Read Online The Alchemical Detective (Riga Hayworth) by Kirsten Weiss - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kirsten Weiss
Ads: Link
wasn’t sure when she’d have time for it, but she wanted to stay in touch with these three. They’d known Sarah well. Riga wondered whether they knew too much.
Chapter 9: Dissolution
The sun warmed Riga’s back. She lay face down upon the floating pier, gazing dreamily over the side. Moss-covered stones lay below, visible through the blue-green water, and minnows darted past. A cool breeze sighed through the pines, and her reflection shivered, fracturing then reforming as the water calmed.
Her reflection changed and a young, Asian woman smiled serenely up at her. Riga shifted on her stomach, bringing her hand to hover above the water and the reflection’s hand rose to meet hers. The stranger’s face moved closer, rising towards Riga, through the water. It distorted, grew sallow, the eyes cloudy. The head broke the surface, rank and rotting. It bobbed in the water, staring, lips curled in a snarl, then rolled, and settled face down. Long black hair fanned out upon the water.
Riga reared backward, her stomach rolling. Tentacles wrapped around her wrists, dragging her toward the water. She was so close now. There was a word that would free her, if she could only remember it, but the magic was out of her reach. The bones in her wrist snapped and she shuddered from the shock of pain. The rough edge of the dock scraped off a thick strip of her flesh. The word, God, what was it?
Awake .
Riga woke to darkness, her heart pounding. For a moment she forgot where she was, then the even breathing beside her anchored her. Donovan. She was in his room. Riga wanted to curl up against him, but instead slid quietly from the bed. She hooked a soft cotton robe from the end of the bed and slipped her arms inside, then slunk out the bedroom door.
The woman in her dream was unfamiliar but she knew that place, that pier. Donovan kept maps in the study and Riga padded there now, feet bare on the cool wooden floor, thinking hard.
It had been years ago. A warm summer, a cabin on the beach, the icy sapphire lake. The cabin belonged to friends of her parents. She and her sister’s family had lain upon the beach, north of Cave Rock, a young Pen shoveling rocks and sand into a bucket, the high sierra sun darkening their skin.
Riga flipped the study light on and strode to the desk. Her leather satchel lay beside it, gaping open, papers protruding from it. She pulled a crude tourist map from her bag then found a Tahoe street map in the desk drawer. She spread them both upon the desk. The tourist map had Tessie sightings marked upon it in red ink. X marks the spot.
The summer cabin was just north of Cave Rock, also the scene of a recent Tessie sighting.
Dammit. There was another body.
“Aunt Riga?”
Riga started, spun around, a hand over her heart. Pen stood in the doorway, looking young and rumpled in black cotton pajama bottoms and a white tank. Riga squinted to read it: Dear Karma, I have a list of people you’ve missed.
“Pen. You scared the hell out of me.”
Her niece yawned. “What are you doing?”
“Homework.” She folded the map. “One of the Tessie sightings last month was near a cabin we used to vacation in. Do you remember it?”
Pen wandered into the room and folded herself upon a leather settee. “Sure. There was no TV. It was really boring.”
Pen was right. Beautiful scenery, but Riga had been bored too. She’d never been one for sunbathing. “So how do you like the film crew?” Riga jammed the maps into her satchel.
“They’re fantastic!” Pen’s gray eyes glittered with excitement. “Wolfe’s been showing me all sorts of cool lighting techniques. He’s amazing.” Her cheeks flushed. “Did you know he worked on a series in Vancouver? That’s where the action is now. Hollywood is so over.”
“Wolfe?”
“You know, the cameraman? The one with the sideburns, not the
Chapter 9: Dissolution
The sun warmed Riga’s back. She lay face down upon the floating pier, gazing dreamily over the side. Moss-covered stones lay below, visible through the blue-green water, and minnows darted past. A cool breeze sighed through the pines, and her reflection shivered, fracturing then reforming as the water calmed.
Her reflection changed and a young, Asian woman smiled serenely up at her. Riga shifted on her stomach, bringing her hand to hover above the water and the reflection’s hand rose to meet hers. The stranger’s face moved closer, rising towards Riga, through the water. It distorted, grew sallow, the eyes cloudy. The head broke the surface, rank and rotting. It bobbed in the water, staring, lips curled in a snarl, then rolled, and settled face down. Long black hair fanned out upon the water.
Riga reared backward, her stomach rolling. Tentacles wrapped around her wrists, dragging her toward the water. She was so close now. There was a word that would free her, if she could only remember it, but the magic was out of her reach. The bones in her wrist snapped and she shuddered from the shock of pain. The rough edge of the dock scraped off a thick strip of her flesh. The word, God, what was it?
Awake .
Riga woke to darkness, her heart pounding. For a moment she forgot where she was, then the even breathing beside her anchored her. Donovan. She was in his room. Riga wanted to curl up against him, but instead slid quietly from the bed. She hooked a soft cotton robe from the end of the bed and slipped her arms inside, then slunk out the bedroom door.
The woman in her dream was unfamiliar but she knew that place, that pier. Donovan kept maps in the study and Riga padded there now, feet bare on the cool wooden floor, thinking hard.
It had been years ago. A warm summer, a cabin on the beach, the icy sapphire lake. The cabin belonged to friends of her parents. She and her sister’s family had lain upon the beach, north of Cave Rock, a young Pen shoveling rocks and sand into a bucket, the high sierra sun darkening their skin.
Riga flipped the study light on and strode to the desk. Her leather satchel lay beside it, gaping open, papers protruding from it. She pulled a crude tourist map from her bag then found a Tahoe street map in the desk drawer. She spread them both upon the desk. The tourist map had Tessie sightings marked upon it in red ink. X marks the spot.
The summer cabin was just north of Cave Rock, also the scene of a recent Tessie sighting.
Dammit. There was another body.
“Aunt Riga?”
Riga started, spun around, a hand over her heart. Pen stood in the doorway, looking young and rumpled in black cotton pajama bottoms and a white tank. Riga squinted to read it: Dear Karma, I have a list of people you’ve missed.
“Pen. You scared the hell out of me.”
Her niece yawned. “What are you doing?”
“Homework.” She folded the map. “One of the Tessie sightings last month was near a cabin we used to vacation in. Do you remember it?”
Pen wandered into the room and folded herself upon a leather settee. “Sure. There was no TV. It was really boring.”
Pen was right. Beautiful scenery, but Riga had been bored too. She’d never been one for sunbathing. “So how do you like the film crew?” Riga jammed the maps into her satchel.
“They’re fantastic!” Pen’s gray eyes glittered with excitement. “Wolfe’s been showing me all sorts of cool lighting techniques. He’s amazing.” Her cheeks flushed. “Did you know he worked on a series in Vancouver? That’s where the action is now. Hollywood is so over.”
“Wolfe?”
“You know, the cameraman? The one with the sideburns, not the
Similar Books
