by Cate Masters
“Both of us?” How would she explain this guy to a policeman? Her passenger’s appearance went way beyond any Halloween costume. She didn’t even know his name, for crying out loud.
The officer crouched again and scanned the interior. “Pardon?”
“Do you want us both to get out?” She gestured to the passenger side and froze.
The seat was empty.
* * * *
A knock echoed through the hall. Joss rushed to the front door. Another great gust of wind ruffled the scarf of the woman standing on the threshold. Diminutive, yet she projected a force to reckon with, her sapphire eyes sparkling as she assessed Joss with a loving smile. Short hair framed her face in layers, mostly gray but still a hint of blond.
“Gram. How did you get here so quickly?” Delighted, Joss hugged her.
The last party guest departed minutes earlier, followed by Annie. Her grandmother must have left her Solebury home immediately after speaking to Lydia. A two and a half hour drive, and one she’d rarely endeavored during Joss’s marriage due to John’s disapproval of the family’s magical practices.
Now Gram stepped inside without hesitation. “I needed to see for myself if Lydia exaggerated about this wonderful inn.” Her authoritative tone clipped the air.
“And? What do you think?” Expectation hung thick as Joss waited.
“Her description didn’t quite capture its splendor.” A gleam lit Gram’s eyes. “Or its intensity. I’ve never experienced such powerful vibrations.”
“Neither have I.” Every day, its undercurrent infused her consciousness more. Life had grown dark after her husband John died three years ago. Every day, the sunlight had dimmed, and every night, the shadows blacker. Their silky depths had beckoned. Bits of her soul had wanted to follow John, to pass through the dark curtain and into his arms again. If not for Taz, Joss might have allowed herself to melt into those murky shadows.
After moving to the inn, her haze of grief dissipated to unveil colors more vivid than she’d remembered. Their brilliance breathed new life into her too. Gram would call it a good sign. Before coming here, her life ran short of those. Joss finally had turned that around.
Removing her coat, Gram said, “Certainly explains your uninvited guests tonight.”
“Yes, the biggest surprise of the evening.” She caught Lydia’s wide-eyed glance at Gram. “Lydia says you have more to tell me.”
Gram came to her side, her hazel eyes clear. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Probably not, but putting things off never helped. “Yes.”
Gram winked at Lydia. “I think we need margaritas.”
“I sure do.” Lydia headed for the kitchen.
“That must be why I bought fresh limes today.” At the farmer’s market earlier, Joss had picked some up automatically, as she sometimes did when intuition kicked in.
“Excellent.” Linking her arm through Joss’s, Gram led her on.
Not that Joss needed further encouragement. “Please, Gram. I can’t bear to wait.”
Her grandmother patted Joss’s arm. “Do you remember when you were seven?”
“Vaguely.” Her childhood came back in a blur, fantasy mixed with reality. Her dolls had been fairy princesses riding unicorns. Dogs and cats weren’t mere family pets but dignified servants of fae royalty.
Gram smiled. “You were a special girl. You still are exceptional, of course, but as a child, your innocence was pure, and you believed without questioning.”
Believing. Joss knew where this was headed. “Yes, I had quite the imagination.”
“Call it what you will. You were favored, and still are. Because of your heritage.”
Casting a skeptical glance, Joss sat on the kitchen stool. “Oh, Gram.”
With a wicked grin, Lydia dropped the last of the ice cubes into the blender. “It’s high time you acknowledged it, Jocelyn.” Pressing the machine’s button eliminated the opportunity to argue over the loud whir. Once the mixer reduced the ice to shards, Lydia added the triple sec and tequila.
“What does it mean, exactly?” Joss asked. “I’m some sort of fairy princess?”
Rimming a glass with salt, Lydia tilted her head. “Not a princess.”
“Not even a half-blood.” Gram filled the glass and handed it to Joss.
For fortitude, she sipped. “All right. Let’s have it.”
Gram clinked her glass to Joss’s. “Do you remember the stories about Iris?”
