Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I was trying to figure out a way to help her – perhaps crack a lamp over his head or something if I could find the strength to lift it – but she cranked open a canister of ghoul-be-gone and he was through the window before I could even blink,” she continued. “The spell was so powerful it actually screamed.”

  That couldn’t be right. “I didn’t do that.”

  “You most certainly did.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did, too.”

  There was only so much I could take in one night. “I did not!” I practically exploded as I slammed my hand on the tabletop, a puff of smoke sneaking out from between my fingers.

  “Okay, you need to calm down.” Galen put his hand on my shoulder and slid a fresh mug of tea in front of me. “You’re in shock and freaking out. I get it, but you’re not helping matters by flying off the handle.”

  “Yes, because believing that I created wind out of nowhere is a much better way to go,” I deadpanned.

  “You’ve got a snarky mouth,” May noted. “You get that from my side of the family.”

  I flashed her a sarcastic thumbs-up before sipping my tea.

  “I had a feeling she used magic,” Galen admitted, his eyes never leaving my face. “She didn’t understand what was happening, but I heard the scream. It sounded like her.”

  “It was her soul reacting out of terror to protect herself,” May explained. “She didn’t do it consciously. Now that she knows she can do it, though … .”

  “Then I’ll never do it again,” I snapped. “I don’t believe you anyway. I did not do that!”

  “You’ve had a long day.” Galen kept his hand on my shoulder, the warm and comforting feeling serving to lull me. “Drink your tea, please.”

  For lack of anything better to do, I did as he asked, gulping down the entirety of the cup even though it scalded my throat. When I was finished, I flashed an obnoxious smile. “Happy?”

  Galen took me by surprise when he pushed a hank of my out-of-control hair out of my face. “No, but you need to rest.”

  “I’m never going to sleep again. Bad things happen when I sleep.”

  “You’re going to sleep now,” Galen corrected, his eyes troubled. “You can’t stop it from happening.”

  What the heck was he even saying? “I am not … .” I barely got three words out before I realized I was tilting to the side and slurring. “What’s happening?”

  “What did you dose her with?” May asked, curious.

  “One of your sleeping draughts,” Galen replied, slinging an arm around my waist as I tried to stand. He caught me before I careened to the floor. “I saw it when I made the tea. I thought it might be a good idea, because she’s severely sleep deprived and the only way any of this is going to make sense to her is if she calms herself.”

  “You’re the sheriff,” I muttered, poking my finger into his cheek. “It’s illegal to drug somebody. You’re going to have to arrest yourself.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” Galen swung me up into his arms as my head lolled back and I stared blankly at the ceiling.

  “What’s going on here?” Booker asked, appearing at the bottom of the steps. “Are you going caveman or something?”

  “He drugged her,” May supplied.

  “Oh, there’s my favorite ghost who used to be a witch!” Booker beamed as he mimed high-fiving May. “I heard you were back. I’m excited to catch up with you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Yes, we’re all excited about catching up,” Galen said. “Is the upstairs window fixed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m going to put Sleeping Beauty to bed. We have some things to discuss.”

  “You can’t discuss things without me.” My words sounded like gibberish, as if I was uttering them out of order. “This is my life.”

  “Shh.” Galen moved toward the stairs. “I’ll fill you in on everything over breakfast. I promise that you’ll be okay tonight. I won’t let anything in this house.”

  Oh, well, that was convincing. “I’m going to make you pay.”

  “I have no idea what you just said, but … okay.” Galen’s smile was bright as he flicked his eyes to mine. “It’s okay to sleep. This will all be here in the morning.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but for the first time since finding out the awful truth I hoped this wasn’t all a dream. I couldn’t kick Galen where it hurt if this was a dream … and he had it coming.

  Most definitely.

  That was my last thought before the darkness overcame me.

  Thirteen

  I woke to a fuzzy head and eyes that felt as if they were crusted together. I was certain I had a hangover and yet I couldn’t remember drinking anything. Surprisingly enough, that wasn’t the worst part of my morning, though.

  I rolled to my side when I felt a warm presence at my left, widening my eyes to what I’m sure must’ve been comical proportions as I let them roam over Galen’s naked chest. He was in the bed with me, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling in rhythmic fashion. The sheets were bunched around his waist, making me wonder if he wore anything south of the border.

  I blinked rapidly, trying to cast off the remnants of a heavy sleep as I rolled the events of the previous evening through my head. Something had happened. Something bad, in fact. What, though? I couldn’t quite remember.

  I was inundated with flashes, bits and pieces of things that made no sense. I remembered Galen screaming my name. I remembered Booker showing up with plywood and saying … something. I remembered a ghost in the kitchen. Wow. There’s something I never thought I would be able to say.

  I couldn’t remember the big things, though. Maybe that was on purpose.

  For lack of anything better to do, I lifted the sheets and let loose a relieved sigh when I realized I was still wearing my pajamas. If something had happened, it couldn’t have been too bad – or vigorous – because I still had my panties on. That was the most important thing.

  Right?

