Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “That’s no reason for them to be afraid of us. Plebs outnumber witches by a huge margin.” I thought I knew where he was going with this, but I still didn’t buy it. “The registry works both ways. The public is aware of us. That’s the whole reason the government proposed it.”

  “It wasn’t the government. After the Order realized they wouldn’t be able to work in the shadows anymore, they were the ones that suggested a national registry.”

  I stared at him for the longest time, assuming that I’d heard him wrong. “That’s ridiculous,” I finally blurted. “Why would they want every witch to register? I thought they were the lead lobbying force against that measure.”

  “They weren’t interested in every witch. They were looking for natural talents. The return of old magic. They were interested in people like you.”

  Now I was sure I’d heard him wrong. Old magic was the stuff of fairy tales: witches calling forth fire and changing people into animals. It just didn’t happen. Magic was more subtle, a thing of the mind. I couldn’t create things out of thin air, and I definitely couldn’t change someone into a toad.

  “Just because I have a natural talent doesn’t mean I’m more powerful. I’m not exceptional. I’m not even a particularly talented witch. The only thing I have going for me is my empathy, and I can hardly control that. Don’t even try to tell me I’m the Chosen One or some crap like that.”

  He started to laugh, and I glared at him. He held up a hand and tried to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out. He was laughing at me. The jerk. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t tell him where to go and waited, seething in silence.

  When Rick was finally able to control himself enough to continue the conversation, he said, “I’m sorry, really. I mean, Chosen One? You read way too many books. Don’t worry, you won’t have to lead a crusade or anything.” He started to laugh again at the idea, but stopped when he saw my face. “Sorry. But in all seriousness, the Order and the Division have been using the registry to keep tabs on witches with natural talent. To keep them in line and make sure the media doesn’t get wind of their abilities. When I started, that was one of my primary jobs as an inspector. Plebs don’t understand natural talents, and they fear what they don’t understand. One thing we do know is that each generation seems to regain some of the magic lost during the Burning Times, and it’s getting harder to keep it a secret.”

  The Burning Times was a dark era in human history. Hordes of puritanical zealots combed the countryside burning witches and their families, trying to cleanse the world of their evil. It was caused by superstition and lack of understanding. I couldn’t imagine anything like that happening again, even with increasing public fear.

  “That was a long time ago. We have laws against things like that now,” I said.

  “If you don’t learn from your history, you’re bound to repeat it. Isn’t that how the saying goes? There was a reason the executioners went after the strong,” Rick continued. “People with powers over the elements were the most dangerous. Make no mistake, it was a systematic genocide and that magic was almost lost. Those natural talents are coming back, and the Order is worried plebs will rise up again.”

  “Well, I don’t control any of the elements, so, again, what does this have to do with me?”.

  “I know you didn’t go to the academy, but didn’t you learn about the pentacle? The five points of the star: Earth, Water, Fire, Air and Spirit. The elements of the magical world?” He spoke to me as if I were simple minded, and at that moment I felt incredibly dense.

  When he said “elements,” I immediately thought science, not magic. Spirit was at the top of the pentacle. It was the binding force that ran through all matter. It’s the source of witches’ power. Empathy was all about the control of the human spirit. It’s what allowed me to touch the emotional core of another person and read auras.

  “I’ll give you that. So, I’m supposedly part of the next great generation of witches.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t believe a word of that, but I’d play along for now. “King included you, too. So what’s your super power? Please tell me you can control fire. I’m getting cold, and I’d love it if the fireplace was on.” I rubbed my hands together, extending them toward the hearth for effect.

  Rick seemed amused by my jest. He raised his hand and pointed to the fireplace, and I almost expected fire to spring up from the logs. When nothing happened, I pouted.

  He laughed and shook his head. "You’re really too easy. Sorry to disappoint," he said. "But how about this?" He flicked of his hand toward the other end of the living room. A clapping sound ripped through the space, and the club chair across the room lifted five feet into the air and fell with a bang.

  The grin he flashed me sent a shiver down my spine. It was a cross between Willy Wonka and Victor Frankenstein.

  “Cool, huh?”

  I placed a hand over my mouth to hide my shock. Waves of power reverberated through the room. A working that powerful usually took several people and a circle. I lowered my hand and clutched my coffee cup. I couldn’t stop looking between him and the chair. What could I say? Did that mean everything he’d told me was true?

  “You can understand why the Order recruited me before I graduated from the academy.” Rick smiled, his eyes twinkling with pleasure. He was enjoying my reaction.

  “How did you do that?” It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing I could think to say.

  “Old magic. Control over the air. That?” He nodded toward the chair. “That’s just a parlor trick.”

  I had a hundred questions, but I wasn’t sure where to start. Why didn’t more people know about this? Did that really mean there were people out there that controlled the other elements? What did this mean about my powers? Approaching footsteps interrupted our conversation.

  Charlie came into the room. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and I knew something was up. She took in the entire space, her gaze pausing briefly on the overturned club chair before coming to rest on me. When I didn’t respond she looked to Rick, who was equally silent.

