Fatal Vows

Chapter 5

My breath comes in shaky gasps, unable to tear my eyes from the blood trailing into the water, images of my father's pallid face trekking across my vision again. I force myself to stay standing, ignoring my wobbling knees longing to collapse on the sand.

I hear faint footsteps and turn to see Daylon frozen, paling at the sight, water still dripping from his chest. 

"Oh, god," he breathes.  He stumbles as he turns around and runs for help.

I can't move, I'm glued in place, the woman's single word still haunting my skull.

You.

Daylon comes back with two men I don't recognize.  The blood drains from their faces at the sight of the body.

"Jasmine," a man whispers.  He shakes his head in disbelief, then anger.  I flinch as he glowers at me.

"What did you do to her," he whispers.  "What did you do!"  He shoves me as he screeches the words.  Daylon puts himself between me and the man.

"Hey, calm down, she didn't do anything," he says sternly.  The man fumes.

"Then who did?" he yells.  The other man drags him back a little, giving Daylon some space with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry, I..." Daylon struggles, "I don't know."

Turning around, away from the small group, I notice small divots in the sand, trailing away from the corpse.  Smaller holes top one large one in each track, forming the unmistakable human footprint.

Still shaky, I step alongside the tracks, following them to the grass where they disappear in the verdant stalks.  Nearly invisible gaps in the plain angle to the left, leading to the forest beside the hotel.

The second man talks to his upset friend, murmuring words of encouragement floating along the ocean breeze.  Daylon turns to me, pain in his eyes. 

"Let's get you inside," he says softly, jerking his head toward the hotel.  I nod, facing the footprints again before following him across the sand, steering clear of the body slumped on the beach.  Ryder stands from where he was laying in the sand and rushes to me.

"Elena," he says quietly.  Daylon gives him a look.  Ryder purses his lips and joins us in silence.

"I can grab our stuff," Ryder mutters, starting to move across the shore.

"No, I got it, I brought it out here," I say, taking in an unsteady breath.

"Elena," Daylon starts, drawing his brows together, "you can barely walk-"

I scoff at him midsentence.  "I can walk just fine, thank you very much," I respond, swallowing any remaining tremors in my throat, hoping he won't see through me because, in reality, I'm terrified and would do anything to wrap my arms around him again.

He simply raises an eyebrow with a smirk before I take hesitant steps toward my bag.

I beat the loose sand from my towel, wrapping it under my arms and securing it with wobbling fingers.  Squatting to collect my things, I see a hint of red plastic peeking through nearby grass blades in the afternoon sun.  Placing a bottle of sunscreen in the bag, I stretch a hand toward it and wrap my fingers around a chapstick cap.

I bring it to my face and take a whiff, artificial cherry scent filling my nose.  I scour the land surrounding where it fell to and don't see a container of any kind it could have come from.