HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

It was quiet in the shop at the moment. Aunt Lyra was in the back, working on inventory. Samantha had gone on an errand to Boston, so everything was quiet. With the colder weather coming to Provincetown, the summer tourists had dwindled in the last month or so. Casi gazed around the shop, satisfied with the Halloween decorations on the shelves and tables among the telescopes and lenses and such. A cardboard skeleton hung in one window, while the other window held a mannequin dressed as a witch bent over a cauldron full of colored lenses.

Casi leaned forward and recalling a movie she’d seen, lowered her head and breathed on the glass, turning a circular area misty. With one finger, she started drawing the outline of a skull. She was completely in the mood for Halloween, having dreamed up a dozen costumes for that special night and discarding all of them.

“So what do you want to do for your birthday?”

Casi looked up, startled and as her brain processed the voice, her hope faded. “Chad.” She swiped the glass with her sleeve and straightened up, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Uh, hey.”

Chad Whitfield leaned his elbows on the counter and smiled. “Hey, yourself.”

“What are you—I thought you—“ Casi shook her head, cleared her throat and smiled. “Good to see you.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Your birthday.”

“Oh that. Nothing much.” Casi felt her insides clench. What were the odds that Chad would want to celebrate her birthday. Usually, he was too busy with work to visit before the holidays.

“Au contraire.” Chad set a large manila envelope on the counter, his grin widening, his hazel eyes sparkling.

Casi looked at the envelope. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Casi laughed and opened it. Fancy scroll work bordered the sheet of white paper. In the center in gold caligraphy, it read:

For your birthday—

A five day, four night trip

to majestically beautiful

Romania—

Quaint old world charm,

fascinating legends,

breathtaking sights—

It all can be yours if your name

is Cassandra MacFairlaigne

“Oh, Chad, how sweet.”

Chad leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you want to go?”

A cold chill swept over Casi and she realized she should have said something back in June when he’d met her at the airport. But how do you break news like that? She swallowed hard and was quite tempted to tell him no. But she’d always wanted to go to Romania due to her fascination with vampires and vampire stories.

She wanted to look toward the door and see Joe walk in right now, with a ring and a proposal and let it all be over but the shouting. She kept her eyes on the invitation. “Of course, I’ll go.” You shouldn’t do this, said her conscience, you’re leading him on and that’s not fair to Chad. She told her inner voice to just shut the hell up. “So....how’s the family?”

Chad shrugged, running a long-fingered hand through his honey-colored hair. “Same old, same old, Cassandra.”

Casi heard much more than the terse words. She’d met Chad’s family once five years ago. Chad’s baby sister had vanished and since A.K. had been only twelve at the time, everyone feared the worst. But staying those few days at Whitfield Manor made Casi appreciate her siblings—even Donovan—and her parents all that much more. The thought flashed through her mind once again—no wonder A.K. had tried to run away. “What’s A.K. up to?”

“The usual.” Chad smiled as he said it. He had a special fondness for his baby sister. “She has her life all planned out. Graduates in May, then college next fall. Then she plans to work for Emerson.”

Casi laughed. “Troubleshooter, indeed.” She patted the fancy invitation. “So when do we leave?”

Chad reached out and brushed an auburn curl off her cheek. “Monday.”

Casi blinked. “Shame on you, Chandler Whitfield. That’s awfully short notice. Today’s Thursday.”

“I didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind,” said Chad. Like you always seem to want to, he added silently. He tapped his forefinger against her cheek gently. “Anyway, you work well under pressure.”

Had she been that transparent? Casi gave what she suspected was a very weak smile. “Oh really?”

“I can change—“

“No. Don’t change a thing.”

“Are you certain, Cassandra.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” This trip, she’d tell him. Tell him everything—the truth...that Joe was the man she loved, that she wanted to marry. “Sounds wonderful, Chad.”

“Bloody good.” He glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist. “Lunch?”

“Yes. Let me tell Aunt Lyra and we’ll go.” She ducked behind the beaded curtain and took a deep breath, feeling panicky. If she changed her mind, he’d want to know why and she’d have to explain everything and she wasn’t ready for that. But what if Joe did show up here on her birthday and she wasn’t here?

“If you had asked about this morning, I would have been able to give you a little warning.”

Casi gave a start and saw her aunt standing the doorway to her office. “Aunt Lyra...”

“I will not lecture, Cassandra. I will not say one word. You know your heart, you know your mind. It is your decision.”

“That’s exactly what I didn’t want to hear,” muttered Casi.

“I’ll take over the shop for now. Samantha will be here at one, so take your time.”

“I’d rather you said twelve-thirty, so I could rush back.”

Lyra folded her arms across her chest and just stood there. Casi grunted and turned back toward the beaded curtain. “Fine.” Casi took a deep breath and walked out into the shop and forced a smile on her face. “We’re set to go.”

