1
“Blood stones.”
“Excuse me?” I looked up from the heap of jewelry, laid out the rickety folding table. It sparkled like plastic diamonds under the hot Tampa sun.
“Blood stones,” the old woman who stood behind the table said again. She nodded at the necklace I’d been examining. It stood out in the glittering, tawdry jumble, maybe because it didn’t glitter—at least, the necklace itself didn’t. The fine-linked chain was made of some matte black metal I had never seen before. Hanging from it was an unusual pendant—a single key made from the same black metal and studded with four tiny crimson stones. The key was about an inch long and felt unusually heavy in my hand.
“You mean these?” I pointed to the stones set in the head of the key. “I thought they were garnets.” There’s no way they could be rubies. Nothing that valuable would turn up at a flea market on the bad side of town. At least, I assumed this was the bad side of town. I’d only been in Tampa a few hours but so far I wasn’t impressed.
“They’re rare.” The old woman nodded solemnly, as though imparting a piece of secret wisdom. “A piece like this…it’s not for just anyone.”
“Riiiight,” I said skeptically. I could tell what the old woman was trying to do—she wanted to make the necklace seem special, unique. Doubtless so she could charge more for it.
I was tempted to put it down and walk away. The flea market was crowded and loud and the heat from the Florida sun was oppressive—like wearing a fur coat I couldn’t take off. The long-sleeved Henley shirt I had on wasn’t helping but changing clothes wasn’t an option. All these minor aggravations added up and I was in no mood to be hustled, especially by a saleswoman who looked like one of the three weird sisters from Macbeth.
But somehow I couldn’t let the necklace go.
“Try it on,” the old woman urged, leaning forward. “You’ll know if it’s right when you try it.” She had straggly gray hair and a hooked nose with a wart on one side. Seriously, all she needed was a broomstick and a black cat to complete the image.
“I don’t know…” I said. But already my hands were slipping the black chain over my head, moving independently of my reluctant thoughts.
The necklace settled naturally around my neck and the key slipped into the open collar of my shirt and came to rest just above my breasts, almost as though it was coming home. Despite the fact that it had been lying out in the bright, hot sunlight, the metal felt strangely cool against my skin—almost cold in fact.
“Looks good.” The old woman nodded approvingly. “The blood stones are almost the color of your hair.”
“Not really. It just looks that way because of the light.” I put a hand to my long, wavy hair self-consciously. It’s auburn-brown but it looks wine-red in the sun—not that I got out to admire the effect very often. With my pale complexion, I exploded into freckles if I spent too much time in direct sunlight so I pretty much avoided it like the plague. It had never been too much of a problem in Seattle, where I grew up. But after just a few hours in the intense Florida heat, I was beginning to think it was time to invest in some serious sun block.
“It looks good on you,” the old woman insisted, nodding at the necklace. “You should buy it.”
“That’s really nice of you to say but I don’t have much money on me.” I tried to sound regretful but honestly, I just wanted to get away. The old woman was giving me the creeps and the sun seemed to have gotten even hotter in the last few minutes. It pounded against my skull like a golden hammer, making me feel vaguely nauseous.
I hate being hot.
“I need to go find my aunt,” I gave as an excuse, as I pulled the necklace over my head to return it. Or tried to anyway.
Because the necklace wouldn’t come off.
I tried again. Hadn’t it slipped over my head with the greatest of ease just a moment before? The chain had been long enough that the key pendant settled almost between my breasts. But now it didn’t seem long enough to come off and the key was higher—nestled in the hollow of my throat.
“It likes you.” The old witch eyed me with bird-like interest as I fumbled with the necklace. “A lot, it seems.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I slid the fine-linked chain through my fingers, feeling for a clasp of some kind. There wasn’t one. “It’s just a necklace.”
“With blood stones in it. Very rare. Very precious.” She leaned forward, eyeing my neck in a disturbing way. “And it’s not the necklace—it’s the key, dearie. It’s the key.”