by Jen Stevens
“What did you just do to me?”
My fingers flexed at my sides, itching for more contact. To reach out and touch her cheek. To feel that sweet agony again and know for a fact that someone else was feeling it, too.
“You're more dangerous than you know.”
“And you're more trouble than you're worth,” she quickly countered, her chest puffed out defensively.
She had no idea how much trouble I could be for her.
We held each other’s eyes for a few lingering moments. I felt her stare deep inside my marrow, as if she were seeing right through to my core. I’d never felt so exposed, completely at the mercy of someone else.
She could destroy me.
I don’t doubt that she will. But something told me that being destroyed by her would be the most exhilarating thing to ever happen to a person like me.
A pawn. A tool for others to use and abuse and place blame onto when nothing seems to go right.
She’d been holding her breath. I watched as her lungs filled and her chest rose, my eyes falling to the skin that her low-cut shirt left exposed. When she released the breath, it was slow and shaky. Somewhere along the way, she’d taken a step toward me, closing the short distance between us so we were now standing nose-to-nose.
Not a single part of our bodies was touching, but I felt the vibrations of her skin bouncing off mine as if we were. She was buzzing, and I was completely wasted on her.
I drowned in her pools of violet. They pulled me in and refused to release me from their depths. She was a siren, and I was a mere mortal trying to resist her deadly call. But I’d failed.
My mind went completely blank, as if she somehow managed to turn off all thought processes and render me defenseless. I leaned into the vastness of the space between us, and my lips were met with fireworks.
The pain from before had returned, but it was no longer an unbearable ache that left me with conflicting urges. No, the longer we kissed, the deeper she leaned into me, and the more places our bare skin met, the duller the ache became, turning instead into something completely different.
Something addictive.
Like a fiend with their vice, I couldn’t stop. The moment I gave into the urge to use, I became her slave. She owned me now, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Her mouth opened the slightest bit, granting me permission to explore with my tongue. And gods, she tasted so sweet.
But then, without any warning, she pulled away and ran, never once looking back at the wreckage she’d left behind.
Chapter 16
Storie
My body took me to him faster than my mind was able to comprehend what was truly happening. I awoke from my deep meditation tangled in floral sheets and covered in sweat and bruises. Those were my first indication that any of it was real. Then, before I could grab shoes or my purse, I was in my car driving in the general direction I knew his property was in—the same way we walked in the woods together. I recalled an old map of Beacon Grove I'd found in the library and hoped it was still accurate enough to get me there.
It wasn't until halfway through the drive that I realized what a dangerous thing I was doing, but I couldn't back out. Something about him called to me and the sound was impossible to ignore. By the time I reached the familiar beach from my visions, I lost all momentum.
His home was larger than I pictured it to be, surrounded by the same unique black sand and stone I'd just seen from the balcony.
My courage grew wings and flew away as soon as I stopped my car and shifted into park. Fear took its place, as if finally, my brain had kicked into gear and realized how dangerous it was for me to be there. In the mouth of my predator's den.
I walked to the beach instead of going to the front door like I originally planned, my eyes avoiding the beautiful sprawling mansion that overlooked it in fear of finding those coal black eyes gazing out at me. The ocean waves lazily nipped at my feet, somehow feeding the frenzy that was my mind.
I wanted to scream every frustration I had built up inside of me at it. To see the water split and shift with the sound waves as they vibrated off me, releasing every negative feeling into her depths.
A monster had grown inside of me, green with envy and red with fury. He fed off me for so long—my fears, my weaknesses, my complacency—that he managed to become a being all on his own.
I'd grown tired of other people making decisions for me. Of being at the mercy of everyone else for information about myself and where I came from.
There was a mystery surrounding my identity and why I was in Beacon Grove. I could feel the weight of curiosity in every stare as I passed by the town's locals.
Could they tell that I was just as clueless as they were? Was it obvious that while I'd spent a lifetime as a girl named Storie Graves, I had no real idea who that person was?
A piece of me was always missing, even as a child. A hole of ignorance about my purpose in this world that no one wanted to fill in.
So, he filled it.
This fiery, jealous, raging monster.
At first, I was afraid to acknowledge him. I thought if I ignored him, he'd shrink away to nothing and disappear into the darkness inside my mind with the rest of the parts of me I was taught shouldn't see the light of day.
It wasn't until I befriended my monster that I gained clarity.
I saw my oppression for exactly what it was, and I would become a threat to everyone who wanted to keep me under their thumbs.
They had no idea how dangerous I'd become when I had nothing left to lose. If anything, what happened between me and Remy on the beach solidified that. Because we were very clearly connected in a way that no one wanted to admit—myself included. I was realizing that maybe that connection was more significant than I could have ever imagined.
He kissed me and I was drowned in the sensation of it—painful at first, then blissfully perfect. I felt like I'd been injected with the sun's bright and beautiful rays, full of heat and energy and power.
