I stare blankly at him until he points at something in front of me. When I look up, I find we are standing in front of a statue of a beautiful white angel. I know then, without reading my mother’s name engraved along the stone, what Julien means. I suck in a breath and clutch the flowers tightly in my hand.
“I can give you a moment.”
“No,” I plead. “Please, stay with me.”
Emotions tighten my chest. I’m shaky when I kneel down in front of the statue, running my fingers across her name and the year of her death. “Everything has been so crazy. I didn’t think to ask if she was buried nearby.”
I feel him close behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He leans forward, placing a chaste kiss against my neck. It’s comforting.
Tears streak my cheeks, and Julien falls to his knees, hugging me against his chest. With slow, precise movements, I arrange the blossoms along the bottom of the gravestone. When I speak, I do not look to the ground but rather to the sky. “I forgive you. I forgive you for not coming after me and not calling me back here sooner.”
My voice cracks, and I know I can never say everything that I need, not now when the emotion is still so raw inside me. All the stories, the lectures, the mending can wait until another day. So, instead, I say the one thing I want to tell her most of all. “I love you too. Always.”
My fingers leave the flowers, and I turn around, burying my tears against Julien’s chest. He rocks me back and forth, soothing me as the night falls deeper into darkness around us. He eventually falls back on the ground, pulling me to sit in his lap. He whispers my name, coaxing me to look up at him. “I chose this place for a reason,” he explains.
“What do you mean?”
“I know a spell. A very old spell that might help us figure out what happened to your mother.”
I look up at him, my eyes swollen and red. “A spell. I can’t do spells.”
“You are an Innocent. You are capable of being many things.”
I study him for a moment, deciding whether or not to believe him. “What kind of spell is it?”
He pushes my hair away from my face. “When I lived in Charleston before my mother’s death, I used to play along the streets outside one of the cemeteries. One night, on a dare, I hopped the fence. As I prowled through the rows of mausoleums, I suddenly came face to face with an old woman. She had dark skin, wrinkles around her lips from years of laughter, and she wore a distinctive purple hat with yellow feathers. That night, I met Priscilla DeMarci.”
I stare at him, waiting patiently for his story to make sense to me. “Priscilla was a ghost. Her spirit was revealed by a spell performed by her great-great-granddaughter. She was one of the Innocent.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes. After the initial shock, and Priscilla’s revelation that I also am not entirely human, she became my friend.”
“You think we might be able to find my mother’s spirit,” I say, sensing the doubt in my own voice.
“It worked for her granddaughter.” He shrugs. “It’s worth a shot, right?”
I scramble to my feet. “And you know this spell?”
He stands, dusting himself off. “Of course. I wouldn’t have dragged you all this way for nothing.”
He holds up his finger, signaling for me to wait. He walks over to an adjoining grave and picks up some dirt off the top. “You need dirt forged through sorrow,” he explains, holding his hand out for me to see. “And then you add a drop of blood, your blood because you’re the one with the magic.” Then he flips his hand over, clenching the dirt inside his fingers. “You turn it over, one, two, three times and then...” He holds his hand up to his lips, opens his palm, and blows against the dirt.
My eyes rise, waiting for something to happen, but he only laughs. “Well, obviously, it won’t work for me.” He grins. “But you get the idea.”
“Okay,” I say, rethinking the steps back over in my mind. “Dirt, well, that’s easy.” My stomach churns with distrust as I go on. “It’s the blood part that worries me.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he says harshly, as if I’ve offended him. He backs away from me, putting several feet between us.
“So you didn’t bring a knife?”
He looks angry with himself. He pulls out the blade, flips it around, and holds it out to me, handle first. “I also don’t cut people.”
I back farther away from the knife. “Neither do I.”
He rolls his eyes. “You have to do it, Wilhelmina. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
His lips tighten. “I just told you what happened the last time someone tried to take a knife to an Innocent. Forgive me for being cautious.”
“You’re lying.” His eye twitches with each word, his normally calm features nothing more than a bundle of nerves. “It’s something else.”
“I told you. I have nothing to hide.”
“Then do it.” I hold out my wrist, daring him. “If it’s really only a matter of choice for you to be good, and you can control yourself, then cut me.”
His brows knot together as he studies me. “You’re testing me,” he accuses bitterly.
I give a noncommittal shrug.
He throws the knife on the ground. “Do not tempt me, Wilhelmina Daniels. You won’t like what you find.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So it’s not a choice. With the right motivation, you could lose control.”
His eyes flash red. “I am not my father.” He forces himself to relax, to look me straight in the eye. “I do have a choice, and I will never choose—”
“Show me.”
“What?” Just like that, he loses himself to the anger again.
“Show me. If what you say is true, that you have a choice,” I hold out my hand toward him, “show me the other side of you. Prove me to me that you have complete control.”
I don’t have time to react, because I’m falling to the ground before I even notice Julien has turned around. I hit the earth softly with his hands beneath my head. However, his touch is gentler than his stare. “I will not hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing with the anger they only hinted at before. “I would not lie about that.”
