by Terri Reid
Lost for a moment in his charm and courtesy, it took the innkeeper a moment to process his request. “Oh! Of course,” she replied, slipping her hand out of his and rushing around the desk. “Please, come this way.”
She led him to a beautiful oak staircase with leaded cut-glass windows that shone on the highly polished steps. Turning, she smiled again. “It’s right up here.”
He followed her to the upstairs hall, and she opened the first door. “This is the suite,” she said. “It has a bedroom, sitting room, and ensuite bath.”
He slowly looked around the well-furnished room and nodded. The décor was circa 1900 and fit the atmosphere of the house. “It’s lovely,” he replied. “I’m sure I will feel quite at home here.”
“Oh, where is your home?” she asked. “You didn’t say.”
He smiled at her and nodded. “No, I didn’t, did I?” Then he turned back to the hallway. “And the other rooms?”
“Oh,” she replied, slightly nonplussed. “You have two more bedrooms that share a bath in the hall. One has a small sitting room with a television.”
He smiled. “That will be relaxing,” he said.
“Would you like me to bring fresh linen up every day to all three rooms?” she asked.
He paused for a moment, considering her question. “May I be completely honest with you?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Of course,” she eagerly replied. “Yes. Of course.”
“I am here on a somewhat classified assignment,” he said, glancing around to ensure their privacy. “Which is one of the reasons I reserved the entire second floor. The assignment I am completing is quite… how should I put this? Crucial.”
“Crucial?” she repeated.
He nodded. “Very crucial,” he agreed. “Not only for Whitewater, not only for the state of Wisconsin but, literally for the entire country.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my,” she gasped. “Do you work for an agency?”
His smile widened, and he nodded slowly. “I see that you understand reading between the lines,” he said with approval. “I can’t divulge who I am working for, but some call us an alphabet agency.”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded wordlessly.
“Therefore, you will understand that access to my rooms will be somewhat limited,” he said. “Especially because of the sensitivity of the paperwork I am carrying.”
“Of course,” she breathed. “Of course.”
“I will be happy to change my linen when needed,” he said. “And I will also tidy up after myself.” He smiled again, showing a mouthful of pearl-white teeth. “I have learned to be quite particular about not leaving any traces behind.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine. I’m sure,” she said. “I can certainly make sure that you get all the privacy you need.”
“That would be very helpful,” he said, and then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and if anyone comes asking questions about me, I would appreciate your discretion.”
“Could there be danger?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Oh, I don’t anticipate danger,” he replied. “But I would truly appreciate knowing if anyone comes around asking questions. In order to anticipate any trouble.”
“Yes, we don’t want any trouble,” she repeated, then she took a deep breath and smiled at him once more. “Well, is there anything else I can do?”
“There is one more thing,” he replied. “Do you know anything about a family in the area whose last name is Willoughby?”
Chapter Five
Joseph deliberately parked the cruiser next to the black Suburban in the B&B’s parking lot. Strolling around the back of the cruiser, he glanced at the license plate on the SUV and then took a quick photo with his phone, so he could run the plate once he got back into the office.
With that taken care of, he followed the same path Finias had followed about thirty minutes earlier. He took his time walking up to the lobby, observing the landmarks around the old B&B and wondering if this location would be advantageous to a member of the other coven.
He looked down Fremont towards the Municipal Building, Donovan’s office was about two blocks away from there. The water tower, that had stories and rumors of its own, was less than a mile away in the other direction. He shook his head; there didn’t seem to be anything significant about this location that he could see. He would have to ask Hazel.
Just thinking her name immediately brought a smile to his lips. He was heading to the Willoughby house after work, so they could continue their plans for ending the curse. It was less than two months from Samhain, or Halloween as he liked to call it, and they were still not close to finding a solution to the problem.
Added to that, things had been heating up in town. Members of the opposing coven, who had always held their cards close to their chest, were now outwardly performing spells and wreaking havoc throughout the city. His officers now all wore amulets courtesy of the Willoughby witches to protect them from curses and spells. He had to smudge his offices and the jail cells daily with white sage to cleanse any residual negative energy. This is not what he’d signed up for when he became an officer of the law.
Feeling a little testy, as he remembered what the damn coven was putting him through, Joseph marched into the B&B with a little more attitude than he had initially intended. He strode over to the reception desk, put his forearms on the counter, and leaned toward Katie, who was typing on her computer.
“Who’s the guy in the black Suburban?” he asked bluntly.
She looked up at him and shook her head. “What?”
He nodded in the direction of her parking lot. “The black Suburban parked out in the lot,” he said. “Who owns it?”
She shrugged. “That’s privileged information.”
“I’m the damn Chief of Police,” Joseph snarled. “I’m privileged.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have a warrant?” she asked.
“What the hell, Katie?” he blustered. “Since when do I need a warrant for a simple answer.”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s all about legal protection,” she replied. “If I divulge confidential information and my guests find out, they could sue me. Or, even worse, they could post a bad review.”
