by Jen Stevens
Quarters don’t typically interact with the rest of the coven, let alone the town. They’d know I was on to her before I ever had a chance to eliminate her as a threat.
“We need access to the Quarter Book of Shadows,” Enzo complained, his eyes narrowing in on Rhyse.
Rhyse's father was the last known Quarter in possession of the sacred text, and Rhyse was the only one with access to his chambers. As the current High Priest, his father was impossibly hard to get close to.
“I told you, I've looked. It's not there.”
“How do we know we can trust you? Forbes men have been known to betray the Quarters in the past,” Enzo growled, his ashy blond hair falling over moss eyes as he lunged toward Rhyse.
“This is bullshit. We should've been given the book when they handed over power,” Lux intervened, placing a calming hand on Enzo's chest to back him away. “We shouldn't be turning on each other over this. Our fathers are the ones who can't be trusted.”
“None of it matters if we don't have access to the book,” I added, offering a reassuring nod toward Rhyse. We all knew how much he despised his father, and it was a low blow for Enzo to accuse him of doing anything the same way he did.
“We can't allow them to step in on Mabon. It'll be the beginning of the end for us. They're already gunning to take back their Quarter roles and send us into the flames. I wouldn't doubt if it were them keeping our Counters from us to snuff us out completely.” Enzo shook his head in frustration, pacing behind Lux to release some of his built-up tension.
As the Quarter that drew power from the earth, he was the most hard-headed and stuck in his ways. It had always been difficult for the Eastons to release their grudge on the Forbes after Rhyse's grandfather betrayed the Quarters in an attempt to retain his power. They were big on keeping promises and maintaining honor, and once that trust was broken, it was next to impossible to earn back.
But Rhyse didn't deserve to be punished for his family's mistakes. Not when he strived so hard to be nothing like them. His grandfather betrayed him as well in his attempt to hold on to power.
Our fathers weren't any better.
“We can find a way around it until we get our hands on the book,” Lux assured.
We walked up the dirt path leading to Lux's sprawling mansion, the summer sun beating down on our necks.
Beacon Grove's Quarter families were treated like royalty. Our properties were carefully placed at each corresponding directional corner of the town, so we could protect and watch from the comfort of our own home. It was a horrendous waste if you asked me.
Though, no one ever did.
After generations of Quarters taking advantage of the coven’s monetary resources, we didn't even have to work normal jobs anymore. We'd become lazy and entitled over time with a desperate need to get back to why we started this town and coven in the first place.
Lux's property was on the east end and farthest from mine, which sat exactly six miles away in the west, beside the ocean. Rhyse’s sat three miles to the south and Enzo’s was three miles to the north, in the mountains. The town was stationed directly in the middle.
At any given point, our families have always held the title of High Priests and Priestesses of the coven. It was usually cycled through the four families every three years when elections were held. They were more of a formality than anything else. Rewarding us with the title was part of their way of repaying us for our services and ensuring the rest of the coven could practice magic without worrying about negative or harmful energies interfering.
Rhyse's parents were our current High Priest and Priestess, which only fed our distrust toward them. No one ever ran against us. At least, not yet.
Our fathers have become reckless, taking advantage of their status and acting as if they're invincible because of it. When the four of us aged into our roles as Quarters, they tried to fight it, gripping onto the last shreds of power they had as if their lives depended on it. They managed to piss a lot of the coven off and isolated us from the rest of the town.
With no need to work or interact with our community, Quarters have become detached outcasts, completely out of touch with the needs of the people we're supposed to be helping. Lux was the only one out of the four of us willing to step into the High Priest role, and that wouldn’t happen until all of our fathers died off.
He led us through his home and into his library to share whatever new information he found about us in the past week. Since our gifts began weakening, he has dedicated all his time to pouring over random texts and town records to find some shred of a clue about what was happening. So far, none of it has been of any use but we had no other option at this point.
Rhyse and Enzo sat on opposite ends of the room, and we listened to Lux drone on in tense silence. My mind kept wandering back to Mystery Girl, slowly forming a plan to stop whatever threat she posed.
Chapter 7
Remy
It had been a week since my first encounter with the mystery girl and I hadn't been able to get her out of my head since. I had to get near her to find out how big of a threat she was to me and my brothers. It'd been a week since I first saw her, and my curiosity had only festered into an unhealthy obsession in that time. I knew she got her coffee from The Grind every day because I overheard our maid, Marta pestering her daughter about befriending the newcomer before she was ostracized with the rest of the Grangers she kept getting seen around town with.
That only made me more suspicious of her. The Grangers were the biggest suspects for hiding Counters. It would be no surprise to me if they were protecting her once again.
