The Charm Stone Read Online Free

managed to forget about the stupid trunk and the three-foot-tall hallucination that accompanied it, until she went outside to get her mail. She brushed along the passenger side of the Jeep on her way back in and found herself pausing by the seat where the trunk lay tucked underneath
    “Well, hell.” She tossed her mail on the seat and dragged the thing out and unwrapped it, knowing she wouldn't stop thinking about it now. It looked even worse in the midday sun. She carried it up to her porch and looked it over as she finished her tuna sandwich, then continued to stare at it-without touching it-as she downed the rest of her iced tea. “Okay, now you're being silly,” she told herself. It was just a harmless old trunk. She was alone for God's sake, safe in her house. Not a midget in sight.
    And she really wanted to see the necklace again. She was too intrigued by it not to peek a second time. She tugged the lid up, wiped her hands off, then lifted the chain out and laid it on the corner of the towel. It was still impressive, if not aesthetically beautiful. Just how old was this thing?
    Seventeen-oh-two.
A little riff of unease swept along the back of her neck as she recalled what Bagan had told her about the last time the stone had been above water. And it was older than that even, if he'd been telling the truth. “Which of course he couldn't possibly be, because Bagan doesn't really exist.” Saying it out loud did little to make her feel better.
    She lifted the necklace and studied the stone. She moved over to the shell-framed mirror hanging on the wall next to the door and held the chain up to her chest. Her yellow T-shirt made the stone look even more off-color, but she liked the heft of it in her hands.
Put it back in the box, Josie.
She toyedwith the links. It wouldn't hurt anything to see what it looked like on, right?
    She wondered about the other women who had worn it as she slipped the heavy chain over her short, messy curls and beat-up face. “One thing's for certain,” she told her reflection, “they had to look a lot better wearing it than you do.”
    “Yer garb might be’ a wee bit strange and yer hair hacked about the head a bit, but ye look comely enough I suppose.”
    Josie's heart dropped straight to her toes.
It couldn't be.
She'd locked the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she could feel him. Could a person have periodic hallucinations? She slowly turned around. “Oh no.”
    “I believe me feelings are hurt.” Bagan sat on the short ledge that separated the lower half wall from the screened upper half of the porch. He was perched amidst the shells and the driftwood, his stubby legs dangling several feet off the floor.
    “Okay, that does it. This is private property, you just can't come barging in here—”
    Bagan merely smiled, blue eyes damnably twinkling. “I canna barge anywhere, lass. I'm rather too small for that.”
    “You're trespassing. I'm calling the police.” She held up her hand when he went to speak. “And no more of this destiny crap. My destiny is to do the only two things I'm good at. Surf and draw. And I'm perfectly happy to do both right up until the day I die.”
    Die. Probably not a good word to use when the person stalking you was sitting right in front of you. So what if he'd need a booster seat at McDonald's?
    “No marrying some Scottish laird,” she went on adamantly. “No bearing some strange man's children. And no being stalked by—” She waved herhand at him, frustrated. “Whatever you are.”
Slow down, stay calm.
She drew in a deep breath. “Now, we can avoid any unpleasantness if you'll just get down from there and see yourself out.”
    Completely unmoved by her edict, Bagan sniffed at the air instead. “I do believe I smell something burning.”
    “Don't change the sub- Oh, no.” Josie smelled it then, too. Dammit, she'd forgotten all about the soup she'd put on to have with her sandwich. She pointed a finger at him. “I'm going in to turn my