Frog Hollow (Witches of Sanctuary Book 1) (4 page)

I raise my eyes, only to quickly let them drop back to my plate. She studies my face a little too intently for my liking. My first instinct is to lie. It’s always to lie. If this woman knows them so well, then she obviously knew my mother too. Of course, that doesn’t mean she will immediately recognize my name as Reid had, but I don’t know if that is a risk I should take. I remind myself I came here for one reason, and that is to learn about my past, and my mother in particular, so I shouldn’t let this guy who doesn’t even know me ruin it. “Wilhelmina Daniels,” I say softly, looking back up at her.

I expect shock, or maybe disinterest. I didn’t expect to watch her smile, the crooked corners of her oddly painted lips to lift up as she lets out a hearty laugh. “It’s about time you came home.”

She casually reaches under the bar to grab a pitcher of water. She refills my glass as I try to control the dumbfounded look on my face. She obviously notices and decides to take pity on me. “I recognized you the second you sat down on that stool, honey bear.” She lets out another cackle before scooting her glasses back up her long nose. “You were either Fiona’s daughter or her ghost.”

“A-a-and you just knew?”

She ignores my question, turning her attention back to the table behind me. “May I ask why you are sitting here like you don’t have a friend in the world when your family is right there?”

I grimace, my natural reaction to interrogation. It’s like my nose has a mind of its own and wrinkles in disgust against the better judgment of the rest of my face.

Her face turns solemn. “Have you even been by to see Sera yet?”

I purse my lips, pressing them together so hard that when I release them, they let out a resounding pop. Which, of course, is code for no. “It’s complicated.”

One of the rowdy patrons calls for her down at the other end of the bar, but she holds up her hand, signaling for them to wait. And they do. Without question. “How is visiting your family complicated?”

This lady is much more than a bartender. I instantly regret opening my mouth. Involuntarily, I glance back over my shoulder at Reid, who laughs at his sister. He swipes his unruly hair out of his eyes, making the large knot on his forehead more prominent. His smile, which somehow makes you completely forget the ghastly wound above it, is completely genuine. Neither of them is here out of obligation to the other. They merely enjoy each other’s company.

A part of me—a deep, tortured part I like to pretend doesn’t exist—wants to return the gesture, because I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I don’t want to eat dinner by myself or resort to becoming a professional kitty litter cleaner. I don’t want to be that kid in the corner with the labels and record sheet explaining why no one should want me.

I want more.

I’m sure my face clearly showcases the emotion I feel, which means it’s past time for me to go. I grab cash from my pocket and throw it on the bar. “I think I should be getting home,” I say, dropping my gaze. The same shame that has haunted me my entire life forces its way back to life.

Fingers wrap around my wrist, halting my escape, and when I look up, I catch the shocked fury in her eyes. “Did he say something to you?”

“No.” My voice cracks, and the lie is obvious. “It’s not like—” I try again, but her eyes light up with fire. “I don’t want to cause a scene. He doesn’t want me to talk to them, so please let me leave unnoticed.”

Her free hand slaps across the bar top with a resounding boom I didn’t think possible from such a small woman. Every eye in the place turns to her, every voice muted. “David Reid Thomas!”

I wilt in my seat, closing my eyes, trying to pretend this isn’t real, that she isn’t calling him out for being mean to me in front of half the town.

A high-pitched scratch echoes through the room, the sound of a wood chair on tiled floor. I shrink deeper against the bar, but it’s too late. Reid stands at the table, his questioning eyes on his aunt. “What’s up, Cari?”

She lets go of my arm to round the bar, stopping just short of his table, cocking her head and her hip to the side. I grew up around enough hot-tempered women to recognize the gesture. This will end badly for me. In an effort to save my own skin, I slide off the stool and ease silently toward the exit.

“I want to know who the hell gave you the right to tell Fiona’s daughter not to talk to Seraphina.”

I round the hostess stand when she spins around and points at me. Instinctively, I jump behind the brown-headed girl and close my eyes as if somehow that might help.

“Well?” the volatile lady, apparently named Cari, asks again.

Footsteps creak across the room, and I can’t make myself open my eyes.

“Julie.” Reid’s voice is stern but unnaturally pleasant. “Do you mind?”

