“As I said, I’ve nothing in common with my peers. And I can assure you, I’m not here for your son’s cock. Legendary, or not.”
“Good. You should be safe to introduce to Roark, then.”
“Roark?”
“My grandson.”
“Oh, I was … under the impression you only had one grandson.”
“I do only have one grandson. That’s all Lucian and Amelia gifted me, but I count my blessings for him every day.”
A cold chill winds down my spine as I stare back at her, and I school my face over my confusion. Unless rumors have it all wrong, she’s talking about her missing grandson. Did they find him? I don’t even know how to ask her this question.
“Roark! Roark! Come here please, I’ve someone to introduce to you!” She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she calls out for him, smiling in such a way that makes me roll my shoulders back to ward off the sudden discomfort. “Roark! Nonna is calling for you!”
“Perhaps he’s asleep?”
“It’s the dolls. They’ve always frightened him, ever since he was a baby.” Shooting up out of her chair, she knocks over the pot, spilling her expensive tea all over the carpet. “Roark Lucian Blackthorne, you come here now, or I’ll have Anna spank your behind!”
I kneel down to the carpet, grabbing one of the napkins from the tray to daub the tea, while I tease out the possibility that she might not be mentally sound. “It’s okay, if he doesn’t want to meet me. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
“He’s a child. He doesn’t know what discomfort is. No child understands the burdens we adults carry.” She swings around toward the door wall behind her. “I’ll bet he’s playing on the balcony again. Amelia must be sleeping.”
Amelia. From what I’ve heard, Amelia is dead. Is it possible that rumor was wrong, as well?
As she tromps toward the door, I recall Rand mentioning something on the phone earlier, about someone leaving the door unlocked and placing Mrs. Blackthorne at grave risk. I jump to my feet and step in front of her, immediately regretting my decision when she frowns back at me. The last thing I need, though, is to have this lady leap from the balcony to her death on my first day here.
“Wait, let me look for him. I love surprises.”
After a dubious side-eye glance, she rolls her shoulders back. “Roark enjoys them, as well. All right, I’ll let you surprise him.”
With a nod, I twist toward the door wall, and the moment I step out onto the balcony, I exhale a breath, closing the door behind me. Mentally unstable isn’t something new for me. Hell, my mom was a meth addict, for Christ’s sake. Crazy was a way of life growing up, and I learned early on not to trust everything that flies out of an adult’s mouth. I once found her sitting outside completely topless, telling passersby that the sky was being sucked into the sun.
I know crazy when I see it.
But I have to admit, hearing Mrs. Blackthorne call out for her dead daughter-in-law and missing grandson was about as confusing as getting knocked in the head by an acorn in the middle of the desert.
Resting my head against the wall, I mentally tell myself this isn’t a mistake. In spite of the fact that I wasn’t aware the woman had some mental issues, this isn’t a mistake.
“Hey.”
A gasp flies past my lips, and I leap to the side, away from the direction of the voice.
A woman, only slightly older than me, I think, sits bent forward smoking a cigarette that dangles from her long, slender fingers. Decked out in navy blue scrubs, she must be the nurse. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump. When you didn’t look over at me, I figured one way, or another, you were going to be startled.”
“It’s okay. I’m just a little edgy right now, is all. First day.”
“Yeah. My first day sucked. Heard her yelling, but she always yells, so …” Her cheeks cave as she sucks in a drag of her smoke.
“She was calling for her grandson. Roark?”
Snorting, the woman shakes her head. “Roark’s been gone for five years. Amelia, too, in case she tries to get you to fetch her next.” Reaching around her cigarette, she extends a hand toward me. “I’m Nell. Anella, but just call me Nell.”
“Isadora, but just call me Isa. Hey, is she always ...”
“Out of it? Yeah. Dementia with Lewy Bodies to be specific. Similar to what folks with Parkinsons suffer from. Doc’s trying to get her meds right.”
“She seemed fine up until she started talking about Roark.”
“Unnerving, isn’t it? One minute, she’s prattling on about current world events, the next she’s playing hide and seek with her dead grandson.”
“He’s … dead? For sure?”
“Depends on who you ask. After five years? Yeah, it’s a safe bet he’s dead.” Taking in another drag, she leans back on the chair and blows the smoke away from me. “The nightmares are always a good time, too. Sometimes have to strap her down.” With a sigh, she stamps her cigarette out into an ashtray filled with used butts. “I should probably get her settled back into bed. She have her tea yet?”
“Yeah. Not much, after spilling it onto the floor. Broke the teapot.”
The girl flinches as she pushes to her feet. “That teapot, along with the tea, is worth more than I make in a month.”
“No kidding. I just got an education in tea.”
Her eyes dip to my outfit and back. “You’re young.”
“Nineteen. Just graduated last year.”
“Two weeks. That’s if you keep to yourself.”
Frowning, I mentally tease the meaning of her words. “What’s two weeks?”
“How long you’ll last. That’s giving you some credit, too. Girl before you lasted a week. One before her? Three whole days. You met Lucian yet?”
Why does everyone ask me that after scoping my outfit?
“No. Why do you ask?”
“You think his mom’s a whackjob? Wait ‘til you meet the Devil of Bonesalt, himself.” She steps past me, knocking me in the shoulder on her way to the door. “Whole damn place is one big asylum.”
“I didn’t say his mom was a whack--” The door slams shut before I can finish. “Job.”
Staring out over the yard, I can make out the edge of the bluff and the endless sea beyond it. Miles of isolation.
On one hand, I appreciate the peace and quiet.
On the other, I hope I didn’t make a mistake in taking this job.
Chapter 5
Lucian
Sixteen years ago …
With a thin twig, I draw my initials in the sandy bed of the cave while I wait for Jude to arrive. Heat from the small fire I’ve lit keeps the evening chill away, but my mind twists with what will happen when my father returns from his business trip. The fire extinguishers weren’t the smartest idea, but fuck, being trapped in this hellhole for months is prison. I’m losing my mind in this place, day in and day out. The only reprieves are the few times like these, when I steal away without anyone knowing.
Rushing of water at the mouth of the cave is the first taunt of the rising tide. In just a few hours, this place will be half full of sea water, and the pull of the tide will sweep whatever’s in here beneath the surface and out to sea. For that reason, locals call it Pirates Cove.