Rose Quartz: Amulet

By Sandra Cox

Isabella Tremaine's credo: Always look your best even when you're running from the bad guys.

Bella is the possessor of an ancient amulet empowered by the gods with creativity and beauty. Unfortunately a madman has discovered her secret and is determined to gain possession of it, even if he must kill her to do so. It will take every wile in her formidable arsenal of tricks to outwit the megalomaniac who is after her.

At the same time the madman is trying to steal her amulet, a ranch hand is trying to steal her heart. Bella is determined not only to stay alive but to keep her size five stilettos footloose and fancy-free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Cox
• Release date: Aug 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781393446019

Sandra Cox

Multi-published author Sandra Cox writes YA Fantasy, Paranormal and Historical Romance, and Metaphysical Nonfiction. She lives in sunny North Carolina with her husband, a brood of critters, and an occasional foster cat. Although shopping is high on the list, her greatest pleasure is sitting on her screened-in porch, listening to the birds, sipping coffee and enjoying a good book. She’s a vegetarian and a Muay Thai enthusiast. Readers can find Sandra at sandracox.blogspot.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/SandraCox.Author, or at twitter.com@Sandra_Cox.

Book preview

Prologue

He sat at the prison library, scrolling down the computer screen, his dark eyes glazed and feverish. Yes, yes, yes, I know all that, he muttered as he scanned the article, reading—

Legend has it that out of all the mortals on earth five women found favor with the gods...

Olympia, a poor widow with children to feed,

Zoe, a young queen whose village was razed and plundered and she herself taken as a slave,

Pelagia, who had the body of a woman and the mind of a child,

Helen,  who  lost  four  of  her  children  to  the  plague and  begged  the  gods  to  spare  her remaining child,

And Sophia, whose face was pitted and ravaged by pox.

Moved, the gods created five special amulets in the form of armbands for the women to wear on their forearms.

To Olympia an amulet forged with wealth.

To Zoe an amulet forged with power.

To Pelagia an amulet forged with knowledge.

To Helen an amulet forged with healing.

And for Sophia they forged a molten gold amulet with a lovely rose quartz at its center flanked with deep green tourmaline stones then infused it with beauty and creativity.

He clicked on the mouse and flipped to another screen.

It is believed that green tourmaline enhances artistic creativity and the rose quartz beauty. The ancient Japanese believed that quartz was formed from the breath of a white dragon and represented perfection. And what more representative of feminine perfection than the lovely pink of rose quartz?

He  stopped  reading  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  trying  to  quell  the  unholy laughter bubbling in his throat. Yes, Isabella Tremaine represented perfection. Even in death her features would look like chiseled alabaster.

Death would become her. The laughter he’d tried to swallow spewed over and echoed in a wild cacophony through the quiet prison library.

Chapter One

The big jet’s engines droned. Outside the windows, stars glittered against the black of night. Isabella Tremaine—Bella to her friends—glanced at her watch. Ten p.m. She leaned her seat back and snuggled into the blanket provided to offset the cool air flowing through the plane.

The tangy aftershave of a passenger walking down the aisle tickled her senses. Drowsy and drifting toward sleep, it took several moments for her mind to register the insidious unease pricking her body. The hairs on her nape rose. Needles of tension ran skeletal fingers up her spine, settling in her neck. Someone watched her.

The malevolence of the gaze crawled across her like a spider. Victor Price? Of course not. He was in prison... Wasn’t he?

The sensation had to be connected with the amulet. Her bones twitched with it. Under the blanket, she touched her forearm. Beneath the expensive mint-green silk blouse, the cool molten-gold band and its three raised stones met her fingertips. Who on the plane could possibly know about the piece of jewelry she always wore on her forearm and the power it gave the wearer, the power of creativity and beauty?

With a click, she pulled the seat up and looked around. There were no first-class seats available on her flight from Rome to Atlanta so she sat smack-dab in the economy section with rows of drowsing people in front, beside and behind her.

