by Jen Stevens
I kept a large gap between us as we trekked back to town in complete silence. Remy appeared to be battling his own conflicting thoughts about the last twenty minutes. His pushy and upbeat mood had shifted into the morose, thoughtful disposition that more closely matched the way Quarters had been described. He also didn't seem to care about the change in my mood and he wasn't surprised when I bid him a rushed goodbye and practically ran to the hotel.
Blaire was occupied with someone in the office, so I took the opportunity to rush past her window and shut myself into my room to recover from the odd feelings Remy had just stirred up.
I knew I should have stayed away.
Chapter 9
Storie
Each of my mornings were spent at the library since learning of their odd hours. The librarian's name was Esther. She was a small, mousy woman who wore her silver hair tied back into a tight bun and the same brown cardigan each day.
Outside of me asking her to point me in the general direction of what I needed on my first day there, we never spoke. After about a week of showing up as soon as she unlocked the large front doors, she started waiting and holding them open for me. She never bothered with a greeting, and I found comfort in her cold nature. I hadn't felt it since leaving the city.
Every morning, I'd march up the stairs to the third floor where all the town records were held and she'd shuffle behind the desk that sat in the center of the first floor, never speaking a word.
I made a point to get up and out of bed before the sun and didn’t return to my hotel room until Blaire was just getting done with her morning shifts at the front desk. We'd walk to the secret locals-only diner and have lunch before she went back to work, and I went back to my hotel room to mull over whatever I found. The days easily blended together, and each one was more infuriating than the last, leading me down nothing but dead ends.
The Graves played a huge part in Beacon Grove’s history, but their personal history wasn’t documented very reliably. Every news article and book raved about James Graves' acts of kindness and charity as the town was being built. They all felt off to me, though.
He felt off to me.
A few early issues of The Beacon were missing from the stack and when I asked Esther about them, she'd just shrugged and claimed they had every single issue documented and preserved.
I followed my family's journey through time, taking note of each menial piece of news they were involved in to reference later. There was a trend of only positive stories published where the Graves name was concerned, which was odd considering it seemed as if the editors of The Beacon were always after exposing a juicy story. No other family had been given the same respect, including the Quarter families, which were mentioned regularly.
It wasn't until I got to the more recent issues that things took a turn for the worst. Two years before my father was born, my grandfather was involved in an affair with Betty Castle, one of the women who worked at the tavern downtown. Betty fell pregnant and he refused to acknowledge the baby as his own, claiming her to be a loose woman whom he'd never had contact with outside serving his drinks. He accused her of making false claims to get her hands on his family's estate. In response, she agreed to do a tell-all with The Beacon on the entire Graves family.
I could tell by the tone of the article that the reporter, Marvin Winkle, was excited for the story and wanted to take full advantage of the opportunity to expose my family's secrets. There was a particularly curious line where he wrote: "Despite the Graves gag order that The Beacon has been under since its inception over one hundred years ago, we've been offered a unique opportunity to dive into the dark, sordid history of the founding family and expose these twisted minds for the bullies what they are."
The front page of the following issue read: BETTY LIED in large, black lettering. About a month later, buried deep into the third page of the paper, was a story written by a different reporter glumly stating that Marvin Winkle had been found dead in his home after an apparent suicide. A separate search on Betty revealed that three months later, she was involved in a fatal car crash on the road leading outside of town. There were no surviving witnesses.
The Graves facade continued after that. Not a single negative thing was published in The Beacon or anywhere else. When my father was fifteen and Aunt Ash was thirteen, my grandfather suffered a heart attack and passed away. He left behind his wife and two children, all of whom denied any interviews with the paper.
Upon review of the town’s death records, I found that my grandfather had three brothers who passed away within five years of his death. Only one of them had been married and none of them left behind any kids. My dad and Aunt Ash were the last known descendants of the Graves line. Their dates of death were scribbled in the town’s history with no true explanation documented.
There was a trend of indisputable accidental deaths in the Graves bloodline. Like a genetic disease that was passed down, members were plucked off one by one until there was no one left but me. By the time I ran out of public records to search, exhausting every option the library had to offer, I was able to conclude one thing: someone had been targeting the Graves family line.
The only question was, who?
We're just days away from Beacon Grove's annual Mabon festival, and locals can't wait to see what this year has in store for them.
For those who have been living under a rock, Mabon is the hallmark Autumnal Equinox harvest festival where Beacon Grove residents take the time to reflect on the past year and give thanks for the abundance of blessings they've been granted by Mother Earth.
Local shops set up tents in the town's center, a carnival is held in the community center parking lot, and guests come from all over the country to kick off the eight-day celebration.
This year is rumored to be the biggest one yet as the mayor has allegedly allotted nearly twice the usual budget toward outside marketing. This means more tourists, more business, and more fun.
There's a little bit of everything for the whole family to enjoy.
Mayor Douglas says his favorite part of the festival is the opening and closing ceremonies, where the town gathers together as one to revel in their hard work.
