Smiling, she sat down on the top step. For the first time in three years she craved a cigarette. She used to smoke. She’d worked herself up to half a pack a day before her aunt had asked her to quit. But moments like this would be great for a smoke break and she knew it.
She pulled out her phone to check her email and messages instead.
The door creaked open behind her and she turned to see Grayson in the doorway again.
“Okay,” he said with an easier smile. “Sorry about that.”
Reese shrugged. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Can we talk out here?” he asked.
She moved over on the step to make room for him. “Full disclosure, I’m not a vampire. And that you-have-to-be-invited-inside stuff only works on the undead. You know that right?”
His face didn’t change. “I know. You’re a shark shifter who bartends at Alpha’s.”
Reese’s eyebrows shot up, impressed. “Now who’s the detective?”
“It’s nothing personal. My parents have a no-strangers-in-the-house-while-they’re-gone policy. So I can’t let you in, even if I trust you.”
“Noted.”
He took the seat beside her, leaving space between them.
“You’re lucky you caught me here,” he said. Reese realized he’d brought the Chinese out with him. At this angle she could see the noodles and smell the delicious scent of fish oil. “I almost went to work tonight.”
“Where do you work?” she asked, casually. It had nothing to do with the attack, but it seemed a little rude to jump right into the horror part of the conversation.
“Curiosity Books. It’s on the corner of Apple and Magnolia.”
“Oh, Tabby’s place,” she said.
He forked noodles into his mouth. “How do you know Ms. Monroe?”
“Cat shifter,” she said, picking at a small scab on her elbow. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten it. Maybe she’d nicked a fin on the coral or something. “She’s a little skittish but very sweet.”
“Cat shifter,” Grayson repeated. He’d stopped chewing and was staring at her.
“News to you, huh?” she asked with a smile. “Well, forget I mentioned it then.”
With arched eyebrows he let it slide. “A cat shifter living with a ghost. That’s something you don’t hear every day.”
Reese had heard about the ghost. In their brief, passing conversations, Tabby had mentioned the ghost the way one mentions their plants.
Reese took a deep breath. “I’m sure it’s hard to talk about, but can you tell me what happened in the cove? Try to be as detailed as you can. Even things that you don’t think matter might really help us figure out what’s going on.”
And the more details you give me, the better chance I have keeping Ethan away from you.
He finished the noodles in his mouth, then balanced the carton on his knee.
“It was my birthday,” he said, licking the oil off his lips.
“Shit.” Reese flicked her finger ever though there was no cigarette ash to dispense. It was a habit, unlike the smoking itself, she hadn’t been able to break.
“Yeah,” Grayson said, looking out over the yard to the street. A couple of kids on bicycles waved at Grayson as they passed. He returned the wave.
“Friendly neighborhood you’ve got here.”
Grayson smiled. “They’re my little brother’s friends.”
She involuntarily flicked her fingers again. She didn’t want to speak, waiting for him to fall into the easy retelling that she was expecting.
He didn’t disappoint. He recounted in faithful detail the night in question. From the moment they stripped down on the beach—Grayson and his two friends, Abigail and Landon—and swam to Heart’s Rock. He ended with the moment he saw Landon’s body in the shallows.
Reese nodded as if to say that was enough. “A storm, you say?”
“Yeah,” he said, digging into his noodles again. But she could see his heart was no longer in it. “It came in really fast from the ocean.”
Reese tucked this detail into her memory.
“Do you think Abby noticed anything you didn’t?” Reese asked. She would go over and question the girl regardless, but she was offering Grayson the chance to invite himself along.
She liked this kid. Not really a kid. There was only eight years difference in their ages, but he seemed older. She thought it might be how composed he was. Unlike a lot of the co-ed dude bros that she saw in the bars on the weekend, Grayson smacked of maturity. She liked him better for it.
“She might,” he said. “We can go ask her.”
Reese stood, smiling. “Are you going to bring the noodles?”
“No,” he said with a brilliant smile. Perfect white teeth compliments of dental work no doubt. “One sec.”
He disappeared in the house as Reese stood and stretched. She climbed in the truck and turned the key. When he opened the passenger side door, she reached across the bench seat to gather up some papers she’d left.
“Sorry,” she said, folding them in half and putting them in the glovebox with a firm shove. “Just some notes.”
Grayson put on his seatbelt. “No worries. I was just thinking how clean your car is.”
She snorted. This kid was polite to a fault. She tapped the dash of her truck. “Yeah, she doesn’t look like she should be in such good condition, but I love her.”
Grayson smiled. “I can tell.”
She turned the key and the truck rattled to life. “So where does Abby live?”
“Just east of Hyde Park,” he said. “In Hummingbird Hollow.”
“Okay.” She put the car in reverse and checked her mirrors before backing into the street.
Reese focused on the road until she heard Grayson’s breath hitch. She glanced over and saw his furrowed brow.
“What?” she asked.
“Don’t be—” Grayson began, but he didn’t seem to know how to finish. “Abby’s having a hard time.”