“Yes, those were always my favorites.” Strange, Iris featured so prominently in the family history even though she lived centuries ago. “I thought she died in her mid-thirties.” Younger than Joss by almost a decade.
Lydia settled on the bar stool beside her. “The family fudged her story to cover up the truth.”
After sipping, Gram said, “Iris left the mortal world to fulfill her duty.”
The mortal world? It sounded more like a fairy tale. “Which was?”
Gram and Lydia exchanged a serious look before Gram said, “To act as a bridge between earth and the other realm.”
“What about her mortal marriage?” Joss couldn’t believe the ease with which the strange words slipped from her mouth.
Lydia sighed. “Her family never recognized the union.”
“Didn’t Iris love her husband?” She couldn’t recall his name. Must be the tequila kicking in. Not enough, so she sipped more.
“Very much,” Gram said. “She was bound by duty and left him to raise their daughter alone.”
“She left her child?” The thought astounded her. How tragic. She could relate, having only been nineteen years old when Mom left. Joss had married the year before at the tender age of eighteen, but still felt abandoned. Especially since her dad had died soon after.
“Because of Iris’s lineage,” Gram continued, “her descendants rightfully deserved certain privileges. Protection, for one.”
Lydia tapped a nail on the counter. “Their protection has carried down through generations.”
“To me?” Joss couldn’t quite grasp the concept.
Gram swept her hand in the air. “To every member of our family.”
“What about Mom?” Joss gasped. “Where did she disappear to?”
“She didn’t want to leave you,” Gram said. “I assured her we would look after you.” She leveled a serious look at Joss. “You understand she had no other option. They’d already killed your father.”
Joss’s breath escaped her. “What? No. Dad died after a massive heart attack. Everyone said so. Every one of you.” They’d lied. Betrayed her.
“We couldn’t tell you then.” Gram’s voice strained with emotion.
Lydia grew more somber. “Your mother left this world to draw focus away from you. She hoped your mundane, non-magical lifestyle would deter any would-be assassin from The Underworld.”
She couldn’t have heard right. Anger welled up. “Who murdered Dad?” What gave them the right to tear her family’s lives apart? “And why?” The last word came out as a whisper.
“A certain group of demons bears a grudge against us. We’d hoped they’d satisfied their need for revenge, but unfortunately not.”
The Underworld. Demons. Dread crept over her like footsteps across a grave. “Do you mean John? They killed him too?” It couldn’t be.
“We couldn’t stop them.” Sorrow filled Gram’s face. “I’m sorry, Jocelyn.” Gram laid her hand atop Joss’s and squeezed. “I came tonight to warn you. You may be in terrible danger.”
She gulped her drink. It would take awhile to process all this.
“I can’t believe it.” An ironic laugh escaped Joss. “Guess I chose the right costume.” A golden goddess. What a joke. Too bad the joke was on her. What if she were to fall in love again? Now that the demons who’d murdered her family had set sights on her, would they target him too? Her head swam, drowning in what-ifs and fear.
Leaning forward, Gram set her gaze on Joss. “Do yo
u recall the night you stole away from home at midnight? To dance with your imaginary friends?”
The memory, repressed for so many years, returned with clarity. The glowing figures flitting in orchestrated sequence, too beautiful to be real.
“I remember it as a dream. A nightmare, honestly.” After the stray coyotes crept out of the shadows, snarling with fangs bared.
“Certainly for your parents, it was a nightmare. They found you in the morning, sleeping safe and sound.”
“Inside the fairy ring.” Joss remembered distinctly now. The glimmering lights guided her inside the circle, and the wild creatures couldn’t follow. Neither could she leave the protection of the ring, and so had fallen asleep. “Because I’m part of their family?” Saying it sounded ridiculous, though she’d always secretly suspected it.
“In the truest meaning of the word.”
“I can’t be related to a goddess.” Yet it would explain why Joss had always seemed different than others. Separate. And had been aware of the fae, even if none of her friends had seen them.
“You are.” Lydia raised her glass. “We all are, sweetie.”
