by Bianca D’Arc
“I think you’d better pack a lunch from now on. A can of pop, too. Or whatever you like to drink,” he counselled. “I wouldn’t take a chance on anything from here.”
They were near the end of the small loop in the path, and lunchtime was almost up, so they started heading back toward the building by unspoken mutual consent. Kiki’s steps dragged a bit, as if she didn’t want to go back inside. Jack knew how she felt, but it wouldn’t do to let anyone—especially Carol—realize that they knew, or even suspected, anything.
“Don’t let them get to you,” he said softly. “And don’t let them see you noticed anything, okay?”
Startled eyes rose to meet his. Damn. She looked scared. That wouldn’t do.
Jack reached down and took her hand. The alarm in her gaze turned to something else. Something better for the others to see, if they were looking.
“If anyone asks, you’re uncomfortable because the guy from corporate was hitting on you, okay?” He smiled at her shocked expression. “Whatever you do, don’t let anyone realize you’re uncomfortable because of what we think might be going on here. Do you understand?” She nodded. “Good. Now, forcefully tug your hand out of mine and walk away. Don’t look, but we’ve got an audience.”
Chapter Eight
Kiki successfully resisted the instinct to look around to see who was watching and followed instructions. Jack was scaring her. Well, not Jack, per se, but the entire situation was frightening. In one way, she was glad to have confirmation that she wasn’t crazy. It was oddly comforting to have someone else feel the same way about this place as she did.
In another way, it was even scarier than it had been before. Questions zoomed around her mind, making her wonder what was really going on here. Was it real? Or was Jack humoring her? Perhaps making sport of her?
She didn’t think so. She tugged her hand from his and spun around to head quickly back toward the door to the building. She almost ran into Cindy, the receptionist. So, she’d been the one noticing them. Kiki almost groaned. Cindy was one of the worst gossips in the entire place. Surely, the story would be all over the plant by quitting time.
Kiki went in the door and marched straight to her office. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, and she was glad when nobody stopped her to chat. Not that many people here were friendly toward her, but they were definitely nosy, and a few had chatted with her, on occasion, seeming to be more interested in interrogating her about her past jobs and how she liked this one than answering any of her questions. She’d learned to avoid most of them. She didn’t like being so very obviously grilled for information. Especially when she had no idea what their motive was or what they were hoping to learn from her.
Kiki settled behind her desk, hearing Jack go into his own office next door a few minutes later. She set to work, and before she knew it, a half hour had passed. That’s when Cindy poked her head in Kiki’s door, all smiles.
“I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want some?”
Never before had Cindy offered to get Kiki anything. Kiki tried to hide her surprise.
“No, but thanks for asking,” she replied brightly, as if touched by the offer.
Rather than leaving, Cindy stepped into Kiki’s office. “Did I see you outside with the new guy?” Cindy’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, and she jerked her head toward the wall separating Kiki’s office from Jack’s. “It looked like he was holding your hand.”
“Uh…” Crap! Cindy was looking for information, and Kiki knew she had to follow Jack’s advice, much as she didn’t want to paint him as a villain. “You know how these corporate types are. He’s a little…um…aggressive in going after what he wants.”
Cindy’s brows lowered in fake concern. “If he’s harassing you, there are people you can tell. Sick Mr. Crumb from H.R. on his butt, and he’ll stop.”
“No, it’s not that bad. I think I handled it,” Kiki said quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was get Jack in trouble for something that was far from the truth.
“Well, if he tries anything again, you really should report him. That kind of stuff isn’t allowed anymore,” Cindy said somewhat self-righteously.
Kiki knew enough about the younger woman by now to know that her supposed concern was a tissue of lies. Cindy didn’t care about anyone other than herself. If she was offering support, there had to be an ulterior motive. Clearly, she was just trying to get some juicy gossip.
Much as Kiki didn’t like the rumor that would start now, after saying what she’d just said about Jack, she was glad he’d provided the cover story. Even though it would put him in a bad light, he’d given her a ready-made excuse that didn’t involve evil feelings and secret ceremonies in the dark of the night.
Jack heard every word of the low-voiced conversation next door. Shifter hearing was better than regular folks’. He could hear the reluctance in Kiki’s tone when she did as he’d suggested and all but accused him of being an overbearing asshole. That was all right with him. He could take it. Frankly, he didn’t give a shit what these people thought of him, as long as they kept Kiki out of their sights.
He’d been sitting in his borrowed office, pretending to work and trying to reason out in his mind what had been going on in that cafeteria. He’d come to the conclusion that Carol had been casting a wide net, slowly bringing every employee that ate in the cafeteria—which was the vast majority of them—under her spell. Only a very few were clear of her taint by now, probably.
But to what end? What was Carol’s goal here? If she was the potion witch, as he believed, then she could probably whip something up in her cauldron to sap the life energy—and any possible magical energy—from her followers. There was also something to be said for the group energy of that many people participating in whatever rituals Carol led in that warehouse. Even if they weren’t consciously aware of what they were doing, their presence would help fuel whatever spell Carol was weaving, or whatever evil she was summoning.
