The Witch's Familiars: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Harem of Babylon Book 1)

by G. A. Rael

  Darren reached out and when he pulled her into his arms, Jordan was too shocked to pull away. When he held her close and whispered some word of comfort she couldn't make out over her own crying, she broke down completely.

  She had expected him to call her crazy, or even worse, to believe every word she said and push her away like he would have done if he had any common sense. She had never even let herself entertain the idea of a long-term relationship, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. Or worse, before she hurt someone. The fact that he knew and he was still here wasn’t something she had ever dared to expect, and she didn’t know what to do now that it was happening.

  He held her like that for a length of time she couldn't even begin to quantify. It could have just as easily been a few minutes as a few hours. The words didn't matter, though. He wasn't running from her in disgust. She knew there was a good chance that he simply didn't believe any of it, but it didn't matter. Not for the moment.

  When Jordan finally collected herself, she felt as raw as she had while telling her story. She wasn’t used to being open with anyone, let alone breaking down.

  "How did you get out?" he finally asked, breaking the silence between them without letting go.

  "I don't know," she admitted. "Months of captivity turned into years and I opened the door on a whim. I don't even know why. I hadn't tried to leave in so long, maybe it had been open for a long time and I just didn't realize it, but something took over me and I ran. It was like a voice in my head telling me to get out, and I couldn't hear or think of anything else. I didn't even know where I was going, but I got out of the house and I just kept running. A police officer found me by the side of the road a few towns away. At first, I was afraid he was just going to take me back home, but he didn't. He was the first person I had seen besides my father in so long and he was so kind that I just started telling him everything. I don't even remember what I told him, I just remember him helping me into his car and then being wrapped up in a blanket at the station. They filed a report and handed me over to a social worker. She helped me with a lot of things. I stayed in a shelter for a while, and there was a counselor there who helped me, too."

  She paused to wipe her eyes and realized her mascara had smudged hopelessly. "There’s so much I missed out on, not just because of being locked up in the attic but because of the way Ezekiel and I were raised. It was overwhelming, like waking up in a different world. At first, all I wanted to do was go back to isolation, but there were so many good people who helped me find my place. I had a counselor who convinced me that everything my father had done was wrong. She encouraged me to file charges. They arrested my father and put him away for five years, but my counselor insisted that filing a lawsuit against his ‘ministry’ was the best way to ensure that he couldn't use the money he'd made off of me to come after me in the future."

  "Five years?" Darren snarled. "That bastard should be in prison for the rest of his life."

  "Apparently, the judge didn't agree," she murmured. "He got out early. I was warned that's probably what would happen. It was my word against his. None of his former congregants would testify against him, and the rest were dead. I won the lawsuit, though, and it was more than enough to change my name and identity to move on. As far as anyone in my hometown knows, Alyssa Hurlow is dead. Everyone except him, apparently.“

  "Well, that explains a lot," said Darren, raking a hand through his hair. "It still doesn't explain how he found you here.”

  "My father may have kept his family away from the ‘corrupting influence of technology,’ but it seems he found me the same way you did," Jordan said dryly. "I drew attention to myself in the other towns. It was only a matter of time before he found me. I'm sure he was watching the Internet for miracle healings."

  "And he knew you were too soft-hearted to resist," Darren muttered.

  Jordan looked up at him in surprise. “So you do believe me?"

  "Do I believe you have supernatural powers? No," he said firmly. "I think your whack-job parents just brainwashed you into believing it to make money, but that doesn't make what you went through any less real. Do I believe you? Of course I do."

  Jordan pursed her lips, struggling to fight down the emotion stirred by his words.

  "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I didn't mean to offend you."

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "You didn't. I just didn't think you'd react this way. I thought--"

  "You thought I'd see you differently? The way your father does?"

  “Yeah,” she said hoarsely. “I guess so.”

