Secrets and Spells

by L. Danvers

  Her brow wrinkled at that. Was she considering my offer? She paused for a moment, studying me. Then, she lifted her chin. “They didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “About your friend... Sofia really didn’t tell you?”

  I was growing agitated with the vague questions. “Tell me what? What did they do to her?”

  “She’s fine,” she said flatly.

  “Where is she? I want to speak with her.”

  “You can’t,” she explained. “Grace isn’t here.”

  “What?!” She had to be lying. This whole time, I thought Grace was here being tortured. But now, Evangeline was telling me Grace wasn’t even here? Where was she, then?

  Despite my knee-jerk reaction, I felt a glimmer of hope. Had Grace escaped? Had she defended herself?

  But if she wasn’t here, and she was fine, why hadn’t she come to rescue me? She knew they had taken me, didn’t she? She was there when Sofia snapped my neck... It didn’t make any sense. Grace didn’t just abandon people she cared about.

  Sofia disposed of the syringe dispenser and washed her hands in the sink at the other end of the room. “You’re wasting your time worrying about her,” she said, looking at me through the reflection in the mirror.

  Despite the fresh dose of artificial blood, the room was spinning. Why would worrying about Grace be a waste of my time? What had they done to her? “What are you saying?”

  She dried her hands off with the towel and headed for the door, not bothering to have the decency to look at me while she spoke. She pulled the door open and paused, her gaze still focused ahead. “I’m saying Grace isn’t here, and she isn’t coming back for you. Sofia made sure of that.” And then she walked out, letting the door slam shut behind her.

  Grace

  Startled, I bolted upright. I’d had the same nightmare running on repeat for as long as I could remember. I was standing in a strange room with three other people mumbling in some other language—Latin, maybe? The more I spoke, the more one of the men screamed. He was clawing at his skin, which was melting right off his bones. His lips had tugged into a smile right before he died, which was weird, even for a dream.

  I’d run a Google search a while back to see if I could figure out what it might mean. According to one site, dreaming about a stranger dying could mean that you felt disconnected from the changes in your life. Maybe so, but it still didn’t explain why my subconscious was so dark.

  And as for the site’s interpretation, I did feel detached as of late, but there hadn’t been any major changes of note. Every day was the same. Wake up early. Work. Chat with Mrs. Johnson and the other regulars. Listen to Madison rattle off her latest gossip. Come home. Go to sleep. Have nightmares. You know—normal stuff.

  I headed to the kitchen and popped some ibuprofen to dull the headache, wishing there was a pill I could pop to erase the memories of that nightmare from my head. When I was finished chugging my glass of water, I set my cup down on the pale blue Formica countertop. Chewing my fingernail, my cheeks flushed as I thought of everything that had happened last night.

  Nightmare aside, my birthday had been fun. Thanks to Madison’s prodding, Bellamy bought us a couple of rounds of drinks. We talked for at least an hour about everything from our childhoods to our favorite types of music. I could have talked to him all night, but he had to get back to work. I’d hoped he would ask for my number, but he never did. And I was too nervous to offer it. I hadn’t dated anyone since high school—and that hardly counted as really dating.

  Even though I was bummed that he didn’t ask me out, after a few drinks, I was much more amenable to Madison’s vision for how a birthday should be celebrated. And I had to admit, partying was a good distraction from thinking about Bellamy. We’d hopped from bar to bar around downtown, and eventually, we found our way to a club. Some of our co-workers from the Sunny Side Grille showed up to celebrate with us. We’d stayed out way too late dancing, and I’d only gotten about four hours of sleep. And thanks to my recurring dream, those four hours hadn’t been restful. Still, it was worth it.

  After a quick shower, I stood in front of the mirror as I blow-dried my hair. Was that... a piercing? I tucked my hair behind my ear to get a better look. You’d think I’d remember getting piercings. Sure enough, small crescent moons dangling from golden hoops hung from each of my earlobes. I shrugged. At least drunk-me had picked something cute.