“Everyone deserves some sunshine and fun. This year will be our best one yet.”
Check out the Mabon Festival guide below for more information about the lineup of events.
Chapter 10
Storie
In the few weeks since I drove into Beacon Grove, the entire town had been transformed into an Autumn-themed wonderland. Tree vines with leaves of yellow, red, and orange were strung along the white gazebo and dried, pale corn stalks were tied to every pillar. The blackened storefronts provided a contrasting background to the varying sizes and colors of pumpkins and haystacks that sat against them.
I'd seen Fall depicted in movies this way—with Mother Nature's seasonal color palette tastefully splashed across every surface. Though, I'd never seen it replicated in real life. Where I came from, Fall always fell short with its muddy grounds, cold transitional weather, and overly spiced palette.
According to the banners hung all around town, the festival responsible for the town's face-lift started tomorrow.
“Mabon is a big deal around here,” Blaire explained as we weaved our way around tents that were littered across the grass to get to The Grind.
“The town holds a big festival every year to kick off the week. Mom makes me man the pharmacy's booth.”
“Your mom runs the pharmacy?”
I still haven't met her mom. Her absence seemed to be a normal thing in Blaire's life. I spent most nights this week eating dinner with her and Tabitha—too spooked by the moaning and screaming I often heard from my hotel room to stand being alone for too long. It never bothered them that her chair was always empty.
“Oh, yeah. Well, she's the town's herbalist. Mr. Bradbury is the pharmacist. They run the shop together.” She opened the door and gestured for me to go first. “Ooh, they've finally got the
pumpkin spiced cappuccino back!”
As always, anyone within earshot glared at Blaire and her outburst. I pulled her attention back to me while we waited in line before she caught their eyes. For some reason, I was growing protective over her.
“What even is Mabon?”
“How are you a Graves and you know nothing about your own history?” she asked, dumbfounded.
I shrugged my response.
She grabbed a newspaper off the stand that sat against the wall beside us, pointing to the headlining story.
“It's a celebration of the Autumn equinox and the abundance of harvest Mother Earth Goddess has given us this year. I guess it's like Thanksgiving, but better.”
The barista called us to the counter to place our orders, and then we moved to the other side to join a small crowd of people also waiting for their drinks.
“Beacon Grove always has a huge festival with carnival rides and tents set up for each business. We get a ton of visitors from out of town, too. It's one of our busiest times of year.” She nudged her elbow into my side. “Lucky you showed up when you did, otherwise we might not have had a room for you.”
“I'm not sure I'd call that lucky,” a female voice snarked from behind. We both turned to see who it belonged to, and Blaire rolled her eyes, her body visibly tensing.
The girl sneered at my friend before offering her hand to me. “Julia Rist.”
I shook it hesitantly, irritated with the smug look she wore from insulting Blaire. She was a few inches shorter than me, though the confidence that shined out of her made her seem much taller. Her straight golden locks hung lifelessly against her pale face as dark brown eyes considered me. She was painfully average looking, and I was confused about what made her special enough to regard anyone the way she was Blaire.
“Storie Graves.”
“Oh, I know who you are. The whole town's talking about you. We should have lunch sometime.”
She gave Blaire a once-over and her tone suggested she'd be doing me a favor. A saccharine smile spread across her face then, and I immediately disliked her even more.
“You can get a real feel for Watchtower from someone who's actually on the inside.”
Our names were called for our drinks, so we turned away from Julia without another word. Blaire hadn't taken a breath until we exited the shop.
“Goddess, I hate her,” she hissed.
Her hands aggressively worked to roll up the thick newspaper, the ink turning her fingers black. We rounded a corner to take the back streets to the hotel.
“Who is she?”
“Her family works for the Wildes family.”
When I didn't have a reaction, she released an exasperated breath.
“The Wildes are the Quarters of the west. Their abilities are powered by the sea, and they're rumored to have a pull over the underworld. Julia's family has been their housekeepers for centuries.”
That sparked some recognition for me. I thought back to my scary walk with Remy and recalled that he mentioned his family's property was on the west side of town.
So, his last name was Wildes. And Julia worked for him.
“Housekeepers? Her mom is a maid, and she thinks that makes her something special?”
Blaire nodded. “It does. The Wildes especially treat their staff very well. I'm surprised she even bothered talking to you. No offense.”
“What did she mean about Watchtower? I thought it was your coven, too.”
Blaire's shoulders tensed back up. “That's just her group. They've always acted like Grangers aren't a part of Watchtower after everything that went down. It's their parents’ fault for feeding into the lies.”
We took another turn and the hotel appeared within view. I had no idea the streets wove together like this. I tried to keep track of each turn, hoping to use this new shortcut as a way to avoid the town altogether on my daily coffee runs but I kept getting lost. It was like the streets had shifted themselves to get us here.
Blaire was still seething as she walked through the hotel's office door, past Tabitha at the desk with a line of customers, and back into her room. I kept my mouth shut and hung back, allowing her the time she needed to work through this uncharacteristic rage. I'd yet to see her in such a foul mood. It was almost scary to watch.