Chad offered his arm as they left the shop and they strolled down the sidewalk toward Commercial Street. Casi took a deep breath of cold, sea-scented air. She loved it here—especially in winter.

“Cassandra?”

“Yes?”

“Any specific eatery?”

“You pick.”

“Hello, Casi,” said a deep, gravelly voice.

Casi turned. “Malcolm, hi.”

Malcolm MacKensey, Provincetown’s police chief, patted her shoulder. “Sebastian’s cooked up a delicious clam chowder, if you’re hungry, girl.” His blue eyes shifted to Chad. “Hello, Mr. Whitfield.”

Chad nodded his head once. “Chief MacKensey.” He watched MacKensey walk away. Whenever he met the police chief, he always got the impression the man didn’t like him.

Casi gently tugged his arm. “Clam chowder sounds perfect.”

“Yes, of course. Sebastian’s it is.”

*****

23 October 2003

Provincetown, MA

8:09 pm

Cassandra folded the heather-grey sweater and placed it in the suitcase. She’d spent nearly two hours choosing clothes for the trip. She still wasn’t sure she should even go. She turned and looked at the box sitting on her dresser. She’d put the pearl up when she’d returned home from Egypt. Chad, if anything was more conservative than Donovan. No way would he believe a piece of shell would retain memories.

Casi walked to the dresser and slowly raised the box lid. Then she gathered the chain up and slipped it over her head, not caring how silly the necklace looked with cotton flannel pajamas. She picked up the pearl and let it sit in her palm. She closed her eyes and closed her hand over the small marble-shaped pearl...

“...no more.. the longer I listen, the more I feel I’ve fallen through the looking glass...Finally, why didn’t we just go back the way we’d come?”

“I don’t like to back track. By the way, you’re the ugliest Alice I’ve ever met.”

“You sure as hell ain’t no White Rabbit.”

Casi let go of the pearl. The memory had been so vivid. She’d seen the bridge she’d fallen off of....Absently, her free hand touched her temple. Had Joe been right? Had it been a sniper? She shuddered and remembered how disoriented Joe had been after his accident in the Bentley. He’d muttered about Raven being the sniper that had killed Bryce. A cold chill swept over her. Did that mean Raven had shot at her?

She remembered with cold clarity what had happened last year when Raven tried to shoot at her and the gun kept jamming. It wasn’t beyond belief that Raven would try another way. But why? She shook her head slowly and took off the pearl and placed it back in it’s box.

Casi took a deep breath and looked at the other objects sitting on her dresser. Michael had sent them to her back in August, for no other reason than that she connected with each of them and no one else had. The bracelet glinted dully in the overhead light and she touched a light finger on the amber spacers. Next to the bracelet was the circlet and in the circle it formed sat the chalice. Next to it was the unicorn. She still wasn’t sure how Michael had gotten them out of Egypt or managed to send them to her without customs jumping on him.

She touched the chalice but not the square orange stone in the center of the etched design. The heavy object was ice-cold to the touch and made her shiver. Slowly, just to see if it would happen again, she touched the smooth square stone, then looked at the tip of her finger. Not a drop of blood anywhere.

Casi took a deep breath and looked at the circlet. She’d done research since she’d come home. Cristina had been right. Wiccans had something similar except for the center stone. She reached for the circlet, forgetting she’d put the chalice down in the circle formed by the circlet.

The chalice tipped over and a dark red liquid splashed over the dresser and the front of her lavender pajamas. Casi stared at it, shocked. The chalice was empty—should be empty. Casi saw some had splattered on her hand. The urge to lick it off hit her hard. Her hand was actually to her lips before she stopped herself.

Casi raised her eyes to the mirror. Looking at her reflection , seeing the splatters on the pajamas, on her hand made her stomach lurch. She began to unbutton the pajama top. She had to get the top off and wash it before the blood set. Her stomach lurched again. Oh God, it was blood. She could smell it now. She jerked her hand away and licked her lips unaware there’d been some of the liquid—blood—on her bottom lip. She swallowed and it burned like fire going down. It hit her already queasy stomach and made her gag. Oh my God—

Casi took a deep breath and looked for something to wipe her hand. She shed the pajama top and wiped her hand off, deciding in that instant to throw the pajamas away. She pulled off the pants and hurried into the bathroom. She needed a hot, cleansing shower.

It gradually dawned on her as the water began to cool that what had happened shouldn’t have happened. Had she imagined it? No. Casi turned off the water, dried off and put on her robe. The pajama pants lay where she’d dropped them, a single drop staining the left leg. Gingerly, she picked up the pants and went into the bedroom to get the top. What she saw froze her to the spot. The chalice still lay on its side but the dresser was clean. Nothing marred the black laquered surface, nothing stained the wood floor—yet her pajamas were proof it had happened. A chill swept over her. Something was dreadfully wrong.

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The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.