in school and was the star player at every sport she attempted. She was highly respected by her friends and family, even at a young age. Roxy had a maturity well beyond her years, which oddly enough, made her feel like an outcast—until her father, former CIA agent turned private investigator, allowed her to work with him on one of his cases.

  She fell in love instantly.

  She was a born PI, through and through. Roxy had inherited her enchanting beauty from her mother and her deeply analytical mind from her father. She was able to put random pieces of a puzzle together that no one else could, which had served her very well in her career.

  Roxy was a ‘yes’ woman—yes, I can do that, yes, I’ll handle it, yes, give it to me, I’ll take care of it. Perhaps it was because she was the oldest, but she always felt the responsibility to take on more, to set an example for her sisters.

  You put way too much pressure on yourself, Roxy dear, her mom would say.

  Failure was not an option to Roxy. Any task that she was given, she completed in half the required time and excelled at the outcome. It wasn’t long before her sisters began to look up to her, admire her, and count on her.

  After their mother and father died in a tragic plane accident a decade earlier, Roxy seamlessly stepped into the role of "mother". And it was that day that Roxy hardened, so to speak. She took it upon herself to take care of everything, from the funeral, the multi-million-dollar estate, to the business, to her younger sisters.

  Always be in control. Never let them see you off your game. Never let them see you cry.

  She was, without question, the glue that held the Knight sisters together.

  And she was damn proud to do it.

  And now, an evil, cunning witch was trying to take it all from her.

  She felt her pulse spike and she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She pressed the gas—faster and faster.

  Her heart pounded.

  As she took a tight corner, the car fish-tailed and the steering wheel slid out of her hands.

  Her heart jumped into her throat. She slammed the brakes, slid to a stop and swallowed deeply.

  Holy. Shit.

  She looked at the steep cliff that hedged the right side of the road, then at the hundred-foot drop-off just feet from the shoulder, on the other side.

  Calm down, Roxy. Calm down.

  Air. She needed air.

  She rolled down the window and took a deep breath, then slowly accelerated.

  Get home, Roxy, just get home.

  Less t
han five minutes later, she rolled to a stop under the port cochere in front of her house. She smiled at the black Chevy parked alongside the trees in the distance. She grabbed her bag and grunted in pain as she got out of the car.

  Damn witch.

  Not surprisingly, the medic had strongly advised Roxy to go straight to the emergency room for an X-ray, but of course, she opted against it.

  Nothing that a stiff drink and a few ibuprofen couldn’t fix.

  She closed the car door and listened to the sounds of nature that surrounded her home—thousands of bugs chirping and buzzing, the rustle of leaves from the critters just beginning to make their nightly rounds, and in the distance, the sound of the lake lapping against the dock.

  She inhaled the musty scent of lakeshore as she walked up the stone steps. She pushed through the heavy front door and was welcomed by a much different smell—sizzling bacon.

  “Roxy?” Fiona poked her head out of the kitchen wearing an apron with the words sexy bitch in the kitch knitted across it. She’d cleaned up, pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, and was barefoot, a habit of hers when she needed to relax. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here… I’ve got dinner…” Her voice faded as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Roxy flung her bag on the shiny marble floor, and deciding to give in to the pain, limped across the expansive foyer. She smiled as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Man, there is nothing better than coming home to the smell of frying bacon.”

  Fiona grinned and unveiled a bottle of Champagne from behind her back. “Oh, yes there is.”

  “Oh, my God, I love you.” She eased herself up to the bar.

  “You okay? How’s your back?”

  “Been better. You?”

  “Your cut looks better, too. I’m sore but good. Wasn’t as lucky to get blood like the rest of you.”

  Roxy snorted and felt a tiny bit of tension release from her shoulders. Being like one big family, the members of Black Rose kept a key to each other’s houses, and as her assistant, Fiona popped in more than most. And tonight—right now—she was sure happy to see Fiona’s beautiful face.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Fiona poured Roxy a glass of Champagne, took a swig from the bottle, and went back to the stove. She took a deep breath as she turned over the bacon in the pan. “I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sleep, and besides, I was hungry.”

  “And everyone knows what you become when you’re hungry.”

  “That’s right. The devil herself. And I’d never pass up an excuse to cook in this amazing kitchen.” She turned and winked.

  Roxy smiled and took a second to look around her house—her house. The house she’d had built from scratch, and was involved in every single detail, every step of the way. It was a sprawling two-story rock lake house in the middle of twenty acres, just yards from Devil’s Lake. Sure it was a little on the luxurious side, but Roxy liked nice things, and didn’t apologize for it.

  The Knight sisters had inherited millions of dollars when their parents passed, and each dealt with the influx of money differently. Dixie, the youngest sister, was the most humble and frugal of the sisters, living in a small cabin and driving a beat-up truck. Scar indulged more than Dixie but invested a good chunk of it, and stashed the rest in multiple savings accounts around the world. Roxy, on the other hand, wasn’t afraid to spend her hard-earned money. She had no doubt that a psychologist would tell her that the material things she purchased were an emotional replacement for the friends and men she never allowed into her life—never let see behind the thick wall she’d built around herself.

  Whatever. Those brand-new boots that just walked off the runway made her happier than any man ever had.

  Ever.