“I’m not going in to play bad cop or anything. I know how to talk to people.”
He nodded, offering her another polite smile.
They rode in silence past large, looming mansions that lined Hyde Park. The revival architecture and old live oaks thick with moss seemed to say old creatures dwell here.
Just east of Hyde Park, before the Castle Cove University border began, was a small neighborhood called Hummingbird Hollow. It was populated by small, quaint ranch-style homes and postage stamp yards. They turned off Ruby Road onto Violetear Drive looking for the small yellow house.
The front door was open as if waiting for them.
Reese swung the red truck into the driveway. “Thanks for coming. I think it’ll be easier for her to talk if someone she knows and trusts is with me.”
They climbed out of the truck as Abby stepped out onto the porch. Reese saw the resemblance to the detective immediately. The same hair and stern face. Only the nose was different.
Abby visibly stiffened at the sight of Reese. Reese knew what this meant immediately, having watched thousands of jealous barroom exchanges in her day. Abby was into Grayson. And if Reese’s nose was any judge, the feeling was reciprocal. If they hadn’t already slept together, they would soon.
Reese tried not to grin and give the game away.
“Come in,” Abby said, holding open the door for Reese.
Reese pretended not to see Grayson squeeze Abby’s hand as he passed into the house.
“Thanks,” Reese muttered, following in behind him.
The house was a ranch. It had a simple open floor plan and 9-foot ceilings, bright and airy.
Abby cleared her throat. “Do you want anything to drink or—?”
The girl smelled like shampoo and soap. Her face was freshly scrubbed and dewy.
“Water, if you don’t mind,” she said.
Abby gestured to the mustard yellow sofa in the center of the front room. “Take a seat.”
Reese obeyed, tucking herself into
the corner of the couch and pulling a lacey pillow into her lap. Grayson tucked himself into a navy arm chair, crossing his leg over his thigh.
“Here.” A second later, Abby put the cool cylinder of water in her hand.
“Thanks.” Reese took the obligatory sip before resting the glass on her leg. “I’m here to—”
“I know,” Abby interrupted. She took the twin armchair opposite Grayson’s. “I spoke to my mom earlier.”
“Great,” Reese said, hoping that would relieve some of the lingering tension. But Abby still seemed on guard. “If you could just tell me what happened.”
After two false starts—as if the girl didn’t seem to know which way she wanted to tell it—she began again. She recounted the night slowly with even more detail than Grayson had.
Because she’s a detective’s daughter, Reese thought. She’s been taught to pay attention.
When she finished, Abby flicked her eyes to meet Reese’s. “Someone was using magic. A lot of it.”
Grayson turned, mouth slack. “How do you know that?”
Reese knew the answer before she spoke. It brought the situation into sharp focus then: her reluctance to lower her guard, her concern for retelling the story, and revealing this detail.
“I’m apprenticed to the coven,” Abigail said plainly. “I’m a witch.”
“You’re a witch?” Grayson asked. Reese had the urge to gently slap his cheek and snap him out of it.
It hadn’t been Reese’s reaction that the girl had worried about. After all, shifters were walking magic.
“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it.” Abby’s cheeks were burning red. “Your parents are sort of—purists.”
This statement seemed to hurt him most of all.
“Abby. We love you. Not one person in my family would give a damn if you’re a witch.”
Her eyes flicked down to her lap. To Reese, she smelled like embarrassment and also relief. Reese wasn’t sure if she should leave or pretend she hadn’t become hostage to this intimate exchange.
“So you could feel the magic?” Reese asked, trying to regain ground.
“Yes. And there was a surge of it right before the sirens showed up. I knew something was wrong, but I was halfway to shore when I felt it so I couldn’t do anything in the water. Then once I did get to shore—” She licked her lips. “Everything happened so fast after that.”
Reese rubbed her knees. “Could you tell where the magic was coming from?”
“West,” Abby said without hesitation. “Somewhere along Canyon Road. But I can’t be more specific than that. Sorry.”
“You’ve been a huge help,” Reese said, standing. “I don’t have any other questions now, but would either of you mind talking to me again if I think of more?”
They both shook their heads.
“Thanks. Grayson do you want a ride back?”
“I’ll take him,” Abby said.
Reese didn’t miss the involuntary way that Grayson’s lips twitched in a suppressed smile.
“Cool,” she said again. “Well, I’m off.”
She returned to the truck, leaving the kids in the house.
As she reached the truck, a man shifted in her passenger seat. Reese screeched.
“That’s unnecessary,” Ethan said.
“Christ.” She eased open the door and climbed into the truck, trying to slow her breath. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to know what happened,” Ethan prompted. He examined his crystalline nails in the light. “So...what have we learned?”
Reese tried to relax against the seat as she recounted both stories, ending with the revelation that a burst of magic had been used that night.
Ethan’s gaze darkened. “Interesting. Coupled with what we already know, that suggests something...very sinister indeed.”
“So is this the end of my investigation?” Reese asked. She was aware that Ethan was sitting not twenty feet from the kids.
