by Lizzy Prince
“Hmpf,” Munro replied, his lips turned down in a considering frown. “Maybe.”
“Okay then. Let’s go give it a try.” I huffed.
Munro followed my directions to get to Hattie’s office, pulling into the empty parking lot. He took in the strip mall with a look of skepticism on his face.
“This doesn’t seem very private. If we can actually get the door open, we’ll probably end up getting arrested.”
I shoved his shoulder, trying to get him moving out of the truck. “We’ll never know until we try, will we? Come on. Let’s go.”
Standing in front of the office door I’d walked through so many times over the past two years, I felt an irrational stab of anger at the building, at the door with its generic metal frame and convenience store-looking front door. I was mad that I’d been duped all that time and had trusted Hattie with my fears and troubles. The thought of her deception and the invasion of my private thoughts made me sick to my stomach. Shoving all those thoughts aside, I tried to focus on Munro who was staring at the door looking annoyed.
“Do you think you can open it?” I asked as he lifted his arm and pulled at the handle. A squeak of surprise slipped from my throat when the door opened.
“Holy cow! You did it.” I said in a whispered shout, and I fought the urge to give him a high-five that was probably a little inappropriate considering the situation.
Munro grunted and held the door open for me. “Not really. It was already unlocked.”
I hurried inside, not wanting anyone to catch us poking around, and Munro slipped in quietly behind me, locking the door after we were both inside. We stood inside the small lobby with tattered waiting room chairs and blank, white walls. Munro turned in a circle to take in the space. He didn’t comment on what he saw, but I could tell he was surprised by the spartan nature of the furnishing.
He turned back around to look at me. “Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s go into her office. See if there’s anything in there,” I said, pointing to the closed office door.
“What are you hoping to find?” Munro asked as he opened the door and headed into the room, flipping on the light as he entered.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s like porn, I’ll know it when I see it.”
Munro made a choking noise, and I turned around to find his face red, and I momentarily worried that he was actually choking until he barked out a loud laugh. His entire face lit up, and his gray eyes sparkled with mischief. He looked so carefree in that moment and so damned handsome it took my breath away.
“Annie, you kill me,” he finally said, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath and blowing it out loudly. “Got it, looking for porn-like materials.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned, moving over to Hattie’s desk to explore the contents there.
“Go check out the filing cabinet. See if there’s anything useful in there.” I pointed my finger in the direction of a tall industrial cabinet in the corner.
While Munro starting sifting through the documents in the cabinet, I began my search in the middle drawer of her desk. It was essentially a junk drawer with pens, pencils, post-its, paperclips and other assorted office items. For someone who was always so tidy, the mess of this drawer surprised me. Although why I should be surprised by anything related to Hattie at this point was beyond me. I obviously had no insight into the workings of her mind because I’d been fooled by her for years.
Feeling the heat of anger build up inside me, I slammed the drawer a bit harder than necessary and moved on to the side drawers. There were hanging files in these drawers, and I flipped through them seeing patient names neatly labeled on the top of each. Sorting through the row, I searched until I reached the Q’s and found my file. It didn’t include the notebooks Hattie had kept notes in, but there were some hand-scrawled notes included in the file. My eyes skimmed over the words, and my jaw dropped as I read through them.
They were the crazed words of a lunatic. Hattie had written things like, Caroline’s daughter over and over, underlined with thick scratches of pen. She dreams about me was circled as if her pen had been stuck on a loop until she’d torn a hole in the paper. Single words littered the pages, things like retribution, deserved, pain, revenge, payment, that showed just how much she believed I owed her something for the pain she’d brought on herself.
There were no actual medical notes, although I’m not sure why I thought there would be. The whole folder was like that and only contained a few sheets of paper. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t found her notebooks first. I wasn’t sure I’d want to read what she’d written in those.
I looked over at Munro who’d stopped his search of the filing cabinet. “Did you find something?”
Munro cleared his throat and looked up, his face a study in conflicting feelings. “Kind of.”
Abandoning my folder on the desk, I moved to his side and found him holding a weathered photograph of an obviously younger Hattie and a handsome man that looked hauntingly like Munro. In the photo, he had his arm around Hattie and they were both beaming at the camera, happiness practically leaping off the faded paper.
“Is that your dad?” I asked quietly, feeling the somber mood move over both of us.
“Yeah,” was all Munro said in response.
I looked around the sad example of an office and shook my head. I don’t know what I was hoping to find here, answers of some kind? But they weren’t here. This was just another example of how desperate Hattie had become and the lengths she’d gone to. All in order to steal my magic. And for what? Some misguided need for revenge? Is that what this was all about? Even after talking to Hattie I still didn’t understand why she was doing all this. Greed? Addiction to the magic? Revenge? All of the above?
“You know what, this was a bad idea. There’s nothing here. Let’s go.” I wanted to reach out and touch Munro because I could sense the turmoil roiling inside him. But I didn’t. I stayed just out of reach because I wasn’t sure I could stop myself from trying to comfort him with my touch if I got any closer.