I hated being in town when it was busy. It was nothing but a reminder of how these people—my coven—treated me like royalty when my power barely matched their own. They didn't know that, though, and it only made me feel even more deceptive. I was a fraud walking among them, taking praise and garnering respect for things I couldn't even do. But I swallowed my distaste and found myself standing in The Grind after spending an embarrassing amount of time waiting for her to show up.
“It could be argued that you’re stalking me at this point,” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to fully look back at me.
Her tone suggested she was irritated, but the paranoid way her eyes kept shifting in my direction gave her away. She was afraid that her words might be spot on, and I truly was stalking her.
Which wasn't exactly wrong.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You aren’t that interesting,” I lied with a sarcastic laugh that burned as it left my throat.
I hadn't laughed playfully like that in years. At least since I took over as Quarter at twenty-one. The sound was almost too foreign.
I glanced around us. No one in our immediate vicinity seemed to notice the conversation that was happening, which made me grateful she refused to look at me.
“I’m here for the coffee.”
“Okay,” she sarcastically sing-songed before stepping up to the counter to place her order.
Once I’d done the same, I walked over to the pick-up counter and stood a safe distance away from her. Again, I did a sweep to see if anyone was watching us before I began talking again.
“Are you busy right now?”
It was nearly impossible to speak through the pain of being so near to her. She appeared to be unaffected by this strange sensation. If she wasn’t my Counter, she was some other kind of threat placed in my way—there was no doubt about it. I just needed to get her alone.
“No thanks. I've seen enough murder documentaries to know better than to spend time alone with my stalker.”
The barista had heard the last part and sent a confusing glance my way as she handed out the drink. No one spoke to Quarters that way—even visitors. Mystery girl took the cup and walked right out the door. Once mine was ready, I followed her, carefully keeping my distance so we didn't draw any more attention.
“You're well aware that I'm not stalking you. It's practically my duty to show a newcomer aroun
d. Especially a legacy of the coven,” I bluffed.
I was one of the last people who would ever be found responsible for showing a tourist around, but she wouldn't know that. If she were as ignorant to her past as I've heard, she shouldn't know anything about how Watchtower is run.
She abruptly stopped walking and finally faced me as I nearly stumbled into her. From this close, I could see that her owlish eyes were the oddest shade I'd ever seen. Endless dark purple seas with black specks floating inside them—I say floating because it's almost as if the longer I stared, the more they seemed to be slowly circling around her irises.
“I don't need to be shown around by the welcoming committee. In fact, I'd like it if everyone just ignored that my family was born here and treated me like a regular old tourist instead. You don't seem to bother them at all.”
“You're incredibly stubborn.”
I didn't mean to say it out loud. I'd grown too used to keeping my distance from people, and I was far removed from proper etiquette. But I didn't regret saying it as her cheeks reddened, and her eyes flashed with anger.
“And you don't seem to take a hint.”
Once again, she gave me her back and walked in the opposite direction I'd come from. I couldn't let her get away, though. I'd come here to find out more about her, and I couldn't give up. Not when mine and my brother's lives were at risk.
“You want to know more about your family, right? About Watchtower?”
I was grasping at straws, blindly casting my reel and hoping to catch her attention in any way. I didn't even know who her family was. As far as I was aware, no one with the name Graves had lived here for years. The original bloodline was severed long before I came into the picture. But I knew enough about Beacon Grove's history to fake it.
Her feet stopped on the pavement. Finally.
“You have questions, I have answers.”
“Fine. But you have to agree to answer any question I have.”
Chapter 8
Storie
I was out of my mind.
Taking a complete stranger, who had clearly followed me into that coffee shop as a ruse, up on an offer to show me around town? Just to learn more about my background?
It was insane.
But I was growing impatient waiting for the people of Beacon Grove to give me answers. It seemed as if everyone knew who I was and where I came from, yet no one wanted to share what any of that meant. I never expected the information to come to me easily, but I hadn't expected it to be nearly impossible to find.
My original plan was for this trip to last a few weeks—maybe a month at most. That's what I budgeted for from my newly padded savings thanks to Aunt Asher's "accidental" death. I'd already been here a whole week and hadn't gotten anywhere. It was infuriating. So, I took advantage of the ruse and accepted the stalker-boy's offer.
I learned his name was Remy.
He spoke about Beacon Grove and Watchtower with confidence and pride and kept a respectful distance between us as we strolled around the town's center. Eventually, my anxiety and suspicions about him faded away, and I focused instead on pulling whatever details I could get out of him. He shared small, random facts that didn't quite interest me, but the way he spoke was so captivating, I didn't have the heart to stop him.
On the plus side, I managed to get the wonky library hours out of him. Even if he offered nothing else, I'd call that a win. Blaire had looked at me like she had no idea there even was a library in Beacon Grove when I asked her, so she was useless in that regard.
Eventually, we quit circling the same buildings and headed on a dirt path that fed off the side of the art gallery. I'd finally gotten the nerve to ask him about the Watchtower coven and after a bit of probing, he gave in to answering.