“Katie,” he groaned. “This could be important.”
Katie looked up at Joseph and bit her lower lip in consternation. She really hated to do this to him, but Ellis had specifically asked her to keep his information confidential. And if he were really from the FBI or the CIA or the NSA, she could be in a lot more trouble than just making Joseph get a warrant. She shook her head.
“Sorry, Chief,” she said. “That’s my final answer.”
Joseph glared at her and shook his head. He hated the fact that she was well within her rights to request a warrant. He hated the fact that he hadn’t considered the legal ramifications of encouraging her to disclose private information. And he really hated the fact that he was going to have to go in front of a judge and try to talk her into giving him a warrant without any viable probable cause except a gut feeling.
“I’ll remember this, Katie,” he said, sliding his forearms off the counter and stepping back.
She stood up and faced him. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Next Fraternal Order of Police Officers Pancake Breakfast,” he said with a sneer. “You’re not getting a discount.”
He turned and walked out, pleased with the surprised chuckle he heard behind him.
“I guess it’s time to sweet talk a judge,” he said, as he stepped off the front porch.
“Or you could just ask the owner of the vehicle.”
Chapter Six
Joseph turned around and looked at Finias, concealing his surprise that the man was as tall as he was. “I guess I could ask the owner,” Joseph acknowledged. “Would you happen to be the owner?”
Finias nodded. “I am,”
he said. “Is there a law in this town against driving black Suburbans?”
Joseph studied the man before him. The man was certainly over forty years of age, but Joseph couldn’t be sure how much older. He was well-built and in shape, a shape that Joseph knew you didn’t get from the inside of a gym. His eyes were piercing—electric blue—and held Joseph’s gaze with calm certainty.
“No, I don’t suppose there is,” Joseph finally replied. “Unless, of course, the driver is looking to cause some kind of mischief.”
A wide smile broke out on Finias’ face, and he nodded. “Yes, I could see how that would be a concern,” he replied. “However, I am not looking to cause any kind of mischief.”
“Do you mind if I ask you why you’re in town?” Joseph asked.
The smile remained. “Not if you don’t mind me not answering,” he replied calmly.
“Actually, I do mind,” Joseph replied. “I’ve got too many things going on in this town to play games with you.”
Finias’ smile vanished. “Have things already begun?” he asked.
“Which side are you on?” Joseph asked.
Finias lowered his voice. “Do you mean, am I a good witch or a bad witch?” he asked sarcastically.
“No, I’m asking you what the hell you’re doing in Whitewater,” Joseph snapped. “And if I don’t get a good answer, I’m going to throw your ass in jail.”
“On what grounds?” Finias asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“Obstruction of justice,” Joseph replied, mimicking Finias’ stance. “I’ve got an ongoing investigation here, and I have a feeling you’re not telling me everything you know.”
“I haven’t told you anything at all,” Finias declared.
“Exactly my point,” Joseph tossed back.
Finias stared at Joseph for a long moment, and then he smiled and nodded. “Okay, I will tell you what I know, on one condition,” he replied.
“What?” Joseph asked warily.
“You keep my presence here in Whitewater hidden,” Finias replied.
Joseph rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because no one is going to notice a six-foot five black guy with blue eyes in the middle of Wisconsin,” he said sarcastically. “Really? Really, you think you can keep your presence a secret.”
“You just keep my information confidential and my presence here under wraps,” Finias said, “And I’ll worry about the rest of the town.”
“Before I agree to anything with you, I have one question you have to answer,” Joseph demanded.
Finias nodded slowly. “And if I answer, do I have your word that you will keep my presence confidential?”
Joseph nodded.
“Fine, go ahead and ask,” Finias said.
“Are you any danger to the Willoughbys?” Joseph asked.
Finias stared straight into Joseph’s eyes and shook his head. “No, I do not pose a threat to that family.”
“If you are lying to me…” Joseph began.
Finias straightened himself proudly. “I do not lie.”
“I heard that before,” Joseph replied. “But for now, I’ll take you at your word.”
“Our agreement, for confidentiality,” Finias said. “That includes the Willoughbys. I do not want her…I mean, them to know I am here.”
“I gave my word,” Joseph said. “And I’ll keep it. As long as you keep up your side of the bargain.”
“Where do you want to meet?” Finias asked. “I would prefer to meet in the evening.”
“Okay, ten-thirty,” Joseph said. “Private or public?”
“Private,” Finias replied.
Joseph pulled out a card, jotted an address on the back and handed it to Finias. “My apartment,” he said. “I’ll see you at ten-thirty.” He started to turn when Finias reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Aren’t you afraid to meet me alone?” Finias asked.
Joseph turned back and smiled, suddenly his eyes glowed with feral light, and his canine teeth sharpened. Then, just as quickly, he was back to his normal self. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Chapter Seven
Cat slipped the paper booties on over her shoes and put a white lab coat on over her t-shirt and jeans. Her black, curly hair was already wrapped in a colorful scarf, so she decided to opt out of putting the hair net over her head. She turned and looked across the wide expanse from the front door of the production center for their herb distillations and remedies to Rowan’s office in the back. She could see Rowan and Henry through the large window and grinned. From the looks of things, they had both forgotten about their meeting.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she quickly texted her sister. “Get a room.”
