by J. C. Hart
"So, I kind of wish you were still around Gran. I need your gentle assurances." She laughed. Gran was not really that gentle, but she'd at least tell Alyssa to get her shit together. Not that it was her shit that was the problem right now. "I wish Mum had never found out. That you'd been able to teach me everything. At least then I might not feel so out of my depth. These people keep asking me to do things I know nothing about. They keep expecting me to be you, but I'm not."
Did she want to be? That was really the question. Did she know Gran as well as she thought she had? Or was her grandmother really a verging-on-psychopathic witch like the others—and was she doomed to follow in their footsteps?
And hell, did it even matter now? It wasn't like she had anything going for her. Alyssa sighed and rolled over onto her belly, folded her hands under her cheek. "Maybe there's something at the house that could tell me about the family. I don't want to be like Angie, or the woman who trapped Magnus, or the one who created a child for herself from the earth around here. What did you do? Was there something you did that I didn't know about?"
She pushed herself up and dangled her legs over the edge, kicking her shoes off so that she could feel the grass on her feet. Warmth radiated from the ground below, reminding her of the whole 'earth baby' thing. Seriously, who did that? And yet, she had always felt a connection, always felt in tune with its ebbs and flows. If the story was true, then it was in her blood and part of her magical heritage stemmed from a connection to Papatūānuku. Despite the way that had come about, she felt grateful. The thought comforted her. Kind of. And she'd take any small comfort she could get right now.
And, at least this visit had helped clear some turmoil from her mind. All things going well, Kelly would be gone when she got home, and Alyssa was making it her top priority to search the house for remnants of family history. In fact, there was a library in town and maybe that was a better way to go about it. She didn't dare ask Sam, who might actually know something, not after the way Alyssa had blown up at her earlier.
Seriously, what else could go wrong? At least she hadn't alienated Brandon. Yet. Only a matter of time though wasn't it? Alyssa cringed as she grabbed her shoes. "Catch ya later, Gran. Love you." At least that was still true. No matter what her grandmother might have done, the Gran Alyssa knew was loving and kind, and would have done anything for Alyssa. That was all that mattered.
She pushed open the door to the library, the familiar smell of old books hitting her nose despite the fact she'd never set foot in the building before. A small, wiry man looked up from the desk, as if surprised to see anyone there.
"Can I help you?" he asked, shuffling papers to the side.
"I'm looking for the local history section, like, old newspaper clippings and stuff. Do you have one here?" Alyssa approached the desk as he got up.
"Of course. Wouldn't be much of a library if we didn't keep that stuff. Anything in particular you're interested in? I'm a bit of a history buff. Not like there's much business here, so it passes the time." He headed for the back where there was a corner lined with books and filing cabinets, and a desk with a microfiche system and computer. "Everything you need is here. Do you want a hand?"
Alyssa steeled herself, half afraid that if she was straight with him he'd leap into some kind of speech about her family and their duty to the town. That said, she didn't want to be here too long, so she might as well get this over with. "I'm looking for some family history. My Grandmother was Constance Stewart, and our family has been here for a long time."
"Since the towns inception, actually. Your ancestors were fundamental to setting this place up." He switched on the microfiche machine and turned to the filing cabinet, fishing around in a few drawers. "I'm Del, by the way."
"Alyssa," she said. "I had no idea about that, about us helping start the town."
"Well, it was a long while back, and you're pretty new to town right?"
"You could say that."
He drew out several collections of film and laid them on the table. "If you start looking in here there should be some retrospectives of the town, and you might come across snippets of the family. Anything in particular?"
"No, not really. Just trying to get a feel for the place."
"All good. I'll leave you to it then. Just come and get me if you need a hand." He ducked his head slightly and wandered off. Alyssa watched him go, but he seemed to sink straight back into what he was doing when he got to his desk, not bothering to cast a single glance back at her.
"Okay then..." Alyssa sat down on the little wooden chair. It felt a lot like she was back in high school—which was probably the last time she'd used a microfiche, come to think of it. She looked through the dates and decided to start with the oldest, slotting it in and peering at the screen. It thunked as she clicked through each image on the film, scanning headlines, though it was an image that stopped her in her tracks.
God, she looked a lot like her relatives. Alyssa had always known that their family resemblance was strong—both her and her sister looked like their mother, who was a spitting image of Gran, but she'd never met her great grandmother, and photos had been sparse. This woman, despite being present in a grainy black and white image, could have been her mother. Her belly was swollen with pregnancy, and she looked on as a house was built. Her house, in fact, if she was reading it right. Was it really that old? Had it been in the family the entire time?
Far out. She'd had no idea. There had to be some relics floating around in the place then or at least some way to get the dirt on the women in her family.
And then she had a thought. She would have a séance. No-one else needed to know, but she was apparently a witch and didn't they do that kind of thing? Alyssa shot up from the seat, abandoning her search. She stopped at the desk on the way out. "Thanks, Del. I think I found what I came for. I left everything out though because I didn't want to put it back wrong. Is that okay?" She used her sweetest voice, and the small man gave her a warm nod.