  Darren pulled her close again, sweeping the curve of her jaw with his knuckles. The look in his eyes was so earnest and gentle that it made her heart ache. "I don't care if you're Alyssa Hurlow or Jordan Adams or the fucking antichrist himself, I see you for what you really are. Beautiful, kind to a fault and a little crazy, but also the bravest person I've ever met. I love you.”

  Jordan froze. All she could do was stare at him in shock and wait for him to take it back. A slow smile spread across his face and he added, "You heard me. I love you, Jordan,” he repeated. “I know it's a bit soon, but one day, if you're willing, I have every intention of being the reason you change your name for the second and final time."

  A strangled laugh escaped her. Relief and dismay bubbled over, impossible to contain. She shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. She didn’t know when her guard had dropped low enough to actually start falling seriously for him, but she’d never imagined that she would have to worry about it since it just didn’t seem possible that he would ever feel that way in return. “Darren, think about what you're saying. Even if you only accept the parts that are purely logical, my life is a trainwreck. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

  Darren cupped her face in both hands and kissed her with gentleness that made her feel like she was about to shatter. “If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of a trainwreck myself, but the thing is… I kind of like the way our broken pieces fit together."

  Jordan felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I kind of like it, too."

  "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. Not until you get sick of me.”

  Jordan pulled away and frowned as reality set back in. "Darren, my father threatened you on the phone. If I stay in Cold Creek, you're in danger."

  "Do I look like someone who would be intimidated by a televangelist?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  "You don't understand. He knows people."

  "Yeah, I'm sure he's got a rough choir that could fuck me up, and maybe some priests, too, but I'll take my chances," he said wryly.

  "Pentecostals don't have priests, Darren."

  He rolled his eyes. "Either way, I'm not letting him come between me and the best thing that's ever happened to me. If he steps foot in Cold Creek, he's gonna be begging that judge to put him back in his cell."

  Jordan laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. His confidence was starting to get to her. Her father was certainly no physical match for Darren, but she also knew that she had no hope of convincing Darren of any spiritual threat. Despite knowing better, Jordan had every intention of clinging to the false sense of security while it lasted. Even a lie could be a beautiful thing when it was all you had.

  Sixteen

  Jordan knew that once word about her relationship with Darren officially spread it was only a matter of time before they were invited to one of Cindy's infamous dinner parties. She just hadn't imagined that her friend would throw one for that sole reason.

  Darren was clearly less than enthused, but he had agreed to go. He had also agreed to wear a blazer for the occasion, but Jordan hadn't been successful in talking him out of jeans. At least the party was an excuse to be around him without having to talk about her father. Ever since that night in the park, Darren had been doggedly determined to get her to file a police report and wasn't moved by her hesitation. After all, to someone who didn’t believe in anything, the fear of angering an aven
ging angel wasn't a sufficient reason for not reporting harassment.

  There was a car Jordan didn't recognize in the driveway, but she wouldn't have been surprised to find that Henry had more than one. There weren't nearly enough cars to suggest a dinner party, which set her nerves off. As kind as he was, Henry made her nervous and she wasn't crazy about the idea of an intimate evening as the subject of his suspicious glances and questions. That night she had even more reason to be nervous around him for fear that Darren would try to enlist his help against her father.

  Darren gave her arm a comforting squeeze and a warm, calm feeling radiated out from his touch and throughout the rest of her body. “No reason to be nervous. It’s just dinner.”

  “Do I really look like that much of a nervous wreck?”

  He gave her a reassuring smile before lifting the door knocker shaped like a wolf’s head. “Henry has that effect on people.”

  A moment later, Cindy's maid opened the door. "Dr. St. Clair and Ms. Adams," she said warmly, stepping aside to let them through. “Welcome.”

  "Evening, Hanna," said Darren. He helped Jordan out of her coat before offering the maid his own.

