Never Again

by Michele Bardsley

She stomped through the foyer, knowing she was acting immature, but she didn’t care. He’d hurt her feelings. He could . . . could . . . kiss her backside, that was what.

  “You know, not everyone appreciates a sassy mouth like I do.”

  Happy spun around and planted her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to tell him to piss off already , but the look in his eyes stalled the words.

  His gaze slid across her lips in such a way that her stomach dipped and her nipples went hard. She felt kinda breathless all of a sudden, and she stared at him, wide-eyed. His neck mottled with red. He closed his eyes, turned, and lightly banged his forehead on the wall a couple of times.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Knocking some sense into myself.”

  “You liiiiiike me,” she teased. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

  “Enough to make you jailbait.”

  “I’ll be legal soon enough.”

  “I live for the day.” He sounded more sarcastic than yearning. “Quit looking at me like that. Go on with yourself.”

  Happy put her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss.

  “Girl, you are some kind of trouble.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” she asked, batting her lashes. “Trouble is my last name.” Then she spun around and walked away, putting a little sway in her hips. She smiled when she heard his tortured groan.

  She cleared the porch and was halfway across the gravel driveway to Ant’s truck when she heard the front door squeal open, then bang shut.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She was startled at how close he was, and she whirled, glaring at him. He stood about a foot behind her, looking like the cat who ate the cream.

  “Forget something?” He held up her backpack.

  How had she forgotten her bag? Argh! She swiped for it, but he just yanked it out of her reach. He grinned at her, challenge sparkling in his eyes. How could she have been such a moron? He’d gotten all mushy with her and she stopped thinking right. The crystal was in there, and she couldn’t find Lucy without it. Asking around about a Rackmore witch would attract more notice than she wanted. This place was so small that there couldn’t be too many places for Lucy to hang out . . . unless she was on a farm somewhere.

  She wanted to tell him to stuff it, but he was trying to rile her. Besides, she needed the crystal. Her gaze narrowed, and she wondered how hard she could kick him in the balls without endangering his ability to have kids.

  He shook his head. “You even think about it, and I’ll get in my truck and run you over.”

  “Harsh,” she muttered. Then she took option B: She tackled him.

  He hadn’t expected a full linebackeresque assault, so he went down hard, the backpack flying out of his hand. Happy landed on top of him, all wiggling knees and elbows until he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

  She stopped moving.

  “You’re crazy,” he wheezed out. “Damnation. You almost killed me.”

  “You’re just mad because a girl whooped you.”

  “I’m not mad,” he said. “That’s the problem.” He brushed her hair back, his knuckles skimming her cheek. “I want to be your friend.”

  “That’s a lie.” Her heart knocked so badly against her chest, she just knew he could feel it against his own.

  “You’re right. It is a lie. But I have to be the kind of man my mama raised.”

  “I understand.” And she did. He was nice, even when he didn’t want to be. It was sorta like Lucy’s decision—doing the thing that hurt them both, separating, so that Happy would be protected. And now Ant was making the same kind of choice.

  She couldn’t give voice to her thoughts, or to her woes, so she scrambled off him, retrieved her backpack, and headed to Ant’s truck.

  In no time at all, they were headed back to town. Nerves plucked at Happy’s stomach. She chewed her bottom lip as she wondered what to do next. She couldn’t begin to hope that Ant would just drop her off on a corner and wish her luck. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

  Could she trust him?

  She wanted to. She was so tired of looking over her shoulder, of worrying about what would happen the day Bernard found her again. No one should live a life in fear—Lucy said that. All Happy had known since the day her mother died was fear. Hers, Lucy’s, everyone’s. Scared all the time because of Bernard.

  It felt like giving him power, to be so terrified. She knew he thrived on creating that emotion in others. It made him strong. It gave him the kind of pleasure other people got from eating chocolate or kissing.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” She clutched the backpack. “So, where are you taking me?”

  “To the sheriff’s office.” He glanced at her. “My big brother will help you. There’s no one in town more reliable than Taylor, I promise.”