Tabitha's hostile, questioning eyes swung to me through the open office window. I quickly looked away and ducked my head, returning back to my room before she had a chance to stop me.
---
Blaire had convinced me to help her with the pharmacy's booth. Most people walked past us without a second glance, ignoring the free samples of elderberry syrup we offered and the small emergency stand with various first-aid materials in case anyone got hurt.
I spent the first hour of the festival meandering around aimlessly by myself, stopping at a few booths that caught my attention. The clothing boutique had a mini shop set up under their tent and I couldn't help myself from looking around at the unique, colorful styles. I chatted with the woman who was running it for a bit.
Based on the rainbow tunic and headband she was wearing, I assumed she was the owner. As with everyone in Beacon Grove, she'd known who I was the moment I entered her tent and excitedly introduced herself as Hazel.
“Your mother was one of my closest friends,” she explained as she rang me up for the purse I couldn't seem to walk away from.
She grabbed a few handfuls of things from the displays around her and shoved them into the bag with a wink.
“I'd love to hear more about her.”
“Of course! We'll grab a coffee sometime. Oh, I have so many crazy stories I could tell you, though I probably shouldn't.”
When I was finally able to get away, the small purse I'd picked had been completely filled with different colored crystals I had no idea how to use and accessories I'd never usually wear. We parted with the promise of getting together in the next week and I couldn't help but feel a little closer to my mother after hearing such kind words about her.
The next booth that caught my attention was set back from the others at the end of the row. Tapestries with different zodiac signs and spiritual symbols blocked all four sides off, with one small opening in the front. An ancient-looking woman stood in the gap, her eyes directed toward the sky, far away in thought. As I passed by, she grabbed onto my shoulder and pulled me back to her.
“It's you,” she breathed next to my ear. Her fingers tightened their grip on me, holding me firmly in place as I struggled to get her off me.
She was at least six inches shorter than I was and much older, but her grip was surprisingly strong. From this close, I could see her eyes were covered in a cloudy white film. While they peered directly into mine, I assumed she couldn't actually see anything through it. She must have had me mixed up with someone else.
“Storie Graves, you've been given an enormous task from the fates. We're all relying on you. You must not avoid it any longer,” her raspy voice whispered.
Someone ripped us apart from behind and shoved me into the main walkway, nearly sending me tumbling into a group of people passing by. I caught my balance and turned to find Tabitha face-to-face with the woman, their noses practically touching. They appeared to be in a heated argument, though both were speaking extremely low. Tabitha was the first to step away and when she did, her eyes found me. She looked pissed.
I was irritated that she'd practically thrown me to the ground, but that couldn't compete with the fear that ignited in my chest as her thick legs quickly carried her over to where I stood and she grabbed me by the wrist, leading me in the opposite direction.
“What did she say to you?” her stern voice demanded.
“N-nothing that made any sense. You're hurting me,” I whined, and then tugged my arm out of her grip. I rubbed the sore spot, noting the red fingerprints that were sure to leave a mark later.
“She's just an old woman spouting out nonsense. She's got nothing better to do with her time.”
I nodded my res
ponse—biting back my own retort about her being an old woman with nothing better to do—and she jutted her chin out defiantly, her eyes falling to the aching spot on my wrist. When she was satisfied with whatever she saw, she turned her back to me and her plump body limped away.
“That woman is something else.” Julia approached me from behind. Her mouth tsked dramatically, and then she smiled.
“Yeah.”
“A few of us are going to grab some dinner if you want to join.”
Her thumb hooked behind her at a group of people who circled around one another in the open field. They were all looking our way, each one more fashionably dressed than the last. My black jeans and t-shirt felt severely casual compared to their getups, and the same insecurities I'd always fought in high school came creeping up in my mind.
“No, thank you. Maybe another time.”
I didn't think I could handle being blindsided any more tonight, and I was sure Julia and her friends had something else planned besides dinner. I could see the mischievous gleam in their eyes. It was the same one I wore when Aunt Ash became a helicopter parent and all I wanted to do was get away from her.
Julia didn't bother hiding her disappointment but didn't try to push. “Okay, I'm going to hold you to that,” she promised, then left to join her group.
I made my way back to the pharmacy tent and was relieved to find Blaire sitting alone. It didn't take much convincing on her end to get me to stay.
Blaire's mother finally came to check on us around eight. It was hard to believe that the stunning woman before me was related to Blaire or Tabitha, and her bubbly personality only added to her allure. She wore a long maxi dress with a psychedelic pattern that she must have bought from Hazel's boutique.
“I'm Callista,” she introduced with a warm smile. “And you must be Storie. Mom and Blaire have told me a lot about you.”
Her auburn hair fell in waves along her back without a single stand out of place. She and Blaire stood at the same height, though her body was long and slender where Blaire's was thicker in some places. Her skin was a shade darker, more closely matching the beautiful tone of her mothers. The only resemblance they truly shared was that odd shade of green eye color that her mother and daughter also possessed.
