Chapter 1
Crescent Point
Shadows
shifted in dark corners along the deserted boardwalk. These black shores, once
my home and a place of fear for me as a child, hadn’t lost their strangle-hold
on my imagination. Screams from the tragedy I witnessed here flashed through my
head even after all these years. Low fog swirled around my sneakers, and I
shivered with the wet chill of it. Hesitating for a moment, I hopped the
wrought iron gate that barred entrance to the carnival grounds and tore my palm
on the rusty spires as I dropped down. I barely noticed the pain as my gaze
passed over the abandoned rides and rotting wooden booths. The thumping beat in
the distance urged me forward.
I should face him before I come to
my senses. This is such a bad idea.
Faded
red striped popcorn bags and cotton candy cone handles skittered in the wind
and caught on the edges of turnstiles. A low squeak sounded, and I caught sight
of the Crescent Point Boardwalk sign
overhead. It dangled on rusty hinges and swayed with the unseen push of the
night breeze. Long ebony strands escaped the loose bun atop my head and floated
on the wind. I smoothed them with a shaking hand.
In
the distance, large arches of the rollercoaster and Ferris wheel loomed out of
the dark mist. I waited, straining to remember the sound of excited screams and
thumping wheels as the cart sped over warped tracks. The Titan had been a favorite of mine as a teen. I flashed on those
days when hysterical laughter tore from me as I sailed, arms raised, at
break-neck speed. Days when he was my whole world and nothing could stop us
from taking what we wanted.
Farther
into the carnival grounds, the milk bottle throw and balloon dart booths came
into view, their ripped canvas covers snapped in the wind. I walked slowly,
running a palm along the counter. It was pitted with carved names and cigarette
burns from generations of visitors. First dates, anniversaries, summer
celebrations all happened here.
A
steady beat thrummed through the wood beneath my hand and I squinted into the
night at the source. There, shrouded in mist, a familiar rectangular building
stood butted against a tree line I couldn’t see, but knew from memory. Once a
skating rink, the building now thumped with the rhythmic music of a night club.
The Black Adder.
I
swallowed against the lump at my throat and stood staring at the lights flashing
from the building. My fingers found the scar at my elbow, a reminder of a hard
childhood, a poor one spent amid the plastic and painted gaiety of this place.
I stood still, debating. What if I saw him and everything had changed? Or
worse, what if nothing had?
Despite
my misgivings, I wasn’t turning back now. Not without answers. A soft flutter
overhead pulled my gaze to the sky. Nearly silent wings spread wide across the August
moon. An owl soared across my vision, its plaintive cry echoing along the empty
carnival road. Dry leaves crunched under foot as I made my way to the side of
the nightclub. The music, louder now, trilled through me like a current. Years
ago, I used to sneak into the rink with my sister, Sonja, via the basement
storeroom door. Feeling along the rough wood hatch, I found the handle and
jerked it, freeing it from the latch. It was open.
A
puff of machine-generated smoke floated out of the basement opening, lingered
next to me like a specter in the moonlight, and then was gone with a gust. I shivered, gripping
the rough handrail on my way down the steps. Overwhelming darkness engulfed me,
and I felt my way past rickety shelves and metal canisters to the opposite door,
going more on feel than sight.
I
pushed through and found myself in the hall. Doors with dark blue signs
depicting a silhouetted male on one and a female on the other flanked me. The
bathrooms. Up ahead, the entrance to the lounge let off a dark glow. Red lights
fell over me as I approached. My heart paced up.
It
wasn’t too late to turn and go. No one had seen me yet. Siyah hadn’t seen me
yet. Running a nervous hand through my curls, I wished for courage which
wouldn’t come.
“Just
go, you pansy,” I whispered. “He won’t bite.”
A
yellow rivulet of incense smoke curled through the bead curtain hanging in the
doorway and fluttered past my nose. Memories hit me with the force of an angry
rhino to the gut, erasing five years of absence from him in a moment. Hands
shaking, I parted a portion of the beads and walked through the gently clicking
cascade.
Red
light bathed the space like a darkroom, and I squinted to see. Couples clustered
in corners, on couches, and along the damask covered walls of the room. Persian
rugs, fine glass, and lush fabrics muffled the music from the dance club above.
Hot air oozed around me as I wandered the dark lounge. Small lamps lit circles
of floor here and there. They gave glimpses of people in hushed conversations
or mid-kiss. My heart raced, and I half hoped he wouldn’t be here.
“Raven?”
Siyah’s low voice hit me, and I froze. Turning, I saw him lounging in a
wingback chair in the corner. Lamplight etched out the angles of his muscled
arm and shoulder. He tilted his chin up, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing
here?”
My
gaze flitted to the couples in the room. Their whispered conversations went
uninterrupted. No one looked up, pointedly not noticing Siyah’s words. A
culture of secrecy, our Romany ways favored discretion above all else. But the
news of my being here would spread, especially because of how I’d left.
“Can
I talk to you, Siyah?” I took in a steadying breath. “I – It’s important.”
“It
must be or you would not have shown up here.” His eyes, the blue of the darkest
ocean, held me in their gaze. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just hiding
his surprise at my sudden return. “What brings you back to my island?”
The
feel of his arms, warm around me, flashed in my head, and I swallowed against
the lump in my throat. I leaned against the cool wall and balled my fists at my
sides. I’d thought I was strong enough to come here, but seeing Siyah again
threw me into doubt. My new faith wavered inside my heavy heart.
Please help me to do this, Lord.
“I
won’t be here long,” I said.
“You
look well.” His gaze danced along my body and back up to my face, a sad smile
pulling at his lips. “I guess the East Coast suits you after all.”