Having a bunch of entranced people at her beck and call was not only an ego trip, but also a power base. With that many people under her spell, she could do a lot of damage. Their energies would help her create potions and cast spells that were much more potent than if she’d simply used her own power.
Jack wondered how long it would be before Carol started targeting those who hadn’t already partaken of whatever it was she had been brewing up in the cafeteria. He suspected it would happen sooner rather than later. In fact, Cindy’s invitation to fetch coffee for Kiki might’ve been a ploy to get her to drink whatever poisonous potion was going around.
Thankfully, he’d been able to warn Kiki, and she had turned down the offer. He suspected they’d start resorting to more forceful means if they couldn’t get her to join the herd, but for now, it seemed she was off the hook. Jack resolved to keep an even closer eye on Kiki. She was his sole ally in this madhouse, at the moment, and he wanted to keep her safe.
The easiest way, of course, would be to get her to quit this job, but he knew it wasn’t so simple. She had to have income. She had obligations in town, including to her landlord, whoever that may be. He was still interested in finding out who owned the fairy cottage, but there were more pressing matters, at the moment. Like finding out what Carol’s end-game really was. What was she planning? What was she trying to do by bewitching all these people? It had to be something big.
The answer couldn’t be anything good.
Jack heard Cindy finally leave Kiki’s office, and then, the slow shuffling of papers and click of computer keys resumed as Kiki went back to work. Jack did the same. He had a lot of ground to cover here, and some of it was very mundane, indeed. The files wouldn’t read themselves, so he settled down for an afternoon of reading.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, he was more than ready to leave the files behind. He gathered his stuff and followed Kiki as she left the building. He wasn’t too obvious about it, but he followed her car on his Harley, keeping back far enough not to draw atte
ntion but close enough to be certain she made it back to her little cottage safely.
He was pleased to find that he wasn’t followed. Apparently, surveillance on him—or Kiki—hadn’t been implemented yet. He had a feeling the longer he stayed, the more suspicious of him the powers-that-be would become, and eventually, they’d have him watched. But, for now, he was free of a tail, and he decided he would stop and have a further chat with Kiki. He really wanted to impress upon her how important it was to tread lightly at work.
He probably shouldn’t take the chance, but he was truly concerned for her safety. Something about her made him want to watch over her at all times, though he knew that would be impossible. Still, he wanted to be as certain as he could that she would take this situation seriously and stay as safe as possible.
With that thought in mind, Jack drove all around Kiki’s cottage, getting the lay of the land. The little house backed onto a stream. There was a wide garden area between the little creek and the backdoor of the house. Jack decided to park his bike at the hotel and make it look as if he’d gone in for the night if anybody should happen to be keeping tabs on his whereabouts. He’d sneak out of the hotel and go around to Kiki’s backdoor as soon as it started to get dark.
Plan firmly in mind, he set about implementing it. The first thing he would do would be to stop at that great Italian place and order some food to go.
Kiki didn’t know what to think when she heard a light knock on her backdoor. Nobody came to the backdoor. Nobody had ever approached her cottage from the back, where the trees, shrubs and plants had gone wild in the most picturesque sort of way. She went to the door hesitantly, unsure if she should open it.
“Kiki? It’s me, Jack.”
Hearing his voice, she opened the door, still confused as to why he might be there—especially at the backdoor. He stood tall under the porch roof, handsome as anything she’d ever seen and holding up a large bag with the Italian restaurant’s logo on it.
“I brought dinner, if you’re hungry,” he told her, his smile was a little devilish. As if he was tempting her to give him a chance.
She was such a goner. All Jack had to do was crook his little finger, and she’d jump at the chance to spend time in his presence. That he’d come bearing gifts was even better. She backed up and invited him in. The kitchen was at the back of the house, and the door opened straight into the little space where she spent a lot of time cooking and eating at the small bistro table in the corner. She went to the table as he came in, filling the small cottage with his exceeding large presence.
“I hope you don’t mind my barging in,” he said, his whole demeanor absolutely charming.
“No, but why did you come to the back?” she asked, curious. She assumed he was trying to be cautious about them being seen together, but she wanted to hear it from him.
“After today’s lunch incident, I figured it was better to lay low. After all, I’m supposed to be some sort of chauvinist masher, right?” His grin invited her to laugh with him, but she truly felt bad about that.
“I’m really sorry,” she told him. “But you did say—”
He held up one hand and shook his head. “It’s okay. I heard Cindy questioning you. I’m glad you used that excuse. The less they think we might be working together, the better. Being seen as my friend could only cause more problems, because I intend to shut them down. Whatever little scheme they have going on there, I’m going to put an end to it before somebody gets hurt.”
“You really think it’s that dangerous?” She sat down, her knees going weak at the open acknowledgment of her fears.
“I will never lie to you, Kiki,” he told her, his tone turning serious. “I think whatever is going on at the plant is something very sinister.” He paused. “And very dangerous.”
She’d thought the same, but hearing him say it flat out like that took the wind out of her sails. She just sat at her kitchen table, blinking, trying to take it all in and figure out what she was going to do.
