The defeated immortal Andrew Scott had vowed to help him if he needed. Time to call in that favor.
14
Dismals Canyon
Dismals witches cavern. Over half a million hits. It was a real place, and it was in . . . Alabama.
Callie clicked on the first hit—a video.
A green, primordial forest appeared, surrounded by towering boulders. The canyon was once a hideout for famous outlaws like Vice President Aaron Burr after killing Treasurer Alexander Hamilton in a duel. Jesse James vanished among the rock crevices to escape capture by authorities, and Federal forces imprisoned the Chickasaw people there before marching them down the Trail of Tears.
“Come here, Grendel. Look at this.” The tabby obligingly jumped on her keyboard and rubbed against the monitor. She stroked his ginger-colored fur. “I’m going to leave and not come back until my birthday’s over. Maybe if I’m gone, the whole disaster won’t happen.”
Bored, Grendel meowed and jumped atop the printer, waiting to pounce on paper.
“Wish you could come, but you’d hate that long car ride, wouldn’t you, baby?”
Frustrated at the lack of print production, Grendel took a flying leap off her desk.
The canyon was in northwest Alabama near the Sipsey Wilderness, about a three-hour drive from Piedmont. Cabins were available for rent, but because it was privately owned, the price was a little steep for her budget.
The computer beeped, signaling an e-mail. She minimized the webpage and checked her inbox. There was a message from [email protected]. No subject line. Heart pounding, she clicked.
A full-screen photo exploded on the monitor. James and Theodora sunning on the beach in a passionate, sandy embrace. A techno-colored nightmare. She scrolled down the page. Another picture showed James, Theodora, and Carter with their arms wrapped around each other, grinning companionably. In the last photo, James and Theodora held hands before a giant water fountain. She zoomed in on the hotel in the background—the Bellagio in Las Vegas.
At the end, a single line of text read: Go fly off on your broomstick, witch.
Jealousy exploded like a green, burning poison. Exactly what Theodora intended, no doubt. All the more reason to get out of Piedmont.
She composed a brief two-liner: If you’re immortal like you say, then you shouldn’t be so worried about me. You had to wait your turn with James. Because baby, all you’re good for is my sloppy seconds.
Callie hit send and forced herself back to planning the getaway. Her immediate, largest obstacle was coming up with the cash.
She leaned back at her desk, still brooding over the photos, and eyed the closet. Dare she? She yanked open the door and pulled out her father’s Book of Shadows, covered under a stack of board games. She rifled through pages of arcane ingredients and black spells: binding enemies, temporary paralysis, glamorizing opponents. Glamorizing? She paused, fingers tracing Lucas’s handwritten instructions.
Disfiguring others to gain advantage . . . Oh yeah, just the thing for Theodora. Maybe have her entire body erupt in oozing sores, or gain a hundred pounds of jiggly fat.
Oh, hell. What was she doing?
Callie slammed the book shut and threw it back in the closet so hard its spine snapped.
I will not be like my father.
James pulled into the Kudzu Cottage B&B. This wouldn’t be fun—and was possibly even cruel—but it was necessary. He picked up the dozen yellow roses with a sigh.
Theodora waited at the door. “James! You look so handsome.” She wound her arms around his neck, beaming, eyes blazing in triumph.
He extended the roses. “For you.”
She wore an elegant, short black dress that was provocative without being over-the-top for a small, Southern town. Her ebony hair was loose, the shiny tresses falling in subtle waves around bare shoulders.
“Yellow’s my favorite. You remembered.” She pressed her lips against his.
No passion or magic on his side. All he could think of was his first meeting with Callie on Lavender Mountain and the indigo blaze from St. Elmo’s fire.
He made himself respond with a credible show of enthusiasm then stepped back from the doorway. “We seem to have an audience,” he said with the right tinge of regret in his voice. “Don’t you have to maintain a respectable reputation working as a school librarian?”