“Siyah…”
“I
seem to remember you saying you would never return. You said, if I remember
correctly, that ‘I would never lay eyes on you again.’” When I didn’t answer,
Siyah clicked his tongue and rose to his feet, his gaze lingering on me. He
wore charcoal slacks and a jet black crewneck sweater, so different from the
jeans and T-shirts when I knew him, and I wondered what else had changed.
“I
– I know what I said, but…” Reaching into my back pocket, I drew out a postcard
and handed it to him. From my sister, it was what had sent me back to this
island from across the country. “I’m worried about Sonja. There’s something
wrong.”
He
leaned away, took it, and then held me with his dark gaze. “Because she sent
you a card?”
“It’s
plain. It’s something you get in the village from a tourist shop.”
“Why
are you so worried?” He studied my face.
“I
know it doesn’t seem strange to you, but she’s my sister. She writes to me, or
did, every week. Pages of what goes on at her job, what the tourists are saying,
how my parents are doing. Three weeks ago, she wrote that she had something
important to tell me, that she was going to get away and call me from the
village. I never heard from her, and then I get this card with, ‘Please come
home, I need you,’ and nothing else.”
“And
your parents?”
“My
mother wrote that she was ill, that it was nothing and not to worry.” I
shrugged. “But I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”
“And
your father?”
“You
know—” My voice broke. “He hasn’t forgiven me. I’ve not heard his voice since I
left.”
Siyah
glanced back at the card and then leaned against the wall next to me. His gaze
wandered the room before finding mine. “I do not know how she is doing, Raven.
When you left, our families broke from one another. We don’t speak.”
Guilt
poked at my gut. I’d made such a mess and left others to deal with the fall
out. Nodding, I took the postcard from him. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m
sorry if you get back lash from my visit. I just thought that with your
connections…” I faltered for a moment, “that maybe you’d know what my parents
aren’t telling me.”
“There
is a lot of –,” he hesitated, like he used to do when choosing his words carefully,
“–unrest in the families. It’s probably nothing.”
Low
light held his square jaw in angled shadows. When we were together, a smile
from him would make my heart race, but it was the trouble in his gaze that made
me pause today. The years had given his eyes a depth not there before; a dark
burden. I wondered if he knew how striking he was. His easy laugh and
mischievous smile were gone. I knew my leaving here had hurt him, but there
seemed to be something more than discomfort at my sudden visit. I wish I could
ask what troubled him.
“I
shouldn’t have bothered you, Siyah.”
“It
was not a bother to see you, Raven,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you are well.”
Formal,
cordial, and achingly guarded. What did I expect? Running through a field of
flowers towards each other with violins playing in the background?
“I
better get going. My mother is sure to hear that I’m on Noble Island by now.
She’ll be hurt if don’t go see her right away.”
He
nodded and stood with his arms crossed, gaze on the couple by the door. His
quiet stillness unnerved me. So different from what I remembered. I noticed
that even conjunctions had snuck their way into his speech here and there. I
watched him quietly. When he spoke again, it was with an even tone.
“I’ll
see what I can find out.” Again, his tone was even, and when he looked back at
me, an unreadable mask had dropped over his gorgeous features.
“I’ll
be at the inn if you need to talk to me…I mean, about my sister. If you want to
talk to me about her, I mean.” I cringed. “Not that I’ll only speak to you if
it’s about that…” Why was I so nervous? I’d expected anger, but this was worse.
This tore my heart out. I knew how to fight with Siyah, how to love him. I
didn’t know how to be a polite stranger. I took in a breath, bit my tongue, and
let out a slow sigh. “I’m just going to go now.”
“I’ll
get word to you if I learn anything.”
“Thank
you.”
“It
was nice to see you after all this time, Raven.” A familiar warmth crossed his
features, but it was gone in an instant. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see if
there is talk of this.”
I
nodded and slipped away, my head pounding as I headed for the door. Passing the
furtive glances of familiar faces as I strode up the stairs towards the club, I
tried to keep from letting the whispers bring heat to my face. I burst through
to the night, and I breathed in the frigid air with greedy gulps, shaken.
“It’s
just that you hadn’t seen him in so long,” I said to the empty night. “That’s
all this is.”
I
left the carnival grounds and trudged along a path that took me through the
woods. High branches of the surrounding trees opened up, framing the moon and
casting the hovering fog in shifting shadows. Shivering, I thought I heard foot
falls in the leaves somewhere to my side and I stopped, listening. Nothing. I
quickened my pace; a sliver of worry needled its way into my consciousness. Old
ghost stories from my youth floated to mind reminding me of the darkness that
surrounded this place. A death here had closed the carnival more than seven
years ago. The child of a wealthy tourist, whose grisly plunge from the Ferris
wheel resulted in the boardwalk’s closing. The shocking tragedy gave birth to
legends of haunting and cursed ground. Some even swore to hearing a ghostly
scream on certain moonless nights.
I
shoved the thoughts away, determined not to let old memories and guilt cloud my
judgment. Still, more movement, a scraping close by came from the depths of the
surrounding forest, and I froze. Out of the corner of my eye, a form slipped
behind a large trunk obscured by the misty dark.
“I – Is anybody there?” I struggled to find my
voice. “E cineva acolo?”
Sudden
stillness sent my heart pounding. A flash of white flitted past. A screech echoed
through the trees, and I gasped. The owl clicked and banked away; on the hunt
like a specter in the sky.
I
stood trying to control my breath. The postcard from Sonja cut into my fingers,
and I looked at it in the moonlight. My sister’s strange lack of communication
and the troubled look in Siyah’s gaze told me that despite what my mother had
told me, more than one thing was wrong here on Noble Island. I could feel it in
my bones.
When I was younger, maybe high school, I discovered detective novels. Not modern ones. The old-school, hardboiled detective thrillers like Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and Agatha Christie -- crime fiction fraught with drama. I was immediately addicted.