My shield shifts in front of me, and I peek one eye open to find Reid standing in front me with an I-should-have-known look on his face. I shoot him an innocent smile.

He rolls his eyes, glancing back at the table where his sister and two friends gawk at us. Cari stands in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer to her question.

“I didn’t know she would make such a fuss.” I nervously smile back at the faces around the room. I’ll look anywhere but at Reid at this point.

“You obviously don’t know Carolyn Hughes.” His chin is set tight. He’s trying very hard to rein in his temper. “Besides, this is her restaurant. She can make a fuss if she wants to.”

Abby tucks her purple hair behind her ear and climbs up on a chair to peer over the crowd at us. I turn sideways, trying to hide my face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make it worse,” I whisper. “I’m leaving.”

I dart toward the door, but he catches the tail of my shirt. I stumble backward as he steps forward, slamming into the stone wall of his chest. His lips touch my ear. “Wait here.”

Immobile, I watch him stalk back to the table, passing by Cari, offering her nothing more than a hard stare. He goes directly to his sister with his hand held out. “May I have my keys back?”

Abby stares down at him from her perch. “Why? What’s going on? Is that really her?”

“Abby,” he begs. “Please?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, displeased with his answer. Abby’s boyfriend, Grady, sticks his hand in her purse that sits on the table and lobs the keys toward Reid. Reid gives him an appreciative smile. “Make sure these two make it home for me, will you?”

Grady gives Reid a quick nod, and the next thing I know, he’s in front of me again, pointing toward the door. I look back at Abby, a twinge in my heart as she gives me the slightest of smiles. Reid catches my elbow and spins me toward the door. The bell rings over our heads, and the crowd erupts in murmurs behind our backs.

Chapter 4

NAMING THE UNKNOWN

It’s pitch dark. Nothing but streetlamps light our march down the sidewalk. I constantly stumble to keep up with Reid’s long strides. It’s not because I’m staring at his ass in those jeans.

Definitely not that.

He pulls me down an alleyway that is lit only by the dim lamps hanging over the doorways. I point in the opposite direction. “My car is that way.”

“I’ll get it later.” He pushes forward down the alley, never bothering to look back.

We come out on another street where he stands looking up and down the block before motioning for me to follow him across the road. I still look twice each way even though the street is deserted. He waits next to a double-cab, gray truck. He flings the passenger side door open and pushes me inside. “Where are we going?”

He ignores me, slamming the door in my face. Once he’s in the driver’s seat, I shoot him a dirty look and try again, this time a little less friendly. “Where are we going?”

“I thought maybe we’d go to your house, let you hit me over the head again.” He glares over at me, gesturing toward his wound. “You know, to even it out, because I think it looks pretty stupid lopsided like this.”

“Smartass.” I throw myself back into the seat and cross my arms as he backs out of the parking space. “No wonder you’re single.”

He stops momentarily in the middle of the street with his hand on the gearshift, waiting to push it into drive. “What?”

“I said you’re such a charmer.”

He scowls at me. His pissed off face is growing on me. I grin back. With one swift jerk of his hand, the truck is in gear and we zoom down the back street. I fumble to find my seatbelt. My hands tremble as I click it into place.

We are already on the road leading out of town when I look back out the window, watching the lights from downtown fade out of sight. His eyes are fixated on the road, his fingers running along the side of the steering wheel like he’s in a hurry.

“Where are we going?” I ask, this time in a whisper, avoiding eye contact.

I know it’s silly, because we just left a room full of witnesses, but I can’t stop picturing myself being thrown into a swamp full of snapping alligators like I’m Indiana Jones on my last crusade.

“You wanted this.” Attention straight on the road, he refuses to look at me. “So we’ve got some things to straighten out.”

It’s vague, but at least it’s an answer. However, I doubt he’d actually tell me if he planned to feed me to alligators. That would probably be counterproductive to his mission.

I lean back in my seat and breathe, assuring myself that just because he wants me to leave town doesn’t mean he wants me dead. I become slightly less panicked when we pull into the driveway leading down to my house. The sound of the gravel is noisy as we skid into place just behind the trailer. He jumps out of the truck before I even notice he cut off the ignition. I scurry out, following him up the walk. He fumbles with his key in the lock.

