‘I think this may be the strangest conversation I’ve ever had,’ Jackson frowned.
‘It’ll get easier,’ she patted him fondly, ‘I’ll call Olivia and keep an eye on Shelley and Miller. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out, somehow. In the meantime, I’ll see if Olivia can bring over some hex bags. That should keep the spirits out temporarily.’
‘Temporarily?’
‘This is their home Jackson,’ she told him pointedly, ‘they’ve been here longer than you. We need to find a way to re-instate the veil or at least find a way to cloak them from the natural field of human vision.’
Jackson nodded.
‘Will you be alright down here on your own?’ Shelley asked in concern as she stepped closer.
‘I’ll be fine love,’ he stroked Miller’s blonde curls softly as his boy laid his head against Shelley’s chest and sucked his thumb. Satisfied his son was okay, Jackson reached up and cupped Shelley’s face gently. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Honestly Jackson, I don’t know what to think right now,’ she told him candidly, her clear gaze meeting his. ‘But if you mean ‘am I leaving?’ the answer is no. As long as you and Miller are here, I’m not going anywhere.’
The urge to lean in and kiss her was so overwhelming it was almost painful, but it sure as hell wasn’t the time and place. He dropped his hand from her face and forced himself to take a step back, nodding. He watched silently as they disappeared through the door which led up to the apartment.
‘It won’t work you know,’ Dominik spoke up again as he took a final drag of his cigarette and dropped the butt into an empty glass.
Jackson looked across as he eased out of the booth and dropped his feet back down to the floor. Tucking one hand comfortably in his pocket, his other hand absently flicked the lid of his small golden lighter as he approached.
‘What won’t?’
Dominik circled his finger.
‘Your little fake haunting,’ he replied dryly. ‘I assume that was all for my benefit, hoping I’ll write an article about how haunted your little pub is, maybe bring some tourists into Mercy and drive some business your way? Won’t work,’ he repeated, ‘still I am flattered and maybe even a little impressed at your creativity. I have to admit it looked very realistic.’
Jackson shook his head, he wasn’t even going to bother to argue with the guy.
‘Drink?’ he offered as he turned and headed toward the bar.
Dominik shrugged and followed him curiously. Once again, he easily climbed up onto the bar stool as Jackson flipped up the lean to and headed behind the bar. He set two shot glasses on the glossy wood and filled them both with tequila.
‘Bottoms up,’ Jackson lifted his own glass in a mocking salute before tipping his head back and downing it in one go.
Dominik lifted his own glass and did the same.
‘Again,’ Jackson lifted the bottle.
‘Sure,’ he replied speculatively, ‘aren’t you going to say anything? Not going to try and convince me what I saw was real?’
‘Nope,’ Jackson tilted his head back and sucked back another shot. ‘No offense Mr Savage but you’re the least of my problems right now.’
‘Dominik,’ he corrected him, as his eyes narrowed, and he studied Jackson carefully. ‘I can’t figure you out,’ he mused, ‘and that is very unusual for me. I can’t decide if you’re incredibly clever or really…’
‘Really…?’ he waited for him to finish his sentence.
‘Sorry…sorry I’m here,’ the door suddenly swung open and Olivia hustled in from the cold. ‘I got here as quickly as I could. I can’t be long though, I’ve left Theo at home with the twins and they’re due a feed soon. Always gets a little tricky without all hands on deck.’
‘Did Fiona call you?’ Jackson frowned in confusion glancing at the bottle of tequila in his hand and finally setting it down on the bar. ‘She only went upstairs a moment ago.’
‘Roni called me,’ she replied. ‘I was just getting ready to head over here when Fiona called. I didn’t realize she was back.’
‘Ah,’ Dominik smiled, ‘so I’m up for act II, am I?’ he smiled dryly. ‘I can’t wait to see how you top that little special effects show.’
‘Who’s this?’ Olivia glanced over at him.
‘Dominik Savage,’ Jackson introduced him.
