by Davis, L. C.
"Yeah, but you haven't dated a guy since Dennis."
The mention of his name made my skin crawl, and the air in the room went stale. "We're not dating. It was a one-time thing. I met him at the party last night. We were both drunk and he came back here."
"What was his name?"
"I don't know."
"You fucked a guy and you don't even know his name?" He cocked an eyebrow. "My little Daniel is all grown up and turned into a raging slut."
"Yeah, I took a page from your book. I mean, he gave me some bullshit stripper name, but I don't even remember what it was."
"Now he's a stripper?"
"No! I don't know. Maybe. It doesn't matter, I'm never going to see him again."
"Maybe I'm new to the whole dating dudes thing, but leaving something at a guy's place is what every girl I've been with does when she wants an excuse to come back. Just so you know."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Be careful," he said, growing serious. "Tell me if he comes around again, alright? I'd like to meet this one-night stand of yours."
"I'm definitely not going to do that."
Before he could respond, a noise from the living room drew our attention. Nick was out the bedroom door first as my front door fell shut. "Shit."
I grabbed the back of his shirt. "Since we're giving unsolicited relationship advice, how about you don't chase after the guy you just hypnotized like a complete stalker?"
"You don't understand. I have to keep him safe."
"From what?"
"From my family, for one thing. If they find out there's a witch in town --"
"God, not this again."
He shirked out of my grasp. "You don't have to believe it, all you have to do is believe that my family believes it."
"Fair enough, but why would your family want to hurt Holden? Your aunt and uncle seemed ready to adopt him at the party."
He was close to giving me an answer. I could feel it. Like so many other times, that final coin toss came up tails and I could feel that door slam shut in my face well before he muttered some half-assed apology and walked out the real one.
Eight
HOLDEN
My second week in Stillwater passed far more peacefully than the first, unless you counted having to avoid Nick in town. I had made myself scarce ever since leaving Daniel's apartment that night, but he was shameless in his attempts to get me to "hear him out." I didn't know how he had manipulated me or what information he had gotten out of me, but I wasn't any more interested in hearing his explanation than I was in attending his aunt's next gathering. As insistent as he was, I still wasn't sure why he hadn't shown up at my apartment. He had already proven himself more than willing to cross boundaries.
Whatever the reason was, I was grateful I had some sanctuary. I timed my trips into town for when I was sure he would be working and was on my way back from picking up groceries and a few things for Mrs. Marrin when my second least-favorite resident of Stillwater made an appearance out of nowhere.
"Holden!" Daniel called, jogging over to me from across the street. I walked faster. I had a vague recollection of him wearing an eye patch the night Nick had taken me to his place, but it was fuzzy just like everything else. I probably should have been more concerned about what had happened while I was unconscious and alone with two practical strangers, but no matter how furious I was with Nick, there was just some part of me that couldn't bring myself to believe he would let anything bad happen to me. It was utterly illogical, but it wasn't like I could go to the police, anyway.
"Sorry, can't talk. I've got a cat in the freezer and he's not going to bake himself into a pie."
Daniel fell into step beside me. Stupid tall people with their lengthy strides. "Funny. I actually wanted to talk about what happened the other night."
"Sure," I said, stopping and turning to face him. "Let's talk about what happened after Nick drugged me on your couch."
He cringed. "He didn't -- Look, I don't know what he did, and I don't condone it at all, but nothing happened. He's not like that. Neither am I."
"Comforting."
I expected some half-assed retort, not the look of genuine guilt that crossed his features. "Like I said, I still don't know what that was, but I'm sorry. Maybe I made the wrong decision by not calling an ambulance, I just --" he paused, looking over his shoulder. For such a small, friendly town, I was beginning to realize people did a lot of that. "Could we talk somewhere in private?"
"You'll understand if I'd rather not be alone with you again."
"Okay, somewhere public but quieter. The diner? Five minutes of your time, that's all I'm asking."
"You don't really have the right to ask anything from me, but you're getting what you wanted. I'm month-to-month with Mrs. Marrin, so as soon as I can find another place, I'm out of here."
He frowned. "There's no need for that. I saw the cat this morning," he muttered. "That's part of what I wanted to tell you. Please, Holden, just five minutes."
I glanced back at the post office. "If Nick sent you --"
"He didn't."
I pursed my lips and hesitated. Maybe I could use this to my advantage. "Fine, but if I hear you out, you need to do a favor for me in return."
He watched me with an "I knew it," look. "What do you want?"
"Nick's your BFF? Tell him to back off. I'd rather not be stalked and harassed throughout the remainder of my time here."
He cringed. "I'll talk to him." He reached for the bags in my arms before I could stop him and started walking towards the diner. "I think he's just so used to having girls fling themselves at him he doesn't realize when he's coming on strong."
"A teenager who just discovered cologne is 'strong.' Nick is in a whole other category."
"I don't want to be 'that guy' who excuses inexcusable behavior just because he's friends with someone, but he means well," he said, holding the door open for me once we made it to the diner. I wasn't crazy about being the object of Daniel St. James's chivalry, but we'd already had one unpleasant encounter there, so I parked myself at a table in the back and decided to get it over with.
