Cursed by the Fountain of Youth Page 9

  He’d been beyond careful not to lose a drop. Gravity had been his friend when he cut off her hands and feet. He simply had to wait for each limb to drain completely into the trash can.

  He didn’t relish the idea of drinking out of the garbage. He’d fill the jars first and then measure the blood carefully.

  If the journal writings were correct, it would take a cup to restore his youth—taking him back to his early twenties. Then if he waited and drank every fifty years, he would have enough blood to last a thousand years.

  Would her blood really remain fresh for so long? According to the writings, it would. But could he trust it? No one else had tried to keep it as long as he planned. Should he freeze it? What if freezing it changed it? Made it so it didn’t work?

  He’d have to trust the writings—have faith that they were true. He was never very good at faith.

  Lafayette carried the can into the bathroom. Placing the plug in the sink, he sat a jar in the middle of it. Then he went to retrieve the blood. Gingerly, he lifted the trash bag from the wastebasket. He had tied it off tightly. If it tore, he could lose precious years.

  Placing it on the counter, he cut a small hole in the bag and poured the crimson fluid into the jars, filling nearly five. Then he took out the measuring cup and filled it. He added some herbs to the life blood and stirred, then prepared to drink.

  “Well, this is it,” he said with hope in his voice. “A moment of truth.”

  He lifted the blood to his lips and drank deeply. It was thick, warm, and had a deep, coppery taste to it. He suppressed the urge to gag.

  Finally, the he drained the cup completely.

  Raising his eyes to the bathroom mirror, he searched his face for the first signs of change. It should come quickly. His heart pounded as he looked carefully at every wrinkle, every age spot, and at the gray hair on his head.

  The minutes ticked by.

  Nothing.

  No change.

  When five minutes elapsed, his excitement burned away into anger.

  It wasn’t working!

  Why wasn’t it working? It was supposed to work immediately.

  Six minutes passed.

  He continued to pace. When a full twenty minutes passed, he picked up a jar and hurled it against the wall behind the bathtub. It shattered; blood and glass shards splattered across the tile. He yelled and cursed as the other jars followed. His rage burned so hot he couldn’t contain it. A slew of profanity spewed from his mouth.

  That idiot college student wasn’t Fae. She couldn’t be. He’d made a mistake. When the last jar joined the others, he looked around for something else to throw. Or even better, something to hit.

  Or someone.

  Stomping into the next room, he pulled out a number he’d been saving for “after.” Dialing the phone, he waited for the familiar voice.

  “Hello, this is Angel,” a sweet voice said.

  “Hello, Angel,” Lafayette answered, careful not to let any of the anger he felt come through in his voice. “I need you for an hour. It’s still a hundred dollars, right?”

  “You betcha, sweetheart.”

  He provided her his location and hung up.

  Pacing the room, he felt like a caged tiger. His mind raced over the events of the night. He’d made the mistake by rushing in. He was so eager to reclaim his youth, he hadn’t even found out what Fae looked like. He’d made assumptions as he watched the girl from his hiding place in the closet. The room obviously belonged to her, and that was Fae’s room. Where had he gone wrong? Could he have overlooked something? His mind had dulled over the years. He was making too many mistakes! It had to be his age. He needed to talk to Brigitte. She had the answers. He looked up at the clock and frowned. What was taking the prostitute so—

  A faint knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and lightened his mood.

  She was here.

  He opened the door and saw her initial reaction—disgust. Her expression changed quickly to a pleasant smile, but he’d seen how she really felt. Yeah, he was an old man. But old men had needs too.

  He motioned for her to come inside.

  “I’ll need the money first,” she said as he closed the door.

  “Of course,” he answered, and opened the end table drawer. “Cash, right?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart. I don’t take check or charge. Oh, and there’s a few rules…” Her voice dropped off and her eyes widened when she got a look at the duct tape in his hand.

  Chapter 12

  Fae had never felt so conspicuous. Nick walked to her right, a half a pace behind. Nearly every female they passed had her eyes on him. Did he have to deal with that kind of attention all the time? Fae’s mind flashed back to the first time she saw him.

  Oh yeah, he’d had her full attention.

  She really wished she could link her arm in his. She wanted to claim him so the other women would back off. But he wasn’t hers. They weren’t even allowed to date—at least not yet.

  “Be sure you sit close to me,” he muttered at her back.

  She nodded, suddenly reminded that any one in the sea of faces passing her could be a murderer. “Are you able to carry your gun here?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “I always carry when I’m out in public.”

  This was one instance when knowing there was an armed man on campus made her feel safer. She’d feel even safer if she could carry her own 9 millimeter Ruger with her. Right now, it was doing her no good, locked in a storage shed. “Do you think I could get special permission to carry too?”

  “Definitely not,” he snapped.

  She frowned at his quick dismissal. “You sound as if you think I’ll shoot myself in the foot. I’ll have you know, I learned to shoot before I learned to ride a bike.”

  “I’m not questioning your ability, Fae. There are strict gun laws for college campuses that cannot be waived for any reason.”

  “Oh,” she said, stunned. “And you—”

  “I’m FBI.”