“Connors has no problem with my reputation.” She stared at a prying group of women.
The B&B proprietor and her gaggle of lady friends sat around a table under the shaded carport, drinking frozen concoctions and playing cards. The women stared back in unashamed amusement. One of the ladies, in a faded floral print dress and a floppy pink hat, even turned her metal folding chair completely around for a better view.
“It’s the old biddies’ gin rummy night,” Theodora said in disgust. “They’re probably already half-sloshed.” She grinned. “Why don’t we really give them something to talk about,” she suggested in a husky voice.
“Maybe later.” He disentangled himself. “We’ve got reservations for seven o’clock.”
Theodora shrugged, and they walked out to his black BMW convertible. “Sorry ladies,” she called out to their audience. “Show’s over. We’ll be back later for the peep show, if you’re not passed out drunk by then.”
He was embarrassed and amused at the same time. Theodora hadn’t changed. She couldn’t care less what others thought as long as she was having a good time.
Their talk was light on the drive; it almost seemed like old times when they’d seen each other exclusively for a couple of years. At least, he’d thought it was an exclusive relationship. For the first time, he was glad he’d caught her in bed with his friend. If he’d married Theodora, he would never have met Callie.
He pulled into a gravel parking lot, crowded with pickup trucks and Bondo-spackled cars. Theodora looked first at the slightly decrepit cement block building then faced him, brows raised.
“This is where you made a reservation?”
“Yep, Lulu’s Fish Camp. Best fried catfish in Alabama.” The tires of his BMW scrunched on the gravel as he brought the car to a halt. He went around and opened her door. His pricey car stood out like a neon-lit sign, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to drive it. James and Carter agreed cruising in the BMW around Piedmont called too much attention, so he reserved the pleasure of driving it only for out-of-town trips.
Theodora visibly gathered herself, picked up her purse, and plastered on a smile. A gang of motorcycle riders pulled in beside them. She surveyed the leather chaps and tattooed bikers. “I’m a bit overdressed. Next time let me know ahead where we’re going.” Her tone was as cool and bracing as mountain water in winter.
His plan was working already.
Once they were seated and presented the slightly greasy menu, Theodora studied it with growing annoyance. “Everything here is fried, even the pickles and green beans.”
“That’s what makes it so good.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said, lowering the menu. “Even the desserts are fried. Fried cheesecake or fried Oreos with ice cream.”
He fought to keep a straight face. Callie would have ordered both desserts and eaten every bite. “Which one are you getting? If you want, we can order one of each and share.”
Theodora jerked the menu back up and continued frowning at the selections.
“Can I help ya’, ma’am?” Their waitress, who looked to be in her early thirties, was a bit frumpy with an apron splattered in grease and hair limp from heat.
“I want the shrimp plate, but don’t fry the shrimp. Just broil it without butter.”
The waitress, Tessie according to her badge, raised an eyebrow but wrote it down. Tessie looked at James for his order, but Theodora spoke up again.
“And I want to change the sides. Instead of French fries I want a baked potato, and—”
“Ya’ want sour cream and butter ‘n cheese on it?”
“Is the sour cream l
ow-fat?”
“No, darlin’.” Tessie’s smile was a bit strained.
Theodora heaved a dissatisfied sigh. “Then just a pat of butter on the side. For my other vegetable, I want to substitute a salad for the fried corn. Do you have any low-fat dressing?” she asked without much optimism.
Tessie shook her head, not bothering to look up from her order pad.
“Then ask the chef to mix together some oil and vinaigrette for me.” Theodora handed Tessie the menu without looking at her.
Tessie ignored her outstretched hand, leaving Theodora awkwardly dangling the menu.
James smiled and tried to put some extra warmth in his voice to break the frost in the air. “I’ll have the fried catfish with French fries and fried pickles. You can bring us both iced tea, sweet for me and unsweet for my date.” He took Theodora’s menu, added his to it, and gave them to Tessie.
