Why did he have to be perfect, and why had he been here?
Why did she have to be a Pritchett?
When Heather got home she freaked out. Not a little freak out. A big one.
She tore picture frames off shelves, flipping them over to rip out the photos of her and her sisters, her and Theresa, her and Aunt Carol. The picture she’d never taken down from her short stint at college of her and a bunch of classmates at a local bar. She’d never told anyone that Isaiah’s face was the second from the left, the first man she’d attempted the rite with. There was the painting her sister Bonnie had done using her magic to push the watercolors around with her thoughts. She’d given it to her for her birthday two years ago. It was probably one of the only paintings on the planet made without the artist touching the fucking canvas.
Heather threw it into the back of her closet. The crumpled pictures went back there too, along with their empty frames.
She ended up on the balcony of her small apartment, breathing harshly into the frigid air, clouds of her breath puffing out as she tried to calm down. She was sobbing. The keening cry she was making finally made it past the pounding heartbeat in her ears and she dropped to her knees on the freezing concrete. The only picture she hadn’t ripped out of its frame was one of her and her mom, and she held it in her hands like it could somehow help her. In it Patrice Pritchett was smiling, their arms wrapped around each other under the bowing limbs of a tree. It was like the tree was trying to hug them too, and since her mom was there that was completely possible.
Everything was so fucked up. Heather’s entire life was one giant clusterfuck nightmare.
She didn’t want to do the rite. Her aunts were going to kill her if she didn’t. Her mom might kill herself, or the eastern seaboard, if she lost the only daughter she had who wasn’t power hungry or outright evil. And then there was number 21. Completely unaware that just by trying to find a date he’d signed up to die.
Drops fell onto the glass and Heather tried to wipe them away with her thumb, but more fell until their faces in the photograph were blurred and distorted. She was shivering. She had to go inside.
Heather stood up, tore the door open and slammed it behind her. Her hands were shaking and the frame thumped to the floor. She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit in her apartment, turn on the TV and pretend she wasn’t going to kill someone. Even if he didn’t die in front of her, even if it was never printed in the paper. She would know. She would know.
She grabbed a pillow from the couch, pressed her face into it and screamed. And screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
When she ripped air back into her lungs she choked and ended up coughing as she dropped onto the edge of the couch. Her phone dinged and lit up next to her. She grabbed it, lying back on the couch and wrapping herself the blanket she kept there to try and warm up. It was Rick.
Of course it was. That’s the way her luck was going at the moment.
Unlocking her phone she opened the text message and read: It was nice seeing u. Any time ur bored at 2am drop by.
Number 21 was perfect for everything she needed to do, everything her family needed her to do. Rick was perfect in a completely different, really good way. Rick wasn’t needy, or pushy. Rick was incredible in bed. He made her breakfast. When they’d been dating he’d laughed with her, watched bad sci-fi movies with her, and bought her a small stuffed octopus because he said they were cooler than dogs. The octopus was buried in the back of her closet somewhere.
But the best part — Rick had nothing to do with her family. Which meant she couldn’t have him. She could never have him. Not even after the rite, because then it would be her job to get knocked up, to have more daughters for Herja to demand the rite from. A daughter, because a son hadn’t been born to a Pritchett woman since Esther Pritchett had lost hers. If her family found out she was sleeping with Rick that would be the end of normalcy with him.
Who was she kidding? Normal was already over.
Heather let the phone slip between her fingers and heard it thud to the carpet. The tears had stopped. Her breathing was oddly calm; she was going numb. She was hollow, because she had no one. No one she could call who would understand, who could make this better. There was no better.
Chapter Four
February 13th
The crashing music of her ringtone blasted out and Heather groaned as she pulled out of a restless sleep. It was OK Go’s ‘Hello My Treacherous Friends’, which was awkwardly appropriate for her life at the moment:
Hello, my treacherous friends,
and thank you for joining me here tonight.
I brought you all here to discuss, as I must,
how grateful I am for your insights.