He surfaced from his thoughts, smiling at her. “You could help Liam with further investigation...” He let his gaze slide down to her lips. “Unless you’re willing to die in order to save us all?”
“That doesn’t sound...appealing.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said, with hellfire in his eyes. “But you see the person who has come to town is as strong as I am. I cannot stop her, not truly. Only Vendetta herself can do that. And Vendetta is...unreliable. When I think she will protect herself, she does not. When I think she wouldn’t bother, she strikes. I can only be sure that she is safe...that we are all safe if I cocoon her in old magic. Source magic. Magic like what you have.”
Reese Choice 12
Help Liam
Sacrifice Yourself
Grayson: Trust Abby and take off the necklace
Grayson wrapped his hand around the onyx. “Can you get the clasp?”
He leaned toward her, feeling her cold fingers on the back of his neck.
The weight slid off his neck, clinking into her palm. She slid it into a cup holder.
“Thank you for trusting me,” she said, her eyes shining. “It’s just a small protection spell. I would never do anything that changed your will or something like that.”
“I know.” He smiled. “So how does it work?”
A crooked grin tugged her lips to one side. “Like this.”
She leaned across the console and brushed her mouth against his. Her parting lips invited movement of his own. He opened his mouth and welcomed the brush of her tongue.
A warm tingle ran down his spine, raising the goosebumps on his arms and the back of his neck.
She pulled back from the kiss, panting. “We better get a move on.”
“No,” he said.
She laughed. “Yes.”
She grabbed the pack between her legs and threw open the passenger side door.
“Come on.”
Grayson looked at the dashboard clock. It was 12:12. She was right. They were losing daylight.
He stepped from the car into the tall grass. It scratched at his jeans as he rooted in the backseat for his pack. He hefted the pack onto his shoulders and locked up his car. With several long, loping strides he was able to catch Abigail at the edge of the woods.
A shiver ran down his spine as he recollected the illustration from The Dark Mother and Her Children. He didn’t see any eyes watching him, waiting for him to step vulnerable into the woods. But he suspected there might be creatures here that he couldn’t see. This was Castle Cove after all.
Abby took his hand and pulled him into the forest. “I want us out of here before dark. Come on.”
The dense canopy overhead immediately blotted out most of the sunlight.
They hadn’t even gone twenty feet before he realized he was right about the low light. He’d suspected the covering in this part of the forest was thick, dappling what little sunlight they had.
In the Wayward Woods, he could walk until nearly sunset and count upon the light. The trees weren’t as crowded and the wide expanse of bright sky overhead invited hikers to linger in any of the beautiful, open fields surrounding the trails. Lake Trail, in particular, offered a gorgeous view for stargazing. And it was close enough to Sunset Park that one could linger well into the evening and feel relatively safe.
Here the trees seemed to stand almost on top of one another.
They are crowding in on us, he thought. He shivered again.
“We need to get to The Crone Tree within three hours if we can. We can make it if we keep a good pace,” he said.
Her head was up. Her eyes were bright. He respected her even more for that. She’d always been smart, probably one of the most brilliant students at their school, but her seriousness—when seriousness was merited—had always impressed him. Landon had been a jokester. He’d laughed at all the wrong moments and whenever the moments had been tense, like when Abigail’s father left town and never came back, he’d tried to use laughter to dispel the gloom.
“I don’t think we should talk,” she whispered.
Grayson agreed so they walked in silence.
First a mile. Then two. By the third mile, his mind had entered a sort of trance state as it often did when he walked. His thoughts flittered away and left him only with the sensation of the experience. His body laboring. Fresh air moving in and out of his chest. A slight sweat forming on his brow and the back of his neck. The shirt trapped between his skin and backpack had grown damp.
He kept walking.
However, it was difficult to traverse the woods with complete stealth. It looked lush and green. The forest floor was thick with spongy moss and soft clover. Their steps should be nearly muted. And yet, it seemed that every snapping twig, every shifting rock betrayed them.
Something is wrong, he thought. The forest was beautiful. Grayson might even have used the word inviting. But he found himself thinking of the story about lost children finding a house made of candy. He was sure the witch’s candy house had seemed inviting, too.
The canopy shed sparkling light onto their path as if urging them further, deeper into the woods.
A wild thought visited him then.
This forest is alive. Like a single, sentient creature, it lived. Not only did it live, but it knew they were there and did everything it could to draw them deeper into its yawning maw.
He hesitated on the path.
Abby froze instantly beside him. She looked eager, almost ready to bolt and run the other way.
“Does it feel....” He searched for the right words. Now, the idea that he would come to this forest, that he would look for this damned tree seemed incredibly stupid. “Does it feel alive to you?” he whispered.
When Abby didn’t answer, he was worried that perhaps he was too quiet to be heard.
Then she nodded. Her eyes had gone a fraction wider since they’d first entered.
“There’s a lot of magic here,” she whispered. He saw goosebumps prickle along her skin. “I’ve never felt anything like it. There’s magic all over Castle Cove, more in some places than others. But this...” She was unable to finish her sentence.
Night Tide Page 22
