Witch-Child

by Gerilyn Marin

  I ignore the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest. And I don't blink for fear that it will force out some of the tears I feel burning in the corners of my eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Devilish Truths

  The chill in the wind bites at my cheeks and the tip of my nose as I walk. My hands clench into fists inside the pockets of my black bubble jacket. I try not to think about how long I've been walking, but that doesn't stop me from wagering a guess every now and again.

  I argue with myself over what just happened. Should I really be so mad? Do I have the right to be so mad? I haven't been completely honest with him, either. But I can't help feeling there's a difference. My dreams I've kept to myself because I don't really know what they mean. And they kind of scare me.

  But this?

  I shake my head, slipping a hand free to tuck a wayward lock behind my ear. Not that it'll do much good—the wind has been wreaking havoc on my hair this whole time. Hell of a day to be without some kind of hair-tie.

  No, Grey's dishonesty is different from mine. He purposely lied to me when he didn't have to. He never had to say that getting rid of Jack would fix Drake's Cove.

  My phone rings, but I don't know if I want to answer it. I'm pretty sure Grey is the one calling.

  Then I realize that whether or not I answer it, he's probably going to catch up with me in the Jeep any minute, since the only way he knows to get back to Drake's Cove is to backtrack the route I gave him to get to Knoll Park in the first place.

  Halting, I fish my phone out of my back pocket. A quick glance at the screen tells me I'm right.

  "What?" I snap as I answer the call.

  "Where are you?"

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Where could I possibly go? "On a road. Where are you?"

  "In the car."

  "Driving?"

  "Yes."

  I frown and start walking. "You can't talk on a cell while driving, you know. State law."

  "Well, tell me where you are so I can come pick you up."

  I get it, now. I'm a local, with far more knowledge of the area than he has. For all he knows, I took some alternate route home to avoid running into him.

  If only I’d had so much forethought . . . .

  "Maybe I don't want to tell you."

  It's a quiet afternoon, not much traffic at all, but this is when I hear the distinct sound of tires on the road moving in my direction.

  "Huh," I hear from the phone. "I would have thought you walked faster than this."

  "Whatever. I'm not stopping, so you can just drive all the way home."

  "Fine."

  I brace for the sound of tires roaring past me, but what I hear is the Jeep roll to a stop and Grey cuts the engine.

  With a sigh, I turn on a heel to face him as he climbs out and jogs up to me.

  We just look at each other for a moment, both of us fidgeting awkwardly.

  "Well?" I finally force out.

  "I'm sorry." His blue-green eyes are narrowed, like he's hoping I'll accept his words.

  Wow, that's all I get? Really? "I don't care."

  Grey's face falls as I turn away to resume walking at a brisk pace. Funny, seems like he's surprised I don't cave to that crappy apology.

  I hear his footfalls as he follows me.

  "You lied to me," I say, my voice a bit more shrill than I would like.

  "Hey, you lied to me first."

  I don't even bother to glance over my shoulder at him. "Oh, right, because that little fell-flat-in-two-seconds lie I told to get you to talk to me in the first place is just like this."

  "Okay." He pauses.

  I can only guess he's thinking up something.

  "What do you want? You want to hit me? Will that make you feel better?"

  I shake my head. "Doubt it."

  "Will it get you to listen to me, at least?"

  I don't answer, but I know it's possible. I must give some outward sign that I don't notice—like a small nod—because he makes a sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat.

  "All right, then. Go ahead."

  "Well," I don't really need to think this over, but I pause so that it seems like I do. "Ya know what? No. You can't be serious."

  He slips a hand around my elbow, pulling me to a stop, but I don't turn to face him yet. "I am. I will let you, I don't know, punch me in the face, if that will get you to talk to me."

  I flick a glance over my shoulder—just enough to gauge where he is, so I don't miss—before spinning on my heel to send my fist crashing into his cheek.