“Let’s eat,” he said, placing the take-out bag on her kitchen counter. “We can talk more over dinner. If you don’t mind my inviting myself to dine, that is.” He gave her a small lopsided smile that she couldn’t resist.
Kiki smiled back at him, though she was still a bit shaky, and got to her feet. She took down plates and glasses from the cabinets while he unpacked the shopping bag that smelled divine.
“I got the gnocchi for you, but if you’d rather have something different, there’s also chicken cutlets parmigiana, those rolled eggplant things, and a meatball hero.” He named each as he removed them from the large bag.
“Do you always eat so much?” she asked.
“Lunch wasn’t much, and it was a long time ago. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse,” he told her with a good-natured grin. “Come on, call dibs on what you want before I attack the rest.”
Grinning with him, she took the container with the gnocchi. She was predictable, she supposed, but she was touched that he’d remembered what she’d liked and had taken the time to order it for her. His thoughtfulness was touching.
“I didn’t get wine this time,” he went on, pulling a two-liter bottle of pop from the bottom of the bag. “Hope you like cola.”
“Love it,” she replied, already spooning out a portion of the gnocchi onto her plate.
She gave him a dinner plate and utensils, and he proceeded to pile it high with the contents of two more of the containers before taking a seat opposite her at the table. She’d brought over the bottle and glasses while he was dishing up his dinner and got some ice cubes from the freezer for each glass. Napkins and the salt and pepper shaker were the final touch.
They ate silently for a while, but Kiki’s mind raced with questions and conjecture. She was busy thinking while he ate, and eventually, it was Jack that broke the silence.
“I noticed the star at the apex of the roof. What’s that all about?” His question surprised her.
“It’s a thing we do here in Pennsylvania. A lot of the farms have stars on them. That and hex signs.”
“Hex signs? What are those?” he asked between bites.
“It’s a local thing. Part of Pennsylvania Dutch tradition. Hundreds of years ago, when the first of them came from Germany and the surrounding countries, they started putting hex signs on their barns and buildings. Some say, they are symbols that are supposed to bring good luck or protection. Depending on what the sign is, and what color it is, there are different meanings that evolved over time.” She’d grown up with such things and found it interesting to be able to explain some of the traditions of her family—in a generic sort of way—to an outsider.
“So, what does the star mean?” he asked as they continued to eat.
“Stars are generally thought to bring good luck, but they do have different nuances depending on how many points they have. Four points is the Morning Star, the Cross, or the Star of Bethlehem, with all the associated connotations. Five points, like on this house, is referred to sometimes, as a Nautical Star or Compass Star. It’s supposed to be the most potent form for protection and good luck. A six-pointed star is probably among the most common with the plain folk. It symbolizes the six days it took to create the world or the six attributes of our creator—wisdom, power, majesty, love, mercy, and justice. It’s called a hexagram. There are eight-, ten- and twelve-pointed stars, as well.”
“You seem to know a lot about this,” Jack commented. His expression invited her to share more.
“My family has a sideline making and selling hex signs to the tourist trade,” she admitted. “It’s something one of my brothers decided to do a few years back, and we all supported his decision and helped him get the business off the ground.”
“Sounds like you have a great family that helps each other. What did you contribute to your brother’s business idea?” he probed, snagging more food off the counter and dumping it on his plate.
She laughed, thinking back on that time in her life. “I did just abou
t everything. I cut out circle blanks. I silkscreened the mass-produced ones. I prepped the boards for my brother who did the high-end, hand-painted items. I delivered them to the tourist traps and handled some of the direct mail to his online customers. You name it, I did it. Actually, helping him was what made me want to study business in school.”
There was a natural lull while she ate a bit more, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Jack was easy company, and she was very much afraid she was getting to like being around him a bit too much.
“So, what are some of the other symbols?” he asked finally, calling her wandering attention back to the easy conversation they’d been having.
“Hearts for love, of course,” she answered immediately. “Tulips for faith, and distelfinks for luck and happiness.”
His brows drew together in puzzlement. “What in the world is a distelfink?”
She laughed and explained. “Sorry. A stylized bird. That’s just what we call them.”
“What about the colors? You said something about different colors having different meanings.”
She was pleased he’d remembered and surprised that he seemed genuinely interested.
“Well, black makes up a lot of the outline of most designs. It stands for protection. It also binds everything together,” she told him. “White is purity or the power of the moon. Orange is for abundance. Red for passion and art. Yellow for health, love, or the sun. Green for fertility, growth, or success. Blue for peace and calm. Purple for royalty and sacred things. And brown for the earth and strength.”
“And this all comes from the Amish?” He looked skeptical. “I thought they were all heavy-duty Christians.”
“Oh, they are. But they came from a culture that had a lot of old-world traditions, and the culture is sort of frozen in time. Imagine a society of three hundred years ago when people were closer to the earth, sun, moon and stars. They farmed the land, and there were no cars or televisions. No man on the moon. No airplanes in the sky.” She sighed. “It’s hard for people to imagine, but the Amish have successfully shut themselves away from most of the modern world. They still live on their farms and follow the ways of their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and on down the line.”