  I finished drying my hair, tied it into a messy bun and put on some concealer to cover up the bags under my eyes. Then I added a little blush, too, because—who was I kidding? If there was ever a reason to use makeup, it was when you’d only gotten four hours of sleep the night before. Once I looked semi-human again, I threw on my uniform and sneakers and headed out the door.

  It was 6:35 a.m. by the time I made it to the Sunny Side Grille—five minutes past when I was supposed to be there. The manager, Harriett, gave me the stink-eye, but she didn’t say anything. This was my first time being late, and she’d undoubtedly picked up on my shame as I walked in the door, apologizing profusely.

  I busied myself with the daily morning tasks, and before I knew it, it was time to open. Mrs. Johnson was there, waiting by the door. As soon as we spotted her, I unlocked the door and held it open for her. She told me she wanted her usual order, so I gave the kitchen a head’s up and started pouring her a cup of coffee.

  The front door chimed, and when I instinctively glanced up, I froze. I don’t know how long I stood there gaping like an idiot, but as soon as I realized what I was doing, I abruptly spun around, managing to splash the scalding cup of coffee all over the front of my uniform.

  “Grace?” that familiar, husky voice called out.

  Closing my eyes, I chewed down on my lower lip, trying to think of a way out of this. I’d give anything to be invisible right about now...

  His footsteps were getting closer. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me. It was time to face reality.

  I spun around to find Bellamy standing there—his button-down doing little to hide his broad shoulders. Why couldn’t he have shown up in sweats or something?

  Deciding it was better to make the best of it than wallow in my embarrassment, I smiled, trying to play it cool. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?”

  His face crinkled into that full-face smile again. Glancing back over his shoulder before speaking to me, he said, “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d swing by for a cup of coffee. But, uh,” he started, noticing the massive stain on my top, “orange juice would be good, too.”

  Madison came up behind me and whispered that she’d take over Mrs. Johnson’s table. So, I poured Bellamy a cup of juice to go. “In the neighborhood, huh?” I asked as I fitted the lid onto his drink.

  “Alright, you caught me,” he answered with a charming grin. “I might have remembered that you worked here.”

  “Oh.” I nodded a little too emphatically.

  He took a step closer toward the counter and propped his elbows on top of it, leaning in to speak to me. “I just wanted an excuse to see you again.”

  “Yeah?” I swallowed, trying to push down the sensation of heat that was rising in my chest.

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but shook his head. His cheeks started to flush, but he instantly composed himself. “Would you like to a Halloween party with me tomorrow? I know it’s last minute, but it should be fun. They’re throwing a big bash in Crescent Cape near that old vampire castle that burned down. They’ll have a band, and there’s this big costume contest. It’s a whole thing,” he said with a flourish of his hand.

  “Of course,” I said in an awkwardly high-pitched tone. I vaguely remembered hearing about what had happened at Crescent Cape, but the thought quickly evaporated from my mind. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  He chuckled. “Great.”

  Unable to contain my smile, I scribbled my phone number on the back of a napkin and slid it to him.

  He fol
ded it neatly and tucked into his pocket before sliding me a five-dollar bill and taking his juice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Grace,” he said with a flirtatious wink.

  “See you tomorrow, Bellamy.”

  I cocked my head to the side, enjoying the view of him walking away.

  After the door shut behind him, Madison and the rest of the employees mockingly yelled in a high-pitched voice, “See you tomorrow, Bellamy.”

  Ben

  Fangs hopped into my lap. Despite her name, Fangs was anything but threatening. She was a cream-colored Goldendoodle. She was massive in size, but she had no idea she was a big dog now. In her head, she was still a puppy.