She looked at the young woman seated next to her. Her companion had spiky black hair and black fingernails bitten to the quick. The last time she’d returned from the restroom she had smelled of an illegal substance. Eyes closed, mouth open and headphones on, the young Goth snored softly.  No, the threat she sensed wasn’t coming from the young person at her elbow... At least she didn’t think so.

Straightening, she glanced around. Her sweeping gaze barely registered the admiring and occasional leering glances from the males on board. She’d dealt with that sort of thing since thirteen. What she sensed and looked for...the cold icy sheen of depravity. But evil was seldom easy to recognize.

Who knew that better than she? Not only had Victor completely duped her the first time they’d met, he’d stolen her amulet. Once again, she touched it under cover of the blanket. Her mouth tightened. She’d be damned if he’d get it again.

Leaning back, she watched a popular actress sweep across the movie screen with an arrogance that could only be admired.

When a baby cried, she took the opportunity to glance up and around at her fellow passengers but could not locate the source of her unease. She took a breath from deep in her belly and forced herself to relax one vertebra at a time.

She watched the flight attendant in a crisp blue suit make her way down the aisle taking drink orders. The attendant glanced at her sleeping companion, bent over her and asked in a low voice, Can I get you anything to drink?

She blew out a breath. She’d love a glass of white wine but didn’t dare. She needed to stay alert. Nothing, thank you.

The attendant stared for a moment. I’m sorry but you look familiar.

She stuck out her hand. Isabella Tremaine.

The attendant’s face lit up. She clasped Bella’s hand then released it. Oh, Ms. Tremaine, I love your work. It’s a pleasure to have you on our flight. Don’t you have a  show coming up?

Bella nodded. The end of next week. I hope you can stop by. It’s at White’s uptown.

The attendant nodded. If I’m not in Rome I’ll be there. She straightened and moved on.

Bella scratched her palm. Her fingers itched for a paintbrush, anything to take her mind off the unease slithering under her skin.

Not even the sensuality of food or sex could touch the ecstasy of immersing herself in the all-consuming passion of painting. Her time in Italy had been spent behind an easel replicating in oil the brilliant Tuscan countryside and the splendors of Rome. She’d made arrangements with Sabina Comti to have them shipped home when the canvases dried. She blinked, arrested. Sabina. Had someone made the connection between her and Sabina? Gods, she hoped not.

Bella had found Marnie Sinclair, the owner of the healing amulet, in Wisconsin and while in Rome she’d discovered Sabina Comti, the owner of the power amulet. Coincidence? She doubted it. A force was at work bringing them together as a sisterhood, the keepers of the amulets. She grimaced. Melodramatic but true.

Reaching up, she cupped the back of her neck, trying to loosen the building tension with her fingertips. One hour until the plane touched down. Then what? She’d think of something.

The hour crawled by but finally the plane began its descent. Her ears popped as the pressure on them loosened. The big jet circled then dropped. She closed her eyes as the tires fought for purchase on the runway then screamed to a halt.

As soon as the plane stopped, she stood up. Her seat companion yawned, stretched and stepped into the aisle. She backed up to let Bella out. Bella stepped into the narrow aisle and pulled her oversized bag out of the overhead compartment with a thump.

Her neck prickled. Whoever watched her was behind her. She could feel his—or her—inimical stare. On the pretext of adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag, she glanced back at the milling sea of faces behind her but no one that she could see paid her any mind.

Take it one step at a time. As she exited, she spoke to the flight attendant then shuffled off the plane with the rest of the passengers. After getting through customs she merged with the sea of humanity, hurrying to the conveyor belt for their luggage.

With the efficiency of long practice she shot out her arm and grabbed the large suitcase as it went by. She headed for the door, her glance moving from left to right. As she stepped outside and to the curb a cab slid to a stop in front of her. Chance or planned? She stepped aside and let the couple next in line take it.