  "You'll be in the dining room this evening," Hanna said, motioning for them to follow her down the long corridor. Jordan looked around while trying not to be too obvious about her fascination over the decor. Her father's estate was no cottage, but it was furnished with gaudy items purchased with money that had been fleeced from his blue collar congregants. There were no abstract paintings of doves, plated gold candelabras or large white leather couches to be found in the Danbridge's home. The New England colonial was filled with tasteful upholstery, antique furniture, dark woods and enough narrow hallways to constitute a maze.

  Cindy's fine tastes were evident in the art that hung on the walls, but Jordan knew the mayor and his wife weren't the only family members who lived at Danbridge Hall. Part of the reason she was so nervous about going to the party was the idea of running into one of them.

  "Quite the sight, isn't it?" Darren asked so only she could hear.

  "It feels like the type of place you'd take a tour to see," she whispered back.

  "You can in the summertime," he said matter-of-factly. "The Danbridges pretty much built this town. A handful of them came over on the Mayflower."

  That explained a lot. Old money had a way of multiplying. She couldn’t help but wonder why Max worked at the post office if it obviously wasn’t a necessity. Then again, from the way Chase told it, they all held some government post or another.

  "Here you are," said Hanna, gesturing for them to walk through the open door that led into the dining room. Cindy and Henry were already seated at the head of a beautifully set oak table. Henry’s keen eyes were tired, ringed with purple so deep it almost looked like a bruise. Tina was there, which could very well have been the reason for his exhaustion, and there was an older man Jordan didn't recognize seated next to her.

  "Welcome," Cindy called, waving to them from across the table. "Come have a glass of wine, we're just waiting for two more to arrive! I'm sure you all know each other already."

  Jordan hesitated, looking at the man she didn't recognize. He was in his sixties with a handsome, well-lined face and kind eyes. "I'm afraid we don't," she admitted.

  The older man stood, offering her a warm handshake. "Alec Meridan, I run the butcher shop. Judging from the fact you're the only person I've never met, I'm guessing you're a vegetarian."

  Jordan gave him a timid smile. “I am. But my landlady’s a big fan of your meat.”

  It took her a moment to realize why they were all staring at her. When Alec unleashed a hoarse gale of laughter, Jordan realized her mistake and her cheeks turned bright red. Soon enough everyone else was laughing. Even Henry. Jordan wasn't sure whether to be mortified or flattered that she had gotten him to crack a smile. She settled on the former and took a long gulp of wine. “Usually I at least wait until dessert to humiliate myself.”

  Alec was still laughing so hard it was almost a wheeze. "Haven't laughed like that in a good long time," he said, wiping the corner of his eye.

  Darren touched Jordan’s arm but he was laughing the hardest of all. She elbowed him in the ribs, which just made him double over even more.

  "You men have such gutter minds," Cindy huffed, even though she’d been cackling too.

  The door swung open and Max strode into the room like he owned it. It was the first time Jordan had seen him in anything other than his work uniform or a three-piece suit. He was by far the least formal member of the group and went as far as wearing a sleeveless white tank top that showcased his muscular frame. Judging from the look on his face, the dining room was the very last place on earth he wanted to be.

  Max’s eyes met Jordan’s from across the table as he took a seat next to his aunt. The small smile he gave Jordan didn’t quite meet his eyes. The dark circles around them made the resemblance between him and Henry all the stronger. “Sorry I’m late.”

  "Where's Lauren?" Tina asked, looking toward the door as if expecting someone else to walk through it.

  Max took a sip of his wine before answering, "She's not coming.”

  The room was silent for a moment as if everyone expected further explanation. When it became clear that Max wasn’t going to offer one, Henry cleared his throat and folded his hands in front of him on the table. “Well, now that everyone’s here, I’d like to thank you all for joining us. Good company is a hard thing to come by,” he said, raising his glass.

  Jordan joined the toast, but she remained fixated on Max. So did Darren and Henry. Something was obviously wrong, and Jordan very much doubted it stopped at a no-show dinner date.

  Fortunately, Alec’s jovial nature and endless stories kept things lighthearted. Some of the tales from his Navy days were less than believable, but he told them with such animation and conviction that it hardly mattered. He and Henry were obviously good friends, despite the age difference between them.