Munro nodded, put the photo back in the drawer and closed it with a gentle click. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
Once we were back in the truck, we both let out a relieved breath. Not that there had been any kind of peril in Hattie’s office, but the thought that we could have been caught or would have found something awful in her office had been hovering like a specter the entire time we’d been in there. Now, as we drove through the city sitting quietly in the truck, I felt the need to talk about what had happened earlier in the night.
“Can we find somewhere to pull over and talk?” I finally spoke, my voice sounding jarring after the silence that had blanketed us for the past few minutes.
Munro drove us down a few side streets until we ended up at the end of Rush street at a small park that sat on a bluff overlooking the entire city. He parked the truck against the guard rail so the twinkling lights of the city below us winked and sparkled like fairy dust. It would have been romantic and magical if we’d been there for some other reason. But I wanted to tell him what I’d learned earlier in the night from Hattie.
Ryan and Munro both needed to hear what I’d found out, but I’d let Munro fill his uncle in on the details. When I’d asked them about Hattie, they’d had so little information about why she’d done such horrible things. If nothing else, I could give him the small solace of knowledge.
I opened my mouth to tell him about what had happened in the den, but instead, a question popped out. “Do you remember your mom? I mean, before all of this.”
Munro took his hands from the steering wheel and shoved them into his coat pockets. I’d been spending most of my time avoiding looking directly at him but now I let my eyes trace over his handsome face. And though it was dark in the truck I could still make out his features, and I was struck by how tired he looked. And defeated. It was that emotion that knocked the wind out of me. Munro was strong and unflappable, but the events of recent days had tak
en their toll on him, perhaps even more than anyone else.
When the silence stretched, I wondered if I’d overstepped and shouldn’t have asked a question about his mom. But then he spoke, his voice sounding as weary as he looked.
“Not at all. I was two when she left. I don’t have the even the smallest memory of her.”
I wanted to lean into him, to wrap my arms around him, but I’d erected so many barriers between us that I didn’t know how to begin breaking them down.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing how else to show that his hurt made me ache.
Munro shifted in his seat slightly so that he could look at me and a small jolt of awareness spiked through my body.
“No, I’m sorry, Annie. I should have told you from the beginning that Hattie was my mother.” He sounded gutted just getting the words out.
“I get it.” I turned in my own seat, facing him, though I hadn’t bothered unbuckling my seatbelt. “You were kind of damned if you do, damned if you don’t with the whole scenario.”
Munro snorted out the barest hint of a laugh, and a phantom smile almost touched his lips.
“I need to tell you what she said to me tonight,” I said, and any hint of levity fled. I repeated as much of the conversation as I could remember, even emphasizing how much I thought Hattie may have cared for his father.
“You don’t have to try to defend her or make excuses for her Annie. What’s she’s done has been horrific and unforgiveable.” His words came out with an angry snap.
I pressed my lips together and waited for him to calm down a bit before responding, “I’m not offering atonement for her wrongs, I’m just telling you what I heard in that room.”
He rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to wake himself up or maybe brush off a layer of guilt and frustration from his skin. His hand dropped next to mine on the seat, and I gave in to the desire to touch him, sliding my hand into his. His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and his lips parted as though he was about to speak, but he didn’t. If he had, I might not have noticed that the spark that was always there when we touched was still dimmed. I frowned and thought back to the last time it had felt right and couldn’t recall any time since the warehouse.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice gently lilting and concerned.
“I just noticed… or realized…” I fumbled over the words, as something that had bothered me before came to the front of my mind.
I’d realized that when I touched Butch or Mari, I didn’t have the same feeling as when I touched Munro. That spark that always accompanied his touch was for him alone. The realization had been floating around in my mind for the last few days, but it just now resounded as fact when I’d touched him. He’d told me months ago that it was what happened when two witches touched.
“The spark, er… electricity.” I shook my head like I could jar my thoughts together to make sense. “I don’t feel that with anyone else.”
Munro looked uneasy and he closed his eyes for a moment before grimacing and opening them back up.
“I sort of forgot I told you that.” He sounded like a little kid who knew he was going to get reprimanded for doing something after he’d been told not to for the thousandth time. “I’m sorry, I truly did forget.”
Brushing over his apology, I probed further about the electricity. “What is it? Why do I feel it every time we touch? You do too, right?” I asked, my eyes darting over to his with sudden worry.
Munro nodded. “I do. And I don’t know.”
I made a disbelieving sound and rolled my eyes.
“No really. I honestly don’t know.” Munro held my hand tighter, willing me to look at him. His eyes were sincere, and they were begging me to believe him.
“It’s kind of like my rune,” he said, lifting our hands slightly to show it to me as if I’d forgotten what it looked like. “I don’t know why you can see my mark when I’ve cloaked it, and I don’t know why we have this, spark, whenever we touch.” His last words came out low and hoarse.
