Page 60 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter forty-five

Eliana

The next day, I’m downstairs before Killian. We didn’t share a bed last night. It’s probably for the best. I can feel him distancing himself from me, which is fair because of how I responded to the garden beds. But I don’t want him to put space between us. Yet, I did it to him.

Rejection, without being rejection. Is that a thing?

I groan to myself and pour hot coffee into my mug.

Killian comes into the kitchen, and slides his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind, and kisses my temple.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” he says in my ear.

“Morning,” I mumble into my coffee, fighting the way my body comes alive when he touches me.

He tenses against me, but I stay still as he steps away and reaches around me to grab a mug.

I can feel his eyes all over me, but I refuse to make eye contact. I don’t know why.

No, I’m lying to myself. I do know why. I’m afraid of what I’ll see. I’m afraid I’ll see the one thing I’m not prepared to handle, let alone lose. Yet, I so ardently want to let him comfort me, let him be the man he has been for me and promises to be.

“We need to move one of the herds today, and we can put the goats out for the day in the pasture close to us,” he says.

“I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“Eliana,” he calls.

My skin prickles, and I hate how I love the way he says my name.

I hum, still staring at my coffee like it has all the answers I need.

“Baby, look at me,” he says.

I know I’ll melt the moment those brown eyes touch my own. But I do it anyway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I mumble.

“Is it the garden beds? Because I could feel you freeze up. I scared you, and after I thought about it. I get it, but there’s no pressure. I was only trying to help.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Then why are you acting like this?” he asks.

I can hear the frustration in his voice, and I don’t blame him. I’m frustrated too. Not with him, but with myself. My intention was never to gain feelings for Killian, but I have, and I can’t deny it. But that doesn’t mean I need to fully act on them.

My dear child, you have acted on them plenty. If you do not want to be with him, then you need to tell him. Though we do believe that is a mistake. What is between you has already been written.

I look away from Killian, silently angry at the Spirits.

In my gut, I know they’re right, but it doesn’t change the emotional facts.

We’ve both been grieving, and will continue to do so.

I don’t want anything that grows between us to be because of the grief.

For the first time in my life, I admit that I need someone for me, not because of who I’ve become or what I’ve been through. Someone who chooses me.

Has Killian given you any reason to believe he’s anything but the man he has shown you to be?

I pin my lips together so I don’t answer them out loud.

“Eliana,” Killian says again.

“I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m overwhelmed, Killian, and I don’t know what to do with all of it. And I want to be careful.”

“Careful with what?” he asks.

“You,” I whisper.

“Me?” he says, taken aback.

I nod and take a gulp of hot coffee.

“Darlin’, I don’t need you to coddle me, let alone protect my feelings. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“It’s not that. I just—”

“You know what, let’s table this discussion and get to work. We need to move cattle, and I know you need to go back to your house, open the apothecary, and maybe start putting some things back together.”

I swallow my words, sensing his irritation.

“Yeah, okay,” I mumble.

He dips his chin stiffly and pours his coffee into the sink before stomping out the door.

This is not how I wanted that to go, but how else do I protect both of us? How else do we see if this is real? Am I the only one who feels like we might be dragging each other down instead of setting each other free?

After we move the cattle, and get the goats out. I take care of the other animals, and then we head to my house.

In all honesty, I don’t want to go. I wanted to crawl in bed and hide from it all. But it has to be done. So I ask God for strength and hope I don’t have a total breakdown when we get there. But I’m not holding my breath.

Killian turns the corner and slows the truck down. I start to ask him why, and then I see it.

There are Sheriff’s vehicles all over, parked in front of my house.

“What the hell?” Killian mumbles.

My hands start shaking, and I pin them between my thighs.

Child, prepare yourself. The darkness we saw has come.

I glance at Killian anxiously, trying not to burst into tears. There are too many emotions flying through me, and I can’t handle it all. I’m falling apart at the seams, the darkness threatening to swallow me whole.

Killian pulls off to the side of the street, a few houses down, and grabs my chin, so I’m not looking at the chaos.

“Whatever we find, whatever we’re faced with, I am here. You understand? I’m not going to run the other way. I’ve got you, Eliana. Whatever this is, we can face it.”