  When dessert was over, the two men wandered off for cigars and more alcohol, leaving Cindy and Darren to discuss matters of the town. Soon enough, the conversation turned into one of Cindy's infamous attempts to get Darren to join the town council. The argument began with an eyeroll and escalated into a match of raised tones. Tina seemed to be enjoying the spectatorship, but Max stared off into space. It was clear that he didn’t want to be there and even clearer that not all of him was.

  "I don't know why you can't be more like your girlfriend," Cindy said, snapping Jordan out of her thoughts. "She's only been here a couple of months, and already she's volunteered to help with the festival and the relay race."

  "That's probably because she can't say no to pushy people like you," Darren shot back.

  Cindy rolled her eyes. "That is not true. Is it, Jordan?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  Cindy frowned. "You want to help with the festival out of your own free will, don't you?"

  "You're being pushy right now!" Darren cried.

  "It's fine, really, I'm happy to help with the festival," said Jordan. Sure, Cindy was a bit pushy, but she didn’t mind the chance to make a slightly better impression on the other townsfolk. There were still plenty of people who looked at her like she was going to turn them into frogs if they blinked the wrong way.

  "Oh, good," Cindy said, doing such a one-eighty that Jordan couldn't help but feel a bit manipulated. "That reminds me, I got the costume back after your fitting. You may as well try it on while you're here so I can send it back if it needs any finally alterations.

  "Here?" Jordan echoed.

  "What costume?" Darren asked, scowling.

  "The exploitative little genie costume Cindy is making her wear to drive traffic to the fortuneteller's booth," Tina replied nonchalantly. She loved nothing more than ratting out her sister’s plans. The two of them reminded Jordan of a pair of geese, always pecking at each other yet flocking together anyway.

  Cindy looked at her with pure vitriol. "You ma
ke it sound so tawdry. There's nothing wrong with using a pretty girl to draw a crowd for a good cause."

  "So it's a strip club for charity," Tina sneered.

  “It is nothing of the sort!” Cindy huffed. “And it’s not exploitative.”

  "I'll be the judge of that," said Darren.

  "My, you're really latching onto the macho man role this time," mused Tina.

  This time, Cindy and Darren glared at her.

  "Fine," Cindy said with an agitated sigh. "Come see it for yourself."

  Darren hesitated, looking over at Jordan. “As long as Jordan is alright with it."

  "I don't mind, but now?" There were a lot of ways she’d imagined the evening going, but an impromptu fashion show in front of her boyfriend wasn’t one of them.

  "No time like the present," Cindy said, ushering her toward the door.

  “I want to see. And while you’re at it, show me the costume you picked out for me,” Tina said, stalking after them. “I don’t trust your judgment.”

  “If I had any judgment, yours would be a burlap sack,” Cindy taunted, opening a door at the end of the hall. She pulled a couple of garment bags out of the closet and handed one to Jordan and the other to Tina. “You can get changed in here. Tina, I’m sure you can just call on a cloud of sulfur and transform.”

  “Would you shut your mouth, you old hag?” Tina snapped. Jordan shut the door to the spare bedroom and heard them continuing to bicker down the hall. She unzipped the garment bag and pulled on the surprisingly high-quality blue and purple silk costume on. She hadn’t thought much about it during the initial fitting, but as soon as she walked out and realized Max had joined the others, she became keenly aware of just how much of her cleavage and midriff were exposed.

  Old habits died hard, and so did old attitudes toward modesty that had been drilled into her head her whole life. She squared her shoulders and folded her arms, trying to look the part of the confident woman she only felt like half the time. “Well? How does it look?” she asked when she finally realized Darren wasn’t going to say anything. She could read the look on his face enough to know his silence was not from disapproval, but it was the look in Max’s eyes that she didn’t know what to do with. Their golden depths were always intimidating, but there was something predatory in that gaze tonight.