His body is on top of mine, pressing just enough weight on me to make me take notice of exactly how good it feels.
“Words mean nothing to me.” I give a shove, but he doesn’t move. Not even a little bit.
He shakes his head. “Anger isn’t the key, Wilhelmina. If you’re trying to pull it out of me, pissing me off won’t accomplish anything. You would have to physically assault me. I told you the story. If you really want to see that side of me, you know the easiest way to do it.”
My stomach heaves. I do know. Julien’s family is plagued by lust. If I want to trigger that side of him, I know exactly what it will take. However, I’m not sure if I want to see that part of him.
Or maybe I’m afraid I will like it.
He senses my hesitation. “It’s okay. I will always be in control. I just might not be as polite as normal.”
When I hesitate again, he smiles and starts to pull back. “You’re not ready,” he says, but I beat him to the punch.
My finger touches his jaw, tracing a line to his neck. I cup my hand around his back and ease him forward. His steady frame glides over me, resting perfectly on top of me. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.
I stop him when his lips brush mine, leaning forward to place a single chaste kiss at the nape of his neck. He laughs, a deep hearty sound. His hand touches my shoulder, pushing me back against the ground.
“See what you cause.” His voice is teasing, but his teeth are sharper now, his accent more defined as his words flow like velvet from his lips. “You and your sexy festive boots.”
His hands grip the edge of my shirt into a fist, and I suck in a breath.
“I have to give it to you, though. No woman as ever garnered this reaction from me so easily. Color me impressed.”
This isn’t Ju
lien.
Everything about this Julien is wrong. That gentle, hurt look in his eyes is gone, replaced by a coldness that sends a shiver up my spine.
“You’re still in control?”
“Definitely.”
He pins my hands behind me. I jerk them free and scoot out from underneath him. “Not you. My Julien.”
He laughs again, his voice lovely and distracting. “Oh, is that what you think? I am your Julien now? You really should have listened to my story more closely.”
“Answer my question.”
He flashes his sharp teeth at me in a perfect, seductive smile. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Not convinced.”
He shrugs. “That’s your issue. Not mine.”
He picks up the knife, twirls it around in his hand with more ease and grace than before, and holds it out to me. I shake my head. “You do it.”
His brows rise in intrigue. “Well now, aren’t you a brave little minx?”
“So I should be scared of you?”
He closes the distance between us, his arm guiding my hip against his own. His free hand takes my wrist to his mouth, but he doesn’t bite. Instead, he replicates the kiss I gave him. Delicate and sweet. “Yes, Wilhelmina. You should be scared of me, but not for your life.”
I swallow loudly, and he doesn’t laugh. He holds my stare; this time he’s serious. My heart gives a loud thud in my chest.
“Let’s get this over with.” I try to look away, but he holds me steady.
“Okay. Outdoors really isn’t my thing, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” He gives me a suggestive wink, and I shove him away.
“I meant the spell.”
“Oh, have a sense of humor.” His smile is wicked, yet perfect. “We both know you meant the spell.”
He brings my wrist back to his lips, his breath brushing across my skin before his gaze locks on mine. The knife gleams in his other hand as a spark of something worse than evil lights his eyes.
He waits for me to say something. I stare at the knife and then back to his cold stare.
“What’s your decision?” He bites his lips, spinning the handle of the knife in his palm. “Make it final. I won’t ask again.”
Chapter 10
BENDING THE RULES
“Cut me.”
Julien takes a step back. The black depth in his eyes vanishes. My Julien is back. The deliberation is evident on his face, and my confidence in him grows. “I’ve never—” He begins to stutter, but he stops himself short, returning to his thoughts.
“You’ve never cut anyone before,” I finish for him.
“I’ve never hurt anyone. I’m not my father.” Then, without looking at me, he kisses my hand. “I also promised I would never purposely hurt you.”
Truth rings in his words, so I add a little of my own. “I’m not worried about the actual cut, Julien, because that I can heal.” I look at his face again, making sure all trace of his alter ego is gone. “I’m concerned with the aftermath. Will Mr. Hyde resurface if you cut me?”
“That,” he says with a matter of fact tone, “isn’t a concern at all.”
I take in a long, even breath, calming my nerves. I want to trust him. I can think of a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t. All of them rattle off in my mind in Reid’s demanding voice, but none of them seems convincing enough. Above all, I secretly want to find out what happened to my mother. I know involving myself will only make matters worse, and it means putting my own life in danger, but all that doesn’t matter. I left my life behind to come here for her. Right now, that means I have to do whatever it takes to find out who took her from me, even if it means letting a monster cut me.
I look confidently at him. “Then what are we waiting for?”
“I’m waiting for you to change your mind,” he says, finally gazing up at me. “Or your knight in shining armor to run to your rescue.”
I lock my eyes with his. “I’m not a damsel in distress, Julien. I don’t require saving.”
He smiles at me, but the doubt is still there. “Are you sure about this?” I can see the hope in his eyes that I might say no.
