by Andris Bear
“He’s not mine, and I’m not keeping him. As for you, what are you doing here?”
Did she sound grumpy? Well, too bad. She was in the midst of uncovering family secrets when these two had interrupted her, and she was anxious to get back to digging.
“I want to go to the lake,” Carrow announced.
Pointing to the door, Evangeline said, “It’s that direction.”
“Don’t be a drag. Come sit on the beach with me, get a little sun, tell me about your date with the cute mechanic. Also, I brought goodies.”
“No,” was on the tip of her tongue, but Lord knew she could use some sun, and maybe her friend had some information to add to the mystery about the house that seemed to be connected to her family. With a longing glance at her discarded laptop, Evangeline sighed. “What kind of goodies?”
With a wiggle of her brows, Carrow stated, “You have to go to find out.”
“Fine, but I want it noted you’re bribing me with treats.”
“I sooo needed this,” Carrow said. She was seated cross-legged on her towel, digging through her picnic basket. She pulled out one item after another until Evangeline wondered if a dozen other people would be joining them.
“How much did you bring?” Evangeline asked, eyes widening with each new arrival.
Waving her off, Carrow set the basket aside. “They’re just individually wrapped. We have brownies, blondies, chocolate chip cookies, and macadamia nut.”
Evangeline felt her mouth slowly slide open. At her count, there were at least half a dozen of each type of treat.
“So, Curly Sue, tell me about your hot date with Shane,” Carrow said around a mouthful of blondie. She pointed to the spread, indicating Evangeline needed to dig in.
Choosing a brownie, she unwrapped the clingy wrap crap and then took a bite. The chocolate treat melted in her mouth, and she let out an appreciative groan. “This is delicious.”
“I know. I’m an amazing baker. Now, your date?”
Frowning, Evangeline wiped crumbs from the corner of her mouth. “How did you know I went out with Shane? I don’t remember telling you.”
“You’re kidding, right? The whole town knows.”
The bite Evangeline had just taken lodged in her throat with her gasp. Slapping herself on the chest, she hacked and wheezed past the chunk of chocolate. “What?” she demanded once she caught her breath.
“Oh, yeah, it’s big news,” Carrow said, casually reaching into her basket and pulling out a water bottle. Offering it, she added, “You live in a small town now, girl. Gossip is our stock and trade.”
Evangeline gulped the water. Once she was certain choking wasn’t in her immediate future, she said, “That’s alarming. Don’t you people have anything better to do?”
“No.” Carrow’s brows bobbed up and down. “Wait until you sleep with him.”
Laughter brayed from Evangeline’s mouth like a kicked donkey. Pointing her finger at her friend, she ordered, “Enough.”
“You’re no fun.” Carrow stretched out on her towel. “But seriously, how was your date?”
Following suit, Evangeline smoothed her towel and lay back. “It was nice.”
Several beats passed. Carrow’s head turned, and Evangeline could feel the glare. “Nice. That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
Turning onto her side with a laugh, she said, “It was a lot of fun. Until Freya—that blonde heifer at the library? The one I had to go to the basement for—she came squawking by. I don’t know what her problem is, but I want to set her hair on fire.”
“Well, you know she and Shane dated in high school, right?”
“That frigid witch? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Evangeline rolled over with a grunt of disgust.
“Yep. They were a couple of years ahead of me, so it’s not like we were besties, but rumor had it that he was heartbroken when she dumped him.”
“She dumped him? Ugh, this just keeps getting better. Now I have to question his taste in women.”
Carrow snorted. “Eh, she wasn’t always so nasty, so I wouldn’t hold youthful stupidity against him. He’s a guy—it’s kind of a given. Besides, he seems pretty into you, yeah?”
A smile played at Evangeline’s lips. Aside from their criminal stint at “breaking and entering,” they hadn’t done anything original for their first date, but she’d had a blast. Shane was funny, charming, and smart—not to mention cute as hell.
She had very much enjoyed their time together and hoped for more.
But she hadn’t heard a thing from him since Friday.
Her excitement waned. Sighing, she said, “I thought so, but I haven’t heard from him in a few days.”
“Did he say he’d call?”
Evangeline scowled behind her sunglasses. “No.”
“So, call him.”
She considered the idea a moment. “No.”
Carrow’s laugh was borderline exasperated. “Why not?”
Shrugging one shoulder, Evangeline glanced at her friend. “Have you ever been to the big stone house on the north side of town?”
Was it her imagination, or did Carrow grow very still? When she turned to meet Evangeline’s gaze, she asked, “The Winther House?”
“Yeah.”
“What about it?”
“We kind of… went inside.”
Shooting up, Carrow positioned herself on her elbows. “What do you mean, went inside? Wasn’t it locked?”
Nibbling her bottom lip, Evangeline debated her words. Yeah, but it unlocked itself and let us in seemed an unwise choice, so she went with, “It was open.” Technically, not a lie. More of a reality stretch. Neither she nor Shane had opened the gate or the front door.