  Grey stumbles back a few steps, but I'm pretty sure that's more because I caught him by surprise than anything else. His hands fly up to cover the impact area. He shakes his head, and his eyes look like they are watering a bit.

  "Damn, woman!"

  Okay, so maybe Jeremy taught me how to throw a mean right hook. He always said no sister of his was going to fight like a girl. He also taught me how to uppercut, but in all fairness, Grey had said in the face, so I guess the underside of his jaw doesn't count.

  "You said to punch you in the face," I remind him.

  He takes a deep breath and gives another shake of his head. "Fair enough. Feel better?"

  I take a moment's thought, crossing my arms against a chilly gust of a wind. "Not really," I say with a shrug, "but I'll listen, now."

  "Good." He gestures toward the Jeep.

  The wind isn't going to die down any time soon, and he did just invite me to deck him, so as much as I still want to play the right-to-be-a-bitch card, instead I simply nod and start walking to the vehicle.

  "Why?" I ask once we're on the move.

  "I just didn't think you'd help me, otherwise," he says with a shrug.

  I flip down the sun visor and check my face in the tiny mirror affixed to the other side. My eyes are clear, and I can only hope they were just as clear when he'd caught up to me.

  I really don't want him to know that I was almost in tears because of him.

  "Funny, I thought I'd already been helping you at the time."

  He spares a second to glance at me. "I mean, I didn't think you'd keep helping after things got . . . weird."

  I turn, letting my gaze roam the scenery as I try to think about this from his side. If I thought Gran was some sort of devil-thing, would I expect him to stick around and help me dig into her past, once he learned that?

  Probably not.

  "Well," I say, clearing my throat, "I suppose I might've needed a bit more personal motivation to go lurking around a cemetery in the middle of the night."

  We both fall silent for a while. I can't guess what he might be thinking, because I'm not even sure what I'm thinking. All I know, is that the air in the car feels the same way the living room used to feel after Mom and Dad settled an argument.

  Crap, it's like we're a couple or something.

  "So, we're good?" he asks.

  I sigh. "Yeah. So tell me what Sarah said."

  "I think I should be flattered. She said I'm cute for someone who's not completely human."

  An unexpected ripple of anger runs through me, but I tamp down on it immediately. I am not jealous. I've admitted he's cute, myself, a million times. No reason to get uppity over a statement of fact, and he's not mine or anything.

  "I meant about breaking the seal, Narcissus."

  He grins—which makes me wonder if he mentioned Sarah's observation to get a reaction out of me—and reaches in front of me, fishing around in the glove compartment.

  "Here," he says, pulling out a couple of folded pieces of torn, spiral notebook paper and dropping them in my lap. "Supplies and instructions."

  "Supplies?" I echo as I open the pages.

  The first piece is a shopping list: white pillar candles, incense, rock salt, a knife—though, this is Sarah, so the word used is athame—and colored sidewalk chalk.

  "Halloween?" I read aloud from the top of the second page, but the name written is Samhain, because again, t
his is Sarah.

  Grey nods. "She said something about that night being appropriate for our needs because the moon phase will be representative of weakening—"

  "You mean a waning crescent?"

  His mouth tugs into a small frown. "I wasn't sure if you'd know what it's called. And also. because the veil, or whatever, between the physical plane and the spiritual is thin."

  I giggle.

  "What?" He arches a brow, giving a small, curious chuckle in response.

  "Hello? My last name is McKenna. Halloween started as an Irish holiday; you really think I didn't already know the beliefs behind it?"

  Honestly, I'm more miffed that we have to wait another two and a half weeks to do this. I guess because everything's come at us so fast until this point, I just didn't expect we'd have to prolong the solution.

  "Excuse me, Miss Smarty Pants."

  "Ah, well. Looks like I'm going to have to miss getting hit on by football players at the Halloween Dance this year."

  From the corner of my eye, I see his shoulders shift before he says, "They think you're taken, remember?"

