by Dawn Steele
“I didn’t want to involve you in all this,” Lucien says.
“I think I am already involved.”
He glances at her. “Not even a surface scratch. There’s a lot of iceberg under the water you can’t even imagine.”
“No metaphors, please, Lucien. I am not a child.”
“No, you’re not.” He sighs. “I’m torn between telling you everything and wondering what to leave out.”
She wants to say, “So don’t leave anything out”, but it wouldn’t be fair because she doesn’t tell him everything about herself and Jared either.
Lucien says, “It was two years back. My father and I were at a meeting with a client in the Chatterly when Alison Fitzpatrick, the eldest of the Fitzpatrick siblings, burst in with two of her sisters. I don’t know how much you know about the Fitzpatricks, but they are like the Irish, except they are not Irish. They are a family of seven children, and they have cousins and more extended relatives than you can count on a dozen hands.”
Five girls, two boys. Shannon remembers the photo in Kirk’s room.
“Alison pointed at my father with an accusing finger and said, ‘You killed him, didn’t you?’
“Naturally, we were all concerned. My father and I excused ourselves from our client and went outside with Alison.
“‘We didn’t kill anyone,’ my father declared. ‘Who do you mean?’
“Alison Fitzpatrick was incensed. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ she accused my father. ‘It had your mark all over it.’
“I was rather concerned myself at this point.
“‘We don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ I said. I felt like throttling her at that point. ‘Who died?’
“She rounded up on me. ‘My brother, who else?’ she said.
“She has only one brother that I know of who lived here then. He was Kyle Fitzpatrick. Younger than she was by five years, but clearly the leader of their clan since their father died.
“‘I haven’t seen Kyle in months,’ I said truthfully.
“My father said pretty much the same. We live in a small town, and sometimes you bump into some people, and other times not. The Fitzpatricks and the Walkers do not cohabitate in the same social circles. I don’t mean that in any sort of derogatory way. It’s just that my father is more used to country clubs than kiddie care.
“Alison glares at me as if she would like to murder me on the spot. Then she tells us what happened. They had found their brother, Kyle, in the woods. He was naked and very dead. But there were no marks on him. No stabs or puncture or bullet wounds.”
Lucien pauses. He is deliberating how much to tell her again, Shannon knows.
He clears his throat and continues:
“The only thing they found was a circle around him scattered in chalk dust. The circle had symbols in it. It was a witch’s circle, something my ancestors would have used to contain a dangerous being.”
“Is Kyle a dangerous being?” Shannon says carefully.
She knows she is onto something here and she has mostly put everything together, but she also knows Lucien will never reveal all his secrets.
“Is any human being dangerous?” Lucien smiles. “We are living in the Pacific Northwest which is known for its vast number of serial killers. So yes, every person is potentially dangerous. You, me, anyone.”
She nods at his deflective answer.
Lucien says, “My family history is in the annals for anyone who wants to read them. We have never covered up the fact that we had ancestors who were accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake back in New England. But it doesn’t mean we are the only witch family in Dolphin’s Bay, and it doesn’t mean we are practicing witchcraft. We should not be held culpable for the deeds of our ancestors.”
She agrees. Except that she doesn’t quite believe that the Walkers have stopped practicing witchcraft. She remembers the change that had come over Lucien when he was arm-wrestling her brother. Was that witchcraft, or does Lucien have innate powers he will not speak of?
She says hesitantly, “Lucien, I remember the day we met.”
He nods.
“I saw you watching me. I kept my eyes mostly on you, if you remember. You were the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time.”
She flushes. No matter how many times she has received a compliment from him, she will never get used to it.
He continues, “Your brother is very strong. The strongest man I’ve met so far since – ”
He trails off. Shannon supposes he is going to say Kirk Fitzpatrick.
“Are you a witch, Lucien?” she asks.
He doesn’t reply for a long while. They have come to the ocean on one side of the drive, and the sun dapples the wave caps with dazzling highlights.
He says, “I have inherited certain powers that I have some control of, and others I have none.”
She licks her lips. She has known this all along. “What powers?”
He gazes at her out of his brilliant blue eyes. “I can enhance my strength, speed, agility, memory when I choose to. It’s like taking a booster. An immense booster. But it doesn’t last, depending on how taxing the circumstances are.”
“Do you know witchcraft?”
“I won’t deny that when I was a child, I was very curious about it. There are books and tomes in the library back in my father’s home with spells in them. Some of them require a coven to perform the incantations.”
She has her answer. So he knows witchcraft. A sliver of anxiety trails down her backbone.
“But I don’t practice witchcraft, Shannon,” he says gently. “I don’t live in my father’s house anymore. We have no need for witchcraft. We have money. It’s ‘fuck you’ money, the kind which can buy off islands and small banana republics. We have the world at our feet. We have no need for witchcraft.”
“But your father and sister use it from time to time.”
He doesn’t reply to this for a while.