When the next cab ground to a stop, she turned. Her seatmate stood behind her. Why don’t you go ahead? Bella smiled and motioned toward the cab.

The cabbie rolled down his window. I ain’t got all day, lady, he said to Bella then took a good look at her. His eyes glazed over and his Adam’s apple quivered. Take all the time you want, ma’am.

Share? the young person invited.

For a split second Bella thought about accepting but caution prevailed. You go ahead.

Black-clad shoulders shrugged and her former seatmate stepped into the taxi. Staring at the figure in the backseat, Bella tapped a gleaming red fingernail against her lip. I wonder... No. I must be getting paranoid. She shook her head and flagged down the next taxi. The driver took one look at her, hopped out and threw her large luggage case in the trunk and opened the door for her.

She settled into the seat, the cracked leather creaking beneath her. As she positioned herself to see out of his rearview mirror, Bella tried to ignore the overpowering scents of heavy aftershave and garlic.

The taxi driver put his arm across the back of the seat and twisted around. Where to, ma’am?

Digging into her purse, she pulled out a wad of bills and gave them to him. Drop me uptown then take my luggage to my apartment. She gave him the address of a popular all-night diner then the address of her brownstone in a trendy little area on the edge of Atlanta.

Settling back in the seat, she watched the rearview mirror. But as hard as she tried she couldn’t follow the thick traffic patterns behind her. I bet Hank could. The unwelcome thought popped into her mind like a vagrant memory. She shook her head. Why in the world was she thinking about that redneck Wisconsin cowboy?

Because he was damn good at keeping people alive and taking care of folks, her mind responded. And that was the only reason, she assured herself, clasping her hands together and rubbing a thumb over her wrist.

The taxi pulled smoothly up to the curb. Here we go, ma’am. Pursing her lips and jutting her chin in a determined gesture, she pushed thoughts of Hank McHenry out of her head and leaned forward. Just give my luggage to George the doorman. He’ll take care of it.

Will do. Would you like me to come back for you?

She considered it for a moment then shook her head. No, but thank you. He left the cab running, hopped out and opened her door.

He took her hand and bowed over it, the charming, old-world gesture at odds with his slicked-back thinning hair and Bronx accent.

She withdrew her hand, gave him a smile and a nod then, with her stiletto heels clicking against the sidewalk and hips swaying, headed into the diner.

Inside, she paused in the doorway and looked around for an available booth. The smell of grease, burgers and fries hung heavy in the air. Her stomach rumbled in response.

Couples and singles of all ages sprinkled the bar seats and booths. A tired-looking waitress in a black uniform, with a white apron over it, cleaned a booth in the corner. Bella headed for it like a homing pigeon. She settled into the worn orange plastic seat with a sigh of pleasure. Coffee, a cheeseburger loaded and fries, sugar.

The waitress nodded took one last swipe at the table with her wet rag and walked away.

She faced the door, her eyes on the wide glass window on her left and looked around. No one paid her any attention. Digging in her travel bag, she pulled out a gold compact and fluffed her hair, tilting the mirror to see the street outside the diner. She squinted, trying to get a better view.

As she watched the street, a drunk weaved down the sidewalk, stopped at the third car back and pounded on the window. He continued to bang on the car ‘til someone sitting inside shoved the door open, sending him staggering backward.

The man who got out of the car leaned over him in a threatening manner and the drunk turned and staggered off. Looking quickly at the diner, the man got back in his car and leaned toward the floor as if picking something up. The move took him out of Bella’s view until the interior light of the car went off.

Bella’s heart did a hard thump against her ribs. Whoever sat in the car didn’t look like a Boy Scout selling popcorn. For one brief moment he’d looked directly at her.

She  shut  the  compact  with  a  brisk  click  as  the  waitress  walked  to  her  table, balancing Bella’s meal on a round black tray over her shoulder.