  I pout at him, feeling better about my little temper flare over Sarah. "Aw, what's the matter? You almost sounded jealous for a sec, there."

  "I just . . . think it's rude and scummy when a guy hits on a girl who has a boyfriend, is all."

  "Uh-huh."

  He shifts again before asking, "Can we get back on topic, please?"

  I flip back to the first page, skimming the list. "Why didn't you just buy these supplies while you were there?"

  "I did."

  Looking up, I see him nod toward the backseat. Instead of turning around, I angle the mirror on the sun visor. Right behind him is a filled, cloth shopping bag.

  "Ah."

  "So we need to go do some more research."

  Groaning, I let my head fall back against the seat. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm sick to death of looking stuff up."

  "Well, I need to look at old property lines and stuff like that." His gaze meets mine briefly. "That's a matter of public record, isn't it? Like I can find that at Town Hall?"

  "What exactly is it we're looking for now?" I really am tired of the investigative part of all this; I just want to get to the actually doing-something portion.

  "I need to know where the original Town Hall was. See, we can only break the seal close to the area where Elizabeth first cast it,” he hurries on, answering the next logical question before I can ask it. “Of course, the exact location is much more ideal, but we're probably not going to be able to find that, so I'm settling. Since Jack 'died' in the Town Hall fire, I have to think it's there."

  "It's school," I say simply.

  "Wait, what?" He furrows his brow. We're at a stop light now, almost back in Drake's Cove, and he turns in his seat to look at me. "What's school?"

  I roll my eyes. "As in, our school is built on the spot where the Town Hall was."

  Grey drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he ponders something. "At least we won't have to break in. That's a relief."

  That confuses me. "What do you mean?"

  "I was worried the new site was a house, or store. I mean, if we have to break the seal on Halloween, and there's a school dance on Halloween . . . ."

  "You want us to skulk around the school in the dead of night on Halloween?" Yeah, like schools weren't creepy enough after sundown, already. "Most of the rooms will be locked. How are we going to do that?"

  "I might know how to pick locks."

  I turn my head very slowly to look at him. "Should I even ask why?"

  "Probably better that you don't." He's determinedly keeping his eyes on the road.

  I really want to know, but I suppose it's not important right now. "All right, then."

  "So," he says after making an obvious effort to let go of some tension I haven't realized he's been holding. "Wanna be my date for the Halloween Dance, then?"

  I snort, talking before I can stop my lips from moving. "Why don't you just go with Sarah?"

  Cringing, I clamp my lips shut. My tone had been totally spurned-girl. There's no way he missed that, and even if he did, I'm pretty sure my reaction to my own slip-up speaks volumes.

  Sure enough, I look over to find him smirking.

  "I'm sorry, who's jealous?" He asks.

  "I am . . . not jealous." I try to think of something else to say, but nothing comes to mind.

  "You so are."

  "Pfft, whatever. I don't even like you, remember?"

  Suddenly, he hits the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road. I watch in complete surprise as he looks around, checking if any cars are coming.

  The moment Grey turns to face me, he reaches out quickly, cupping the back of my head, and pulls me close.

  I'm so shocked, that before I can register what's happening, he's kissing me.

  His lips are soft, and warm . . . and he smells good. I can't stop myself from kissing him back. The tip of his tongue strokes across my bottom lip, and I give in, feeling the sweet, tingling sensation of his breath rushing into my mouth.

  But just as his tongue slips between my lips, the angry blare of a car horn sounds behind us.

  He pulls back, pressing his forehead to mine for just a second and whispering, "Whoops," before he slips away entirely and puts the Jeep into drive again.

  I slump in my seat, reminding myself to breathe, and letting the heat that just flooded my face cool.

  "You always let yourself get kissed by guys you don't like?"

  "Never," I say as soon as my voice starts working.

  "There ya go," he says with a laugh.

  "Fine, you proved your point. I don't not like you."