It was a strange coincidence that she had found the song again, fallen in love with it, and made it her ringtone a few weeks before her entire family decided to betray her. She was definitely not grateful for any of their insights though. Leaning down to grab the phone Heather saw a number she didn’t know, but with a sigh she swiped to answer.
“Hello?” Heather draped her arm over her eyes to block out the light.
“Hey, number 19. Or do I get to call you Heather now that I got the email confirming we picked each other?” A low laugh rumbled across the line and Heather sat bolt upright. It was number 21.
“Uh, hey, sure?” She rubbed the heel of her hand into her eye, trying not to think of his blond hair, the way his dimples appeared when he smiled, or the way her name sounded in his voice. “And what do I call you, number 21?”
“Neil.” She heard him exhale across the line, “So, I know there’s probably some rule about waiting to call, but I wasn’t sure if you might have written another number down and I wanted to be the first. Is that weird?”
“I didn’t write anyone else’s number down.” The confession slipped from her lips before she’d really thought about how that would come across. There was a beat of silence on the line, and then his cocky voice returned.
“Oh, really?” He laughed again, “Well, since we’re being honest, I didn’t write down anyone else’s either.” Silence returned. Heather was blushing and she didn’t know why. She shouldn’t feel the excited flutter in her stomach, the stupid smile moving across her mouth, the giddy feeling that came from someone admitting that they liked you, that they were attracted to you.
But it was there.
“Well, then. I guess we —” She started talking, but number 21, Neil, cut her off.
“Go on a date with me.” It wasn’t a question. He hadn’t actually asked her. Instead, it was the same tone he’d used when he’d told her to write down his number. That cocky bravado, that playful tone that challenged her to defy him.
She didn’t want to say yes, and at the same time she did. He was the solution to her problem. He was exactly who she had been looking for when she’d gone to that stupid speed dating event. And he had called her. That had been her agreement with herself, right? First one to call? Even if he was the only one she’d given the opportunity to call? Guilt was starting to edge out that warm, fluttery feeling.
“Neil…” Heather sighed, gritting her teeth. Theresa’s voice echoed in her head, ‘Shut up, Heather, and just do it!’ This wasn’t just for her, it was for the family, for her mom.
“It’s just a date.” Neil was being persuasive, but he didn’t need to be. He didn’t need to persuade her to kill him — that was just fucked up.
“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you.” Heather was smiling again and she bit her lip, trying to stifle it. She was not going to smile while planning a murder.
“YES!” Neil’s voice burst over the phone, and then they were both laughing. “God, I have no idea why I was so nervous to do this. I’m never nervous.”
“Then why were you?” Heather leaned back against the arm of the couch as their laughter died down.
“I don’t know, you’re different.”
“You have no idea,” she mumbled.
“T
he witch thing?” Neil asked, still so casual about it.
“It’s not a joke, Neil. I really am.”
“Okay then. You’re a witch. I still want to go on a date with you. How’s tonight?”
Heather muttered a curse. She couldn’t believe this guy. Who in their right mind wouldn’t run away from the crazy twenty-something claiming to be a witch? Apparently Neil, number 21, that’s who. “Tonight is perfect.”
“Great. Do you want to… meet somewhere?” She could imagine Neil smiling the way he had the night before.
“Sure, I’ve got a shift at my aunt’s shop today. There’s a bar about a block from there called Marley’s Pub. They’ve got food and drinks?” Heather was picking at the lint on her pajama pants, waiting to see if he’d back out.
“Perfect. I’ll look it up and meet you there, does six thirty work?” Neil sounded happy. He sounded like a happy guy.
Heather was a horrible person. A horrible, terrible — “Yeah, six thirty sounds great. I’ll see you then!”
“Today’s going to be a great day, I can feel it. See you tonight, Heather.” The call ended and Heather sighed. When she went in to work, everyone was going to grill her. She was going to have to describe Neil to the last detail. She was going to have to promise to complete the rite. She was going to have to listen to every little step of the ritual from God knows how many cousins, aunts, and well-meaning obscure relatives.
