I release my breath as I lean into him. He holds me like that, the bare minimum of contact between us, until finally he jerks away. “We need to go back to the tent.”
Again he doesn’t look at me.
I remember my wish from earlier today, when I pretended the locks on my windows meant Reid actually cared about me. Now, I know he cares. It isn’t as comforting and satisfying as I thought it would be. I step beside him but not close enough to touch him. “I’m sorry that you care.”
He looks down at me, the green shine finally back in his eyes. “Me too.”
He walks out of the store without looking back.
Chapter 9
A HISTORY LESSON
The rain beats loudly against the metal roof of the bookstore, followed by faint flashes of lightning through the window. Normally, thunderstorms make me feel gloomy. I’d want nothing more than to cuddle up in my bed and have a Jonathan Rhys Meyer marathon kind of day. However, there is something about today—this place makes everything around it ignite with energy, including myself.
I hum softly to the music on the radio, focusing my attention and obsessive energy on reorganizing one of the long rows of bookshelves. I use my powers, of course, because it seems to make the time go by. I can always use the practice too. I feel comfortable here, by myself, with nothing but the books to muddle my thoughts. I laugh when I hear Romeo ding the bell on the counter, because he’s been playing with the thing for the past hour. I decide, in that moment, that it was a good idea to let him tag along for the day, especially since business is slow due to the weather.
After lunch, when the worst of the storm has passed, I curl up with Romeo in one of the comfy chairs next to the window and watch it rain. Today he is gray. Abby says he does that when he leaves Frog Hollow as if he understands that he needs to play the part of a normal cat. He purrs against my hand as I cuddle into the soft cushions. I sit there gazing into space for what feels like forever. I start counting the raindrops as they leak down the glass just for something to do.
Honestly, I simply want an excuse to think about anything other than Julien. The time we spent together yesterday was unforgettable, but it was the warning Reid gave me afterward that still makes my pulse race. Once we left the bookstore and attended to all our customers at the festival, he finally broke down and explained the rationality behind his fear.
According to Reid, the Haunted are vicious people. They’re all cursed. Julien and his family is no exception. Consumed by lust, their charm and charisma come as naturally as breathing. Eternally blinded by ambition, they’ll do anything to get what they want, even killing the one they’ve conned into loving them. Dating the devil is safer than trusting a Cote with your heart.
Reid is quite the storyteller. However, just as Julien predicted, Reid barely acknowledged the Prescotts, mentioning something about greed and atoning for their family’s past mistakes. Essentially, whatever crimes the Prescotts committed, the town has given them a moral pass.
I try to remind myself that if Julien wanted me dead, I’d already given him the prime opportunity. We were alone, and I was unarmed. At least, I was as defenseless as someone with my capabilities can be. It was the perfect scenario. Except Julien’s intention was merely to change my perspective of him, the one he was convinced Reid would insist upon.
Chills still run down my spine as I recall Reid’s deep voice, echoing between us in the quiet space underneath the tent. Everyone knows about me now. It’s only a matter of time before they come looking for me. The Haunted are not to be trusted, not now, not ever. My life depends on it.
I sink into the deep cushions of the chair, thinking about it. I want to learn more about the Haunted and who could be behind my mother’s death, but more importantly, I want to live long enough to figure it out. I close my eyes, Romeo stuffing his entire body between my back and the chair. The doorbell rings insistently behind us. “A customer.” Romeo pops his head up, and I smile at him. “Finally!”
I straighten myself up to look presentable. However, when I turn around, no one is there. I stare at the empty doorway, watching as the bell continues to tremble.
“Hello?” I step into the aisle, but it’s empty too.
It isn’t until Romeo lets out an evil hiss that I whip around to find Julien sitting in the seat I vacated. I scurry back away from him, grabbing onto the counter to put some kind of barrier between us. Julien doesn’t notice my reaction, though. Instead, he watches Romeo scratch his paw into the air with another hiss.
