Witchin' USA

by Amanda M. Lee

  THE FARM LOOKED quiet when I parked in front of the house, struggling with the stick shift to get it in the correct gear four times before killing the engine. I was thankful the driveway wasn’t on an incline when I finally finished, because I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure I knew what I was doing.

  When I climbed out of the bus, I found Wesley sitting on his front porch. He had a pitcher of iced tea sitting on a small table and a pipe in his hand.

  “I figured you’d come.” Wesley smiled. “You were quicker than I thought.”

  “I had to get out of town for a few hours,” I admitted sheepishly, keeping my head down as I climbed the porch steps. “This is the only place I know that exists outside of the main town.”

  “There are many other points of interest on Moonstone Bay,” Wesley explained, pouring a glass of iced tea and handing it to me. “You’ll discover them yourself when the time is right.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “It’s not ominous. It’s just … everyone on this island is weird. Did you know there are mud pits out on the far side of the island and people actually pay to sit in them?”

  That was news to me. “No, but a mud bath is supposed to be great for your pores.”

  “There’s mud over there.” Wesley pointed toward a spot on the other side of the driveway. “Go roll around in that if you’re interested. It’s free.”

  I couldn’t hide my chuckle as I shook my head, staring at the eave offering us shade. “I need to ask you something,” I ventured after a few minutes of silence. “You’re probably not going to like it, but I still need to know.”

  “You want to know why I never contacted you.”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the question. Sarah Santiago brought up the fact that you might’ve wanted me dead because you wanted the lighthouse. I just … that’s not true, right?”

  One of Wesley’s sparkplug eyebrows winged up as he regarded me. “I have trouble believing anyone who shares my genes would drive out to a farm in the middle of nowhere to meet with a man she thinks might be a potential killer.”

  “It’s not that,” I said hurriedly, pressing the iced tea glass to my forehead to ward off the heat. “It’s just … Sarah seemed certain that you wanted the lighthouse. Everyone seems certain that the lighthouse is some big prize. I’m afraid I’m missing something.”

  “You’re missing a lot, girlie, but it’s not your fault.” Wesley stretched his long legs in front of him as he reclined in the chair. “For the record, I have no interest in killing you.”

  “That was only half of the question,” I pointed out.

  “Are you asking if I want the lighthouse?”

  I chewed my bottom lip and nodded, something about the expression causing Wesley to smile.

  “Your mother used to make that face when she was younger,” Wesley noted, his voice taking on a wistful quality. “You remind me of her.”

  “I’ve seen photographs,” I argued. “I don’t really look like her.”

  “You’re a mixture,” Wesley corrected. “You have your mother’s bone structure … and my eyes. You have a few of your mother’s mannerisms.”

  “I never knew her to compare.”

  “Which is a shame.” Wesley took me by surprise when he reached over and patted my hand. It was the first tactile contact we’d managed since meeting. “I should probably start from the beginning for your benefit?”

  I held my hands palms up and shrugged. “You can start wherever you want.”

  “I’ll start with May.” Wesley pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, perhaps centering himself, and then launched into his tale. “I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Your grandmother was a fiery woman. She had a mouth like … well, back in my day women didn’t talk like your grandmother.”

  “She was bossy?”

  “She swore like a drunken trucker after a three-day bender,” Wesley corrected. “She was also funny, bright, and beautiful and she had a smile that always made me happy to see her. We dated only a month before getting married.”

  “Wasn’t that kind of the norm back then?”

  Wesley’s eyes twinkled. “Do you mean back in the olden days?”

  “I wouldn’t put it in that rude of a manner, but kind of.”

  “It was normal. We had a blissful two years, a time that included the birth of your mother, and then reality set in. We might’ve loved each other – heck, we always loved each other – but living together was another story.”

  “So you divorced because you couldn’t live together?” That sounded rough. “You mentioned that you didn’t go after the lighthouse when you divorced. If the property is as important as everyone seems to think, why not?”

  “Because that lighthouse was part of your grandmother’s family history,” Wesley replied. “I probably could’ve gone after it, forced her to sign it over or sell it, but I had no interest in that. Even when we divorced I was trying to find a way to make things work.”

  “You never did, huh? That’s too bad.”

  “No, I did.” Wesley’s smirk was playful. “We divorced and only saw each other about once a week. We lived in separate homes, ran separate businesses and fought six days a week. On the seventh day – usually a Sunday – we rested.”

  I had no idea what that meant. “Are you saying … ?”

  “That your grandmother and I pretended to be married on Sundays but no other day of the week?” Wesley nodded. “Yes.”

  “Holy crap! Did everyone on the island know?”

  “Everyone on this island knows everything,” Wesley answered. “That’s how I know you’ve already hooked up with Galen. You move a little fast for my taste – I’d hoped to impart some of my wisdom before you got that far – but he’s a good choice. The boy has always been strong, and he has an impeccable set of ethics.”

  My cheeks colored under his studied gaze. “I don’t really want to talk about that. No offense, you seem like a nice guy and I’m, like, ninety percent sure you don’t want to kill me, but I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Ah, you’re a prude. Good to know.”

  I balked. “I’m not a prude.”

