Page 10 of The Sister's Curse

Gibby trotted inside, trailing a couple of moths, and buried his muzzle in his water dish. I opened a can of dog food, which he devoured greedily. He was still very food insecure—he’d eat anything put in front of him, and try to steal more. But his ribs were now encased in a nice layer of fat, and his speckled fur was glossy. Progress.

Gibby stayed with me, not with Nick. Nick enjoyed having a dog, but his shiny bachelor-pad condo wasn’t exactly conducive to having one. Here, Gibby’s nails could scratch up the floor; he could dig for stinky things in the yard and get bathed in my cast-iron bathtub. There was little fragile enough for him to break here, though, if I left him alone, I could anticipate the loss of a pair of shoes.

I showered off the scummy pond water. My fingers hesitated on scars crossing my ribs. I’d been shot once upon a time. The guy who shot me survived to see prison. My hand slipped up to soap my arms, where tiny scars from bird shot speckled my skin. Shot twice upon a time. That guy was dead; I had killed him outright. I’d gone back to work after the first time, the second time. I wondered if that was enough, if there would be a third.

Gibby poked his head around the shower curtain. I invited him in, dumped some shampoo on him, lathered, then rinsed. I toweled us both off, though Gibby shook himself all over the bathroom.

I dressed in a tank top and yoga pants, then climbed into bed. I glanced at Nick’s vacant spot beside me. I thought of myself as someone who could keep her own company, but I missed him this evening.

Missing someone was strange for me. I’d let Nick into my life fully, into my present and my past. He’d accepted both. And with that, there was a kind of yearning that felt foreign, a worry. I’d let my guard down to reach for him, and I hoped he wouldn’t disappear. I feared losing him, feared that he’d pull away. That he would get into an accident on the way home from work. It felt…anxious. Unfamiliar.

I checked my texts, finding one of his classically terse missives:

Bad case. Be there when I can.

I knew Mason was in the best hands.

Nick had a key. He would come when he could.

I rolled over in bed, shoving my pillow under my neck. Gibby crawled into bed, sighing deeply. I didn’t care about a wet dog in bed. I reached down to stroke his back. Gibby and I were alike in a way, killers who’d been redeemed. Hopefully.

When I closed my eyes, I saw the symbol carved on the skull’s forehead, the snake eating its own tail. I had seen that somewhere before…

I reached for my cell phone. A few minutes of googling yielded the answer. The snake eating its own tail was the ouroboros, a symbol of infinity; of life, death, and rebirth; of the transmigration of souls.

I drifted into a muzzy sleep, my mind chewing at the case. Someone had been at the Sumner house. Someone was threatening that family. And maybe they’d made good on that threat.

The darkness on the top of the refrigerator was still. Some part of me wondered what malevolence I’d invited into my house.

—

A green flash washed over my vision, then receded, leaving me steeped in memory.

My mom had rinsed me off and sent me to bed. She’d closed my bedroom door, then turned the lights off in the rest of the house. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, the touch of her bare feet on the linoleum and the clink of a spoon against a cup. I had no idea what she was doing, but I certainly wasn’t going to get out of bed to ask.

I slept. Then woke.

I didn’t know what time it was, but I saw the gray predawn light. I crept out of bed, pushed open my door, and padded to the bathroom to get a glass of water.

I didn’t turn on the lights. I felt for the tap and my plastic cup. Water flowed out, and it smelled sweet—artificially sweet, like something I might find in the candy aisle at the store. I wrinkled my nose.

I smelled sweetness, but also something warm and coppery…blood.

“Don’t drink that. It’s poisoned.”

I started, stumbling back against the wall and fumbling for the light switch.

Mom, wrapped in towels, sat in the avocado green bathtub. The towels were bloody. She was pale, with circles under her eyes. There was an ashtray on the edge of the tub, and her shaking fingers reached for a cigarette.

I stood frozen. “Mom, are you okay?”

She lit the cigarette and inhaled. “I’ll be okay.”

“What…what happened?” I squeaked.

“I lost the baby.” She said it quietly.

I didn’t know there was a baby. I had no idea that she’d been pregnant at all.