by Rose Pressey
He turned to look at the books again. “So your aunt collected books?”
Again I was nervous that he’d find the spell book. I needed to get him away from here.
“She collected a lot of things,” I said. “So how about your breakfast? You worked so hard to prepare it. Would you care for refreshments?”
“Refreshments?” He quirked a brow.
I’d instantly regretted the question. What was wrong with me? This wasn’t 1875 and he wasn’t my gentleman caller. “There’s more orange juice and coffee in the kitchen.”
The kitchen far away from the book, I thought. When he didn’t take the hint, I moved a little closer to the door, hoping he would follow like a little puppy. He didn’t budge as he fixed his gaze on me. I wasn’t about to leave him alone in this room with the book.
Nicolas must have realized this, because he finally said, “Yes, I’d like that.”
He moved toward me with ease and my heart skipped a beat. As soon as he was munching on breakfast, I’d slip back into the room and grab the book. But where would I hide it? I could put it back in the attic where I’d found it. Why had it been there in the first place? Had Aunt Maddy hidden it?
No, there had to be a safer place… a place closer to me. A spot where I could keep my eye on it. But other than carrying it around on my body at all times, where would that be? I certainly spent a lot of time in the kitchen, but that was a place my guests would go too, considering I’d discovered Nicolas there this morning. Heck, they could go anywhere in the house… except for one room. My bedroom. That was off limits. A flash of one of the men in my room crossed my mind. They were certainly both sexy, but they were off limits too.
“You know, I just remembered something that I need to take care of. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
What could I say? No? I hadn’t gotten the answers I wanted from him yet and it looked as if he was trying not to answer them. What could have been so important that he had to take off in such a hurry?
Chapter Thirteen
That night I woke again for no apparent reason. What had woken me this time? I couldn’t say for sure that it had been a noise. I lay perfectly still and listened, but the only sound was the cat purring in my ear. The house was silent… eerily silent. A strange feeling settled over me, as if eyes watched me. It was like a presence was right there beside me. I was almost afraid to look around the room to see if anyone was there. But the curiosity would get the better of me, so I knew I had to look.
I slowly rolled over in the bed and looked to my side. When I saw a woman standing near my bed, I sucked in a deep breath. My mouth wouldn’t work though. Screaming or even speaking wasn’t an option. My eyes widened and my heart thumped wildly as I stared at this woman. Her gaze was fixed on me.
The woman wore a long, light blue dress. She had long flowing blonde hair and her eyes glowed a brilliant blue. There was one thing definitely strange about her though. I could see right through her body. I lay there paralyzed. Neither one of us made a move.
Finally, I managed to squeak out, “Who are you?”
She didn’t answer, but instead just continued to stare at me.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
Still no answer.
Why wasn’t she speaking? Slowly she began to move. She didn’t walk, she glided. Her arms and legs flowed like water. Was I finally seeing the ghost? This was definitely not my great-great-great-grandfather. Who was she and where had she come from?
When she reached the door, she paused. Then she turned around and looked at me again. She had a haunted look in her eyes. That was fitting, right? What did she want with me? After a couple seconds, she turned and floated right out the bedroom door. Definitely a ghost. Annabelle would have had a heart attack.
I lay there with the covers pulled up close to my face and shivered. The room was freezing. Watching the door for what seemed like forever, I waited for her to return. I listened for more noise but heard nothing. Maybe Liam really had heard a noise in the attic. I’d told Annabelle that dealing with a ghost was just part of living in a big old manor house, but now that I was faced with the true reality of it, I wasn’t sure it was as easy as I’d thought it would be.
The book was calling to me again. Since I couldn’t sleep after what had happened, I allowed it to lure me from bed. I pulled it out from its hiding place and slipped downstairs to the kitchen. The men should be fast asleep in their rooms and I shouldn’t be disturbed. Placing the book down on the table, I sat on the stool in front of it. I stared for a minute, wondering if I should really open the book. Was there another spell that I could read? Even so, I still didn’t know what the spell was for. And look what happened the last time I performed a spell.
But I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have one more peek inside the book. Maybe I’d stumble on a clue as to what it all meant. My fingers paused on the cover. Releasing a deep breath, I finally opened the cover. There were several pages that seemed to be introduction pages, but I still couldn’t read them. Had I thought they’d magically change? Had I thought I’d be able to somehow read them now? Nothing had changed to make that possible. Was there a spell that I could perform that would allow me to read the foreign language? Who was I kidding? I couldn’t even perform a spell to make my cooking better, much less translate an unknown language.
