Voodoo Kiss by Jayde Scott Read Free Book Online

held a glass of water to my lips and I took greedy gulps. The cool liquid soothed the scratchy sensation at the back of my throat. "You passed out from the heat."
    I shook my head. "Something else must've happened. I remember the fortune teller starting her chatter, and then there was blackness." I shivered as I let my memories invade my mind. That was one scary place I never wanted to visit again.
    "Trust me, it was the heat." Gael set his jaw, signaling the conversation was over. The black flame in his eyes flickered again. I finished my water and put the glass back on the bedside table.
    "What did the fortune teller say?" I asked.
    "What?"
    I turned to face him. "She spoke for hours. I want to know what she said."
    "Don't be ridiculous. When you passed out, we wrapped you in damp towels and I drove you home. You've been sleeping since the early afternoon." I peered at him. Somehow I knew he was lying, which didn't make sense. Why would he avoid telling the truth? Unless the woman had said something bad and he didn't want to upset me. I grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze, wondering why his skin felt cold as ice in spite of the smoldering heat outside.
    "What did she say?" I persisted.
    Ignoring my question, Gael got up and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Why don't you take a shower while I get us dinner? I won't be long, and don't take off the scarf."
    I stared after him, perplexed. Something wasn't right. I could tell from the way he treated me. He had never been this brisk before. Gael wasn't the most open and talkative person, but he had never been this secretive, brushing me off for no apparent reason. Did I say or do anything wrong?
    Eventually I got up and stripped off my clothes, leaving the scarf wrapped around my wrist, then jumped under the shower. I slumped against the cold tiles, letting the hot water trickling down every part of my aching body before I went about checking my arms for any bruises where I thought fingers had pressed into my skin. There were none.
    I turned off the water tap and stepped out, wrapping a large towel around me. The mirror had misted over with steam. I swiped my hand across its smooth surface and regarded myself. My large blues eyes were hooded, as though I hadn't slept in ages. My hair hung in thick wet strands. And then, for a split second, I heard something: a scratching noise, like nails on a chalkboard, but so low I wasn't sure it had been there at all. I checked the door, which was closed, then went back to the mirror, figuring I was imagining things again. When I picked up my brush to comb my hair, I could see in the reflection of the mirror that the window had misted over as though someone had breathed on it from the outside. A tiny drawing appeared. I turned my head sharply, noticing small lines on the glass. Frowning, I inched closer to read the word: PLEH. Someone staying here before me must've been dissatisfied with his vacation and written it. I couldn't agree more. Ignoring it, I turned back to the mirror to pull my hair into a messy ponytail, when the writing caught my eye again. In the mirror, PLEH spelt backwards: HELP.
    My breathing accelerated, my heart racing in my chest a million miles an hour. The room was situated on the second floor with no balcony and no back garden. Someone must be playing a prank on me. Even though the voice at the back of my mind screamed to stay away, I removed the hatch and pushed the window wide open, leaning over the sill as much as I could. The space below was so tiny, one couldn't hide a flowerpot let alone an adult. Besides, a stonewall reached from the ground almost as high as the first floor. Unless someone had a pair of wings and could fly over it, I doubted they could climb over, breathe against the window and then dissipate into thin air a moment later.
    I closed the window again. The writing was still there and for the first time I noticed the lines looking messy, like those of a child. The letter P