“I don’t think your cat likes me.”
“He doesn’t like men,” I reply, but my voice is strained.
Julien turns to look at me. His shiny black hair is damp from the rain, along with his crisp white dress shirt. His beauty is sharp and fatal.
He assesses me for a long moment, noticing how my hand continues to tremble despite my best effort. He loosens the silk tie around his neck with increased frustration. “You believed him, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I stare at my hands on the counter, unable to look him in the eye. I don’t want to believe Reid. He’s the last person on Earth I want to admit is right about something. However, at some point, survival instincts have to count for something.
Julien’s face falls. It’s quite possibly the most tragic thing I’ve ever experienced. “I thought I made it clear that you shouldn’t believe everything he tells you about me.”
I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. I remind myself I’m not some helpless young girl. I am an Innocent. I have powers. I can stop him if needed.
“So you’re not a lust-driven, murderous monster?” I ask casually. Romeo crosses the room in a flash and hops gingerly up on the counter.
“No,” he says flatly. He stands, stepping toward me only an inch. “Not unless I want to be.”
Hearing the words from his mouth changes everything. I believed Reid when he told me, but the truth didn’t hit home until now. There really is a curse. There are more people like me. I’m not the only freak in the world.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me. If it should, well then, you should have told me sooner.”
“I tried.” He steps closer again, and I grip the counter. “I ran out of time, remember? But that’s why I am here now. I want to explain the truth to you.”
“So I’ll trust you?” I ask. “So you can charm your way into my life and use me for whatever ill-contrived purpose you have planned?”
Julien’s eyes close, a pained expression encompassing his face. “He really does hate me,” he says to himself. Then, without opening his eyes, he continues. “You’ve been thoroughly misinformed, Miss Daniels. Like I said, I am not a monster unless I want to be.”
“You’re one of the Haunted. You’re evil.”
“I have a choice,” he says, opening his eyes to stare at me. “Trust me. It makes a world of difference.”
Romeo paces on the counter in front of me, keeping a watchful eye on Julien. I glance up at the clock on the wall.
It’s only five minutes before time to close and only six minutes before Abby will swing by to pick me up for dinner. He looks at the clock too, his words rushing out of his mouth. “I’ll talk fast,” he says, pleading. “If you will listen.”
I don’t answer, but I lean down on the counter, placing my chin in the palm of my hand. Julien takes it as a sign and begins blurting information out at me. “My father, François Cote, is a monster. He’s one of the Haunted,” he says. “And everything Reid probably told you about me totally applies to him. He killed my mother while I slept in the next room. I live with my grandparents on Raven Ridge, safely away from my father’s influence.”
“Why?” I throw my hands in the air. “Explain to me how you’re not like him.”
He moves to the edge of the counter, his eyes like steel. “Like I said—I have a choice. The book I bought, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, that’s me and Ezekiel. Except we have a choice. We can choose to always be the g
ood guy.”
“And your father can’t?”
“Our fathers bear the full force of the curse. My father is consumed by lust and violence, and Ezekiel’s father is plagued by greed and power. They’d kill for it. They’d kill us all for it.”
I try not to show the shot of fear I feel. “Have you ever killed someone?”
He looks me dead in the eye without blinking. “No. Never.”
I glance up at the clock again. Our time is up. I hurry around the counter, passing by him to turn the sign in the window and then hit the lights. The room falls dark, only the hint of lights from outside distinguishing the small separation between our bodies.
“Do you know who killed my mother?”
He steps toward me but stops short. “No. But I may know a way to help you figure it out.”
“How?”
He shakes his head. “We don’t have time. May I come to Frog Hollow tonight?”
I shake my head this time. “That is not a good idea.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he says desperately. “I want to help. I know what it’s like to lose someone, to feel helpless against it. Please, Wilhelmina, trust me enough for this.”