  Wait, shouldn’t I be figuring out why there was a half-naked man in my bed?

  As if on cue, Galen shifted, slowly opening his eyes and focusing on me. He didn’t look surprised to be in my bed, but his eyes were dogged by shadows that made me wonder if he’d gotten any sleep at all.

  “I can hear your mind working from here,” Galen said, his voice gravelly. “Are you about to freak out?”

  That was a very good question. I dragged my hand through my hair as a distraction, frowning when my fingers got caught in a bevy of snarls. Crap! I probably had the bedhead to end all bedhead. I vaguely remembered taking a bath and going to sleep with wet hair. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  Galen smirked as he stretched, lifting his arms and flexing one of the most ridiculously cut chests I’d ever seen in real life. Seriously, he looked like a model … or a fitness trainer. It made me want to punch him. It also kind of made me want to drool, which made me want to punch him again.

  “How are you feeling?” Galen asked, sobering. “You had a rough night. If you’re going to delay your freak-out, we should get the technicalities out of the way.”

  “Oh, that’s just what a girl wants to hear when she wakes up in a bed with a strange man,” I drawled, annoyance getting the better of me.

  “I’m not a stranger, and given the circumstances I thought it was best you didn’t stay alone.”

  Circumstances? What circumstances? My memory refused to cooperate. “There’s a couch on the main floor.”

  “Yes, and as much as I like Booker, there’s no way I would share the couch with him.” Galen’s grin was lazy. “I don’t roll that way.”

  Oh, well, that was a relief. Wait … Booker? “Why is Booker here?”

  “How much do you remember?”

  “Enough to know that I probably have bedhead so bad that I’ll want to hide my face under the pillows the entire day.”

  “So … nothing?”

  I opened my mouth to argue and then snappe
d it shut. “Pretty much,” I conceded after a beat. “My mind is full of a bunch of flashes, but … they don’t make sense. Why is Booker here?”

  “Because we needed to cover up your window and door before going to sleep.” Galen was matter-of-fact. “I didn’t think you would want us to leave you with gaping holes in both.”

  What the … ? “I don’t understand.” My voice was unnaturally squeaky, as if I sensed the conversation was about to take a turn I couldn’t quite grasp. It wasn’t something I wanted and yet I couldn’t quite ignore it either.

  “Hadley, I think you’re blocking things out.” Galen appeared to have infinite patience, but I could hear the annoyance rippling under the surface. “You need to knock that off. We have quite a few things to talk about.”

  “Like why you’re in my bed?”

  “I already told you why I’m in your bed. Booker slept on the couch to watch the main floor and the only other place to sleep in this entire lighthouse was this bed. I’m too old to sleep on the floor.”

  He seemed so pragmatic, calm. He acted as if I was off base. I wanted to slap him for it. “I still don’t understand.”

  “And now you’re doing it on purpose.” Galen patted my leg as he sat, lifting his arms over his head and stretching again before sliding out of bed. I was relieved to see he wore boxer shorts – although they had lipstick-covered lips on them – and he barely looked in my direction as he shimmied into the shorts and shirt he’d discarded sometime in the night. “I think you should take a shower. That will probably clear your head. While you’re doing that, I’ll talk with Booker and get breakfast going.”

  That’s it? He thought I’d accept that. He thought … wait, a shower did sound pretty good. It would solve the bedhead problem. “And you’ll be in the kitchen when I come down?”

  “I will,” Galen said as he buckled his belt. “I don’t think you’ll be able to focus as long as you’re worried about your hair.”

  Crap. How could he possibly know that? “I hardly think my hair is cause for concern.” I put on an air of haughtiness. “If you’re that shallow … .”

  “Yeah, say that again with a straight face after your shower,” Galen ordered. “I’m guessing you’ll start remembering last night – and very soon – and I don’t want you to say anything that you’ll want to take back.”

  “I never say anything that I want to take back.”

  Galen snorted. “Typical woman. I’ll meet you downstairs. Try not to take too long. I have a full day and we have a lot to talk about.”

  And just like that, the uninvited guest I woke up next to in my bed was through the door and heading for the main floor, his demeanor calm, as if he didn’t have a care in the world even though his eyes and words said otherwise.

  What in the holy heck happened here last night?

  GALEN AND BOOKER stood next to the stove, their heads bent together when I descended the stairs. They shifted in my direction at the same time, guilt flitting through their eyes before they masked it and pasted bright smiles on their faces. I wasn’t going to fall for that.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing is going on,” Booker automatically answered. “I picked up eggs, hash browns, bacon and bread so we can have a proper breakfast. I was merely filling Galen in on some of the town gossip that I managed to glean while out.”

  “Uh-huh.” He was a terrible liar. “What gossip?”

  “Well, Deenie Watkins is pregnant with her sixth child and her soon-to-be-ex-husband swears she used magic because he never wanted to have sex with her after the fifth child, but he did one night and now he’s on the hook for even more child support. He’s not a happy camper.”

  Maybe I was wrong about him being a terrible liar. That was a pretty intricate story, and he delivered it in a way that made me think it was potentially true. “She should kick him in the nuts so he can never have another child and see if that makes him feel better.”