‘Hey,’ she lifted her chin in greeting.
‘And you are?’
‘Olivia Beckett-West,’ she replied.
‘West!’ he clapped his hands together slowly, ‘bravo,’ he shook his head. ‘I suppose she’s claiming to be a descendant of Hester West? And I suppose she’s also supposed to be a witch?’
‘Oh,’ Olivia replied blandly, ‘you’re that guy Roni was going on about.’
‘That would be me,’ he nodded. ‘Well go ahead,’ he flicked his hand, ‘dazzle me with your fake witchery. I’m sure it will be just as entertaining as the ‘ghosts.’’ He punctuated the air with quoty fingers.
Olivia rolled her eyes, who was this jerk? She supposed Roni probably wouldn’t be happy if she gave him a one-way ticket to the Underworld, but it was very tempting.
She looked over at Jackson as she dropped a bag on the bar. Unzipping it she pulled out a couple of hand stitched Hessian bags the size of small bean bags.
‘What are these supposed to be?’ Dominik glanced down into the bag.
Olivia snapped her fingers and two of her silver Spirit fire dragonflies burst into flame, hovering behind the small man, just out of his field of vision.
‘They’re hex bags.’
‘That’s it?’ he seemed almost disappointed.
‘What did you expect me to do, build a bonfire in the middle of the room and dance naked around it?’
His gaze briefly flickered over Olivia and a small genuine smile tugged at his lips. ‘I certainly wouldn’t object.’
She shook her head and rolled her eyes walking over to the nearest wall.
‘You don’t actually buy into this crap, do you?’ Dominik turned back to Jackson, still not noticing the magical flaming dragonflies hovering over his shoulder. He also missed Olivia raising her hand and muttering something under her breath. The hex bag laying on her palm swirled, engulfed in a small cloud of churning purple witch smoke, which rose and disappeared into the cavity of the wall taking the hex bag with it.
‘Miss West,’ Dominik turned back to look at her as she picked up another bag and crossed to the other wall.
‘Beckett-West,’ she corrected, ‘Mrs.’
‘Apologies,’ he inclined his head.
‘You can call me Olivia I suppose,’ she offered grudgingly.
‘You do actually understand that witchcraft isn’t real?’ he turned back to Jackson and once again her hand flared with witch smoke, but as her temper began to fray slightly the bag flew from her palm with more force than she’d intended and darted through the wall with a dull thud.
Dominik turned in the direction of the sound; unable to see anything amiss he turned back to Olivia.
‘I mean, it makes for a good story, but you do know you’re not a real witch, right? Magic is not real, it’s all just illusions and sleight of hand,’ he continued, unaware that two of the hex bags had levitated from the bar, and with a snap of Olivia’s temper flew toward the wall behind him, sinking through swirling portals of purple smoke which disappeared the minute the hex bag was safely embedded in the wall and leaving no trace of its presence.
‘I mean,’ Dominik turned back to the bar, ‘it’s understandable. It’s almost a form of mental abuse, some women are raised with the lie from birth. Brainwashed by the women of their family to believe they truly have power.’
Olivia’s eyes flashed, her hair suddenly whipped back from her face by an unseen wind as she fought the overwhelming urge to turn the guy into a toad.
‘When you think about it,’ he told Jackson, ‘it’s the same kind of mental abuse and mentality
you see in cults.’
‘Can I hex him?’ Olivia mouthed over his head.
Jackson smiled in amusement and shook his head.
‘Mr Savage?’ Olivia tapped his shoulder and as he turned around she pressed her forefingers to his forehead lightly, ‘sleep.’
He dropped forward onto the bar like a dead weight, his head thumping against the counter with a clang that warmed Olivia’s heart.
‘Cult mentality,’ she mumbled in disgust.
‘Was that necessary love?’ Jackson asked.
‘Yes, unless you wanted him to see me do this?’