I bite my lip as I cross my arms over my chest. Here I am again, choosing between my own curiosity and the people I choose to love. I grit my teeth. It’s a no-win situation. “Be there at dusk,” I whisper, and then I look up at him so he can note the seriousness of my next statement. “And if this is some kind of trick, I will kill you.”
He only nods. “I would expect you to.”
***
Later that evening, I sit on my front porch, swinging with Romeo in my lap. The sun is setting behind me, and the last of the clouds move to reveal a faint crescent moon. My fingers absently play with my own moon, dangling from my necklace. I think about my opposing half, the person who will be my sun, and remind myself to ask Sera when the next revelation ceremony will be.
“Always so lost in thought.” Julien’s amused voice echoes in the distance, and I look up to see him sitting on the railing at the end of the porch.
This time I don’t jump. I’m becoming accustomed to his sudden appearances. “Is that a Haunted thing?” I ask, standing. “Appearing out of thin air.”
He shrugs. “I’m stealthy when I want to be.”
He meets me halfway, in front of my front door. He sticks his hands in his pockets and bites his bottom lip suggestively. “You going to invite me in?”
I chuckle under my breath. “Hell no.” I lean in, my lips close enough to brush against his cheek. “I may be gullible, but I’m not naive.”
He returns my smile. “I didn’t think so.” Then he sticks his foot out, showing a pair of muddy brown boots. “That’s why I wore these. I suggest if you’re planning on following me, you might want to change into something similar.”
I look down at my bright and shiny sandals, frowning. “Where am I following you to, exactly?”
“Just put on some real shoes,” he says, laughing. “I’ll wait out here.”
I run inside, kicking off my sandals as I climb the stairs. I dive into my closet, throwing out random pairs of shoes, because honestly, I have at least thirty pairs scattered in a tub that waits to be sorted out. Finally, at the very bottom, I find a pair of rubber boots. I bought them, not because they are pretty, an array of yellow, purple, and pink swirls, but out of necessity back in college. I used to stomp through the water in them, on my way to class, to keep the bottom of my jeans dry. I pull them on, catching my reflection in the mirror. They look kind of silly with my denim shorts, but I don’t really have a better option.
I run back downstairs, locking the door behind me as I step out onto the porch. Julien appraises me, a smile biting at the corner of his lips when he spots the boots. “Festive,” he says, trying not to laugh.
I roll my eyes as I stick my key in my pocket. “Lead the way,” I say, motioning toward him. He holds his hand out to me.
When I don’t move, he reaches forward and takes it. “I don’t bite. Geez.” He pulls me off the porch.
I follow him down the long driveway, bypassing his muddy black Jeep, and turn left at the edge of the road. “So now can you tell me where we are going and why?”
His hand tightens around mine. “No, and you’ll see when we get there.”
I stop, jerking us to a sudden halt in the middle of the road. “That isn’t the answer I’m looking for.”
He sighs, coaxing me forward. “I know, but how about I tell you something else until we get there? It really isn’t that far.”
I frown at him, but I can’t say no to the pleading look he gives me. “Okay,” I say. “I do have some other questions, if you don’t mind me asking those.”
He grins over at me, pleased. “Go for it, chérie.”
“Today, you said your father is one of the Haunted. How did it happen?” I ask, remembering his explanation. “How did we all become this way?”
He looks at me, confused. “Reid tells you I’m a sex-crazed murderer, but he didn’t tell you about the legend?” I shake my head, and he frowns. “Figures.”
“This is your chance,” I remind him. “I’m listening.”
He pulls me into his side, the toes of his worn boots kicking the rocks along the dirt road. “There was a time in Sanctuary’s history when land meant power. Land was your currency. It was your reputation. It was everything.” He takes in a deep breath, his long lashes batting as he slows his breathing, as if this story is difficult. “Three families divided everything outside of the city limits. All of them were wealthy, and all were equally determined to destroy the others for one purpose. More power.”