It was all I could do not to hand myself over to him right there on the beach. To succumb to whatever pain or pleasure he intended to offer me. I had a feeling he'd have me begging for mercy either way.
But something had me step back and put distance between us. A nagging feeling in my gut screamed that it was too soon. I didn't have the full picture yet, and without it, Remy was nothing but a threat to me.
Once again, my feet took me back to my car without a single word and I was driving in the opposite direction down the same winding dirt road that took me to him.
No one could know about this. On the drive back to the hotel, I promised myself that I would take what happened between us and every emotion it conjured up to my grave.
---
Hazel stopped me the next day to have lunch. I’d nearly skipped going back into town altogether, opting instead to hole up in my room and process what has happened over these past few weeks. It felt like the world spun a little differently on its axis since the first time I drove down these sleepy streets, and I needed time to plan my next move.
I was feeling paranoid from my exhausting interaction with Remy and the tension that was radiating off Blaire and Tabitha from losing so many guests over Mabon being canceled. The chance of running into any of them made my stomach turn. But once I poured myself a thick cup of muddied coffee from the stash Tabitha supplied in all the guest rooms, I couldn't resist. I needed sustenance and caffeine.
When Hazel stopped and offered lunch, the need to know more about my mother outweighed any other fears and frustrations I had about everything else.
“It's really too bad that this was your first Mabon here. It's usually a great time. You'll see next year, though.”
We sat down at one of the tall tables beside the front window of The Grind. It was unusually empty for the time of day, but I was grateful for the privacy their lack of business afforded us.
The entire town seemed to be stuck in a glum mood since the Mabon ceremony, thou
gh Hazel’s spirits remained high.
“I'm not sure I'll be here next year,” I confessed sheepishly. I don't know why I felt so embarrassed by that admission, but her surprised expression didn't help me feel any better.
I felt even worse when her hand reached across the table to cover mine. “Beacon Grove will always be your hometown, Storie. Even when your living relatives have all died away. You're always welcome.”
I offered a small, awkward smile. It sure didn't feel that way to me, but I chose to focus on something else she said instead of dwelling on my insecurities. “I thought all the Graves have passed on.”
“Oh, they have. Your maternal grandmother is still alive, though. Gods, Lunet has got to be pushing ninety now,” she mused, unaware that her words sent my heart crashing into my ribcage and blood rushing into my cheeks.
I did have family here.
How had I gotten so distracted with my father's side that I'd forgotten my mother was from Beacon Grove as well?
“I would love to meet her,” I rushed out, cutting off her rambling thoughts.
“Of course! I'm surprised you haven't yet. I'll write down her information. She's a little out of it these days, so it's probably best to call and talk to her nurse before dropping in.”
She rifled through her colorful, patchwork purse until she found a pen, then flipped over one of her business cards and scribbled an address and phone number on the back.
“I also brought some pictures of your mom. I couldn't resist looking through my old albums after I saw you at the festival. You remind me so much of Bonnie when we were your age.”
Her hands disappeared into the endless bag again and pulled out a black envelope that she slipped a stack of polaroids from. One by one, she set them on the table before me and pointed to the same freckle-faced, pale woman with white hair and glowing, purple eyes.
It was the first time I'd ever seen my mother's face. Until now, I could only rely on the image I made up of her in my head. Aunt Ash said she and my dad left town with the clothes on their backs after I was born, so there weren't any photos of family lying around that weren't taken after we all made it to the city. Like most things, she and Dad never explained the situation surrounding their departure. I only knew that it was desperate and rushed.
We almost looked nothing alike, but I knew what Hazel meant almost immediately. She held the same wanderlust gaze that I'd noticed in my own reflection since arriving here. A hope that hadn't been stomped out yet, though I was right on the edge of losing it. Seeing her with the same expression seemed to breathe life back into that part of me, encouraging me to keep going.
“She loved that sweater. She made it herself in our high school sewing class. I designed a whole line of them after she passed to honor her. It's still my best-selling product.” Hazel's watery eyes rolled to the ceiling. “That's what I get for teasing her about it every day.”
She moved onto the next few photos of them doing random things together, like lying on the beach that I assumed was on Remy's property, and standing in front of a Tudor-style home in formal dresses. My father stood beside her in that one, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. They looked at each other with goofy, lopsided grins while Hazel glared at her date on the other side. The guy in the photo looked familiar, though I couldn't figure out why until Hazel's finger tapped on his suited chest.
“Ugh, your dad's best friend, Kyle. They tried every trick to force us together, but we hated each other. He always held a torch for Asher, anyway. To this day, I can't stand him. He's the town's sheriff, though he had no business going into the police academy after all the stuff they pulled as kids.” Her voice dropped and the smile fell from her lips. “After your dad left, I guess he was just lost. Trying to right a wrong that wasn't his to right.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I sensed I wouldn't get an answer from her. Instead of prying, I gave her a private moment to collect herself while I stared down at the picture again. That was the officer from the day I first got to town. His shiny black hair had been cropped and his chest and shoulders filled out, but there was no denying it was him. In all the time I've spent in town, I'd yet to see him again. I wondered why that was.