“What if it has to do with you?” I whisper.

He shakes his head and reaches for his hat on the dashboard. “If it were, they would’ve come to the ranch. What’s going on has to do with you.”

“That’s encouraging,” I mumble.

He leans across the armrest so he’s in my face and kisses my cheek. “I’m here. And remember, if Wyatt is here, we’re together.”

I nod.

“Are the Spirits telling you anything?” he asks.

“They said the darkness they saw is here,” I whisper, almost as if it’s a curse from my own lips.

Killian stares at me for a moment, his heavy gaze weighing me down, but I can’t look at him. I’ll break, and now is not the time. I have to keep it together.

He gets out of the truck, coming around to my side to open the door for me, and takes my hand to walk us down the street to my house, which appears to be a crime scene now.

One of my shutters is still hanging by a thread, and I noticed the windows are peeling.

Why does everything that’s not that bad seem to look worse when you’re on the edge of a breakdown?

People are grouped behind the police tape in front of the sidewalk, blocking them from standing in my yard.

I don’t miss the glares the observers throw.

This town is far too accustomed to murder, but the fact that it’s at the ‘witch’s house’ makes this all the more interesting for them.

They’ll be talking about it for months to come because there’s nothing else to talk about.

“Come on,” Killian says, tugging my hand.

We slip into the fray of deputies in the front yard, and no one seems to notice we’re here.

We go around to the back of the house, where it looks like most of the craziness is happening. The Spirits get louder, nearly shrieking in my head, and I try to breathe through it, but it’s making my ears pulse. Vomit crawls up my throat, and I stop, trying to swallow it down.

Killian stoops down to meet my eyes. “Is it them?” he asks.

I nod and take another deep breath. He kisses my forehead, and they ease up a bit.

“I’m ready,” I mumble.

Killian’s serious expression tells me I’m probably not ready for what we’re about to see, but he squeezes my hand and gently tugs me forward, even though I want to run the other way.

“Shit,” Killian mumbles as we come around the corner.

My bones, my blood, my entire being shrieks at the scene. I’m too frozen to run, and I’m too appalled at the blatant display of evil to say a word.

There is a dead woman on my property, laying amongst my shredded garden surrounded by a wreath of precisely cut lavender.

The volume of the Spirits deafens me, and all I can do is stand there and take it, and hope I don’t pass out from the noise only I can hear.

My gag reflex triggers again, and I cover my mouth in an attempt not to cry, but the tears come anyway.

The darkness is coming.

The darkness is here.

The darkness is coming.

The darkness is here. The Spirits chant.

Killian squeezes my hand again, drawing my attention from the poor woman in the dirt.

I look up to find Wyatt staring at me with his little notebook in his hand, small enough to fit in the breast pocket of his shirt.

There’s an odd expression on his face, and I don’t know what to make of it.

His jaw moves with the peppermint rolling around in his mouth as he drags his scrutiny to Killian.

“If I tell you not to talk anymore, don’t, okay? It might be time we get a lawyer,” Killian says quickly in my ear.

“There’s one lawyer in town, and I’m pretty sure I pretended to curse him,” I mumble out of the side of my mouth.

“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles.

“Ms. Greer, Killian,” Wyatt says walking up to us. And I pick up on the fact that he’s not telling us to move away. He wanted us to see this … depravity.

“Do you know who this is?” Wyatt asks.

I peek around the half-dead rose bush to see the poor women and then it clicks.

Hazel Usher. But I’m not sure I should say that.

She’s hard to look at. Maybe it’s the hair and the fake tan.

I look up at Killian, attempting to swallow down the panic as a bone chilling shiver runs through me.

She was with Jane Reed, who was yelling at me.

“Better question is how did you find her?” Killian asks.

Wyatt looks between us. “I came to ask Ms. Greer some questions earlier this morning, and figured she was out back since she didn’t answer the door. Instead, I found this, and Ms. Greer clearly not home,” he says, and gives me a quizzical look.

Hazel is wearing one of my dresses. The only reason I know it’s mine is because I made it myself.

Her hair is dyed white, like mine, all the way down to the roots.