  She gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the great room that looked out to the lake. The moon cast a silver beam across the black water, rippling in the breeze. A thousand stars twinkled in the dark sky, an eerie beauty in an evening filled with chaos. It didn’t fit.

  Fiona glanced over her shoulder. “Also, I kind of wanted to check on you.”

  Roxy took a sip of Champagne and closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the tingle on her tongue. “You know I don’t need checking on, Fi.”

  “Oh I know, I know. The stone-cold, emotionless Knight sister who never needs help. I know.” She grinned as she popped two slices of bread in the toaster and grabbed a tomato from the fridge.

  “BLT’s?”

  “Best late-night snack on the planet.”

  “Amen to that, sister.” She started to stand. “You need help?”

  “No, you sit, I got it. Cooking eases me, you know that.” She grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from the counter and tossed it to Roxy before pulling the bacon from the pan. Then, she grabbed a plate filled with lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and a smear of mayo, and sat down at the bar. “Chief Cage say anything else before you left? Anything new?”

  “No. I only spoke with him right when he got there. He was in the house the whole time after that.” She began building her sandwich.

  With a mouthful of food, Fiona said, “Pretty damn hot, ain’t he?”

  Roxy cocked an eyebrow and lied. “Hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh, please, just because you haven’t had a boyfriend in a decade doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes, or needs for that matter.”

  “Are you here to talk about the fire or my love life?”

  “You mean lack of love life. Seriously, Roxy, you and your sisters are legendary for two things—your superb sleuthing skills, and your mesmerizing beauty.”

  “Give me a break.” She shrugged and bit into her sandwich. “He seems like quite the cocky smartass, to be honest. Anyway, when the sun went down he let everyone go and said he and his team would be back first thing in the morning to search more and determine the cause of the fire. He, a kid named Jimmy, and Zander were packing up when I left.”

  Fiona swallowed a bite of bacon and looked at Roxy. “Rox, seriously? Determine the cause? Did you tell him?”

  Roxy laughed. “Yeah. And let me tell you, I don’t think this is the type of guy to believe in witches.”

  A moment ticked by, and then in a soft voice, Fiona said, “We do believe now, right? Krestel’s real. And she’s cursed us.”

  Roxy’s stomach rolled and she set down her sandwich. “Look, Fi, us private investigators operate in black and white. In facts. We use facts and our God-given intuition to solve cases and more often than not, murders.” She paused. “And although I haven’t been a true believer… Fi, I saw that goddamned smoke swirl into the letter K, just like you did. Just like we all did.”

  Fiona picked up her drink and took a deep gulp. “So what now?”

  Roxy’s bright blue eyes narrowed. “We find the book, Fi.”

  “The Great Shadow Book of Secrets?”

  “Yep.” She sipped.

  Fiona nodded. “Yes… the book that contains all of Krestel’s curses, black magic, and practices.”

  “Exactly.” She paused. “No one’s immortal. There’s got to be a way to kill a witch, and I guarantee you it’s in that damn book.”

  A wicked smile crossed Fiona’s pink lips. She raised her glass.

  Roxy clenched her jaw, raised her glass.

  They clinked the crystal and together, they said, “To kill a witch.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Shadows from the moon danced like ghosts across the yard as Roxy drove down the driveway to Black Rose Investigations.

  She glanced at the clock—10:33.

  She hadn’t received a call from Chief Cage informing her that it was safe to go back into the house, but she didn’t care. After Fiona had left, she was anxious, edgy, and unable to sleep. She felt like she was wasting time just sitting in her house, doing nothing. So after not much convincing and a quick change of clothes, she grabbed her bag and decided to go take another look at the damage inside their office.

  She pulled around to the back
of the building, relieved that no one was there. Although she’d told the team to stay away until the building was cleared, not a single member of Black Rose was good at following orders—which was one of the things she loved most about them. She glanced up at the second floor where Ace lived, free of rent in return for keeping an eye on the place while they weren’t there.

  Not a light on.

  Good—even he had followed orders and was probably staying at one of his many girlfriends’ house.

  She grabbed her bag and got out of the car.

  The cool wind whistled through the trees as she walked to the back door—then stopped in her tracks.

  The door was unlatched.

  What the hell?

  Surely Zander had remembered to lock up?

  Her stomach tickled with nerves, and she reached into her bag and pulled out her gun—the same gun that every member of the Black Rose team carried—a Glock 19 with a hot pink handle and the letters BRI etched down the side. Except Ace’s, his was blue.

  She slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The smell of smoke and char singed her nose as she stepped into the darkness. The light from the moon spilled in through the plastic-covered windows. Everything was black—the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The appliances were toppled over, some thrown across the room from where they belonged. Shattered dishes, pictures, pots, and pans were everywhere.

  She started to reach for the light but remembered the electricity was off. She raised her gun and scanned the room.

  The air was still. Quiet.

  With the gun firmly in her hand, she tiptoed across the kitchen. As she neared the dining room, she noticed a light shining from the hallway.

  Her pulse picked up—someone was definitely inside.

  She slid her finger over the trigger and quickly padded across the dining room, flattened her back against the wall, and listened.

  Nothing.

  She edged to the end of the room.

  Creak.

  Her heart stopped. She held her breath and pressed harder against the wall, hoping to fade into the darkness.

  Creak.

  The sound was closer now, almost inches from her.