  “What’s your promise worth?” she asked wearily.

  “Happy, I . . . ” He trailed off, staring straight ahead, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

  She heard the anguish in his voice. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, not really. She supposed that was an indication that he really did like her. But what did it matter?

  Happy focused on the scenery. It was so pretty here. So quiet. Nevermore soothed her troubles in a way no other place had. It was too bad she wouldn’t be able to stay here. The only thing she could hope for was that Lucy would go with her when she left.

  The two-lane road was edged in tall grass, and scrubby bushes. Up ahead, she saw a huge oak tree, its canopy so huge, it blocked out the sun.

  Her admiration turned to ashes. Oh, no! The tingling of this magic was far too familiar. “Ant, turn around,” she cried. She felt as though she were starting to burn from the inside. Flames licked her bones. Heat snaked over her skin. “You have to turn around!”

  “Whoa, Happy. What’s wrong?”

  “Please,” she said as the tears started to flow. Pain and fear wound together like a dagger, stabbing her chest. “Please.”

  “All right, sweetheart.” He hit the brakes. The truck didn’t slow down. He pumped them hard, but the truck lurched ahead. “What the hell?”

  The vehicle picked up speed.

  “It’s too late,” she whispered. She looked at him, at the handsome, sweet man too nice to woo her. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you—”

  The truck veered, bouncing over the uneven ground, crashing through the bramble, and then it slammed into the trunk of the oak tree.

  Happy jerked forward. The seat belt snapped into place seconds too late to prevent her head from smacking the dash. Stars exploded before her eyes, and then she fell into the darkness, into the cold terror of her worst nightmare.

  Chapter 13

  Gray sat at the bar, leaning over the mug of tea. He had to admit that Ember’s place created a deep sense of tranquillity—even with all the purple. He inhaled the spicy smell of the liquid, feeling rejuvenated already. “What is it?”

  “Good for you, dat’s what,” said Ember. She sat on the barstool next to him. They had finished the cleansing of the café a few minutes earlier, and Gray felt wiped. He wouldn’t have been able to do the work alone—there had been too much negativity. The magical alignment had shifted even worse than he thought. Cathleen had managed to turn the whole place into a swirling vortex of awfulness.

  When Ember had suggested they take a break at the tea shop, he agreed. Taylor had gone off to check on the progress of the search for Trent. Gray hoped the kid was just sleeping off a hangover or off with a girl. Anything a typical teenager might be doing, because that kind of trouble was far better than the kind that had been stalking the residents of Nevermore.

  “Where do you think we should go next?” asked Gray.

  Ember sipped her own concoction. “I think it bein’ decided for us.”

  “You like talking in riddles, don’t you?” The tea was spicy, but there was also an underlying sweetness to it. Cinnamon, definitely.
Maybe . . . Huh. Chili powder? No matter what the ingredients, the tea was doing the trick.

  “You been hidin’ from yourself so long,” said Ember. “You tink everyone hidin’ someting, too.”

  “You’re talking about that so-called gift, aren’t you?” He put down the mug and swiveled to face her. “It’s not what you think. I spent five years finding ways to control it. I wouldn’t have returned to Nevermore at all if my family didn’t need me.” He smiled bitterly. “Lucy doesn’t know. She . . . no. It would scare her.”

  “If you tink she can’t love you just da way you are, den you don’t deserve her.”

  “Love me?” Panic shot through Gray like a poisoned arrow. “Our relationship is . . . um, well-defined. I care about her. And she cares about me. But it’s not a love match.”

  Ember stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed. “Oh, Goddess. You really tink dat, don’t you?”

  Gray was nettled by her reaction. Was it wrong to enjoy being with his own wife? Just because they’d married as a business arrangement, that didn’t mean they couldn’t get along. “My relationship with Lucy isn’t your concern.”

  “Humph. How long she gonna be your wife, den?”

  “Until she’s free of the curse. And Bernard is no longer a threat.”

