by Ts McKinney
After today’s encounter, I was beginning to believe in that kind of shit.
I left the museum without saying goodbye to Bella. She’d pulled a disappearing act after my confrontation with Morgan and hadn’t reappeared—wasn’t even hiding out in her office when I returned to retrieve my backpack. As a matter of fact, the entire museum was eerily quiet, not a sound to be heard other than the echo of my footsteps as they clip-clopped against the expensive hardwood floors.
Fuck it. I hadn’t really wanted the job, had only used it as an excuse to move to Salem and gather what information I could find on my family. So why was I feeling so disappointed? Sure, if I managed to live past my twenty-fifth birthday, I would have to find a job, but I had a feeling that looking for one didn’t need to be at the top of my priority list. Maybe picking out a casket, but not looking for work.
As soon as I stepped out of the museum, I felt my energy level and strength start to return. Hell, I hadn’t even noticed how weak I’d felt until I stepped outside. What the fuck was that about? Did they have some sort of protective spell on the place that left everyone else feeling weak as a kitten? Yeah, I was well past the point of wondering if witchcraft was real. Morgan had cemented my belief in the supernatural, paranormal, or whatever the fuck it was.
Outside, the sun was bright, and it was early May, so the weather was still quite pleasant. Back in Tennessee, the month of May was nice too, but beginning to get a little hot in the afternoons. I looked around, noting the tourists who were already beginning to walk the streets, some wearing witch hats and some carrying brooms. If I wasn’t staring down death’s door, I could have enjoyed the festive and beautiful scenery. As it was, like Morgan said, ‘tick tock.’ I didn’t have time to waste on such silly things as enjoying life with friends.
No, I needed to worry about things like finding a vehicle of some sort to help me get from one research destination to the next, researching my ass off to find out every detail I could dig up about Nicodemus Bailey, and, most importantly, finding a way to end the family curse which would claim my life in a short while, if the curse was to be believed. Nope, no time for life. I needed to prepare for death.
With a shrug that clearly meant I didn’t have a fucking clue what I needed to do next, I turned right at the foot of the museum steps and started walking down the sidewalk. I pulled out my cell and hit the number for the local taxi service. I remembered seeing a motorcycle dealership on my trip from the airport. I didn’t have a clue where it was, but knew it existed. Surely the taxi service would help me out.
“Brooms-R-Us Taxi Service. How can I help you?” The chipper voice on the other end of the line answered.
I bit back a laugh. That shit was as funny now as it had been earlier when I’d called for my morning pickup. “Yeah, could I get a pick up at,” I paused, looked down the road and said, “the Salem Witch House?” I didn’t feel comfortable hanging out in front of the museum a minute longer than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t like I was afraid of Morgan, but she definitely wasn’t the type of person I would want to antagonize. Alastair’s warning floated around in my head.
“Flying in your direction now, sir! ETA is seven minutes. Thanks for your business and enjoy your stay in Salem!”
Ha! Flying in my direction. These people were hilarious. I could have enjoyed it if I hadn’t been so freaked out.
I turned back to look at the museum one last time before heading in the direction of the Salem Witch House. From a first-floor window, I saw Bella looking at me, a sad expression on her face. I offered a wave, but she stepped away and closed the curtains. Looking up, my eyes landed on Morgan as she looked down at me from a window on the third floor. A wave didn’t seem appropriate, so I flipped her my middle finger. Hell, yeah, it was childish and immature, but she’d fired me on my first fucking day for absolutely no reason whatsoever and then seemed to relish the fact that she believed I would die in fourteen days. So, I let the bird fly.
In response, she raised her middle finger, did a stylish little twirl with it, and I collapsed onto the concrete sidewalk as pain ripped through my head. It literally felt like my head was trapped in a vice and someone, aka Morgan, was tightening it with the turn of an invisible crank. I tried to scream from the pain, but no sound escaped my throat. My vision started dimming and narrowing, except for the silver sparky things that were exploding behind my eyelids. It reminded me of sparklers I’d played with as a child. I struggled to drag in a breath of air and failed. Surely I’d pass out or die before long? One couldn’t handle pain this intense for long.