She was going to be the side-show all day.
She wasn’t just the side-show. She was the main attraction, because Aunt Marguerite had decided to come to town. The moment her car had pulled up outside, Heather had ducked out the back of the shop, walked half a block and cut across the street to grab a cup of coffee and some sugar coated carbs from the bakery case.
Heather devoured the pastry and was halfway through her coffee when she finally located the internal strength to face the self-proclaimed matriarch of the Pritchetts; Marguerite Evangeline Pritchett. Taking a deep breath she walked out of the café and almost slammed directly into Neil. He caught her by the shoulders before stepping back, his hands dropping away from her.
“Uh, hey!” Neil rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the street before turning back to her. “I just came down here on my lunch break to make sure I knew where this bar was. I’m not, you know, stalking you or anything crazy.”
Heather shook her head, “No, no, I didn’t think anything like that. I was just snagging a coffee.” She tried to smile, and his blue eyes were on her face when he smiled back.
“This is weird. I’m really sorry.” Neil sounded nervous again.
“It’s fine. I’m looking forward to tonight, not planning on cancelling or anything, I swear.” That made his smile more vibrant, those dimples appearing in his cheeks. He was cute, hot even. He wore a peacoat and a dark gray scarf that made his blue eyes pop.
“Good, that’s really good. So, you work around here?” He scanned the storefronts nearby.
She pointed behind him. “Cambridge Herb & Tea, Co. It’s behind you, and I’ve gotta get back.” Heather shrugged and tried to finish her coffee, but Neil turned around with a mischievous grin.
“Let me walk you back.”
She almost choked on her coffee, “Uh, no. No, that’s really not necessary. Trust me.”
He laughed, “Now who’s nervous? What would be so bad about me walking you to work? I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
“You know how you said you don’t have any weird family issues?” He nodded, “Well, all I have are weird family issues, and that shop is crammed full of my family right now, and you really don’t want to meet them.”
“Oh no, now I really want to walk you to work. Come on.” Neil grinned and grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the shop. She tried to pull back on his grip but he had her moving through the other lunchtime pedestrians as they inched closer and closer to her aunt’s shop.
“Neil, really, you don’t want to meet them.” She pulled on his hand, but his grip tightened almost painfully before he relaxed it again.
“It’s not going to scare me off, whatever it is.” Then they were in front of the shop and he was opening the door to walk in. Heather’s heart was beating so fast it seemed to be tripping over itself. She felt nauseous and dizzy and wanted to run, but he wasn’t letting go of her hand.
“Heather!” Bonnie’s voice called out from behind the register. She flipped up a part of the counter and walked towards her with a big grin, but those blue eyes were trained completely on Neil. Heather suddenly had the urge to push Neil behind her. More Pritchett women were turning towards them. It was like she had dropped a carcass in front of a pride of lions. “Oooo, now who’s this?”
“I’m Neil.” He grinned, all kinds of charming as he waved at Bonnie. “So, are you a witch too?”
The shock on Bonnie’s face was totally worth the fallout that would come from this. “What?!” She screeched, her glare turning on Heather in an instant. “Heather!”
“Hey, it’s okay! I don’t care if you guys are a tribe, or a coven, or whatever. I’ve got a date with Heather tonight.” Neil was still smiling, and Bonnie was fuming. “So, are you? Or is Heather just special?”
“Heather is an idiot.” Bonnie turned back to Neil with a smile. Of all the days that Bonnie couldn’t screw with her, this was the one. They needed her to do the rite, which meant not messing with her. “But yeah, I’m a witch.”
“Neat. So that’s what all the herbs are for?” Neil was looking around the shop at the shelves of tea tins, and glass bottles of potions cleverly disguised as pre-bottled teas. There were things that helped with fertility, depression, weight loss, and clear skin. Unlike most of the bullshit in vitamin shops across the planet, the things you could buy at Cambridge Herb & Tea, Co. actually worked.