She raised her hands and the rest of the hex bags rose from the counter flying across the room in all directions to embed themselves in the walls. Once that was done she began to murmur in a tone so low he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. Her eyes suddenly burned a cool silver and she was surrounded by a pale light. It began to expand, rippling out like a shock wave until it encompassed the whole room and disappeared into the walls.
‘There,’ she nodded as her eyes returned to normal, ‘that should do it for the moment. I’ve put hex bags in all the walls; they surround the whole bar, and I placed some at the four boundary corners of the property before I came in. I’ve also surrounded the place with Spirit fire. It’s not perfect. Fiona explained the veil seems to have disappeared completely, I’m not entirely sure what the consequences of that is. Hell, I’m not even sure how or why that happened, but I promise you we’re going to find out.’
‘Thank you, Olivia,’ Jackson breathed heavily, ‘it’s grateful that I am, but I fear the damage is already done.’
‘We’ll spin it Jackson,’ she assured him. ‘Don’t worry we’ll make this right I promise. According to Roni the pub wasn’t that full at the time. Tammy, Roni, Mac and Jake are all on damage control, as Mr ‘Witchcraft isn’t real’ here is convinced that it was all a hoax, we’ve decided to just go with it. Roni isn’t happy about it but we’re telling everyone it was just a practical joke.’
‘You think they’ll believe it?’
‘I think you’d be surprised what people can convince themselves of when they don’t want to face the alternative. Never underestimate the human capacity for denial.’
‘I guess.’
‘What about him?’ Jackson nodded down at Dominik who was snoring loudly as the dragonflies nudged his head mockingly.
‘He’ll wake up feeling like he’s drunk his way through an entire distillery,’ she snorted. ‘Just pour him into bed and tuck him in with an empty bottle and he’ll think he just passed out after a mammoth drinking session. Problem solved.’
‘Thank you, Olivia,’ Jackson told her sincerely.
‘Don’t worry Jackson,’ she lifted her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, ‘we’ve got your back.’
She stepped out into the center of the room, snapping her fingers as her dragonflies returned obediently to her side and hovered over her shoulder. Her gaze fell to the elegantly dressed man who was drooling slightly as he slept like a baby.
‘Witches aren’t real,’ she scoffed before swirling in a violent cloud of bright purple witch smoke, which burst out in a cacophony of colors as if to prove a point and when the smoke disappeared she was gone.
‘You have to admit Mr Savage,’ Jackson poured himself another tequila and toasted the unconscious man, ‘that woman has style.’
8.
Shelley’s eyes narrowed in concentration, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she tried to pipe a straight line of frosting onto the cake. Standing back to admire her work, she smiled. It wouldn’t win any prizes, but Miller would love it.
Jackson had offered to have Liddy Mayberry make Miller’s birthday cake, but Shelley wouldn’t hear of it. She’d been planning his cake for weeks, even before her life with Stuart had blown up and she’d ended up pretty much moving in with her favorite guys.
In the last few days life at the Salted Bone had once again settled down. The spirits appeared to be keeping to themselves. Whatever Olivia had done seemed to be holding for the moment. Slowly people had started drifting back into the pub, half of them content to live in denial and the other half so used to strange goings on in Mercy they didn’t bat an eyelid at an alleged haunting.
Picking up the small candle Shelley hummed absently to herself as she placed it on the cake.
Now that the spirit problem seemed to be under control, and after much deliberation, they’d decided to go ahead with Miller’s birthday party. Downstairs the pub would soon be filled with all their friends; Olivia and Theo with their two gorgeous babies, Jake and Roni, Louisa, Tommy and their son Jace, even Mrs Bailey, who’d really mellowed out and given up her mantle as town busybody since the sad death of her husband. Surprisingly enough, even the rude travel reporter Dominik Savage was attending.
He was something of an enigma. Polite, mildly spoken and often blunt, he could come across as a real asshole with a chip on his shoulder the size of New Mexico, but every so often there was a glimpse of something else underneath all of his sarcasm. Something that Jackson obviously warmed to.