Then: “They have never used it to harm someone. And they certainly didn’t kill Kyle Fitzpatrick.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know. The police investigated it for a long time, found no evidence to link this to any of us and anyone else in town, and left it as an unsolved crime. So the Fitzpatricks have no grouse with us. I won’t deny some sort of witchcraft has been involved in killing Kyle Fitzpatrick, but we are not the only witches in the vicinity.”
“Who else is a witch?”
“Those are not my secrets to reveal.”
They have come to a scenic outlook which is placed on the promontory of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Lucien parks the Mustang and they both get out. Part of her wonders, irrationally, if he would push her off the cliff now that he has told her his secrets.
She shivers in the wind.
This is Lucien! her brain tells her. Lucien who held you and made sweet love to you only this morning, and gazed into your eyes with such ardor and passion and love, even though he has never uttered the words.
He says, looking out into the ocean, “Your brother, Jared, has powers too, doesn’t he?”
It’s no use denying it.
“Yes.”
“Witch?”
“Shapeshifter.”
Lucien holds his breath, and then releases it. “Then he would not be alone here.”
“You’re telling me the Fitzpatricks are shapeshifters as well.”
He holds her eyes.
“Not all of them. Mainly the males. Brothers, cousins. They are not the only ones here. There are other families who prowl the dark forest and in all kinds of guises.”
He is right. The Pacific Northwest is full of killers.
“I think the Fitzpatricks know about Jared and me.”
He nods. “It would eventually come to that, yes. Shapeshifters like to map their territory and mark it out. They are not as territorial as true beasts, and they understand the need to co-exist to avoid investigations by the rangers. Still, accidents
occur now and again – especially if a strange shapeshifter comes to town – and someone is killed.”
“Like old man Pullnam.”
“Like old man Pullnam,” he agrees. “What about you? Are you a shapeshifter as well?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. Any powers then?”
She decides to tell him about the healing and Conchita Ruiz.
He comes closer to her and takes her hands. “So you’re a witch as well.”
“No. A healer.”
“Some would call you a green witch.” He moves his lips to hers and gently kisses her.
She responds, needing the assurance of his touch that everything still is as it was between them. Their kisses grow more fervent, and pretty soon, they are frantically feeling each other’s bodies all over.
A car whizzing by brings them down to ground. They part for air and laugh.
“Public sex can be enervating,” he teases.
“That’s one thing that will bring the police down on us quicker than your coven of witches.”
“I don’t belong to any coven.” He holds her fiercely. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Shannon.”
Her heart beats faster with a surge of love for him.
“I know.”
They embrace each other for a long time before returning to the car and driving back to Dolphin’s Bay.
THE WITCH
Back at work, Shannon and Kirk do not speak of the incident. It is as if nothing had happened. Kirk is as busy and cordial as ever, and so is Shannon.
Jared has managed to land himself a job as a supervisor in a logging company, and so he is near the forest during the day and kept happy. She hopes he doesn’t get the urge to shapeshift at work, or it would be most uncomfortable if he were found out.
Weeks pass. Everything seems to have settled into an equilibrium, where people are content to be in the exact same place as they are. Shannon and Lucien are still a couple without the ‘C’ word, and they are happy. Deliriously so.
Then of course everything has to go to shit.
*
Shannon is at a Laundromat with a pile of dirty laundry when a woman walks in to confront her.
“Shannon Bellamy?” the woman says.
The woman is dressed simply in a green shirt and blue jeans. Her hair is strawberry blonde and she has the sharpest blue eyes Shannon has ever seen. She is extremely tall, and she would have been pretty if her features weren’t so hard-looking.
“Yes?” Something about this woman looks terribly familiar, and suddenly it hits Shannon.
The woman confirms it.
“I’m Margarete Walker, Lucien’s sister.” She holds out her hand.
“Hi,” Shannon says cautiously.
She takes the woman’s hand and shakes it. Margarete’s flesh is cold. Shannon wonders if this is her natural skin temperature or if she has just come in from the chill. An instinct tells her that it is the former.
“I wonder if I may speak with you privately,” Margarete says.
In the brief months that Shannon has dated Lucien, he has barely spoken about his family. Nor has he offered to bring her home to meet with them. Shannon attributes this to Lucien’s resolve to keep her as far away as possible from the witches. She doubts he has even spoken to his family about her, and she is content to keep it that way.
But now, apparently, a spoke has been thrown into the wheel.
Shannon looks around the Laundromat. Only one other customer is there – a huge man in a plaid shirt and ripped jeans who resembles the typical logger stereotype. He looks up at the pair, takes in Shannon’s slim form appreciatively, and looks away again. Shannon notices the ring on his fourth finger.
“Sure,” she says. “If you could wait till I finish up. I’m at my final spin cycle, I think.”
“Maybe we could go outside,” insists the woman.
She looks like one of those impatient types, Shannon decides. The kind who thinks that people should be moved around like chessmen. Deciding that the logger would probably not be interested in her clean clothing, Shannon grabs her jacket and purse and exits the Laundromat with Margarete Walker.
Once outside, Margarete says: “You are seeing my brother.”