  I scratched the top of her head, and she nuzzled against my shoulder. She was the world’s cuddliest dog. I’d gotten her a couple of years ago in an effort to have some sense of normalcy in my life. I’d managed to go three decades with minimal interaction with my supernatural ancestors, the vampire Blood Heirs and their werewolf brother, Julian. But ever since Julian concocted his hair-brained Choosing Ceremony scheme, I’d found myself tangled in their drama.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t been prepared for the chaos that always seemed to follow them. I was the last of the family line, and for centuries my human ancestors had kept tabs on the siblings.

  Some generations had minimal interaction with them. Others, like me, weren’t so lucky.

  Yet, part of me didn’t mind. Like it or not, they were my family. And they were the only family I had. Besides Fangs, that is.

  And I’d managed to get myself even further involved in the supernatural world. Now, in addition to being a travel blogger (working a 9 to 5 didn’t exactly mesh well with dealing with vampire and werewolf drama), I was a Collector. I traveled the world collecting magical objects. Sometimes to understand them. Sometimes to prevent them from getting into a supernatural’s hands. I stored most of them in my attic, which I’d had Grace protect with a spell. But I kept some of the more benign pieces around the house—upstairs, mostly. She’d put up protective wards around those rooms, too, just to be safe.

  I stared at my phone as I’d been doing every night since Xander and Grace left on that trip. I hadn’t heard from either one of them since.

  Part of me thought I shouldn’t worry. Xander had told me not to wait up for him. He had a history of disappearing for long stretches of time—sometimes for decades. But Grace was different. She’d become like family in recent years, and I couldn’t imagine her running off with Xander and not bothering to reach out. I’d texted and called them both. But I hadn’t heard any response. I could see Xander ignoring me. He usually only thought of himself anyway. But Grace... it was just so unlike her. Perhaps after finding the faerie dust, they’d gone off to follow another lead. But you’d think they would have had the courtesy to give me a heads up.

  Reaching for the phone again, I decided it was time to try something new. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken with Aiden. Ever since his vampire curse had been lifted and he’d become human again, I’d tried keeping contact to a minimum. He and his new bride, Victoria, deserved some time to themselves. They deserved to build a happy life together, away from all of this chaos.

  And yet, I could no longer ignore the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get his opinion. To see whether this sounded like typical Xander behavior or something more. I couldn’t fathom what could have happened to them. Xander was a Blood Heir and Grace was a powerful young witch. I couldn’t imagine any situation they couldn’t handle. But I still couldn’t wrap my head around why neither one of them had bothered checking in.

  After a couple of rings, Aiden answered. “Uncle Ben,” he said, the surprise in his tone evident. “How’s it going?”

  “Things are going well,” I said, purposefully not dumping my worries on him right away. “Just wanted to check in with you and see how you and Victoria are doing. Is she there with you? Please tell her hello for me.”

  “She’s at the grocery store,” he answered. “But I’ll pass your message along.”

  I shook my head. I got up from my La-Z-Boy chair and began to head upstairs as we chatted. “How very normal of her.”

  “Groceries. Cooking. Chores. Sinus infections. Living the dream.”

  “I take it being a human isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?” He didn’t answer, and I had to check the phone to make sure the call hadn’t ended. “Aiden?” I’d always wondered how Aiden would adjust to being a human. He had ruled over Crescent Cape as its vampire prince for centuries. In the blink of an eye—or, rather, the bite of a wolf—his entire identity had been stripped away. Yes, he was madly in love with Victoria. But was that enough to keep him happy? He had gone from being one of the most fearsome vampires in the world to a nobody. That couldn’t be easy.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m guessing you didn’t call just to ask about how my day-to-day life is going.”

  “No, actually.” By now I had wandered into one of the many rooms which housed the various objects and artifacts my family had collected over the years. My hand trailed along the edge of the shelf, past the siphoning tool, the shapeshifting ring, the dragon claw—I still wasn’t convinced the dragon claw did anything, but hey—who didn’t want a dragon claw? “I was calling to see if you’ve heard from Xander or Grace lately.”