Daniel set my bags down and took the chair across from me, drumming his knuckles awkwardly on the table as the silence grew between us. "I don't really know where to begin."
"You're down to four minutes now, so you'd better figure it out fast."
He sighed. "You have every right to be angry. Hell, if I was you, I'd be more than angry." He hesitated. "Why didn't you call the cops?"
"And tell them what, exactly? 'Hey, I'd like to report your kid brother for illicit use of his psychic powers. Nice to meet you, by the way?' That's a one-way ticket to the nuthouse."
"The town figureheads are a bit incestuous, I guess."
"Well, that's not really a surprise given that everyone here is a fucking Whitaker."
"Look, I know this seems bad, but I've known the Whitaker family my whole life. They're a little corrupt, but families that have managed to hold onto power since the Mayflower days usually are," he began. "That said, they're not bad people. They just have some nutty ideas."
"And psychic powers, apparently."
He hesitated. "I saw what Nick did, but I wouldn't call it that. More like hypnosis."
"Semantics."
Daniel frowned. "He said he was trying to get information from you. To find out why you ran, and it backfired somehow. He thinks you 'blocked him,' whatever that means."
"You know him better than I do."
Daniel watched me closely, like he was trying to figure something out. "He said something else. He said you were a witch."
I did my best not to react to that, but the reminder of the third-degree Nick had given me brought all the anger bubbling to the surface and I realized I had torn an empty sugar packet into a few dozen pieces a bit too late. "Guess that's one of those nutty ideas those zany Whitakers are always harboring."
"You don't seem to be freaked out by the idea of him being psychic as
much as you are pissed that he got you to talk."
"Cops get people to talk. What he did? That was a violation of my boundaries, pure and simple."
"No argument there," he said, holding up his hands. "He knows how I feel about what happened, and if you wanted to get in a punch while you told him your thoughts, I wouldn't blame you."
I frowned. "Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Stop being so agreeable. I think I liked it better when you were an insufferable prick."
He laughed. "Everyone needs a day off."
The waitress came over, giving us both a disapproving glance as she gnawed on a wad of gum. "You gonna order something?"
Daniel glanced at the menu in front of him. "I know my five minutes are up, but it'd be a shame if you didn't even taste the best blueberry pancakes in the northeast before you moved. My treat?"
I chewed on my bottom lip, warring with myself for even considering it. The last week had been a blur of self-doubt, confusion and vulnerability, and five minutes in Daniel's company was putting me more at ease than I had been in a while. Maybe if I stuck around, he'd let something slip that would help me understand what had happened with Nick and settle on how to feel about it at the same time.
"Fine. I'll have a coffee, too, please."
"Two blue stacks, two regulars, coming up," the waitress said, taking our menus.
"Thanks, Sheila," said Daniel, propping his elbows on the table as he leaned in. So, he could have manners when he wanted to.
"Nick's aunt said you were a veteran," I ventured, deciding to start there. It would also be a chance to verify whether everything Nick had told me was a lie. "Is that how you became friends?"
"No, but I grew up with his brother. I went into the Army to pay for college, then med school."
Well, that checked out with what Nick had told me. "Med school? I thought you were a vet." I hesitated. "A vet-vet."
He snorted. "I transferred to veterinary school when I finally accepted that my bedside manner made me a better fit for animal patients. A shock, I know."
Couldn't argue with that. "You're a bit of an acquired taste," I mumbled, taking a sip of my coffee. It must have been fresh, because this time, it didn't leave my lips with a second-degree burn. "To quote Nick."
"Yeah, well, I never pretended to get by on my winning personality. Guess that's why I ended up getting close to Nick. He didn't mind my..."
"Belligerence?" I offered.
"I was going to say gruffness, but sure." He stared into his coffee for a moment, and when his eyes met mine again, I knew the guy was either a complete psychopath or he really was sorry. "I'm still trying to piece all this together, but I'm sorry for what happened and I feel bad for the role I played in it. Not that anything happened, I just --"
"You were protecting him," I murmured. "Something tells me you do that a lot."
He blew a puff of air through his nose and took a sip of his coffee. "Old habits die hard."
"What does that mean?"
"There are a lot of complex ties in this town, Holden. The Whitakers are about as complex as it gets." He sighed. "Except maybe for the Mills family."
"As in Dennis Mills?"
"The town rumor mill hasn't forgotten him, I see."
"Was it true what Nick said? About him and that girl?"
Daniel's gaze grew distant and I almost wished I hadn't asked. "I don't know what to think anymore. I know what I thought back then."
"Which is?"
"That he killed her. That's why I broke it off with him."
I blinked. "You dated Dennis Mills?"
"Are you surprised that I dated a guy or that it was him?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Both?"
He chuckled. "You wouldn't be the only one. Not the least of all, my mother."
"She doesn't approve?"
"She never got the chance to find out for sure, though she had her suspicions. My parents were killed in a car accident, which I'm sure you'll hear about soon enough, too. As many secrets as there are in this town, the old rumors have a way of gaining new life."