The waitress sat a thick white mug and plate in front of Bella then moved on to the next customer. She used both hands to pick up the burger. Grease dripped onto the plate as she bit into cheese, sirloin, pickle, onion and mustard. Mmm. Joe’s All-Night Diner wasn’t much on ambiance but it had the best burgers in Atlanta. She put the burger down and flicked pickle juice off her fingers. Thank the gods she had a high metabolism. She couldn’t abide rabbit food.

Her mind slid to the man in the car. What to do? Wiping her fingers on a paper napkin, she touched the amulet and experienced a jolt of inspiration. Of course!

She ate slowly, watching people walk in and out. Periodically, she glanced into her compact, the driver in the dark sedan always there. As she picked up her last fry, two young women in scruffy jeans and Sixties-style tie-dyed tops walked in. One was a tall brunette wearing an Atlanta Braves cap, the other a blonde about Bella’s height.

She motioned to the waitress for another cup of coffee. When it came she stuck her elbows on the table, wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic mug and sipped, keeping an eye on the girls. When they got up and headed for the restroom, she dug through her bag, threw some bills on the table and followed.

The restroom was clean but had seen better days. There were two steel-gray partitioned stalls for privacy and a couple of sinks with a wide mirror over them. Water plopped from a leaky faucet, leaving a mineral buildup in the basin.

The young women stood at the washbasin, giggling. The blonde looked to be about five-four. Bella shrugged. She was five-five. Close enough.

She walked up and reached for a brown paper towel. Hello, ladies.

’Lo, the blonde muttered. The other young woman ignored her.

How would you each like to make a quick fifty bucks? She dry-washed her hands with the paper towel, wadded it up and tossed it in the trash.

We aren’t pushers, the blonde spoke up.

Or hookers, her companion added.

I’m glad to hear it. Resting her hip against the counter, Bella spoke to the blonde. I just want to exchange clothes with you.

The blonde looked at Bella’s expensive silk blouse and fitted beige skirt and rolled her eyes. Sorry but that’s so not my style. She turned back to her friend.

Listen, girls, you’d be doing me a huge favor, she improvised. My ex is waiting for me outside the diner. I’ve broken it off but he won’t take no for an answer. I’ve got a date and I don’t want him showing up and ruining things for me.

It worked like a charm. The girls were all sympathy, their eyes alight with adventure. The blonde nodded her head vigorously, her thin hair falling in her face. Been there. Done that. They just can’t take no for an answer. She slipped the long-sleeved, tie-dyed tee over her head.

Men, the brunette added.

The women swapped outfits. Bella stuffed herself into jeans she couldn’t quite zip up and a tie-dyed tee that fit her like a second skin. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get picked up for hooking.

Handing the girls each fifty dollars, she made a point to hold the young blonde’s hand for a moment as she placed the money in it and thanked her. Energy sizzled down her arm and out her fingertips, the transformation instantaneous.  The young blonde’s thin lank hair became full and shiny, her skin luminescent and her lips moist and ripe.

Her friend stared. Wow. I’m going to have to start going for the middle-aged look. You look fabulous.

Bella’s lips twitched.

The young woman glanced in the mirror. Her lovely eyes widened. I do, don’t I?

You look like a million bucks, honey. Now here’s what we’re going to do. You step outside and hail a cab. Bella dug in her bag. Here’s another twenty for the taxi. Have him drive around for about fifteen minutes then come back to the diner and pick up your friend. By then I should be long gone. She dug in her bag and pulled out her card. Call me if you have any problems.

Nodding, the girls hurried out. The brunette paused in the doorway and handed Bella her cap and walked out. Bella stood staring at the cap. For a moment doubts assailed her. Had she just put these young women in jeopardy?

She straightened and lifted her chin. No. Whoever was out there was after her. And these young women were savvy. They could take care of themselves. Plus the blonde would have the edge of creativity, for a while at least.

Five minutes