Carrow was quiet for so long Evangeline wondered if she hadn’t heard her. “Do you know the legend of that house?” Carrow finally asked.
“That it was built by witches?” Evangeline let out an uneasy chuckle. “Yeah, I heard.”
“So you know it wasn’t just open.”
Frowning, Evangeline scrutinized Carrow. “What are you saying?” Was Carrow accusing her of breaking in? Technically, they hadn’t, though she could see where that was a thin, blurry line.
“If you got into that house…” Carrow exhaled heavily, dropping her gaze. When she lifted it again, her eyes locked on Evangeline’s with such intensity that her stomach dropped. “Then it’s yours. Or soon will be.”
Something in Carrow’s gaze made her feel as if she were staring into the eyes of someone she didn’t recognize, someone with a soul much older than her friend’s.
Evangeline forced a laugh around the lump in her throat. “I take it you believe in witches and haunted houses?”
Carrow took a long sip from her water, capped the lid, then set it aside before answering. “This is an old town, Evangeline. I wouldn’t go tossing around those words unless you know exactly what they mean.”
Evangeline cocked her head at the odd statement. Witches and haunted houses sort of had set definitions, so what the hell else could they mean? And why was her friend scrutinizing her as if seeing straight into her soul? “According to the The Wizard of Oz—which I watched at least a hundred times—the good witch gets the shoes, and the bad one melts with water.”
Oh, and houses crushed the shit out of all of them.
Carrow’s snort preceded her, “That’s so offensive,” as she bolted up from the sand and raced toward the water. Right before she jumped in, she yelled, “We love water!”
Chapter Eleven
“Why does nothing in this damn town cooperate?” Evangeline glared at the frozen laptop screen. After running half a dozen circles over the mouse pad, she pressed the enter key and… nothing.
With a growl of frustration, she punched the space bar.
All in vain. The computer, like the last one she’d tried, froze mid-download.
Running her hands through her hair, she grumbled a threat of castration.
“Who are you castrat
ing?” Carrow asked over her shoulder.
Evangeline pointed to the black-and-white photo on the screen—the one of her parents she’d found before Carrow had dragged her to the lake. When she’d gotten home, intent on returning to her research, her laptop wouldn’t connect to the internet. So, here she was, two days later and none the wiser.
“I can’t get anything to pull up. Everything freezes.”
“Well, we did have a storm the other night,” Carrow said, as if that explained everything.
Turning to face her, Evangeline asked, “So what?”
A careless shrug lifted Carrow’s shoulders. “You’ve lived here long enough to know storms tend to shut the town down. The signals get bounced around the valley. Your phone probably isn’t working well, either.”
Letting out a long sigh, Evangeline turned to the screen. She started to shut down the computer, but Carrow stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Are you still looking into the old Winther house?”
“Those are my parents.” Evangeline nodded to the photo.
Carrow peered intently at the screen. “The article should have been archived. You can probably find it in the basement, if you look hard enough.”
“The basement?” Evangeline swallowed hard. She’d rather eat a road apple. “Don’t we have a microfiche somewhere?”
“Sure,” Carrow chirped. “With all the other relics—in the basement.”
But I don’t want to go to the basement.
Evangeline’s internal whine was no less heartfelt than if she had shouted it. Descending that staircase took first spot on her list of top ten things to never do again.
“Can’t you wave your witchy wand and conjure it for me?” she asked, reminding her friend of her pseudo-declaration before jumping into the lake. Not that she actually expected Carrow to have a magic wand, much less wave it.
But a girl could hope.
Evangeline had asked for clarification after Carrow returned from her dip—it wasn’t every day a friend claimed to work magic—but she had laughed her off, saying, “Half the town thinks they’re descended from witches. I wouldn’t put too much stock in it.”
That had been the end of it as Carrow had pointed the conversation toward Shane, whom Evangeline was more than happy to think about.
“Aren’t you cute?” Carrow patted her shoulder before leaving Evangeline to decide how much she wanted to find that stupid article.
She had two choices. One, ignore her aversion to the basement and go get the article, or two, wait however many more hours—or days—for the signals to stop ditty-bopping all over the valley and try again.
Neither filled her with excitement.
Her gaze flicked to the clock above the checkout desk. By her calculations, she had thirteen minutes before Mimi came off her break and started wandering the library to see what her employees were up to. What havoc the woman thought they would wreak without her supervision, Evangeline couldn’t say, but her boss ran the library like a military camp.
A vision of Mimi decked out in a military muumuu yanked a cackle from her before she could stop it. Clearing her throat, she glanced around to make sure no one was approaching the checkout desk, and then went in search of Carrow to let her know she was headed to the dungeon.
Er, basement.
Carrow waved her on. “Have fun.”
“Sure.” Like a colostomy check.
By the time she made it down the hallway to pause before the door, she was on the verge of changing of her mind. The door wasn’t even open. Yet, her anxiety skyrocketed.
Because how could her mind not return to the last time she’d taken the dark, dingy staircase?
Shaking off the memory, she whispered, “You can do this.”
She totally could—she just didn’t want to.