Even with my tunnel vision, outlined with sparks, I noticed a small child wandering down the center of the road. No one else seemed to notice she was unattended. I tried to stand, to motion for someone to go to the child before a car appeared on the road, but the pain left me unable to do anything other than watch the terror unfold around me. Within seconds, I saw a car slowly rolling in the child’s direction. There wasn’t anyone behind the wheel, and it looked to be an unattended vehicle innocently rolling down the road…toward the helpless child.
How could no one see what was happening? People were laughing and strolling around like they didn’t have a worry in the world, like a child wasn’t about to be run over by a couple thousand pounds of steel. With what I thought was my last bit of strength, I turned back toward the museum, hoping that Morgan would reverse whatever she’d done to me. Instead of seeing Morgan, though, my eyes focused on the downstairs window. Bella was back at the window, banging fiercely on the window pane. I could see her mouth opening and closing as she screamed over and over again. But like with the child, no one noticed or seemed to hear the banging. I focused on Bella and I could hear her, though I was logically speaking, too far away to actually hear, but I knew she was screaming “Please, no! Not my grandbaby.”
I felt new energy suddenly flowing through me, alleviating the pain that was consuming every corner of my brain. Ignoring the remaining pain which was still crippling, I stood up and started running in the direction of the child. There was no way I would get to her in time to scoop her up and get her to safety. There just wasn’t enough time, not enough space between the child and the car that had picked up speed.
When I reached the little girl, I did something that felt instinctive. I threw my body over her tiny frame and braced for the impact that I feared I might not survive. While the car wasn’t traveling fast, it was still a fucking heavy piece of machinery. I felt the steel as it crashed into my body, the pain and impact knocking the air from my lungs and a scream from my throat. I also felt another random wave of energy wrap around me, cocooning me and the small girl in some sort of protective shell. Oh, the pain was still there, and I could hear people screaming, finally acknowledging that something tragic was happening. The little girl beneath me whimpered.
And then I felt and heard nothing at all.
****
“Are you okay?” A voice was asking and then screaming, “Somebody call an ambulance! He needs an ambulance!”
I tried to move, moaned, and then, without opening my eyes, did a mental evaluation of all the aches and pains that were rudely reminding my body I was still alive. Since everything hurt, I assumed everything was still in working condition, or at least my back or neck hadn’t been broken on impact. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find an older lady leaning over me, a concerned expression making her wrinkles even more prominent. The witch hat sitting askew on the top of her head didn’t help her overall appearance of nurse extraordinaire, either.
“Don’t move, Sweetheart. They’ve called for an ambulance. Everything’s going to be fine,” she assured me as her hands busied themselves by touching every inch of my body in search of injuries.
Suddenly, I remembered everything that had happened and I sat up quickly, looking all around me for the little girl that I’d tried to rescue. “Where’s the little girl? Is she all right? Please tell me she’s okay,” I asked. The panic in my voice incre
ased with each word because I couldn’t find the tiny tot that had caused me to throw my body in front of a moving car.
The old lady moved back several inches and frowned. “What little girl, honey? There wasn’t a little girl. Just you and the car. Did you hit your head?” She looked around at the crowd surrounding us. “I think he’s hit his head. Someone called an ambulance, right? He needs an ambulance.”
There wasn’t a little girl? What. The. Fuck? There was a little girl. I saw her. She was the reason I’d found the strength to throw off whatever had hit me on the sidewalk and make my body move. If it hadn’t been for her, I would still be bent over in debilitating pain.
My eyes cut through the crowd and focused on the windows of the museum. This time, both Bella and Morgan were looking out the window of the third floor. Morgan was standing slightly behind Bella with her hand wrapped around the back of her employee’s neck. As I watched, Morgan tugged her away, and the curtains fell into place, blocking my view of what was happening inside Morgan’s personal living quarters…which were off limits to everyone except Morgan.