I’m tired of debating it. I’ve made my decision, and now I am more focused on the reason we are doing this in the first place. “Just let me grab some dirt first,” I say, trying to hide the anxiousness in my voice. I pick up a hand full of dirt off a nearby grave and then cautiously offer Julien my other hand. He runs his fingers across my palm, outlining each crease as he breathes in.
“Remember, you have to turn it over three times before you release it.”
“I got it. Just make it quick.”
He looks at the knife and my hand again, hesitating. “I have to let him do it.”
I take a deep breath, then exhale, but it does nothing for my nerves. “I trust you.”
He laughs, and I flinch at the sinister undertone. “You should never trust the Haunted, chérie.”
I close my eyes. I don’t want to see that Julien again. I prepare for the worst and flinch when he nicks my palm. He releases me immediately. When I open my eyes, Julien is ten feet away, his hands in his hair. Struggling.
“Finish it,” he says, turning away.
I stare down at my blood-smeared hand, unable to convince myself I am even capable of performing magic. I open the hand that holds the dirt and let three drops of my blood trickle down into the center. I flip my wrist once, twice, and on the third time I feel the power surge inside me. I suddenly remember who I am and all the things I can do. I bring my closed fist up to my mouth, open my fingers, and blow out an array of crystal dust that floats through the air around us like a looming fog.
“Wow.” Julien’s voice sings behind me. “You really are one of the Innocent.”
I spin around. His battle is over. His Mr. Hyde is gone. He simply stands in amazement, no hint of supernatural ability about him, especially not a monster. I feel relieved.
I look back over my shoulder at the dust that is now disappearing in the distance. “What now?”
“First,” he says, slowly approaching me, “you need to heal yourself.”
I see the concern on his face and glance down at my hand. Blood leaks down my wrist to my elbow. I clench my fist, focusing on the lingering pain from the puncture site. I know I will never be able to completely remove the scar. Only someone as well practiced as Sera can do that, but I stop the bleeding. When I open my hand, a faint pink mark of fresh skin stares up at me underneath the drying blood.
I hold the evidence of my work up to Julien. “And second?”
He shrugs, coming over to inspect my hand for himself. “Now, we hunt down some ghosts.”
I automatically hum the Ghostbusters theme song.
He tugs me playfully back toward the entrance of the graveyard. I like this Julien much better.
I follow him, gracefully swerving through the graves, peeking around headstones, unsure of what I might find lurking on the other side. Darkness fades around us, and I begin to wonder if we’ll find anything at all. I am about to voice my pessimism when a sound rattles in the distance.
Julien turns too. He signals for me to listen again. I strain my hearing this time, trying to block out the typical sounds of nature crowding around us. I focus hard and wait. It’s laughter. I definitely hear someone laughing.
A slow smile creeps across Julien’s lips, and he motions me forward. I follow him back through the graves as the sound grows louder. I distinguish a child’s voice. Julien rounds one of the large stone mausoleums, pulling me to his side. I stare into the darkness, unaware of what has caught his attention. He points to the distant horizon, and sure enough, standing just below one of the low-hanging branches of a magnolia tree, is a little girl. Her figure is faint, but it’s easy to make out a tattered blue dress.
I freeze in shock. I’ve seen many oddities in my life, most of which were my creation, but this seems too unbelievable, even for me. “Walk slow,” Julien says over my shoulder, “and follow me.”
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Julien takes one step, and the girl turns to us, still smiling gleefully. It isn’t until Julien waves at her that it falters. We continue to slowly approach her, and her brow furrows. Julien waves again, and without a blink, she vanishes through the trees.
We sigh simultaneously, but when I turn around, another figure catches my eye. This figure is much larger than the little girl and a lot rougher around the edges. I tug on Julien’s sleeve, pointing at the man walking toward us. Julien speaks a greeting, but the figure doesn’t turn. In fact, it doesn’t even acknowledge our presence as it passes. It isn’t until the man drops to his knees at a nearby grave that I notice the uniform, a heavily worn gray material with a confederate flag sewn into the arm.
“He’s a soldier.” I watch as the man runs his bloody hands across the gravestone in front of him.
“He has no idea we’re even here.” Julien waves his arms as the soldier begins to weep.
“Why the difference?” I turn back to where the little girl disappeared in the trees. “She was frightened of us. She knew we could see her.”
Leaves rustle to my right, and I spin around to catch a glimpse of two sets of shining eyes through the dark trees. Julien grins. “We’re being watched.”
I squeeze Julien’s arm. “Stay here.”
I pick three small stones from the ground as I smile reassuringly toward the trees. I sit down, crossing my legs in front of me, and with one flick of my wrist, I begin juggling the three stones. They dance through the air without the assistance of my hands.
The eyes watch me, never blinking.
I let the stones fall into my palm and then hold them out toward the trees. “Do you want to try?”
Silence. The eyes still watch me, though.
“Okay, then.” I stand as if I’m preparing to leave. A child sprints out of the trees. It isn’t the same girl. This one is even younger. She can’t be older than five. She wears a similar dress, except it’s pink, which matches the marks that cover her body from head to toe.
Frog Hollow (Witches of Sanctuary Book 1) Page 11