  “I’ll share that suggestion next time I see her.” Booker winked as he moved to the front door, which was missing from its mangled hinges. “I picked up a new door and am painting it to match the old one. The paint is drying right now, so I should have it back on the hinges before lunch.”

  “That’s great.” I honestly meant it. “I’m still not going to fall for that Deenie lie. You might’ve thought of it really quickly, but I know you guys were talking about something. I want to know what it is.”

  Galen pressed the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth as he doled hash browns onto three different plates. He was clearly conflicted.

  “Tell me.”

  “I think we’re going to have to tell her, bro,” Booker said, grinning as he slathered butter on toast. Together they resembled a lean, mean, breakfast-cooking machine, but I couldn’t quite shake the fact that something terrible was about to happen.

  “You definitely need to tell me,” I pressed. “I’ve been lied to more than enough for one lifetime.”

  “I didn’t lie to you,” Galen protested. “I just thought you needed more time to hear the truth. There’s a difference.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Not in my book.”

  “Fine.” Galen shook his head as he flipped eggs. He looked ridiculously hot in front of the stove, an apron covering his shirt and shorts, but I didn’t care even a little. Okay, I cared a little. That was hardly the most important thing to focus on this morning. “How much do you remember about last night?”

  I didn’t expect him to go in that direction, but if it meant hearing the truth I was willing to play the game. “I remember it all.”

  Booker snorted. “She’s lying. She doesn’t remember anything.”

  I’d show him. “I remember waking up to find someone in my room. I remember crawling out of bed and thinking I was going to die. I remember that whoever it was disappeared and then Galen showed up.”

  “That’s a good start,” Galen said. “What do you remember besides that?”

  “I … .” I broke off and chewed my bottom lip. “It’s difficult.”

  “Let me help you out,” Booker suggested. “You used your witchy powers and blew a guy through the window, bounced him along the ground a bit before he fled into the night, and then your dead grandmother showed up to tell you what you did.

  “You melted down because apparently you’re prone to it,” he continued. “I wouldn’t worry about that, by the way, because it’s a chick thing. You can’t help yourself. It’s in your DNA.”

  “Booker.” Galen growled out a warning, his eyes flashing.

  Booker ignored him. “You’re right. I didn’t learn about Deenie while I was in town. I learned about that yesterday. I’ve been dying to tell someone.”

  My mouth was dry, but I managed to speak. “I can see that.” Now that he’d mentioned everything that happened it came rushing back. How could I have forgotten?

  “Hadley, are you okay?” Galen’s eyes filled with concern.

  I ignored him. “What did you really find out while you were in town?”

  Booker didn’t risk a glance in Galen’s direction, instead increasing the distance between them while pinning me with his gaze. “Mark Santiago was found dead this morning.”

  The name meant nothing to me. “Why is that important?”

  “Because he was wearing all black when the island’s refuse department found him curled up in a ditch three blocks from here. They called Galen’s office to tell him, but he wasn’t there. He was obviously here.”

  “So … just because he was wearing black you think it’s the same guy who was in my house last night?” In theory, that might make sense, but there were gaping holes in the logic. “Do you think he was working for someone and that person killed him and dumped him in the ditch?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s what happened.” Booker was grim. “Ted Ferguson said Mark looked as if he’d been run over with a truck. He was a walking bruise before he died.”

  “I don’t … understand.
”

  Galen decided now was the time to take over the conversation. He removed the egg pan from the burner and wiped his hands with a towel as he approached. “He’s saying that it looks like Mark had the same sort of injuries that one would get from a fall.”

  “I see.” I did. I saw. They were saying I killed Mark Santiago. I used my newfound magic – which I still didn’t believe existed – to blow him through a window and bounce him off the ground. “How did he end up in the ditch if I killed him?”

  “Honey, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way,” Galen cautioned.

  I ignored him and focused on Booker. He was more likely to tell me the truth, no matter how hard it was to stomach. “How?”

  “It’s not uncommon,” Booker replied. “He would’ve been running on adrenalin when he hit the ground. That’s how he managed to get up and run. Once he calmed a bit, he probably realized that his injuries were catastrophic.

  “He was probably bleeding internally, but his energy was high due to the escape,” he continued. “Once he slowed down, well, it was too late. He succumbed.”

  I felt numb, my mind and stomach empty. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react to the news. “Do you think it hurt?”

  Booker shrugged. “No less than he deserved.”

  Galen elbowed him, delivering a sharp blow to the ribs before shuffling closer to me. “It’s not your fault. While I don’t agree with Booker’s more colorful enhancements, I do agree that Mark deserved what happened to him.”

  “Because he broke into my house?”

  “Because he went after you with an ax.”

  “Hmm.” I rubbed my hand over my cheek, struggling to keep my mind in the here and now rather than what might’ve been if I’d acted differently the night before. “So I’m officially a murderer. I guess that means you have to take me in.”

  Galen’s expression twisted and he scalded Booker with a dark look. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell her.”