“Have you ever felt it with anyone else?” I asked quietly, not sure I wanted to know the answer. Especially if he was about to tell me that he and Lola set off sparks when they touched. I might punch him if he did.
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “No, never.”
“It’s been different though, since the warehouse,” I choked out the words, hating to bring up that night. “It’s duller than before.” I had to fight the sudden urge to cry, and I took a deep breath, wondering at the burst of emotion that admission had me feeling.
Munro’s thumb softly caressed the top of my hand in a small show of comfort. “It’s not gone. You’ve buried your magic so deep inside of you that it’s no longer reacting with mine.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. Well, I guess that answered that.
“Yeah,” he said with a soft chuckle.
Since I was on a roll with the questions, I kept going. “When you kept leaving to go visit Butch and Lola, what were you looking for?”
Please don’t say Lola’s boobs, I silently prayed.
“Butch has a ridiculously large collection of magical texts and druidic history. When you were able to use all four elements without having a full lesson, we wanted to see if we could find anything in our history that was similar.”
“You guys may have mentioned once or twice that it wasn’t typical.”
My sarcasm was not subtle, and I was rewarded with a sheepish smile. Still, I could see a glint of good humor in Munro’s gray eyes. He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand in a soothing motion, and I wondered if he even realized he was doing it. It was mesmerizing, and if I wasn’t careful he’d be putting me to sleep.
“I’m not sure there’s anything about you that’s typical, Annie.” Munro’s gray eyes were intense as he spoke, but his tone was soft as he peered over at me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away even with the blush creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks.
“That’s me. Atypical Annie,” I made the self-deprecating comment to try to lighten the moment, but Munro only squeezed my fingers a little tighter as if he disagreed with me.
“Did you ever find anything?” I murmured, remembering that we’d been talking about his trips to see Butch.
Munro exhaled a heavy breath and leaned back against his seat, keeping my hand in his.
“All we found were a bunch of references to the sisters and some prophecy that goes with their legend.”
All of the blood that had been flushing my cheeks dropped down to my stomach, and I felt an involuntary shiver snake up my spine. “What kind of prophecy?”
Munro shook his head as he looked at me. “It’s not something to be concerned about. It was a bunch of nonsense about rebirth and retribution.”
I looked out over the twinkling lights that lay like a glittering blanket beneath us. From where we were parked, in the dark, the beckoning abyss made it feel like you could step out into nothingness and float away. The city looked so peaceful from this vantage point, but inside each house, there was movement and life happening. In any of those houses, someone could be crying or laughing, falling in love or breaking apart. It really hammered home the idea that people shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
“I’ve been dreaming about you.” I was nervous saying those words in the confined space of the truck.
Munro shifted, the fabric of his jeans shushing against the seat as he moved, making me feel like my hearing was ultra-sensitive.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, and I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. I almost hated to dash his hopes.
“Sorry, buddy. It wasn't that kind of dream.” I sighed, wishing it had been.
I could feel his eyes on me and looked up to find him studying me, looking serious once again.
“I’ve been having nightmares about the night my parents died for the last few years. Right after we met, they started changing. In my dreams, I wake up on my front lawn and you were there.”
Munro was so stil
l I wondered if he was holding his breath. I cleared my throat, finding it hard to share what happened next in the dream.
“You were touching my face. And at first, it was gentle.”
Munro’s hand twitched in mine, and I could feel him tense as he waited for me to continue.
“Then you started to suck the life out of me.” I swallowed, remembering the hollow ache and terror the dream always left behind, even after I woke.
“Annie.” Munro’s voice was barely a whisper and filled with sadness. “I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”
I felt the emotion in his words, and my throat tightened. I worried I might start crying if I let the lilting tone of his voice melt the icy wall around my heart.
“I know. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. And, it’s not like you should feel bad, it didn’t really happen. It was just a dream.”
Munro’s eyes lowered and his face was pensive as he absorbed my words.
“In the dream, it was like you couldn't control your actions. Like someone else was forcing you to hurt me. With everything that happened after that, at the warehouse, I just wondered if I’d somehow known, subconsciously,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
Munro turned to face forward again, looking back out over the city, thinking a moment before he spoke. “Some witches have been known to have prophetic dreams. But it’s rare, and I know of no one who has that kind of magic in this day and age.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw and then sounded a humorless chuckle. “But then, I suppose if someone were to have that unusual talent, it would be you.” He crooked his head and gave me a small smile and a shake of his head.
“That’s a lot of prophecies and prophetic stuff that’s been dropped into our conversation tonight. I want to hear more about the prophecy.”
Munro exhaled heavily and started his truck. “You’re probably right. Let’s head back. Butch knows the most, so he can explain what he’s found.”
Munro moved his hand to shift the truck into reverse, but I stopped him, touching the back of his hand with my fingertips. A faint spark of electricity charged between us, and I almost cried with relief. Not wanting to admit how much I’d missed that connection. The strangled groan that escaped Munro’s throat told me he felt the same.