I flipped through the pages again and nothing made sense. I wasn’t able to read one single word. If only there was a way to search for the language online. Maybe I’d take the book to the library. Would they have something with this language? I let out a sigh and closed the book. Now what?
Just as I was about to pick the book up and go back upstairs, that same strong wind began to blow—a slight breeze at first, then a wild gust. The air blew the hair on my head around wildly and moved dishes with ease. Thank goodness they hadn’t fallen to the floor. Would the noise wake Nicolas and Liam? The book cover flipped open and the pages flicked until they finally came to rest. The wind subsided and I looked down at the open page. To my surprise, it was written in English. I could actually read the page.
It was another spell, but it still didn’t say what the outcome would be. Should I risk doing the spell? An unseen force was pulling me to it though, making me what to give it a try. How much worse could it be than the spells that I was already trying?
After studying the list of ingredients, I rushed around the kitchen checking to see if I had all that was needed. Luckily, Aunt Maddy had an abundant supply of almost anything that I would need to work magic. Again, I plucked the ingredients for the spell from the shelves—basil, bay leaves, frankincense, just to name a few. I’d have to hurry in case Liam or Nicolas came downstairs. Being caught in the middle of pouring something into my cauldron would be hard to explain. Once all the ingredients were added, I waited for something to happen. A spark, a poof of smoke, a flash of light… something… anything. But still nothing was different. Apparently, I’d make a mistake, yet again.
I did receive a call from Abigail Smith saying that I’d messed up her beauty potion and she now had warts on her face. That was what she got for not going to my mother for those types of things. I cleaned up my mess, grabbed the book and hurried back upstairs. No noise came from either of my guests’ rooms. Thank goodness they hadn’t heard me. I placed the book back securely under the floor into its hiding place and slipped into bed.
As I tried to drift off to sleep, my thoughts went back to the ghost. Was she around all the time? Listening and watching everything that happened in the house? I wasn’t quite sure how long I’d lain there watching the door before I finally drifted off back to sleep. I did know that for a second night running I didn’t sleep much. That would make for another difficult day.
I woke to that strange sensation of not being alone in the room again. The ghost of the mysterious woman stood by the door this time, staring me. She wasn’t surrounded by a bluish glow. How long had she been watching me sleep? I tried to ask her what she wanted again, but I r
eceived the same blank stare. Once again, she turned after a minute and vanished out the door. I’d expected some remnants of the apparition, a trail of mist or a puff of smoke, but she had disappeared as if she’d never even existed. I wondered if my mind was just playing tricks on me.
This time I jumped up and slipped out the door after her. I didn’t find the ghost, but Liam was standing in the hallway with his back facing me. Was he sleepwalking? He wore blue and white striped pajama bottoms, but no shirt. His broad shoulders tapered down to a trim waist. He turned around and looked at me. The way he soaked in my full appearance, I knew he was fully awake. At that moment I wished I was wearing more than a short satin nightgown. I tried not to stare at his hard chest and tight abs, but that was virtually impossible.
“Did you hear something?” I whispered.
He gave me a knowing look. Had he seen her too?
“It must have been the wind,” he said.
He knew it wasn’t the wind just as much as I knew it wasn’t the wind.
We watched each other for a few seconds longer until I said, “I’d better go back to bed.”
I turned around and hurried back into my room before he had a chance to answer. After securing the lock on my door, I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up close. I’d have to ask my mother if she knew who this spirit could be. Maybe Aunt Maddy had mentioned a ghost in the past. I knew one thing for sure, this spirit wanted something from me and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give it whatever that something was.
***
Liam and Nicolas had both declined breakfast by leaving a note on my door the next morning. Where had they gone so early? Was it their so-called business in town? Maybe I should follow them sometime just to see exactly where they went. That kind of move wouldn’t win me the innkeeper of the year award, but I needed answers.
When I arrived at Bewitching Bath and Potions Shop, I pulled up in front, but hesitated before climbing out of the car. I knew my mother would have a million questions for me as soon as I walked through the door.
Fat bars of sunlight streamed through the windows and brightened the already white space. My mother was standing behind the counter. This time she had both eyebrows still on her face. A large pot with her ingredients surrounding it covered the space in front of her. She was hard at work.
She smiled and tapped her finger against a box next to her. “We have a bunch of new orders to fill.”
I quirked a brow. Why wasn’t she demanding to know everything?
“It’s been busy already this morning,” she said as she continued wrapping soaps in their packages.
I grabbed my apron and looped it over my head. Pulling out items from the box, I continued to stare at her.
Finally she looked up at me. “What?” she asked.