“We were sorry to hear about him and Asher. Such a shame that both were gone too soon.” She shifted in her chair just slightly, enough to glance around her back, as if she were checking to see if anyone was listening.
The only other people in the shop were the workers behind the counter and each of them was leaning on the counters, staring into their phones. “I’m surprised Asher didn’t return sooner after Mason’s accident. She was always such a firecracker. We were sure she’d be coming into town with guns blazing to avenge his and Bonnie’s deaths. They were thick as thieves. I guess I didn’t consider that she was a new parent in a way.”
And there it was: the suspicious look on her face and matching shifty behavior of every single person who mentioned my family’s deaths. It was the exact reason I’d come to Beacon Grove in the first place. This town held secrets about my family that none of its inhabitants wanted to spill. They may have been infected with distrust toward one another, but their jaws remained fused shut when it came to talking about their business with an outsider.
Unfortunately for me, I was still considered to be on the outside despite the deep ties that rooted me here.
Hazel’s face told me more than her mouth ever would. In those few sentences, she confirmed that my parents’ deaths were somehow tied to the people of this town. That my father’s “accident” wasn’t much of an accident at all. And that Aunt Asher would go to great lengths to ensure his and my mother’s passings weren’t in vain. She was just held back from her plans by me, and by the time I was old enough to be on my own, they came for her, too.
“I’m sure it’s a hard subject for you to talk about,” Hazel awkwardly went on when I didn’t have much to say aside from a stiff nod.
She leaned back into her chair and waved away the emotions that were taking over her face again. “Anyway, I hope that I was able to provide you with some comfort. I miss your mom every day, but it’s nice to have a piece of her back in Beacon Grove.”
“It has. Thank you for bringing these.” I motioned to the pictures still sprawled out on the table between us.
The rest of our meal went on without incident. I found her to be an extremely easy person to get along with and our conversation flowed once we got past the topic of my family. She reminded me so much of Blaire with her odd views on things and uncaring attitude toward the people around her. When it was time to leave so she could reopen her shop, I wasn't ready to say goodbye and she made me promise we'd meet again soon. Not soon after the bell above the door rang with her departure, Julia and her friends surrounded my table.
After days of refusing to offer comment, Mayor Douglas has officially confirmed that the town has no plans to continue with this year’s Mabon festival.
"I'm confident that Beacon Grove can recover from the damage we've sustained from this horrific event and come out the other end even stronger," Douglas states at the most recent impromptu meeting.
Business owners are still reeling from their loss of income and wondering what the city plans to do in order to help them recoup their losses.
"I don't see how they can make this decision without consulting with the townspeople first. Now, we're left floundering and figuring how to make ends meet," Lisa Golden, owner of the Watchtower Tavern comments after the mayor's official statement.
Many are still wondering what happened at the Mabon kick-off and why the Quarters were unable to protect the town from this horrific attack.
When asked about how the Quarter families are handling this colossal disappointment, Rowan Wildes insisted, "You can be rest assured that we're handling this issue internally and working day in and day out to ensure our sons are well-equipped with the necessary tools to avoid this from happening in the future."
Wildes went on to add that w
hile they sort the matter out amongst themselves, he and the other three elder Quarters have stepped in and taken over the Quarter tasks until further notice.
Chapter 17
Remy
The woods behind the Easton property were the safest place for us to talk without interruption. Enzo made us wait until he could draw up a soundproofing spell. It finally lifted with some help from us to ensure no one overheard in the case that we were followed. He should have been able to handle the magic himself, especially being in his own element, but all he could manage were a few wisps of wind that stirred up the fallen leaves surrounding us and then died away.
It was proof that we were weakening by the second while our fathers capitalized off us. None of us shamed him when he admitted how difficult it was for him and with the protection spell in place, we released our grim thoughts.
“We’re fucked,” Rhyse began, taking a seat on a fallen log. His large body made the rotted wood creak and crack a little.
“We don’t know that,” Lux soothed. “Something is definitely syphoning our magic from us, though.” He stood with his arms crossed against his chest. His usually bright cerulean eyes drooped with fatigue.
All of us looked like worn-down and tired versions of ourselves, aging beyond our years when we should have been enjoying what our fathers promised would be the prime of our lives.
“I’m not doing any more of these training sessions with my dad,” Enzo started, his feet pacing the forest floor. Leaves and sticks crunched beneath his shoes, practically turning to dust against them. “They’re obviously gunning to take their roles back. It has to be them syphoning.”
“We don’t know that. Rayner has been picking up momentum with the Movement. People are pissed about Mabon. It could have been them practicing with dark magic that night to weaken us. Our fathers are just opportunists," Lux reasoned.