  “Every time you teach class, you’re carrying?”

  “Yes.”

  “That's good to know. Do you think I’d make a good agent?” The question popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think it through. What if he said no?

  “I think you’d make an excellent agent.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. You are my star pupil.”

  “Don’t you think you’re biased?” she asked.

  “I am biased,” he answered without hesitation. “Regardless of that, there’s no denying that you are brilliant.”

  A grin spread across her face before turning to a smirk. “More brilliant that you?”

  Nick narrowed his eyes and fought back a smile. “Sweetheart, no one is as brilliant as me.” The sparkle in his eyes told her he was joking. Or was he?

  Without thinking, Fae stepped up to the vending machine.

  Nick chuckled. “You and your Coke.”

  “It keeps me alert.”

  “Most people use coffee for that,” he said.

  “Coffee makes me jittery. I can’t handle too much caffeine.”

  Minutes later, they stepped through the door of the classroom. “I’m giving you a heads up,” Nick said. “I have someone coming to visit the class. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Really?” Fae’s heart lit up. Maybe this was an expert in the field Nick wanted her to meet. Fae had set her sights on being a police detective, but perhaps the FBI would be a better fit. Seeing as she had just started college, she had a long time to think about her career. But it was something to consider.

  * * * * *

  Nick kept Fae in his peripheral vision as he started class. Ten minutes into his lecture, Special Agent Thomas strolled in. Thomas’s eyes flickered over to Fae, and then he took a seat at the back.

  Fae had been taking notes, but stopped and raised her head and glanced over her shoulder. As she turned back, Nick could see the confusion on her face.

  W
ithout missing a beat, Nick continued. “The rate of incarceration has tripled in the last thirty years. And of those incarcerated, only forty percent are violent offenders. Couple that with the fact that our prisons are overflowing with inmates, and we can’t build prisons fast enough, we are faced with a major problem. For those of you looking to go into law enforcement, how does this information affect how you would do your job?”

  The answers were the kinds he expected: it would be disheartening, we should focus on violent offenders, drugs should be legalized...

  When Agent Thomas’s hand went up, Nick was surprised. He called on him. “Yes, Mr. Thomas?”

  “If I were to choose what to do with criminals, I’d say arm all the dangerous ones, drop them on an island, and let them fight to the death. And then all the non-violent offenders should be put into camps and forced to do hard labor fourteen hours a day.”

  Nick had to force back a smile when the class erupted in a hum of angry voices. Nick gave the seasoned agent a thanks-a-lot glare and shook his head. Nick spent the rest of class reeling in the chaos and getting the discussion back on track.

  When Nick dismissed class, the students filed out, most of them glaring at Agent Thomas while a couple others smiled appreciatively.

  When the last of the students trickled out, Nick approached the agent. “Thanks a lot for livening up my lecture.”

  “I knew that would get them going,” Thomas snickered. “So, who did you need me to talk to? I must say, I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

  Nick turned back to invite Fae to join them. What he saw unnerved him. She was glued to her seat, obviously terrified.

  “Fae?” he asked gently. “Is something wrong?”

  Her eyes were locked on Agent Thomas. She nodded her head.

  “Do you know Agent Thomas?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “Fae, what’s wrong?” he asked. Her eyes turned to him and then snapped back to Thomas.

  Nick looked at the agent and found his expression a strange mixture of shock and apprehension. Thomas carefully rose from his seat and raised his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you, Fae. I promise.”

  “What are you?” she asked, her voice quaking.

  What are you? Not, who are you?

  Thomas’s eyes darted back and forth from Fae to Nick, finally landing on Fae. “What do you see?”

  She swallowed. “You look like a man…” she hesitated, “but you’re not.”

  Nick’s heart sank. Fae was having some kind of a psychotic episode.

  Nick could hear Thomas’s sigh. He looked back at the man and saw resignation in his eyes. “I’m what you’d call a shape-shifter.”

  “I don’t understand,” Fae said.

  “What are you talking about?” Nick snapped at the man.

  Thomas looked back at Nick. “My kind originates from the wilds of Alaska.”

  Nick locked his arm around Fae’s waist and stepped back, pulling her with him. “Fae, we’re leaving.”

  Turning toward the door, he prepared to storm out and nearly ran Thomas over. That man can move insanely fast!

  “I know this is hard to believe,” Thomas said. “But it’s true. Fae is not crazy. She has a sight. She can see things as they truly are.”

  “I’ve never seen anything or anyone like you.”

  “There aren’t many of us around—especially not here.” Thomas looked back to Nick. “You wanted Fae to talk to me. What did you need her to tell me?”

  “You’re insane,” Nick breathed. “You stay away from her.”

  Thomas frowned. He closed his eyes and blew out a slow breath. When his eyes opened, Nick stumbled back. Fae grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.

  Thomas’s eyes were a golden yellow! “This can’t be real,” Nick muttered as he closed his eyes. He opened them again. The man’s eyes were still yellow. “It’s a trick.”

  Thomas reached out his hand and held Nick in a vise grip, sharp fingernails digging into Nick’s skin. “It’s not a trick, and my time is very valuable. You said that Fae had something to do with the investigation.”