“I don’t make the teas, but yes, some of our family can work with herbs.” Bonnie was gritting her teeth as she spoke, clearly irritated. The audience behind the counter was in shock. Heather had told an outsider the truth. Even worse, she’d told one who was marked for the rite. The rule had always been that a Pritchett could only tell the one she planned to live her life with. After at least three daughters. And only with the approval of the family.
Heather was kind of happy that the family couldn’t do or say anything today, because today was the day she completed the rite. No locking Heather in an illusion, no levitating her off the floor and leaving her there to think about what she’d done. Today, Heather had a free pass.
She smiled at everyone as they gawked at her.
“If you don’t make the teas, what do you do?” Neil tilted his head as he stared at Bonnie.
“I’m an elemental witch.”
“Oh, so, you’re like the chemist of the family. Periodic table and all that. I remember taking chemistry in college, I was kind of shit at it, but that’s cool. You must be smart.” He looked sincere, and that’s why Heather started laughing. The insulted look on Bonnie’s face only made her laugh harder until she was doubled over. Tisha was covering her mouth to hide her own mirth behind the counter, and soon half the family was giggling.
“Not chemistry, you idiot!” Bonnie dug a lighter out of her back pocket, flicked it and then lifted her other hand. The flame bowed towards her hand and then grew until it was a small fire floating an inch above her palm. Bonnie’s face was brightly lit by it as she put the lighter away. She couldn’t create fire, or water, from nothing, but once it was there she could control it. Neil’s eyes widened as she held it forward, leaving her palm a few inches in front of him. To Neil’s credit he didn’t even lean back, there wasn’t a single fear response from him.
“Cool. So you meant you can control elements? That’s cool.”
“Cool? Are you kidding me?!” Bonnie closed her hand over the fire and it disappeared. She turned around, exasperated, looking to the cousins for help.
“I can create illusions! Make you see anything I want you to.” Tisha was trying to sound seductiv
e, but instead she just looked desperate.
“I’m the one that makes the potions! I know you asked about it, a lot of them are mine. But Heather’s mom is the one that grows the herbs for us.” Wendy smiled, pushing her hair behind her ears.
Was her family seriously trying to flirt with Neil? Heather rolled her eyes.
“What can you do, Heather?” He slipped his hand into hers, his thumb tracing across the back of her hand. The whole room froze. She wasn’t laughing anymore, and the urge to run into traffic was back with a vengeance. Since when had she developed such suicidal tendencies? Maybe she should grab a bottle of the anti-depressant stuff. His blue eyes traced her face. He was accepting everything so casually, but she couldn’t tell him about her.
“Heather. I need to speak with you immediately.” Marguerite’s voice, cold and powerful, came from the doorway to the back. “You weren’t here when I arrived, and I flew all the way here to see you specifically. I’d appreciate not having to wait any longer.”
Neil’s grip tightened on her hand and she kind of wanted to throw up.
“You can leave, Neil. I understand you two have a date planned later and Heather will be there. For now, she has family business to deal with.” Marguerite pointed at the door, and Carol raised her hand so that it opened behind him, letting in a blast of cold air. The aunts had spoken. She silently pleaded with Neil not to argue.
“Right, yeah.” He let go of her hand and pulled his scarf up his neck a bit. “I’ll see you tonight, Heather.”
“Yes, tonight.” Heather watched as Neil gave everyone a more subdued smile and stepped out of the shop. Carol shut the door behind him with a flick of her hand. Then everyone started yelling at once.
“What the fuck, Heather?” Bonnie shouted.
“Are you doing him tonight?” Tisha was grinning.
“Can you believe he was so calm?” Wendy laughed.
“He’s really cute!” Jenny stood up from behind the counter, holding an armful of sage, smiling broadly. For a moment Heather was grateful Jenny had stayed quiet. If she had decided to talk about her ability to brainwash people with a touch, that might have been the last thing Neil could take.
The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set) Page 19