Oh, and apparently, Bella.
Feeling confused and exceptionally stupid as I lay in the middle of the road with no less than fifty lookie-loos surrounding me, I was unsure of what needed to happen next. My body was telling me that I was okay, that the car must not have hit me that hard. My mind was telling me not one damned thing that made any sense whatsoever. The strange energy that had been with me since I’d entered Salem that morning was telling me I wasn’t safe…at least not yet.
I looked at my rescuer again and asked, “Are you certain there wasn’t a little girl? I could have sworn she was in the road.”
She laughed nervously and looked around, like she was silently begging someone in the crowd to rescue her from my craziness. The thing was, I hadn’t hit my head. Or at least I didn’t feel like I’d hit my head. Nothing was hurting any more—not even a twinge of discomfort. If I sounded crazy to the crowd of onlookers, it had everything to do with me hallucinating and nothing to do with getting hit by a car.
I needed to make a hasty exit.
“No, there wasn’t a little girl, dear. Don’t you worry now, because the ambulance will be here any minute now. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Everything was far, far, and away from fine.
I stood up quickly and said, “I’m fine.” I took a couple of slow steps, just to assure myself that I hadn’t broken myself in any important spots, and then started moving more quickly. “No need for an ambulance. All’s good. I’m not even sure the car actually hit me.”
I kept edging away from the crowd and toward the spot where I’d asked the taxi to pick me up. I glanced around, looking for the little girl one last time, but saw the mangled car instead of the child. Again—what the fuck had just happened? The entire front end was caved in…and I wasn’t feeling any pain at all.
I fought the urge to start running, putting as much distance between Salem and myself as possible. I felt like a freak.
I felt like I was in danger.
“Hey! I bet the accident was staged!” One of the onlookers yelled.
“Yeah! That’s it! It’s part of a show!” Another person added.
My rescuer didn’t look convinced, so I gave a small bow and a wave to the crowd. Their oohs and ahhs followed me down the sidewalk and a few people started clapping and whistling their appreciation. They’d been given an unforgettable magical show in downtown Salem. The only problem was that it hadn’t been a show. There had been a child in the middle of the road, and that damned car had run over both of us. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I had a feeling that if I didn’t get out of Salem fast, I might not get out at all.
Chapter Three
The taxi driver dropped me at the cycle shop and much to the salesman’s dismay, I refused to purchase a moped, opting for a Ninja motorcycle instead. I might possess a hell of a lot of nerdish qualities, but I’d be damned if I motored around Marblehead on a fucking moped. If I was going to die soon, I wanted to at least die with some Ninja dignity.
By the time the Ninja bike and I sped back into Marblehead, I was about two hours past famished and in desperate need of food. Not a clue as to what was good and what was a tourist trap, I opted for a small fish shack in the less busy section of the coastal property. I’d just ordered a huge platter of fish and chips when I heard someone yelling my name. I searched the busy beach and saw Alastair making his way across the sand. He was wearing some shorts that were way shorter than anything I’d ever seen back home in Tennessee, and absolutely nothing else.
He was built much better than I’d thought for an eighteen-year-old, and I felt a wave of disgusting old man wash over me for noticing. I forced myself to look away before I spent too much time admiring the cool tattoos that covered most of his pale flesh.
Feeling overdressed and incredibly old, I dropped down onto one of the picnic table benches and waited for young Alastair to join me. While I waited, I made a mental note to stop off at a shop and purchase some shorts and T-shirts myself. May as well be comfortable before I died.
“Nicholas! How’s it going?” He frowned as he plopped down right next to me instead of the spot across from me like I’d expected.
Masculine heat radiated from his lean yet muscular frame. I’d noticed guys before, often wondered if I was bisexual, but no other guy had ever talked straight to my cock like Alastair seemed to do. I blurted out, “How old are you?”