  "Do you always have to be so difficult?"

  I shrug and force a syrupy smile. "It's part of my charm."

  Grey opens his mouth to speak, but then shuts it again and just rolls his eyes.

  "Okay," he says, his entire demeanor turning serious instantly. "Wait. The school's a pretty big building; a Town Hall from back in the day couldn't have been the same size."

  "Huh?" Holy non-sequitur thoughts, what is this boy babbling about?

  I feel my expression become pinched as I ask, "So?"

  "So?" He looks at me like he doesn't understand why I don't follow his train of thought. "That means the school isn't just on the same spot; the larger building surrounds the original area. That's too much guesswork. We're still going to have to go to go look this up."

  "Damn it."

  "Unless you know which part of the school actually covers the foundation of the first Town Hall?"

  I sit perfectly straight, feeling smug for a moment as I grin at him. "It just so happens that I . . . ."

  My words trail off as I, for a change, think before I speak, and realize where we have to go. The pit of my stomach ices over.

  "I what? Cae? What's wrong?"

  I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly oblivious to my jacket and the warmth of the Jeep.

  "It's that subbasement. Th-the one they use for storage, where we saw that ghost."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sneaky-Sneaky

  "I really hope Ms. Brenner's in a forgiving mood today," I say, more to myself than Grey, as he closes the stairwell door.

  Ms. Brenner isn't the meanest teacher in school, not even close, but I have no frame of reference for how hard she comes down on students who cut her English class. It won't matter to my mom that this is Grey's idea; if anything, that will make any impending punishment worse.

  And I'll have to sit through some lecture about how girls need to think for themselves.

  "What are we doing, again?" He told me during lunch, I'm sure, but he sat close to me at the time. Really close. I wasn't listening; all I could think about was the way his thigh pressed against mine.

  God, that would not have been such a big deal a week ago.

  He frowns. "Do you even listen when I talk?"

  "Um, usually," I say with a helpl
ess shrug.

  Grey sighs and shakes his head at me, before starting down the stairs. "We're going to check out that storage room."

  "Oh." I catch up to him, a little nervous about going toward that door again.

  I can't help but worry about seeing that ghost-thing, like I did last time.

  We pass the door to the cafeteria and continue downward. After we turn the bend in the stairwell, he asks, "So, we're just . . . not going to talk about that kiss?"

  I freeze, cringing. "That was the plan."

  He turns to face me, his eyes narrowed. "Cae, what is your problem?"

  "I don't have a problem." Except that I'm able to look everywhere, but at him right now.

  "Really?" He doesn't say anything more 'til I at last force my gaze to meet his. "Then what's this all about?" He holds up his hand and—to my surprise—my fingers are laced through his.

  Why didn't I notice that before? Did I automatically take his hand when I caught up to him a few seconds ago? Well, the school does think we’re dating, and it's not my fault my relationship-habits scream affectionate girlfriend.

  With an angry little pout, I pull at my fingers, but he closes his hand around mine, not letting me go.

  My shoulders slump as I gape up at him. "What are you doing? Weren't you just complaining about—?"

  "That wasn't a complaint, Cadence," he says softly.

  I feel my face heat up and instantly become hyperaware of his hand on mine. "Oh."

  "I think I asked you this before, but you didn't give me a good answer." We inch backwards as he speaks, until my back is against the wall of the stairwell, but I don't really notice. "Why are you so difficult?"

  "Difficult," I echo, my voice squeaking out in a whisper. "What am I being difficult about?"

  "Me," he breathes the word as he lifts his free hand to trace my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Us. Why can't you let whatever's going to happen, happen?"

  "I . . . I don't know," I say honestly. "Maybe I'm just a bitch."

  He smirks. "Maybe."

  His hand slides into my hair, and he urges me up onto my toes.

  I stretch to kiss him, but he leans back a little, just out of my reach.

  Grinning wickedly, he whispers, "See that? You really do like me."