“And the fae are protecting us?” At Gram and Lydia’s nods, Joss went on. “Is that why beings from The Underworld are surfacing? The man, or whatever he is, from the party is a demon, isn’t he? Why Boiling Springs? Why my house?” She suspected she already knew—the energy here. They wanted to tap into its power.
“You already know this place is special. The moment I arrived, it excited me. My perception tingled with possibility. They’d targeted the town several times before. With the economy’s downturn, people became more desperate and vulnerable to them. The juxtaposition of the ley line made this an almost perfect spot to rise.”
“A ley line?” Joss had heard of those. “Like at Stonehenge?”
Lydia nodded. “And Sedona, Arizona, or the Great Pyramid at Giza, at Nazca in Peru and more sites across the world.”
A chill passed through Joss. Incredible. She’d never have guessed the energies meant such power coursed regularly below the inn like a river. Or maybe hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. “So, what now?”
Aunt Lydia glanced at Gram, who pressed her lips together. “It depends.”
Meaning, even Gram had no clue. Great. “Wait and see?”
“For now. Promise you will be ever vigilant.”
No need to tell Joss twice. She’d need more than margaritas to fortify her if she ever saw that dark creature again.
Chapter 3
Main Street in Boiling Springs saw a few more pedestrians and slightly fewer parking spaces than normal as locals gathered for Sunday breakfast at Kara’s Kafe. Eric cringed at the kitschy spelling, but the place offered great cuisine. More than the usual diner fare, it provided the closest to a home-cooked meal he could hope for, along with the company of other people.
A lime green Beetle sat in the prized space directly out front. A jolt shot through his chest as he slid his truck a few spots behind and got out. The Bug was hers. Jocelyn’s. Hard to miss the neon car when it passed his practice, and sometimes he shut his blinds so it wouldn’t distract him. Since the Halloween party two days ago, he couldn’t stop his mind from stripping away her gold and cream outfit to explore her golden skin. First, he’d better apologize for his behavior the other night. He hated for her to think he always acted so awkward, even if it were true.
In the Beetle’s front seat, the border collie edged its nose out the window, open nearly halfway. Eric stopped beside the car and the dog wagged its tail. “Hey, boy.”
Jocelyn Gibson. Her name rolled through his mind. What was she doing here so early? He’d noticed lights on inside the B and B as he jogged past every morning. Local farmers rose that early, of course. He hadn’t expected her to.
Most clients at his veterinary practice pressed him about her. Was she as nice as she was pretty? What were her plans for the place? Did he know she was a widow too? The last question ended every conversation fast.
Occasionally, he considered dating, but he couldn’t get past the numbness inside. The first year after his wife Karen’s sudden death, he’d fought to maintain enough interest in just getting out of bed every morning. If it hadn’t been for his practice, he might not have.
Through the glass front of the diner, he saw her. In jeans, a T-shirt, and denim blazer, her honey blond hair and petite form caught his full attention.
The bell over the door jingled as he entered. Behind the counter, Sheree flashed her usual smile and waved. “Be right with you.”
Jocelyn glanced behind her, directly at him, and smiled. “Hello, Dr. Hendricks.”
Her warmth washed over him, and like waves frothing over the sand, soothed him.
Turning, she pressed closer to the counter. “So you don’t mind if I hang a sign in your window?”
“Sign for what?” He hadn’t intended to move beside her. Usually he minded his own business.
She held up a handmade poster. “I’m looking for a handyman or two.”
Her creamy skin still had a glow. Must be some special type of makeup. No one looked that good under the harsh diner lights. “Oh right. You’re fixing up the bed and breakfast.” Stupid thing to say. He already knew she was.
Pointedly, she said, “Lavender Hill Inn.”
“Lavender Hill?” The hill’s sparse grass added to the rundown appearance of the old place. He’d always believed the B and B held much more potential.
“Yes. Lavender will be our specialty.”