“Don’t act all innocent with me. What’s going on?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked sweetly.
“Why aren’t you asking me what happened?” I stared at her.
She continued her work, pouring an unknown concoction into a pot. “I figure if you want me to know you’ll tell me.”
Oh, now I got it. “You’re upset because I didn’t return your call last night.”
“I still feel magic all around you. And it’s not the normal feeling. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked with a suspicious glare.
I continued taking things out of the box without looking over at her. I knew she was glaring at me. The staring was getting to me too. She had always had a way of making me talk. I knew she would win this battle.
Finally I gave in. “Okay. I found this book the other day and I performed a couple spells out of it. It seems like there’s been this strange energy around me since it showed up. Or maybe it has been since Nicolas and Liam showed up.”
“Oh. You’re on a first-name basis with them?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Mother! Out of everything I just said, that is the one thing you decided to focus on?” I looked at her incredulously.
She shrugged. “No, it’s not the one thing, but it was just the first thing.”
“Well, using their last names seems so formal.” I sniffed one of the soaps. “I want them to think of my place as a cozy, friendly spot.”
Uh-huh. Yeah, my mother wasn’t buying it and I knew that wasn’t the reason either. But I’d never admit it out loud.
“So tell me about this book,” my mother said. “Where did you find it?”
“It was in the attic,” I said nonchalantly
She brushed her hands on her apron “Well, your great aunt had a lot of old books.”
My voice lowered. “This one was different from the others.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Well, for starters, it wasn’t on the shelf with the rest of them. I found it upstairs in the attic. Or more like it found me.” I stirred the pot then met her stare.
“Honey, what are you talking about?”
Just then the phone rang and she held up her finger, making me pause. It was just as well though. I was having second thoughts about telling her about the book. Maybe I could think of something else to say. I could start talking about Nicolas and Liam. That would distract her from the situation.
My mother cast a glance at me as she apologized to the person on the other end of the line. What had I done this time?
She hung up the phone and looked at me. “Been doing spells in the middle of the night, have you?”
“I knew that witch Abigail would rat me out. I can’t help it if I messed up her spell. Besides, I can’t exactly do spells in front of my guests. Well, unless it was an emergency.”
“Can’t you wait until they leave?” The amused look suddenly left her eyes. “It wasn’t an emergency was it?”
“Not exactly. Well, I don’t know if it was an emergency.” I bit my bottom lip.
“You’re not making any sense, sweetie. Why don’t you tell me the whole story?” She patted the stool next to her and motioned for me to sit down.
“There’s not much to tell really. Like I said, I found the spell book in the attic. It was hidden behind the beams. I don’t know who hid it there, but I’m assuming it was Aunt Maddy.”
“That sounds like something she’d do. She probably forgot about it. What kind of spells are in the book?” my mother asked.
This was the tricky part, telling her the story had been easy up until now.
“I’m not sure what kind of spells are in the book.” I plopped down on the stool behind the counter.
“What do you mean you don’t know what kind of spells? Aren’t they labeled?” Her eyes widened.
“I don’t know if they are labeled,” I said.
“You’re still not making any sense. Did you hit your head again?” She touched my forehead.
I let out a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is the book is in a different language.”
She froze with her hand midair. “What language is it written in?” she asked with wide eyes.
I picked at a piece of paper on the counter, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Then how did you do a spell out of the book?” she asked.
I shook my head. “This is the really strange part. A big wind came through and opened the book precisely to a page that was written in English.”
Her face blanched. “Then why the heck did you do the spell? Did it say what it was for?”
I shrugged. “I was compelled to. I don’t know what came over me.”
“This is not good.” She wiped her forehead and narrowly missed the eyebrow.
She looked at me as if to say ‘look at what you’ve done.’
“I need to call the Coven,” my mother said with alarm in her voice.
I stopped her from reaching for her phone. “No! You can’t do that.”
“Halloween, you don’t know what this book is or what it could do. You have to seek advice from people who are experienced in this
sort of thing,” she pleaded.
She did have a point. But I didn’t want them involved. Not yet anyway.
“Just give me a little time to figure it out on my own, okay? I promise if I don’t figure it out I will tell the Coven. Do you promise not to tell them yet?” I asked.
She hesitated, then finally nodded.
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a warning glare.
The bell on the door jangled and we both looked up. I was thankful for the momentary distraction. A man carrying a beautiful bouquet of roses approached us.
“Oh, how beautiful,” my mother cooed.
If I’d known that roses could have captured her attention so much I would have sent flowers a long time ago. I’d have to remember her reaction.