“Hey!” I peek over his shoulder and scowl. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“Why?” He glares back, pushing the door open. “You’ve got a flashlight in your purse?”

I stomp in behind him. “You can’t just come in anytime you feel like it. I appreciate you taking care of the house, but it’s mine now.”

He stops in the middle of the room, and I stumble into his back. He turns around slowly, looking down at me. The house is dark; only the light of the moon shines through the windows, highlighting his face. He’s close. He could touch me if he wanted. It would make sense. His palm under my elbow, or his fingers against my waist.

Except he doesn’t.

“Fiona gave me this key when I was ten years old,” he whispers in the small space between us. “Everyone in our family has a key to this house.”

I want to snap back at him, but I don’t know if I’m actually mad about the key or something else. I take a step back, and this time I look away. “I don’t know how families work.”

I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I’ve been an orphan for the better part of my life. I still can’t look him in the eye.

He points behind me. “There is a blue cookie jar on the top shelf of your cabinet.”

I follow his finger to the kitchen cabinets and then turn back to him. “Go look in it.”

I walk by him, dodging boxes along the way until I open the cabinet doors. In the very last one I see a chipped blue jar stuck in the back corner. I climb up on the counter to reach it. I grab it, sitting down so I can hold it more securely. I glance at Reid, standing at the counter’s edge watching me, before I stick my hand inside. My fingers hit metal, and I can tell by the jingling sound it makes that the jar is full of keys. “Mine is the one with the giant R painted on it.” He crosses his arms. “Feel free to break in anytime.”

I clamp the lid shut. “You don’t mean that.”

He shrugs. “You’re right, I don’t. But I’m keeping my key.”

“Fine.” I jump off the counter. “Keep your stupid key. However, I can’t be held responsible for any bodily harm I cause you when you use it against my will.”

He rolls his eyes. “You caught me off guard.”

“That’s the excuse I’d use too.”

He exhales noisily, turning his attention across the room. He winds his way around some boxes until he stands before the large wooden cabinet in the corner. I know I have no right, but I suddenly feel possessive of it. I don’t want him to touch it. I especially don’t want him touching my letter that remains taped to the front door. I bite back the urge to order him away from it.

He runs his hands along the outside, searching for the handles, but it’s hard to see with such dim lighting. I spot my flashlight on the far edge of the counter and grab it. I use it to tap his shoulder, offering it to him. I snort out loud when he flinches.

He snatches it out of my hand, then turns it on and quickly finds the handles. He pulls the double doors open, revealing three long rows of tiny drawers, each marked with a different engraving. I squint through the darkness as he grazes his fingers over the drawers, apparently looking for something in particular. He stops at a drawer in the lower left corner that has a circle carved in the middle with a star in the right corner. Inside are small glass vials that clink together at the movement. He grabs one, shutting the drawer as quickly as he opened it.

He spins around to face me, and for the first time, he looks uncertain of himself. “Do you trust me?” He shoves his hair out of his eyes.

“No.” Though harsh, my voice is also a little sad. It’s the truth, though. It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. It is the bleak reality of my life.

“Can you pretend like you do for about thirty minutes?”

I want to trust him. I want to think he only has my best interest at heart. Under normal circumstances, a person might be convinced based solely on the fact that I am considered a part of his family. However, I found out the hard way that family doesn’t always love you back.

I point at the vial. “Does it have something to do with that?”

He grips it tightly before displaying it to me in his palm. The clear glass is filled with a pale blue liquid that swooshes back and forth from the sudden movement. “I need you to drink it.” He throws his hand out like it’s no big deal.

I scoff loudly to show him the ridiculousness of his request.

“I know.”

“Yeah.” I bend down and scrunch my nose at the vial. “So why don’t you drink it? Then we’ll talk.”

“We don’t have time for that.” He moves closer to the door and looks outside. “The moon could disappear any second.”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the heck the moon has to do with any of this. He holds his hand out toward me. I reflexively jump back like the vial might bite me. “Drink it,” he says hastily. “If you want answers, you have to drink it.”

I look at the liquid one last time, eyeing its blue color and fizzing bubbles. Witnesses, I remind myself. If he poisons me, I have an entire restaurant full of witnesses. I give him one last warning glare before retrieving the vial from his hand. “If I die,” I begin, unscrewing the top, “I’m going to haunt you. I’ll be your worst Freddy freaking nightmare.”