  “No. Why?”

  “They went to New York weeks ago, and I haven’t heard from them since. I was hoping they might have checked in with you.”

  “Afraid not. But Xander’s not one to reach out. And Grace hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you, Aiden. At least, not anymore.”

  “Either way,” he said, “she’s never called or texted, so nothing out of the usual there. Did you try reaching out to Nick?”

  Nick was Grace’s twin brother. The one she didn’t even know she’d had until Danielle had figured it out after going through old Carlisle coven records back at the castle, back before the castle was burned to the ground. Grace and Nick had connected, but their relationship had been rocky ever since the incident at the hotel—the incident which we were under strict orders from Grace to never speak of again. From what I understood, though, she and her brother were on speaking terms again. She checked in with him every so often—sometimes to give him a heads up if she found a new lead, sometimes to pick his brain for ideas. But Nick had moved away and left his coven. I didn’t have a way to track him down even if I wanted to. And I wasn’t stupid enough to try to ask someone in the coven where he was. Not after what Grace and Xander had done... “I don’t have his number,” I explained. “And I don’t know anyone other than Grace who would have a way to reach out to him.”

  “Honestly,” Aiden said, trying to calm my nerves, “I wouldn’t worry too much. You know how Xander feels about Grace. He probably told her how he felt, and they’re off riding into the sunset together.”

  “Yes, because your brother is totally the riding off into the sunset type. Not to mention, that would require Xander being honest with himself about how he really feels about her.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And while I wouldn’t be surprised if Xander gave up on trying to open that portal, Grace would never do that. Once Grace puts her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.”

  Aiden thought on that for a moment. “You’re really worried about them?”

  “I am.”

  “Have you tried tracking them?”

  I laughed at that. “You want me to get the police involved?” The number one rule when dealing with supernaturals was to keep the police out of it. They only complicated things. Plus, they were human. Which meant involving them in supernatural matters could cost them their lives. I’d never put them in that position. And the police seemed to prefer it that way anyway. After the dust settled after the war, supernaturals agreed to keep to the shadows. If they left the humans alone, the humans would leave them alone. And for the most part, both sides complied. Th
ere were outliers, of course—bloodthirsty vampires and crazed hunters. But they were few and far between. The fact that vampires could now buy fake blood over the counter had cut way back on the needless deaths. And anyway, supernaturals had existed for thousands of years without humans being any the wiser. They knew how to keep a low profile.

  “Of course not,” Aiden replied. “I’m asking if you’ve had a witch try to track them.”

  “The only witch I trust is Grace.” To be fair, she was also the only witch I knew.

  Aiden was quiet for a few moments more. I regretted ever calling him. He was trying to start over. I should have respected that. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. You’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

  “No,” he answered firmly. “If your gut is telling you something is wrong, we should listen to it. Worst case, we find them and see that everything’s fine. Right? I know of a witch who will help. I’ll get her to do a tracking spell, and we’ll find them.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep trying to get ahold of them. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Oh—and Uncle Ben?”

  “Yes?”

  “If the worst happened... if the wrong person discovered just who and what they are...”

  “Yeah?”

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you need to be careful.”

  Grace

  I had just finished applying my lip gloss when I heard a knock at the door. Despite the concealer, my eyes still had dark circles under them. The nightmares had been getting worse. Not so much that they were different. Just more vivid. More real.

  I gave myself one last glance in the mirror, checking out how I looked in my witch costume. I doubted I’d win the costume contest as it wasn’t all that unique, but that was okay. Satisfied, I tousled my hair, checked my teeth and rushed to answer the door. I wiped my palms against my robe before opening it. “Hey, Bellamy,” I said, breathlessly. And then I covered my smile with my hand, giggling at the coincidence. We hadn’t even discussed our costumes—mainly because I was scrambling at the last minute to find one and just went with the first thing that fit. What were the chances that we’d dress alike?