  “Only a prude would say that.” Wesley chuckled as he tapped his foot on the deck. “You remind me of your mother that way, too.”

  He seemed happy to reminisce about her, which opened the door for another set of questions. “Didn’t you ever want to see me?” It was a difficult question, but I needed to ask it. I wouldn’t be able to let it go otherwise.

  “We did want to see you,” Wesley countered. “In fact, we talked about it quite frequently.”

  “On your Sunday sex days?”

  “Yes.”

  I briefly covered my eyes. “I think I’m going to have nightmares picturing that.”

  “Then don’t picture it.” Wesley was in a pragmatic frame of mind. “Honey, we loved your mother. We raised her to be her own person. We raised her to be strong. We wanted her to be the sort of person who didn’t care what others thought. Unfortunately for us, she did exactly what we raised her to do and made her own decisions.”

  “You mean marrying my father, don’t you?”

  “We expected her to return to the island,” Wesley explained. “We didn’t know about your father until she decided to marry him. They’d only been dating a few weeks, and we knew it was a mistake. We tried talking to her about it, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “You said you married after a few weeks,” I pointed out. “Would you have listened if your parents tried to talk you out of it?”

  “My mother did try to talk me out of it. Didn’t work,” Wesley said. “The thing is, marrying a mortal is frowned upon. Paranormal cultures all over the world do it, and even though Moonstone Bay is progressive in some ways, it’s not in others.”

  “So you didn’t want her to marry Dad because he wasn’t magical?”

  “No offense to your father, because he seems to have done a good job raising you, but I w
ouldn’t have picked him for my little girl no matter what,” Wesley said. “I thought she deserved more. She felt differently.”

  “So you didn’t talk to her either, huh?”

  “That was a mistake.” Wesley fixed his eyes on me. “I shouldn’t have fought with her and I definitely shouldn’t have fallen out of touch. In the back of my mind I had time, you see. I had time to make things right. The thing is, I really didn’t.”

  Wesley broke off, clearing his throat as he fought the emotion storming his face. “We found out about you the same time we heard that our daughter was dead. It was a difficult time, to say the least.”

  “Did you blame me?”

  “No, honey.” The look on Wesley’s face was firm enough that I believed him. “That doesn’t mean we weren’t broken hearted. It’s just … we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t have rights where you were concerned. We thought about trying to push your father, but that seemed unfair. He was grieving, after all. We all were.”

  “So you did nothing,” I mused.

  “No, we gave your father a few years to get settled and then we went to him regularly with requests to see you,” Wesley corrected. “He always turned us down. I can’t say I blame him. I probably would’ve turned us down, too. It was still frustrating.

  “You see, we wanted a life with you, but your father worried that we would try to indoctrinate you into this life,” he continued. “No matter how much we promised not to do that, he wouldn’t budge.”

  “I’m kind of angry with him right now,” I admitted, sipping my iced tea and wiping the cool condensation against my cheek before continuing. “He never told me any of this. He acted surprised when May’s will showed up. I believe he told me only because he was legally required to do so.”

  “I won’t make excuses for the man,” Wesley said. “Part of me hates him because I’m just now meeting you. But when I put myself in his shoes I can’t help but wonder if I wouldn’t have done the same.”

  “Really?” I didn’t bother hiding my surprise. “Why?”

  “You were safe and you were all he had left of your mother,” Wesley replied. “I think he truly loved your mother, and her death leveled him. It takes a strong man to pick up the pieces and raise a child on his own. That’s what he did.

  “He never remarried as far as I heard,” he continued. “That means he did all the work where you’re concerned on his own. That’s worth some respect in my book.”

  It was strange – and oddly refreshing – to hear him say that. “He didn’t date when I was a kid, but he does now. His most recent girlfriend is younger than I am.”

  Wesley shrugged. “Is that bad?”

  “Um … yes.”

  Wesley snorted. “You’re cute. I’m glad I’m going to get the chance to spend some time with you.”

  “I’m glad, too.” I flashed a genuine smile. “Why didn’t you come to see me as soon as I arrived?”

  “I wanted you to get settled,” Wesley replied. “I figured May’s ghost would pay a visit and explain the big things to you. I’m not a witch, although I have a bit of mage in my blood. Your mother seemed to inherit only witchy abilities from May, which I was fine with. May was always stronger than me. We figured you would inherit only witchy genes from your mother, so it only made sense to let May explain.”

  “I burned a woman today,” I blurted out, worry getting the better of me. “She was pulling my hair and something kind of clawed out and burned her.”

  “Sarah Santiago?”

  I knit my eyebrows. “How did you know?”

  “One of my farmhands was in the bar having lunch when it happened,” Wesley explained. “I figured you’d make your way out here by the end of the day.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need answers and I’m the only person alive you think you can get them from,” Wesley said. “That’s not true. If you have questions you need answered right away, Galen can do it. He’s a good guy to have on your side … although we’re going to have a talk about the rest of it.”

  My furious blush was back. “I said I didn’t want to talk about that.”

  “I’m your grandfather. It’s my job to embarrass you.”

  “You’re doing a good job.”

