by Lila Kane
When someone slides into the seat across from me, I whip my head up.
It’s the librarian.
She’s still wearing her cat-eye glasses and looking matter-of-fact. “Hi, Willow,” she says.
“I wasn’t planning on company for breakfast.”
“How about we get the heavy stuff off the table? I was rude to you, you tried to set my library on fire. Let’s call it even.”
I narrow my gaze at her.
She extends a hand across the table. “I’m Cheyenne.”
Reluctantly, I take it and feel the same hum between our palms as I did with Ryan. “You’re one of them,” I say.
“One of who?” she asks, looking amused.
“One of those people Ryan won’t tell me about until I get the hell out of Shadow Hill.”
She laughs. “Sounds like something he’d say.”
The waitress walks by to refill my coffee and I wait until she leaves before lowering my voice and asking, “What are you?”
She frowns. “That was rude.”
“You’re welcome to leave.”
The frown disappears and she laughs again. “I like you, Willow.”
“I’m still deciding about you.”
“Fair enough.” She leans in, places her palms flat on the table, and says, “I’m a werewolf.”
I glare at her. “Very funny.”
Cheyenne takes off her glasses, rubs them on the corner of her sweater calmly. “I believe we met before. In your mother’s house.”
The seat squeaks when I straighten. “You’re lying.”
“No.”
“This isn’t…I mean. Witches, sure. Psychics, yeah. Werewolves?”
I lean back when the waitress delivers me pancakes with bacon on the side. “Anything else I can get you?” she asks.
A trip back to reality maybe. But I just smile and shake my head. “No thanks.”
Cheyenne snags a piece of bacon. “You forgot vampires.”
“Vampires. Holy shit. You’re not serious.”
“One hundred percent serious.”
I shake my head. “No…you’re trying to scare me.”
She laughs and helps herself to more bacon. I’m too shocked by her words to stop her.
“You don’t look scared to me,” she says.
“Why are you telling me this? Ryan wouldn’t tell me.”
“Ryan’s just doing what he thinks is best. But he’s pretty black and white about it all. As long as you agreed to leave before tomorrow night, it’s fine if I give you a little information.”
I spread the butter on my pancakes and then cover them with syrup. “I did agree. But I’m coming back.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And when that time comes, I will happily tell you more. As long as there’s not fire involved.”
I can’t help but smile. I might not understand how or why I can call the fire, but it has come in handy more than once in the last few days. “Werewolves don’t like fire?”
“Not just any fire. A witch’s fire. It’s fairly lethal.”
“Wow. You really do like me if you’re giving away all your secrets.”
She laughs, a carefree sound that makes me realize she’s not much older than me. It’s the glasses and the librarian label that makes her seem older. She checks her watch.
“Okay, time to get to work. Stop by if you’re curious. I could give you a few books to look at.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
She snags another piece of bacon. “Thanks for sharing your breakfast.”
I watch her walk away and eat my pancakes since that’s all there is left. Werewolves. That’s one I haven’t encountered before. Sure, there are stories, but I’ve never seen real evidence. And even now I’m wondering if she was pulling my leg.
Except she knew I saw a wolf in my mother’s house. How would she have known that?
Damn. I kind of like her despite all that. She’s strong and confident and way more easygoing than Ryan. I wonder how they know each other.
I wonder if they’re dating.
Taking another hasty bite, I erase that thought completely. Ryan’s an asshole. I already told him this. Who cares if he and the wolf are dating?
But if she’s a wolf…does that mean Ryan is one too?
After another bite, I push the pancakes aside. No way. Two werewolves? That can’t be. And it still doesn’t explain why I can’t be here during a full moon. Is the entire town infected with werewolves and I’ll be the innocent witch bystander that gets gobbled up?
If that were the case, why didn’t the ghosts warn me about them instead?
The waitress drops off the check and I pull cash out of my wallet. I already sent an e-mail off to my editor and he sounded interested in the story of the Shadow Hill Hotel. It’s been covered before, but with a different angle. And I plan on focusing a lot more on the history.
The part that might apply to me.
After leaving a decent tip for the waitress since she let me have my space, I haul my bag over my shoulder and exit the restaurant. The sun shines bright overhead and it promises to be a warm late May day.
I scan the street both ways and watch families and friends walking along Main Street. It looks normal and peaceful. Idyllic, even. But it doesn’t slip my mind that some of these people could be like Cheyenne. Werewolves or vampires. Or maybe even witches like me.
I shake my head. Crazy. And now I’m going to try to talk to a ghost.
#
It doesn’t take long to find the cemetery near the hotel. It’s a short hike that takes me away from the main building and to a clearing in the pines. Wind flutters the trees and I peer over my shoulder. There’s a hedge maze behind the hotel, the greenery filling in. I can hear laughter from within and sigh. Too bad I have to leave tomorrow, just when things are starting to get good.
I turn my attention back to the headstones. Some are nothing more than crosses made out of heavy boards, looking worn from years in the weather. Others are actual tombstones with names and epitaphs carved in them. I reach the end of one aisle and pause.