Theodora was annoyed but trying to hide it. This was going to be even easier than he’d imagined.
“I’m glad you called.” She put on her game face. “What made you finally decide to give us another chance?”
He spoke the rehearsed words. “Since Callie and I split, I’ve been thinking back on what we had. The first couple of years were good, but near the end, I knew something was wrong. You’d be warm one week and cold the next.” So far he’d told the truth.
“I’m sorry. Can’t you forget the bad and let’s move on?” She reached for his hand across the table. I promise—”
Two iced teas sloshed on the table. “Sugar’s on the table if ya’ need some,” Tessie said, ignoring Theodora.
“Do you have any Sweet-n-Low?”
Tessie pulled out a couple of slightly damp pink packets from her apron and plunked them down.
James sipped his tea. Now came the hard part. He had to act as if he really wanted this two-timer back in his life.
He grasped her hand. “If you promise to change, I’m willing to try again.”
The triumphant gleam in her eyes returned. Good. She bought it.
“You won’t be sorry,” she said in a husky voice, rubbing a finger on her lips suggestively.
“No doubt.” He returned what he hoped passed for a smoldering look. “But things will be a bit different this time around.”
Her smile lost a bit of its brilliance. “How so?”
“For starters, let’s talk about where we’ll live. Dad and I came to Piedmont with the intention of staying at least six years. I’ve been taking a much-needed break from my management consulting career. You know how bored I get every century or so. I’d like to do something new, something I’ve never done before.”
“You’re always trying to reinvent yourself.” Theodora looked puzzled. “I’ve never felt the need myself. I’m perfectly happy being me and living off the interest on my capital investments.”
“Doesn’t that ever bore you?” He was honestly curious. Forever was a long time to do the same thing repeatedly.
She shrugged. “Not at all.”
Maybe if Theodora actually applied herself at something, she wouldn’t feel the need to sleep around with his friends for kicks. But he couldn’t say that. He took another long sip of tea to swallow those words.
“What exciting, new thing do you want to try now?” she asked, as if humoring a child.
“I want to teach elementary school.” He couldn’t help smiling at the appalled look on her face.
“There’s no money in that,” she pointed out. “It sounds dreadful. Babysitting a bunch of little kids all day long? The very idea makes my head hurt.”
“You’ve never liked kids too much, have you?”
“They’re alien creatures to me. It’s been so long since I was one, I don’t remember what it was like or how their minds work.”
“Me either. That’s why I want to teach.”
“But why stay in this boring dump of a town? You can teach anywhere.”
“My plan is to transfer to nearby Jacksonville State. They have a good elementary education program. And you know Carter loves this area.”
“So what?” She hesitated a heartbeat. “You’re over one hundred and fifty years old. You don’t need a father.”
Theodora would never understand what it meant to have a family or life-long friendships.
“I like living with him. At least until I get married and have children of my own.”
She almost dropped her glass. “Immortals can’t have kids.”
“That we know of,” he corrected. “It’s possible maybe we can someday with all the genetic mutations happening.” Time to move in for the kill. “And there’s always adoption.”
Theodora’s hand, which had been stirring the tea, froze. She looked at him with dawning understanding. “So we live here for years while you get a teaching degree.”
“Right. And if we get married, I want to adopt.” That ought to scare her right out of Alabama for good.
“I hope y’all are hungry.” Tessie arrived with their food. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
He smiled. “No, I think we’re good.” He dug into the fried catfish with relish. He’d bet half his stock portfolio that Theodora packed her clothes tonight and took the first plane out of Atlanta in the morning.
Callie loaded her packed bags in the car. Only two days until her birthday. Guilt, and more than a little case of nerves, had gnawed at her for the last three weeks. She wanted everything to be over.
Back in the house, she called for her shadow. “Grendel?”
That cat kept her awake every night, but when she wanted him, he was nowhere around. “Kitty?” She looked in his usual hideouts, the laundry basket and the porch rug. Not there.