She watched, delighted, as Rowan pulled away from her embrace with Henry, glanced down at her phone and then looked out through the window. A tinge of pink lit upon Rowan’s cheeks, and she laughed, then looked down at her phone and texted back. “I have an entire building; I don’t need a room.”
Laughing, Cat replied. “Do you want me to come back later?” She added a smoochie-faced emoji and sent it.
Rowan opened the door to the office and called, “No, you’ve already ruined the moment,” she teased. “You might as well come in.”
Henry, Cat noted as she entered the large office area, was also wearing a slight tinge on his cheeks and cleared his throat several times before he could speak. “Um, good afternoon, Cat,” he managed, his English accent sounding even more proper than usual.
“It’s still morning, Henry,” Cat replied, biting back a smile.
He glanced down at his watch, ran his hand through his hair, making it even more ruffled than Rowan’s hands had done, and sighed. “So, it is,” he said, shaking his head. “So it is.”
Cat pulled a tissue from a box and handed it to him before sitting down at the meeting table. “Lipstick,” she said, not bothering to hide her grin this time. “On your lips. The shade doesn’t suit you at all.”
Rowan hid her smile behind her hand as she sat down next to her sister. “It really wasn’t that noticeable,” she assured him.
Henry rubbed his lips hurriedly, disposed of the tissue, and took his seat at the table. “I have totally lost any shred of dignity,” he said.
“Well, when it’s lost for love,” Cat replied, “it’s understandable.”
Her heart tightened when she saw the two lovers clasp hands without thought as they pulled their notes in front of them.
“Okay,” Henry said, his voice now business-like, as he looked down at his information. “I’ve reviewed the text from the part of the grimoire we were allowed to read.”
“Wait? What?” Cat asked.
Henry looked up at Cat. “The grimoire we were given, the one Patience hid away, is only partially opened,” he explained. “There is a spell on it that won’t allow us to read further at this time.”
“Why not?” Cat asked.
Rowan shook her head. “You’re not going to like the answer,” she said.
“Try me,” Cat replied.
“Our ancestors were pretty specific about what we needed in order to fight the demon,” Rowan said, then she looked down at her papers and read. “The three must find partners, those of the blood, who love deeply enough to sacrifice themselves for the quest. Without the three (and, perhaps, one more soul) the beast will not be conquered, and humanity will be defeated.”
She looked up and met her sister’s eyes. “Then at the end of their message, they said, ‘We ask you now, our dear family, to find those partners and then return to this grimoire within the safety of a circle to read more of your task.’”
“So, we can’t learn any more until I find a match,” Cat said softly.
Rowan nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m so sorry.”
Shaking her head, Cat looked away from Henry and Rowan and stared out the window. “I can’t trust Donovan,” she whispered sadly. “I don’t know whose side he’s on.”
; “But can you love anyone else?” Henry asked quietly.
Cat shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied, laughing mirthlessly. “I’ve never tried.”
“And just where are we going to find an acceptable partner who’s of the blood in Whitewater?” Rowan asked. “It’s not like someone fitting that description drives into town every day.”
Chapter Eight
Donovan slammed his office door behind him and stormed over to his desk. “I can handle this,” he muttered. “Norwalk has no idea what he’s talking about.”
He cradled his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and took several measured breaths. He needed to be strong. Not only for himself, but for Cat. For the entire Willoughby family, he owed them that much. Lifting his head, he glanced at the full-length mirror hanging on the small closet in the corner of the room. Putting his hands on the edge of the desk, he pushed himself up and, still watching himself in the mirror, slowly walked over to stand in front of it
Standing a less than a foot away from the mirror, he opened his suit jacket. Then he loosened his tie and slipped it over his head and placed it on the chair behind him. Reaching up to the top of his shirt, he slowly unbuttoned it, pulling the shirttails out of his slacks until the shirt lay loosely open. He took a deep breath, grabbed hold of either side of the shirt, and slowly opened it. The five red, oozing welts bisected his abdomen and wrapped around his body. Still watching himself in the mirror, he lightly touched one of the wounds and winced in pain.
“Boot camp,” he whispered, staring at the welts. “It’s just like boot camp. Break you down to build you up. I can handle it.”
He lifted his head, stared into his own eyes, and softly chanted a spell.
“Remove the mask upon my face,
Remove the glamour others see,
Reveal the truth, the spell replaced,
For as I will, so mote it be.”
For a moment, the face in the mirror was a blurry oval, but then it became clearer and more distinct. The handsome face that Cat had fallen in love with was now sunken and pale. His dark, piercing eyes were surrounded with dark shadows. His cheekbones more pronounced and his lips, chapped and dry.