  “Threatening me will get you nowhere,” Nick growled.

  “What investigation?” Fae asked.

  Thomas turned to her. “Twenty-five bodies have been found near the Fountain of Youth—sixteen recent murders and nine others from decades before.”

  Fae blanched white and sank into a nearby chair. “No,” she breathed.

  Thomas let go and approached Fae. “What’s wrong?”

  “Brigitte…”

  “Brigitte?” Thomas asked.

  “She said my mother was buried there.”

  “How long ago?” Thomas asked.

  “Twenty-two years.”

  “I think I know which one she is.” He frowned. “We’ll need a DNA sample from you. We’ll see if we can match it.”

  Fae sighed. “I’d always hoped I’d find my mother alive. I thought she might be looking for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Thomas said. Hesitantly, he reached out to her hand. “May I? I just need a small sample of blood for the test.”

  Fae nodded.

  Taking her hand in his, he lifted his index finger—an inch-long claw extended from it. He nicked her finger, sopped up the blood on a handkerchief, and placed it in a zip-lock bag.

  “This is insane. You really are a…”

  “Kushtaka,” Thomas supplied.

  “And the division…they know?”

  Thomas nodded.

  “Is Thomas really your name?” Nick asked.

  Thomas smiled and shook his head. “My name is Kaare, but my friends in the division call me Thomas.”

  Fae lifted her finger and sucked on the blood.

  “Is that still bleeding?” Nick asked her.

  Fae nodded.

  Nick pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket only to find it covered in blood. “Oh, right. I guess I never got this washed.” He replaced it in his pocket, and a flash of red caught his attention. Wet blood coated his hand.

  “That doesn’t make sense. The blood should have dried by now.”

  Thomas was there in a moment, grabbing Nick’s bloody hand and lifting it to his nose. He inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowed. “There’s something unnatural in her blood.”

  “I have hemophilia. My blood never clots. I do heal quickly, though. So it’s not usually a problem.”

  Nick’s brows pressed together. “But it should dry.”

  “You were in the Fountain of Youth, weren’t you?” Thomas asked.

  Fae’s eyes snapped up. “Brigitte said I was born in it. But, how did you know?”

  “That’s not important.” He looked at Nick. “Fae needs protection.”

  “She’s already got it.”

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Someone tried to kill her. A case of mistaken identity cost another girl her life.”

  “That makes no sense,” Thomas said. “Fae’s more valuable alive.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nick asked.

  Thomas ignored his question. “Was the girl drained of blood?”

  The hairs on the back of Nick’s neck stood on end. “Yes.”

  Thomas narrowed his eyes and looked Nick up and down—apparently sizing him up. “Don’t let her out of your sight. Whoever the perpetrator is, he’s dangerous.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Nick asked.

  “I need to talk to Jones first,” Thomas said.

  “I want in on that conversation,” Nick said.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I need to know what’s going on,” Nick growled.

  “You will,” Thomas said. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  “You’d better,” Nick threatened.

  Chapter 13

  “You look beautiful.”

  Fae looked up to see Becca sitting in her wheelchair in the doorway of Fae’s temporary room—the lar
gest and most beautiful room she’d ever slept in.

  “Thanks,” Fae said and gave a weak smile. “You’re welcome to come in.”

  Becca smiled and rolled inside.

  “I really appreciate your brother taking me on this date tonight,” Fae said as she wrapped her blonde hair around a curling iron. “My roommate was really counting on me.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Becca smirked. “It’s a real sacrifice for Nick.” She coughed, her head lolling with the movement.

  “You okay?” Fae asked, concerned.

  “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “I know my brother. He’s head over heels for you. I just want to know how you feel about him. Are you going to break his heart?”

  Fae shook her head. “I…I don’t know how I feel. I was rarely allowed to make friends. A boyfriend was out of the question. And Nick…? Well, seriously, who wouldn’t want to be with him? He’s kind, he’s smart, he’s funny… Not to mention, he’s the sexiest man alive.”

  “I’ll have to take your word on that one.” Becca winked, and then coughed softly.

  Fae chuckled, her laughter dying off into a sigh. “I guess I’m not ready to think beyond the fact that I like being with him. He makes me feel safe, and I do like to kiss him.”

  Becca cracked a smile. “I guess that’s good enough for now.”

  Fae finished curling her hair and clipped it back. Then she took a look at the overall effect.

  “You look stunning,” Becca said with a smile on her face, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes.

  Fae’s heart sat heavy in her chest. Becca was not quite halfway into her twenties and had a classic beauty of her own. If only...

  Fae turned to her. “Why don’t you let me do your makeup?”

  A spark lit Becca’s eyes. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. Do you have any idea how terrible Mrs. Anchovy is at putting on makeup? And Nick’s even worse. If you do a good job, you’ll just have to take over.”

  Fae smiled brightly. “I’d be happy to.” She stepped over to Becca and pulled her hair back, securing it with a band, and then she got to work.

  Minutes later, Nick stepped into the doorway. “Wow, Becca. Who knew that Fae could work miracles? You actually look pretty.”