  Nonplussed, Charlie turned to me and said, “Molly’s waking up and I want you to be there. I think you can help keep her”—she made air quotes—“calm. You know, in case she freaks out. It’s crucial she stays relaxed.”

  “I’ll be right there.” I set my mug on the table and looked at Rick. “I want to continue this conversation. But for now, why don’t you call Agent King. I don’t want him blowing a gasket because we didn’t keep him informed.”

  He nodded a bit in agreement as I left the room. I wanted to stay and finish our conversation, but Charlie needed me. My existential crisis would have to wait.

  TWELVE

  January seventeenth.

  I followed Charlie back to the clinic, down the long hallway that ended in a T; to the right was the treatment room, directly across the hall were the laboratory and supply closet, and to the left were the overnight suites. When Gran had the suites added, she wanted people to feel like guests, not patients. The walls were a warm, sunny yellow and the rooms were decorated in soft, welcoming colors. Unlike in a traditional hospital, there were no bright lights or beeping monitors.

  When I walked in the door, I found Molly sound asleep in the middle of the queen-size bed. I eyed Charlie suspiciously.

  “I thought you said she was waking up?”

  “I meant to say she’d be waking up soon.” Charlie shrugged off the disconnect. “I was worried. I felt that pulse of power, and I was afraid something was going on. Things felt a little intense between you and Rick, so I thought you might need an out.”

  No matter how annoyed I was that our conversation had been interrupted, I couldn’t get mad at Charlie for trying to rescue me. Even though everything in my world seemed to be on shaky ground, I knew I could always count on her. I hugged her. “I love you.”

  “So something did happen and you did need the excuse.” Her smile was smug and self-satisfied.

  I shook
my head and chuckled. “No, I actually wanted to stay and finish that conversation. Sorry. But I’m glad you came. I could use your take on Rick. He was making some outlandish claims. Do you trust him?”

  “I guess it depends on what you mean by trust. Are you talking about trusting him enough to have wild monkey sex, or trusting him enough to propose to him?”

  I rolled my eyes, my patience wearing thin. “I’m trying to be serious.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hall, leaving the door open a crack. “I want your honest opinion. I can’t tell if he’s some nut job with wild conspiracy theories or if what he says is true. He’s got this whole theory about the Order keeping track of people with natural talents.”

  “And? Don’t look so surprised. It’s exactly what the Order does.”

  “So, is this you believing him like you believe in Bigfoot? Or do you believe him? You honestly think there’s this grand conspiracy by the Order to catalog our powers?”

  “It doesn’t have to be a grand conspiracy. So the Order is tracking witches, that’s not news. They’ve been doing that for as long as there’s been an Order. Back when they were a secret organization, they were all about influencing the world from behind the scenes. Now that they’re the public face of witches, the Order has to present a positive face to the rest of the world, but they’re like any other political group. They have an agenda.”

  “If you know something, anything, please tell me. I’m tired of feeling like the ignorant small-town girl.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. What do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t you start with that cryptic message you gave me the other day. You couldn’t have been more vague. Isn’t there anything else you can tell me?” I wasn’t sure she’d give me anything. Charlie took her gift seriously and believed too much foreknowledge was dangerous. Today I needed more, so I dug deep and played the only card I had left. “Charlie, I really need my friend right now. My family.”

  She began with a long-suffering sigh. “This accident, these charms... A hornet's nest has been kicked. A spotlight has been dropped right on top of your head, and you can’t hide anymore."

  “I’m extremely tired of people saying that. I’m not hiding. I’m just living my life. It shouldn’t matter that I didn’t go to an academy or that I’m not versed in Order policies. I have a life here. A life I've worked hard to build. I’m not hiding!” I stomped my foot for emphasis.

  I hadn’t realized I had been yelling until a loud crash sounded from Molly’s room. She must have woken up, and the first thing she heard was people yelling outside her door.

  Grabbing the doorknob, I glanced at Charlie in apology. “Shit. I’m sorry. Can we finish this later?”

  “Later.”

  I exhaled slowly and opened the door. Evidently today was the day of unfinished conversations and unanswered questions.

  When we entered the room, the bed was empty, and Molly was nowhere in sight.

  “Molly?” When I reached the other side of the room, I saw her huddled in the corner like a child hiding from a monster. “Molly? Are you okay? Do you remember me from last night? My name is Olivia. I’m here to help.” Reaching out with my senses, I squatted down to her level. I felt her fear envelop me, sharp and icy, as it filled the room.

  “Molly. My friend Charlie is a healer and we’re here to help. We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.”

  I gathered power and sent out a wave of calming energy. Safe. Calm. Relax. Her breathing slowed, and I could see some of the tension leave her muscles. She finally turned around and looked at me. She may have been less afraid, but I couldn’t get too close, not yet.

  “You were in a car accident. Do you remember? You were badly injured, but my friend Charlie took care of you. You can trust us.” I extended my hand slowly and pushed out another wave of power. Trust. Safe. I waited for her to make the first move.