“What sort of specialty?” An image came to mind of Jocelyn lying atop gauzy, lavender-colored sheets. Naked. At a sudden rush of heat, he edged away from her, embarrassed. What the hell had gotten into him?
“Old family recipes with culinary lavender.” A gleam lit her eyes, blue and clear as a spring sky after a rain storm. To the waitress, she said, “Thank you, Sheree. Could I get a cranberry orange muffin to go? They’re too tempting to pass up.”
“Don’t you make your own at the…inn?” Christ, he wished he would shut up. He must sound like an idiot. Even the waitress shot him a disdainful look.
Her petal-pink lips open, Joss stared. “Annie will make a wonderful assortment of dishes, once we’re fully up and running. I still like to support other local businesses.” Taking the small white bag Sheree offered, Joss paid, then went to the door and taped the poster on the window beside it.
He stood watching like a village idiot.
Charlie Fulton approached from the back of the diner to sit at the counter, then ducked his head with sudden interest in his cup. Probably because he never paid for the last vet visit. Laid off, he likely owed more than a few others around town.
Taking the empty stool next to Charlie, Eric nodded in greeting. “How’s it going?”
“Slower than I’d like.” Charlie’s features hardened.
“No work yet?” Seemed like half the town had been pink-slipped or forced into early retirement.
Charlie grimaced. “I’m looking, believe me. Full time jobs are few and far between. I’m paying what I can as I get occasional work.”
Joss smoothed the last piece of tape across the glass behind them. “What sort of work do you do?”
Angling to face her, Charlie shrugged. “Whatever needs to be done.”
“I have plenty of that.” Her face lit in a smile and she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Joss Gibson. I bought the Suttons’ old place on Yellow Breeches Road. Can I give you my number?”
“Sure,” Charlie said.
Pulling a scrap of paper out of her handbag, she scribbled and tore it off. “I can keep you plenty busy. How about if we talk specifics later? Sorry to have interrupted. Bye.”
Her gaze caught Eric’s and held for several thudding heartbeats. His stomach tightened. The overhead lights gave sheen to her hair and her eyes shone with warmth and intelligence, like she could see inside him and understood the turmoil beneath the hard exterior
.
The world slowed around them. Background chatter, the clank of silver against dishes, faded with a roar of white noise in his head. When she turned away, an unnamable ache surged through him. An aura of light swirled in her wake.
The jingle of the bell riveted him until the door closed behind her. Like an antique record player cranked to life, the air crackled again with talk, forks on scraping plates, newspapers folding.
“Doc? Can I get you something?” a woman asked.
As if awakening from a dream, he blinked to focus. “Pardon?”
Sheree waited on the other side of the counter, concern evident in her pursed red lips and furrowed, overly tweezed brow.
“What?” He stood, his appetite gone. “Yes, give me a cranberry-orange muffin to go too, please.”
The waitress frowned and dropped a muffin into a bag. “I hope she doesn’t change the B and B into one of those garish commercial inns with a yucky blinking sign.”
An older woman at the end of the counter spoke up. “We don’t need that. Next thing you know, there’d be fast food joints on every street corner.”
Charlie grumbled into his coffee. “Boiling Springs would become another tourist trap town.”
Sheree gave a proud smirk. “We like it the way it is.”
Not likely to happen in this sleepy Pennsylvania hamlet. Glancing warily around, Eric paid for the muffin. Why the absurd conspiracy theories? Had mass hysteria taken hold? Nothing ever happened here. Everyone knew it. What the hell had gotten into them?
Making his way to the door was like fighting an upstream current. By the time he stepped outside, the lime green Beetle was gone.
* * * *
Sheree dug her glossy red nails into the countertop. What the frack just happened? Like some teenage boy, Eric stood on the sidewalk, looking down the street. After her car.
Jocelyn Gibson. If that woman thought she was going to steal Eric from her, she had another thing coming. Sheree had waited years for him to get the hint. He’d finally been warming up, smiling when he talked to her. She’d been patient as a saint, and it was wearing her out. The man could only grieve so long. She’d waited five years, for goodness sake.
