Heart of the Witch (7 page)

"I'm okay," Ravyn replied, looking away from the question in her sister's eyes.

"You haven't thought of anything else to tell the police?" Sorina asked.

Ravyn released a breath and shook her head. "I told them everything I could." Which really wasn't a lie. She'd told them everything she could without risking them finding out what she'd done. Them and the coven.

Sorina glanced over her shoulder. Ravyn followed her gaze. Two customers were browsing the store. One was a heavyset woman who was sniffing the jars of candles. Occasionally her nose would turn up, and she'd hurriedly replace the jar on its shelf with a horrified look. The other patron was a scruffy, dark-haired man perusing the jewelry in the case near the front door.

Neither of them was within earshot, but Ravyn's sister still lowered her voice. "I know you don't trust mortals, but you have to help the police find this guy. What he did to those women… What he could have done to you…" She broke off. Tears pooled in her eyes.

"This has nothing to do with how I feel about mortals," Ravyn whispered. "And I
am
trying to help."

Sorina took her hand. "I thank God you survived, Ravyn. If it had been me, I know I wouldn't have been as brave as you. For you to escape without using your powers…? It's unbelievable. I'm so proud."

Ravyn couldn't meet her sister's eyes. "It was all over so quickly," she said.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you."

Ravyn forced a cheerfulness into her tone that she didn't feel. "Hey, you don't need to worry about this stuff right now. You have a wedding to plan."

A grin eased the quivering from Sorina's lips. "I know. And thanks for pretending you're excited about it."

Ravyn smiled in return, if inside she was a bit melancholy. "Well, as far as mortals go, Justin isn't that bad. I guess if you have to get married, you could've done worse. Much worse." As I
almost did
. She didn't say the last words aloud. Her sister knew all about the fiasco with Kayne, and the two of them never spoke about it.

"If I
have
to get married? You're such a bummer sometimes." Sorina rolled her eyes, but happiness glimmered in their depths. "You'll know someday. When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you'll know. Love makes everything better. Even with the problems, you have that glow inside, the assurance that no matter what, everything will be okay. I want that for you someday. I want you to know the bliss of love."

"Don't hold your breath," Ravyn muttered.

Sorina snorted, but she didn't respond to the softly spoken cynicism. Instead she suggested, "Justin's going away on a business trip for a few days. Why don't you come stay with me while he's gone?"

Ravyn could see the concern in her sister's eyes, but she wasn't sure whom it was for. "I can't stay at your place with your cat," she reminded her.

Sorina laughed and shook her head. Still speaking in a whisper, she grumbled, "A witch who's allergic to cats. There's one for the record books."

Ravyn shrugged. "Why don't you stay with me?"

Sorina turned up her nose and gave a delicate shiver. "At that primitive hovel you live in?" A smile softened her words. "I guess for you I could make an exception. For a few nights."

"For me? You're the one afraid to be alone," Ravyn pointed out.

Her sister nodded. "I'm afraid for you to be alone, too. We don't know what that man—"

The candle sniffer interrupted. Ravyn hadn't heard her approach, but the woman was suddenly there, waving a hand toward the fifty different fragrances sold in the shop. "Are these the only scents you have?" She looked to be in her late forties, with reddish hair that showed streaks of gray. Her too-small yellow blouse gaped at the buttons. A silver choker encircled her fleshy neck.

Sorina turned a professional smile on her. "My sister here makes them, and yes, those are all we carry. I'm sure if there's something specific you have in mind, she could create it for you."

The customer frowned, as if actually disappointed they were willing to accommodate her. "I don't know…" Her gaze swept over Ravyn. "She
makes
them?"

"Yes. And the jewelry, too."

"It's all a bit pricey for costume jewelry," the candle-sniffer remarked. "Or at least it looks like costume jewelry."

Ravyn tensed with irritation but didn't respond.

Sorina's mouth twisted down in a frown. "Oh, no. It's authentic. The jewels are real. My sister is a professional. She takes a great deal of pride in her work."

The two spoke as if Ravyn weren't standing there—which was just fine with her. Sorina handled the customer-service aspect of Gifts from the Heart, and Ravyn was the artist. Her people skills just weren't on the same level as her sister's. It was an irrefutable truth.

Ravyn glanced at the other customer, the man, and caught him staring at her. He was sort of scruffy, as she'd first thought, but not in a vagrant way. He was clean, just unkempt; his face showed a few days' growth of dark beard. Even from this distance, she could discern that his eyes were a startling blue, the mixture of shades like a cloudless sky at twilight.

His gaze locked on hers, and the conversation between Sorina and the woman faded into the background. Ravyn sensed a great sadness. Sadness and guilt. Although she didn't know the man's story, didn't know a thing about him, she felt a sudden kinship. She and this stranger were two souls searching for redemption. They were two wounded—

Her heartbeat accelerated, and her breath squeezed in her throat. She broke the stare, forcing her attention back to Sorina and the woman. What had just happened? She normally didn't get vibes so strong from simply looking at someone. What had caused the connection? She didn't know, and she didn't want to find out.