  “I see.” Ember nodded. “If I told you dat today she’d be free of both curse and enemy, you’d let her go?”

  “Yes,” said Gray, although his heart sank to his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Lucy leaving him today, or any other day. “But that’s not gonna happen.”

  Ember looked down at her mug, and sighed. “Everyting dat must unfold is already in motion. You need everyting inside you to win, Gray. Everyting.”

  Gray felt his stomach pitch. He had never told anyone his secret, although he’d wanted to tell Lucy. He found that he wanted to tell her everything. He didn’t want to keep a wall between them, one built by lies and doubts. He hated to admit it, but he was afraid. Would knowing what had happened to him that night scare her? Would she turn away? Goddess help him, he didn’t want to see a look of disgust or pity in her eyes when he told her the truth.

  Could Lucy accept a man who had a demon dormant within him?

  Lucy spun the dial on the radio, looking for a station that didn’t play country music. No such luck, though. Well, what did she expect from Texas? It was cowboy country, and, apparently, the country of lamenting about losing stuff—hearts, trucks, dogs, ranches, guitars.

  Sighing, she turned off the radio.

  She’d had a pleasant chat with Mordi. The girl was odd, but in a completely charming way. After she’d chosen the headstone for Cathleen’s grave, Lucy had gone off and visited Marcy. Mordi said that talking to dead people could be cathartic. Lucy had sat next to the fresh pile of earth and tried saying something meaningful, but whispering to the ground where Marcy had been interred didn’t make her feel better. There they were, she and Marcy, surrounded by silence and regret.

  She wondered if Gray had finished the café’s cleansing, and where he’d gone off to next. She missed him. She couldn’t believe how quickly he’d turned into her safety net. She felt like nothing bad would happen to her as long as he was within arm’s reach. It seemed selfish to want to feel that way all the time, but she did. And she wanted him to feel safe, too.

  She knew he wanted to tell her something. He’d been unnerved when she told him she’d seen his scar glowing while he wrestled with his nightmare. She thought maybe he would confide in her, but he’d changed the subject.

  It was getting difficult to remember that she was in a temporary relationship. Worse, though, was the ache that gathered in her chest every time she saw him, or thought about him. It was echoes of the desperation she felt before Bernard found her.

  Nevermore was becoming her home, but it belonged to Gray. I am the town, the town is me. Yes. He was beginning to live that truth now. Even if he offered her continued sanctuary, she couldn’t reside in Nevermore and not be with him.

  As the truck crested the hill, she saw a young man walking on the side of the road. He stumbled along, weaving, and it seemed he was muttering to himself. He was dressed head to toe in black. She recognized him from Marcy’s wake.

  She stopped the truck. Earlier, she’d rolled down both windows to let in the fresh spring air. “Trent!”

  He paused, turning toward the car. His skin looked pale and waxy, and his eyes were red and puffy. He stared at her for a long moment, and her skin prickled with unease.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Don’t know. Woke up in a ditch.” He blinked at her. “You’re Gray’s wife. The Rackmore witch.”

  “I’m Lucinda Calhoun now,” she said. “Would you like a ride back to town?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He opened the door and crawled inside. “I dunno what happened to me.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Going to sleep in my own bed.”

  “You don’t remember telling Ren about the fire?”

  Trent blinked at her owlishly. “What fire?”

  “The café. Cathleen set it ablaze, but she didn’t get out in time—unless she didn’t want to get out.”

  “She’s dead?” Trent rubbed his face. “I don’t remember the fire. I don’t remember anything. You got any water?”

  “Sorry.”

  “I feel like I swallowed metal shavings. My head is pounding.”

  “Sounds like a hangover.”

  He sighed. “I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t have experience with hangovers, but I’ve never blacked out.”

  “Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He frowned as he pointed toward the windshield. “What the hell is that?”

  “Oh, Goddess!” Lucinda pulled off the side of the road. She and Trent scrambled out and headed toward the accident.