“Yes,” Shannon says. She is not quite sure how to approach this. Has Lucien mentioned her? Is she supposed to play dumb about their relationship? They haven’t rehearsed this, obviously.
“Well, don’t,” Margarete says abruptly. She reaches in her jeans pocket for a pack of cigarettes. She offers it to Shannon. “God, I’m dying for a smoke. You want one?”
“No, thanks, I don’t smoke.” Shannon is beginning to be irritable. “What’s this all about and what is it to you if I am dating your brother?”
“He hasn’t spoken about you to us, for sure.” Margarete lights up, blows a smoke ring into the air and doesn’t apologize for it.
“He hasn’t spoken much about you either to me.”
“So he intends to keep you a secret.”
“We are not exactly secretive about going out. Anyone would have spotted us in a dozen places. He isn’t married, and we’re not exactly creeping about behind anyone’s backs.”
“No. But you don’t know everything there is to know about him.”
“I do know plenty, yes.” Shannon senses the challenge, and she refuses to back down from this bossy woman.
“Then know this.” Margarete takes a long puff of her cigarette. “Since he was sixteen, he has been engaged to a girl named Flora Janssen. She lives in Seattle and she is due to visit him this weekend.”
Shannon is taken aback. OK, that would be putting it too mildly. She is sucker punched in the gut. Shock impacts every sense she possesses.
“Wh-what?” she says.
“You heard me right. Since he was sixteen – ”
“I heard that.” Shannon’s head is reeling, and the ground suddenly feels a lot closer than a second ago.
How does anyone in this day and age in the Western world get engaged when they are sixteen unless they are royalty? Even royalty doesn’t do that anymore. But even as the thoughts tumble in her head, she thinks she knows why.
Flora Janssen must be a witch. The witch clans must have gotten together and decided that a union between the eldest Walker son and the daughter of the Janssens would produce further lines of powerful witches.
“Then which part of what I said didn’t you understand?” Margarete says.
Shannon doesn’t think she said that to be cruel. Margarete is simply someone who has the E.Q. of a worm.
Margarete continues, “My brother is taken. He has been spoken for. You have no future in his life, and I’ve come here to you today to ask you not to complicate things. Things are complicated enough for our family as it is already.”
Shannon has to fight hard to keep her lower lip from trembling. “Then how come he doesn’t tell me about her himself? Does he even have a choice in who he is marrying?”
Margarete clicks her tongue impatiently. “I don’t know what he does or does not tell you, though I suspect he is telling you more than he should be.”
She pauses significantly at this. I know he told you we are a family of witches.
“Lucien Walker isn’t like other people. He has a birthright. He comes from a very structured lineage, and he is expected to toe the line or lose his inheritance and standing in our family completely. My parents had an arranged marriage, as did my grandparents on both sides. I will have an arranged marriage. In fact, I have been engaged to man from Boston since we were both fourteen. We are both simply continuing the tradition passed to us by our parents and their parents before them.
“You are a distraction to him. You are just another one in a long line of Lucien’s girlfriends – girls he has been seeing and having casual sex with to bide his time until he is married to Flora. He may have been seeing more of you than the others, true, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he will be married to Flora by the end
of October.”
The end of October. Shannon knows what that signifies.
Samhain.
Halloween.
“Flora knows about Lucien’s girlfriends,” Margarete continues. “She tolerates his wanderings with understanding, dignity, and a worldly eye because she knows he has to sow his seeds before settling down. And that is exactly what he is doing with you. Sowing his seeds. Nothing more.”
Shannon can’t help feeling like her world is sinking around her.
“But he doesn’t love her,” she blurts out.
“What do you know about their relationship? Does he love you?” Margarete says meaningfully.
Lucien has never dropped the ‘L’ word with her. Shannon can feel the blood draining away from her face. Is that why he never gave her any hope regarding these matters? Is that why he never brought it up?
“I can see you can’t answer these questions yourself,” Margarete says. “So you know, as much as you don’t want to admit it, that I’m right.”
She finishes her cigarette and drops her butt on the ground. She stubs it out with her foot.
“I just did you a favor,” she says. “I hope you will thank me one day.”
With that, she strides to her car, a silver BMW, starts in and revs off without a second glance at Shannon.
CONFRONTATION
Shannon never realized how much she loves Lucien until she feels her heart breaking and her entire world crashing down.
He lied to me.
No, he didn’t really lie. He just never told you the truth.
But how could he do this to her? Is everything Margarete told her the absolute truth then? Was Lucien simply using her for his sexual pleasures with no intention of making their union permanent?
What a fool you are to hope for anything more. He is exactly what you told yourself he would be when you first met him – a wonderful sexual diversion. Nothing more.
But she had allowed herself to hope.
She had allowed herself – over the weeks they had dated and he had no other in his sights – that she would be the one to land him. She would be the one to tame him. She had even thought that the secrets he shared with her about his family meant that he trusted her enough to share his life with her. She had allowed herself to subconsciously want him to be the one for her.