"Not a problem, just come back if you need to know something more. No problem at all."
"Thank you!" She headed for the door, letting the wind wash away her concerns, and keeping her focus on what lay ahead.
Chapter Fourteen
Having decided to test out the waters, Brandon stopped in at the store for some more milk before heading to Alyssa's place. It was after eight, but he knew she would be up—and hopefully not too busy to have a drink with him.
He knocked on the door and when there was no answer pushed his ear against the wood. From the other side he could hear the thump of music, which meant she was home, at least. He cracked the door open and called out, "Hello, Alyssa?" When there was no response, he added, "Kelly?"
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he looked up to find Alyssa stomping down them, her head buried in a worn looking journal. "Don't say that name again, or I'll banish you from the house. I'm kind of good at that." When she looked up he could see that her pupils were slightly dilated.
"Um, okay? Whatcha doing?" He followed her into the lounge, stopping in his tracks when he saw the Ouija set on the floor. "Okay, I know what you're doing, but why are you doing it?"
"I need answers." She flopped down onto the couch, discarding the journal and reaching for a bottle of beer. She tilted it up, but there was nothing left in it so she frowned and plonked it back down.
"Well I can tell you that you won't find them in the bottom of a bottle." He made sure his tone was light as he sat down next to her. She flicked her bare feet up onto his lap and twirled a finger as if he were her slave.
"Can you? It's been one fucking bitch of a day, and I just don't know how much more I can take."
He couldn't help but laugh. "You have a rough day and immediately try to contact the dead? Well, that's a new one. You're one of a kind, Alyssa Stewart."
She frowned at him, focus filling her eyes. "I didn't tell you my surname."
"It's on the letterbox," he said quickly, then added, "and I did some look
ing around." He rubbed her feet, kind of absently, more interested in what she was saying than the task she'd set him. She was kind of paranoid, but then again, she had reason to be.
"Now the truth comes out. You stalking me or something?" She closed her eyes and settled further into the couch.
"Or something. You intrigue me." Brandon watched her and saw a slight flicker in her eyelids, but otherwise she played it cool. "So, who are you trying to contact?"
She withdrew her feet and crossed her legs, levelling a tired look at him. "Whoever the fuck will come." She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Someone from the family, probably. Things just suck right now, and I need some direction."
"Is Kelly going to help?" Brandon asked. It was risky, but he needed to know if the friend was still around.
"I killed her and buried her in the backyard. Maybe we should summon her?" Alyssa quipped.
"Ha ha. We?"
"You're here now, and you know my evil plan, so yes. We. Unless you're scared." She raised an eyebrow at him.
He couldn't help but laugh. This girl had no idea, none at all. With him in the room she was definitely going to bring something across, and he could guarantee she'd get whatever messages she wanted—whether that was a good idea or not was another matter. "Not scared. I've done this kind of thing before."
"Really?" She leaned toward him, eyes narrowing. "I thought only girls did this kind of thing."
"Well, I am not a girl, but I am in touch with my feminine side." He batted his long lashes at her and she reached out and smacked him on the arm.
"Come on then, give me a hand." She nodded to the set up on the floor. "Fix this for me. I googled it, but who knows if it's right."
He stood up and surveyed the lounge. "You've actually got it spot on." He nodded in approval. "The only thing missing is... Well, I think you should get me a beer." Alyssa rolled her eyes and he laughed. "Don't worry, I can get it myself."
"Good. We're not living in the dark ages you know."
He went to the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of the fridge. While it wasn't the best idea to contact the dead while drinking—in his opinion anyway—it would soften the blow of whatever it was she was trying to find out. And he was intrigued. She was not the average girl, that was for sure, but obviously she had some knack for her witchiness, or she wouldn't be so quick to have a séance.
Brandon passed the extra bottle to Alyssa, who was now sitting on the floor in front of the board. "You ready to do this?" he asked, settling in across from her.
"Sure am." She took a slug of her drink and set it down beside her. "Seeing as you're the pro, why don't you take it from here," she suggested.
"Not a pro, just a little more experienced than you."
"Okay, no need to rub it in."
"What do you want to know? Like, who are you trying to contact? You need to have your intentions clear before we do this."
Alyssa didn't say anything for a few minutes, just reached for her beer and took another drink. She bit her bottom lip, clearly struggling to figure out the answer to his question. "I want to talk to Magnus, but he's gone. I don't want to bug him. He might get pissy and come back to haunt me again."
"What?" His eyebrows rose. "Again?"
"Yeah, I thought you asked around?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Family of witches, blah blah blah, kept an ancient Viking shaman locked up across centuries and countries, forged a child from the earth. Magnus was the shaman, and he was kind of awesome. Unlike my ancestors."
It was Brandon's turn to sit in stunned silence. Mrs Nolan had focused primarily on Alyssa's Gran when she'd told him what the job was. She hadn't mentioned a ghost. "That's quite a story," he said carefully. She clearly came from a powerful line of witches, to accomplish so much, though her distaste for it was also obvious. "Why do you want to talk to someone?"