  The blue pickup had hit the massive trunk of the oak tree hard enough to make its hood crumple like an accordion. Both doors were open.

  Lucinda heard a faint groan.

  They rounded the hood and saw a young man lying on his side. He was scraped up good, his clothing ripped and stained. His eyes were closed, but from the rise and fall of his chest, he seemed to be breathing all right.

  “Holy shit. It’s Ant.”

  “You’re worried about ants?”

  Trent sent her an astonished look. “Anthony Mooreland. This is the sheriff’s little brother.” He squatted down and patted the man’s face. “Ant. Dude. You all right?”

  Ant coughed, then grabbed his ribs and moaned. Lucinda felt helpless. She had a gift, a gift Bernard had stolen, one that could help this young man. She knew it would do no good to try, so she knelt next to him and helped Trent lift Ant into a sitting position.

  “I feel like I’ve been danced on by elephants wearing clodhoppers,” said Ant. “Where’s Happy?”

  “Seriously, man. Now you wanna find your bliss?” asked Trent incredulously.

  Lucinda felt chilled to her bones. He couldn’t mean . . . no, no, no! Happy would never try to find her. She was safe at the convent. Bernard couldn’t hurt her while she lived on neutral ground.

  “That’s her name, moron.” He hissed in pain. “She was hitching into Nevermore and I picked her up. I was taking her into town—to Taylor.”

  Panic welled. “What happened? Tell me!”

  “I don’t know. She was scared. Told me to turn around.” He stared at Lucinda, his brown eyes shadowed with pain. “Something took control of the car and we hit the gods-be-damned tree. Then it was lights out.”

  “Happy!” she yelled. “Happy!” Lucinda stood up and hurried around the truck. She peered into bushes, circled the huge tree, checked the ditches, and screamed for her friend over and over.

  “Lucinda!” Trent grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “She’s gone, all right? Maybe she went down the road to get help or something.”

  Hope speared her for a brie
f moment . . . then faded. No way would Happy abandon someone injured. Not without at least seeing to his comfort. She was smart and brave and loyal. Tears dripped down Lucinda’s cheeks. Who had caused the accident? And had someone taken Happy? “I promised to take care of her. I promised her mother that no harm would come to her daughter. Oh, Goddess!”

  “I know you’re freaked, but you need to hold it together. Call Gray and let him know what happened. I’ll stay with Ant, and you can go search for the girl.”

  “Okay,” said Lucinda. She sucked in a calming breath, and then went in search of an aqueous surface. Trent was right. Gray would help them. She just hoped he could forgive her for keeping one last dangerous secret.

  Gray and Ember stood on the sidewalk in front of the Sew ’n’ Sew watching Taylor fiddle with the lock. Gray couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or amused by Taylor’s stubbornness.

  “Damn thing is stuck,” muttered the sheriff.

  “Or the locks have been changed,” said Gray.

  “No one’s been in here since the owner.” Taylor kept trying to shove in the key, which fit but wouldn’t turn.

  “Maybe it unlocks the back door,” offered Gray.

  “Your puddle’s ringing,” said Taylor. “Why don’t you answer it and leave me alone?”

  Gray looked at the dip in the sidewalk that had collected murky water. Blue sparkles burst from it and then he saw the expression on Lucy’s face. His smile faded instantly. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  He and Ember leaned over the water.

  “There was an accident. The sheriff’s brother hit that big oak tree, the one where Brujo Boulevard forks.”

  “Is he all right?” asked Taylor sharply. He pushed between Gray and Ember and damned near stuck his face in the puddle. Gray understood his friend’s concern. His own worries were dropping like stones into his stomach.

  “He’s alive, but injured. And Happy is gone.”

  “Shit,” said Taylor. “Shit.”

  Gray and Ember turned questioning looks to Taylor. He grimaced. “Ant picked up a girl hitchhiking to Nevermore last night. She passed out in the truck, so he brought her home and let her stay the night. I knew that runaway was trouble the minute I laid eyes on her.”