“Not everyone in Beacon Grove is a part of Watchtower,” he explained patiently. “The initiation process is brutal, even for legacies. Not many are willing to endure it.”
“Then how is the coven still in existence?”
“What do you mean?”
“What's the point of making the process of joining so impossible if it deters people from wanting to be a part of it.”
He pondered that for a moment, his gaze directed ahead at the shaded path we were on. So much time passed, I thought he was going to ignore the question altogether. Then, his eyes swung over to mine and the passion that burned in them almost made me stumble back a bit.
“Watchtower is an ancient coven. The original thirteen members came to these woods for protection from those who couldn't understand our ways. They built Beacon Grove from sticks and mud and turned it into the beautiful place that it is today. We want to honor them by making sure every member is here because they want to be, not simply because their parents are members or because it sounds interesting.”
He sent me a pointed glare. He was accusing me of the former.
“I have no interest in joining,” I defended, my tone a little harsher than I'd intended. “I told you, I just want to get to know where I came from.”
“Being a Graves, those are one in the same. Your family was one of the originals. You can easily trace them back to the town's conception.”
Then why did they all leave when I came along? Like everything else, it didn't make sense.
It was clear that Remy knew a lot about the town, and he took pride in his coven. Maybe Tabitha wasn't the only person I had to turn to.
“So, you went through the grueling initiation?” I asked conversationally. He obviously had, since he was an active member. I wanted more details on what the process was like.
A shadow cast over his features. I watched them darken within an instant and almost convinced myself I'd imagined it—that they were that dark all along, I was just finally noticing it. Except, the haunted look on his face didn't falter, especially when he spoke.
“I didn't have to.”
“Why?”
“Those are the rules.”
“I thought the rules were to go through initiation,” I teased, but he didn't seem to catch my humor.
“Yeah, well I'm a Quarter. We don't get a choice.”
If he noticed my shocked expression, he didn't make it obvious. We had stopped in the middle of the path a few moments ago. The trees swayed and leaves danced around us, but I was completely still.
I knew something was off about him.
Different.
He'd captivated me the moment our eyes met across the street at Tabitha's hotel on my first day, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him ever since. He wasn't like anyone else who lived here. A darkness followed him—it haunted his entire being.
I'd been warned about the Quarters from Tabitha and Blaire. They were completely off-limits to the townspeople. No one ever spoke to them, and they liked it that way. But they hadn't ever told me who the Quarters were. Never pointed them out on the street so that I knew which faces to avoid. I'd assumed they stayed away from town if they didn't want to be bothered.
Yet, Remy had practically thrown himself at me. He had insisted on taking me on this silly tour and showing me around.
Why?
Was he confirming what I suspected from the beginning? That I was a Counter, and he only wanted me dead? Even if I weren't his Counter, surely he'd take the opportunity to help one of his own and eliminate their threat. Because that's all the Quarters saw their Counters as: a threat.
A cool chill ran down my spine. I hadn't realized how far we walked into the woods before. I couldn't see anything but thick trees and dense foliage all around. We were surrounded by nothing but nature without any other living being around to help. I could hear ocean waves somewhere in the distance and tried to picture the map I'd used to get here. I couldn't remember seeing water anywhere near Beacon Grove—just woods and mountains.
“Where are we?” I failed at my attempt to keep the fear out of my voice. It shook just like the rest of my body.
If he noticed, he didn't make it obvious. “The west end of town. Techn
ically, we're on my family's property.”
My mind spiraled.
Why would he want to take me to his family's secluded woods if he didn't want to hurt me?
“I thought you were supposed to show me around Beacon Grove,” I accused weakly.
He shrugged. “I guess I got carried away with all the Watchtower talk. I wasn't really thinking about where we were going.”
A stick snapped a few feet away from us and both our heads whipped around to see what it was. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but I was officially spooked. When I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, he was wearing the same dark scowl as before, his eyes still surveying the forest. I didn't want to be alone with him for another second longer.
“I think we should go back.”
When he turned toward me, his brows pinned farther together in suspicion. I instinctively took a small step away from him and the sound of my feet shuffling in the dirt was practically deafening.
His shoulders tensed.
“I just really want to go back,” I insisted breathlessly, turning back in what I thought was the direction we came from.
Or was it? I was completely turned around. Why did the waves sound closer now?
“Okay, okay,” he soothed. His hands lifted in front of his chest in a calming manner, as if he were approaching a wild animal and couldn't predict its next movement. “It's this way.”
A long finger stretched in the opposite direction I would have guessed.
I'd been wrong. Hopelessness weighed deep in my stomach. What was I thinking, coming out into the woods with a complete stranger? I had better instincts than that, didn't I? But for some reason, all logic flew out the window when I was near him. I couldn't even run to safety if I had to—my sense of direction was nonexistent.