What she wanted was to learn her parents’ secret past. To do that…
Blowing out a stream of air, Evangeline gripped the lever and pulled before her mind changed itself. The darkness crept toward her between the flickering lightbulbs, sending a shiver down her spine.
Bracing one hand along the wall, Evangeline descended the stairs. The hairs on her nape danced the cha-cha with each step she took, but she pressed on, telling herself the silly nerves were no match for her.
Lies, lies, lies.
If not for her stubborn nature, she’d have bolted faster than Chester at the mention of rusty scissors. Even her bullheadedness couldn’t keep her from gazing longingly at the open doorway above before she moved toward the shelves. Every step that took her out of the light streaming in from the second floor filled her with the certain dread her next step would be one too far.
Maybe that was why she didn’t recognize it at first—she was too concerned with the light than what might be in the dark.
A rush of static filled her ears.
Goose bumps raced over her skin.
Evangeline wrote off the vibration as the hum of the hanging lights. It was as good an explanation as any. Certainly better than the one she was trying to ignore. As for the sensation of being watched?
“Spiders,” she blurted. Please God, give her spiders over of rats. Spiders were little, barely seen, especially in the dim light, which was just how she liked them. Rats, on the other hand, she wanted to see those biting, squeaky bastards coming—not an easy feat in the shitty excuse for a basement.
Winther…
Evangeline froze. Figures they’d be talking spiders.
Squeezing her fists at her sides, she counted to ten. Much to her dismay, the voice in her head didn’t give a crap about her countdown. It repeated her name, and then another voice joined the party, adding an eerie echo inside her skull.
Help… us.
Bound…
Trapped…
Determined to ignore them, she clamped her jaw tight enough to crack enamel, marched forward, and started searching the shelves. If her guess was correct, the article had been written about twenty-five years ago.
Running a finger along the fading dates, she quickly read them aloud to drown out the noise. Evangeline might as well have been reciting the alphabet for all the good it did. She spent more effort trying to ignore the damn things than paying attention to what she was doing.
Lost…
Please…
So long…
“Leave me alone!”
The voices went silent.
“Just leave me alone,” she pled on a whisper. Every psychologist the world over would agree that talking to the voices only invited further conversation, but if they didn’t shut up, she would lose her shit.
Pulse pounding, she focused the inky shadows, debating whether to make a run for it or curl into a ball and bemoan her crazy mind. The newspaper could rot—probably already had, with her luck. There was nothing she wanted badly enough to stay down here. The internet would return eventually, and she’d deal with the big family secret when it did.
Until then… “Peace out, bitches.”
Rushing out of the aisle, she spun toward the stairs with the intent to never return to this godforsaken pit, but instead of facing the stairwell, she skidded to a stop before the old wooden door.
Heartbeats passed in confusion as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The shelves she’d been standing in front of were across the room. Even farther, the stairs. She inched away from the door, her head practically spinning on her neck as she tried to look in every direction at once. How had she moved fifteen yards in the space of a few steps?
Please.
Help.
Or…
Die.
She pivoted to run.
Again, she came face to face with the door.
Only this time, the metal bar that secured it was hanging along the side.
And the door was wide open.
Evangeline let out a moaned, “No,” as she inched backward. Her mind really was crumbling, wasn’t it? Why else would she be hallucinating? And she was definitely hallucinating.
Right?
Because if the sights and sounds bombarding her weren’t figments of her imagination, then something dark and deadly lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to grab her.
Before the thought had fully formed, something clamped down on shoulders and yanked her off her feet.
Chapter Twelve
Shane pulled around to the back lot of the library and chose a parking spot in the shade. Putting the truck in park, he eyed the double glass doors, trying to catch a glimpse of Evangeline.
He wasn’t even sure she was working today, but hadn’t wanted to call ahead and check for fear she’d hang up on him.
Or ask why he hadn’t called for almost a week.
He’d wanted to—several times—but he’d stopped himself because of all the craziness Buff had dumped on him. Before he could talk to Evangeline again, he had to work through his own issues.
Besides, what could he possibly say beyond, “Yeah, so I recently discovered the insane notion that witches run this town is a reality, that I’m what is called a guardian in the magic community—basically a human familiar, and the house we B&Eed is owned by your father and you’re his witchy daughter. Oh, and by the way, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. Would you like to go out again?”
Might want to save that conversation for another time. Like never.
Pocketing his keys, he snagged the bouquet sitting on the passenger seat and climbed from the truck. He hoped the flowers distracted her from asking anything he wasn’t ready to answer. Especially if Buff’s assumptions she had no idea who she was or where she came from were correct.
Shane didn’t want to be the one to drop the bomb that many in the caster community believed the Winther line had been wiped out from a curse. That kind of revelation had “Don’t shoot the messenger,” all over it.
And yet, saying nothing put her in danger. Maybe.
Buff didn’t agree, but Shane was hoping the “curse” had played out. Whoever had taken the Winther siblings—assuming they hadn’t seen the writing on the wall and gotten the hell out on their own before becoming victims—were probably long gone.