Even after the Orthodontist’s convention had cleared out of town, with their white dazzling smiles, Dominik had flat out refused to move into the hotel or one of the smaller motels. Instead he’d stayed firmly rooted in Jackson’s guest room. He’d spend his days planted at one of the tables in the pub, either tapping away at his laptop or watching everyone like a hawk. Mostly Jackson; he watched Jackson with the preoccupied gaze of someone who was trying to figure out a puzzle. Convinced something was going on Dominik seemed determined to get to the bottom of it and expose it, whatever it was.
Jackson was more amused by it than anything.
Shelley smiled to herself as she shook her head. He was so easy going he always saw the best in everyone, even obnoxious travel reporters.
Satisfied with the cake she lifted it carefully into a box, so she could carry it downstairs. Glancing at her watch she gripped the sides to lift it, pausing and turning her gaze toward the door when she heard a tentative knock.
Leaving the cake on the counter she crossed the apartment and as she opened the door her stomach dropped. Stuart stood quietly staring at her, dark shadows under his eyes and his mouth set in a grim line.
She wasn’t sure how long they both stood there staring.
‘Shel,’ he cleared his throat, ‘may I come in?’
Shelley looked past him, realizing that he was by himself.
‘How did you get up here?’ she frowned.
‘There’s some sort of party going on downstairs,’ he replied. ‘I snuck past Jackson and headed up here. I figured if he saw me I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to you.’
‘It’s not like that,’ she sighed in frustration. ‘It was me who didn’t want to talk to you, no one was stopping me. You act like I’m being kept prisoner.’
Stuart snorted.
‘He’s always had a hold over you.’
‘That’s not fair,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t do that, don’t turn it back around on me. I’m not the asshole here.’
‘I didn’t come here to fight,’ Stuart blew out a breath, every bit as frustrated as Shelley. ‘Look, can I come in? We need to talk.’
Shelley glanced at her watch again.
‘Fine,’ she conceded, ‘you have five minutes. It’s Miller’s birthday and I’m needed downstairs.’
‘Of course you are,’ he muttered sourly as Shelley stepped back and allowed him to enter the apartment.
‘What was that?’
‘Nothing,’ he turned to face her.
‘Well?’ she crossed her arms defensively across her body.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded check which he handed to her. She took it and opened it, her gaze scanning the amount.
‘It’s the money I borrowed from you for the car,’ he told her. ‘I know you don’t believe me, but I always intended to pay you back
.’
‘Is that it?’ she scowled. ‘Is that all you have to say to me?’
‘I’m sorry,’ his shoulders sagged, ‘I never meant for this to happen, never meant for it to end this way.’
‘How long?’ she asked flatly.
‘Shel,’ he shook his head, ‘what good would it do?’
‘How long?’ she repeated.
‘A few months,’ he admitted.
‘A few months,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been working my ass off to keep a roof over our heads and pay for the medical expenses when I lost OUR BABY, and you were busy fucking some woman you work with, behind my back?’
‘Shel…’
‘Was she the first?’ she interrupted.
‘What does that matter?’
‘I want to know how big a moron I am.’
‘There wasn’t anyone else before her,’ he shook his head again. ‘You’ve got to believe me Shel, I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you, but after… you know after…’
‘After I lost our baby you mean?’ she answered coolly.
‘After you were in hospital,’ he amended, ‘you just lost interest in everything.’
‘And I assume by everything you mean sex?’ she replied sarcastically.
‘Not just sex,’ he denied, ‘I mean everything. You lost interest in me, in us.’
‘I was devastated!’ she shouted angrily, blinking back the hot tears burning her eyes. ‘I had not only lost a baby but was told I would never be a mother, that I would never have children of my own.’
‘I know,’ he snapped back just as angrily, ‘you forget that was my kid too!’
He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair in frustration.
‘I didn’t want to do this,’ he shook his head, ‘I don’t want to have a fight.’
A Little Town Called Mercy Page 14