Her skin is a caramel brown like mine, as if she used too much self-tanner, and her throat is slit.

The gash is so big I don’t think she lasted long.

My heart twists with loss for Hazel. She didn’t deserve this fate, even if she wasn’t very nice. None of us do.

Evil is ever present in a fallen world child. It is not justification but a reality of the depths of which humanity is cursed to endure.

I don’t answer them because I know they’re right.

Wyatt glances between me and the body. “Killian, do you know who this woman is?” he asks.

Killian remains stoic, unreadable as he looks at the body. “I’m pretty sure it’s Hazel Usher,” he says, and pulls me to his side.

“It is, but I’d say it’s fairly obvious who she appears to be. It’s not quite a perfect match, but it was carefully done, wasn’t it?” Wyatt asks, looking between me and Hazel.

Killian doesn’t answer, and I cling to him because he’s the only thing holding me up as an icicle of fear slides between my vertebrae.

“And ya’ know … I find it odd that he picked a local girl this time around. What do you think about that?” Wyatt asks us.

I don’t know what to say, and Killian is staying tight-lipped.

“Yeah,” Wyatt says, staring at Killian. “So, Ms. Greer, was your garden like this, last time you were home?” Wyatt asks me.

Killian squeezes my shoulder, and my instinct is to lie because I don’t understand the bigger picture, and there’s only one person who would’ve been so careful, so obvious.

But maybe he should know. If Wyatt is responsible for this, he should know that I know. We’ve dug ourselves too deep into lies, and I won’t dig deeper with this one.

“Yes,” I rasp.

Wyatt’s dark scrutiny drills into me, and it’s making me uneasy.

“Did you do this to your garden?” he asks.

“No, I did not ruin my livelihood, Sheriff,” I snap.

“Can you explain why anyone would do this?” Wyatt asks.

I lift a shoulder, peeking at Killian. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Why didn’t you call us about it?” Wyatt asks.

“What happened to Ms. Usher?” Killian asks, ignoring Wyatt’s questions.

While they stare each other down, I peer at poor Hazel laying in the middle of my garden amongst the shredded plants. It all feels too coincidental.

I loved that dress with the little flowers all over it. It was one I made with Grams. Yet another thing I’ve lost with her. It was also the same dress I was wearing when Wyatt came to ask me about Killian’s alibi.

Hazel’s head is angled strangely, looking up into the sky, as if she’s posing for an old Renaissance painting.

Her knees are together, angled to one side, and her arms are placed, one above her head and the other across her stomach.

The pose is unnatural. Anyone who’s looking can tell it was done with intention, maybe even a sick form of love.

I lean forward a little more, and it’s hard to tell, but the way her hand is positioned above her head, there might be something in it.

Pulling away from Killian, blood rushes in my ears as I get closer to Hazel, and one of the deputies lifts his arm, stopping me. But I’m close enough to see that the Monitio Flos De Letum is carefully laid in her hand. Exactly as Killian described it to me.

The lavender surrounding her has been meticulously cut closer to the end of the stem, like it usually is when it’s being harvested.

And every stem is the same length as the others.

The only way that could happen is if someone went through and measured each of them.

When harvesting from a plant, they are rounded, so the stems will always be relatively uneven.

I take a step back from Deputy Redding, keeping me from getting closer, and Killian’s eyes meet mine in silent communication. He’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Whoever killed Hazel, murdered the woman Killian found.

And whoever killed those women … is after me.

What would Grams say about all of this? The moment I saw my garden torn up, it felt like a violation of my peace, my family, me. But a shredded garden was nothing. Now? I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at this space the same. A place of healing has been bloodied by unnatural death.

I reach for Killian’s hand, seeking the comfort only he seems to be able to give me.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Greer, you can’t stay here. Your property is a crime scene, and because we only have one tech, it’s going to take a while. But that doesn’t seem to be an issue for you. Is it?”

Killian’s jaw twitches under the pressure he’s putting it through.

“I’ll be fine,” I mumble.

“Good, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions before you leave. But without Killian, please,” Wyatt says.

“No—”

“I’ve got it,” I mumble.

He reluctantly lets go of my hand, and I follow Wyatt so we’re out of earshot from Killian.