  “Thank you.” Wesley beamed as he watched me shake my head. “Now drink your tea and I’ll give you a tour of the farm. This will be yours one day, after all.”

  I stilled, dumbfounded. “Seriously? I already have a lighthouse that I don’t know what to do with.”

  “It’s your lucky day.”

  “I didn’t feel that way this morning, but I do now.”

  “Then come on.” Wesley grunted as he got to his feet. “Let’s take a look around, shall we? There’s more to this island than beaches and muscle-bound sheriffs playing beach blanket lothario.”

  It took me a moment to grasp what he was saying. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s okay. I can talk for the both of us.”

  I believed him.

  23

  Twenty-Three

  I stayed longer than I should have, the tour of the farm serving as entertainment and a way for me to bond with a grandfather I didn’t even know I had. I didn’t have Booker’s phone number with me, so Wesley took it upon himself to call the jack-of-all-trades and explain my lateness. Apparently Booker didn’t care, and said he’d pick up the bus at the lighthouse in the morning.

  By the time I hit the road it was dark. I wasn’t particularly nervous about making the trek back to town – it was a straight shot, after all – until I realized there were no streetlights on the highway. I wasn’t used to that. In the Detroit area, even in the suburbs, there were lights on every corner. The highway heading back to Moonstone Bay was absolutely desolate and I couldn’t shake the creepy feeling that I was about to lose myself in a horror movie if I wasn’t careful.

  I slowed my pace. The signs said I could go sixty miles an hour, but that seemed too fast given the winding road. I decreased my speed to forty and still felt as if I was flying around a few curves.

  I shouldn’t have stayed so late, I chastised myself. Next time I’d make sure to leave long before the sun set. The darkness was too much. I kept expecting masked serial killers to leap out of the nearby trees and throw themselves at the dated bus. My imagination ran wild … and then I saw a flash of something in the road and reacted instinctively.

  Whatever it was moved on the left, so I swerved right, dipping into the ditch. I thought I was going fast enough to pop out on the other side, but the old bus didn’t have much “get up and go,” so it stalled, the wheels spinning helplessly as I tried to navigate back to the road.

  I pressed my lips together and peered through the window, looking for a hint of whatever I’d seen in the road. It had been a brief flash of movement, nothing more. For all I knew it could be an animal. I didn’t see anything, yet I wasn’t in the mood to climb out of the bus and search the area on my own. I’d seen too many horror movies to fall for that.

  I forced myself to remain calm and shifted the bus into reverse, slowly pushing on the accelerator. The tires spun helplessly, refusing to gain traction. I was well and truly stuck now, half of the bus’s front end hanging in a ditch that I couldn’t back out of.

  “Well, crap.”

  Now what?

  I reached over to the passenger seat and felt around until I found my cell phone. The battery bar glowed red, which meant that I didn’t have much juice left. Worse than that, I had absolutely no service bars showing. I punched in 911 anyway and pressed the phone to my ear. Other than a brief error message, I got nothing.

  “Son of a … !”

  I slapped my hands against the steering wheel and debated my options. I was essentially halfway between Wesley’s farm and town. That meant at least ten miles of walking in either direction. I hadn’t seen another vehicle during my drive out to the farm or my ride back, so the odds of someone else finding me were slim.

 
; I had no idea what to do.

  Ultimately, I realized I had no choice. I would have to pick a direction and start walking. It might take me four or five hours to get to a destination, but it obviously made more sense to head toward town. At least that way I could eventually see the lights on the horizon.

  I pocketed my phone and grabbed my cross-body purse, slipping it over my head and pocketing the keys before slamming the bus door shut. This was not the way I envisioned my night going. I thought I’d be able to sneak back to the lighthouse, turn off all of the lights and lock the doors before Galen showed up for our serious talk. It wasn’t a mature reaction, but I wasn’t sure how much more maturity I could muster in one day.

  I set a brisk pace that I knew I wouldn’t be able to maintain, but fear was a motivator. I heard scuffling in the underbrush occasionally, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. I rationalized that it was probably animals. Islands have animals, right? I pictured fluffy bunnies and slow tortoises.

  That wasn’t so bad.

  Then my mind shifted to the horror movie Anaconda and I couldn’t help wondering if the island was littered with giant snakes. Then I thought of the movie Turistas, when the natives went crazy and wanted to hack people for … well, I have no idea. I think it was body parts, but I couldn’t really remember. Then my mind drifted to a really bad zombie movie in which an entire island was taken over by zombies, which made me realize Moonstone Bay already had zombies.

  It took me fifteen minutes to cover a good bit of ground, and I wanted to break into a run. If I thought I could run in flip-flops I probably would’ve given it a go. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because the sound of a larger animal crashing in the growth to my right caught my attention, causing me to jerk my head in that direction.

  My heart pounded, sweat slicked my palms, and my mind revolted against what I thought I saw. I couldn’t be sure. The movement was fleeting, but I swear I caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes flashing to life only nine or ten feet from me.

  I ceased all forward momentum and slowly let my eyes drift from one side of the road to the other. I’ve never been one for believing I can sense the presence of a malevolent force or anything, but I was certain I wasn’t alone.