Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(2)
The car was an older model Subaru wagon. Had she known that? The back end popped open to reveal a canvas cover over the cargo area. She unlatched it and studied stacks of unmarked boxes in dismay. She didn’t know whether to hope or fear that they were stuffed with cash. Pulling out the first one, she realized it wasn’t even taped. Opening the flap revealed a disorderly collection of books—mostly college texts and nothing useful.
She opened a healthy-sized volume on botany, and in the halogen glare of the parking lot light, read Samantha Moon and a phone number.
Before she could flip open the others, an ethereal figure emerged from the dark mist into the lamplight. Wearing what appeared to be a Smoky Bear hat—how could she recall that image?—a checked flannel shirt, jeans, and run-down suede boots topped with grubby faux fur, the figure appeared androgynous but not dangerous.
“A bit early for the diner,” the stranger said in a feminine voice. “But I’ve got keys. Looking for coffee?”
“I would kill for coffee,” she said, then wondered if she might have killed someone. How would she know? She had been hoping someone here could tell her if she had parents, a significant other. . . kids? She didn’t think she had kids, but she didn’t know why.
“Long drive, huh? I’m Mariah.” The stranger approached from across the lot. “I open up for Dinah most days because I’d kill for coffee too.”
How did she respond? The polite thing to do was give a name, but all she had was the one in the textbook. “I’m Sam.” That felt right enough to continue. “I’ve been driving all night. Then my GPS died, and now I’m lost. I figured I’d feed Emma first.”
One of the boxes contained pet supplies, she discovered in relief. She popped open a can, retrieved a water bottle and bowl, and opened the back door. The cat was an over-large, well-furred marmalade.
Mariah peered in the backseat. “You have Emma? I’ve been wondering where she’d got to. You saw Cass then?”
How did she respond to that? Admit she had no memory? The first thing a normal person would do was call the police or a doctor, but what if she was a criminal? Who was Cass and why would she give her a cat?
“Last night,” was all she—Sam—could think to say. She set the food and water on the floor, then let the cat out. Apparently there was already a litter box behind the passenger seat. Someone had thought of everything. It hadn’t been her.
“Now you’re really interesting me,” Mariah said as Sam shut and locked the car door. “And just as a side note, cell phones don’t work here either. The Nulls will tell you that it’s because we’re a valley surrounded by mountains with no cell tower, and the population is too thin to justify satellites.” She led the way across the parking lot to a long, low building with big plate glass windows.
“Nulls?”
Mariah plugged a key into a bolt. “Techies, geeks, the unevolved.” She flipped a switch inside the door, illuminating a small café with a long counter and half a dozen booths.
It was good to see clearly again. Sam studied the chipped Formica tables and counter, the red cracked vinyl stools, and wondered if she’d traveled back in time.
At least she had a sense of time, that had to be good, right?
Over the counter she caught glimpses of a mural painted between cabinets and behind machinery depicting this same diner in an earlier era—if the clothing on the people was any indication. She studied the faces, hoping to recognize them, but that was foolish. She hadn’t been born at a time when women wore leather vests over lacy maxi dresses and tied their long hair back in beaded headbands. For whatever reason, the mural made her feel vaguely uneasy. The painting was faded and covered with decades of grease, as blurred as if concealed by fog.
Mariah set to filling coffee pots with the ease of experience. “Have a seat. The machinery is slow but the coffee is good.”
“And there is another theory about the lack of cell phone signals?” Sam had picked up on the nuance, so she wasn’t exactly stupid, always good to know. Could she hope that textbooks meant she was educated?
“You don’t know about Hillvale?” With the coffee perking, Mariah flung her hat under the counter. The gesture let down lustrous black hair that she expertly braided as she talked. Sam admired her high cheekbones and brown coloring—and glanced at her own hand to verify she was a pathetic white.
Afraid to admit that she didn’t even know her own name, Sam shook her head. “I was just given an address on Cemetery Road and told to head north. The town welcome sign was a little spooky on top of that address.”
Mariah laughed and took down two plain white mugs. “Since you have her cat, Cassandra must have sent you. She’s the only one who lives out by the cemetery.”
“You know her?” Sam asked, partially in relief and partially in distraction since she had utterly no clue who had sent her.
“Cassandra is a fixture around here. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you the Hillvale story. She knows it better than anyone. But last I looked, she wasn’t home, so I’ll give you a short synopsis. Cream? Sugar?”
Sam didn’t know. “Both,” she decided, figuring she could try it black, then add what seemed best. So, she knew what went into coffee but didn’t know what she put into it. Interesting. “Synopsis, please.” She hid her dismay that the only person on Cemetery Road wasn’t home. Worse yet, this Cass had apparently given her a cat, which indicated she might not be going home anytime soon.