He nods. “I have no doubt.”

I close my eyes slowly, imagining it’s Thursday night at Proud Larry’s, Ace just announced last call, and it’s time to man up. I throw back the vial, downing the liquid in one quick shot, just like old times. I stick out my tongue, gagging at the bitter taste.

“You get used to it,” he says with a satisfied smile. “Or at least that’s what they tell me.”

I groan. “What was that?”

“You’ll see.” He grabs my arm. “Let’s get you in the moonlight.”

He drags me through the kitchen and out the back door. We are already standing in the yard when the screen door slaps shut behind us. He looks up at the sky, cursing loudly. “Clouds.” He mutters something else under his breath as he studies the sky. “We have to wait for them to pass.”

He pulls me across the yard, still looking up at the sky, positioning me as if I’m a lawn ornament. Maybe he’d be pleased if I pose like a flamingo.

After pulling me back and forth, he finally settles on a spot next to some high grass. I cringe away from it. I think I might actually prefer the alligators.

“Just stay put.”

I shoot him a look, but he only rolls his eyes.

“What is going to happen?” I intentionally step away from the grass.

He looks cautiously behind me. “We’re just waiting on the alligators.”

I whip around in a panic to the sound of his muffled laugh.

“That’s not funny. And how do you know I’m scared of alligators?”

“You speak your thoughts out loud when you’re nervous.” He attempts to hide his amusement as he smiles at the ground. I feel oddly proud, making him smile. It seems like such a hard task to accomplish. “Besides, everyone is scared of alligators. They’re basically giant frogs with teeth.”

I shudder. “Ugh. Frogs.”

He rubs his temple like he has a headache. “Abby is going to freaking love you.”

I start to ask him if that means I’m allowed to actually meet Abby, but his attention diverts back to the sky, where the clouds begin to part. Whatever we are waiting for is about to happen.

I suck in a breath, prepared for impact. The clouds scatter. The light of the moon sneaks through the corner, revealing itself inch by inch. I grit my teeth as the last puff glides past. I close my eyes, expecting something to change, maybe a sensation or some kind of involuntary movement, but nothing happens.

I open my eyes to inquire about what I should expect when I notice the faint green light. I swallow my breath. My entire body emits a green light, like I’m radioactive. I hold my hand out in front of my face and turn it back and forth, watching the light wave at me. I look through the haze to gape at Reid.

“What is happening to me?” I turn around in circles to showcase the glow.

“You are one of them.”

“What?” I can’t comprehend the expressionless look on his face as he stares across the field at me. Why did he act so shocked? Didn’t he expect this to happen? “What is this? What did you do to me?”

He walks a few steps closer, his face falling with each step. He’s sad. Possibly devastated. “I didn’t do anything to you. This is who you are.”

“What? A glow stick?” I wave my hand in circles. “Because if this is what I’ve been waiting twenty-two years to find out, I’m going to be pissed.”

He shakes his head, annoyance running thick on his face. “An Innocent. You’re one of the Innocent.”

My arms fall limply at my side. I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, some quite horrible, but never an Innocent.

Suddenly, I don’t know how to make myself speak. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I close it, hoping if I start over, I’ll manage to make it work, but no such luck. I’m speechless. Reid walks toward me, his face still sad. I hate how I always seem to have that effect on him.

“Wilhelmina,” he says softly, running his hands through his hair. “Our lives here are complicated. Thanks to that stunt you pulled at the diner, I have no choice but to go home and tell them you’re here. Everyone will know you’re here now.”

He stops for a second, grimacing at the thought. “But you,” he struggles to get the words out, “you still have a choice in this. You can leave. You can leave here and go live a normal life.”

I scoff loudly. Does he honestly think he can turn me green, call me a funny name, and then send me on my way to live happily ever after?

“Normal?” I repeat with a cruel laugh. “You think that is what I’ve been doing this whole time? I’ve just been out there all happy-go–lucky, living life?”

He doesn’t speak, but then again, I don’t give him a chance. The thought infuriates me.

“You just called me an Innocent. What does that mean? Because I’ve been wondering my whole life what makes me such a freak that my own father was too scared to love me!”