I’m suddenly reminded of Julien’s geography lesson from the cliff’s edge. How the property lines of Frog Hollow, Raven Ridge, and Shadow Bend all join together like three slices of a very large mountain pie. Except Frog Hollow is twice the size of the other two portions.
“When an ailing widow, Alphine Daniels, adopted two daughters to inherit Frog Hollow upon her death, Luther Prescott, of Shadow Bend, convinced the young Estelle Cote of Raven Ridge that it was time they took matters into their own hands. Luther planned to marry Estelle, combining Raven Ridge and Shadow Bend, which meant, to gain the ultimate power they both sought, they needed to dispose of the young girls. Without Daniels heirs, Luther and Estelle would use their combined wealth to outbid any opposition when Frog Hollow was auctioned off.”
“That’s horrible,” I say mildly, treading lightly not to offend Julien’s family.
“It is horrible,” he agrees, squeezing my hand. “And it gets worse. One summer night at dusk, when the sun and the moon shined together in the sky, Luther Prescott and Estelle Cote found the two young girls playing just inside the borders of Frog Hollow. Violence. Greed. Lust. It consumed them both to their very cores. Just as they stepped into the light to complete their evil deed, something happened.”
We both pause. “What happened?”
It’s almost dark now as Julien veers us off the road and through a thicket of trees to our right. “You’ll get a different version depending on what eager gossipmonger you ask in this town. Truth is, we don’t know what happened that night, except those two girls, the Innocent, were given powers so they’d never fear an adversary ever again.”
Julien gazes over at me, and I point a shaky finger at myself.
He nods and continues. “Luther and Estelle weren’t so lucky. From that night forward, Luther would be a slave to his own greed, wasting away into a madman, blinded by his own fruitless ambitions, as would every son who followed after him.”
My eyes widen as I whisper Ezekiel’s name.
“And finally,” Julien says, his voice even and flat, “Estelle would be a slave to her own lust, plagued by unrequited infatuation, leading her to kill the one she loves most.”
“And every heir after her?” I guess.
He’s quiet. I know I’m right. We step out of the thicket of trees into an open area. I
look around, my eyes homing in on a large iron gate in the distance, and I realize Julien has led me to a cemetery. I’m surprised, not by the destination, but by the end of his story.
“We are all products of the curse,” he says with a hasty sigh. “We’re just on different ends of the spectrum. However, I am no more a monster than Ezekiel.”
I sigh, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “It all makes sense now,” I say. “There were two girls, two lines of descendants.” I absently play with the necklace around my neck again, still wondering about my other half.
It seems almost surreal to think I am somehow linked to this legend, that Julien’s ancestors wanted to kill mine. I wonder if my mother’s death is somehow connected to the story and if that’s the reason why Reid distrusts Julien so much. I look at him, trying to decide how much I trust him. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I want to show you something.” He pushes open the creaking gates. “However, we need to wait until dark.”
I slip inside the gate and take his hand, freely this time.
“I know a good spot.”
I follow him, tiptoeing around the graves. Each one is outlined with tall, ornate statues, and some even hold mausoleums. I stumble, catching myself against his arm, but he is quick to steady me.
“Be careful. The ground is uneven. Just follow behind me.”
We continue through the long rows of graves, climbing steadily over a small hill and down into an open valley beneath. The light of the moon shines against the pale gravestones, making it seem as if each one is glowing. Julien begins to slow down, allowing me to inch up closer behind him. He pulls me around to his side. “I’m guessing you haven’t been here yet?”
“No.”
He squeezes my side, motioning for me to stand still. He walks over to one of the old magnolia trees outlining the fence and plucks two white blooms from a low-hanging branch. As he walks back toward me, he holds his arm out, and I rush to him. He sees the confusion on my face and gently places the flowers in my palm. “There is something we need to do first,” he says. “Something someone should have brought you to do already.”
Frog Hollow (Witches of Sanctuary Book 1) Page 10