She looked up at him then and the confusion and loss present in her eyes hit him hard. "I know we don't know each other very well, and that was probably a lot to take in, but if there's one thing I've learned it's that things in the Bay are never as they seem. You're new here, and you might not know that just yet, or maybe that's why you're here. What would I know? But, someone wants me to take over my family’s duty, and I don't think I can do that."
He reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. He desperately wanted to tell her what he was, why he was here, but she'd never trust him if he told her that it was his job to make her do the things she didn't want to.
"Why?" he asked, settling for the lesser evil. Maybe if he knew her reasons he could find a way to convince her.
She gave a bitter laugh and shook her head. "You wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
Alyssa tugged on her earlobe—a move he was quickly coming to understand meant she was anxious, unsure—and appraised him. "A lot of bad shit has happened here. I mean, it feels bad to me. My Mum, perhaps wisely, pulled me out of Gran's life when she knew she was training me to take over, so I don't know anything really. Not about being a witch. Everything I do know makes me feel sick. Hearing the stories of what my ancestors did to get their way? I don't ever want to turn out like that." She shook her head. "There are things I want, and what if I go mad with power and try to get them, no matter the cost? I'm afraid, Brandon. Afraid of what I might become."
She dropped her head into her hands, soft sobs wracking her body. Brandon pushed aside the Ouija board and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. Her pain, her fear, radiated off her and he couldn't do anything about it. He knew well enough how tempting power was, how it changed a person.
"No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to," he whispered into her hair, hoping he could figure out a way to make that true.
Chapter Fifteen
When Alyssa woke she was pleased to find she wasn't alone. Brandon had been a complete gentleman—taking her to bed, and snuggling her through the night. It had been so long since she'd had the comfort of another body next to her, apart from a cat, that she felt emotionally wrecked. It was almost too much to stand someone being kind to her, being thoughtful, not wanting anything for themselves.
She didn't know whether she could trust it.
Slipping out from beneath his arm she admired his sleeping form. He was fully clothed, but his hair was mussed up, his beard ever so slightly thicker than it had been the day before. He must have to trim that thing every day to keep it under control, jeepers. That said, she did like a scruffy guy...
Alyssa shook that thought free and headed downstairs, humming to herself. Maybe things weren't going to be so bad. Not that anything specific had changed—they hadn't done the séance, she hadn't contacted her dead relatives, nor gotten any advice—but she believed Brandon when he said no one could make her do anything she didn't want to. And maybe that was enough. If he could believe it, couldn't she?
She put the jug on and popped some bread into the toaster, deciding to grab her phone and turn on some music while she waited. She'd not checked the thing since she'd put it in to charge and the first thing that popped up on the screen were the number of missed calls she had. Twelve. All from Kelly. Her nose stung but she squeezed it, refusing to let herself cry. Kelly and Grant had both betrayed her, and she couldn't think about them right now. Grant, well, he'd always been a little bit of a jerk, but she'd loved him. Kelly on the other hand had been her best friend for years and Alyssa couldn't believe that she'd been capable of this betrayal. It made her sick. The thought of them together now—of him living in her old apartment? Of the things they would be doing to each other?
The toast popped and she ate it dry, hoping it would quell the nausea rolling in her belly. Thinking of them wasn't going to change anything and she had more pressing issues. Like what to do about Mrs Nolan, whether she could really become a witch and do as was asked, and most importantly, how long she had until Brandon woke up so that she could make sure she'd brushed her teeth before then. They felt stale and gross after the beer l
ast night, and the toast wasn't doing anything to improve that situation.
She left her coffee steaming on the bench and nipped into the bathroom to deal with that, then made a second coffee, milk no sugar, though she put a cube on a saucer just in case, and took them back upstairs to the bedroom. Taking matters into her own hands would help.
"Hey, sleepy head," she said softly as she placed the cups on the bedside table. He didn't move when she sat on the edge of the bed, but when she gently shook him he murmured in his sleep. "What was that?"
"Please don't tell me its morning already?" He groaned. "Do I smell coffee?"
"You do." She passed him the cup with a grin. "Thank you for taking care of me last night. Knowing my luck, if you'd let me go ahead with the séance I'd have contracted a demon to take out my wrath on the unsuspecting."
He took a sip of the coffee and eyed her up, finally raising an eyebrow. "Are they really that unsuspecting?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Well, let's pray that I never get on your bad side." He laughed, though it sounded slightly nervous.
Alyssa cocked her head to one side, trying to figure him out. She huffed out a breath when she didn't think she could. Here was this hot guy, in her bed, making small talk and trying not to piss her off. He was more understanding than he had a right to be, and seemed to know far more about her than he should.
But right now, wasn't that a blessing? Sometimes you just had to take what you could get and run with it, because there was nothing else. And right now, her emotional tank was feeling pretty empty.