"I'm sorry for your loss," I murmured. "Mind if I ask how long ago it was?"
"Fourteen years to the day you showed up, actually. I'm afraid I already wasn't in the best of moods when you knocked on my door."
"I wasn't exactly on my best behavior, either."
"Would it be too late to start over? If you do decide to leave Stillwater, I'd rather not be part of the reason."
"Oh, so you've given up on running me out of town?"
He gave me a lopsided grin that made him seem like far less of a threat in some ways, but more of one in others. "I'm not very good at rallying a mob, as it turns out." He extended his hand. "The name's Daniel St. James, Stillwater's resident curmudgeon. And you are?"
I fought to keep a straight face as I returned the handshake. "Holden Adams, new age weirdo and the world's worst con artist, at your service."
"Yeah, I did a bit more digging into your background. You do know you're supposed to get the money before you skip town, right?"
I snapped my fingers. "I knew I was forgetting something."
The glimmer of amusement in his eye turned to curiosity. "You really believe all this witch stuff, don't you?"
"Begrudgingly, but yeah."
"Nick certainly believes it."
I had all but forgotten about the very reason we were there and my mood soured immediately. "Nick needs to learn not to ask questions he can't handle the answers to."
"He said you were running from something. Is that true?"
"You could stand to learn the same lesson, Daniel," I said quietly, settling my hands around the coffee mug to feel its warmth. It was a poor substitute for Nick's touch, but at least I knew it wouldn't betray my trust. "I might not be a con artist, but you were right from the start. Me staying in Stillwater is only going to bring problems."
"Why do you say that?"
"I thought this was a normal town. I thought I could blend in, but it's obvious that's not true."
"Why would you need to blend in at all?"
I hesitated. I had been running for so long, giving false aliases and made-up backstories that the temptation to just tell someone the truth was overwhelming. Like Nick, there was something about Daniel that made me want to trust him, and trust wasn't something that had ever come easily to me. With him, what you saw was what you got, good or bad, and there was something remarkably comforting about that.
"Come on, you've been here barely two weeks and you already know most of my dirty secrets. It won't get back to Nick, if that's what you're worried about."
"I already told him part of it. I'm running from my father. Holden Adams isn't my real name, and no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. It's safer that way."
"Safer for you?"
"For everyone. My father isn't a very nice guy, to put it mildly."
"I'm sorry. The way he said it made me believe he really was. "God, my parents and I didn't always get along, but I can't imagine actually being afraid of them."
"It's more like I'm afraid of what he'll use me to do," I admitted, twirling the teaspoon in my empty mug. Maybe it was the fact that I could tell the man in front of me didn't believe in any of it, but it felt good to get the words out. Like my father had always said, confession is good for the soul.
Daniel frowned. "The witch thing again? He believed it, too?"
"He did, but it wasn't just that. You ever hear of faith healers, Daniel?"
"Sure. The guys in expensive suits who convince people to give away their money in exchange for supernatural healing instead of getting actual medical intervention."
"That would be my father. And me, for a time."
"I don't believe that."
"What happened to me being a charlatan?"
"First impressions aren't everything. Anyway, snake oil is one thing, but I don't think you have it in you to run a con like that."
"That's just it. Is it
really a con if it works?"
He listened expectantly, so I continued, "Call me crazy if you want, and maybe I am, but I know what I saw. Broken bones knit together in a few seconds, tumors the size of grapefruits shrunken right before my very eyes. Ever since I can remember, strange things happened around me and for better or worse, my father found a way to turn those strange things into miracles."
His expression was one of concern by then, but he didn't laugh or mock me the way I'd expected him to. "I've seen videos, Holden. There are tricks these people use, things that would convince anyone, let alone a child."
"Maybe you're right," I said with a dismissive laugh. "Who knows? Maybe my father was as good of a hypnotist as Nick is and we all just saw what he wanted us to see. All I know is that he and everyone in his church believed I was something special. It felt good for a while," I admitted. "My brother Ezekiel was the smart one, the good one. He had our dad's charisma, but I was the one who was chosen."
"Chosen?"
"We had prophets in our church," I said in a wry tone. "Mostly it was just older women who wanted an excuse to transmit some message from the Lord to people they didn't like, but when I was born, one of them told my parents I had a very special role to play in God's plan. As long as I stayed on the straight and narrow, He would use me to bless my father's ministry and do great works."
"And if you strayed?"
"Every good thing has its counterfeit. Its photonegative. That's what they taught us."
"Let me guess. The antichrist?"
"The Whore of Babylon," I said in a grave tone before a smile crept across my face.
"Christ," he muttered into his coffee. "That's pretty bad."
"Mhm. Church ladies are nothing if not imaginative."
"I'm a bit fuzzy on the Sunday school stuff, but isn't that supposed to be a woman?"
"Yeah," I mumbled. "That's probably why my parents dismissed it until I turned out to be the one thing worse than a sexually empowered woman to their way of thinking."
He groaned. "Now that I get."
"Anyway, when I was up there on that stage with my father, I didn't care if it was really God who was working through me. All that mattered was that I had my father's approval."