  After what seemed like minutes, she took my hand. I couldn’t help but sigh with relief. I didn’t want to cause the girl any more trauma, and I was glad she seemed calmer than the other night. But just to be sure, I kept a steady stream of calming energy focused in her direction.

  “Why don’t we get you back into bed? You’ll be more comfortable there. Can you stand up?” I asked.

  Molly looked from me to Charlie and shook her head. I waved Charlie over to give me a hand, and we managed to pick her up and get her settled. Giving her a moment to adjust, I went to the bathroom to get a glass of water.

  She looked like a different girl from the one I’d rescued last night. The color was back in her cheeks, and there was a sharpness in her hazel eyes. After giving her a once-over, I felt my own tension leaving. I hadn’t realized how worried I had been before this moment. My rash behavior last night could have permanently injured Molly. Possibly killed her. Seeing her now, whole, I knew I had made the right decision.

  “Molly, how are you feeling?” Charlie asked, sitting on the side of the bed. She reached out to touch her shoulder, but Molly flinched. Holding her hands up, Charlie said, “It’s okay. I won’t touch. But can you tell me if you’re in any pain?”

  Molly shook her head, still not saying a word.

  “You can talk to us. It’s fine,” I said.

  Again a shake of her head.

  “The people who took you, they can’t hurt you now. You’re safe. I removed the collar, so they can’t control you anymore. I promise.”

  Molly reached up and gingerly touched her neck where the collar had once been. A loud sob escaped her lips, and she stared up at me with a haunted look. “You removed it?” She covered her mouth and began to cry.

  Without saying another word, she grabbed my arm and buried her face in my shirt. Sobs wracked her small frame. I rubbed her back and just let her cry. The relief pouring from her hit me square in the chest. All her earlier fears were being extinguished.

  When her sobbing had run its course, I asked, “Molly, do you remember the accident? Can you tell me what happened?”

  I knew Agent King would have to question her about the abduction, but I wanted to have her statement on the coroner’s report before I filed it tomorrow.

  “Scott ordered us not to talk to strangers before we left Indianapolis.” She laughed bitterly and sat back to look at me. “The idiot didn't tell us we couldn’t talk to each other. When he stopped for gas, we came up with a plan.”

  She stopped to wipe some tears from her face. Anger bubbled up inside her, and I laid a hand on her back to lend support. “He kept the ring, the one he was using to control us, in his bag. We thought Sarah could get the ring, and I was going to hit him with one of the empty bottles in the back seat when he got back in the car. But Sarah didn't find the ring soon enough, and we had to wait. As we drove further from town, I think she got desperate. She grabbed the bag after he pulled off the highway, and I hit him. It was the only thing I could think to do. I didn’t know we’d drive off the road. I didn’t know Sarah would die.”

  Fresh tears began to fall and guilt poured from her. This was something I recognized. Immediately, I switched into undertaker mode.

  “Molly, it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.” I tried to soothe.

  “Yes, it was. I was the one who caused it.”

  “No, honey. He took you against your will. You did what you had to do. Sarah did what she had to do. Why don’t you tell me about her?” It’s one of the universal truths in dealing with death: remembering is cathartic. Molly began telling me about Sarah and their friendship. She talked about their school days and the trouble they’d gotten into. She told me about Sarah’s parents and how they had practically adopted her. She talked about their dreams.

  “We planned so much of our life together. We were both going to try and get a job at a potion shop. She was good enough to go to an academy, but she wouldn’t without me. I’m not sure what to do now,” she said.

  I squeezed her hand gently. “You’ll go on, just like Sarah would want you to.”

 
I knew her road was going to be hard, but I could already feel the healing taking place. It was hard to see the big picture at sixteen.

  “Molly, you need to rest,” Charlie said. “I know you’re feeling better, but you still need time to recover.”

  “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “I’ll stay if you want me to,” Charlie said.

  “I don’t want to be alone. Do you think you could call my mom? I really want to go home.” At that moment, she looked every bit the child she still was.

  “Of course we’ll call your mom,” Charlie said. “But right now I want you to promise me you’ll rest some, and when you wake up we’ll try some food.” Charlie got up from the bed and moved over to the chair with her knitting. "I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  That was my cue to leave the room. I headed to the kitchen to get a cup of tea. Rick had made himself scarce, so I took my mug and a few cookies and shuffled to the library. Instead of solitude I found Rick, in the corner of the room, reading a book entitled Metaphysics and Magical Backlash.

  Having spent the afternoon helping Molly through her grief, I was in a sour mood. “I’m glad to see you’re making yourself at home. Please, don't let me interrupt you.”

  “I love your library. Did you say you had some extra bedrooms? Are you taking in boarders?” He set the book down and flashed me that easy smile of his that could melt butter. “I’ve always been a city guy, but I could learn to love the country.”

  I chose to ignore the comment and flopped into the seat next to him. Despite my need for solitude, I was secretly pleased he was here. The room seemed fuller, less isolated. More like a room for sharing and discussion and less like the fortress of solitude I’d made of it. I noticed the fire was lit and wondered if that was a response to my earlier comment. I curled up in the chair and enjoyed the heat against my skin, sipping my tea.