The woman broke eye contact first. Nick couldn't have. He
wouldn't
have. He hadn't wanted to. Something had sparked in him when he'd held her gaze. Something alive and real. Something that really mattered, for the first time in years.

Was this Ravyn Skyler, or was Ravyn the blonde speaking with the older woman? He'd gotten a vague description, and he believed the Skyler chick had dark hair. The blonde was a looker, though. She was definitely the killer's type. And with all the hair-coloring women did these days, either of the two could be the one Nick was looking for.

He couldn't take his eyes off the dark-haired woman, though. There was a sultry nonchalance in the way she moved, in the way she brushed a hank of hair back from her face. She wore black eyeliner that emphasized the green of her eyes. The wide, overlong sleeves of her silky blue shirt slid back on her forearms, revealing slender fingers laden with rings. Acid-washed jeans hugged long legs. Every move oozed pure sexual magnetism—like, Nick imagined, the magnetism of those sirens of myth who lured sailors to their doom.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

He hadn't even been aware she approached. Words froze inside him. He sucked in a breath and struggled for the ability to speak.

"Sir? Are you okay?" she asked in a voice that was a smoky blend of softness and sandpaper.

"Sorry. Yes. Just a little lightheaded for a second." Nick looked at the candle he held in his hand. How had that gotten there? He lifted it toward her. "Do you have this fragrance in the eighteen-ounce size?"

She stared at him for a moment. Not a friendly look. "I'll check."

As she turned and disappeared through a gauzy white curtain behind the counter, he suddenly wished he'd asked the blonde for the candle; he didn't want to let this beautiful creature out of his sight. He still didn't know if she was Ravyn Skyler, but he thought she was. He
hoped
she was. Then he'd have an excuse to be around her more.

God. What was wrong with him? He hadn't been attracted to a woman since Annie. Damn sure not like this! He wished he hadn't had those drinks this morning. Could she smell it on him? He reached into his shirt pocket, searching for a breath mint but coming up empty. Damn.

She returned quickly, but to him it seemed like hours. "I'm sorry. We don't have the eighteen-ounce size in Lavender Dream right now. I'll make some more later in the week, if you want to come back."

Lavender Dream? How manly. No wonder she'd given him an odd look.

He nodded. "I'll be back. Later in the week."

She returned his nod but didn't speak. Her eyes seemed veiled, as if they held deep secrets. Nick wanted nothing but to unlock those. And not just whatever information she had about the Tin Man. He wanted to know everything about her. Hell, he just wanted to keep listening to her voice. Wanted to watch her face as she spoke. Inhale her fragrance. She smelled faintly like the smoky outdoors, like a campfire in the winter. She was warm yet cool. She was utterly fascinating.

He blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a trance. Guilt slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave. In the five years since Annie's death he'd barely looked at another woman, and now he was lusting after a complete stranger? Muttering something in the way of a thank-you, he turned and groped for the front door. He stumbled outside of the shop, not able to breathe freely until he was standing in the fresh air.

That was when it occurred to him:
Ace job on the
detective
work, Lassiter. You're still not even sure if she was the one you came for
.

Nick drove slowly along the country road, his Mustang's headlights cutting through the layer of fog that had risen up around him. Gravel pinged the undercarriage of the car, sounding in the stillness of the evening like small-caliber bullets.

A teenage girl at a gas station in town had willingly given him directions to the cabin where the Tin Man had attacked Ravyn Skyler. Her wide brown eyes sparkling with excitement, the girl had all but offered to drive him. Apparently, a serial killer was exciting news in this area. There was nothing like the media to stir up interest.

He passed a field, was barely able to make out the silhouettes of cows meandering across the grass. Set back from the road was an old farmhouse that looked like something out of
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
. Nick took a curve in the road, and as the teen had promised, a turnoff just past the bend led to the cabin.

The word
cabin
was actually generous; the building was more like a dilapidated shack. The logs were blackened in some places, faded in others. Huge chunks had rotted from the outer walls, and bullet holes indicated hunters used the structure for target practice. From the police reports Nick obtained, he'd learned that the killer had only enjoyed a short time here—at least, he'd only had a short time here with Ravyn. He'd only had time for his preliminary work: burning her with his knife.

Nick thought again about the woman he'd seen in the shop. He'd since discovered—by crack detective work, which consisted of asking the woman who ran the cafe next door—that the dark-haired woman was indeed Ravyn Skyler. His reaction to her still baffled him. Nick chalked it up to too much booze and too long without a woman. It was a normal male reaction to long legs and fuck-me eyes. He definitely had to tread lightly there.