Finally, she found him curled up on her bedroom pillow fast asleep. Figured. She rubbed behind his ears. Grendel opened one eye to see who’d disturbed him before falling back asleep, purring softly.
“I’ll miss you, sweetie.” Stupid to think she had to say goodbye to a cat, but she couldn’t leave otherwise.
She straightened and looked around the bedroom. Would everything be different when she returned? She touched her amber pendant for courage. If there was a chance leaving could stop the battle and death, she had to do it. If Lucas found her, at least she’d be alone, and no one else would get hurt.
She taped a note on the refrigerator.
Dear Mom and Grandma Jo,
I’m going away and will come back after my birthday. I met Lucas and you were right, he hasn’t changed. I’ve been warned there will be some kind of battle and death on the solstice.
So you see why I have to go. I know you’ve been planning this big deal for me with the coven initiation, but it’s not worth the risk.
Please don’t be too mad. I’m going way out in the country so I won’t have cell phone access. But I’ll see you soon. Try not to worry.
Love,
Callie
She practically ran out the door and got in the doodlebug before changing her mind. She hoped her old car would make the round trip. She backed out the driveway and onto the road, a cloud of red dirt trailing the car. Passing the cutoff road to Booze Mountain, she sped even more until she was a good thirty miles out of Piedmont.
For the hundredth time, she opened her purse and touched the thick, padded envelope. She wouldn’t get far without it. How ironic this whole escape was made possible by the very person she was running from. Lucas. He’d sent a card along with a check for ten thousand dollars. Inside, scribbled in bold, black ink with the same unusual crimson metallic sheen in his Book of Shadows, he wrote:
Callie. Please accept this small check as a reminder of my offer to come work for me. There’s plenty more where that came from. Your father, Lucas.
How like him to think everyone was as materialistic as him.
She made sure her GPS was programmed and checked the time. She wanted to be settled in her cabin before the night tour began at Dismals Canyon. Traffic was light, the scenery wild and primitive and so engaging that s
he arrived in seemingly no time, the twilight deepening into long shadows. Hurriedly, she unpacked her belongings in the cabin and left for the tour.
Her flashlight lit a path from her cabin to the visitor’s center. All the earlier guilt of leaving Mom and Grandma Jo evaporated in her excitement. A group of about twenty people, all carrying flashlights and talking quietly, milled by the center, and she joined them. Everyone seemed to sense the subtle vibrations of the energy bands surrounding the canyon’s eighty-five acres. They probably didn’t know why they felt such a primal connection to this land, but it was there.
“It’s 7:30. Time for the tour,” said a tall man who looked to be in his mid-forties. He wore a khaki park ranger kind of outfit and carried a large clipboard. “Anyone who hasn’t signed in yet, come see me.”
She made sure her name was on his list and then stood on the fringe of the crowd. It was mostly families with a few teens about her age thrown in the mix. The younger kids squirmed with excitement and shone flashlights in each other’s faces.
A strange glow at the back of the tour group caught her eye. It came from an old woman with a ghostly, pale aura. Although her face was wrinkled and she had a slight stoop, her silver hair cascaded past her shoulders, shimmering like the inside of a pearl.
But it was her eyes that made Callie gasp. Those pale aquamarine eyes were staring directly at her, piercingly lovely.
“We’re all set now,” the tour guide said. “Just need to let you know a few safety precautions first. The canyon’s steep, so be careful. Look out for tree roots and rocks. Most important of all,” and here the guide directed his gaze at the younger kids who were jumping up and down, “you must stay together. No going off by yourself to explore.” He lowered his voice and pointed his flashlight at two five-year-old boys who were wrestling. “What did I say was the most important thing?”
“Umm, be careful?” one of the boys guessed.
“Nooooo…” The guide looked at the other boy.
“No horse playing?”
“Both of those are important, but what—”
Wicked Legends: A Dystopian Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection Page 71