Fuck, I sounded like a total creeper.
Alastair’s grin spread all the way across his face. “How old do you think I am, Nicholas?”
A nagging headache settled behind my right eye as I imagined what it would be like to explore my possible bisexuality with the hottie next to me. “Not old enough,” I muttered.
“I’m twenty-two years old, and my youthful appearance is a curse,” he answered with a sexy grin…that disappeared as he continued to look at me. “Not really. I’m just lucky, I guess. Your eyes are flirting with me, but you belong to another. That’s not cool, dude. Are you guys in a fight or something?”
What the fuck was he talking about? “I don’t…l don’t belong to anybody else,” I answered. Quickly, I added, “Not that I’m flirting with you, but I don’t belong to another, as you say,” I finished lamely. Fuck, but I sounded like an idiot.
“Sure. Okay,” he answered like he didn’t begin to believe me.
When they called the number for my fish and chips, I got up to gather my food, and when I returned to the table, Alastair had moved to the opposite side of the table. I cocked my eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything about the move.
“Fish and chips. Good choice,” Alastair commented. “They have the best on the coast.”
Since the food melted in my mouth and caused my taste buds to do a happy dance, I had to agree with Alastair’s comments. This was, hands down, the best fish and chips I’d ever eaten in my life. “Fuck, this is good,” I said after I’d eaten nearly the entire platter. I was stuffed beyond capacity but still wanted to keep shoveling the goodness straight into my mouth.
“Yep, I’d be pissed at you for not sharing if I hadn’t just eaten a platter myself,” Alastair joked. “You’re lean like me. Watch yourself when knocking back one of those platters. People tend to get pissed that we can eat what we want and still stay slim.”
“We who? Are you including me in that?” I snorted out a laugh and said, “I admit that I have been lucky so far. My metabolism is just fast I guess. And by the way, you seem to issue a lot of warnings. You worried about me, Alastair? Afraid a big bad witch is going to fly in here on her broomstick and whisk me away?”
Instead of laughing, he frowned and gnawed at his bottom lip. “No, of course not. Maybe. Probably,” he finally said. “I just don’t understand you, Nicholas. Why did you take a job in Salem? That was just stupid.” His frown deepened. “Hey, why
aren’t you at work anyway? I thought you were supposed to start working for Morgan Goodheart today?”
“Yep. Got fired,” I answered without the slightest bit of remorse. Most of what Morgan had said to me hadn’t made the least bit of sense, but I’d left the museum one hundred percent certain she knew about the curse and about seventy-five percent certain she possessed some sort of magical powers. If nothing else, she could inflict some fucking pain on a body from a fucking distance. “Apparently, Morgan Goodheart didn’t like me. At all. Might have hated me, actually.”
Alastair barked out a laugh. “You didn’t tuck your magic in, did you? I told you that she frowned on that kind of shit, regardless of how weak the magical powers might be. She’s very protective of her coven and the power she holds over them.” He grinned. “She…uh…picked up on your energy, didn’t she? Why, oh why, didn’t you listen to me?” He clutched at his heart like I’d wounded him but his huge smile said otherwise.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “I don’t have any of that supposed energy you keep bringing up, Alastair. I’m just a boring historian, nothing nearly as exciting as you’d make me out to be.”
That was right, wasn’t it? I didn’t have magical energy. Just a family curse.
“Ookaaayyy,” Alastair answered. “Why, again, are we playing games with each other? It’s not like you’ve been trying to keep your vibe a secret and when you didn’t, I didn’t either.” He shook his head and reached over to swipe some of my chips. “You’re a very confusing man, Nicholas Bailey.”
I shoved another small piece of fish into my mouth and shrugged. “I don’t mean to be. It’s just that the job with Morgan wasn’t the real reason I came here. I really came to investigate a thing with my family. Not that it’s real or anything but the big family curse started in Marblehead about back in 1617, so I didn’t want there to be any connections to that weirdness. Anyway, so I got fired and now I need…”