The name on the top of the largest tombstone in the bunch reads Selena Donnelly, Keeper of the Flame. Same last name. And as I’ve learned from my research a lot of times women keep their last names since power passes on through the females in the family.
My heart races and I glance around. Keeper of the Flame. That’s what the voices had said to me inside the panel at the hotel. I search my memory for the name Selena Donnelly, but come up empty. What if she’s an ancestor or someone I need to know? And why is she buried here then? Does she have some sort of link to the Hill family?
“Willow,” a voice says.
It’s barely above a whisper, the same voice I heard inside the hotel. When my gaze whips up, I see a figure at the edge of the cemetery. Her black hair flows over her shoulders and her dress is old, from decades ago. Maybe more than a century.
“Selena?” I ask.
When her lips curve, a jolt of alarm shoots through me. Selena is a ghost. There’s another first.
She turns and walks toward the hedge maze. She looks so solid, so real, it’s hard to believe she’s not flesh and blood.
“Selena,” I call.
“Not here,” she says.
I trip over a twig as I race after her. From the corner of my eye, I see a group of people walking through the trees. A tour maybe? I peer closer, trying to place Logan. He mentioned doing hikes through here.
When I look back, Selena is walking into the maze. I clutch my bag tight on my shoulder and follow her. “Wait. Selena.”
I glimpse the hem of her white dress as she disappears around another corner. “Follow me, Willow.”
I grit my teeth, racing after her. She’s quick for a ghost. I round another corner, think I’ve found her, but she’s gone again.
I freeze, irritated, when a cool breeze blows against my cheek. I whip around and she’s standing there. Only five feet away from me.
With a yelp, I back into the wall of bushes, catching my hair in the leaves.
“I won’t hurt you,” she says.
My heart still slams against my chest at the sight of her. “I‒you…” I blow out a slow breath, trying to compose myself. “I heard you in the hotel.”
“He’s not who you think he is.”
I step away from the bushes and take in everything. Her dress, the purple stone in her necklace, the tendrils of her hair that tickle her collarbone. “Who?” I ask softly.
She lifts her chin and the sound of voices floats to us in the center of the maze. It’s the tour group. The guide’s voice is low and male. I can’t tell from here if it’s Logan or not.
“Do you mean Logan?” I ask.
“He wants the key,” she says, stepping back.
“The key. Where’s the key?”
She gives a sad smile. “Right here.”
I scan the ground, hoping to find what she’s talking about lying in easy view. When I feel another whoosh of air, I gasp at finding her standing directly in front of me. She reaches out, her finger close to my chest. “You are the key.”
The cold coming off of her is so strong it chills me to my bones. My breath catches and freezes in my throat. I’m suspended for a long moment of disbelief. Then, in the blink of an eye, she vanishes.
The voices are louder now, tourists standing outside the maze somewhere. One of them definitely sounds like Logan. If Selena is right, he wants me for some reason. He’s the one she was telling me not to trust.
I remember taking three right turns to find Selena in the maze. So I walk back toward the entrance, taking all left turns, my stomach churning. I’d kissed Logan. I’d told him I heard a ghost. Does that mean anything to him? Is that why he’s been so friendly?
Logan’s voice reaches me as he explains the maze to the hikers. “Her family said she went crazy and would walk in the maze for hours and hours, never able to find her way out.”
Rounding the last corner, I step out of the maze and pause. The entire group is looking at me.
“Hey,” Logan says, grinning at me. “Looks like this one was able to find her way out.”
There are a few chuckles. Most of the hikers have packs on their backs or carry water bottles. They’re dressed in long pants and sweaters, and look eager to try the maze.
“If anyone wants to give it a go,” Logan says, gesturing to the entrance of the maze, “be my guest.”
They all walk inside. I hear voices and laughter as they disappear until only Logan and I are left. He turns to me instantly, hand sliding down my arm to take my hand.
“Strange meeting you here,” he says, smiling.
“I thought you took hiking tours.”
He shrugs. “Sometimes they see the maze from the trail‒or get interested when I tell them the history of the cemetery. I don’t mind. I get paid either way. We’re just finishing up this one, so we took a detour.”
His fingers are warm on mine. I can still feel the cold from Selena standing so close to me. Right now, I wish she was here to tell me what to say.
“You okay?” Logan’s dark eyes are fathomless when he peers into mine.
I nod, forcing calm. “Sure. I was doing some exploring.”
“You should come on the hike then. It’s all about the area around here.”
“Maybe I will sometime.”
When he smiles, it’s hard for me to remember Selena warned me about him. Why can’t I trust him? He hasn’t done anything to me so far. He’s been a lot more straightforward than Ryan. And he kind of makes me feel like I’m drowning a little when I stare into his eyes.
“How about we try again for dinner? Or we can make a day of it tomorrow. More sightseeing, and then dinner afterward.”
I want to say yes. I want to spend time with him. And I want more answers. But tomorrow…tomorrow is the full moon and I promised Ryan I’d leave in the morning. He’ll make sure that I do.
“I can’t tomorrow,” I tell him. I bite my tongue before telling him where I’m going to be. “I have a bunch of errands to run and more research to do.”
“I can help. I don’t have any groups to take out.”
Cold air brushes my cheeks and I swallow, glancing around for Selena. It feels like she’s sending me a warning. “I‒no, that’s okay. We can plan something for later in the week, though.”
“Hmm…” His dark eyes meet mine and he brushes a finger down my cheek. “I think you’re trying to avoid me.”
I laugh, though it comes out rough. “No.”
A shadow blocks the sun and his eyes are so dark, they’re almost black. “Are you sure?”
I try to swallow, but it feels like something is caught in my throat. My gaze is stuck on Logan’s and this is the first time I’ve felt nervous around him. “Logan,” I whisper.
He smiles. “Yes?”
I finally break free and release a breath. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I just…I’m not feeling very well.”
“That’s too bad,” he says, brows furrowing in concern. “Like I said, we’re just finishing up the tour. I could take you home.”
“No. No, it’s not a big deal.”
“You sure?”
I nod and pull my hand from his. “Sorry,” I say again. “I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe I’ll check in on you tonight.”
I manage another nod and try to walk at a normal pace to get back to the parking lot where my car waits. Away from Selena and the cold and Logan, everything seems normal again. And warm. And all the sudden, I have no idea why Logan made me uneasy in the first place. Sure, Selena warned me about him, but taking advice from a ghost?
That might not be my best move.
When I reach my car, I sigh and glance back to the hedge maze. I see Logan’s group gather around him again. He gestures, giving them more information, and I shake my head. He’s a guide and I’m afraid of him?
Doesn’t make sense.
I open the door, hop in and toss my bag into the passenger seat. As I do, the glint of metal catches my eye.
Shifting my bag to the floor, I spot a necklace on the seat. The chain is brushed gold, dark and antique looking. On the end is a stone, purple, almost the size of a quarter. The exact stone I’d seen Selena wearing.
How did that get in here? As I scan the parking lot, I feel the familiar chill return. Selena left me her necklace somehow.
I pick up the chain and stuff the stone into my pocket. I need the Book of Shadows. I need to figure out why she left this.
Chapter 8
Logan is a vampire.
There’s a picture of the lavender stone Selena gave to me right in the middle of the Book of Shadows. And next to it, in one of my ancestor’s cursive writing, it reads, For protection from creatures of the night.
He’s got to be a vampire. With those intimidating dark eyes and a specific warning from Selena telling me he’s not who I think he is, followed by the gift of the necklace.
I scoot my chair out from the desk and start pacing. So far, I’ve got vampires and werewolves here in Shadow Hill, and a ghost giving me gifts. Shadow Hill is like some sort of paranormal vortex.
And I’m some kind of key.
Despite Ryan’s secrecy, I trust enough of what he’s said to get out of town tomorrow night. Just in case. Better than causing a problem I don’t have information on.
I check my watch. It’s getting close to dinner and I don’t want to be here by myself.
I grab my jacket and purse, shove the Book of Shadows in my satchel, and head out the door. The sun blinds me and I slip sunglasses on as a thought occurs to me.
If Logan is a vampire, how can he be outside in the daylight? Or is that just a myth? I’ve seen him outside during the day more than once, including this morning, and it didn’t seem to be a problem for him.
I jog down the outdoor stairs, swing around to the parking lot, and pull out my keys. Then freeze.
My front tire is
flat.
“What the hell?” I step closer and then make a noise of irritation. “Shit.”
All the tires are flat. Every single one of them. I kneel next to the front one and examine the tire for slashes or nails or anything that might explain it.
“What’s going on?” a voice asks from behind me.
I whip around. It’s Logan. He’s perched against his car, legs stretched out and ankles crossed.
I grit my teeth. “Someone let the air out of my tires.”
He straightens. “All of them?”
“All of them.”
Logan strolls forward and does the same inspection of the tires I just did. “Shit. That’s messed up. Why would someone do that?”
“I have no idea. Why would someone do that?”
He gives me a blank look like he has no idea what I’m getting at. And I can’t flat out ask him if he was the one who messed around with my tires. He hasn’t done anything suspicious. Blaming him because of a ghost is going to make me sound crazy, not the other way around.
When he stands, he takes my hand so swiftly, I don’t have time to back away. “We should tell the police.”
My mouth opens, caught off guard. “What?”
“In case someone did this on purpose. You know, just file a report‒or tell them what happened so they know.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Don’t you think?”
“I…” I’m confused. Why would he suggest we tell the police if he’s involved? He wouldn’t. “Maybe we should.”
He nods. “I think that would be best. Are you okay?”
I frown. “Yes. Pissed off, though.”
He laughs. “I would be, too. The police station is just down the street. Do you want me to drive?”
“Thank you.”
I get in the passenger seat, squeezing my bag down at my feet. The car smells like Logan. Like pine and spice and something mysterious I can’t define. Like secrets.
Logan eases into the seat next to me and turns to me before starting the car. “Do you feel better?”
“Excuse me?”
“Earlier you said you didn’t feel well. That’s why I came to check on you. To make sure you felt better.”
